 
THE ANCIENTS AND THE ANGELS

### -BOOK ONE-

CELESTIALS

A Novel-

### M.C. O'Neill

Copyright 2012 M.C. O'Neill.

Smashwords edition

NOVEMBERMILL BOOKS • DES PLAINES, IL • UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
" _It is, then, by those shadows of the hoary past and their fantastic silhouettes on the external screen of every religion and philosophy that we can, by checking them as we go along, and comparing them, trace out finally the body that produced them. "_

-H.P. Blavatsky
Preface

Dearest Reader,

For generations immemorial, scholars and theologians have been undertaking a valiant effort to set forth a final decision as to what our beforefathers did on an earth prior to the ongoing trials and struggles of _homo sapiens sapiens_ (that's you!). I shall not attempt to answer that with any truth here, although none of the names of the innocent or the guilty have been changed. This tale you are about to devour could only be construed as entertainment. Sit back wherever you may be and enjoy a wonderful and horrible yesterday.

All the best,

M.C. O'Neill

Many thanks to Patrice Ekins, Ken Henson, and Mom.

NB: As per the Toltec tongue, "Xo'chi" is to be pronounced as "Shoat-ZEE."
I.THE SONG OF SAMMIAN

" _I see Earth! It is so beautiful!"_

-Yuri Gagarin

" _What it is, only God knows."_

-H.P. Lovecraft: _The Color Out of Space_ (1927).
Tremor

**T** hey arrived in the late afternoon. _Them_. They were made from nothing more than the simplest of shapes, yet that shape would prove to become a badge of doom. That afternoon, in the middle of what seemed to be an ordinary Fourthmoon, the sun was interrupted by their shadows upon every corner of the earth. They broke through the very fabric of reality like ripped linen in frightening synchronicity, and they all loved being a part of that foul moment, if one could call what they felt "love." As for all that lived on Earth, they held nothing but spite. It was an unholy malice that was forged and forever cemented not long after that wonderful blue world's creation. Little did the people of the earth know that terrible day, they were targeted for a grand rapture, and their destination would be _total damnation_.

***

Quen'die Reyliss was lounging in the blue glow of the large wall-mounted manascreen which had been a monumental fixture in her family's spacious living room for quite some time. She looked down from the sofa at her brother with a bit of irritation. _Gonduanna Vice_ was blaring through the speakers at a level only he could tolerate. The elf was sitting cross-legged on the floor, much too close to it, entranced by the intense action of Gonduanna's Finest busting a cartel of hyena poachers.

"Yeah! Kill 'em!" Kaedish cheered for the onscreen officers as they closed in on the criminals who were huddled in their tropical hideout. "Get 'em good!"

"By the gods! Would you turn that down some?" She scolded him from over the blaring racket of shouts, caster fire and hyena cackles. "I mean, you're only a hand's length away!"

"Hush, will you! I want to see Specialist Nabudu'ke take these poachers _down_!" Kaedish hated being interrupted while he was watching his shows, but it was all the worse if he was being told what to do. "Besides, why don't you call up your dumb friend, the one with the huge ears instead of bugging me and just leave me alone?"

"Oh, you mean you want me to invite Lauryl'la over, hmm?" Quen'die widened her eyes and flashed a giant grin to taunt him. "I think someone here is in love!" Sometimes, the maiden judged, Kaedish needed the jabs to take his mind off the screen which he had become ever the more glued to.

"I don't love her!" He detested being teased about maidens as it was still a big topic of embarrassment to a lad of his age. "She's stupid, she has gigantic ears, and she's at least ten feet tall. Not only that, her constant laughing makes _my_ ears ring!" Kaedish would not divert his gaze from the foreign police drama.

"You, dear brother, are a liar. And I can tell when you lie because your feet stink and your ears wiggle." With that, Quen'die giggled. "Seriously though, lower the volume. It wastes mana and Mother and Father will get mad at _me_ when they get the bill."

Kaedish surrendered to his sister's wishes and groaned in dejection as he uttered the directive for the screen's sound to lower to a more acceptable level. "Yeah, all right. _Telen'vid Sien..._ "

"Why thanks, Kaedish. Now I can think properly." The young elfmaid got up from the large wraparound sofa. The blast from the cacophonous soundtrack was still grating on her nerves despite her brother conceding to her demands.

"That's funny," Kaedish at last broke from the screen and turned around toward the maiden. "I didn't know you had any brains in the first place."

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. "I'm going to get a red avocado. Do you want one?" she asked him while half-hoping that he would say no so she wouldn't have to bother preparing another one.

"No," he was becoming more annoyed by her attentions and he figured she was doing it on purpose. "Wait! Do we any fried gram left?" he inquired with a sudden puppy-like enthusiasm.

"Nope," she flipped back her thick hair with an air of authority. "And we aren't getting any more either because Mother said it will destroy our complexions. Don't you want to look handsome for Rylla? Hmm...?" Quen'die continued to tease as she caressed her smooth skin with an absence of thought for any possible blemishes. She was relieved to find none.

"Just be gone!" The young elf was now being pushed to his limit with his sister's teasing. "I don't like Lauryl'la or any of your other stupid elfmaid friends! Much like you, none of them are pretty enough for the likes of me," he managed to add with a self-congratulatory bang to his chest.

"Kaedish, everybody in school knows that you'll end-up marrying a swamp hag. So once again, I have proven you wrong." She made her way through the voluminous archway which led to their kitchen. Her long, gossamer skirt swirled around her ankles as she walked.

Surprised to see only one red avocado left, she ordered ice from the refrigerator. " _Aquan'as fris,_ " she chanted to summon the cubes into her glass. Just as she was about to peel the ruddy fruit, the new manaphone that her folks got her for Wintersfest called out in its ghostly, but feminine, musical voice, " _Maiden Quen'die, Maiden Lauryl'la calls you._ " After some frantic searching for her most prized gift, she found the device forged of creamy cured jade on the counter next to the kitchen's hearth.

"Hey, Rylla, what's up?" She greeted just in time before the flow cut.

"Hey, Dee, how goes it?" Lauryl'la answered in her usual chipper voice. It was quite the contrast to Quen'die's calm and flowing manner of speech.

"Pretty good. If only my dumb brother would wink out of existence. You know, I think he crushes for you because every time I mention your name he goes totally red." Quen'die could tell that her brother had some unsaid feelings for her best friend. Of course, he would never vocalize this because he knew that his sister would never let him hear the end of it.

"Foul!" her friend winced over the phone. "Do you think I should avoid coming over until he decides to act like an elven being, or at least until his face clears up?"

"No," Quen'die was somewhat offended at Lauryl'la's remark regarding the lad. "I think you'll be fine. He'll just get shy and hide in his room, anyway. Don't worry too much about it."

Although she engaged in constant spats of varying intensity with her younger sibling, she still felt an urge, or more like an obligation, to protect him when someone outside of her family insulted him; regardless of whether he deserved it. As far as Quen'die was concerned, only she had the right to offend her brother.

"Point noted. Are you still going to the big thing this weekend? I'm so lucky to have parents that work at the same place..." Lauryl'la boasted in excitement, "...and go on training missions together. It's going to be so amazing! As a matter-of-fact, I told Hyrax about it. When I let him know that you would definitely be there, his ears seriously turned like, bright pink!"

Quen'die had carried a bit of a crush for Hyrax Arcovis ever since she joined the runta team at school. He was a rather intimidating sight, to say the least. At the age of sixteen, he was already seven feet tall and wore his obsidian-black hair in a lush topknot. For the most part, he was quite friendly to her, but every time she opened her mouth to speak to him, she could barely muster a monosyllable. That was such a frustration for her since she considered herself to be a very sharp elf as she had made the academic warden's list every semester since entering adept school.

_Why on Earth does my intelligence drop like a bucket full of bricks every time I face him?_ she had often asked herself in a state of bewilderment. _After all, I aced my Astrophysical Navigation classes with honors and nobody does that. Nonetheless, I can't string the fewest of words while I'm around a particular male._ Lauryl'la's news of his blushing did little to soothe her nerves because she knew that she would still flub any conversation she attempted with him while staring at his frame in a regretful, hypnotic trance.

"Oh gods! Is he seriously going to show up?" Quen'die tried to stifle a shocked gasp. As this was going to be her first social gathering outside of a school function, it was already a daunting event, but knowing this made her all the more knotted.

"That he is, so you definitely need to look cute for this," her best friend advised.

From the living room, Kaedish was throwing one of his usual tantrums about some trivial crisis involving the manascreen. Quen'die could hear the din of him smacking its frame with a rather harsh force, and this belayed her cold feet regarding Hyrax.

"Just a moment, Rylla," she was becoming more exasperated with her brother and now that he was firing up his angry antics, she could feel a headache brewing. "Kaedish!" she called into the living room. "Knock it off! You'll break it and it's expensive!"

"The screen just shut off for no reason and now I can't see the end of my show! This thing is a Tel'lemurian piece of junk! I have no clue why Father bought this model in the first place!" He would often cry about such stupid gadgets as if his life depended on them. Just to pack in the point, he smacked the frame once again.

"Well, acting like a newborn elfling and pummeling it won't make the mana flow any better. You'll just wind up busting it permanently," she lectured him like a harsh academic warden, which was something she found herself doing almost every hour on the hour.

"Stop calling me an elfling!" he cried through the wide, main archway. "I _hate_ it when you do that! You _always_ do that!"

Kaedish had been acting out quite a bit as of late; more than a normal, well-adjusted, thirteen-year-old elf would. His behavior had gone downhill ever since their little brother passed away. He had felt somewhat like the lord of the house after Kellyn was born and he had been very protective of the baby. When the little elfling had succumbed to an unfortunate illness, the young lad had withdrawn into the shows, games and computer on the manascreen and had even begun to gain some weight as he was always snacking. With the exception of his particularly obnoxious friend Noopy, Kaedish had been isolating from his other peers and his grades had been falling at a steady rate. The pair's mother and father were duly concerned about his routines and had sought counsel for their son. The school's health warden had been administering potions and treatments to help alleviate his woe, but such a process would take some time to have a discernible effect. It was frequent that Quen'die took the brunt of the lad's outrages and she had fretted that she was assuming the role of a third parent for him.

Unlike Kaedish, the elfmaid turned not to food, but immersed herself in athletics and academics to help cope with the family's tragic loss. She _always_ seemed to be busy with activities, curricular or otherwise, to the point that her mother would call her "the invisible willow." Sometimes, the young maiden figured that it was her responsibility to hold everything together just in case Kaedish failed to do so.

As if the chaos around and inside her would not subside, Quen'die could feel the phone lose its vibration. "Hello? Hello, Rylla? Hey, are you still there?" To answer her question, the phone interjected with its soothing, singing voice, " _I am sorry, Maiden Quen'die. There is a disruption in the manaflow. This conversation has been severed._ "

On that cue, all the lights in the house went out with a sudden bang and Kaedish screamed in shock. To add to the frightening event, all of the other mana vibrations in the house had ceased and Quen'die's ears began to feel a bit hot. Their entire home was still, save Kaedish's shouting.

"Dee! What's going on! What did you do? My ears are burning up!" The elf was massaging the sides of his long, pointed ears as if the act would somehow cool them.

"Kaedish, I've done nothing. Our power has just..."

!!!

The next thing Quen'die knew was the feeling of being swept off her feet and onto the kitchen's smoked-marble floor with a bone-stunning jolt to her rear end. Waves of pain surged up her slender back as she cried out in a combination of terror and misery. She hadn't felt an ache so sharp since she slid on both knees while playing runta at school the year before. After the accident, she had been delivered to the emergency ward where the health wardens had to slather her legs with a particularly odorous mana-based salve for the next three days. Despite the foul smell of the medicine, she remembered the cool, soothing relief and marveled at how her scored skin would regenerate before her very eyes with each application.

"Gods! Gods! We're under attack! I just know it!" Kaedish continued to bellow. He was lying face down on the living room's mammothskin rug; his hands clutching the top of the coppery curls on his head. From time to time, Quen'die thought his brazen hair accentuated his fiery temper. "The Lems are going to kill us! Maybe that was them landing or maybe it was even one of their airstrikes!"

"Oh-OW! _Fool_!" Quen'die admonished the lad in thoughtless pain, still flat on her back. She felt as though the very Earth's gravity was sucking her entire body into the floor. "I-It was just a bad tremor," she managed as she inhaled a deep gale of air. " See? Our ears are even getting hot."

"Yeah, but don't the Lems have weapons that can cause tremors and earthquakes?" Kaedish was going to start with his xenophobic paranoid theories again, Quen'die could foresee. "I've heard all about a new device they have that can rend the earth right out from under our feet. I _know_ that's what this is."

"You watch the screen too much," she said to him with a grunt as she got herself up from the hard floor. Her whole body ached and she wanted to fall back down for a few seconds. The sting from her fall was still pulsing and a cascade of her oxblood-red hair was draped over her face. "That's a bunch of conspiracy and junk. Tel'lemuria can't devise a weapon to crack the earth."

She pulled dense strands of her scarlet mane away from her eyes. "Why would they want to do that in the first place? We're at peace again," his sister tried to explain this to him as she limped back into the living room. This kind of pain would rear its head in intermittent, grinding reminders for days, she estimated.

"Don't be so sure," said her brother with a slow, wary warning. "Those greenskins are sneaky and you'll never be the wiser as to what they're planning behind our backs. The next thing you know, you'll fall through a fissure deep into the very earth's core all on account of them!"

"Oh? Care to be any more racist, Kaedish?" Quen'die raised an eyebrow. "What did Mother say to you about using those kinds of words?" The elfmaid massaged her stinging tailbone and the topical stab of the fall was already becoming a phasic pulse of agony.

"I know," he began with a sheepish groan. "I'm sorry. I just... I just don't trust them. That's all."

"You know, Professor Miryon is a Lem and he's one of the best teachers we have at school," Quen'die continued. "I trust him well enough. And certainly, Tel'lemuria is chock-full of elves that are just as capital as he is."

"Yeah, I guess. Like I said, I'm sorry about that. When stuff like this happens, I keep thinking about all the war stories our uncle tells us about the Lems and how it was pretty scary," Kaedish admitted. To only confirm the effect the old elf had on him, Quen'die noticed that the lad was wearing one of his uncle's old, camouflaged Defense Forces t-shirts from that war which boasted in a stark military script:

" _401st. Atlantean Light Lancers: Tu'balsyn, Tel'lemuria '69."_

"Look, those were different times before either of us was born and we're very lucky to not have to live though them," Quen'die reminded him. "Stop worrying about this kind of stuff. You know our uncle drinks too much wine before he goes on with those horrible stories."

She looked away toward the basement door, her attention diverted to more pressing matters. "Come on, we need to check to see if there's any damage from the quake, and I assure you, it _is_ just a quake." With that, she went back to the kitchen, still limping a bit, and rummaged through the broom closet to look for a couple of torches.

The two set off for the basement in hopes of reactivating the house's power. Simultaneously, they slapped the ends of their torches as both devices awoke with a one-note tune, thus lighting their way towards their family's manafountain.

"Hey, Dee. If the mana isn't flowing, why are the torches working?" asked her brother.

"Because they're powered with 'dumb' mana. They have self-contained charges and aren't linked to the flow," she responded to him with as much patience as she could.

"Oh... right. Yeah, I knew that," Kaedish blushed, sensing her irritation.

Ever since Kaedish's grades had begun to slip, he became somewhat self-conscious of his intelligence. It had become a bit of a soft spot for him and Quen'die tried her best to not berate his intellect during their fights which were increasing in frequency. That was difficult, in her opinion, because sometimes she felt that he was acting more or less ignorant by bothering her with some pretty common sense questions.

Their family's vaulted basement was spacious, well-designed, and had fully-finished hardwood flooring with a small manascreen hanging from its curved wall. Their mother and father used it mostly to entertain guests from their job, and thus, it was decked out with entertainment fixtures such as a miniature runta tabletop game and a small bar which was stocked with many exotic (and some very expensive) liquors and elixirs. Behind it rested Father's prized wine collection. Suspended from one wall in the middle of the room, a large plaque hewn from oak displayed a famous Atlantean motto cast in an ancient script, " _Love This Earth or Leave It!_ " Set aside in another room, immovable as a mountain, stood the manafountain.

"I don't see anything wrong with it from the outside," Quen'die observed as she illuminated the monolithic appliance in the blue gloom of the outage. She didn't want to make direct contact with it because she was worried about getting a burn. Under normal circumstances, the fixture would make an even-metered hum which they had taken for granted, despite it being rather loud. It all seemed quite ominous in that it was dead silent.

The house's fountain was a floor-to-ceiling, bulging pillar that dug beyond their home's foundation and deep into the earth below. Its sole purpose was to direct mana from their community's manaspring and power their home with the raw energy derived from up in the earth's manasphere. Screens, hearths, heating, lighting; almost all of their family's appliances were dependent upon the pulse of the bulky thing. Their fountain was of a particular ornate model that was covered with runes and sigils which would throb with a bright blue light when it was in proper working condition. The model was of the finest Atlantean craftsmanship and hewn from petrified mahogany. Kaedish enjoyed bragging to his classmates how it was at least three centuries old.

"That's bad news," Kaedish lamented. "It probably means the manaspring is messed up."

"Yeah, more than likely," his sister agreed while still searching the pillar for a possible solution. "Now all we can do is wait around for the power wardens to reboot it. I'm sure they're working on it right now, especially since the whole town must be without power."

Just after Quen'die had spoken, a choral arpeggio of manasong coursed through the pillar and the tiny utility room was bathed in a blinding azure light throughout. The siblings both let out a startled yelp and laughed in unison with joy and relief. The fountain commenced humming its usual song of labor: " _woob, woob, woob..."_

"Don't look at me!" the elfmaid giggled to her brother while shrugging her bony shoulders. "I didn't do it!" She felt fortunate for her wisdom to not touch the apparatus, because the scorch would have been immense if she had placed her hand on it at the wrong time.

Throughout the entire house, their appliances and gadgets were singing their unintelligible tunes of arousal. Kaedish always loved to hear the house power up after a blackout because he thought it sounded so amazing.

"Thank the gods that's over with," the young elf commented. "I didn't want Mother and Father coming home to a blackout and then have them blame me for it."

"You know they wouldn't do that," his sister assured him. "They'd know right away that it was a problem with the spring." Kaedish was accruing punishments all the more for his frequent outbursts and tantrums, but Mother and Father were very fair when it came to discipline. They would always listen to his side of the story, even if it was composed with his fuzzy logic.

They ran up the stairs into their modestly-designed living room. The overhead lights were once again charged and the pair could navigate through their family's sparse, but elegant furnishings with ease. Device-by-device, the main floor came to life. The large, cured-ashwood screen on the wall rebooted with its familiar wakesong and, with a few flashes of light, displayed with pride its world-famous homescreen:

### WELCOME TO MANASOFT!

A Dara'vanian Corporation.

" _Connecting you and your loved ones for one thousand quality years."_

Where shall we go today?

"I thought they'd never ask," Kaedish answered the screen with a chuckle. "Take me to channel 201," he ordered the entertainment system without pause. " _Red Mana Overdose_. Thanks."

"Why must you watch those stupid, violent shows?" his sister inquired of him. In that instant, she regretted it because she knew it would spawn yet another barrage of banter from his little hot head.

"So what?" Kaedish snapped, just as she had expected. "You're just gonna hop on your phone and call-up ten feet of Rylla and her big, dumb ears, anyway."

As if the gods themselves heard the young elf's complaint, Quen'die's manaphone sang to her, " _Maiden Quen'die, Maiden Lauryl'la calls you._ "

"See? What did I tell you?" Kaedish slapped his knee with self-assured smugness. "Point proven."

"Whatever," Quen'die shot back as she answered her friend's call, only to be assaulted by Lauryl'la's excited jabber before she could even get the phone up to her ear.

"Ohmygods! Ohmygods!" Lauryl'la volleyed through the phone without taking a breath. "Maiden, have you _seen_ what's on the screen? You will absolutely _not_ believe it!"

"Hang on a moment," Quen'die ordered her friend. She was becoming a bit flustered from the ache in her back, Kaedish's surly attitude and her eyes having to readjust to the light. "Kaedish just awoke it. Did you have a blackout too?"

"Yeah, we did, but that's not the big deal. Just wait for one of the channels to come on. It's all over the _screen_! " her best friend squealed half in terror, half with excitement. "Just watch it!"

Instead of Kaedish's expected action/drama which almost always consisted of Atlantean spies assassinating Tel'lemurian terrorists in some exotic locale, or a legendary epic of his ancient forefathers exterminating hordes of orcs with glee, the two were met with a news report. Emblazoned in red across the screen, an alert warned:

### EMERGENCY BROADCAST: SPECIAL NEWS REPORT

Onscreen, Quay'liss Dalian, a well-respected newsreader who covered only the biggest of the best stories, stood in front of a gigantic vessel of a make that Quen'die could not recognize. It wasn't a crashed limmer, to be sure, as it was much too large for that. The best she could describe it would have been a smooth and streamlined pyramid or ziggurat poking at a slight angle from out of the earth. A caption at the bottom of the screen scrolled:

Numerous Vessels of Unknown Origin Appearing Across Atlantis. Communication Blackout With Other Nations.

The elves sat in rapt attention as Dalian reported the details of this mysterious incident. Even Kaedish wasn't fidgeting as usual, and both of the teens' eyes were as wide as a mountain elk's. Onscreen, Dalian appeared to keep composure, but the siblings could tell that even her famous, steadfast iciness was beginning to show its cracks as she reported what must have been the grandest story of her career. A fashionable shock of blue-streaked, platinum-blond hair cascaded over one of her eyes and down her fine, chiseled features.

"Good evening, Atlantis. Tonight I am standing in front of what appears to be a giant pyramid of unknown origin at a location not far from our own capital city of Corosa. These objects suddenly materialized seemingly out of nowhere all across the kingdom in areas of thankfully low population. If you had experienced an earthquake or a tremor this evening, these monstrous hulks are likely to be the blame. Eyewitness accounts from around the provinces all share one report - they did not land from the skies. That is correct, and I repeat - these structures, or whatever they are, did not touch down, but rather... _appeared_. It is still not known what the natures of these objects are. Speculations that they may be vessels or devices, or perhaps, buildings have already set the manacloud abuzz with rumors and frankly, fearsome tales. Thus far, we have no tally in regards to damages or injuries due to this event or from any of the resulting tremors they have caused. We assure you that we will keep you informed of any developments regarding the nature of this strange arrival as soon as we are able."

"HAW-HAW!" Kaedish pointed at his sister with accusatory satisfaction. "What did I tell you? We _are_ under attack! I'll bet you a million brens that it's the Lems! I'm gonna grab Father's caster!" Despite his threat, the elf remained entranced by the news report and failed to respond to his own call to arms.

Quen'die ignored her brother's outburst and kept her eyes transfixed on the screen. The maiden was trying to process all that was happening.

"Hey, Rylla," she said to her friend without paying any real attention; unable to look away from the broadcast. "I'll call you back. I wanna see the rest of this."

"Capital," Lauryl'la agreed. "Isn't this crazy? Until later." With that, she disconnected as Dalian continued the report.

"As you can see, I am standing daringly close to this particular object. It is merely one of a reported one hundred appearances of these pyramidal objects throughout the kingdom. There may be several more than that as of yet undiscovered."

On the reporter's cue, the recording mirrors of the newscast panned away from her to better establish the layout of the event. Hovering around the pyramid, combat-grade limmers belonging to the Atlantean Defense Forces beamed their spotlights to better reveal its size and shape. There was even a cadre of large, wooden power-golems festooned in Atlantis's blue and white markings clunking around the hulk's base. Atlantean standards fluttered from poles which jutted out of the golems' bulky shoulders. Kaedish's heart swelled with national pride and a sense of security at the display. Squinting to get a more concerted look, he could see the vermillion glow of the airships' heavy casters, which he knew very well, meant that they were online and ready for action.

"If you look closely, you can see," the reporter continued from offscreen. "The national defense wardens are forming perimeters around the pyramids at each of these sites all over the kingdom. Do not be alarmed, they are merely present for crowd-control and illumination purposes."

"Now that's what I want to do when I grow up! I want to join the ADF! I could be a belly-caster on a combat limmer!" Kaedish exclaimed with bravado. "I'd swoop down on all our enemies with my casters blazing away! ' _Eat red mana, Lem! Kill! Kill!_ '"

"Gods, you are such a scab!" his sister chided out of one side of her mouth, her eyes still glued to the screen. "I somehow don't believe we're truly related. Besides, if you want to ever join the Defense Forces, you'll need to lay off the fritter pies and fried gram."

"Whatever," her brother said with a defensive scowl while patting his budding belly. "This is just elfling fat. By the time I'm your age, I'll be one hundred percent gorilla-muscle and ready to kick some Lem tail."

"Sure...if you say so." Quen'die could only roll her large, green almondine eyes to that. Sometimes the lad's bloodthirsty streak worried her, but she figured it was just an early-adolescent phase. Either way, he could prove to be quite an embarrassment whenever he was around her friends. Once, she thought she heard Lauryl'la call him 'Sergeant Scab' under her breath.

"Oh, dear sister, mark my words! I'll be the scourge of the enemy's battlefield!" he proclaimed as he slapped his chest to celebrate a fictitious victory.

"Fine. But until then, stop being such a little orc," she said, still not bothering to look at him or his ridiculous display of machismo.

"Ah, but orcs are extinct," he chimed as if he were some grim professor.

"Sometimes," she grumbled with a low, guilty resonance, "I wish you were extinct."

***

Throughout the evening, the screen began to replay the same reports over and over and Kaedish had become bored with the lack of developments. From time to time, a local eyewitness would be interviewed lamenting over a destroyed orchard or a fallen glade. One fact all of the interviewees had in common was the sudden appearance of the hulks. As Dalian had reported, all had claimed the pyramids just materialized before their very eyes without any warning.

The dusk of evening melted into night and the young elves began to worry over their parents' whereabouts. It was usual for them to drive home from work together and neither of the children had heard from them yet as they were becoming rather late.

"Do you think we should call Mother and Father?" Quen'die looked over to her brother whose eyes were harvesting concern as well.

"I think their phones are in the shop getting re-cured, though," the young elf reminded her. His voice was beginning to shake with a sense of helplessness over this situation. "They won't have them back until tomorrow."

"Well, let's just wait for a while, and if they don't get back soon, we should call our neighbors." It was the best advice she could muster save going out into the city and looking for them on foot.

After a short time of worry, the walls of the house sang in sudden chorus, " _Welcome home, Lord and Lady Reyliss._ "

The two were a bit startled when the door opened as Mother and Father had arrived home from the laboratory. Both were rather frantic as they scanned the front room for their children. Mother was setting down some bags and Father was already taking off his overcloak.

Their mother and father both worked at the Circle of Climate and Environment. Although the name of the bureau sounded somewhat mundane, it was responsible for much more than the simple duties of testing water and soil samples. The Circle was spearheading the exploration, and ultimately, the colonization of the only known habitable planet other than Earth in the solar system. Father, himself was scheduled to make a landing up there in a year's time and this fact made Quen'die and Kaedish something like minor celebrities at school.

"Hey Kids!" their father called from the house's foyer. "Is everyone all right?"

"Yeah, we're right here," Quen'die answered for the both of them.

"Thank the gods! I was so worried about you," Mother cut in while hanging up her light hoodcloak. "The roads were a nightmare, and we couldn't get the coach running until the power resurged at the manastation. I think we were caught in at least three gridlocks on the way home. We didn't know if you got hurt in the quake or what else could have happened." She turned to her daughter, "Quen'die, you really should have called us once your phone was flowing again."

"But aren't your phones in the shop? That's what Kaedish said. Look, I'm sorry, "she began to stammer to her parents. "After the power came back, we had to watch the news to see what was going on and then Rylla called..."

"It's all right," her father assured. "But we really wish you would have called at least while we were still at the lab. They have phones there too, you know. It would have made that drive home a lot easier for the both of us. You know how my nerves get when it comes to you guys. So **...** What's the damage here?"

Quen'die hadn't even thought about such stuff during the time they were still at work. Once the quake was over and the power was back in the flow, she was too preoccupied with what was happening on the news reports. After all, the quake knocked her off her feet, so it was reasonable that some of her parents' valuables could have been smashed. Nor did the elfmaid consider her father. He too had been deeply affected by her little brother's death and had proven to be a bit overprotective ever since Kellyn passed on. Every small sniffle or bruise was a national crisis when it involved her or her brother. Considering they were now undergoing an _actual_ national crisis, Quen'die half-expected he would attempt to lock her in the house until further notice. Mother, on the other hand, was better able to move on and cope with all the daily problems, expected or otherwise. She was strong and Quen'die felt very grateful that she took after her in many ways.

"Father!" Kaedish jumped up and hollered in excitement. "Did you see one? Did you get to see a pyramid?"

"No, we didn't," his father laughed with a hint of nervousness. "Now, there _is_ supposedly one in our area, but getting even within viewing distance is virtually impossible. In one direction you have military, reporters, and emergency coaches rushing toward it, and in the other direction, you have everyone else trying to scramble home to safety. The streets are an utter madhouse! A golem nearly stepped on the bonnet of our coach!

"Seriously?" Kaedish jumped again. "Did an ADF golem almost smash our coach? That's fantastic! I gotta tell Noopy at school!" Kaedish had never been so excited as his eyes were locked into the size of wonderstruck green coconuts. Quen'die thought he looked like a small puppy. It took very little to rile him sometimes, especially if it had to do with destruction.

"No," Mother said in disappointment to the young elf while giving her husband the evil eye; an expression the svelte lady had mastered throughout her years of marriage to him. "Your father is just letting his incredible imagination run wild - as always."

Lord Reyliss scanned the living room for any damage. A cold wave of fear hit him as he remembered the wine collection in the basement. A quake such as that night's could have very well shaken some valuable vintages onto the floor. Without another word, he rushed down the stairs to assess any losses. It was an assured mess, just as he had dreaded. He arrived there to find puddles of red, blue, and green liquid swirled together amidst broken glass pooling underneath the diamond-shaped racks.

"Glynna!" Father hollered up from the basement in a childlike frenzy. "My wines are smashed! Well, most of them."

Mother met him downstairs to see him cradling a half-broken green bottle. He looked like a young elfling who had just destroyed his favorite toy, which she still found a bit endearing despite his obvious anguish. His curly wisps were falling over one of his eyes and she thought they looked much like her son's, however, they were of a chestnut-brown and thinning a bit. This was going to be quite a night and she fretted about it causing yet another argument with her husband. Such a display of personal loss triggered her sense of her own inventory and, in that moment, she began to worry about her ancient pottery collection which she had been accruing ever since the days of her Master's levels.

"Oh, Ferd'inn, be careful with that," Mother advised with a mixture of annoyance and weak affection. "You'll seriously cut yourself and it'll take forever for a health warden to get over here tonight."

"Yeah, but this vintage is over nine hundred years old!" he moaned as he dropped the shards in defeat. "Well, at least none of the wines bottled in bone or wood were destroyed. I suppose I'll have to talk to the insurance warden tomorrow. Eh, maybe my accountant as well."

"Best of luck with that one," Mother responded in a practical tone she would assume whenever Father was flustered. "Tomorrow, all of Atlantis will be on the phone with their insurance wardens. The call volume will probably cause another outage! Look on the bright side, few of the really expensive vintages were broken."

"I suppose you're right, but I really wanted to save this Xochian bottle for Summersfest. It's infused with chocolate! I've never tasted chocolate!" he whined.

"I'll tell you what," Mother tended to feel a bit burdened by her husband's concerns sometimes, and all the more if they were frivolous, like chocolate. "Maybe we can just save up and spend Summersfest in Xo'chi this season while the children are on break, and then you can try all the chocolate you can get your hands on."

"Just as long as they don't have any earthquakes," Father chuckled.

"Very well. It's a deal," Mother reassured as Father looked up at her like a wounded puppy and smiled. "No earthquakes."

"All right," Glynna met her husband's smirk. "I'll round up the kids and we'll have to get everything straightened out here. If you think you're heartbroken over the wines, wait till you hear me scream when I find out my Kumarian vase is in a million shards. The thing is ancient!"

The young elves' parents gathered everyone for an ad hoc damage control meeting and, with some mild protest from Kaedish, who was satisfied enough that none of the screens were busted, everybody set off on their allotted assignments. After noting that the quake had been rather forgiving to their property, Mother went to check the second floor. Within a few short moments, Lady Reyliss' children and husband heard a terror-stricken shriek from above.

Lord Reyliss and his two children rushed upstairs to find Mother in the master bedroom standing amidst shards upon shards of shattered vases, amphorae, vessels, and other assorted crockery. Ancient relics from all over the world lay at her feet. From Thuless'in to Xo'chi and Avalon, from Gonduanna to Tel'lemuria, these articles of history and culture were all but destroyed. She held with ginger care in each of her well-manicured hands the jagged remnants of a two-thousand-year-old Kumarian vase; just as she had predicted. Every single piece in her collection had fallen off the shelves into a multicolored horde of junk. A spiraling shock of her blood-red hair swayed across her angular, pouting face as one of her eyebrows arched to a painful height while the other almost touched the bridge of her nose. This was Mother's evil eye, but the ultimate version, which she saved for only the direst of travesties. She was one broken relic away from the verge of tears. Despite her tragic circumstances, Father thought she looked more beautiful than ever.

"Ferd'inn...," Mother managed to blurt in a calm moan while trying to stifle a raging fit and cursing the gods. "About those insurance wardens..."
Aftershock

**A** lthough the news reporter was correct, there was very little damage and many people were spared from serious harm upon the appearance of the mysterious monoliths, some citizens throughout the kingdoms of Atlantis were not so lucky. Whenever a momentous occurrence such as that happens, accidents ensue and things can go awry. Some calamitous and strange events of note transpired as follows:

Consolidated Power and Light provided energy to Atlantis's capital city and its surrounding area. It was the power wardens' jobs to regulate and monitor the manaflow from all of Corosa's manasprings which were the primary source of power to each individual household in the city. On'dinn Bor'lann and Zev Mark'ann were two such wardens.

The two elves had worked together on the second shift for close to five years. On'dinn was quite a bit older than Zev and carried more experience when it came to the job of regulating the flow to almost one million manafountains across the huge power district. Zev, on the other hand, had graduated not long before from his Master's levels and this was his first job of any sort, in truth.

Unlike old On'dinn, the young elf came from a long line of power wardens and he felt a sense of entitlement as a third-generation technician at the facility. Even his father worked in the upper offices. On'dinn resented his younger contemporary because it took almost ten years for him to promote to the same position Zev had managed to obtain after one quick interview. The old elf had tried to come to terms that elven society was not always fair and nepotism was wont to win out in the end.

The pyramids appeared at precisely 4:42 p.m. that fateful evening. At that moment, Zev was flirting with a new quality assurance manager who was also not very interested in her position. At times like that, On'dinn's chagrin with the young elf reached its peak. He wasn't jealous of the male's youth or the attentions from the maiden, those kinds of concerns were a thing of the past at his age; he was more annoyed that his partner was taking advantage of his father's clout to lillypad about when there was so much to be done. Regulation of the giant turbines which tumbled mana from the central springs and directed it to thousands of homes and businesses was not an easy task and it required much vigilance and responsibility. These were two attributes Zev lacked.

As Zev was attempting to impress the QA manager with some kind of foolish card trick, the quake's kinetic force struck the outer perimeter of the facility. Warning klaxons powered with dumb mana to assure operation even when cut from the flow screamed in a loud panic as the main lights of the station began to flicker on and off. The quality assurance manager, who was not very assuring in her quality at that time, threw the hot tea she was drinking in Zev's face due to the concussive bumps of the tremor. Not only was the lad's card trick ruined, his skin was scalded. Fifty-two playing cards of the finest craftsmanship flew hither and yon all over the catwalks of the turbine room as Zev recoiled in pain.

On'dinn was furious. He was at the controls of the central turbine nearby trying in desperation to keep the power flowing to the main conduit and into the entirety of the energy grid. He couldn't do it alone as he needed his partner to helm the control gate in order to meter the flow of the chaotic, surging mana into a steady and ordered stream. The old elf's cries to his younger partner were unheard over the din of the sirens and the commotion on the floor. Zev was bellowing in pain at that instant as well while he nursed the angry red burn on his face. By the time the young warden was no longer concerned with his poor, blemished mug, it was too late.

The control panel was becoming much too hot to touch, but On'dinn knew he had to keep clutching to his station to forefend disaster. His hollers to his partner turned to screams as the power level was approaching a critical mass. His head was swimming and he knew he was already suffering manaburns which would, without a doubt, render him crippled for the rest of his life. To the dismay of his loved ones and family, that life ended in the next minute as his body became part of the manaflow. The elder power warden ordered the flow for an emergency, and deadly, reroute. " _Gatin'inn boru Ui mana_!" he screeched to the turbine through gritted teeth.

Excess mana hopped through On'dinn's console and circuited itself though his arms, his body, and back into the grid. On'dinn sacrificed himself to avert a meltdown which could have blown one half of Corosa into the sky and the other half into the bowels of the earth. The station's foreman employed emergency measures to shut the whole power plant down with a killswitch just in time as the stalwart old elf performed his final duty which was well above his job description.

After some "official" reprimands and string-pulling, Zev was not fired from the station due to his irresponsibility and continued to work at Consolidated Power and Light in the upper offices where his father could keep a better eye on him. With a handsome pay raise.

***

Gun'dun Skodd moved away, rather fled, from his native kingdom of Thuless'in when he was just an elfling. He hailed from a family of farmers who relocated to Atlantis during a period of extreme civil strife when King Ron'dagg IV ruled with an oppressive fist. The tyrant was given the moniker "the Good," much to the irony of the citizens. That particular regent was anything but, and it was speculated that his own court gave him this nickname out of their mortal fear of him. Thousands of elves had been killed by the horrors of starvation or executed for some minor offense. Thousands more had just disappeared. When Gun'dun's father received an "agricultural reclamation notice" in his mail one day, he knew his whole family was on the chopping block for either some trivial bureaucratic reason or a pitiful and fateful filing error.

After fleeing the ludicrous rule of King Ron'dagg, the Skodds were welcomed into the fair (by relative comparison) and democratic society of Atlantis and it wasn't long before the elder Skodd could establish his farm once again on their foreign shores. Since the majority of Atlanteans were vegetarians, the farm specialized in the cultivation of vegetables, herbs, and a variety of fruit orchards. They even hosted a mushroom farm in a small network of underground tunnels. One particular livestock his family continued to raise was the dire wolf. All Thuless'in farmers took great pride in wolf breeding and the Skodds were not about to let this tradition slide, despite their alien surroundings.

Years later, Gun'dun inherited the farm and he was known throughout the region as one of Atlantis's top dire wolf wranglers. These gallant beasts were over five feet long from snout to rump and were perfect for security, hauling, and defense purposes. The Skodd farm became so famous for their stock that they soon supplied Corosa's civil wardens with all of the wolves which were used in their lupine division.

On that remarkable late afternoon when the pyramids arrived, Gun'dun was taking one of his clutches of wolves out to the far pasture of his land. All morning, the beasts were agitated and seemed to be a bit spooked by lunchtime. The herder couldn't figure out what the problem could have been and all of his ranch hands agreed that his stock was behaving rather fidgety. The weather reports told of no storms and after two perimeter searches, no intruders could be found. Gun'dun knew that dire wolves were, by inherent nature, keen when it came to detecting danger; natural or otherwise. Considering all the wolves were acting more like sheep, and not just an isolated beast or two, he had become very concerned himself.

The pasture was wide and could accommodate the monstrous beasts' exercise with ease. With much reluctance, the wolves trotted out with the ranch hands; many of them were whimpering as if they had just been whipped. One particular wolf tried to turn back in horrified desperation from the direction of the pasture and nipped a ranch hand who tried to arrest him. Even a slight nibble from a dire wolf required fair medical attention and Gun'dun's employee had to soak his fingers in manasalve for the majority of a week after the attack.

As the animals were led through the corral, the ranchers set back and observed the sprawling pasture. The wolves were not moving, nor were they responding to any calls or whistles. The entire clutch faced one direction and pointed their bulky maws toward the sky. It was almost as if they were stuck in some flat loop, like a computer glitch. In unison, the dire wolves let out a howl that was so strange in that it was harmonious and consistent. Within seconds, it was cut short without crescendo.

The flat land of the green pasture on that fine, late-spring day and the husky grey wolves that dotted it were replaced in a split instant by a giant pyramidal shape that swirled with color, almost as if from chrome, but the tones and hues eddied from the inside of its surface rather than on it. Gun'dun ran out of a nearby shed and into its immense shadow. It took him shocked minutes to figure out that his expanse was no longer a field, but a site. As his ears began to experience a burning sensation, he fell to his knees and fainted.

Later that evening, he awoke from his stupor in a medic's tent of the Atlantean Defense Forces. He was met with a barrage of questions that he couldn't quite answer as he had forgotten in that moment how to speak any language other than his native tongue. Within minutes, he fell back asleep.

***

Glam'ryn How'dann was dozing off in her bed in the Corosa Community Hospice. Her children had committed her to this facility after learning that she was suffering from a rare degenerative disease which affected her entire body. They did anything they could for her, but their caretaking abilities and knowledge of this condition just couldn't compete with its strong and rather strange effects.

The elder lady would lapse from time to time into confused states where she could no longer remember who she was or where she was going. Sometimes, she was under the impression that she was one hundred years younger than her true age and would attempt physical acts that could break her brittle bones. In one incident, at one of her grandsons' birthday parties, she had attempted to join a pickup-game of runta while she was still wearing her old bedgown. When everyone present had tried to stop her and speak some sense, she became agitated with frustration and angered because nobody would let her play.

As the disease began to run its course stronger than ever, some of the autonomic processes of her body began to fail as her poor, confused brain could no longer send the proper messages to their respective systems. Sometimes she couldn't breathe because her lungs forgot to bellow. The most embarrassing symptom was that her digestive tract would not work very well and this caused a rather frightful mess for those who had cared for her.

It was in this hospice she rested on the momentous day of the puzzling objects' arrival. She was watching the tray of food set before her with a bit of wonder. The venerable lady was having a difficult time remembering if she had already eaten, and noted that she must have done so because she didn't feel a bit hungry. She wanted to go outside and play with her friends instead, imaginary as they may have been, but her weak and frail body prevented this. This was a terrible disappointment to her and she began to cry in frustration.

When the lights throughout the facility began to flicker on and off, she found herself very short of breath and a sudden wave of fear hit her. Out in the hallways, doctors, nurses, and all manner of health wardens were milling about in a state of frenzy. Their shouts and hollers were making her nervous. The big machine that would hum with a steady rhythm day and night next to her bed ceased its whispering, minimal tune.

Medical instruments of all kinds were falling off their shelves and trolleys as the quake rumbled through the guts of Corosa. The hospice's staff was in a panic as they attempted to stabilize monitors, salve pumps and the equipment on which they relied to keep the residents of the facility alive through their final days. From under the relentless manascream, " _Code White! Code White!"_ cried for attention. During the tumult, Glam'ryn's terror and confusion was replaced by a sudden, general sense of well-being. The door to her ward opened as a very tall doctor strolled in with a gentle stride. He made quite the contrast against the frazzled faculty who were still shouting orders to each other in a rather futile attempt to maintain order in the rumble.

He was golden; white-gold, as she saw it. This doctor seemed to be cast from the shimmering element. Glam'ryn wondered if he were perhaps a sun or a high elf, but he wasn't just of a tan or dusky complexion; his skin emitted a glow. Unlike any of the other doctors in the ward who would strut in an elite fashion with their long tresses and braids, he was bald without a stubble and looked like one of the steadfast statues installed on the Royal Promenade come to life. Glam'ryn had been dreaming about him on and off again with increasing frequency. This had to be him. He peered down with gentle grace over her as her life monitors screamed a warning of total failure.

"A good day to you, Glam'ryn," the doctor intoned in the kindest of voices. "I can see you are already feeling much better."

This wonderful being's voice was musical like the mana itself. The tone was steady and calm; however it was not ghostly like all the mana-fed objects and devices that had served her throughout her whole life. His song matched the beauty of the face and the form. The elder lady felt so lucid for the first time in years, yet could not pin her current surroundings, and her ears were no longer getting hot.

"Hello, doctor. It really is a beautiful day," she said as an entire cabinet toppled face down on the floor nearby with a crash she could not, or perhaps cared not, to hear.

"I have great news! You are to be discharged immediately," he informed his patient as he took her hand. Although his grip looked firm, she could not feel it with any true physical force.

"Yes," she agreed. "I really want to leave now. Where will we be going? Are we going to Mars?" She felt like a six-year-old on Wintersfest morning again.

"No. We aren't going to Mars. That world is not for you," his voice continued to sing to her with a musical gleam.

"But we can go there now! It's all over the news!" she protested in a voice which was that of a little elfmaid.

"We will go to a much more incredible place," the doctor began. "All of your friends are there and they want to see you again."

"Yes!" she cried with happy brightness. "We're going to a party! I love parties and all my friends will be there!"

"Sure," the doctor smiled with a bit of condensation. This was an aspect of his lot that caused him problems. His wards could never seem to grasp the great journey ahead of them. "Are you ready to leave?"

The arthritic cramp that had turned her hands into painful stone over the years felt pliant and strong again in the doctor's grasp. She raised herself from the dirty bed and felt like a miracle patient who regained their youth in an instant by drinking an elixir featured in one of those old snakeoil cartoons she would watch when she was but a little maiden. Around them, the emergency sirens and alarms, now powered only by dumb mana, continued to blare over the hollers of the confused denizens of the hospice. None of this mattered to Glam'ryn anymore because she was going to a wonderful party away from the filth and pain of that terrible place.

"Yes, I have everything!" she exclaimed with youthful glee as she stood beside the gilded doctor in her soiled bedgown. "Let's get out of here and have some fun!"

And to that party they went...

***

For many, the day of the arrival was the cause of anything from woe to mere annoyance, but it was a day that would affect all of elfdom, of that, there was no doubt. Coach crashes, unfortunate accidents, destroyed heirlooms and ruined dinners occurred all over the great kingdom that afternoon. From the center of Corosa to the northern coastal metropolis of Caidhul, some form of mayhem or loss consumed the lives of the fine elves of Atlantis. Not a corner of the nation was untouched by this affair and its resulting tremors as not one of its citizens was ignorant of the event. That was, all the elves of Atlantis with the exception of Nod'renn "Noddy" Buchlaa.

This foolish young elf was unconscious during the whole incident as he attempted to make himself faint on a dare dealt by one of his reckless buddies at his University dorm. Amidst the cheers and prodding of his dorm mates, he squatted against a wall while taking numerous deep breaths before jumping back up as quick as a fox. " _Go! Go! Go! Go!_ " they cheered him on in unison. Upon hopping up, he lost all consciousness in a single instant and fell face-forward onto the hard floor of the austere student housing. Mere moments after his ridiculous stunt, the quakes hit throughout the kingdom and his laughing friends abandoned him with haste to his blackout. He did not regain consciousness until later that night, long after the earth settled and the area's power was restored. While he explored the desolate halls of his dormitory, he simply thought the whole floor was perpetuating their collegiate prank.

"All right, everybody. Joke's over. Come on out now!" He noticed that night had fallen outside as it had become ominous and dim throughout the lonely halls. He had been out for hours. After a bit of unsuccessful searching for another elf, he began to get nervous.

"Hello? Anyone?"

It would be a full week before anybody was around those halls to answer him.
Little Mija

**M** orning sunlight burst through the gigantic arched window of the Mitlan's dining room. Venn'lith sat alone at the head of an enormous table which could seat a party of twenty with ease. She stared off towards the kitchen's archway while eating a multi-grain cereal, scowling, as she was always grouchy in the mornings. Her father was next to the hearth making boisterous stock deals over the phone to his broker. Venn'lith attempted to put herself into a deep trance so she could block out the din of his barks and the assaulting rays of sunshine.

"I need to make a solid deal for weapons-grade red mana now!" her father hollered through his crisis. "Buy up all that you can from United Manaworks, and when you are done with that, try Consolidated Power and Light. I need as many shares from these guys as you can get your grubby hands on! Got me? Just look at the rate this power is going for per unit! It's over _nine thousand!_ "

The stock market had exploded since the arrival of the strange hulks the night before. This happening was what was known throughout the Circle of Finance as a _Black Swan Event_ ; an unexpected fluke. Centeo Mitlan was not about to let this momentous occasion go to waste. He didn't have three beachside mansions on three different continents by strolling down the paths of the lazy. Today, everything was up for grabs, most of all, weapons. Something big was about to happen with these unidentified structures, he knew well, and he was not going to be left out of possibly the largest financial race of his entire career.

"Weapons," he added. "I need to invest in weapons as well as power. Buy anything possible from ComStructure Light Arms and make sure to check out Veren'jee GolemCorp too." Lord Mitlan was strutting in the kitchen back and forth booming these orders to his broker with a manaphone in one hand and a mug of rich, imported Xochian coffee in the other. He watched the morning sun crawl up the height of the clear sky with a sense of arrogance.

Venn'lith had two things on her mind right then: a new gown and a certain young male. She couldn't be bothered with her father's business prattle that filled the entire first floor of their domain. She, for a moment, covered her pointed ears to stifle the aggravating sensations of that early morning and felt a bit nauseous from it all. Off to her right, Ping, their family's housewarden, floated down the hall toward the kitchen.

"Ping!" Venn'lith croaked to the Tel'lemurian servant, hoping to redirect her.

"Yes, Maiden Venn'lith," the warden answered with her usual obedience, never making eye contact.

"Clear this table and try to get Father's attention. When you are done with that, I need you to prepare my bath," the Xochian teen ordered her.

"As you command, Maiden Venn'lith," she responded as if she were an automaton.

Venn'lith locked her gaze onto her housewarden's performance while she cleared the breakfast dishes onto a serving cart. Her ebon eyes never left the movements of the tiny sea elf who was becoming visibly nervous. The elfmaid was tempted to "accidentally" trip her employee because she wanted a good laugh, but decided she would have to forgo such entertainment this morning considering Father's heated dealings. Judging from his tone, she knew that none of her designs would grab his attention. Venn'lith enjoyed playing such games with the help at a rather common frequency.

Spared from Venn'lith's spontaneous whims after finishing her duty, Ping spirited away with a feeling of relief towards the kitchen. The young sun elf got out of her seat and followed the warden. She needed to be sure the Tel'lemurian would summon her father.

"Wonderful!" Centeo rejoiced to the broker. "I knew you could do it! Keep me posted on any developments. I don't want to be outfoxed by any of those cursed speculations this time. Get me all the special-stash info, like always. The gods only know what will develop with this situation today. We will be neck-deep in brens by this afternoon; mark my words! Until later."

When she knew it was safe to utter a peep, the housewarden called to Father. "Lord Mitlan, Maiden Venn'lith wishes to speak with you."

"Certainly, Ping!" he boomed in an exuberated voice, reflecting his beaming mood. "Ah, there you are, _Mija_!" he said with much pride as he took notice of his daughter who was standing in the kitchen's far corner. As he was in a good mood that day, Venn'lith knew that good moods meant his attention and compliance; at least for a moment.

"Good morning, _Papi_!" Venn'lith smiled the sweetest grin she would use when she wanted something from her father.

The housewarden slid out of the kitchen without making a noise, grateful to be out of the spoiled Xochian's spiteful glare. Lord Mitlan diverted his eyes with some haste from his daughter to the mid-sized manascreen which hung down from the kitchen's ceiling. The screen displayed footage of the pyramid while stock quotes zoomed past on the superimposition at the bottom of the image. Venn'lith was happy to have at least partial attention from her father, but knew she needed to be quick because that was apt to change as suddenly as a flash of lightning with him.

"So, what does my little ocelot need of me today?" he managed in a doting tone.

"Well, _Papi_ , there is a party this weekend, and I really, _really_ need a new gown for it," the elfmaid managed to stress the urgency in as saccharine of a way as possible.

"But why a new gown? Every one of them you have in your closets are Xochian imports," he argued with a bored wave.

"Yes, I know, but the party has an Atlantean theme to it, and I just don't have anything like that," she debated. "You know how they say: 'When in Corosa, do as the Corosans.'"

"Yes, yes," Lord Mitlan agreed without pause. "We do need to better acclimate you to this new land. Very well, go out and see to your needs. Which, by the way, you can do immediately. School has been cancelled for the whole week!"

That day was only getting better and better. Venn'lith felt an actual faint glimpse of charity for refraining from torturing her poor housewarden. Any opportunity to shop was always welcome in her opinion and the fish-scale wraparound she had her eyes on would be hers.

"Excellent!" she squealed as she engulfed her father's huge frame with a hug.

On the screen, the usual streaming image of the pyramid was broken by a graphic alerting the viewing public of another special report. Lord Mitlan all but threw his daughter's embrace off of him and turned to the screen in one deft movement. Venn'lith's abysmal eyes bore Kumarian daggers in his back as thoughts of silent revenge for the rebuff ran through her mind while her lips puckered into a lush pout. He swiped the manaphone back into his hand like a cobra's strike so he could be on the ready to make the next call.

The warning graphic was cut to the familiar face of Quay'liss Dalian. She looked every bit as fresh that morning as she did the night before despite the nation's chaotic circumstances.

"Good morning, Atlantis!" she began. "Our communications' blackout with the other nations from around the world is finally breaking. We are happy to have resumed connection with the kingdoms of Kumari, Kamden and Thuless'in a mere five minutes ago. We bring you now to Bendalay Venway, elder warden for the Circle of Energy from Kumari, just outside the grand city of Band'jee. Thank you for being with us today, Elder Venway."

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Dalian," the high elf greeted back. Lord Mitlan's sights were transfixed to the news report without any hope of tearing away from it.

It was all over the world. Behind the power elder, a pyramid identical to the ones dotting the Atlantean countryside poked out like an ominous wedge of rainbow cheese amidst a lush Kumari jungle. Patrolling alongside orange- and gold-tinted power golems, fifteen-foot-tall nathas trudged the pyramid's perimeter. Nathas were a species of elf endemic to Kumari that were almost double the height of the normal variety and perhaps a third as intelligent. Although they were held with a high regard in their homelands for their ox-like strength, many non-Kumari elves haughtily referred to them as "ogres." Venn'lith was included amongst those bigoted ranks.

"As you can plainly see, we too have been visited by these strange objects," Venway announced in a thick Kumarian accent, which was considered rather musical compared to the dry and blunt tongue of the grey elves of Atlantis. "According to our clocks, they appeared in our nation at exactly the same time as the arrivals in your kingdom. Almost perfectly synchronous."

"By the gods! This is multinational," Lord Mitlan exclaimed to no one in particular as he ordered the phone to contact his broker. He was brimming with excitement and, as he had predicted, this would prove to be a very lucrative event.

Joining Elder Venway on an opposing half of the screen, the elder warden of the Thuless'in Circle of Defense greeted Lady Dalian. Thuless'in had also been visited by the objects as was seen by another one of the ubiquitous, monumental forms jutting out of a smooth snow bank from behind the burly frost elf. Defense Elder Diggi Tor'digg did not know the Atlantean language, so the manascreen had to translate the Thuless'in's speech. Venn'lith found the translation quite comical as the screen's gentle, feminine voice lent a sharp contrast to the stocky, masculine face of the grim warmonger.

"Welcome to this meeting, Elder Tor'digg," the newscaster announced with a hint of an annoyed groan under her words.

Back and forth, the two elders would banter with each other as to what was the nature of the hulks and what their governments should do about them. The Thuless'in wanted to investigate by attempting to infiltrate their interiors while Venway vehemently protested his ungainly idea. Both did agree, however, that the arrival was alien. Tor'digg speculated that they were from another planet or galaxy while Venway argued that they were of an entire separate dimension. Venn'lith, on the other hand, could have cared less.

As the two elders bickered, a light from atop the Kumarian pyramid begin to pulse without warning in the broadcast's background. Within seconds, the Thuless'in's hulk followed in suit. This only triggered her father as he began crying into the phone at his broker a long laundry list of the names of companies and corporations in which he held stock. Venn'lith could not stand the clamor any longer and slipped out of the kitchen and made her way through the cavernous home towards her bath.

The tub was shaped like a giant seashell and was cast of mother-of-pearl from edge to edge. Ping had drawn it just as her mistress had ordered and this helped save Venn'lith some of the headache of having to punish the Tel'lemurian. The young sun elf no longer felt the lust to play her cruel games with the staff. She wanted to be ready and out of the house as soon as possible.

As she bathed, she debated with herself about whether to buy the fish-scale wraparound or the sharkskin. Atlantean high fashion had almost always incorporated the hide of some sort of sea life. Pearls, corals, and shells were frequent additions to their couture which differed from the catskins, gold and any variety of parrots' plumage with which the Xochians would adorn. All of this cultural difference was both exciting and frustrating for her. In class and in social gatherings, her foreign accoutrements made her something of a novelty, but novelty can wear thin, the elfmaid worried. It was time to go shopping.

In her voluminous bedroom, Venn'lith stood in front of her mirror which made a good effort to occupy the length of one wall and was curved at either end so that she could view herself from multiple angles. Its true, perfect glass was framed inside mana-cured acacia from Gonduanna. Like her fashion, the room was decorated with a Xochian design of leopard furs and macaw feathers. Gold, turquoise and terracotta colors swirled in a symphony of wealth around her.

At a height of 5'10", she was considered rather petite for an elfmaid of her age, although years of playing runta had given her a very muscular frame. Her months in Atlantis had already drained some of the color from her usual caramel complexion of which she was so proud. Xochians from the northeastern coasts were blessed with the natural luxury of living in the bright, hot sun for almost three hundred sixty-five days of the year. The last thing she wanted to do was lock herself in a sun casket like all the natives of her new home tended to during the autumn and winter. She thought the phony tans made them look tawdry and fake, not to mention a bit foolish.

She ordered the mirror to show her what the sharkskin dress would look like on her. " _Imago Lodon,_ " she chanted her desire. Before her very eyes, the mirror's image dressed her in a bluish squaline gown that flattered her form like a charm, but did not meet with her toasty complexion very well.

"Can't win them all," she muttered with much disappointment under her breath. " _Imago Picussin_ ," she spat to the mirror in manaspeech.

As with the sharkskin gown, the fish-scale fit her shape well. It was Venn'lith's opinion that her figure could look amazing even in a burlap bag. The garment was designed from the hides of giant triggerfish. Its bright yellow base was splashed at random with fluorescent-blue and black amoeboid forms which assisted in activating her skin tones and she felt like the sun goddess herself. The decision was made. The fish-scale it would be.

She went to her dresser, which too had a curved mirror and began to apply smoky plum and gold colors to her face. She marveled at how perfectly her features sloped and how gentle her angles were compared to Atlantis's grey elfmaidens who were much more abrupt and chiseled in their facial structures. Venn'lith thought they looked too masculine and stony. In her opinion, a female should be softer. That was a quality she possessed which drew the males at school toward her in a trance; that and her heavy Xochian accent. She had decided even before relocating to this new land that she would never lose that flavor and whenever she was the center of the opposite sex's attention, which was quite often, she played it up.

In her closet, which was about the size of Ping's entire living quarters, Venn'lith scanned the racks for a dress that was as close to Atlantean fashion as possible for practice. She decided on a shimmering white dolphinskin gown that wrapped over one shoulder and left the other bare. It was cut a few inches below the knees and would become ever the more translucent as it approached the bottom hem. Although it was of Xochian design, at least it conformed to the aquatic styles of Atlantis. She found it a bit amusing that she was wearing the skin of an animal which was assumed to be the evolutionary ancestor to the elven race. From rumors she had heard, such a hide was illegal to even own in the kingdoms of Tel'lemuria and Kumari.

Back at her dresser, she sculpted her thick, jet-black hair into a downward crescent that pointed sharply at either side of her face. It contrasted against the upward curves of her high and pointed ears. After what seemed like an eternity, she piled on pounds of amber and gold jewelry before applying a vanilla scent to her neck, wrists and under her arms. Nearby, her imported pet guinea pig was lapping water from its bottle with as much greed as her father had for brens. As she got up to leave, the tiny rodent turned toward her in a flash with a wide-eyed surprised stare. She found this adorable and giggled.

"Oh, you sweet little piggy!" she cooed.

She strutted down the vaulted main hall which was lit up top-to-bottom from one side by the light of a gigantic aquarium. The tank itself was a priceless work of contemporary Atlantean art, crafted by the famous sculptor Ved'gaard Ginn. Instead of water, it was filled with glowing blue mana which suspended an embalmed dolphin with perfect equilibrium. A red rose jutted out of the side of its beak like a delicate hematoma.

At the far end of the hall, yet another one of the elfmaid's foreign pets lounged in a curl on the floor. The albino jaguar patted its tail without care on the checkered marble flooring, basking in the blue ambiance of the tank. Not one blemish of color could be found on its body save its pink eyes. Near the great cat, a large puddle collected on the floor.

Venn'lith sauntered over to the beast in a quick, steady movement and lorded over it; her deep brown eyes hardening to a dead black. With full-forced lightning reflexes, the maiden backhanded the jaguar with her golden-manicured fingernails which were as long as a Xochian raptor's.

" _Blanca_!" she growled at the cat.

The defeated beast let out a kitten-like mew and waddled low to the ground in shame and humiliation, hoping to get as far away from her mistress and as quickly as possible. Venn'lith's strike dug two burning gashes on the top of its alabaster head. The elfmaid's rage was still not sated and she imagined roasting the rare cat on a spit.

"Ping!" she bellowed though the hall. " _Ping!_ Clean this up _now_!"

As if by some mystical force, the little housewarden appeared almost within that instant.

"Yes, Maiden Venn'lith; as you command," she responded with a meek bow.

Although Venn'lith enjoyed Ping's immediate responses to her whims and wishes, she was also a bit disturbed by her silent quickness. If anyone could dare to assassinate her, the teen suspected, this young lady would be an apt candidate for the job. It was a concept she had been keeping in mind as of late and she tried her best to track the warden's whereabouts.

The elfmaid looked down at her diminutive employee with a suspicious squint and hissed, " _I should tie a bell around your neck!_ " while storming into the kitchen to find her purse. She couldn't be any more bothered as she needed to check her messages.

Father was nowhere to be seen. He must, the maiden assumed, have rushed off to the Circle of Finance to wheel and deal his way through this supposed momentous economic occasion. She looked out the large kitchen window to find his coach gone from their expansive courtyard.

She noticed that Father had left the screen awake. She ordered the device to scan through different channels, but each and every one of them displayed the same special report involving the pyramids. She was growing weary of the newscasts, especially how repetitive they were. It was certain, the governments knew much more than they were letting the public in on. Her father probably knew more himself from his elite circle of insider-trading buddies. On the screen, the same two elders were discussing their respective pyramids just as they were when she had last left the kitchen.

"These flashing lights are consistent with the activity of your pyramids," the Kumari elder reported. "As far as we know, Atlantis, Thuless'in, and my twin nations of Kumari-Kamden have numerous pyramids that are all pulsating now with this orange light. The odd thing is they are all blinking at exactly the same time no matter where on Earth they rest."

"Of course!" the frost elf elder interjected with a bold huff. "This is obviously some form of alien fuse! It is a countdown and it will mean the possible destruction of our entire species when these...these _things_ detonate! They are indeed bombs and we need to intervene with force before it is too late for every one of us! I elect that all the kingdoms of Earth unite to form a plan to investigate, infiltrate and ultimately, defuse this menace before we are wiped out!"

Although the genteel voice of the translator on the screen sang his Thuless'in words with a beautiful grace, those words were still quite foreboding and even Venn'lith's icy demeanor was a bit shaken by Tor'digg's notion. She figured that she had better get that fish-scale dress before the final end of elfdom. Perhaps the boutique would be selling it at fire-sale prices, considering the circumstances.

Quay'liss Dalian was never the one to let a good crisis turn away viewers, but the frost elf defense elder was apt to cause an international panic with his seemingly adamant decision to attack the hulks. This was the last thing the newsie wanted her reports to trigger, especially if the pyramids did turn out to be a benign blemish on the earth.

"Tor'digg?" the reporter stopped the elder's rant with a tone of gentle condensation. "Tor'digg, we still don't know for certain the nature of these structures and we cannot jump to those kinds of conclusions yet. So far, nothing other than some blinking lights have come from the hulks. Other than some slight damage to mostly unpopulated areas, we can assure you; these things are thus far, harmless."

"Yes, Lady Dalian, you are most likely correct," Elder Venway agreed. "If you consider the invariably common placement of these objects as being set away from population centers, almost as if they were _trying_ to be careful, you will know that harm is not likely the intent here, my friend. It is my best assessment that the pulsating lights on the top of these pyramids, or ziggurats, or whatever you wish to call them are not occurring for the purpose of a detonation. No, the lights are meant to beckon, not destroy. There is very little chance if you breach these structures that you will find an explosive of some type. That is why we should not molest these objects without further study of them. These things are not bombs. These lights are beacons."

"Ha!" the frost elf belted back with forceful gusto at his high elf contemporary. "And what do you suppose they beckon? Ducks and flying bunnies?" With that, the defense elder boomed defiant laughter at the ecologist.

"Atlantis's meddling with Mars is what triggered this, I am certain," Tor'digg stated with the pride of an icy rooster. "Your nation's foolish curiosity with a world you do not understand has obviously awoken an unseen force you haven't accounted for. These sentiments also extend to Kumari and Kamden. I cast shame on your kingdoms for endowing your talents and resources in collusion with this outrageous exploration!"

Venn'lith had enough of this annoying debate, and she could not be bothered with the stupid political drama which would, without a doubt, last for hours. She had to get out on the roads before they were jammed with refugees or perhaps, looters. The last thing she wanted was to find the object of her desire pilfered by some worthless dreg who was frightened by his very shadow.

" _Telen'vid Duro_ ," she ordered the screen to power-off with an exasperated hiss. Its ultra-thin layer of liquid mana which formed the images and sounds of the broadcast recoiled and evaporated from its canvas surface with a poof and a puff.

Spotting her purse which was forged from gold-banded mail; she swiped it off the wall rack and rushed out the door. The sun was still beaming in the sky and she loved the way it kissed her skin now that she was more awake. The weather was beautiful for the late spring season and it almost, _almost_ felt like her homeland. She felt powerful in its glow.

Her gold and bright-yellow coach was enameled with excellence and hewn from the finest cured gingko. Her father bought it for her for her sixteenth birthday the month before. She was already growing weary of it and was devising plans to convince Father to buy her another one. The coach was rather small and could only seat four elves at any one time with difficulty. The door was locked, which was unusual since she lived in a gated home and she left nothing of value inside the cab.

" _Capso abrenn, Venn'lith_ ," she chanted to the coach as she lost her patience. It was signified to unlock and activate only to her and her father's voices. Coach theft was all but a virtual impossibility unless the offender was somehow able to signify himself through furtive means with the manaflow of another's vehicle.

At her command, the streamlined doors unlocked and the frame of the coach began to lift off from the ground on a two-foot bed of steady and gentle-purring mana. The manaball at the front end of the sleek, teardrop-shaped vehicle began to pulse with an energy which would pull its hull forward. Their family's coachmaster had just tuned it up that past weekend and the well-polished white-gold trim and bumpers were blinding in the sunshine. Its bow ornament, which was cast into the shape of a winged sabercat, shimmered with a high polish as well. The raw power within the manaball engine hummed with an invisible force, ready to transport the Xochian. " _woobwoobwoobwoob..._ "

The coach sped along the oceanside highway en route to the Grand Market of Corosa, which was the premiere shopping plaza of the Atlantean capital city. Venn'lith's gold-enameled fingers lightly touched the trackball which controlled her direction. She looked off to the left of the winding road and scanned the calm waters. A pod of porpoises were playing with a confused orca and this made the elfmaid feel good inside. Over and under the waves, the gallant beasts would crash as the orca would jump up as soon as the porpoises submerged.

The sun elf decided to make a quick detour on the way to the market. Since the roads were much calmer than the night before, she figured the blueskin's doomsaying had not riled the general public enough yet, although the market would still be crowded, Venn'lith was certain. Many people probably took the day off of work due to the pyramids. The highway was nonetheless populated with some coaches that were burdened with baggage and furniture strapped to their roofs as their occupants hoped to relocate to wherever they imagined would provide safety.

"Fools," Venn'lith thought aloud with a spit. They run like sheep and die like lemmings. Such was the behaviors of the lowest common denominator. They should be out shopping, judged the young elfmaid.

By instinct, she pulled her phone from her purse and gleaned the glowing screen for her messages. Most of the people on her list she felt were either annoying at worst, expendable at best. To be sure, the elfmaid was quite popular. Her inbox was nearly sixty calls long; all from different people composed just last night. Many of them were females who wanted to be her, while the bulk of the list was from males who wanted to be with her. No matter the gender, all of them feared the maiden in some capacity and she liked it that way.

Looking at the list, one particular query stood out from a male with whom she had been more than mildly interested. She figured she needed a shopping partner for the day, and she didn't feel like listening to the boring prattle of her female entourage. Males were better company on the many days she felt annoyed. They didn't talk as much and bother her with imaginary crises and drama which could prove to give her a headache and make her ears throb. Yes, they would ogle her form and attempt to impress her with trite one-liner jokes, but all she had to do was let out a slight giggle and the beasts would be satisfied. This was much preferable to the impromptu therapy sessions her maiden-friends begged of her. However, those same maidens were quite the wellspring of information and gossip. Venn'lith knew an elfmaid such as her may very well be the target of character assassination one day and they proved to be a valuable asset. Jealously was like that.

As for females, Venn'lith was a bit curious about one particular classmate, namely, the one called Quen'die Reyliss. She was supposed to be one of the school's junior league runta champions. Venn'lith would make sure to change that record when the new season began. Back home in her native land, she was all but unbeatable. The Xochian teen had been observing her future rival at school and noted that she was somewhat popular and quite the academic, but figured the grey elf stood very little chance against her when it came to males. First of all, Quen'die dressed like a jock and never much in any other style. She had no style, as a matter-of-fact. Sure, she was tall, but it was a lanky height that reminded Venn'lith of a Gonduannian giraffe. The most unflattering aspect to her appearance was her blanched skin. If this grey elf were ever to wander out on a Xochian beach, she would blind all the bathers with certainty before turning as red as her hair and combusting. The sun elf thought that notion was funny and giggled aloud. As for her attitude, she had none at all. Venn'lith had noted that the naive elfmaid froze like a doe whenever she attempted to converse with the males. It was painful watching her try to win the attentions of that gorgeous runta captain. Quen'die had no hope as far as he was concerned; well, very little hope. Just to be sure, Venn'lith would nip the competition in the bud starting that day.

Venn'lith ordered the number in question from the manaphone and waited for his answer. He should be grateful that she deigned to call him back, she huffed to herself. After a few short moments, she heard the other side pick-up. "Hello?"

"I'm coming over. Be ready," she commanded without making any greeting while hamming up her Xochian accent.

"Yeah, but I...," the lad attempted.

"Whatever. I am not waiting for you," she sputtered. "I will be at your home in ten minutes."

"Uh... yes. Very well then," he relented. The large elf on the other end was not the one for many words.

Males were so easy. It was going to be a smooth day after all, the sun elf smiled. Perhaps she could get him to buy her lunch at the new Tel'lemurian bistro which had opened down the promenade of the Grand Market from the boutique. It was rumored to have specialized in many varieties of mushrooms and noodles and she loved eating with chopsticks.

With a silent halt, she set down the coach off the side of the road from the young elf's family courtyard a few minutes later. She was a bit worried that she was early, but she could not resist the urge to speed alongside the ocean under that remarkable sky. It mattered not; she knew he would be ready to go, as the lads always were.

She rang the bell and in less than an instant, the young elf filled the doorway fully dressed in a rather inexpensive, but still fashionable summer tunic with his black topknot groomed to shining perfection. This was exactly what she expected and she always welcomed the promptness of others.

"Greetings, Lith," the elf smiled.

"Greetings, Hyrax," she flashed the lad a grin with her flawless teeth. "Care to come out and play?"
Black Hood Bubblegum

**D** owntown Corosa City was coping with the monoliths' appearances in a calm way that surprised almost everyone. Tor'digg's theory of an alien attack was not left unnoticed by the citizens of the city, but neither was Venway's. A common consensus of the people was to wait and see what would happen. A total of one hundred forty-eight hulks were counted across the provinces of Atlantis alone and many elves did not feel that they had anywhere to flee; if flight was necessary. No matter where they figured they could turn, they would simply move from the shadow of one juggernaut and into the shade of another. Not a wonder, the sales of casters and red mana cartridges were rampant; just in case that whatever peopled those things was not friendly. When giving the broadcasts a closer view, one could see that the structures did indeed have a door, and it was a _big_ door. To most elves, that meant one of two things: there was either an army of elven-sized beings or a couple of giants huddled in there. Despite the perceived calm, many of Corosa's citizens were off work due to this event just as the schools were closed. And that meant the streets were bustling.

On'dinn Jak'sin was squeezing his slight frame through the double doors of the Sea and Shell Trading Company that afternoon. The establishment's name was a bit misleading as it sold no seafood or marine life, but rather coffee, tea and spice imports. It was very popular throughout the city and its café was a stomping ground for all types of elves, even some celebrities. That month, the new craze was the imported Xochian tangerine mocha and the whole place reeked of chocolate and citrus. As so many people had the day off to enjoy at their leisure; the place was jam-packed with elves chattering on about the big news.

Minn'dre Harvatt was steaming coffees from around the world at a frantic pace to satisfy the orders of the queue which was snaking out the door and halfway around the block. The money would be good today and the tips were already quite generous, but she was earning every bren of it. On'dinn spotted her from over the tops of the milling elves, but the crowd was so condensed that he figured there was no way of jumping to the front of it today, as was a usual attempt for him.

"Hey Minnie!" the flaxen-haired elf waved his slender hands. "I got your message!" He had to yell over the din of the crowd. Although he was a frequent denizen of the café, he could not recount it ever being so populated.

Minn'dre could only gesture for him to wait a moment. Although the counter was staffed to its maximum duty, the five baristas could only work with enough speed to accommodate such a throng. Taking her cue, On'dinn found an odd corner of the establishment's bistro portion that was vacant. How he managed to find the spot was nothing short of divine luck.

The young elf pulled his tablet out of his shoulder bag and gleaned through the inbox on its screen. Minn'dre wanted to meet him that afternoon for another "mission," as she called it. Ever since joining the Black Hood Group, On'dinn felt a sense of focus for his beliefs. At last, he could put his head together with the minds, the open minds, of people who were serious about making a change for a good cause. To him, it was preferable to the brainless sports and athletic concerns so many of the other elves at his school would bother. A healthy body, to be sure, was important, but the mind needed flexing as well. So many elves of his age just couldn't understand this concept as they hopped and jumped on the runta fields and ringball courts without a care in existence. The world, he assumed, needed that care and someone had to step up to such a great plate. It was a sign of bravery no noble could match, in his opinion.

The message from Minn'dre was sent over the flow in a secret encryption under her Black Hood alias "Nightbloom." He double-checked the contents to see if he was early or late, but he was quite certain that the appointment was on the mark. Punctuality was not one of On'dinn's qualities and he had promised himself that he would make a concerted effort to work on that. The message on the tablet's screen read:

From: Nightbloom

To: Basil

Meet at SSTC for instructions. Afternoon-2 P.M. Big Oak found a new grotto! Bring a can of paint (black, of course).

MARS IS NOT OURS!

Cute!

Ever since reading that last line of the message, On'dinn had been walking with a spring in his already-slight step. He couldn't believe a maiden in the University would attach such a disclaimer to an adept school student. Those monoliths dominating the city's skyline could be full of murderous orcs and he would still be elated in the back of his mind. Minn'dre was so remarkable and he loved her platinum-blond hair which was cut short and ended in a sharp bang that would drape over the left side of her face, despite it being somewhat unfashionable. At all times, only one of her eyes could be seen except when she flipped her head. Regardless of his joy, the suspense of the message was killing him and he was waiting with bated breath for her to fill him in on the plan.

His fugue was broken at last when one of the waitresses chimed in to take his order, "Hey, On'dinn, can I get you something?"

It was Shae'gin; at least he thought that was her name. He couldn't rightfully remember and he didn't really care at that moment.

"Uh, hello," he was still collecting his bearings from his daydream of beautiful maidens and political intrigue. "Yeah, I would like the usual. A vanilla juice."

"Okay, got'cha," she chanted his order into her tablet.

"Hey, do you know when Minnie gets a break?" He couldn't believe how desperate he felt over a female. At school, many of the maidens seemed quite entranced by his political discourses in class and a few of them even braved asking him to social gatherings. He always thought it was funny how they would approach him as if he was some ancient relic that may or may not curse them if they got too close. Sure, they were pretty, but how someone with half a brain could be satisfied with the company of such prosaic, dare he say, boring people was beyond his grasp. A night out with a cheerleader would be heaven to a less-evolved elf, but dull as a butterknife as far as he was concerned. Minn'dre was much different from that ilk.

"Oh, she's on break in a few minutes. I'll let her know you're in the bistro," Shae'gin answered.

"Capital. Thanks."

As expected, a few minutes later, the striking blond maiden arrived to his table as did his order. She was beaming a smile and appeared to hold an honest joy to see him. She was still wearing her denim apron which was stained with many varieties of spices and herbs. Underneath, she wore the uniform sleeveless, green gown which displayed the company's logo with verdant pride. To On'dinn, she smelled as beautiful as she looked.

"On'dinn! I'm so glad you made it over!" The mirth in her voice was infectious. No matter how heated Black Hood meetings could get, Minn'dre always seemed to maintain that bright, positive demeanor and he loved it. Once, he wrote a poem about her and described her temperament as "insanely happy." He never, of course, shared this poem with anyone as it remained filed in secret, away within the dark recesses of his tablet. Maybe, one day he would have the guts to read it to her. "I hope you didn't have a problem with the crowds on the streets. It's a madhouse out there!"

"Tell me about it! I was nearly run over twice by coaches," he informed her. "So, what's going on today?"

"Plenty, elf, plenty," she said as she handed him the juice. "Travius found the Group a new place and he wants to hold a special meeting in it tonight. That's where you come in. You did bring a can of spraypaint, yes?"

"Black, like you said," he assured as he patted his shoulder bag. "Right here."

"Great. I need you to take this stencil and throw a tag up on a building on the corner of Fifth and Wampler. It's in an alley. Apply the tag on the first door you see on the red clay building. That door, of course, leads to the new HQ."

He loved the way she was plotting, like it was as natural as chatting about the weather. He supposed males were more into the daring notion of espionage as depicted on a manascreen show. Then again, she was two years older. Perhaps this _was_ just business as usual for her.

The elf took the stencil and gave it a thorough perusal. "This one is different than usual."

"Of course. We don't want the authorities getting _too_ used to our branding, so Travius likes to shake the bag a little," she explained. "Besides, a new HQ equals a new look. What do you think?"

"It's a better rendition than the last one. More of a graphic presence this time." This design was that of a hood which folded downward from a frontal view. Inside the darkness of the hood, revealed a veiled portion of a smiley face. "It's kind of funny in a morbid way. Did you design it?"

"Sure did," Minn'dre quipped. "I was up sketching these things out for hours. I think I made about twenty different versions, but Travius settled on this one."

Knowing she was in charge of the group's branding made her all the more amazing to him. Not only was she beautiful and intelligent, she was also quite talented. On'dinn wished he could draw better, but he was more of a thinker and a debater and he felt secure with himself in those areas.

"Well, I think it's great," the lad beamed. "When does he want it thrown up?"

"As soon as possible," she told him with a blunt air of authority. "I would wish that you have it on the wall before the sun sets. Now, that's the second part. After you're done with the tag, just wait across the street in that little park for me. It might take me some time, but you can't miss the meeting. It's tonight at 6 p.m."

"Gotta plan B if I'm spotted?" This plot was piquing his interest more and more. Tagging on a wall, even if in an alley, was considered vandalism by the civil wardens and On'dinn knew he could very well end up in the dungeon if caught.

"You'll be fine," she reassured him. "Just act natural when you reach the site. Besides, the wardens are too busy trying to control the chaos out there from those pyramids. That's why Travius figured this would be a great time to upgrade operations."

"Any idea what the meeting's about?" He splashed some of his juice by nervous accident on his t-shirt which pled for the consideration of personhood for a species of cave-dwellers known as troglodytes. " _They Use Tools, You Fools_!" was proudly displayed in a giant black script across the white fabric.

"Not a clue, but Travius told me that it's gonna be big and that all members need to attend tonight. It's mandatory." Minn'dre surveyed the floor and saw yet another wave of customers filing through. "I really have to get back, but just make your way over to the site and get that tag up as soon as possible."

"What about the rest of the group?" On'dinn asked. He could see that she was anxious to get back to her crowd of ruffling patrons.

"I'll mail all of them before I get back to my shift. They'll see the tag, so they'll know precisely where to find the headquarters. Just keep calm, act natural and please, don't get caught." She was already rising out of her seat to get to her ordering tablet.

"Okay, will do. Fifth and Wampler. Got it," the lad relayed the information in a hurry, but Minn'dre was being swallowed by the hubbub of the thirsty clientele. At that moment, On'dinn felt like a rookie, which in a sense he was compared to Minn'dre.

He surmised he had very little time to waste. Although the site of the new headquarters was nearby, he still needed to navigate through the bustle on the streets and apply the signage to the wall. Never one to be materialistic, he wished at a time like this that he had a coach, or at least a cycle. With the traffic as jammed as it was, he could probably make better time on foot, anyway he guessed.

On'dinn waded through the crowds of elves that choked the streets. Overhead, the sky was turning pink and he figured a storm would be arriving. That could help out matters because it would drive any curious elves inside while he was tagging. The downside was that his paint would wash away if he didn't hurry. He had to be quicker about this than what called for in his original plan. If the rain made a few dramatic streaks through the signature that could lend a nice effect, but a full torrent of water would destroy the integrity of the design. There was no way he wanted to blow this one.

By the time he reached the designated area, he had to survey the alleyway from a bench on the park across the street. This situation wasn't in his favor as elves walking their hounds populated the grounds and the sky above him was becoming rosier with the storm. One of the park's patrons was a young female who was walking two domesticated black leopards. Trotting down Wampler, two mounted civil wardens patrolled the area. The armor on their steeds matched their own colors. He was getting a bit nervous and he pretended to read his cured-elm tablet so he might appear more inconspicuous.

"Gods! Come on!" He was soon becoming nerve-wracked. Protesting was a fine activity for the political footsoldier. One was out in the open, chanting slogans and sometimes one had to wear a bandana or a mask if the cause was particularly controversial. It was legal (usually) and one could get a lot of press and sometimes a little bit of change for the better. A nice philosophical debate in the classroom or cafe was his favorite method of politicking, as he saw it, but this cloak-and-dagger stuff was aggravating. Timing would be of the essence.

"Let's see... If I can see the alley, everyone here can see me, but if I throw the tag deeper into it, I should be all right," he mumbled to himself. Not only was the rose sky turning salmon, but the air was beginning to stink of the ocean. This was going to be one beast of a storm and his tag would be ruined, and hence, the group would not find the location. He had already lollied there for a half hour. They all had to make this meeting come rain, which was for certain, or shine. It was the new HQ, after all.

The young elf grabbed his bag and shoved his tablet into it. "Okay, I gotta do this _now_!" he blurted aloud as he looked at the irate clouds above him. The equine units were gone and he looked above once again to make sure there weren't any buzzing flitcycles patrolling in conjunction with the Mounties. That's how the wardens nabbed lawbreakers most often - overhead interference. Always look up, the lad remembered.

Once he reached the alley, On'dinn trekked through the bins of waste and offal to check for any derelicts lounging about. He knew just from the police shows on the screen that bums were a frequent source of information for the wardens; for the right price. All he needed to do was to be spotted through one lazy eye of a drunk hidden amongst the refuse and the next thing he knew, he'd have wanted posters tacked all over the place featuring his description and his crime.

So far, so good, he judged. The alley was free of elven traffic and only a couple of rats would be made audience to his devices. Unlike the bums, rats didn't have loose lips. On'dinn gave the alleyway a double-take and found that no elves were in eyeshot of his vantage point. It was time to make some art.

For a homemade design, it was really brilliant and it made him think of Minn'dre with even more warmth. He was so proud and jealous of her at the same time as his ebon spray unveiled her proof-of-product on the red wall. It was like they were a perfect force working together. She devised the vision and he was putting it out there; realizing it. In some ways, he thought, this meeting of minds was better than a first date with her. Well, maybe a first date would be better, he recanted.

After the tag was fully applied, he stood back to admire it. It was on pretty straight and it looked really clean. It was on the wall next to a green door which On'dinn supposed led to the new headquarters. On the wall above the tag, but not directly above, a light fixture lay dormant. If it got really dark by six, anybody who was looking for it in earnest would be able to see it. He knew he had to consider these factors since the design functioned as an essential signpost. No streaks or drips were marring the message and he knew that his fellow Black Hoods would be able to tell where they were supposed to meet.

Low grumbles of thunder were making their way over the rooftops. He hoped that Minn'dre would meet him as soon as she could so he might make it inside. He also just wanted to see her face again. He had hoped, she really liked what he did with her work, but he wondered if she would say anything at all. Sometimes, On'dinn felt that he was too much of a people-pleaser, and if he fancied that person, he was almost subservient to them. Perhaps such an attribute would make him a better politician someday.

He figured the tag should be dried to a full cure by the time any precipitation hit and because the alley was so narrow, those rains would not touch the walls until the force of the storm became torrential. Either way, he didn't want to become drenched.

As On'dinn attempted to make it out of the alleyway, he assumed he would soon get soaked while waiting for her in the park, anyway. Just before he could exit the shadows of the red clay walls, he found his path blocked by three large forms. With any luck, he hoped he wasn't spotted. The Black Hood would just leave him to his fate if that were the case, and he was fine with that. He knew the score. Getting caught was not on the agenda here, but upon adjusting his eyes from the gloom of the alley, he knew he was in a trouble of a different kind.

"Hey, freak! Talking to your fellow rats? Maybe trying to score a date?" The harsh male voice boomed down the walls of the alley.

Another voice joined the trio of anger and scorn. "On'dinn Jak'sin, I see you!"

This wasn't going to be good, On'dinn feared, as they were advancing further down the way and into the shadows where they would be free to do what they wanted to him unseen. He remembered learning from a police show that anyone who really wants to do you harm will try anything they can to get you relocated from a point of observation to a point of seclusion. The warden on the show said that if anyone orders you to come with them, running away would be your best option because a perpetrator would know that they can't act right where they are without getting caught. This was a different matter. These elves were forcing him into seclusion as they occupied the entire alleyway three abreast. They already had him where they wanted him and they somehow knew him.

He slapped open his manaphone with lightning reflex and noted the time. Minn'dre wouldn't arrive for another half hour at least and the rest of the group even later. This situation was looking bleak and he cursed the gods in silence to himself.

"Who's there? Get out of here!" On'dinn hoped that the command would display a sense of authority to his three would-be attackers and even stall them so he had more time to figure out how to escape this mess. No such luck was working for him as their steps continued on with purpose and confidence.

His eyes could read through their silhouettes against the sanguine afternoon. It was that foul bully Hyrax Arcovis and his two toadies from the runta team: Ferd'inn' Kokoff and Tall'iss Garb'ann.

Garb'ann wasn't really on the runta team anymore as his grades had slipped too far below the minimum allowance to continue playing. This was due, in part, to his time locked away in the juvenile dungeon for bashing out Jer'lynn Sev'rinn's coach's windows with his runta glove in their adept school's courtyard. She had used her good sense to refuse a date from the brute but, to her misfortune, he didn't take to the rejection very well. His normal position on the runta field was defensive line and he was gigantic. A gigantic loser, in On'dinn's opinion, but his lowly station in life no longer mattered after he thrust his foot in the young elf's tiny stomach.

As luck would have it for On'dinn, he was a light eater and the vanilla juice from the café was the only content in his stomach that afternoon. He managed to keep it from spewing all over Garb'ann's shoes but the wind was knocked out of him nevertheless. Oddly, On'dinn was amazed at how professionally deft the ogrish elf's kick was. He surmised that he just could not do such a thing to a person even if he wanted to no matter how hard he tried. It was like the natural order for the monster.

"Awww, is the little wiseguy gonna lose the lunch Mama packed for him?" Ferd'inn cackled as On'dinn crumpled to the ground; his lungs devoid of air.

Ferd'inn was a different story. The guy managed, in all actuality, to receive pretty good grades and lived beachside in one of the wealthier neighborhoods. He often drove the trio around as he was the only one of them with a coach and it was a nice coach; a convertible. On'dinn figured that Hyrax and Tall'iss used him for the ride and his house parties, but he was not a bad runta player either, so it was possible that they carried some respect for him. Ferd'inn was vanity personified and more than likely would not mete out any violence to the young elf. Such an act might blemish his manicured nails of the finest quality.

On'dinn was wrong on that account. Ferd'inn packed his insult in with a sharp slap across his face that stung like a hornet. "Whatever, scag," the haughty elf demeaned On'dinn as if he was already weary of him and began to turn away down the alley.

Last, but not least in line for On'dinn's beating, was the inimitable Hyrax Arcovis; the wunderkind of the Seabreeze Grand Sabercats runta team. He was the exalted captain of the outfit and the undefeated champion of the Corosa Province who held this record his whole career at the school. Neither was Hyrax a poor student. Sure, he wasn't much of a free-thinker like On'dinn, but he made the grade as would the school's administration have it. On'dinn was not too shabby with the maidens, but _all_ the females loved Hyrax. Rumor had it, even some of the professors. The main and most glaring problem with Hyrax, On'dinn decided, was that he had nothing that serviced as a soul, and if he did, it was pitch black. He really covered his transgressive nature well with his superior looks and physique. Always so polite, yet commanding, even with his superiors at the school. He more or less owned that school's gymnasium coach and seven universities worldwide already had their sights on him to play for their Master's league runta teams.

"On'dinn Jak'sin," he began with a matter-of-fact growl. "You are a no-deodorant Communal and stink of the streets. It's no surprise to find you lurking in this alley, which will undoubtedly be your home one day soon. "

"Anarchist, actually," On'dinn managed with sarcasm as his breath had returned to his lungs. He wasn't about to let this haughty swine get the best of him. Hyrax was the poster-child for all that he opposed. "But I suppose you aren't intelligent enough to know what that means."

Sometimes, On'dinn's talent for candor was overreaching, and this was one of those moments. Hyrax was going to kill him as the strapping elf had murder in his blackened eyes.

"On'dinn _Jackass_ , you're dead..." With that, the runta champ shoved his claw around the small elf's neck with a movement so quick On'dinn couldn't escape it, even if he was rather agile. The brute supported his light frame with another talon to his crotch and lifted him off the ground.

"Time to take out the trash," Arcovis said without needing to grunt. He was that strong. On'dinn's slender body was shoved into one of the garbage bins lining the far side of the alley from the green door. His knees were at his eye's level as he was almost folded in double to accommodate the small space of the bin. Before On'dinn knew it, his adept school's runta hero washed his face with a stony fist at full force. The pain was blinding, but he was still conscious.

"Garbage Day!" the wicked hero boomed, then let out an evil snicker.

All of his bullies were laughing at Hyrax's display of power as he crouched down and picked up a carton of half-consumed hippopotamus milk (Imported fresh from Gonduanna!). On'dinn could feel trails of blood track out of his nose and he wondered if it was broken.

"Look everyone!" Hyrax shouted in mock triumph. "Food for the masses! Freedom for the troglodytes! Love for the losers!"

Hyrax's derisive imitation of a Communal's speech was followed by a large boom of thunder. This coincidental event sent the alley into bales of guffaws and made On'dinn feel like a worthless worm. Even Hyrax was impressed at the timing of Lady Nature. The gods themselves were appearing to favor him that afternoon.

After his impressive display of rancor, Hyrax poured the curdled contents of the carton onto On'dinn's bleeding head with a slow sluggishness that was interminable. Globs of rotten hippo milk drooled down the lad's dishwater-blond braids and locks. The slight elf knew he needed to stand his emotional ground. Everything was going so proper and perfect for these beasts and he could not let them see him cry even though he wanted to in the worst way. Remembering an ancient Tel'lemurian meditation technique, he chanted to himself in silence so that he could be taken away from that moment and into another realm. " _Om...Om..."_

On'dinn's self-imposed trance was working rather well as he felt the wave of humiliation and despair lift from his spirit. He made a mental note to practice this technique more often. When Hyrax packed in his torture session by spitting in the young elf's face, the fear, anger, shame and pain from his wounded nose returned in that instant right along with the disgusting smell of the spoiled milk.

"Well, wasn't that fun?" Hyrax asked of his ghoulish audience for approval. On'dinn thought, rather hoped, this would signal the end of Hyrax's demonstrations of machismo to his stupid friends. Although he had so many intellectual comebacks burning on the tip of his tongue for his attackers, he thought better to hold them back since it was most clear that he had the lower hand in the matter. Besides, they were much too ignorant, and in Garb'ann's case, infantile, to understand such comebacks for them to have any effect.

As he remained doubled-over in the municipal garbage bin, On'dinn looked over to the alleyway's entrance only to see a fourth member. She was a petite maiden, not even six feet tall, and she was nibbling on the end of a slim ladies' jade pipe. On'dinn could smell no smoke from it; the pipe was just a pretentious tool. He squinted his eyes though the mess on his face of blood, spit and curd only to make out that the female was that new Xochian student from school. Venn'lith Mitlan. That was her name, he recalled. The elfmaid was a total enigma to him as she never spoke unless someone was paying undivided attention to her. As she was never dressed in anything less than haute couture, On'dinn pegged her for an elitist and cared less if he ever acknowledged her likewise. The most unsettling thing about her, he noted, was her demeanor. She walked around with a preening entourage at all times and never took that haughty, yet aloof look off her face. It was no surprise to the young elf that she would collude with the likes of Hyrax and Ferd'inn.

"Let's go! I'm getting bored," she ordered the males with a pouting whine as she lounged against the corner of the alleyway's entrance. "It's going to rain and I have to drive you idiots home in it. You should be grateful."

Yes! Leaving now would be a wonderful idea, On'dinn thought. You morons should listen to your handler. He wanted nothing more than for this to be over with and he especially wanted them out of there before Minn'dre arrived.

"We'll see you soon, scum," Hyrax hissed to On'dinn on Venn'lith's cue. With that, the young elf was soon alone in the alley. It took him some time for him to realize that it was safe to hoist his body out of the putrid garbage bin.

The light from the sky had turned to a blue charcoal. It would not be long before sheets of rain would dump on his head and On'dinn wished for that because the stink of the garbage and rancid hippo milk was turning his stomach. After thinking about the swirling odors on and around him for a mere second, he flashed vanilla juice all over the concrete. Sobs soon followed and they felt so good as the rain began to fall on his head.

He grabbed his shoulder bag, which he was thankful for it being left unmolested by Hyrax and his goons, and headed out of the alley. There was no mirror or reflective surface to be found, but he knew that he must have looked like he escaped from an asylum.

Slapping the manaphone, On'dinn saw that it was almost time for the rendezvous with Minn'dre. Thunder boomed from the ocean and the lighting was gaining frequency. The rain was hard enough to sluice the foul mixture of trash and scum off his head, but the stains on his white shirt were going to be permanent. He would have to explain all of this to Minn'dre and he really didn't feel like returning to that terrible event in his head anytime soon.

The poplars in the park were soaking in the rain with all the joys of nature from the west and On'dinn was getting a hard case of the chills as the torrent was still cold from the recent winter months. He wished in shivering desperation that he had worn a jacket. At least he would be able to change out of his ruined shirt and into a Black Hood robe once Travius arrived.

Thinking about the meeting tonight gave his mood an immediate boost and pushed the grim memories of Hyrax and company out of his mind. These were good people organized for a righteous reason and he was a part of it. Despite his beating, his mission was accomplished. The tag was thrown up and the new headquarters would be activated that night. Whatever Travius had to say to the Black Hood Group occupied his thoughts. Minn'dre said it would be big. He wondered for a moment if it had something to do with the pyramids.

"Hey! Basil!" It was Minn'dre calling from the gate of the park. She donned a tawdry, red overcloak and carried a big and beautiful black umbrella and he wanted nothing more than to be under it. "Come on over here! You'll get pneumonia!"

Running with the speed of a wet sabercat, he slid into Minn'dre's personal bubble and under the dry perimeter of the umbrella. He forgot in his rush for warmth how terrible he must have smelled.

"Ewww **...** you stink! What were you getting into?" Minn'dre covered her face against her young friend's stench. She was disgusted to her core with the foul mixture of odors.

"Oh, yeah, about that," On'dinn began.

"Gods! What happened to your face! Your nose is crusted with blood!" A genuine look of worry swept across her face.

"That obvious, huh?" the young elf asked her with a half-lit smirk as he lightly touched his nose. The pain was immense and caused him to wince.

"Were you caught by the wardens?" Minn'dre was becoming more nervous than concerned about him, as he could tell by the tone in her voice. The last thing he wanted was to mess this mission up.

"No. Nothing like that. Let's just say I got beat up by elitists." He wanted nothing more than to forget about the afternoon's encounter. There would be time to mull over that later, he supposed. Besides, admitting to Minn'dre that he was caught up in petty adept school politics was embarrassing considering she was a university student.

"Oh. Are you going to be okay, then?" Her concern for him was returning. Regardless, he was a bit disheartened that the integrity of the mission trumped her worry for him. It was all for the reason much bigger than him, he acknowledged and he figured he would have seen it the same way had the tables been turned. Realizing this, he made another mental note to stop being so selfish.

"Yeah, but I really could use a hot bath." He couldn't tell what was more dizzying, the sharp pain in his nose or the rotten stench.

"Yes, I'll agree with you on that. Anyway, since I like you enough, I'll put up with the stink until Travius arrives." He was feeling much better after hearing this from the object of his affections. Knowing Travius, the guru most likely wouldn't care about his putrid aroma anyway.

"Did you get the tag up?" she asked him.

"Yeah, it looks good, and it dried fully before the rains began. So at least something is working out today. Everything's five-by-five." He gave her a weak thumbs-up.

"Excellent. We really need everyone to make the meeting tonight. I've spoken with Travius and I'll give you a wee hint about tonight's plans." She lowered her voice a bit and moved in closer to him despite his rank smell. This was getting interesting, he smiled inside.

"Oh really? What is it?" On'dinn, under normal circumstances, could contain his enthusiasm as he considered himself a patient person, but this suspense was like a Summersfest carnival when he was younger.

"Don't let him know I told you this when he arrives, but all I am going to say is that tomorrow night, the king is giving a royal address at the arena. He said we are all to attend this with him. He'll detail it more at the meeting."

It had to be about the pyramids for sure, On'dinn guessed. Why else would the king address the nation? It was the only thing on anyone's mind. He looked down the park's path and peered out the gate, expecting it to be filled with the form of the wise old elf. The rain was driving harder and it would only be a matter of time before his arrival. Getting a good whiff of his stink, On'dinn hoped the new headquarters had some sort of bathing facility.
The Lonely Ray of Light on a Cloudy Night

**A** round the time On'dinn Jak'sin was getting the tar beaten out of him by one Hyrax Arcovis, a more festive afternoon was being had by Quen'die and Lauryl'la over a heated game of ringball. It was a one-on-one match and the elfmaids were going into overtime.

A cloudbank fattened with an angry rose lining was coming in from the Corosan bay, cutting the day's clear skies with its impending inclement weather. The two young maidens below its pregnant mass could feel the approaching storm as the air was becoming heavier with moisture and static. Gulls of all breeds were moving inland, screeching for safety. This was going to be a big one.

Lauryl'la had just made a three-point score over her opponent. The ball went through the ring with perfect precision; not even touching the old brazen hoop. She felt a great sense of pride by besting her notably-athletic friend in this instance. Quen'die was tough to beat even on the ringball circle.

"Ha!" she spat with vicious triumph. "Try to come back from that one!"

Quen'die knew she wasn't playing her best. Last night's fall on a hard marble surface had stiffened her back and her usual superior flexibility. Since the arrival of the clouds, she could feel her joints protest with a dull throb. Such pain made it difficult to sink a ring with optimal accuracy.

"You do realize, friend, that I'm off my game because I was eaten by an earthquake last night," she challenged Lauryl'la back. "I'll have no problem catching up to the likes of you!"

"Let's just see about that!" her friend met that offer.

Quen'die's ringball court lay off to the side of her family's courtyard and overlooked the bay. Her modest circular home was built on an upper ring of the bluffs that surrounded the large body of water which was always bustling with commercial- and consumer-grade sea traffic. She sometimes dreamed of what it would be like to live in one the beachside mansions below, but that was just an impractical fancy of hers when she was feeling a bout of romantic and imaginative impulse. She noted that the older she got, the less often she entertained those daydreams. Who really bathes in a giant pearl bathtub every day, anyway, she contemplated?

With a red wave of energy, Quen'die carried the ball around the court and back again enjoying the energetic boost Lauryl'la's challenge provided. Her opponent couldn't catch her while she was playing at full force. She was always a hand's length away from the elfmaid's swaying thick rope of red hair which twisted down her back like the tail of some mythical sanguine beast. Quen'die tapped every ounce of her reserves and matched her opponent's three-point heroics.

"We are now tied, maiden," Quen'die noted the updated score with taunting fervor. "And _I_ will be victorious!" Just to prove her declaration of heroics, a large boom of thunder split the sky on cue.

The pair laughed so hard at the synchronous event. It was as if Korel'lyn, the skygod himself joined their audience. A bolt of pain shot up from Quen'die's back from her snickering but she continued to cackle as the hilarity was much more powerful than the ache.

" _Quen'dieee! The Red Barbarian_!" Lauryl'la sang to her mate with a humorous, epic bravado which made the two chortle only more.

"That was so capital!" the elfmaid continued through peals of laughter. "What are the chances of that happening?"

"Yeah, I know, right? It's like I have my own adventure show," she agreed to Lauryl'la's notice. "It sounds like the kind that my dumb brother and his friends would watch. I'd be a world-famous sensation with all the idiots!"

"Yeah! And you could even sign all their autographs!" Lauryl'la added. "'Dear Stupid, best wishes and lots of kisses-Love, Quen'die the Red Barbarian.'"

As the two continued to crack-up over their imaginary manascreen drama, another burst of thunder rolled in the distance from the Western Atlantean Ocean. This burst was much bigger and louder and it halted the maidens' merriment.

"Wow, this one's going to be a whopper, huh?" Lauryl'la estimated while assessing the surly clouds overhead.

"Hmm, maybe we ought to get inside," Quen'die suggested. "Besides, we've been playing this all day and this storm is really starting to hurt my back." She looked down at her damp t-shirt which advertised her school's runta championship in a classic athletic script:

" _Seabreeze Grand Adept School Runta Champions '88-The Fighting Sabercats"_

Her last name was emblazoned on the back over a large number 23.

"Old lady," her friend joked in a voice that imitated an elderly elf.

"Whatever," Quen'die shot back as the sky darkened above them. "Let's at least get under the porch and we can watch the storm from there. We'll pick this game up later and then I can finally beat you."

"So, you wish," Lauryl'la agreed with a mocking undertone.

As Lauryl'la rocked on the back porch's swing and watched the looming storm arrive with an increasing velocity, Quen'die went into her kitchen to get two bottled mango elixirs. The late spring day was warmer than usual for that time of year and the pair had been playing for hours since school was cancelled.

"Do you know if we're under a hurricane watch or something?" Quen'die asked her friend as she handed her the cool yellow bottle. "This one looks pretty evil," she continued with a strong trace of nervousness.

Corosa Bay was battered by rather frightening storms on occasion that would arrive from the Western Atlantean Ocean, but the city was situated too far from the tropics to be beleaguered by fully-developed hurricanes. Such storms were rarities at best. Quen'die's family had lived in this home her entire fifteen years and they had only needed to evacuate twice in that time.

"I don't remember hearing about anything like that," Lauryl'la answered as she twisted off the bottle's cork top. "The screen plays nothing but that stupid pyramid stuff anyway. It's getting so boring. Last night it was pretty capital, but now there is like _nothing_ else on except Quay'liss Dalian and her pet pyramids. Lame..."

"Yeah, I know," Quen'die agreed. "Did you know that some weird lights are blinking on them now? I wonder what that could mean."

"It means the newscasts want better ratings, so they made the pyramids blink," the auburn-haired elfmaid answered with a cynical grunt.

"Hmmm...you're probably right. I bet those lights are fake," Quen'die responded with a chuckle. "I haven't seen one in person yet, but wouldn't it be weird if it were all just a media hoax or a conspiracy? Gods, I sound like Kaedish now. My father won't let me get near enough to one until he's sure it's safe, so... I don't know. He was at work all day because everybody at his Circle is freaking out about these things and Mother has been on the phone with all these insurance wardens. She lost a lot of valuables in the quake last night, so she called the day off from the lab."

"No way! Those suckers are the real deal. First off, they're all over the world, and do you think Avalon or Mu has the brens to pull off that kind of a hoax? They even have a couple jutting out of the Vrillian Wastes! There's not a chance that a bunch of mammoth herders could manage a hoax like that," Lauryl'la reasoned. "Not only that, they're made with a weird metal and if you look closely at the screen, you'll see that the colors on the surface keep swirling. It's weird. Anyway, my folks were both at work all day, so I really don't know anything for certain either."

Lauryl'la looked skyward as another burst of thunder cracked. Salty ocean rain began to pour down from the early evening's seastorm and the very air around the elfmaids switched from an ominous pink to a heavy dark grey with an immediacy that made them both feel a bit sleepy. The two felt like they were in a theater watching the scene of a dreamy blue thunderstorm as they rocked on the Reyliss's porch-swing.

Lauryl'la's parents were both civil wardens and were out patrolling on the same shifts most of the time, leaving the maiden to fend for herself many afternoons after school. Now that there was a big national incident, she expected her folks would be all but invisible from doing overtime shifts and detail work to help contain the chaos. Because of this, the young grey elf was much more streetwise than her friend, but had still managed to keep out of trouble despite being left unattended for long periods. Quen'die admired how she supervised herself, yet remained responsible in her relative freedom. It also made her a bit jealous of Lauryl'la. She could come and go as she pleased for the most part, but still received somewhat decent grades and had succeeded in staying out of the municipal dungeon, regardless.

"Speaking of no parental supervision, we need to discuss the party this weekend," Lauryl'la reminded her friend.

"Oh, believe me," Quen'die began with a foreboding note. "I haven't forgotten."

"Someone sounds a bit nervous!" Lauryl'la jibed. Her street wisdom allowed her to detect such small nuances in other's voices. "Seriously, maiden, you have nothing to be worried about. Besides, I'm going to be there on your left wing. Maybe the right one as well."

"I know. I just have so much to plan for it. Isn't it at Sig'ryn's house?" she asked.

"Yeah!" Lauryl'la exclaimed with wide eyes. "His parent's house is so capital! It's so gigantic too! They finally got their pool ready so you should bring your swim gear. Plus, did you know that they have a genuine Thuless'in sauna installed?"

"That's cool," Quen'die agreed with only half of her heart. "Maybe I can just show up in a shopping bag."

"Uh-oh," her friend detected even more worries from her. "You're trying to tell me you have nothing good to wear for this, right? Worried you won't look cute enough for a certain tall, dark and handsome elf, hmm?"

It was true. Quen'die was not much of a fashionista. Although she attained the respect of her peers mainly through sports and scholastics, she had never been much interested in the fashion channels on the manascreen. Gowns and accessories and the like just didn't concern her to the degree of some of the other maidens her age. She had always been a bit of a tom-elf. She surmised that she would feel more at home attending a Corosa Coronets' game than a Xochian fashion exhibit. When it came to the daydreams of her future, she had always imagined how wonderful it would be to play Masters' runta at the university than it would be to walk through the marriage circle in a billowing wedding gown. She was becoming all the more interested in males, it was no secret, but they always seemed to be out of her reach somehow. None of them seemed quite worth sacrificing the schedule she had created for herself. She also considered herself a bit of a late-bloomer.

"No worries," Lauryl'la reassured her as she took a swig of the refreshing citrus drink. "You're almost as tall as I am and you very well know that I'm the tallest maiden in our grade. It'll be easy. I have some sweet gowns that you can borrow. Look on the bright side; you're tall and skinny. You can wear pretty much anything you want and get away with it."

Lauryl'la was indeed the tallest maiden in their class. She was just about 6'7" and quite thin. Not as willowy and wiry as Quen'die, but the two could trade garments with ease. Lauryl'la was discovering the world of males, it was definite, but that didn't cause as much of a bother to her as it did for her favorite companion. Even though Quen'die was, by nature, more striking than her, Lauryl'la's attitude and style was much more conducive to being noticed by the opposite sex. She just had more interest in attracting male attention than did her crimson-maned friend.

"Very well," Quen'die relented while taking a drink herself. "I just don't really think anything in my closet is appropriate for parties and clubs or whatnot. Thanks for helping me out here."

"Not a problem, my fine friend, not a problem, "she assured her comrade before letting out a monstrous belch.

" _All right_!" Quen'die taunted Lauryl'la. "That's sure to be a winner with the guys this weekend."

"Actually, it won't, because you aren't saying a word about that!" Lauryl'la began laughing. Quen'die too joined the session of giggles. The maiden could always make her laugh, even if it was by some disgusting stunt.

Lightning marred the sky with a blinding flash that was soon accompanied by another roll of thunder. The bolt made Quen'die jump a little and the evening was turning darker with the upcoming night. Pink cherry trees arranged on her property with perfect care were emitting their sweet scent and their pungency was competing with the taste of the mango. She was glad to be under the large eaves of the porch because she didn't want to get soaked. Either that or get struck with a surge of lightning.

"On the topic of guys," Lauryl'la began after the thunder halted their laughter. "I was just wondering what you are going to do when you see one particular Hyrax Arcovis. I suppose I'm going to have to help you with that one as well, yes?"

"Honestly, yes. You probably will," she answered her friend with some gravity. "I seriously cannot talk to him with any amount of intelligence. The only time I can seem to interact with him on a level I feel comfortable with is when he's shouting commands on the runta field. Then I'm just taking orders. I mean, I know he respects my playing and I'm an amazing forward, but above and beyond that, I really don't know what to do."

"Yeah, I see what you mean," Lauryl'la began. "You know the game, but you have no _game_."

"Exactly!" Quen'die jumped to her friend's revelation with some gratitude. "I have no flair. Nothing to say! It's like, how can I find a common ground with this guy if all I consume myself with are manascrolls and runtapucks."

"Don't be so hard on yourself!" her friend advised. "Look, it could be way worse. What if you were like your brother and the only thing you could talk about was how to slay an orc in less than three seconds?"

"Yeah!" Quen'die laughed. "Then I'd be up the creek for sure! He'd probably call the health warden on me and that would be entirely another can of worms. Sometimes I wonder how Kaedish will get by in a few years if he doesn't mature out of his military/bloodthirsty phase."

"Kaedish? Going on a date? With a real female?" her friend huffed with a blunt cluck. "No, that will never happen."

Quen'die didn't want to continue with a smear session of her brother. Lauryl'la could really aggravate the young elf whenever she was around him, and sometimes, Quen'die wondered if whether or not her friend really did carry a bit of an unsaid crush for him as well. That would be an odd and rather disturbing notion, but stranger things have happened.

"Well, anyway," the elfmaid changed the subject before her friend could take more jabs at Kaedish while he wasn't about. "Have you noticed that Hyrax has been talking to that new maiden from Xo'chi quite a bit? I wonder what the story is with that."

"She kind of gives me the creeps," Lauryl'la confided. "I mean, she just stares daggers at people all the time and she never puts her eyebrows down. Is she royal or something?"

"No," Quen'die answered. "Her father is some kind of business tycoon or something. He works with the Circle of Finance. They're totally wealthy. She's only been here since the second half of the school year."

"So, how do you know so much about her, anyway," Lauryl'la asked, looking over with a hint of suspicion. "You two certainly don't seem to be too chummy."

"Oh no, we're not. Believe me. My parents have to meet with him now and again because he's one of their research investors. I don't really know that much about either of them, but I get the creeps from her too. She never takes her eyes off of me in the halls. She must have seen me talking to Hyrax at some point and now she feels threatened. I don't know for sure," Quen'die explained. "To make matters worse, Father said we have to visit them for some kind of business dinner on Feastday. It's at their house, so I'm going to be a captive audience to her evil glare."

"That's awful!" Lauryl'la gasped. "You mean you'll be in the belly of the beast all Feastday evening with that witch? I don't envy you, maiden."

"Care to trade places?" Quen'die begged her friend with a bit of mirth, although not much more than a bit.

"Oh no, my dear," she brushed back a bolt of her thick, chestnut hair. "There are some battles that must be fought alone and this is one of those very battles."

"Yeah, I can't blame you for wanting to steer clear of that one. Hopefully, Father will eat quickly and round us up and then we can make a fast exit," the elfmaid reasoned. "However, if everyone gets to drinking too much wine, then they'll all buddy-up and play darts or something stupid all night and I'll be at her mercy in her very own house. There is a great strength people get while on their home turf and she looks pretty strong to begin with, you know."

"You can say that again!" Lauryl'la formed a bulging muscle as if she were a body builder. "That maiden looks like she could crush a pumpkin with her biceps!"

"I know, right?" Quen'die agreed as she finished her elixir. "I've heard all over school that she was this incredible runta champ back home. I suppose I'll have to deal with her on the field next year as well. Maybe she'll knock me out of my standing."

"I'd like to see that!" her friend proclaimed while rocking the swing harder. "Nobody is going to dethrone the Red Tempest!"

"Or the Red Barbarian!" Quen'die added, triggering the two into another momentary fit of laughter.

"Look, if all else fails, there's a bright side to this soiree," Lauryl'la began to console her friend. "Sig'rynn somehow managed, and I don't know _how_ , to get The Gonduanna Princes to play the party!" She finished with a giggling howl. Quen'die was infected with the excitement and both the maidens almost knocked the porch-swing off the chain in cheer.

" _Gods!_ I love those guys!" Quen'die managed through the laughter with a happy growl. "You better not be fibbing!"

"Cross my heart, totally," her friend assured as she did just that with two fingers.

Overhead, the storm appeared to be lightening up a bit. The rain was not pounding with as much vigor on the eaves of the porch and the thunder was becoming less frequent and increasingly distant. Perhaps this was just an isolated boomer, they figured. Already, portions of the cloud cover were breaking up, exposing stars through the holes in the squall's bruise-colored blanket.

Lauryl'la stopped laughing after a time and hung her head low so that she could peer out from under the oaken overhang of Quen'die's porch. By judging from her concerted frown, she seemed very preoccupied with something in the sky.

"What's the matter?" Quen'die inquired of her friend as she too searched the skies for the object of her attention.

"Well, I thought I saw something weird up in that hole in the clouds. Take a look with me," she suggested as she pointed to the pocket of clear night in question.

Above the bay, more and more holes were cracking through the cloudbank and Quen'die strained her eyes to see what Lauryl'la was going on about. After a bit of scanning, she saw a bright shimmer compete with the gleam of the surrounding stars. It continued to get bigger and more intense until she could see that it was much closer to the earth than its heavenly neighbors. Soon, the light sprouted a tail like a comet and plummeted faster toward the ground. When the streak was about as far away as a typical commercial limmer, the elfmaids could see that it wasn't a very large object. The tail of the odd glow seemed to disappear for a moment and then relight. It vanished without a sound behind a bluff on the other side of the inlet.

The maidens were astonished, to say the least. It took a while for the pair to tear their eyes away from the bluff behind which it disappeared. At the very same instant, they looked at each other in a state of wonder, while above, the sky was shooing away the clouds and ushering in the starshine of a beautiful and clear night.

"What the...," the maidens said in unison, their eyes once again glued to the stars.

"Oh my gods!" Lauryl'la exclaimed. "We _have_ to go and check that out!"

"Are you insane? That thing could have landed a hundred miles away!" Quen'die attempted reason.

"No, that was _way_ too close. I'm sure of it," her friend argued. "It landed just beyond that bluff over there," she continued as she pointed to the rocks in question. "I can just tell it's close by."

"Okay, I guess," Quen'die agreed with a bit of reluctance. "We had better drive though."

Lauryl'la's coach was, without a doubt, on the beaten side. It was a much older model than the ones seen on the roads as per usual, but the elfmaid loved it. Her parents had bought it for her for her sixteenth birthday and they had reasoned that it would enable Lauryl'la to get on with a wider array of chores while they were out on patrol in the afternoons. She didn't care because the coach only provided her more freedoms and she enjoyed the added responsibility of driving. It made her feel more like an adult than ever.

The maidens splashed through the courtyard's puddles left over from the storm and made their way to the waiting vehicle. Its maroon enamel was blotchy and it revealed gaping holes of chipped petrified oak through the color. Its brass trimming and bumpers were beginning to develop a green patina which really helped others identify its homely age of almost thirty.

" _Capso abrenn, Lauryl'la,"_ the elfmaid ordered and the coach sputtered to life. Not only was its hull well beyond its years, but the manaflow from its ball was not very steady anymore. The power's pulse was intermittent and irregular unlike a later model's firm and balanced throb. This haphazard flow would cause the front end of the coach to dip from time to time.

They drove along the bluffside roads in the direction where the light had disappeared. The unbalanced hum of the coach was making Quen'die a touch nervous, but Lauryl'la was a pretty good driver and she trusted her. Her edgy thoughts of wrecking turned to her desire for a coach of her own and she wondered if she would ever be fortunate enough to drive one as well. It would be nice to have those freedoms her best friend enjoyed now that she too was getting older and had more responsibilities.

"Hey, Rylla," she quipped.

"Hey what," Quen'die's friend answered while eyeing the road and the bluffs with intent.

"What's driving like?" the elfmaid asked feeling a bit juvenile and self-conscious.

"What? Uh, well, it's kind of weird at first," Lauryl'la began not detecting her friend's apprehension. "When you first get the coach, you need to signify yourself to it. That way, you and only you can activate and drive it. Well, you and your folks."

"How do I signify my coach?" Quen'die inquired, intrigued and not taking her eyes off the little crystal ball in Lauryl'la's hand.

"That's kind of weird too. When I signified, my father made me read from this scroll the saleswarden uploaded to my tablet while I was touching the trackball," she explained. "The words in the upload were seriously strange. A lot of them made no sense. Some of the words were ones I had never even heard of before. They must be some obscure words from manaspeech, perhaps. One of them was 'gorl' or 'girl' or something like that. I can't rightly remember."

"Yeah, I've never heard of a 'girl' either," Quen'die confided.

"Anyway," she continued as she turned a wide corner. "When you first get into the driver's seat of a real running coach, it _is_ pretty scary. I won't lie about that. You can feel all the power of the manaball course through your legs and feet and it almost feels like it's going up your spine or something."

"Weird **...** " Quen'die interjected as she continued to study her friend operate the coach's trackball.

"Yeah, but you get used to it after a real short time," her friend assured with an adult pride. "For instance, it felt like second nature to me within an hour or so. When you touch the tracking ball, you can really feel the mana make a link with your nerves and it automatically responds to your thoughts and wishes. Kind of like a trance, except you are awake and alert, just like always. I mean, we're conversing, after all, right?"

"Right...," Quen'die intoned her incomplete understanding. She would just have to experience this on her own to fully comprehend the feeling her friend described. Lauryl'la's explanation only made her want to drive a coach even more.

"So, anyway; I've been meaning to ask you if you were going to play ringball at school next year," Lauryl'la asked Quen'die.

"Uh, no. I'm not," she answered with a dreamy moan as she peered off into the black waters of the bay, entertaining her fugue of driving one day while taking in the beautiful scenery. "I'm all runta this year. I need to get stronger if I want to compete at varsity level, so I'm going to do weight training instead. I'll definitely need it if I have to compete with that Xochian maiden. I mean, both my arms put together don't match the girth of her's!"

"She's a freak, all right," her friend affirmed as she steered the coach. "It's sort of disappointing you won't be on the team with me, but I know you're the big runta champ and all."

Lauryl'la's interest in sports had been waning ever since last season. Her responsibilities around the house while her parents were working occupied much of her extracurricular time and she was becoming all the more curious about males and clothes and the like. Quen'die sometimes feared that the two would grow apart as friends. Such a possibility would be a terrible shame because they had been the best of comrades since their first year of novice school. Nevertheless, Quen'die's desire to tear up the runta field was getting hotter, if anything and no male would quell that fire; not even Hyrax Arcovis.

"It should be this turnoff," Quen'die navigated to her pilot as she pointed at a rocky path off the main road to their left.

"Gotcha," Lauryl'la confirmed as she steered the coach with a sharp lurch to make the tight turn. The invisible pad of energy kicked sludge and pebbles onto the main road.

The maidens drove their way with more caution up the winding bluff trail. It had never really been developed by the municipality and the vehicle continued to expel stones and wet clay in its wake. Lauryl'la's old coach was not handling the broken surface very well and the unsure flow of its mana was even more apparent as the ride became much bumpier. Quen'die thought she was going to be ill.

"Ouch!" she cried as the pain from last night's fall flared up again in the jostle. She was clutching the seatbelt strap to help mitigate the ache.

"Sorry about that," Lauryl'la intoned, seeing her friend wince. "We're almost there, I think."

"Good," Quen'die blurted while gnashing her teeth. "I'm going to lose that elixir pretty soon!"

"Not in this coach, you aren't!" her friend warned with a hint of humor. She knew Quen'die was just being dramatic. "We'll park it here and then we can get to the top of the bluff on foot."

She halted the vehicle at the end of the broken trail after a few moments of ragged driving. A cloud of rock and mud splashed around its hull as it set to the ground and Lauryl'la figured she would have to hose its body down before her folks saw the mess. She knew her father would be livid if he saw it in such a dirty state, despite it being a mere beater. The last thing she wanted was to be grounded on an unexpected week off from school which would end in one of the greatest parties of the year. Not gonna happen.

"Okay, maiden, let's get to hiking," Lauryl'la suggested as they left the cab.

The sky was almost clear at that point, but the ground was sucking with mud and clay. The two were more or less ankle-deep in the muck and it was seeping into their sandals. Nevertheless, the curiosity of the strange comet, or whatever it was, proved to be too great to let muddy feet deter their search.

At the top of the bluff, lush foliage covered the ground as giant evergreens sprouted from out of the growth. The storm had made the floor of this small forest almost impossible for the two to navigate with mud that reached even deeper than the trail on the bluff. Both of the elfmaids just wanted nothing but to take a hot waterfall. Usually after such precipitation ended, these forests were brimming with the calls of nature, but the trees were silent and the duo thought that it was odd.

"I don't get it," Quen'die wondered while scanning the trees. "Shouldn't blackbirds and bats and bugs and stuff be singing?"

"Yeah!" Lauryl'la noticed it too. "Did everyone leave town or something?" she joked to settle her nerves.

"I don't like this," the elfmaid began with a paranoid whisper. "What if that thing from the sky fell right here and killed everything! I mean, there is not a sound! Not even bugs!"

"No fireflies either," Lauryl'la added to Quen'die's assessment in a voice that she hushed as well. "Normally, the little buggers light-up the forest this time of year." The maidens looked around hoping to see even one glint of their familiar yellowish glow, but the only light around them came from the stars above and the city below.

As the maidens trudged deeper into the forest, the pair was halted by a rustling noise. It was the first noise they could discern since reaching the summit of the bluff. Both got low onto their haunches at the sound's commencement and held their breaths in hopes of maintaining invisibility. Odd wonder turned to mortal fear in an instant as the two surmised this sound was the source of their journey. They both regretted their curiosity after hearing it and cared only to make it off the bluff alive. So many thoughts wandered through their heads about what they were about to face and how to get away if this was not a friendly encounter. If they attempted to bolt out of the brush, the mud would render them much too slow to run at an effective speed. The wet scrub and forest floor would announce their presence to this thing, whatever this was.

Quen'die pointed to a bulky shadow that was silhouetted against a clearing in the greenery. Her mouth hung open like a cow's and her eyes grew even wider with terror. Lauryl'la's gaze followed the length of her slender arm and met the source of her friend's attention. The black shadow cast by this thing revealed that it was perched at the edge of the bluff's summit. It was shimmying from side to side with a gentle sway and appeared to be about seven or eight feet tall. Both the maidens felt like fainting, but their adrenaline kept such a shutdown from happening.

They were detected. The lifeform from wherever it fell ceased its rhythmic swing with abruptness and turned its attention to the two young elves. Although the maidens could not discern in its shadow what the exact nature of this thing was that would soon kill them, as they were certain; its movement denatured its form. Whatever it was, it had wings. Big wings. Those appendages spread almost from tree to tree in the clearing. Lauryl'la estimated at least a fifteen foot wingspan through the swimming horror in her head.

With a slight hop, the stygian beast fell off the edge of the bluff and into the bowels of the night. Although the elfmaids' wide eyes were fixed on its spot of departure, neither of them could track where it went. It seemed like they were locked into that sight for hours.

Without warning, frogs, crickets, bats, and birds and the very forest itself tore through the heavy silence all at once with a chorus of relief. The maidens looked at each other and screamed. Lauryl'la began to bawl with gratefulness that she was still alive and Quen'die soon joined her. They hugged in celebration as they knew they might get to live through this night and sleep in their respective beds.

By some instinct that was against their common sense, the two rushed the short way to the edge of the bluff from where the winged mystery had alighted. Neither had found a trace of the beast, not even a pair of footprints. That is, considering the thing even _had_ feet.

"Oh... my... gods! What in the hells _was_ that thing!" Quen'die cried with a disbelief that she could not abate.

Lauryl'la was still searching the city underneath the steep drop of the bluff for any signs of the strange encounter. Not even a shadow or silhouette could be found.

"Erm...I don't know," her friend tried to answer the unanswerable. "My best guess is a raptor that was gonna kill us?" her voice broke into a quizzical tone.

"No, raptors can't fly and they don't live in Atlantis except in zoos." Quen'die lectured as tears began to stream down her face. "Oh, and they don't fall from outer space encased in a comet either," she added with a bit of sarcasm.

"No, that they don't," Lauryl'la agreed, diverting her attention at last from the city down below.

A new noise joined the symphony of this strange night. It was the very familiar wails of civil warden flitcycles. Their sirens were blaring and both the maidens knew that meant the limmerjocks were in a hot pursuit. Over their heads, three of the cycles rushed through the sky as their blue and red gumballs flashed with angry authority. The trio of peacekeepers was thundering away in the direction of the enigmatic winged curiosity's departure.

"Looks like we aren't the only ones to discover this thing," Lauryl'la said as she began to calm back into reality. "Uh-oh... I wonder if my father is on one of those cycles."

The maidens watched from the edge of the bluff as the sirens of the three wardens blended into the distant light pollution of Corosa City below them. Quen'die marveled at how fast the cycles could go and for a minute imagined herself as a warden, precariously swerving and weaving in midair while she was hot on the trail of some fleeing crook.

"Come on," Quen'die prodded her friend. "Let's get out of here before a real animal eats us. I don't want our luck to run out."

"Okay, that's a good idea," Lauryl'la agreed while she poured mud out of her sandals. Just as she was finished, she looked back at the mighty expanse of cityscape.

"Oh no, I think one of the wardens spotted us," she moaned.

Quen'die noticed red and blue lights forming closer out of the warm glow of Corosa's after-dark skyline. She rolled her eyes. She was too exhausted to continue that night with any more dramatic events.

The flitcycle arrived in a few short moments and hovered not far above the heads of the maidens. Although the wails of its sirens were off, the alternating blasts of its red and blue lights assaulted their eyes. The bright light of its manaball which was installed below the warden's saddle added to the offensive glare. A cured-bone scimitar hung over his thigh. Waving in the night air with stentorian pride from a pole at the back of the warden's seat fluttered his callsign banner which read " _5015_." Quen'die wondered how much trouble she was going to be in.

"Halt! Municipal defense," the warden announced with an authority that was impartial yet stern. After identifying himself, he slapped the lozenge-shaped visor away from his face revealing a slender and very perturbed elf. Ash-blond braids bracketed his angular jawline.

"Lauryl'la!" the warden pointed down to her with an armored finger. "I don't know what on Earth you're doing up on this bluff, but you get home _now_ or I'll ground you and slap an ankle bracelet to _both_ your legs just to make sure you don't leave the house until you're an adult!" He turned his attentions mechanically to Quen'die. "Quen'die, you get home too! There's some weird stuff going on out here and I don't want either of you getting killed."

Quen'die had always thought Lauryl'la's father was so dashing. If there were a guy she had a real crush on, it was him. She sometimes had wondered what it would be like to have the life of her best friend's mother who had the opportunity to work and raise a family with such an amazing elf.

"Sorry, Father. I'll get home right away. But I have to drop Dee off first, though," his daughter apologized to him while flashing a pair of doe eyes.

"Make that happen _now_! We'll talk later," he ordered while attempting to brush off his daughter's plaintive gesture. With that, he slammed his visor back down, becoming not Lauryl'la's father, but an armored watchhound for the city of Corosa. With a speed that made the maidens' heads spin, the cycle darted off into the night sky; the warden's red and blue gumballs were swallowed in a few short moments by the white lights of the capital.

"Guess we better get back _now_ ," Lauryl'la said to her friend while imitating her father's husky voice in mock defiance. "Don't want to be eaten by the bloodthirsty raptor of Corosa Bluffs!"

"Yeah," Quen'die responded with a slow flutter as she watched her comrade's father storm away. She couldn't hide her sense of admiration and awe. "Let's get out of here."
Heaven Must be Missing an Angel

**S** he found that she could not make contact with her comrades after she had eluded the civil wardens. Something was blocking her communications with them and she was beginning to think this wasn't as easy of a descent as she had planned. Earth's satellite system was scant and avoided with ease, much to her surprise, but whatever tracking arrays the locals on the ground were using alerted the authorities to her landing zone on the bluff. Perhaps it would have been easier for her if she had made downfall during the day so her reentry corona was not as evident. As she flew away from the local bulls, she managed to lose her shape as best as she could in order to defy her description, even though it did slow her down a bit and protracted the chase. Nobody on Earth would believe in a winged elf even if the civil wardens confirmed it, but she really didn't want to take any chances. Considering the recent arrival of the vessels, the entirety of elfdom would be willing to believe anything at that point.

One of her subjects of fret concerned the two young maidens who did see her in her true form. That should be nothing to worry about, she supposed. After all, who would believe the fancies of two giggling elfmaids with stars in their eyes? It wouldn't surprise her if the pair was swearing not to tell anybody in fear of being called insane by their peers. She knew she had been concealed for the most part in shadow, so they could have not seen any details to their witness. It was her best guess of the situation.

Red mana was a bit painful, and even more so since the warden's shot hit a perfect-square mark between her shoulder blades. He must have been a tremendous marksman since she was flying away while barrel-rolling and never in a straight line. Upon caressing the point of impact, she could feel that the wound had healed all but closed. Her steely nails were dripping with her own black blood and that made her feel rather humiliated. From then on, it would be best not to underestimate the abilities of mortals. At least it didn't hurt much after the initial strike, but if the ammunition were of a higher volume of energy; it could have paralyzed her ability to work her wings for a vital moment or two. That would have been disastrous if she fell into the wrong place at the wrong time.

Finding this Black Hood Group, as they called themselves, was simple enough, at least. Not very furtive of a location for a secret headquarters and this made her doubt their function, but they were nothing more than useful idiots for the greater plan anyway, so compact with them should be fleeting, she figured. Who cares what would happen to the lot of them once everything was in place, she thought? From what she had learned, the majority of elves in this kingdom regarded them as dilettantes at best or paranoid fools despite their heavy press-coverage and cult following. After escaping the pursuit of the local authorities, she was able to find their little nest just as she had predicted.

The two members whom she first accosted were in their middle ages and were bumbling about the narrow alleyway as they studied the signature which denoted the site's entrance. The male was debating with the female if it was the green door to the left or the unfinished door to the right. She could smell by their odor of familiarity that the pair was mated. She assumed that their offspring must be equally stupid.

"It's the green door," Sammian said as she feigned fatigue and pain in her voice. She limped toward the couple and they recoiled in shock by the light of the way. She had been standing in the far shadows of the alley for minutes and neither of them could detect her. She banked that her piteous portrayal would disarm them.

"Who are you? Eh, we've never seen you before!" The female called out for the both of them. Her eyes popped so wide that they glittered from out of the shadow of her black hood and her body began to stink of fear and guilt. Sammian specialized in the scent of guilt; it was all a part of her former job, to be honest. She reasoned they must believe her to be one of the authorities, which, until her recent escape from her Home, would have been the truth.

"S-Sammian. My name is Sammian," she continued the wounded-dove charade. "Please, you must help me. I have a message for Travius."

"Are you all right?" the female asked with sincere concern. This should be easy, Sammian thought. She's soft and very trusting; a true mother to be sure.

"I'll be fine; I just need to speak to Travius. I have important news for him in regards to tomorrow night." She made sure to attune her voice to an Atlantean accent so it would be easier for her to blend in with the locals. "It's through the green door. He's in there," she told the group member her own business.

"Take it easy now, lady," the male said as he approached her with some trepidation. "You can call me 'Poplar' and that's 'Germander,'" he said while pointing to his mate. Sammian remembered from her intel that the Black Hood members all went by arboreal names. Oh, how gauche, she thought. A _nd my name is 'Stinkweed,_ ' she chuckled to herself and hid a tiny smile from her own silent jibe. How this little organization had managed to stay afloat with such gullible stooges amongst its roster boggled her mind. Elves were an inferior lot, though.

She had never held a high opinion for the race, but ever since cutting ties with the Boss, her usual feelings of indifference or superiority had fast been turning to complete scorn. These beings were downright pathetic! She assumed that she could pummel the life out of them, raise them from the dead, apologize for her actions-and they'd accept it! To prove them all the more pitiful, although she remained half-covered by the alley's shadows, she still hadn't even bothered to hide her wings and the two remained unaware.

"Germander, go on in and get the Big Oak and tell him we have a visitor," he ordered his wife in one of Atlantis's agrarian dialects. She obeyed the male as if it were her duty and disappeared through the portal. Sammian couldn't wait to meet the esteemed leader of this ragtag outfit. He would certainly be a sight to behold, she thought with much sarcasm.

"W-Wait! What's that!" Sammian pointed behind the back of Poplar and he turned around like the clumsy oaf he was to see what held her attention. As the elf fell for the oldest trick in the proverbial book, Sammian discorporated her wings from mortal view and entered the light of the alleyway. Yes, she noted, the Black Hood was indeed paranoid if this elf was any indication. Her normally-iridescent wings had been mutating over time into a dull brown, almost like a moth's ever since she fled from the Boss, which struck her as odd.

"I see nothing; what is it?" The Poplar was frantic.

"I'm sorry," Sammian adjusted her muscular shoulders. "I think it was just a dog. I apologize for sounding so paranoid, but it's really important that I meet with Travius tonight."

"That's all right. Germander is fetching him right now. You're in good hands here." Poplar was not quite correct about that. They were all in Sammian's hands as far as she was concerned.

"I think we should wait for him back in the shadows just in case a patrol walks by. Don't you agree?" She asked of the frumpy elf.

"Eh... Yes, yes. That is a good idea," he said while making his way with her into the recesses of the alley. Sammian could smell how nervous he was as they skulked.

"You arrived just in time. Big Oak hasn't begun the meeting yet as far as I can tell." Poplar slapped his phone to check the time. Although he was late for the tour of the new facility, Travius' actual speech and planning session wasn't set to begin until 10 p.m.

Within minutes, the green door opened for a very tall and thin grey elf who entered the alley as if he were royal. Germander was no longer with him. Although Sammian was not familiar with much of elfdom first hand, she could tell by the unruly look in his eyes that he was not the typical denizen of an elven community. With a shepherd like this one, she winced; she continued to have her doubts about this plan. Foresight was not one of her special attributes, so she could not tell how this plan would transpire.

"Poplar! Please! Get inside. You are already late. I shall take care of our new interest here, if you will. Now scoot!" This one was an authoritarian; always took the lead. His little congregation was obedient to him to the extreme she could tell as Poplar fled thought the door posthaste; almost with fear and reverence. Once he was compromised, Sammian surmised, the others should easily fall in suit with his new orders.

"I am the Big Oak. What will you have with me?" The wild-eyed elf announced as he stood much too deep into her personal space. He was as tall as she and that was quite tall for an elf. She didn't discount his command; he held plenty of it and he smelled of very little fear or apprehension. As a matter-of-fact, she was confounded to read that he had only a slight capability of experiencing that emotion. So strange for an elf, she observed.

"Good evening, Lord. I am Sammian..."

"Sammian what?" he cut her off with a curt huff. Such boldness she didn't expect from his kind.

Remembering her environment as she tumbled over the streets of Corosa while the local authorities were firing bolts of mana at her, she recalled a name on a delivery coach. It would have to do.

"Drinn. My name is Sammian Drinn."

"Drinn? Like the soap company? Ha!" This, Travius found horribly amusing, but she smelled no skepticism, just mirth.

"Eh, yes, I am kin to that family," Sammian lied.

"Well, Sammian Drinn of the Drinn Cleansing Products Family, come along with me into my sanctum. We must discuss your news as you say you have . But let's be quick about it because I have a meeting to manage and a speech to deliver with my group." The old elf was haughty and pleased with himself. Sammian made a note to smell if he believed anything he told his congregation during his speech.

Plush was not a word to describe the headquarters. The place was a disused cannery and it still stank of tin. The halls toward his sanctum were very narrow and she felt as if she almost needed to walk sideways just to fit though them. Walking single file was the only option, she learned as they rounded a tight corner.

"There is something about you, lady, Sammian Drinn," Travius began using her full name. "Normally I wouldn't idly let anyone into these headquarters, much less my inner space, but you are somehow different. I can just feel it in my bones."

_That's because I just implanted a suggestion in you, you dolt,_ Sammian thought to herself. This guy's ego was really too much. Her empathic abilities were integral to her old job but this fellow was much too easy. Without conscience, she rolled her eyes at his bravado.

Travius' "inner sanctum" was a laughable display of spirituality. Incense burners from all over the world banked one of his walls and symbols and sigils to his gods were in every direction she looked. Posters of protest covered other walls which shouted slogans for various earthly campaigns (Mammoths are my Friends!) for which she could have cared less. His desk housed Tel'lemurian bonsai bushes with pride at each corner as if in some pretentious display of worldliness. After settling into his high-backed chair with a perfect posture, he ordered her to have a seat across him.

"So, my dearest Sammian." She could see he was looking at her with a less-than-noble eye and she could smell his desires increasing now that they were alone. "What news do you have for the Black Hood as the lovely Germander informs me?"

"Well, I...," she tried her best to feign naiveté and confusion. It would make the elf lord feel as if he held the upper hand. "I work, or I suppose I should say, _worked_ in operations at the Circle of Climate and Environment and..."

"You work with the Mars exploration project? What are you doing here!" Travius was all but stunned by this as his wild eyes were ready to bust out of their sockets.

"Not anymore! Not since I learned of the horrible things that have been going on up there. I have attempted to inform my superiors to cancel this expedition, but they just refuse to listen." Sammian tried her best to sound as desperate as possible to accentuate an air of urgency. The old elf was, without a doubt, intrigued.

"Of course, why would the conceited intelligentsia ever listen to a mere janitor?" Travius said.

"Well, actually, I oversee the janitors there, but that isn't important. In my position, you become privy to certain bits of information, and when you can't help overhear terrible news, it's all but impossible to just keep mum. All of elfdom may be in grave danger and the politicos just won't heed any warnings!" Travius's eyes were alight with wonder. It was apparent that he was entranced by her tale and she had his undivided attention.

"Tell me more!" Travius was drooling it seemed with anticipation for some drama.

"The bottom line is that there is something we have awoken up there. Believe me; I had tried to inform the proper channels to get them to listen to reason; to stop the expedition, but now they view me as a troublemaker. The Thuless'in defense elder on the screen is right. Those _things_ out there are Mars's response to our meddling!"

"I agree," Travius began with a touch of calm in his voice. He was trying to control Sammian's emotions as best he was able, she could sense. "But you must maintain focus. Now tell me, what did you precisely hear and from whom?"

"All right," Sammian pretended to gain composure from her phony distress. "When I was working in operations, I overheard though an open intercom two of the elder wardens in charge of the expedition, and these are top dogs here, arguing over lost transmissions from Cydonia Base. We lost contact with them two days before those pyramid-things just appeared from out of nowhere. We awoke something. Any fool can see that, but the elders are still planning another sortie to build yet another structure up there by order of the regent herself! What buffoonery! Buffoonery that will be the end of us all!" Sammian broke into crocodile tears. "I can't believe it! Now I fear for my life! Those idiots will maintain their horrid expedition no matter the risk and they know that I am blowing the whistle! I had no choice but to come here. The Black Hood Group foresaw this type of scenario. You people are my last resort, if I may be so bold..."

"My child!" Travius was closing in for an unwanted embrace. "Your bravery is commendable and no insult is taken. You were indeed correct to come to us. It's only natural from someone on the inside to assume that their superiors are on their side; that they would listen. But you must be aware that elitist greed and scientific arrogance will always, _always_ , rule over good sense, even if it means the very end of elfdom."

He had his strong hands wrapped around her powerful shoulders and Sammian was quite surprised by that strength. He too was a bit taken by how hard her arms were, and she became worried that they would give away her true nature. Judging from the look in his bulging eyes, Travius had more than politics on his mind. One did not need to possess supernatural empathic abilities to see this intent. This guru was good at manipulation and she could read with little difficulty that he had done this on many occasions with several of the females of the Black Hood. It was time for her to act with an amount of haste before the situation got out of hand.

Sammian wrapped both her wiry hands around his wrists and pulled the lanky old elf even closer to her body. Her amber eyes became blood red; her pupils were stygian pinpoints.

"You will listen to me, old fool." She used her _Voice of the Glorious Mind_ which resounded with an unearthly timbre and supernatural song. Travius' mouth was hung agape as his eyes lost any kind of natural comprehension. Sammian was the only living being in existence at that moment. He could hear no other sounds but her voice and that sound was mesmerizing.

"The Mars expedition will be halted permanently. You and your people will stop this tomorrow night when your king delivers his speech and you will stop it at all costs. All channels of political influence will be severed from this endeavor and only the Black Hood Group can do this. You will then lead your nation as a truly free and safe democracy." Sammian had no problem compromising Travius' mind. He was entranced through and through as he was mouthing each and every one of her words in silent tandem. His big blue eyes were oozing tears as he had never cried before.

Sammian chose this fringe element to carry out her plan instead of more reputable avenues. The Black Hood group was an independent operation and really had no system of checks and balances unlike the much-too-redundant and fragmented bureaucratic government of Atlantis. Were she to attempt a military coup; it would be stopped from the inside with ease. She could not very well mesmerize an entire army of these people in time to prevent travel to Mars en masse. The elven mind was more resilient than her kind's in some ways. Their free will given to them by the Creator was so strong, yet they so often failed to use this gift. This outfit was respected by a portion of the people of the nation for their pranks and theatrics. Their actions could go straight to the heart of the public and waken them to the dangers of interplanetary travel if conditions were right.

Travius felt as if he had been asleep for days when Sammian at last let go of his mind and emotions. He was confused as to why she was across the room, but he was filled with conviction for his cause. All of his suspicions regarding the insidious and absurd notion of molesting Mars were confirmed. This strange and vagrant lady was the answer to all of his hesitations as she would be the pinnacle of the Black Hood's mission. Thoughts of a safe and happy world of good sense and prosperity for the people of the earth were more concrete in his mind than ever and he could taste that success. Tonight would mark the beginnings of a power unlike he had ever known.

Travius looked into his hands at the slim case. In a utilitarian script, the lid read, " _Property of the Atlantis Civil Defense. Unlawful Possession Prohibited."_ Underneath the warning, the number " _5012_ " was embossed. This master manipulator knew what to do and he wasn't afraid. His cause was just and he knew that justice would be his shield. It felt so heavy, but not with burden - with force; he couldn't fail.

Sammian beamed a beatific smile at the Black Hood's leader. "Travius, do you understand what you are to do? Do you understand what we have discussed?"

"Yes, I understand this more than anything. The clarity is unlike never before." She could still see tears streaming down his cheeks although he was unaware of them.

"Go to them, Travius. Gather your people and deliver the message to the world." She no longer needed the empathic hold upon her subject. He was in a state of bliss and it could not be broken. Travius believed in full that he was now enlightened and the master of not only his own destiny, but the entirety of elfdom.

Sammian was thankful that the sleeveless tunic that she had appropriated from an unwitting young lady downtown was of a dark-brown color. It helped to hide the bloodstains from the wound inflicted by the meddling civil warden. At that very moment, a bewildered and amnesiac female was detained in a municipal processing cell on the charges of indecent exposure in a public place. Sammian reasoned that she would have had a much more difficult time infiltrating the Black Hoods in the nude. Now, that civil warden's handcaster had been a bit more difficult to acquire.

Travius and the mysterious lady walked through the tiny and winding halls of the Black Hood's back office headquarters. They needed to begin the meeting as she had taken too much of the elder's time already and this would only prove to disrupt the attention of the rest of the group.

The main hall of their base of operations was very spacious, if not dusty, as it had been the remains of the cannery's production floor at one time. Travius gestured to Sammian to sit aside as he took to his improvised stage of old wooden crates. She complied. It was now time for Travius to shine and do what he did best.

Ahead of the old elf, the members were awaiting their dearest leader with restless rustle. Upon his taking of the stage, their rumbling and murmurs halted without a skip of a beat. Sammian could tell how much of a respectful hold the orator had on his flock as none of them noticed her even though she was a novelty to them. Their attention was not only undivided, but enrapt. However he chose to persuade the group now was in his hands as Sammian knew she needed no further involvement. This was going to be an ace in the hole, she supposed. These people needed a leader for so many different reasons. As she scanned their eyes from her side of the stage, she could read the various histories of the congregation. Drug addicts, debtors, prostitutes, runaway spouses and even a couple of cases of pure insanity populated this throng. One member of the crowd, a young male, carried a horrible smell of garbage for some reason; probably a derelict. All of their minds and hearts were hungry to fill their voids of anger, despair or regret. A lord such as Travius held that key for them. Their minds were happy and empty of any other concern when the tall, slim demagogue raised his hand to order their concentration to attention.

"Lords and Ladies of the Black Hood," the guru's voice needed no amplification. It was a natural gift of projection and meter that one could not learn to master. This was an inborn ability much like her empathic manipulations and, for a fleeting moment, Sammian was impressed with the elder fool.

"It has come to my attention through the divine grace of the gods themselves that we meet here tonight. In our times of uncertainty, we now have the fortune of an answer. This evening, I was going to surely bore you with the details of this fine, new headquarters. I was going to implore to my faithful devotees of a plea you are very familiar with. With the information I have just acquired by a very brave and remarkable young lady, we, the agents of the Black Hood are now called to take our efforts a step further. A step many of us have been fearful to tread. It was a step that many of us felt the inability to even begin. As of tonight, we fear no more. The answer has come to me, my friends and confidants. Armed with this information that I am about to share with you, you will know that what we must do is righteous for not only all of elfdom, but for the very fabric of the planet earth itself."

He was good. With each word dripping with pure charisma, the elf widened the audience's eyes. His voice would begin in a calm and slow fashion, only to build louder and quicker with each parcel of thought. This speech was not planned or practiced. Sammian could have planted the words in his mouth with ease, but such a trick wasn't needed with this one. She was again impressed by his oratory skills for a moment or two. Thoughts of a puppeteer controlling a puppet who was controlling tinier puppets came over her and she smiled at that. This was a much better solution than compromising an official channel of milquetoast scroll-shufflers. After tomorrow night, this elf would control the decisions of the whole world and on this world the people would remain; every single one of them.

As Travius postured, Sammian could sense he was trying to impress her more than any of the others in the throng. His large eyes, though impassioned, would dart over to her with fleeting flashes. Was it for her approval, she wondered? There was no trace of fear or mistrust in his scent, so it wasn't a look of suspicion. He not only felt the lust for her as he attempted to display back in his sanctum, but a true feeling of love. She might be able to use this in the future, although she had a love of her own to tend to. Once the plan came to fruit, this could prove to be a wonderful bonus.

"To be blunt," he continued with a well-timed dramatic pause. "Mars is a time bomb and we must stop all interests in it tomorrow night and no later. Please, if you've never paid more attention to me, then this is the time, as each and every one of your lives depends on it. Allow me to explain..."
Excelsior

**L** ord Reyliss' children had no clue that they would be going to the Palace Arena the next evening until he arrived home from the lab. Tonight, the High King of Atlantis was to address the nation, and since the Reylisses lived in the kingdom's capital, they were fortunate enough to attend the address live. Both of his children were so excited because the trip was unexpected and everybody knew it would be a grand event. This would be Quen'die's fifth time attending a royal address and Kaedish's second; the first of which he was too young to remember.

As with any of these spectacular galas, the arena was packed to capacity. Elves from all over the world were in attendance and the two young ones considered themselves lucky to soak in all the different sights and flavors from around the globe. The whole place was a cavalcade of so many different colors that Quen'die thought her head would spin. In every direction she turned, she would see a genuine representative from one of the many kingdoms throughout all of elfdom. The reds, golds and greens of Gonduanna were present in their fragrant kiosks which sold spicy foods that could burn her palate for hours. The oranges, purples, and blacks of legitimate Kumari fashion whisked past her in a blur as their people spoke in their musical tongue. The frosty blues and silvers of the frost elves hosted all manner of foreign games and activities within their tents, many of which were a bit brutal and required a waiver of responsibility out of their potential contestants. Even the blues, greens and reds of the sea elves made an appearance despite some of Atlantis's resentment from their conflict resolved not long before. Not to forget, the underdeveloped nation of Avalon was present with its humble offerings in a pavilion of its own, although it was significantly tinier than the others.

Lauryl'la was nowhere to be found, even though Quen'die searched the grounds and pavilions in earnest for her thick auburn hair. Her folks had been more or less living on patrol ever since the pyramids appeared out of thin air and the poor maiden was probably stuck at home watching this extraordinary festival on the screen while doing the laundry or some other such housework. She felt so sorry that her best friend could not share this grand experience with her.

Kaedish was talking with his friend Noopy near the entrance of a Thuless'in rodeo ring nestled within the frost elf pavilion. Beyond their small forms, a petite Tel'lemurian lady was trying in desperation to hang onto a bucking sabercat and was quite successful in her attempt. The crowd around her was cheering in disbelief as the demure, little elf belied her fragile appearance with such a brutal sport.

Noopy wasn't Kaedish's friend's real name. No elf in their right mind would entitle their child with such a horrible moniker. His real name was No'pini Galinin, but since his already-large ears drooped to near perpendicularity out of the sides of his head, his classmates added his first name plus the nature of his poor ears and thus, 'Noopy' was born and the name stuck. Much like Kaedish, Noopy was obnoxious and most likely the mastermind of any of the duo's schemes. Quen'die was rather disturbed that her younger brother was such a follower, especially since she viewed herself, as did her friends, as something of a leader at school. Well, in the areas of sports and academics; males on the other hand, were more of Lauryl'la's domain.

To avert an international disaster on account of her brother's and his stupid friend's antics, Quen'die sauntered through the tight crowd over to the two young lads in order to see what they were up to. The gods only knew what deviant machinations Noopy had devised and would attempt to drag her brother into. It was a small wonder the two were each other's only friends, Quen'die sulked.

"Okay, what are you doing behind the tent?" Quen'die ordered of her brother with all the authority of the school's academic warden.

"Well, well **...** " Noopy began in a tone that dripped with spite. "If it isn't Quen'die the Red Pest, er, I mean _Tempest_ ," he continued as he failed to make a decent witticism of her runta nickname.

"Hush! I wasn't talking to you, Noopy," Quen'die commanded with barely an acknowledgement toward him. He was wearing a blue and white t-shirt which announced with racist pride that " _Lems Suck_!" over the graphic of a white lemon.

"Don't call me that! Only my friends are allowed to call me Noopy!" the odd, young elf shot back through gritted and rather protruding teeth. "You don't have that privilege!"

"But you must understand, Noopy, you don't _have_ any friends!" Quen'die tried to reason with Kaedish's cohort with much sarcasm. Beyond them in the rodeo circle, the Tel'lemurian maiden at last fell from the cat as the crowd cheered. The PA system announced with a thick Thuless'in echo that she had broken last year's record by thirty seconds. The crowd answered with a deafening chorus while lights from the manamirrors illuminated her new-found shining fame.

"Uh," Kaedish began as he feigned interest in the rodeo and looked away from his elder sister. "We were just gonna..."

The maiden spotted the big blue and white lozenges clutched in her brother's hand. He was holding a pair of manabangers.

"What were you expecting to do with those!" she cried.

"We were going to freak out all the sabercats in their pens when we cracked them, that's _what_!" Noopy answered for her brother in defiance toward the maiden.

"Kaedish!" she shouted in total anger. "Stay with me and give me those bangers or I'll find Rylla's father and you'll be in the dungeon for months!"

Kaedish was mischievous, but not much of a criminal. As he and Noopy got older, some of their escapades were becoming ever the more nefarious and his sister many times worried that he would soon be influenced into doing something really stupid and would have to spend a few months locked-up. Her parents had even noted that Noopy's poor behavior was becoming more malevolent and advanced in nature. Glynna and Ferd'inn hoped they would one day see to it that Kaedish be banned from associating with him.

"Uh-Okay...," he relinquished the miniature explosives with full culpability to his sister. He looked up at her as if she were a civil warden herself and he had been caught holding the bag.

"Hey, Kaedish, you don't have to...," Noopy attempted to protest.

"Go away, Noopy," Quen'die cut him off without bothering to look at him again. She was disgusted that he would try to hurt those cats and perhaps even cause a stampede in the Royal Arena.

"We're going to find Mother and Father right now. I don't want you out of my sight this entire night," she scolded the elf as she dragged him toward their parents' whereabouts by the hand. Kaedish said nothing other than blurting out a little whine that made him sound like an infantile elfling. Little did either sibling notice that the odd, skinny elf was glaring at their backs with pure menace.

The pair of young elves was navigating away from the Thuless'in Pavilion and Noopy's schemes. Nearby, the Kumari Pavilion was hosting a bazaar of their national goods and foods. The aromas of the spices were making Quen'die hungrier than she could remember and she hoped that her parents would have dinner waiting when they met them in the dining tent. Next to a large utility coach, a natha was unloading crates of precious metals from its trailer. Kaedish was shocked at how big the giant Kumarian was. He had never seen one in person, although he knew from the manascreen about their colossal stature. Fifteen feet tall never had seemed so large when one had read or heard about it, but to be next to something that big in real life was quite intimidating.

"Oh wow! A real natha!" Kaedish pointed a rude finger at the orange-toned titan.

The large Kumarian looked down at the elf and uttered a response in a low and deep, yet quick language that defied its depth which he could not begin to understand. " _Veddithanna nur gommi yar_!" To that, Kaedish squeaked like a field mouse and retreated to the grasp of his sister's hand.

"See? It isn't polite to point at those you don't know," she chided the young lad.

As the elfmaid and her brother rushed through the crowds toward the Gonduanna Pavilion where their parents were buying all of them dinner, Quen'die spotted one of her friends by the structure's entrance. It was nice to see a familiar face through this multi-national hubbub.

"Quen'die!" Tam'laa Na'rundi shouted over the din of the crowd. She was jumping up and down in order to be seen above the heads of the milling elves.

"Hey, Tam'laa!" Quen'die waved back as soon as she met her friend's bouncing sight. Kaedish was still in her tight grip as she made her way over to the pavilion's threshold.

Tam'laa was a transplant from Gonduanna who had met and befriended Quen'die when the two had entered adept's school. More and more gold elves were moving to Corosa ever since the end of the Tel'lemurian Conflicts as Atlantis and her native kingdom had been staunch allies. Her father even served with the 431st. Gonduanna Royal Casters regiment during those times, which pretty much made him a five-star hero in Kaedish's opinion. Unlike Lauryl'la, Tam'laa was more or less patient with Kaedish and the two got along rather well.

"It's so great to see you here!" the gold elf greeted the siblings. Tam'laa's infectious smile made Quen'die forget her anger with her brother and likewise, Kaedish's fear of getting punished for his foiled stunt. He too split a grin.

"Hey there, Tam," Kaedish was still smiling.

"What's going on?" Quen'die asked her friend, although she expected no true answer. "We were about to meet my folks in the pavilion for dinner. You should come with."

"Of course I will," Tam'laa began. "Especially since my folks already found yours and got us all a giant table reserved!" After only two short years in Atlantis, her Gonduannian accent was already fading.

At the table, Quen'die's family ate with Tam'laa's as Kaedish was attempting to spark up old war stories with Colonel Na'rundi. He was more than happy to give honest accounts of his adventures, unlike the propaganda-loaded tales of blood and horror to which his uncle would treat him. Quen'die was not accustomed to eating meat very often, but the warthog kebabs were a tasty exception. Gonduannian cuisine was much spicier than the bland offerings on her native menus, which usually consisted of vegetables, mushrooms and, now and again, seafood.

The two families headed for the central ring of the arena after finishing an enjoyable meal with each other and situated themselves as close as they could squeeze to the High King's stage. They felt rather fortunate to find seating about fifty yards from the throne itself. On a semicircular pedestal not too far above their heads, a Defense Forces golem master was booting her operations terminals. Her control halo was burning alive with mana. Kaedish was happier than ever for this privilege and watched her commence control of the bulky wooden extramatons.

"Oh wow! You're a golem master! I wanna join the ADF and do that too!" The young elf bounced up and down while trying to catch a peek at the officer's array of consoles.

The white-robed officer's fluid movements were like an elegant dance as she puppeteered the large elflike-machines which marched many yards away from her orchestrations. Without breaking from her graceful motions, she looked down at Kaedish with mechanical precision. "Beat it, kid! You're going to break my link!" she growled.

Although disappointed by the rebuff, Kaedish shrank back into his seat in awe of the lady and her responsibility. She was a grand battle angel, as far as he was concerned and he was happy that she even bothered to notice him at all.

Tam'laa pointed to Quen'die's left flank at a group of young elves that were chanting and waving signs aloft which protested Atlantis's Martian expeditions. All of the protesters were donning black robes. Over the collective voices of the crowd, the two could make out the repetitious chant - "Mars is Not Ours!" The group was led by a very tall elf, much older than the rest of the throng, who was standing on a crate of some kind.

"Oh wow! The Black Hood Group!" Kaedish beamed. "Those guys are terrorists! I just know it! I'll bet they're responsible for all of the sabotage of the ships we've been having in the bay lately!"

Quen'die's friend smiled and shook her head at Kaedish's enthusiastic paranoia while his sister rolled her eyes. "I don't think they have quite that kind of funding, Kaedish," she reasoned.

"Hey! Isn't that On'dinn Jak'sin over there with those freaks?" Quen'die asked the gold elf while trying not to point at the severe-looking group. "He's in my History and Cultures class. He always has some political discourse to argue with Professor Miryon. I can't believe all the maidens in class secretly think he's cute." The pale young elf in question was indeed amongst the entourage waving a placard of dissent with fervor.

"Quen'die, I understand your father works on the expeditions, but we can't be so sure that their concerns aren't valid," Tam'laa began. "Only time will tell if they are freaks, as you say, or are just asking the world to be a little more careful. We don't really know all that much about Mars yet, you know."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Most people don't question progress very often," she agreed with her point. "It's just that now that we have the means to get there, I suppose we should take advantage of it; at least more than just a little peek." Although she never considered herself much of one to follow the herd, sometimes Quen'die wondered if she was not influenced with some ease by her classmates' peer pressure. Amongst her set of friends, On'dinn was not all that well liked, but she had to admit, he made some amazing points in her classes. She was never blunt or rude or even disparaging to the lad; he was just kind of different.

The lights over the audience in the inner circles were beginning to dim with a quickness that made it difficult for their eyes to adjust. Over the PA, the Royal Orchestra could be heard revving up the Atlantean National Anthem. Harps and lutes were amplified among the introduction of heavy drumbeats, which were building up the music. The entire throng of elves in attendance rose up and covered their hearts with their right hands in honor of their kingdom. Overhead, armored flitcycles of the Royal Guards shot out over the perimeter of the arena to pace a sortie of their larger cousins, the armored limmers. Unlike the colors of the regular army, the Royal Guard was bedecked in blue with small traces of white adorning their hulls. The mana-powered machines performed a circular ballet that rose higher and higher in ever-tightening loops. On the ground, a procession of Royal Guards led a contingent of golems around the outer and inner rings of the arena. All the guards were encased in the head-to-toe blue armor gripping shields of the Atlantean elite while they held their battalion banners aloft. On the face of each of their tower shields, the head of a bull was engraved in a mighty white graphic; the Atlantean standard symbol. They all donned the nautiloid comb-morion helmets of the Atlantis Army Elite.

Kaedish was in a trance. His mouth hung open like an elfling's first Harvestfest feast. Quen'die herself was quite taken aback by the national procession and, for once, shared her little brother's enthusiasm about such things.

"Wow! Look at the flitcycles! Those are real ADF scouts! I wanna ride one of those!" Kaedish bawled in amazement as he pointed to the small, circular pacercraft.

Without warning, two flights of disc-shaped battlelimmers swooped down above the crowd's heads in frightening and dangerous low arcs, treating all those present to a wonderful light show consisting of the trails of red, white and blue mana which coursed through their innards. Kaedish ducked without taking his eyes off the vehicles and could see members of the Royal Guard adorned in their ceremonial battle gear. They dove so close that he could all but touch the ship's heavy manacasters. Military equipment and weapons were not the first of Quen'die's concerns in life, but she found that this mechanical dance above her head was nothing short of beautiful. Instruments of death were transformed into abstract shapes of graceful light and color.

"No! I take that back! I _definitely_ want to be in the Royal Guard!" Kaedish changed his mind as fast as the flying saucers sped above him upon his close encounter with military stardom. "You know, I just love the smell of red mana in the..."

"Oh would you just knock it off!" Quen'die and Tam'laa admonished the young elf in unison and laughed at their synchronous outburst.

"I don't know, maybe Kaedish has a point. That belly-caster was kind of cute!" Tam'laa added under the whining din of the battle materiel's' screaming engines. This only made Quen'die laugh even harder.

As the national anthem continued, a large group of the guardsmen rounded the king's stage with metered ceremony. Following this, emissaries and dignitaries from all over the world filed to their seats as well. Representatives from all of the major circles of government seated themselves in the lavish old oaken rotunda which housed the king's stage.

After the national anthem wound to a close, the king's regal anthem blared through the PA and all elves in the arena knelt. With the same slow, measured steps as the guard, the Royal Procession emerged from out of the darkness toward the throne. Even Kaedish knew to keep his mouth shut during such a solemn moment. The king's personal guardsmen, assistants, viziers, advisors and nannies surrounded the four-year-old elfling who was draped in long blue and white sabercat furs which were carried by his assistants from behind him. The Speaker of the Throne was his mother, the Princess Regent Cai'lee Du'gonn. She held the elfling's finned crown upon a blue velvet cushion as it was much too big for his tiny head. The Lord Baron of Corosa, Vill'dren Hasten held the king's scepter at his side, as it was almost the size of the king himself.

The entire arena took their seats after the king was placed upon the high throne by the Lord Baron. One member of the royal contingency took to a large, ornate dais at the center of the rotunda which was brimming with microphones and surrounded by an array of small manamirrors which were, most expectedly, used for the purpose of recording a good close-up for the media.

"To the Lords and Ladies of Atlantis and all of its citizenry, I present unto thee a Royal Address and Proclamation as uttered from the throne of our Majesty, High King Rigel'liss IV from the mouth of Her Majesty, the Princess Regent Cai'lee Du'gonn of the Kingdom of Atlantis. Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!" the announcer declared before bowing away from the rampart of microphones.

With the same solemn steps as the procession, Princess Du'gonn took to the dais with pure elegance to commence the king's address. She was a very young lady, not much older than Quen'die and delivered the speeches for the child-ruler as the king was so young that he could not even speak for himself. Her late husband, who was the little elfling's father and royal predecessor, died from an illness about two years before. Her tiny son was, by lineage, the next in line for the throne, and thus, was crowned the High King of Atlantis, although the Princess would manage the kingdom's affairs in his stead until he was of a reasonable age.

"Maiden, will you look at the Princess!" Tam'laa whispered over to her companion. "She is _dripping_ with royalty!"

Quen'die had to admit, the Princess was sparing no expense on couture. She was dressed in an almost translucent gown woven together with small jewels and polished sea shells of finest workmanship. Her headdress was a slim coif that draped over her shoulders, and fashioned out of the same materials. Out of its crest, sprouted a platinum-blond topknot streaked with blue dyes which rained down the sides of her face. Her regalia was shimmering a blue and white within the lights of the stage and the beams of the innumerable manamirrors. She looked like a living fountain of blue silver. With her royal grace, the Princess entered the nest of recording devices and began to speak.

"His Majesty, the High King wishes to address the fine people of Atlantis and her provinces on this momentous day. Two nights ago, our nation, as with all the nations of the earth, had been the subject of visitation from agents of unknown origin. By Royal Decree, His Majesty in all of his wisdom does hereby declare these edicts:

"It is in His Majesty's wisdom that the people of his kingdom and all of its holdings maintain their behaviors as is usual and continue with their pursuits of fruitfulness and happiness in honor of king and country. Atlantis need not and shall not evacuate. Agencies and bureaus of utmost qualification from this kingdom and elsewhere are currently investigating these foreign structures with due diligence. It is in His Majesty's wisdom that these tasks be meted to those qualified entities and to none other.

"It is in His Majesty's wisdom that order be maintained in the behaviors of all Atlantean elfdom in regards to this event and otherwise. It is in His Majesty's wisdom that evidence of molestation or injury to these structures is to be dealt with swiftly and with due process in accordance to the laws of this land.

"It is in His Majesty's wisdom that the exploration and the eventual habitation of the planet of Mars be maintained with scheduled gods'speed as we continue this mighty race to colonize that world with the assistance and competition of agents foreign and domestic.

"It is in His Majesty's wisdom that these intrusive structures are decisively not Martian in origin, nor do our efforts on that world relate to their appearance on the soil of this land. His Majesty, the High King Rigel'liss IV of Atlantis has spoken. So be it!"

"And so it shall be!" the entirety of elves present in the arena resounded with the hum of thunder.

After the united response of the audience, the Princess remained amongst the array of the media as they filmed her in frantic desperation with their manamirrors to record the event for their respective communications' corporations. Reporters from all over the world were jumping up and down in order to catch her royal visage and to cull any hot gossip from her. To be certain, Quay'liss Dalian was among the horde of newsies and she made it an imperative to be up front and center.

Quen'die thought the Princess looked like the sea goddess herself arising from the foam of the Eastern Atlantean Ocean; such a sight to behold in her youthful beauty. She was a native Tel'lemurian and her marriage to King Rigel'liss III was something of an unsaid peace offering between his kingdom and that of the sea elves.

From behind her, Tam'laa could hear the sounds of laughing compete with the reporters' barking questions. Although the arena was murmuring and its collective din was rolling, the young maiden could sense something was amiss. She looked behind to see the black-robed protesters beating on their signs and sandwichboards.

"Hey, Quen'die!" she jostled her friend's knobby elbow. "Check out the protesters. They're really getting riled up again."

To that, Quen'die looked over her friend's shoulder and saw that the black robes were now jumping up and down. Within seconds, they were resuming their chant which protested the Martian expedition. " _Mars is not ours! Mars is not ours!_ "

"Mars is not ours, Your Majesty!" one of the black robes shouted with a maniacal taunt much louder than the rest of the dusky collection. It was the tall elf on the crate. He was what seemed to be the ringleader of the group. His long chestnut braids were interspersed with the grey of age and he had the wild look in his bulging eyes of youth. The gangly old elf reached into his robe and produced a small handcaster that was brimming with angry red mana. With a cackle that could only be described as insane, he pointed it toward the rotunda and let two bolts loose in the direction of the tiny king.

A swarm of black robes ducked behind their leader and some attempted to flee, perhaps in the hopes of severing association with the aged lunatic. The two crimson bolts of deadly mana flew from the point of the caster, screaming their livid howls of murder. " _Skeee-YOP! Skeee-YOP!_ "

With divine luck, neither of the shots hit their marks. The red energy only managed to take out a microphone and one of the many reporters' manamirrors; each disintegrated into embers. On stage, with the immediacy of a flash of lightning, the High King and his mother were both encapsulated by the blue shields of the Royal Guard. Those valiant agents created a cobalt phalanx in every direction from their royal bodies like a giant tortoise shell made of elves and armor. It was an absolute fact that nothing could damage them at this point. Underneath the makeshift bunker of guardsmen, the little king cried. " _Mama_!"

The announcer who introduced the decree took to the assembly of microphones without a care, despite the immediate danger of a psychotic gunman at large and wailed the mighty taunt - "Gods save the king!" Self-preservation was not an option in his position and he pointed toward the direction of the offending shots.

From what seemed to be out of nowhere, spotlights illuminated the clutch of black robes as ADF scouts rappelled from their flitcycles overhead. Within seconds, the old freak who tried to kill the toddler king was engulfed by a barrage of armored bodies. Some of those bodies were frank and brutal in their hammering of their ivory truncheons. As members of the Black Hood tried to escape, many were entrapped by the professional combat methods of the ADF, and were to be taken into justice. Amidst the fracas, however, a couple did manage to slip by as the crouched pair of elfmaids saw.

"Holy hells!" Kaedish exclaimed. "The ADF is beating the tar out of that fool! This is so awesome! We could have been killed!"

"Kids! Get down!" Lord Reyliss yelped as he took cue from the ADF's actions and jumped on top of his children into a huddle for safety.

"Ouch! Father! They got him already! What gives!" Kaedish protested to his father's unneeded gesture of overprotection.

Once the would-be assassin was contained, a scout retreated from the fray and barked an all-clear into his phone to an unseen commander. " _Alpha down. Peanut and Lilly secure_ ," the scout's metallic voice hissed.

Quen'die was very annoyed at her father as well. "Father, I think we're pretty much safe now. I mean, the ADF took care of everything, so do you think you could get off of us?" This was just more proof that her father would sometimes go too far with his worries. How he would ever manage to travel to Mars, much less explore it, boggled her mind.

"Hey! Easy! Take it easy!" Lord Na'rundi yelled out as he tried to deescalate their father down from his outburst. "Everything is _all right_!"

Banda Na'rundi helped the Reyliss children's father back up on his feet. He was still trying to settle his nerves while Lady Reyliss stood off to the side in a state of concerted fret. She was biting her lush bottom lip as her brow furrowed with concern, not so much for her children or the king of Atlantis, but more for her husband. She was not taking her eyes off of him and Quen'die knew she was bothered with an honest gravity about something whenever she did this.

"Darling," Glynna addressed her husband with a touch of rancor after everything had calmed down a bit. She was trying to hold back her exasperation, it was clear. "I think we need to talk about some things when we get home," she continued as her eyes were fixed upon him with an authoritarian wariness that neither of her children much cared for. Quen'die supposed that the two of them would be up for a long time arguing once again and this made her stomach drop. Sometimes the maiden felt that it was her duty to jump in the middle of their fears and make everything stable again. _Nominal._ That was the term she had learned in Astrophysical Navigation. It meant that all navigation systems were within a normal range even though there may be slight, undetectable fluctuations. Regardless, everything was A-OK. That is all Quen'die wanted for her family. _"A-OK_."

"Hey! The ADF's codename for the king is ' _Peanut_!'" Kaedish announced as he recovered from Father's huddle as if it had never occurred. Sometimes that elf could be stuck on a notion for what seemed like hours, no matter what else happened. "That's so goofy!" For some reason, this information struck him as funny and he couldn't resist laughing about it. Everyone present ignored the young elf's new-found factoid as they were much more concerned about Father's impulsive behavior.

Down in the rotunda, the overhead lighting shut off and rendered the stage pitch black so that the royal court could be whisked away without detection. After such an attempt on any royal's life, emergency measures were taken to ensure their safety. This would be, of course, all over the news in a jet flash. Kaedish wished that school was in session so he could tell his friends that they were almost fried by a bolt of red mana, but after checking some personal inventory, he realized in all honesty that only Noopy would bother listening to his tale.

Kaedish's thoughts were halted when he heard the golem master call down to him from up in her console array. He could not believe she would bother to initiate another conversation with him.

"Hey kid," the officer said with a trace of harried bite. "So, you still want to be in the ADF?" The light from the control halo strapped on her forehead was blinding him and her voice was pure music to his pointed ears.
The Devil Had a Little Lamb

" **N** o way!" On'dinn shouted in a panic. "How in the hells was I supposed to know the old coot was going to try to shoot the king!" He was grabbing at the top of his hair, and was close to pulling out the long blond locks in frustration. "We're way in over our heads, Minnie!"

"Shhh! Will you knock it off?" his friend hissed. "You must keep quiet or they're going to find us here! We'll worry about Travius when we get to safer ground. If we can get there, that is."

The smell under the kebab kiosk where the pair hid was about as foul as the garbage bin On'dinn was thrown into the other afternoon. Rotting food and trash and the gods only knew what else lined the ground and as On'dinn shifted his weight, he felt his hand plant square into something squishy. He really wanted to wretch again as thoughts from the dumpster resurfaced.

"Ugh!" The young elf flicked the muck off his hand. "You bring up a good point, but how exactly are we going to get to safer ground? Eh, 'Nightbloom?'" His voice was soaked with sarcastic resentment. "You know, this kiosk isn't exactly a permanent fixture. Sooner or later the vendor's going to pack-up shop and find two _terrorists_ along with...with whatever I just set my hand into."

"Okay! Just let me think." Minn'dre knew that she was the superior in their secretive outfit and was by default expected to take responsibility for damage control when needed. This situation was much direr than a rally or protest that got a little too heated. This was an assassination attempt of a royal and no single solitary soul aligned with the Black Hood Group would sustain a brief stay in a holding cell, of that she was sure. She was wishing that On'dinn wasn't acting like a helpless old lady right then and contributed a little more, but she too was in a panic.

"Do you think we should go back to HQ?" On'dinn blurted out of pure confusion and impulse.

"No! Are you kidding me? That place is probably crawling, no, _roiling_ with wardens. Maybe even the Royal guard as we speak!" That was the worst idea to ever be uttered from his mouth, as intelligent as she sometimes thought he was. "You need to focus and use your brain, Basil, if you expect to help here."

"All right, then. Our homes are out of the question," the young lad reasoned. "Gods, my father is probably being interrogated right now!" Visions of the old elf strapped to a manaspike in the royal dungeons ran through his imagination. He never much cared for him as he was a drunk and rather heavy handed but, nonetheless, he felt like he was going to faint thinking about such a horrible fate for the old lord.

"Stop speculating!" Minn'dre snapped. "You need to focus on the now! Right now, we're wanted by every law enforcement agency in the kingdom, maybe the whole world and we are hiding under a Kumari kebab kiosk. Oh, yeah, and it smells terrible."

"Okay, right now, you say. Right now it's still crowded. That's good," On'dinn observed. "We can try to lose ourselves in the crowd and then figure a way out of the Royal Pavilions. Then maybe we can make it to our safe-houses. The authorities can't possibly know about them. We aren't going to get a clear picture of the situation from underneath a tablecloth."

"Great! Now you're thinking. Let's just work together and take this in little chunks." Minn'dre could see that her comrade was gaining some semblance of composure. Perhaps he wanted to impress her and knew that he was acting like a little elfling. "First, we'll lose the robes and keep them under the kiosk. I know it's a dirty move because the kebab vendor is more than likely going to take some heat for it, but he'll be cleared. Eh... you _are_ wearing clothes under that, yes?"

"Yeah, I am," he confirmed. "Just a t-shirt and linens."

"Good. Nice and inconspicuous. Me too." The bout of reason was not all that reassuring to Minn'dre, but at least they were both lucid by that point and could think of how to get to the next step. Both discarded the dark robes under the grease catch of the kiosk's guts and On'dinn threw out his dirty hands.

"What next?" he asked his superior. The sounds of the crowd milling about were still thunderous and the two needed to whisper with loud tones to the point where it sounded more like hissing. Among the multilingual din of the people, some cries and sobs could be heard.

"Now, one at a time, we're going to carefully peek out from under the cloth and see if it's clear to make a break for it. If so, we'll merge into the crowd seamlessly by pretending we're buckling our shoes." On'dinn was feeling much more secure hearing his friend's directions. She was such a professional, almost as if she had done this kind of nonsense a few times before. Her composure inspired On'dinn to act.

"I'll go first; real slow, Okay?" he assured.

"Go for it!" she encouraged with a slap to his posterior.

On'dinn drew back the ornate orange cloth with as much care as he could manage only to see a stampede of feet adorned in boots, sandals and shoes from all over the world. There wasn't much of a pattern as to how they were walking. Most of their gaits suggested confusion. This was good in his opinion because they could slip into the crowd with less of a chance of being noticed. "Coast is clear. Just a bunch of people going to and fro."

"Very well," Minn'dre began. "Now it's my turn." With that, she drew back her portion of the cloth with an equal ginger. Like On'dinn, she was met with a rumble of feet. The pedal display before her was broken all of the sudden by a pair of white boots hewn from cured ivory. The backs of the boots bore the number " _9915_." It was the ADF and they were but inches away from the kiosk.

Minn'dre recoiled from the cloth in terror and put a finger up to her mouth in one movement. Her already-large eyes were huge with fear. "Be quiet," she mouthed to her partner without a sound.

On'dinn slapped a hand to his own mouth out of reaction to stifle a shriek just in case he couldn't control himself. He was grateful that he hushed himself with his clean hand. Without her telling him, he knew that the authorities were nearby.

"9-9-1-5 comcheck. Ten-pee-em," the filtered voice intoned beyond the cloth with an even meter. "All clear. Tango sign negative."

On'dinn wanted to faint again. That voice possessed so much power that he felt like a tiny cockroach in comparison. He looked at Minn'dre for support; for something to help him regain his own standard of power. The maiden's eyes were closed and her head was down; her platinum bang hid one half of her face. Perhaps she was meditating, On'dinn wondered. Not a bad idea, he thought; if he could muster the nerves for it.

"How many does command say we rounded-up?" It was a female voice that joined her partner. There were two wardens right beside their hiding spot. This made On'dinn's head swim with fear. Minn'dre managed to remain in her position like a stone.

"Eh, last report claims twelve. HQ is gonna run a check for any known members of those freaks and then we'll get a full roster and corral them for questioning," her partner rabbled through his helmet.

"The scouters got the gunman, at least. I hear that guy's a lunatic. He'd show up from time to time on the screen, but he isn't making any sense in this incident. Keeps repeating the same word over and over again, 'Sammian, Sammian,' or something like that," the female warden reported with a lazy drawl as if she were becoming bored now that the action had settled down.

On'dinn vaguely remembered that name from the last night's meeting. That was the name of that new lady who attended. She wasn't sitting with the rest of the group and she was quite the striking one. He wondered if she was from Xo'chi or Kumari or Kamden or somewhere like that because of her dusky complexion, but he remembered that she spoke perfect Atlantean. Maybe she was a second generation import or something. Strange person, On'dinn recalled, and Travius seemed to really be taken by her. Perhaps she was the source of that intelligence he kept going on and on about?

"Any idea what a 'Sammian' is?" the female warden inquired.

"Who knows?" the male shrugged back. "That guy was always a nut in his goofy public service announcements. It's probably some stupid code word that he and his fellow freaks think means something. Probably made it up when he was meditating or some such nonsense. He's a bit of a wine-o, too, isn't he? Who cares? We got him good and the king and his mother are safe."

In some ways, On'dinn liked the warden's philosophy: "We got the gunman. All is well. Case closed." But the young elf knew how the government worked. The Black Hood Group would now and forever be international villains just because Travius had a longing for a mysterious female. It was so disheartening, he lamented. The group had always been conscientious and demonstrated for the rights of various underdogs, but now that Mars was possibly staging an attack on Earth, as Travius had claimed, it was imperative to voice their opinion. The only problem was, Travius went way too far with this mission and now he and Minn'dre would have to live with the horrible consequences.

Over their comms, the wardens' dispatcher quipped, " _All units, all units: Unrest in the Tel'lemurian pavilion. Possible stampede at their golem demolition arena. All units respond to that location._ "

"That's us. Come on, let's babysit the Lems," the male groaned. "Maybe we'll get to neutralize a maniac golem wrangler or something"

With that, the teens heard the bulky boots trudge away from them. On'dinn let out a sigh of relief and Minn'dre double-checked beyond the tablecloth with utmost care.

"Coast is clear again. I can't find them," she announced. "We better act now while that ruckus is going on over in the Lem's pavilion. That'll help take some of the heat off us. "

"Are you sure they're gone?" On'dinn asked as he was approaching a full state of frazzle.

"Yep," she assured her comrade. "We'd better go before our luck runs out and the kiosk manager tears this operation down. Remember to pretend that you are buckling your shoe, all right?"

"Got it," On'dinn flashed Minn'dre a strong thumbs-up.

When the two snuck out from under the kiosk, they were close to being bowled over by the tight crowd. It was still chaotic throughout the pavilions and they didn't want to get caught up in something unrelated with the wardens by coincidence such as starting a fight with the random drunken lout.

"What now? What's the next step?" On'dinn felt helpless again, even though they made it through the first phase of their escape plan.

"We need to scout the area to see what the exits are like. I expect there's high security there and nobody gets in or out without being checked," Minn'dre explained.

"How are we going to get past that? If the wardens scan my I.D., I might be profiled!" The young elf's general fear was turning to panic once again. He had to remain calm, he told himself.

"Remember, in small phases. We aren't at that point yet. We just need to check out the area and then we can plan from there. Little steps," she instructed him. This made him feel a bit better, as it appeared to him that they were succeeding.

"Here, hold my hand and we can pose as a couple," she suggested with a beckon. On'dinn made sure not to hold her hand with his soiled one. This made him warm up inside, but he wished that they were holding hands under better circumstances, however.

They chose to avoid the Tel'lemurian pavilion, as they had heard from the warden's comm that it was in the throes of a mini-riot. The main entrance of the grand complex would be out of the question, but since they were in the Kumari pavilion, they assumed that exit would be less congested.

The exit of the Kumari pavilion had an ADF cordon set with a full complement of bulls. Elves stood in line from all over the world, although the majority of these were Kumari. They were filed in a messy queue as they were being processed by the wardens to be granted permission to leave the grounds. The couple saw two hulking nathas in line with their handlers nearby.

"Heh, maybe we can hitch a ride on a natha's shoulders and the wardens won't see us," On'dinn joked to quell his nerves. This was not a viable exit and his hope was turning to a dull shade of grim.

"We could always try the Thuless'in exit, but it's going to be the same everywhere. The ADF and the Royal Guard are all coordinated in this effort. We simply wasted too much time hiding before we could slip away and we really shouldn't waste any more." A wave of hopelessness assaulted Minn'dre. She was supposed to be a senior member of the group and she couldn't figure out a way to leave an arena in a simple fashion. This was a situation that was much more desperate than the garden variety demonstration that got out of hand.

"You know, On'dinn, I think we should just try the official route and maybe we'll luck out and easily walk away like anyone else." What a terrible idea, Minn'dre skulked, but sometimes the best way to slip past an elephant is to be the mouse.

"Whatever you say, but I don't like this," On'dinn had relied on luck many times in the past to get out of a tight situation, but as last evening in the alley had demonstrated, his luck wasn't always in top form and he wondered if the gods were betting against him again at that very moment.

As the queue inched closer to the pavilion's portcullis, On'dinn could see that there was a portable stockade installed for the purpose of detaining any troublemakers. Its gates were closed, but the young elf could make out the forms of people sitting in its gloomy light. He wondered to himself if any of them were known comrades or just detainees from some unrelated, ancillary unrest. Perhaps both. Either way, that was the last place he wanted this queue to end. All he wanted was to fall asleep in his bed located in his dysfunctional home and wake up the next day like everyone else. No matter what the end of this line held for him, that lovely mundane scenario seemed out of the question.

"I still can't see what's going on up there," Minn'dre was craning her long neck to discern the situation at the gate, but it was impossible to peer over the enormous frames of the nathas.

"Sure, it's going slow, but everyone seems to be getting through," On'dinn reasoned. Of course, none of these revelers were in cahoots with a guru who was insane, without a doubt, and who had just tried to kill the High King and his mother.

After what seemed a nervous eternity, the elves could see the rest of the arena gates as the queue before them melted. Installed not far beyond the stockade was another portable trailer. Emblazoned across the white vehicle in a shocking blue, corporate script, read the name "BioMana Inc." On'dinn and Minn'dre both froze upon seeing this. The bulls were not only in the business of checking I.D.'s.

"Oh my gods!" On'dinn gasped. "They're using biomana scanners! They can read our thoughts and feelings and even the time five years ago when I snuck a piece of blueberry pie from Grandmother and blamed it on the dog! We're totally dead!"

"Yeah," Minn'dre was dejected down to the bottom of her heart. "I don't know about this either. Maybe we should just go up there, be honest and turn ourselves in? Perhaps they'll be lighter on us if we take the upfront approach."

"Sure, and perhaps I have a grappling hook that can launch us to freedom from out of here." On'dinn's sarcasm was returning as he was frustrated and could not very well hide that feeling. "That's a foul idea as well. Anybody in association with this is going down deep. You heard the warden; they caught twelve of us already!"

"You know, I think that means we are about the only ones they haven't!" Minn'dre considered the headcount. "Other than that Sammi-person or whatever her name is, I think we're all that remains free of the Black Hood!" She was disappointed that her ability to get out of the situation was so amateur. Considering the severity of Travius's crime (Oh, they'll all get blamed, even though Travius was the only member to know of the stunt he pulled) the government's coordinated counteractions were well above any of the Black Hood's coping abilities. At that moment, Minn'dre hated Travius with all of her nerve. He betrayed all of them and went into a direction that none of the Black Hood would deign to sign up for. She hoped he was getting his and getting it good right as she thought about it. The only problem with that kind of reasoning was that she too would soon suffer the same fate. None of the group would be spared the manaspike, she was sure of it.

After more interminable shuffling foreword, a large Thuless'in was protesting against being subjected to the bioscanner. He was bellowing out with a thick accent that he had no problem relinquishing his I.D., but he didn't trust that thing. The wardens were serious; within seconds, five armored guards held him steady and lifted his burly face up so that the attending labcloak could flash the device in his eyes. As big and imposing as he was, he was crying like an elfling. The labcloak gave his handlers the thumbs-up, but he was ushered into the stockade nonetheless. On'dinn figured it was for resisting or something he considered trivial.

Still holding her hand, but tighter than ever, On'dinn felt like being sick again for what seemed the millionth time in two days. It was the young elves' turn for analysis and he didn't want to let go of Minn'dre's grip. At that moment, she was his boss, his big sister, the mother he had not seen in years, and his wife, as he had hoped one day, and he had to sever that contact with her. With pleading eyes, he looked at her without a word for her to take the lead on this one. He set to it in his mind that he would corroborate with whatever she did.

They were going to go down together at the same time. On either side of them, an array of ADF armors and a labcloak were waiting for them with stern expectation. On'dinn walked up to his respective analyst with as much bravery as he could muster. Minn'dre no longer existed. The only other person on the earth was the scientist who wore a severe blond bun and had a mana-halo strapped around her forehead. In her hand was the biomana scanner's control tablet.

"Place your head in the brace, please and relax." The scientist pointed to the small neck support on the tripod next to her. She spoke with rote ennui as she had made this introduction all but thousands of times that night. On'dinn looked off to the side for a quick instant to see an ADF bull meet his eyes though the blindness of a lozenge-shaped visor.

The scanner was such an odd experience. On'dinn was in an immediate trance and he felt so calm and clear for the first time that night. Thoughts and memories rushed through his mind with lucid recall and, for some reason that he couldn't identify, they made him feel comfortable and at home. As his reach of mental recall approached his dealings with the Black Hood Group and Travius, the fugue cut out and went black. The world of guilty fear returned around him like the nightmare he was in and he had found himself clutched in armored hands and cuffed when he came to.

"It's a check. We have one!" the analyst chimed with shrill pride.

"Come with me," a bull hissed though the buzz of his visor.

On'dinn looked over at Minn'dre who met his eyes. Tears streaked makeup down her face as she too was being ushered into the mobile stockade. The young elf thought she had never looked so juvenile; a role that she had refused to play in front of anyone. This incident was too much for her and she lost that usual composure.

"Should we separate them?" Minn'dre's officer asked the scientist.

"No, we have these two where we want them. I can't risk losing them by moving them all over the place. We'll just have them sequestered at HQ," the labcloak huffed with weariness.

On'dinn's head was swirling. Minn'dre's courage had been compromised and he had seen his life flash before his eyes in the literal sense. Now, he felt more alone than ever. It was decided; he supposed that the throng of elves waiting to go home to their comfortable beds were gaping at his arrest and murmuring with wild frenzy about whether or not he and his comrade were the assassins. He didn't care if he was or not. He just wanted to go where they were going - home.

Inside the stockade, the benches were full of elves who committed some sort of infraction or another. Scanning the heads of the detained, On'dinn could not make out any familiar faces other than Minn'dre. No other Black Hood members were caught at that particular gate.

So many of those faces seemed confused and all of them scared. Even the robust Thuless'in, who appeared like one never to back down, was frightened as a kitten. These people were the crowd now and they all knew by some instinct that On'dinn and his female friend were not thrown into the coach for drunk and disorderly conduct. On'dinn figured that he had been changed at this moment for the rest of his life and was now the stuff of legends; for better or worse.

On a manascreen at the far end of the mobile brig, messages looped over and over again to those detained:

### CITIZEN!

You are under arrest. Please make no attempt to move until you are ordered by the arresting officer.

Any attempt to resist this arrest or any attempt to molest other detainees will result in immediate corporal punishment and a possible lengthened sentence.

### YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Following the dire news on the screen, another volley of information was splashed across the cured-elm monitor, announced by an annoying, loud beep:

### KNOW YOUR RIGHTS

You have the right to maintain silence.

Your words and actions here may be used against you in a Circle of Law.

You have the full option of legal representation, regardless of resources, by a warden of counsel who will be appointed unto you if you cannot afford one.

If you do not understand any or all of these rights, submit a request for clarification upon entering the internment facility. Multilingual translation and instructions for the handicapped are available there.

### GODS SAVE THE KING!

These displays of due process made On'dinn feel sicker than ever; not just in his stomach, but throughout his spirit. Upon seeing those stark words on the screen, he knew he was no longer a free elf. Another matter that sunk to the central pit of his core was the fact that he could very well opt to request an execution considering his alleged capital offense. The wardens and the people would love to see that. Self-judgment enabled by the obviously guilty. What confused the elf was the exact matter of his guilt. He had no knowledge that his leader was going to try and kill a child and his mother who also happened to rule the kingdom in which he lived, but can mere acquaintance be worthy of his death, he considered? Atlantis allowed protest anywhere and to anybody by law, and as far as he was concerned, he and the rest of the Black Hood were not guilty of anything the more he thought about it. Sitting there on the hard, cured bench he hoped upon hope that this would just be an overnight stay and his innocent intentions would be investigated and he could go home in a short time. Travius, on the other hand, was a different story. That maniac fired red mana in an open forum at the High King and the Princess and there was no mistake of his charge - the attempted assassination of a royal personality.

Minn'dre was back in her meditative state. On'dinn wished that he could be there in her head right at that moment. She seemed so peaceful and composed, unlike the tear-stained wreck she was a mere ten minutes before. Life in the moment was something she could always manage to control, as if she were the master of her very environment. The ache of the hard bench, the screeching ping of the screen and the stink of the detainees mattered not to her as she was sending her mind and spirit into another realm. Gurus and sensei and all manner of counsel would speak of such abilities, but On'dinn could never make a go of transcending the moment with any real skill to his desired reality. "Happy places" some of the less-informed would call them. No matter how often he fooled himself into believing that he could reach his inner space, he was never successful in arriving there. Not like Minn'dre. That maiden was in a zone which only severe pain could breach. How he envied her abilities in so many ways.

"They're going to take you away and you'll never be heard from again!" a blithering drunk on the far end of the trailer belched as if he were congratulating himself. His disheveled state led On'dinn to believe that this was not a rare condition for the old wretch.

"What's to say you won't be either?" On'dinn shot him an incensed look. It made him very angry. Being lectured by some street bum was the last thing he needed right then. Minn'dre was uncommunicative in her blissful zone and he was to be incarcerated for the utmost of capital offenses in the kingdom. Worst of all, he reeked of garbage from the fair.

"Heh, suit yourself, but I didn't try to kill the king." Even though On'dinn believed that Atlantis's meddling with Mars was provoking an attack from that planet's locals, the people loved the little king by and large, and times were pretty good for his citizenry. On'dinn too, was rather happy with the sign of the times; he just took the political view of improving what wasn't broken. Protests, tagging, and even a merry prank or two was all he considered with the Black Hood; activities with which he could sharpen his political skills, but assassination assignments were out of his league. If anything, he fancied the Group to be one that strove for peace and equality. Perhaps he should have listened to his uncle: _If it's not broken, don't fix it_. No, he countered. Such complacency led to stagnation and stagnation led to corruption.

All On'dinn could do in that brig was to wait for the inevitable. Every minute on that bench he expected the trailer to lurch into movement and travel to his ultimate doom in a dungeon deep under the city. Regret was not what he wanted to feel no matter how hard the wardens and jailors were sure to beat it into him. He was much too young for such a feeling and he knew his original cause was just; Martian travel needed to be reconsidered. Travius's insanity was not to his knowledge and, hence, not his fault.

An unbearable length of time passed under the bright glare and the white walls of the internment trailer. He figured he was sitting there for over a half hour. The other detainees looked at him like he was an elf-sized keg of red mana fit to explode. Despite the crowd in the vehicle, the others gave him a wide berth. One of the double doors opened up and the young elf knew it called for his fate.

"On'dinn Jak'sin and Minn'dre Harvatt?" A tall lady in a brown tunic filled the doorway. She was beaming a gigantic smile. Upon hearing her name, Minn'dre broke her trance and looked over to the source of her call. This lady wasn't their counsel nor was she another bull or scientist. It was her and there was no mistaking it; deep, rich skin like someone from Kumari and flaming tight curls like a resident of Gonduanna. It was Sammian.

What in the gods' names was she doing here, On'dinn wondered? Was she some sort of agent provocateur employed by the monarchy to root out Travius? This was quite a confusing turn of events and he couldn't figure out where it all was going.

"Come on you kids, let's go home!" the tall lady sang to them with overflowing joy. The rest of the trailer looked at the pair with wide-eyed confusion.

Still cuffed, On'dinn and Minn'dre looked at each other and got up together. Sammian ordered them to turn around and before either of the teens could register it, the tight dig of their bonds was broken.

"Okay, I just need for you to exit the vehicle slowly. No funny stuff!" Sammian's voice was heavy with mirth as she tried to sound like an authority figure. On'dinn was beginning to wonder more and more if this was a breakout. Even though he was still confused, her tone implied that something unofficial was happening without a doubt. He decided to keep his mouth shut and go with the lady and see what was to transpire.

Once the trio was outside, the line hoping to exit the Kumari pavilion was still snaking its way beyond eyeshot. The wardens had a long night's work ahead of them. On'dinn supposed that he could have been waiting in that trailer until morning at that rate. Sammian's intentions of his release were still unknown to him, but at least he was off that hard bench and the cuffs were no longer cutting into his wrists.

Sammian sauntered past the wardens in the cordon. They all looked a bit dazed and just stared at the three like reverent zombies. Not one of them was trying to stop or seize them. Perhaps this was indeed official business, On'dinn considered?

"Thanks a lot guys! See you later and keep up the good work!" Sammian chirped to the armored cadre as if they were her employees getting ready to leave the job for Wintersfest break. She even patted one bull on his hulking ivory chestplate.

On'dinn and Minn'dre looked at each other and gave knowing looks. Something was not at all right with the wardens' behavior. None of them responded to the lady and their movements were entirely too slow, as if doped. On'dinn wondered if she somehow drugged them. Maybe with an ampoule? He had the sinking feeling that the frying pan had given way to the fire. Minn'dre looked at him again to imply that they should be careful and On'dinn nodded to her in silent agreement.

"Well, guys, how was that for a jailbreak?" Sammian's gaiety was still evident in her voice.

"Uh, thanks!" On'dinn broke his silence.

"Don't mention it," Sammian was leading the pair out of the pavilion's gates and they were all soon free of its confines only to be met with the lights of downtown Corosa ahead of them.

"So, where to now?" Minn'dre was attempting to reinstate her authority which she had enjoyed with the Black Hood. She liked the situation less than On'dinn and was also confused as to the nature of their release. She figured that taking the reins of this encounter was the best policy.

"Well, I don't know about you guys," the brazen lady began with a giggle. "But I am famished! I could eat a rhinoceros! Any suggestions where we could get one at this hour?"

The Sea and Shell was open twenty-four hours, but their food offerings were rather limited, Minn'dre thought. After being released from the clutches of the ADF on attempted assassination charges, visiting her workplace was the last thing she wanted to do. More than anything, she wished to go home and sleep for days in order to stave off the stress of that night but she knew deep down inside that Sammian was not about to let that happen.

"Ahem...," Minn'dre began to collect her nerves. "We could always try the Sea and Shell. They're still open, but I doubt rhinoceros is on the menu."

"Sure, whatever. Lead the way." Sammian seemed disinterested in the answer to her query, which Minn'dre found strange, but she beckoned the teens ahead of her, nonetheless. Perhaps it was a good time to make a break for it, Minn'dre wondered? This lady was an odd one and she exuded an aura of some kind of darkness that neither of the two could pinpoint, nor wanted to.

The pair walked ahead of the ominous elf lady and looked at each other. They wished they had the ability to read each other's minds so that they could devise a plan in silent conspiracy to be rid of their freakish savior. Minn'dre winked at her friend a sign of collusion. On'dinn smiled back; this was going to be good.

As the three treaded with awkward silence in the direction of the Sea and Shell, Minn'dre broke it, "Say, you know something, eh, Sammian, correct?"

"That's my name!" the tall lady sang as she wore a now-blatant phony smile.

"I don't believe that the Sea and Shell _is_ open tonight. Eh, on account of the king's address, you know," Minn'dre was quite pleased with her cover story. This was going to be an easy out for them, she was sure of it. She looked over again at On'dinn and gave him another wink.

Still behind them, Sammian announced, "Oh, that's all very well, you stupid little fishies. I don't really need to eat food anyway."

For just an instant, Sammian's odd response to Minn'dre's lie registered to the young elves and they looked at each other again with a mixture of fear and conundrum. The exact nature of what she had just said eluded them both and they wondered for an instant what indeed it was. They never got their answer, but rather a sharp bolt of pain to their heads. Then their world went black.

***

Sammian flew with the two teens in her arms with ease. Their bodies may as well have been a couple of sacks of groceries as far as she was concerned. She managed to fly low that time so that she wouldn't be bothered with the meddling of the civil wardens due to whatever tracking systems they used to tag unidentified flying objects. Her winged form, however, was quite apparent to the people milling about below.

Corosa's streets at that hour of the night were crowded much more than usual. The bulk of the foot traffic consisted of revelers leaving clubs and taverns or even house parties. Sammian reasoned that it must have had something to do with the king's address and the fact that many of them still had the week off work due to the drama created by the pyramids' arrival. Whatever the case, the populace underneath her was more likely than not inebriated and few would remember seeing her swoop over their heads except as a foggy memory.

Elves were beginning to take notice at the winged lady flying overhead as they were pointing and whooping in sloppy joy at the avian wonder. It was too delicious of an opportunity for hijinks and Sammian had to play up her legend during her stay on Earth.

"I am the evil Moth Lady! Beware! I am going to eat you all!" she packed in her booming statement with a dramatic cackle like some witch from an old faerie tale.

At that, many of the revelers below dispersed into alleyways or even jumped into dumpsters. One pretty young maiden pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of Sammian with its manamirror.

"I love you, Moth Lady!" she whooped like a drunken fool. "Whoo-hoo!"

What an idiot, Sammian thought. She flashed her new-found adoring fan a quick and angry rude gesture in response. Sure, she took her picture, she shrugged, but at her velocity, there was very little chance that her form would be anything more than a dun blur obfuscated by the dewy lights of the city. Even if it were crisp and clean, her appearance would not be quite as newsworthy as the assassination attempt on the king's life. Her little show of avionics would only merit a back-end blurb on the newsscrolls the next morning. More than likely, she guessed, the little slip of a maiden snapped a picture of the moon with her messy aim and nothing more.

The time for fun and games with the late-night gentry of Corosa had to end. Sammian needed to make it out to the countryside before sorties of wardens and their foul little flitcycles took notice and began chasing her like they had the other night. With her cargo in her arms, this time avoidance of their casters would not be so easy, but at least she could use the captive elves as living shields or even chaff, if need be.

Sometime later, she landed in the field of a farm not far outside of the city. The land was sandwiched in between two of the giant vessels about five miles away on either side of the rural property. Sammian wondered what was going on inside of those things. The suspense was nagging at her as to why she had received no contact, yet she had to find out the status of their situation soon.

Most of those farms had dire wolves or trained sabercats guarding the land. It wasn't much of a concern, she figured as all earthly beasts were terrified of her. If they could run from her, they would, but most froze, hid and remained silent as they shook with mortal terror. It was four in the morning and not one solitary chirp of even a cricket could be heard. That was much to her misfortune as she needed to find something living because it was imperative that she call up her new boss. If worse came to worst, she would have to use one of the young elves as a vessel.

Why the young male always smelled like garbage, she could not figure out; perhaps he was a derelict like some of the other dregs that were members of his little group. He was the one who carried a rank odor to him the night before as she could sense it from across the large meeting area. Whatever his reasons, it did not matter; she would soon not need him once she received further instruction.

The small barn, more of a shack to be honest, was abandoned, or at least appeared to be so. Most of its equipment was cleared out as she could see by the depressions on the ground and the few pieces of machinery still about were falling apart from age and neglect. To her dismay, no animals populated the structure, so she would have to find a suitable subject elsewhere.

Contrary to scholarly belief amongst some mystic circles, elves did not possess supernatural abilities to see in the dark. Sammian's kind, however, had no problem, and the longer Sammian had been on Earth, the more she enjoyed the darkness. As the barn was disused and lacked a link to the manaflow, it was pitch black, but she had no difficulty navigating the shadows.

Searching the small loft, she was lucky to find racks of whitewash stored in a shadowy corner. It was best to prepare the summoning first so she didn't have to sit for two unconscious elves and a screeching barnyard animal while she installed the necessary devices. The last thing she needed was some nosy ranch hand being alerted by a bleating beast. To begin, she twisted a rusty pole into the ground with her bare hands which slid into the earth with ease. Opening the whitewash, she fashioned a large circle with a triangle inside of it with a crusty old brush she found resting on top of the can. The pole was positioned to perfection in the center of the configuration. She knocked the young elves out pretty hard and they would be sure to remain that way for quite some time. If either did waken, she figured, she could always afflict them with amnesia. Sammian would need to do that anyway at some point, she estimated, but since this plan called for no loose ends, killing them was always an option and not one above her.

Lambs were expected to be good animals for a summoning. Although somewhat stubborn, the little beasts would prove to be easier to handle than say, a dire wolf. They were also slower and easier to catch, but the little buggers could be rather loud when distressed. Sammian didn't fancy the idea of running around a barnyard all night when there were more pressing matters at hand.

As per usual, the fields of the farm were dead silent. It was most certain, all the animals were there, but they were playing possum with her. They could sense her unearthly nature, unlike the psychically-thick elves and this fact caused their bashfulness. Sammian too, had to employ stealth and avoid open spaces, because any elves out and about the property did not share the inherent fear of the lesser beasts and that would open a complete new can of worms. She did know that she had to find a vessel with some haste as the fields would soon be populated by elves setting out to perform their early morning barnyard chores.

The lamb was hiding stiff against the wall of a chicken coop nearby. It could not move and it let loose a reactive stream of urine as it stared at Sammian with wide-eyed terror. Lucky for her, it was too spooked to let out a warning bleat. Sammian was sure the chickens could sense her too, but kept mum like any of the other animals. Across from the coop, a jackrabbit died in mid-leap from fright with nary a sound.

Sammian carried the lamb by the hindquarters while clutching its neck so that her hand would muffle any unwanted bleats. If it got too loud and alarming, she would have to break its neck before the elves manning the farm were alerted. This particular lamb was very compromising in its fear as it attempted no resistance and was more apt to faint than run from her.

She tethered the beast to the pole with ease and some ratty rope that was hanging next to the shack's door. It was much too weathered to be of any long-term use, but she was only going to need it for the duration of a quick call to her new boss. It should hold well enough, she figured.

Once placed in the middle of the configuration, Sammian bent her stately frame onto one knee as she grabbed the lamb by its wooly ears and placed her forehead to the front of its skull. Its ovine odor was worse than that malodorous young male she was saddled with for the time being but she would have to cope with it. "What were you getting into, you stinky little monster?" she asked it through a chuckle. With that, she wasted no more time and began chanting the rite of summoning.

Upon finishing the chant, she scrambled out of the circle with haste and studied the beast's eyes for any signs of successful conjuration. The mindless irises of the farm animal were soon filled with godlike intelligence and awareness. Sammian thought she could see the cosmic beauty of his face shining through the ugly visage of the lowly animal.

With the sound of cracking bones, the lamb stood up on its hind legs with an alarming speed and assumed a posture that was beyond its original skeletal design. It turned its head to either side with two more loud cracks. Its neck was broken, to be sure.

"Sammian, my love, it is you. What have you to tell me?" Lucifer asked in a gentle voice uttered from the foul maw of the lamb. She loved the way it sounded like a beautiful song; more beautiful than any of her cohorts ever could sing.

"My lord," she began with joyful applause. "We did it! We are here on Earth!"

"Yes, I can smell it, Sammian," her superior responded with tender authority. "Tell me, what has transpired? Seeing you on Earth bares a good tiding! I am so excited that this glorious plan has taken hold!" Lucifer raised out his lamb-hooves in praise, breaking the tiny beast's body even more.

"The vessels are here, my lord! I had successfully taken control of the Ophan and let our forces through its portal. Not one of them failed to recorporate on the surface of the planet. All of them are well and accounted for."

"Excellent," he began. Sammian could tell he was pleased with her performance in all his honesty. "How did you manage to carry this to fruit, my dear?"

"I crept to the Grand Cornet and let loose a tune of amnesia and confusion. The entirety of the other angelics never knew what was happening after that. It was so easy to get the Ophan to open up. Gagaliel was even standing right next to me when I breached it! Goetic forces rushed right past him and he was never the wiser! Right in front of his very eyes!" She was quite proud of how easily her plan had taken hold for her beloved master. "After that, our forces manned the vessels and discorporated without a single song of alarm! It was so easy!"

"Heh, they have Gagaliel guarding the Ophanic portal now? How amusing. Send him my regards if ever you meet again," Lucifer stated with bland disinterest. "Sammian, have you any report of the others? I am a bit concerned that I have not heard from any of them."

"No, I'm afraid the vessels remain silent here on Earth." Sammian feared that he would be displeased and she didn't want to anger him. "Their capstone lights are blinking, however, although very weakly. It bodes good fortune as it indicates there is some activity inside. I have tried repeatedly through various channels to make contact, but I can't get through. Please, I apologize."

"No apology needed," the lamb's undead voice spat out a reactive bleat. "In time I shall find out the source of this silence. Frankly, that is not your concern and I will wait for one of the goetic officers to make contact when most able." The lamb hopped a bit due to the annoyance of the foreign spirit inhabiting its shell. "However, if time wastes and the vessels remain silent, I will give you instructions regarding when and how to investigate."

"Yes, of course." Sammian was relieved that the love of her life carried no torch of blame for her inability to contact the pyramids. She had done her part by allowing their deliverance to Earth and Lucifer was cognizant of that. He was always so reasonable, but failure was harshly punished. Punishment she could cope with, she just never wanted to lose his favor or his affections. She betrayed the old Boss solely for his love and his love she would make sure to secure. "Oddly, the elven population seems to be taking our arrival rather lightly. Except for a few evacuation attempts and a heightened police presence, their behavior appears rather calm."

"These beings are adaptable to many stressors and can be more resilient than you might think. Do not underestimate them. Speaking of which, tell me of Mars," Lucifer ordered. "How goes it? Are the little elves at least cowering from the notion of further exploration?"

This was a topic that she was hoping he would gloss over, but she knew that he left no stone unturned. After all, it was one of the primary reasons for her report in this dingy barn. "My lord, the attempt on the child-king's life has failed. My sincerest regrets." Sammian winced, half-expecting a tumultuous rage to erupt from the possessed lamb, and she knew Lucifer could sense her nerves.

"Fear not, my sweetness! This is not a setback at all," he intoned with much reassurance. 'That plan was tenuous at best. I am a patient soul and I am fully aware that not all schemes are easily viable. My Great Revolution was not unblemished with problems, as you know, but to this day, we have our wonderful kingdom hidden from the meddling gaze of the Creator."

More relief waved over the demonic hopeful at that. "Yes, it is quite wonderful."

"We still need to prevent any living elven soul from reaching Mars. I need all of them on Earth as soon as possible. After all, I cannot idly chase these little beasties all around the galaxy, can I?" Lucifer let out a laugh in celebration for himself, to which the lamb blurted another bleat. "As you are the only mobile unit I have right now, I have a new assignment for you."

"Yes, my lord, anything," Sammian pled with utmost relief and gratitude.

"I wish that you return to Mars. You have already observed it after you fell, yes?"

"Yes, I have a layout of the little colony there. It's lightly staffed by a small group of elves on expedition," she reported. It was such a strange concept to hear Lucifer confirm that she was now no longer an angelic.

"You will stage a terrible massacre. You will kill all of those who reside there. You will sully yourself with the blood of the fallen and let Earth know that Mars is off limits to elfdom. The gullible fools will believe you with all of their tiny hearts and we will provide them salvation." Lucifer's new plot was wonderful as always, Sammian decided. The plan was much simpler, if not more chaotic than that of the assassination when she thought about it.

"What shall be the reason for the attack? They must not investigate," Sammian inquired.

"Always thinking, my poppet," he praised her with the blessing of love. "Write in their blood epithets of a horrible nature in the ancient orcish language. The simple sheep of Earth will be unanimously convinced that Mars is the orc homeworld and that they are poised to attack! Make this display of dying warning as realistic as you can. Use their manamirrors up there to transmit evidence of this disaster. Send it directly to their leaders. They will finish the duty for us until we open our doors and promise them sanctuary."

"Of course, my lord. I shall not fail you," Sammian bowed with deep reverence to the broken lamb in the circle.

"And Sammian...," he continued with his gentle voice. "I see that you have obtained my special request here." He twisted his woolen head with a sharp crack to Minn'dre's unconscious form which was nestled in a bed of old hay.

Sammian met his direction. "Yes. I recaptured her from the civil authorities. I nearly lost this one."

"Give her my mark on her lower back," Lucifer ordered. "Release her, yes, but never lose contact with her."

"Of course, my lord. Is there any reason that I have acquired her, if I may be so bold?" Sammian was interested in why she had to waste time in snatching this young female in the first place.

"It's nothing really, Sammian. I just need an insurance policy. Things sometimes go wrong," he explained to his new servant.

"Yes, that they do." Sammian remained bowed and rummaged through her mind of any infractions she may have made and wondered if this remark was in regards to her performance.

"And who is the male you have appropriated?" The lamb twisted its dead head over to On'dinn's slumped form.

"Just an elf who was attached to your cargo. I figured he could be used for bargaining, if need be," she reasoned to her master with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Very well. Leave him there. Make sure he's none the wiser of this situation before you take off. Remember your duty and contact me again when you have any new developments. I now leave you." The lamb's body was shaking with little control left in it and could not tolerate the possession for much longer.

"So be it, my lord," Sammian nodded.

"Until we make contact again, my love." Lucifer left the body of the lamb only to let it slump to the ground, its eyes no longer intelligent, but dead. It let out one last dying bleat as its head hit the earthen floor of the barn. A torrent of blood splashed out of its maw with one last twitch where it lay lifeless and at its final peace.

Mars. Sammian had great work ahead of her. As an Erelim-class angelic, she wasn't any stranger to hands-on violent experience. During Lucifer's revolution, she had played a pivotal and ironic role against his forces as she had investigated any dissent amongst her brethren. Such a position had allowed her great access to her realm, but it also required that grim duties be executed. Infiltration and interrogation were her specialties and many of the others in her order feared her and tread on eggshells in her presence. Lucifer had a powerful ally in one of her position, and staging a gruesome event amongst a skeleton crew of elves millions of miles away was not something she would flinch at.

Not wanting to touch the smelly male elf's belongings, Sammian searched Minn'dre's shoulder bag for her tablet. She had to see if her display from earlier tonight went unnoticed on the newsscrolls.

As suspected, the majority of the featured news items focused on the young king's assassination attempt and of course, more drivel about the vessels. She too would have liked to know more about what was happening inside of them, but no earthly news sources would ever find that out. A vicious smear campaign and personality profile of Travius and the Black Hood was splashed across all of the gossip scrolls. Headlines cried statements such as " _The Black Hood Group: Officially Crazed Cultists,"_ or " _Who is, what is a 'Sammian?'"_ Her favorite tagline that blared across the tablet's screen read, " _Travius did it for the Love of Sammian!_ "

Her aerial hijinks were, as suspected, nothing more than a back-end conspiracy theory for the gullible. " _Moth Lady Joins the Party!_ " one read in a bold script. That young maiden who attempted to take her picture was even interviewed, but she was unreliable at best in her recall:

Main>>News>>Culture>>Weird:

Holl'inn Lit'lee was one of the many revelers last night to see the now-infamous Moth Lady swoop overhead to cheer up the crowds after the terrible attempt on our king's life. Her account depicts a daring young lady who braved an uncertain fate to stare the unknown square in the face!

"Yeah, I saw the Moth Lady. She was like, 'I'm the Moth Lady and I'm here to party!' Well, or something like that. She blew me a kiss and everything! We're almost like sisters now. I took her picture, but it didn't come out too well. It was mostly of the moon, but she's really fast, so... People just need to lay off someone who's different and stop judging and being scared. She's really capital!"

"Did you hear that guys?" Sammian announced with mean sarcasm to her unconscious captives and a dead lamb. "I'm famous now and the people love me."

Sammian turned Minn'dre's supine body prone and thrust her tunic up, baring her back. With a wicked fingernail, which was more like a talon, Sammian carved a small circle that surrounded a triangle, much like the summoning sigil into the young maiden's lower trunk as directed. Sammian licked the blood off her claw and wished that she could taste gallons more of it, but such a transgression would send Lucifer into a rage, for certain. Blood. It was the only way in which iron wasn't repellant to her senses and she craved it.

The teen elf made no response to her painful incisions and this caused Sammian some worry as to whether she survived her thrashing. She checked her pulse and felt that it was strong enough for her state. She knocked her out with a hard force and she hoped the maiden hadn't sustained brain damage. It was time for her to move operations and take Lucifer's little blond treat with her. The young male on the other hand, would just have to wake up wondering why he was in a barn with the carcass of a lamb. Whichever way he would get back home was going to be his problem.
Deaf Leopard

**A** mber light from the approaching evening filled the cab of the Reyliss' coach with a warm ambience. Quen'die peered out from a rear passenger window at the gold and purple waves of the ocean. Liner-sized and personal yacht sea traffic was still pretty heavy as some of Corosa's gentry were heading out to their offshore homes and island cottages in the wake of the pyramids' arrival. On the other hand, the road traffic was more or less back to normal levels since the majority of elves either felt no need to flee or figured there was really nowhere to run on land. The elfmaid wondered in the back of her mind if the wealthy knew something about this event that the less fortunate did not.

She still hadn't told her parents about the strange bird-thing she and Lauryl'la had spotted the other night. Although she had planned to, after the incident at the arena and her father's resulting behavior, she knew telling him that she was even out on the bluffs after dark would have been enough to jangle his nerves even more, not to mention her run-in with the civil wardens - even if it was just Lauryl'la's father. Confiding the story to Mother would not have worked either, because such a tale would get back to Father and then he would be an absolute wreck. No harm was done, so maybe some things were best left unmentioned, Quen'die figured. Mother wouldn't believe the part about the fifteen-foot-wide bird monster anyway.

Her parents had agreed last night at Mother's insistence that Kaedish be allowed to stay home alone while they met with the Mitlans. Lord Reyliss, of course, was hesitant about leaving the thirteen-year-old unattended, but his wife figured it would be a fine treatment to his overprotective ways, as well as a good lesson in responsibility for the young lad. Knowing he was in hot water after his display at the King's Address, Lord Reyliss conceded to his wife's demands quickly, but with much silent reservation.

As for reservations, Quen'die had her own to tend in regards to this dinner at the Mitlans'. As far as she was concerned, Lord Mitlan's daughter, Venn'lith was downright disturbing. Sometimes an elfmaid could just sense the true intentions of another despite the face they wore. It was an ability most females had mastered well over their fellow males who lived more in a concrete reality of "what-you-see-is-how-it-is." Quen'die felt her intuition was pretty keen when there was a jealousy or betrayal underneath the shining glow of a smile or an anger nestled within a laugh. This female in particular made no bother of such pretenses. Each and every time Quen'die saw Venn'lith at school, an unabashed glare of predatory scorn spread quite blatant across her face to the point that she felt like a gazelle in the sights of a hungry troglodyte on the savannahs of Gonduanna. She counted herself somewhat fortunate that her classmate's ill-intentions were so forthcoming, but now that she was going to be captured within the bowels of her palatial home for this entire evening, it seemed more like she was about to enter the belly of a bloated beast.

Up in the front seats, the Reylisses were checking the dashboard map to make sure they were on the right track. After winding down the bluffside roads where they lived, they found themselves heading toward the luxurious homes and mansions of the beachside neighborhoods where the Mitlans resided. Quen'die could tell that the property values of the residences were ever increasing in price as their coach pressed onward. The homes were getting larger and larger and their architectures were becoming more unique. Quen'die was quite fond of her lifelong home and frankly felt there was no place else worth arriving to at the end of the day, but her house looked very much like any of her neighbors', she had to admit. It didn't really matter to her after all. Who would want all that space to clean and such giant lawns to mow, she asked herself? That time could be better spent with good friends and even better - matches of runta.

"Father?" Quen'die called from the back seat.

"Uh, yes, Quen'die. What is it?" he answered while a bit preoccupied with the onboard map.

"I was speaking with Rylla the other night and she said that when they signify you to your coach, only you can unlock and drive it, but how is it that I can unlock our coach if I've never signified to it?"

"Well, that's because I added your name to the signature at the dealer's when I bought it. I did the same for Kaedish and your mother," he explained as he locked his destination onto the map. "As a matter-of-fact, you'll have to do the same honors for us when you get a coach of your very own."

At that, Lord Reyliss looked into the rearview mirror and winked a furtive eye at his daughter with the crooked smile of a secret agent. Quen'die's eyes widened like flawless emeralds and she broke into a beaming grin. She turned back without a word, smiling and gazed again at the rolling ocean which was now becoming a deeper purple as the loveliest of clear nights began to fall over the bay.

Once the age of sixteen, an elf was allowed by most provincial laws to own and operate a coach within the national borders of Atlantis, and coaches were a customary birthday present for an elf on this particular birthday. In the kingdoms of Atlantis, it was almost like a rite of passage. Quen'die had given it some thought as to what her sixteenth birthday could be like, considering it was coming up early next month, but seeing that hint in the rearview from Father wiped all other thoughts and concerns from her mind. She cared not about the dinner, evil Venn'lith, the uncomfortable formal gown which she was stuffed into; none of that mattered right at that moment. All she could imagine was what it would be like to have the freedom of zooming alongside the ocean that coming summer with all of her friends as they headed for the beach to go surfing with Captain Quen'die at the helm of the coach. The elfmaid didn't really care what kind of coach it could be. Even if it was a used community special from General Manaworks, like Rylla's, she would be so grateful to her parents and to herself. Deep down inside, Quen'die had felt a sense of entitlement for her grades, behavior and sportiveness and assumed that she had earned such a gift.

"I think this is the turnoff," Lady Reyliss announced while pointing to a wooded driveway that led to a small island in the bay which was connected by a short, gilded causeway. "Yeah, right here."

Lord Reyliss cut a bit sharp to the right as he almost all but missed the entrance which was hidden in part by giant larches. He ambled the coach with a sense of near-reverence across the causeway toward the Mitlan's courtyard gate.

It seemed their arrival was observed via hidden manamirrors because the moment their coach was within yards of the gates, they parted with a slow elegance to reveal the lavish Mitlan mansion. The entire Reyliss family had difficulty containing their awe at the exorbitant and obscene display of wealth before them.

"I never thought I would say this," Lady Reyliss began wide-eyed, "but I feel compelled to say, 'Whell, would'ja lookit thay-ut!'" she continued in an accent which mocked agrarian Atlantis' dialect. Everyone laughed at Mother's theatrics for which she was known from time-to-time.

"The kicker of it is, Mitlan probably doesn't owe a dime on it either," Father surmised as he took in the grand view and parked the coach on the guest's lot.

The Mitlan estate was a sight to behold. The courtyard contained coach houses as well as horse stables toward the back. The inner yard housed a grotto which contained many palm trees, as well as a myriad assortment of imported flora from Xo'chi. A small footbridge lit by ornate lanterns cut through the center of the grotto which was flanked on either side by a pond that spurted water at various intervals from a submerged fountain. Xochian parrots, macaws, and cockatoos of all breeds and sub-breeds sang, chirped and spat in the grotto's belly. Quen'die was a bit startled when a clutch of Kumarian blue dodos plodded as if doped toward the far bank of the pond. Despite their fluorescent hue, they were rather silly looking animals, she thought.

Quen'die was becoming a bit self-conscious again. She tugged with blushing effort at one of the two long braids that ran down her back and noticed how they were identical to her mother's style. It made her feel too young and a bit hackneyed to fashion her hair in a like-mother-like-daughter display. Well, at least they weren't wearing identical gowns, she considered. That would have been stupid.

Before Lord Reyliss could ring the doorbell to the circular mansion, the entire doorway was filled with the overpowering presence of Lord Mitlan. He towered over Father and appeared twice as wide; all of that bulk being muscle. His long, ebony hair fell at either sides of his chest and was separated with numerous braids banded with gold. His presence was quite the contrast to Father's shorter and wavy brown hair and slim build. Lord Mitlan's smile was as large as his stature. The lord might not be so bad after all, Quen'die thought as her resurfacing nerves subsided a bit. Quen'die could see that her mother was stunned at his presence and was in actuality holding her mouth open with joy. Father even seemed to belay his skittishness, which was becoming a rarity anymore. Off to his side, a small Tel'lemurian housewarden backed away into the bowels of the home without a word.

"Ha-HA! Ferd'inn!" the large sun elf boomed with a sincere friendliness. "I am so glad you could make our meeting tonight! There is so much to discuss, but first, let's make ourselves comfortable. Tonight, my home is yours!"

Lord Mitlan's warmest of welcomes could have provided a remarkable service to anyone who was feeling a case of the blues. How such an inviting person managed to become a senior financial warden was puzzling, considering how brutal and cutthroat that position could be. But as Quen'die very well knew, few smiles were without teeth.

After taking off their slippers, and making the greetings (Lord Mitlan kissed Mother's hand; a gesture she seemed quite taken by) the big elf announced, "I will give you the tour of my humble abode eventually, my friends, but for now, I am much too famished. Let's eat!"

The dining room was gigantic as far as the Reylisses opined. It was high-vaulted and ran along the curve of the home. Off to the left, floor-to-ceiling windows banked the whole room which displayed Corosa Bay as far as the eye would allow. The table curved with the slope of the room and was big enough to feed a full brigade. Fruits, mushrooms, nuts, and an assortment of vegetables were the night's offerings at the estate, but the center of the meal consisted of roasted ocelot with a giant orange nestled in its maw. With a strange play on homonyms, an ear of maize jutted out of each ear. The beast was curved with the room and the table and Quen'die noted that this was the second time this week she would eat meat. That settled with her just fine, but much to her fright, dinner was snarling at her. Regardless, this was quite the feast and that meant very big plans for Father tonight.

Ping, the housewarden whom they saw for the briefest instant in the shadows of the foyer was milling about the table and was at the ready to service the meeting. She smiled with a forced elegance and offered all of those present their seats. Quen'die didn't really know how to react, so she smiled with a politeness of equal contrivance and remained quiet in the opulence.

"Ah! There she is!" Lord Mitlan beamed. "My lovely daughter, Venn'lith. Fashionably late as always."

Quen'die just remembered what was making her nervous tonight and she was now in the room. Venn'lith entered with only the hissing sound of her gown and her father's intonations seemed to sound in slow-motion. She could feel the temperature of the warm home drop to mid-winter levels. The chill of this elfmaid's presence could be felt through the floor as it oozed into Quen'die's feet and rode up her spine. Although she loved her parents with all of her heart, she wished more than anything that Lauryl'la or Tam'laa had come along just so she could have the moral, peer-appropriate support. She no longer felt hungry.

Venn'lith's presence was just as commandeering as her father's. She was quite spectacular in the halls at school, but now that she was ensconced like a sapphire within her own element, she exuded a power and authority that Quen'die had never thought capable of a sixteen-year-old. The elfmaid wasn't very tall. Compared to Quen'die she was rather diminutive, but her muscular stature made up in spades for her literal shortcoming.

"Hello _Papi_!" the sun elf chirped while flashing her perfect teeth in a professionally-trained grin across the room at her audience until it stopped to a squeaking halt at Quen'die and died at a snail's pace. "I'm so sorry I'm late, but I was having trouble with this tiara."

Even at school, she would dress with impeccable flair, but tonight, she was wearing a gown that rivaled the Princess's in glamour and value. She was covered from head-to-toe in golds and ambers with hints of turquoise that were expert in helping to break up the warm hues. Her tiara fanned out from her scalp like the burst of the rising sun.

"Not a problem, Lith. Let's all take a seat, and just relax. Our chef made a wonderful feast and I cannot wait to devour it!" Lord Mitlan set the mood for the dinner while continuing with his jovial demeanor.

Quen'die smiled with a polite silence as she took her seat within eyeshot of the ocelot's head. She would much rather look at the angry carcass than the angry Venn'lith. For just a moment she closed her eyes hoping this would all go away and she would find herself back in her courtyard's ringball circle with Lauryl'la when she opened them. No such luck. The elfmaid found herself back at the feast with her unsaid rival seated directly across from her at the table. Venn'lith formed a crooked smile at her from her plump lips.

"Forgive me," the elder Mitlan announced. "Before we dig into this bounty, let's give thanks to our harvest god Ille'brann for this wonderful...heh, _bounty_!"

All present at the table bowed their heads as Lord Mitlan recited a prayer to the god of plenty but Quen'die could not hear it. Instead of listening to the Xochian's praise, she was praying her own plea in silence to any god available for other reasons:

"To any god who can hear me: Please, I implore you to make this visit short and sweet. Protect me in any and all ways from that freakish demon sitting across the table. I also pray for the best of fortunes for my father. Let it be so."

Throughout the meal, Quen'die could only take small jabs at her food and jumped at any opportunity to divert her gaze from Venn'lith whom she could feel staring at her without any shame. It didn't matter to her; she didn't really like meat anyway. Animal flesh made her tiny stomach too full too fast and she often found it greasy to the palate. With a flurry of nervous gestures, she pushed around some roasted maize, but had difficulty to even manage that.

All the adult elves began talking business now and again between courses. Quen'die could follow what they were speaking of, but she didn't want to draw Venn'lith's attention in any way, especially when engaging adults via intellectual discourse. In all honesty, Quen'die never pegged the sun elf as one to be intellectual. Then again, perhaps she was just as smart as she was athletic.

"Your efforts with the Martian expedition are going wonderfully, my friend," Mitlan complimented Father. "How you have managed this is no mystery to me because it takes mana to make it happen and that is what I work with - mana. I have just made a big acquisition with United Manaworks as well as from Fountain Universal out of eh... yes, Thuless'in. I do intend to corner the market for this project."

"That's amazing!" Father intoned. "Seriously fantastic! We at the Circle really do appreciate your voracious support. As you could see last night, the colonization of Mars is not exactly popular with everyone. Not only do you have loonies like the Black Hood Group trying to, well, kill the king, but there are even valid political opponents throughout the provinces right here in Atlantis that want the project quashed. I can't figure out why anyone in their right mind would want to stunt scientific progress. This is a whole new world and we are finally able to grasp it!"

"It too boggles my mind from your perspective as well as from a financial one," Father's Xochian contemporary agreed. "Literally thousands of years ago, during the Second Orc War, Mars was discovered accidentally by the great general Mars Bonn'fyr while he was peering at the heavens through his spyglass. We could not contain nor control mana back then, but ever since astronomers realized how close this planet was to our own, we have been fantasizing how to take it and hold it. Four short years ago we first landed on its soil. It would be idiocy to deny elfdom this chance at grasping a completely unpopulated world. Well, unpopulated as far as we know. You don't seriously believe any of that rubbish about the pyramids being of Martian origin, do you Ferd'inn?"

"No, of course not," Father answered with conviction as he chased a tomato slice on his plate with his fork. "I agree with our king and I think that the Thuless'in general is paranoid. He probably just wants to mobilize materiel for another invisible war against a barren planet! Sadly, if the right amounts of elves are stupid enough to believe that, he could get many supporters!"

"Even so, that could prove to be lucrative as well," Mother cut in with her expert sarcasm.

"That is true, Doctor Reyliss," the Xochian agreed with a wink. "War is always profitable, but the exploration and building of this world is much more bountiful than another brushfire rumble with one of our neighbors. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and it can't go to waste. We can _always_ have another war. We could even fight Mars once it gets established! Wouldn't that be fun!" he supposed with a joyous chuckle. "But first, we must establish it."

"Well, aren't you dipping your funds into military right now?" Mother challenged him with her own bravado.

"Ha! I love your guts, Glynna," Mitlan confided. "I would have nothing less at my table. Of course I invest in military and at a time such as this, I must admit that it has been enriching me. Nobody knows what the nature of our visitors is, or the conflict it may spark between all the nations of the earth. I do indeed consider this. Very good point."

"One problem I fret about with this new world is its lack of mana," Father said with a grim tone. "There just isn't any to be found that we have as-of-yet surveyed. How would we contain and maintain power up there? Mars has no manasprings, so there can be no manafountains and so on. I sincerely hope this doesn't turn out like the Moon, which was a total waste of time and money. There isn't either air or water up there. Mars at least has both of these resources, in weaker amounts, but we still will need mana or else life would be like ancient times up there and no one in their right mind would want to go. It would be yet another interplanetary failure and we could lose funding for any sort of extraterrestrial endeavors. That's what I worry about the most."

"As you well know," Mitlan began. "Mana is a difficult resource to gauge. We don't even know how much mana our own planet has because of its elusive nature. Why, we could nearly be out of it entirely by tomorrow! That is what makes it such a lucrative resource because it is completely speculative. We can really only guess how much is there arbitrarily. But with Mars, we not only regulate the flow of mana, but transport it as well. It would be a completely new industry!"

Quen'die wasn't too sure how this elf's ideas settled with her. She had never considered herself very political, not like say, On'dinn Jak'sin at school, but there seemed to be a nefarious side to this elder's thoughts, and that made her frown a bit. She hoped this venture wouldn't compromise Mother and Father's ideals. They were always such peaceful people who also were concerned about Kaedish's obsession with violence. Build-up Mars just to blow it up? Yes, he was correct, that could make someone rich, but such machinations could kill millions without need or purpose. Perhaps his little apple didn't fall far from the tree, the maiden supposed.

Speaking of which, the said apple continued to stare at her from across the table while she was chewing cat meat with slow, measured bites. Quen'die could only guess that the sun elf was imagining the ocelot was her flesh. Chilling.

After the main course was cleared, the housewarden set golden bowls of chocolate sauce in front of the party. A bright red cherry floated in the middle of the brown dessert. Only Mother had tasted the confection before. Quen'die too was quite surprised to have this experience tonight.

"Oh wow! Real Xochian chocolate!" Father cheered like a little elf on his birthday. "Finally!"

"I see you have never indulged, yes?" Lord Mitlan probed. "Be careful, it has a sting and is very rich to the uninitiated palate."

The elder Xochian was right about that. Quen'die felt a sharp bite hit the tip of her tongue, yet it felt deep and rich as it went down her throat. If chocolate was music, it would be a smooth bass line. The dessert's kiss to her brain was interrupted as she looked across the table at Venn'lith again. She was peering at Quen'die with menace while licking the chocolate off her top lip like it was blood. Quen'die's blood.

The adult elves decided to journey to the luxurious main hall where Lord Mitlan proposed a tour of the grand house now that the meal was over. Quen'die was praying in her mind again to the gods that the tour would be short, but it was a big house and, hence, such brevity would not be in the cards.

"Ah, Lith," Lord Mitlan called. "While we go about exploring this place, why don't you and Quen'die do some delving of your own?"

No. This was getting much worse than imagined. The elfmaid was hoping that she would be able to walk with her folks on the far side of Venn'lith, or perhaps not at all if her rival decided to retire from them for the evening, but to be stuck with her all alone? That was a terrible notion, she cringed. At that moment, she would much rather invade Mars.

"Oh! That's a wonderful idea!" Venn'lith beamed with a hint of vitriol in her voice. Quen'die knew that either the sun elf was displeased with the suggestion or she had some evil idea of her own. Neither could be good.

"Excellent," the Xochian elder said with a blunt stomp. "You two be off while I give our guests the tour." With that, the party of adults disappeared into the depths of the estate. Quen'die had never felt so alone in her life.

"Come along, _Quen'die_!" Venn'lith intoned with dripping sarcasm. Perhaps that was just a voice she had developed over the years and Quen'die would have nothing to worry about.

The pair headed off in the opposite direction as the adults. Quen'die held back a little bit, but Venn'lith chimed in her thick Xochian accent, "Please, don't be shy. Let's make our way to the games' room."

All of the entertainment and games Quen'die had in her house were in the living room save for the runta table in her basement. Right then, the grey elf wanted nothing more than to be there instead. She would have even settled being locked in their cramped utility room sweating out the heat of the manafountain.

"Well, here we are!" Venn'lith announced after a short, but silent journey through the winding halls. Quen'die really didn't know how to even begin a nervous conversation with the maiden. Venn'lith's silence hadn't broken before entering the room either.

The games' room was quite a sight. Being nestled within the middle of the house, it was designed in a perfect circle instead of semi-curved. Manascreens banked the walls and hugged to their slopes as miniature runta and adult gambling tables of very high quality woods were interspersed among the lounge seating. In the center of the room, lying in the sunken floor was a giant orbital manascreen. The crystal ball which was cast to perfection had to be over fifteen feet high and was ensconced in a thick mahogany ring that was glowing from its activation runes. Kaedish would have loved to have this model in their home. He could play _Martian Patriot IV_ in three dimensions with opponents of life size.

"Wow!" Quen'die said, genuinely impressed. She even forgot her nervousness for that moment in the blue ambience of the room. "This is really some setup! Do you ever hold parties here?"

"Mostly Father does, however, I really would like to throw some of my own. It would go great with the pool we have out back," she answered. "I would love to have you at one if I do."

This shocked the young grey elf. Perhaps she formed the wrong impression of her. Perhaps her icy looks were nothing more than a cultural difference that Quen'die wasn't quite used to. Atlanteans had always been considered a very reserved people and Quen'die admonished herself in that instant for being insensitive to foreign culture. After all, it was a big world and with time and experience, she hoped to satisfy the goal of getting to know it better.

"Speaking of parties," Quen'die began as her nerves were warming into a friendlier mode. "Will you be coming to the pool party at Sig'ryn's tomorrow night?"

"Absolutely," Venn'lith answered. "So many people have invited me already that it is difficult to keep track of. That can be such an annoyance"

"Yeah, definitely. I know how that is," Quen'die agreed with a half-truth. Sure, only Lauryl'la had invited her, but Tam'laa was happy to learn that she would be coming as well when she had mailed her the news. But most of all, Hyrax Arcovis's ears blushed. That was equal to one hundred invites on her manaphone.

"Right...,"Venn'lith responded to that with some disbelief. "So, you know it has an 'ancient Atlantis' theme to it, yes?"

"Oh, yeah, I do. All ready for it!" she answered. "I even have the bikini too."

This was a complete lie. She didn't want to tell this clothes-horse that she would have to borrow her attire from Lauryl'la. She had already felt like a street urchin from the depths of Corosa with her modest braids while her hostess was bedecked in the highest of Xochian fashion.

"Well, that's excellent, Dee. I may call you 'Dee,' yes?" Venn'lith asked in a congenial manner.

"Oh...yeah, you can call me 'Dee.'" Quen'die was rather surprised that Venn'lith wanted to address her in the informal already. This made the maiden feel even better in such a way that her appetite was returning and she regretted not having more at the dinner, even if it was greasy cat meat.

"Fine," Venn'lith answered to that. "By the way, I personally know the MC of The Gonduanna Princes. I can always introduce you to him, if you want."

"Uh, yeah! That would be great!" she said. Even though her apprehensions about the Xochian were settling, she still felt so small. After all, this elfmaid claimed to personally know the MC of a pop group that was renowned world-wide. Some of it could have been self-aggrandizement, she supposed.

"See, I have one of his messages in my inbox," Venn'lith lifted her phone's luminous screen to Quen'die's face. The grey elf couldn't believe it, but her classmate's rumor rang true.

The two walked through more of the home's winding halls. Quen'die's eyes were treated to opulent furs and rugs skinned from various species of great cats from all over Xo'chi draping at various intervals on the walls. Billowing feathers from exotic birds of which Quen'die had only seen in zoos or on the manascreen, burst from what seemed like every corner of sun elf's house. Even the servants' quarters were very chic, if not a little small. The elfmaid most enjoyed the strange hall which housed the mana-embalmed dolphin. Its blue glow appeared to create another world for her, yet its carcass was a bit unnerving, but that was what art was supposed to do, she reflected. Make you feel something, and not always warm and cozy.

"You have a really amazing home, Lith," Quen'die complimented her young hostess with sincerity. "Would it be cool if we saw your room?"

"Oh, no... I'm sorry, scum," Venn'lith began. "You see, that room is reserved only for Hyrax Arcovis."

Before Quen'die could process the fact that someone had just called her a "scum," her back was rammed with a powerful force against the hallway's wall. In one swift movement, Venn'lith had covered her victim's mouth and thrust a rock-hard knee into her gut. Tears of shock and pain flew out of the grey elfmaid's green eyes and dribbled over her attacker's hand. Quen'die could not breathe but a trickle of air, yet still smelled the sun elf as her angry exertions made her stink of burning vanilla. Venn'lith's trademark aloof gaze had transformed in an instant into a squaline rictus of muscle and hate.

"You will never speak to Hyrax Arcovis," the Xochian teen made a low growl through gnashed teeth. "You will only answer to him when he commands you on the runta field. Since I will be on the team next year, it would behoove you to not rejoin. No matter how hard you play, I will still knock you from your championship status. You are nothing but a stupid little elfling. If you ever say one word of this to _anyone_ , my father will see to it that your whole family is living in a slum by Wintersfest. Do you understand me, Little Elfling?"

This made Quen'die cry even harder, but she could not utter even a slight sound over the sun elf's iron grip covering her lips. She felt sick as she had little air in her lungs from the strike to her stomach. So much fear for herself, her family and her entire adept's school career raced through her head upon hearing Venn'lith's bestial demands.

"You had an unfortunate scrape with one of the palm trees," the evil maiden continued as she sliced a razor-sharp golden fingernail down Quen'die's left cheek. The elfmaid squealed in pain at her attacker's foul gesture. Venn'lith put the finger in her mouth and devoured Quen'die's blood without breaking her terrible glare.

From down the hall, the two heard a gasp. Quen'die thought she was saved and that this horrible nightmare would end. It was the little Tel'lemurian housewarden.

"Fetch a manapatch, Ping!" Venn'lith barked with rage to her servant. "Our guest was scratched by a palm tree. Isn't that right, Ping?"

"As you command, Mistress Venn'lith," the sea elf bowed with her usual obedience as she disappeared to do her duty.

_Twelve gods in the heavens, and not one of them heard me,_ was a famous elven saying when lamenting bad luck. Every word of it rang true, Quen'die gritted. She so terribly wanted Lauryl'la and Tam'laa or any one of her runta teammates there at that moment to get this horrible she-beast off of her so she could not only expose her evil plans, but give her a taste of her own painful medicine. To Quen'die's dismay, only Ping bore witness and the warden needed that job, so it seemed, too much to rectify the situation. Quen'die wished she had stayed in bed.

"Follow Ping into the bathroom and meet us in the main hall, then I can be rid of your stink after your foolish parents take you home," Venn'lith commanded Quen'die.

Quen'die ran as fast as she could toward Ping's direction. The pretty young Tel'lemurian applied the soothing patch on her scratch. It worked fast and she could feel it healing within seconds. Despite the cool of the manasalve, Quen'die was bawling from so many sensations that she wanted to vomit into the bathroom's gold-rimmed toilet. She felt so relieved to be out of that monster's presence, but she knew her control would remain long after she left. "This is where my whole life will change and probably for the worse," she thought aloud as Ping tried to quiet her by making cooing noises.

"I hate her..." Quen'die managed though sobs.

"Yes, my dear. I do too," the servant confided in a hushed voice.

Once back into the main hall, Quen'die was more grateful to see her parents than ever, but due to Venn'lith's disgusting ultimatum, they had never seemed so far away. They had never seemed so weak and powerless. For the first time in her life, her parents looked so small, like children themselves. This made her burst out into a fit of sobs. Quen'die was thankful; the vile elfmaid was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, my dear maiden!" Lord Mitlan boomed with an honest concern. "Lith just told us all about your run-in with the palm tree. I am so sorry about that. I really should have the housewardens replace those horrible things. But don't worry; the patch should heal you well by tomorrow morning."

"Darling! It's only a scratch!" Mother admonished with a one-note laugh. Quen'die felt even worse as though she had not one ally on the face of the earth. Her mother should have known that she wasn't one for needless dramatics. Why could she not see that something was terribly wrong?

"Eh, yes, Doctor Reyliss," the Xochian elder began in apology. "Some of these specimens of palm trees can create strange effects on the mind if they break the skin, I must admit. Xochians have been extracting their juices for various purposes for centuries. She will be fine after a good night's sleep, you have my guarantee."

Quen'die stood in the middle of her parents in wide-eyed shock. She had never felt so alone. Everything was going according to Venn'lith's plans. No one would believe her and even if they did, the wicked maiden could destroy her family, as well as elfdom's shot at colonizing Mars. What horrible power.

"Come on, bunny," her father said while taking her by her slim shoulders. "Let's go home and you can rest this off. You just need some sleep." His touch still felt warming despite feeling a million miles away.

Father's attempt to console her, upon thinking about it made her feel like an elfling, just as Venn'lith had accused. As a matter-of-fact, she _had_ wished she were an elfling again so she would not have to be locked into such a revolting situation. Infants never had to deal with these kinds of events. They could roll around in their cribs all day and play with mobiles or something silly like that. Quen'die wanted out of that den of malice and she wanted out of there as fast as possible. The walls of the grand hall seemed to spin.

After some quick thank-you's and goodbyes to their host, Quen'die got her wish and was back within the safe and familiar confines of her family's coach. All of the joys she had felt earlier of the possibility of receiving her own coach for her birthday the next month meant nothing to her. What good was freedom when you were really nothing but a remote-controlled slave to a spoiled brat? The grey elfmaid lay down in the back seat and cried to herself in the darkness as her parents made their way home.

"Quen'die, are you feeling any better?" Mother asked her from the front of the cab.

"I'll be fine, Mother. I just need to sleep. It's like Lord Mitlan said about the palm juice and stuff," Quen'die tried to brush her concerns off. Mother could not help anymore. She needed to deal with this problem on her own. There had to be _someone_ she could confide in. Under normal circumstances, she could handle all of her own problems without much of a challenge. To be honest, before that terrible night, Quen'die had considered many of her trials easy to the point of being a bit boring. That night, one Venn'lith Mitlan changed all of that and she knew that she would have to figure out a way from her clutches beginning tomorrow. Somehow.

"You know something?" Father announced to his wife after some time driving along the bluffside roads in silence. "I don't really think I like chocolate all that much." Quen'die knew he was trying to make light of the situation with her sliced face. After all, he must have been feeling the good spirits about the deal he had cut with the financial warden and she shouldn't be so selfish as to think her little scratch would be a top priority.

"Yeah, the notion rarely matches the reality," Mother responded in an absentminded tone as she gazed out the window at the lights of the beautiful mansions off the roads below them.

When the Reyliss family arrived home, it was rather late and Quen'die wanted nothing more than to pass out in her comfortable bed. Kaedish had fallen asleep much to her relief as the last thing she wanted him to know was the fact that her face was red with tears and half-covered in a manapatch. All that would succeed in doing was rousting him about all night with more of the gory questions he loved to ask so much. Despondency was a strong enough emotion for one day, and she didn't need to have annoyance added to it.

Her bedroom seemed more like a hotel room. She could not recognize it as her own. It felt like she hadn't been in it for years and her usual sanctuary had, at that point, seemed downright alien. She couldn't bear to turn on the lights and experience that dissonant feeling even more. Either way, a plush bed was in front of her and she felt compelled to sink into it. She jumped out of the dressy gown and let it remain rumpled on the floor as she flung her lithe body onto the covers. The duvet was like a surrogate parent for her and she wrapped herself into it for some sort of security like a vise. The bulk of her covers and blankets were a poor substitute for the warmth and solace that she sought from her parents, but was not allowed to do so at the risk of endangering her family.

As exhausted as she was, sleep was not as quick as she had expected. So many thoughts and worries rushed through her mind, but they made no sense as she realized she was in a panic. Her family, their financial situation, tomorrow's party, Hyrax Arcovis, the runta team, her friends, school returning to session the next week, that foul elfmaid who may from now on control her life, those stupid pyramids, and the planet Mars. She needed to get back into a better perspective.

Quen'die pulled the heaviest of the covers over her crimson hair and began sobbing again as she prayed to the same pantheon of gods who had cared not to hear her earlier that night. Maybe this time at least one of them was listening because if there was one thing she needed right then, it was help.

At some point, she dozed off during her prayer to She'vashh, the god of fire and vengeance. If any one of them could show her some assistance, it would be him. As she slept, she was treated to a dream about a beautiful day as she walked alongside a stream. The weather was remarkable.
When I Stepped Out Into the Bright Sunlight from the Darkness

**W** hy On'dinn Jak'sin awoke in a barn with a dead lamb boggled his mind. He knew for certain he was either in grave danger or trouble, but he couldn't remember why beyond vague flashes of imagery in his head. Minn'dre was no longer with him but he knew that she was by his side before he fell unconscious. Whoever had done this to him left his satchel and tablet nearby and none of his belongings appeared to be molested, although it seemed that something was missing. Upon reading the glow of his tablet's newsscrolls, he recalled in an instant the nature of his perils and why he was one of the bad guys.

Oddly enough, he could find neither hide nor hair of his name in any of the scrolling feeds of information. Travius and even Sammian were the subjects of debate, interview and ridicule, but neither he nor even Minn'dre was mentioned. He remembered with total clarity being arrested and being released by that mysterious Sammian person. The entire operation was illegal.

It was her. She was the one who brought him to the barn, or rather dumped him there. He hoped beyond hope that Minn'dre didn't share the same fate as that lamb. The little beast died from violent means as far as On'dinn could tell, as its body looked as if it had been thrown in all directions by a natha and broken. It happened some time ago, he figured, since all the blood around its mouth had been dried black.

Death was a topic that On'dinn sometimes had felt an affinity with ever since his mother died when he was much younger. He even went through a period of wearing all black from head to toe and devoured whatever type of moribund media he could find. One thing the manascreen could never get right was how fake something looked once it passed on. Perhaps the production companies didn't want death to look too fake to their audiences, even though real death looked genuinely phony. Before his mother's pyre was lit, he remembered how wooden she had appeared and his young mind prayed that what he saw in the fire was just a dummy and that she was alive and well in the tropics somewhere and would come back for him one day. This lamb looked just as wooden; like a grotesque toy. The spirit is what makes one truly alive, On'dinn decided. Once that is taken out of any living thing, it reverts to nothing more than a dull wooden husk.

According to the newsscroll, it was early Feastday evening when he awoke and he figured that he must have been knocked unconscious for the bulk of a full day. It was becoming dark outside as the dusk was approaching not long after he came to. Sammian had taken them quite some ways from the Royal Arena as the compass on his tablet reported. He did not remember her driving a coach of any sort, but the distance from his last memory would have required some type of vehicular travel. He was miles away from anywhere he knew and couldn't guess as to how he would get back to the city.

He had to find Minn'dre. She was without a doubt in trouble, but since she was removed from her place of abduction, On'dinn surmised that Sammian wanted her alive. It was no surprise to him, his manaphone was missing from his satchel nor could he find it in any of his pockets. This was Sammian's sick tactic to keep him from contacting her, he deduced, but he could still write to his friend from his tablet.

From: Basil

To: Nightbloom

It's me. I'm alive and for some reason I'm in a barn with a dead lamb. I can't figure out how I got here but it's getting dark already. I was knocked out for a long time according to my tablet's clock. We could still be in trouble, so wherever you are, please keep a low profile. Odd thing is, we aren't mentioned on the news. Once I figure out a way back to the city, I'll try to find you, but as you can probably guess, I can't go to the civil wardens (duh). I hope that you are Okay. I can't call you either because SHE took my phone.

Hang in there, Minnie. I _will_ find you.

And Sammian: I'M GOING TO GET YOU!!!

That last line may not have been a great idea, but as he had already sent it through the manaflow, it was much too late for regrets. Knowing what he knew of Sammian, it would only give her a good laugh. That or she would just ignore it, but either way, he knew very well that the fiend would intercept the mail. It made no difference, she wasn't going to hurt Minn'dre and he was savvy enough to know that. She needed her. For how long and for what, he had no clue.

She had really knocked him out hard. His full memory had returned within a short time, but the pain still throbbed and spiked every now and again throughout his head and neck. Checking his satchel, he found no pain relievers or any such medicine. The only aid he could find for any of his ails was a rusty water pipe at the back of the small barn as he was parched and needed hydration and had to wash off the smell of the garbage and detainment trailer; that was his top priority. The water tasted ferrous and earthen, but it was still fresh and he didn't care otherwise. He was out in the country without a doubt, and far away from any urban treatment system.

There would be no possibility of chancing the dark of the country roads on foot all alone. Although the newsscrolls made no mention of him or him being wanted by the authorities, he still didn't want to risk being detained on a trespassing or vagrancy charge as he wandered the rural gloom. He would have to hide in this derelict structure all night and that suited him just fine as he only wanted to fall back asleep until the pulsing ache in his head subsided.

Up in the loft, On'dinn snuggled into some old hay and even found a horse blanket that smelled like dust. He figured he was lucky as it could have been a much worse odor. As he closed his eyes, he could feel the pitch darkness wash over his lids as there was no illumination at all in the barn. It had never seemed so dark in his life and he felt like he was a troglodyte huddling in a cave.

Sleep had fallen upon him the very instant he shut his eyes and he dreamed about Sammian. He may have dreamt about her while he was unconscious the night before, but that was a different kind of slumber of which he could remember nothing. No matter how much his mind tried to focus on her face, he could not manage to make any details. She just seemed to blur in form and color and in such a vague manner that she sometimes failed to appear elven. She would become something unlike he had ever known. As the dreams of the strange lady phased in and out of his consciousness, he was awoken twelve hours later by a startling nightmare featuring the bleeding dead lamb. It claimed his mother was with it now and that she was happy. He awoke screaming all alone in a barn on Saturnalia morning.

Outside the barn, the young elf could see about a dozen or so farm hands working in the fields. Amongst the workers, giant stone golems were pulling tills behind them. He needed to figure out a way to slip off the property and find some method of getting back to civilization. The last thing he wanted to do was spend another night in that stinking hovel which would become even more rank as the lamb continued to decompose.

Nobody could be seen as he peered out from the back of the barn. If he could run into the copse of trees behind the farmer's property line, he surmised, he should be able to skirt away without anyone being the wiser. The ladder leading to the ground was a bit rickety and he needed to shimmy over to it to board it, and his usual clumsiness did not plague him that morning.

After wandering through the small expanse of forest in the back of the property, he made it out to a dirt road. It was rather wide and many large coachliners were buzzing about hauling their wares to and fro. The elf even saw a couple of coaches that were burdened with furniture and luggage puttering toward the city. Perhaps they were ex-refugees who reasoned that it was pointless to run anywhere by then and decided to return home.

By mid-morning, On'dinn was still trudging along the berm of the country road as coaches zipped past. A couple of rural wardens buzzed by, but ignored him, and he was grateful for that. Hitchhiking back to civilization was a bad idea because he remained worried about being recognized. As he continued to journey, he read the indicator on his tablet which claimed he was on the correct course toward Corosa City.

Newsfeeds would update in a constant scroll for any developments in the region. Travius was to be put on trial before a high circle of counsel for the attempted assassination of the king. The prosecution wanted capital punishment for him and him alone. Already, some of the other members of the Black Hood had been released in a just manner as they were cleared of possessing any ideation to do the little regent harm. He could see that the kind elderly couple who went by the names "Poplar" and "Germander" was amongst the freed. That made him feel a sense of justice had been working for the best as there was no way that those two sweet people would ever in a million years consider harming an animal much less a little elfling.

Despite the reliable updates to the news, what puzzled the young elf was the lack of information in regards to him. After all, he and Minn'dre were the ones that got away. They had, to be sure, all their vital statistics on record once they put them under the biomana. Not even his father or Minn'dre's parents had been interviewed. This caused him much reason to fret as he recalled the stupefied state of the wardens at the time Sammian released them. What did that freak do to them and how did she manage it, he wondered? It was possible that she worked with the wardens from the inside, but why would she liberate him and Minn'dre only? Maybe he was just lucky enough to be at the right place at the right time. Such an explanation could be as simple as that, but On'dinn knew that his luck was one of either extreme fortune or terrible calamity. Either way, there was almost always a catch as nothing was free.

Going back home seemed a logical destination since the tablet's news evidenced no dragnet out for him. But what could he get done from there? All that would do is waste time as he would have to argue for hours with his father about where he had been for the past few days unless the elf was so dead drunk on wine and mead that he would be in no shape to row with him. It was a sad possibility the old lord didn't even know he was gone or cared if he did. Perhaps he could find some better information at the Sea and Shell where there was always some good gossip and sometimes actual useful info to be found.

When the young elf heard the whoops and hollers approaching from behind him at a cheetah's pace, his eyes widened with terror. The voices seemed to hold so much spite to them that he feared that he was about to have a repeat of the beating Hyrax and company gave him the other day. After Sammian had knocked him out for a whole day, the last thing he wanted was to sustain even more physical damage. He promised himself that he would train himself to become buff if he were allowed to pass through this event unscathed.

A bright white utility coach with its top down sped past him and pulled over to the side of the road, kicking up the country dust under its bed of mana. On'dinn knew that this was yet another unfortunate event in the making and he prayed that some warden would drive past before any of these would-be aggressors kicked a hairball out of him.

"On'dinn Jak'sin!" a young male voice hollered. There was no malevolence to his catcall, but surprised joy. They knew him and were happy to see him. On'dinn squinted his eyes to adjust to the midmorning sun and saw elves with the deepest of tans who were packed like sardines in the vehicle. This was a time of great fortune, the young lad supposed. It was the Zobbos and it looked like a free ride.

They backed up the coach with a reckless speed and almost bowled him over, but it wasn't out of any malice. Monti "The Face" Dell'lavio was always something of a daring guy and he did almost everything to the extreme if he had an audience.

"Yo, On'dinn!" the elf called down from the driver's side. "What in the Nine Hells are you doing out in the sticks on foot?"

"Hey, Monti," On'dinn raised a weary, but relieved hand in greeting. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"All right. You don't tell, I won't ask." The other elves in the cab were staring down at On'dinn like he was an unidentified trudging lifeform. Ay'linn "Princess" Dell'vannio flashed On'dinn a shy wave and batted her heavily-decorated eyelashes at him from the back seat of the cab.

On'dinn could always rely on the Zobbos. They were a subculture of youths from the working class warehouse district down by the docks of Corosa. By no means were they his intellectual contemporaries, but he gained their respect as he would often stick up for them when the elitist clique would attempt to ridicule the group. They also respected his intelligence and On'dinn even profited by offering his services to them by doing their homework. The females of the group all harbored secret crushes on him but they would approach him with an almost shamanistic reverence as they couldn't figure out what to make of him. Each and every one of this crew carried a nickname and On'dinn was quite flattered when Monti decided to honorarily dub him "Brain."

"Yeah, we were spending last night out at the quarries," Monti gestured behind his shoulder with his thumb to indicate his point of departure. "I tell you, you gotta go try it sometime. I'm not a big fan of nature or camping and stuff, but jumping off those rocks is such an adrenaline rush."

"I've had all I can take of adrenaline for the past three days, Face," On'dinn stated with his usual wry wit.

"Heh, so I smell. Seriously, what were you doing out here? Dancing a boogaloo in the barnyard?" The entire cab erupted into laughter, not so much at On'dinn, but with him. All the Zobbos congratulated Face's crude humor with high-fives.

"If you give me a ride back to the city, I'll tell you all about it. Well, most of it. If I told you everything, I'd have to kill you." On'dinn continued with his sarcastic banter which only worked the Zobbos up even more.

"Ha! All right! Super-spy stuff," Face cheered. "I can always count on you for some entertainment, Brain."

On'dinn managed to tell the Zobbos about his run-in with Hyrax. He made sure to embellish what little heroics he had performed that day and downplayed his beating. The incident with the dumpster he all but omitted, especially since he didn't want to disparage himself in front of the females. Face was not amused and treated everyone in the coach to a detailed and rather surreal daydream involving an egg beater about what he would do to Hyrax Arcovis and his cronies when he next saw them. On'dinn could only smile. He was never a fan of violence, but it was nice to know that someone considered his support because he figured he needed that more than ever. As for the drama at the arena, On'dinn made little mention of it. Since Sammian's name was all over the news, there was no way he would admit personal association with her, even to his saviors. He only managed to focus his story on Hyrax and his goons.

After what seemed, much to On'dinn's surprise, a short drive though the countryside, the utility coach was met with the grand Gates of Corosa. Giant statues of the city's forefathers flanked either side of the structure as the four-lane highway fed itself into the city's innards. To the first-time visitor of the city-state, it was quite a spectacle of time-honored elven architecture. At the top of the gate's archway, two immense statues of dolphins crossed each other in a triumphant leap skyward. Underneath the delphine sculptures, a large sun disk displayed the motto, " _All Roads Meet at Corosa_." On'dinn observed how getting back home always seemed to be quicker than leaving it.

The Zobbos' headquarters was Face's house. The very modest structure was a stilted home that lurched over the waters of Corosa Bay. It was an old and leaky model, and was not much more than a sea shanty to some, but it was Face's lifelong home and he and the Zobbos were proud of it as if it were a valiant knight's lodge. There was always something happening there at all hours of the day and night. If it wasn't a party, it was a dockworker's union meeting. If it wasn't either of those, it was a seaside wedding for what seemed to be one of the endless streams of Face's relatives. No matter the event, a good time was sure to be had by all and On'dinn wondered how any resident to his address ever got a wink of sleep. He supposed one just got used to it.

Monti's folks were dockworkers who had been killed a few years ago in one of Corosa's rare, but violent hurricanes. His parents had been assigned to the ill-fated garbage barge the _El'drann Ged'drann_ which was sunk in the turbulent waters of the Bay as it tried to dock at one of its numerous jetties. The hull of the boat was pierced by the jetty in its rushed maneuver to bob for safety, thus sinking the craft as all twenty-nine of its crew had been drowned in the icy late-autumn waters. A ballad detailing the tragedy was written by the renowned Avalonian bard God'runn Lit'fynn and had become very popular much to the surprise of the media. Ever since, Monti's eldest brother Rob'yss ran the hectic house as best as he could on his humble dockworker's salary.

The usual hubbub of the house was in full swing by the time everyone filed in. Rob'yss was already in his reinforced raincloak and had a stocky foot out the door as they arrived. He held a wicked-looking pole hook in his hands.

"Monti!" he hollered without greeting. "Before you run off to whatever party you have planned for tonight, I need this place looking like it isn't fit to be condemned." His brother was agitated without a doubt at the state of the house, although, more than likely, he too was a great contributor to the mess. While his younger siblings were out at the quarries, Rob'yss hosted a soiree of his own as was evidenced by all the wine and mead bottles stacked into a pyramid on their front room's coffee table. A female's party gown was draped across their family's manascreen. On'dinn only dared to guess what kind of gathering took place last night.

"Yeah, but Rob, I wasn't even...," his younger brother began to protest.

"Yeah, but nothing," Rob'yss quashed without missing a beat. "While you were out all night jumping into a hole in the ground, you missed a great party and now I have to make some money or you don't eat. That goes for you too, big guy." The elder Dell'lavio pointed to Li'rat, another one of Monti's older siblings.

Li'rat was indeed a big guy as Rob'yss accused. He was so big that his official Zobbo nickname was "Warehouse." On'dinn had to squeeze into the coach on the way home mostly because he was amongst their passengers and took up almost the entire back seat of the vehicle.

"Speaking of which," the eldest Dell'lavio continued to the giant elf. "You have that interview I lined up for you on Moonday, so I want you there and ready. There's no way I'm going to let the foreman think I'm a flake if you no-show. I'm putting my neck out on the line for an elf who just might be as strong as a golem."

"Yeah!" Warehouse boomed in the deepest of baritones. As he was one for few words, such utterances were about all he made, but he was one of Monti's family and a valued Zobbo who defused in a flash the many scraps that his younger brother would sometimes ignite.

"All right. I'm outta here," Rob'yss announced. "Any of you gonna be home when my shift's over?"

"Who knows?" Face informed. "There's a big bash going on at this foreign kid's house tonight and we were thinking of dropping by to pay some Zobbo-style respects. Everybody's going to be there, so we pretty much _have_ to show up."

"Well, whatever," the agitated dockworker said. "Just don't get arrested. If any of you Zobbos wind up in the dungeons tonight, I can't afford to bail you out." With that, Rob'yss slammed the rickety door to the little house and made his way off.

"Hey, so I forgot to tell you," Monti beckoned On'dinn. "Tonight over at that, eh, what's his name, Sig'ryn God'runn's place, there's going to be a big end-of-the-school-year party. Everybody's gonna be there. You wanna come with? I heard that place is so capital!"

"Yeah, he's totally rich too," Sinti "Pumpkin" Dell'lavio chimed in.

Pumpkin was Face's twin sister. She possessed a hot head and was as impulsive as her male counterpart. Although Face would instigate many brawls in their time, Pumpkin was, by and large, the cause of the scrapes. Her ability to provoke, especially females, was legendary and despite her small stature, her mouth made up for this shortcoming. Between her and Face, a night out with the Zobbos was guaranteed adventure; for better or worse.

On'dinn had nothing to do at all except search for the maiden whom he held an immense secret crush for who just so happened to be kidnapped the other night by a mysterious lady who knocked him into a twelve-hour coma and, more than likely, killed a farm animal for reasons unknown. Since going home would be a depressing act of pointless futility and the Black Hood HQ would be crawling with agents foreign and domestic, going to a party sounded like it could be the perfect prescription for his woes. It was assured that Hyrax Arcovis would be amongst the attendees if this engagement were as grand as rumored, but that didn't matter to On'dinn as he would be ensconced within the Zobbo's entourage.

"Sure! Sounds like a plan!" On'dinn chirped.

Princess was hoping to be a hairdresser one day and On'dinn took advantage of her skills. He still wasn't convinced in total that the civil wardens, or maybe even the Atlantean Defense Forces, weren't looking for him and he needed a drastic modification to his appearance. The party had an ancient theme to it, and he reasoned that he could seize this opportunity to change his look.

She had the biggest crush on him of any of the females of the Zobbo crew as far as he could guess. Ay'linn was not the greatest student and she hired On'dinn's intellectual services more often than any of the gang. On'dinn surmised that she was just taking advantage of his skills in order to be closer to him. He thought that was sort of a cute gesture and she was not hard on the eyes either. Despite her charming advances and beauty, the young male felt that he could not relate to her on the level with which he did Minn'dre.

Long blond locks and braids fell to the Dell'lavio's bathroom floor in a swirling lump. He could feel the weight of years of growth falling off his shoulders and chest as Princess whacked away at his head. When he looked into the mirror, he thought that his face looked alien without the braids framing it. It was much shorter than ever before and quite the radical change as it hugged the sides of his scalp and forehead. It looked like the cut of a genuine ancient Atlantean emperor or politician. After that, she dyed what was left of his mane jet-black; much like the rest of the Zobbos seemed to always color theirs. When Minn'dre next saw him, she would not be able to recognize him at all. He hoped that she liked it, and he was going to make sure that she _would_ see him again.

"Hail Bonn'fyr!" Andrex "Cheatsheet" Po'renzy, another of the Zobbo entourage present that day, made a mock salute in honor of the discoverer of Mars to On'dinn. "You seriously look like an ancient war hero with that 'do, Brain. I don't know how you're gonna pull that off in public, but who knows? Maybe you'll kick-start a new trend."

"Well, I think it looks great and I like guys that have the spine to go out on a limb and do something different." Princess was running her hands through On'dinn's scalp as she declared this, causing the young elf to blush.

It was true, On'dinn's hair had altered his look to a significant degree, but it would also make him stick out like a sore thumb in many instances. Hair this short was just not worn by males anymore and had not been for a few hundred years. Considering that the modern elf lived to around one hundred fifty years, the skullcap look died out with his great-great-great grandfather. The new hairdo made his ears stick out like never before and he was amazed at how large they appeared without his usual locks falling around them.

"Gods! Why didn't someone ever tell me my ears were this big?" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, they look like a civil warden's helmet!" Andrex jeered. "We should stop calling you 'Brain' and switch to 'Ears!'" With that, the crew laughed with On'dinn at the friendly crack.

Cheatsheet was the runt of the Zobbos. As he was just shy of 6'1," he was even dwarfed by many of the females in his class, but, like all the Zobbos, he was concerned to an obsessive care about his physique and he made sure to work out with extra vigor to offset his stunted height, thus giving him a squat appearance. If Monti was the face, then Cheatsheet was the mouth. This mouth of his had been famous for provoking as well as for defusing a bad situation. He was as provocative as Pumpkin when it came to starting something. The females at school favored him more than any of the Zobbos despite his small stature because he exuded bravery, confidence and raw attitude. It was like he was born without the sensation of fear and, as such, if he saw something he liked, he went for it. He was best friends with Warehouse and seeing the pair together was a bit comical as Warehouse stood at a whopping 7'7."

"We have to get you into some ancient gear for this," Monti announced to On'dinn. "We better do this on the double too, because I want to get there early. Scope out the territory and stuff. Besides, Cheatsheet wants a good spot at the sunwheel game. It'll be bad enough that we have to wait for Pumpkin and Princess all day long. Those two females can take hours to get ready, as you can imagine."

It was not too difficult for On'dinn to find some fabric to fashion ancient-looking clothes as couture from that time period was simple compared to the complexity of the cut-tunics, cloaks and robes of the modern age. He was draped in nothing much more than a gunny sack with armholes and a rope belt, but playing the role of the peasant tonight was much preferable to wearing the same smelly duds for the third day in a row.

Although Monti called for quick preparations, as he had predicted, the females took what seemed an immeasurable time getting ready. Pumpkin was always losing something of utmost importance to her person and Princess just couldn't seem to make simple fashion decisions.

"If I wear shells for the bikini, it won't historically go with the gown! Real princesses were never caught dead in shells back then. I better wear the coral-cut," she fussed from the bedroom.

"What do you know about any of that?" Cheatsheet challenged from the front room. "You flunked history class! Hurry up, will ya!"

The afternoon of lounging in their front room was drawing on and On'dinn was becoming impatient. So many thoughts ran through his mind now that he was idle and had time to think. Where was Minn'dre? Was his father all right? The party was an even bigger cause of concern because he worried that perhaps some of the revelers had seen him attached to the Black Hood during the Royal Address. What would they do when they saw him walking as a free man? Of course, Hyrax and his cronies were sure to be at this shindig. Like the Zobbos, his clique was never absent from a social gathering. Even though he, for the most part, had the protection from a repeat of the other day from happening again, he still abhorred violence and hoped that the Zobbos wouldn't get out of hand with their fists if it came down to that. Throughout the hectic bickering and shuffling about the Dell'lavio residence, Warehouse remained silent as a stone, as per usual.

On'dinn and the Zobbos once again packed into the utility coach and sped through the seaside roads toward the party during a beautiful dusk. All of the colors of the oceanside in the early evening helped to calm On'dinn's nerves from earlier in the day as he took them in. He felt like he was going into a blissful trance, like the kind Minn'dre could master, and this sent him to a place of inner peace unlike he had felt for days. Around him, his fellow crew was bickering over directions to the estate and other trivial details, but he was able to block all of it out as he soaked in the view of the ocean. At times like this, he wished that he didn't live in the heart of the slums where not one inch of natural horizon could be seen. The immense buildings surrounded every direction back home and he was covered in their heavy shadows no matter the time of day.

Without any problem, the Zobbos found a place to park the large vehicle in Sig'ryn's spacious courtyard. There were quite a few arrivals already and Monti was proud of his advice upon getting there early.

"See, what did I tell you?" he boasted. "Get there early, and you get the choice spot. An hour from now, this place is gonna be packed and we'd spend half the party driving around in circles just looking for a place to touch down. Then we'd most likely have to hike fifty miles to the front door. And I don't do that!"

Scanning the lot, On'dinn could see many familiar faces in the gloom of the dusk light, but everyone was transformed into a personality from thousands of years ago. He thought it was an interesting idea to theme the party in such a way and gave Sig'ryn a mental compliment.

Over by the front door of the estate, which was, upon closer examination, a giant bush that served as an elevator to the main hall of this literal treehouse, On'dinn saw Tam'laa Na'rundi talking with some of her fellow classmates. He always thought Tam'laa was an intriguing sort and he considered her being here a good omen and this calmed his nerves even more.

"Hey Tam'laa!" On'dinn flashed a quick hand in greeting.

She stared at him like he was a royal agent who was about to menace her for some infraction she was unaware of. Her deep-brown eyes widened not only in shock but to adjust to the low light of the twilight. The bewildered look took a quick turn to one of recognition and happy surprise.

"On'dinn Jak'sin, is that you?" Her face lit up into a smile.

"The one and only," He was still trying to gauge the situation as to how people would react to him. He had been involved with the attempted assassination of the king a couple of days ago, after all.

"Wow! You really took this ancient theme seriously," she remarked in regards to his new hairdo.

"Yeah, I guess I did. It'll grow back sooner or later." He ran his self-conscious fingers through his hair.

"Looks more like later than sooner," she commented as she played with the short wisps of his tight bangs. "But it looks good on you. Maybe others will see it and you'll begin a new trend."

"That's not the first time someone had suggested that possibility today," he said. Looking above his head, he saw the name of Sig'ryn's family estate caved on a large wooden plaque - " _Edin'na Garden_."

Tam'laa paused as her face turned a bit grim. This made On'dinn nervous as he knew with great foresight what was coming next. She saw him at the arena, he just knew it.

"Eh, On'dinn," she began. "Didn't I see you the other night at the arena? You know, with the Black Hood Group?" she managed to whisper the last part in a conspiratory hiss.

"Yeah, Tam...about that," On'dinn proceeded to recount his abridged version of the royal debacle to a friendly face within the blue shadows of two giant evergreens on that beautiful late-spring evening.
Navel Forces

" **L** ook, I really don't know how I can tell you this, Rylla," Quen'die began. The evening was advancing in a slow manner that made her very impatient. She just wanted this party to be over with and they hadn't even arrived yet.

"Yeah, you've been pretty skittish all day," Lauryl'la noted how her friend was more introspective than usual and failed to make the humorous jabs and banter as was typical of her. "What'cha hiding from me, maiden?"

"I know, it seems sneaky, and that's because it has to be. Since last night, I'm in real big trouble. I don't know if I can trust even you!" Quen'die regretted saying such a thing that instant, but Venn'lith's power and conviction to her words seemed all encompassing; almost omniscient. What if even Lauryl'la was compromised, the maiden feared? All day long she had been champing at the bit to just blurt out last night's debacle to her closest confidant, but the gods only knew if the walls had ears.

"All right, now that hurts, Quen'die," Lauryl'la was becoming miffed at the notion her friend couldn't share a conspiracy. Ever since the two had met each other on their first day of novice school, they would relay any late-breaking news to each other posthaste. "We're best friends and you really shouldn't hold back on me. You know I have nothing to do with it; whatever it is. Do I?"

"Please! Don't be mad at me!" Quen'die pled. She was already on the verge of tears but last night's incessant bouts of sobbing had dried her well to a bone. "It's about last night at Venn'lith's house. Real bad news went down. That's all I'm trying to say."

"Gods! What happened! Tell me everything! It's completely all right. You know I can't stand that evil wench."

"Okay," Quen'die was trying to muster her nerves for the delivery. She felt like she did when she really had to vomit, but didn't want to. Although she knew she would feel better after she let loose, the notion of the act was revolting. "Last night..."

"Yes...?" Lauryl'la was on the edge of her toes as they curled around the frame of her bed. The suspense was eating at her since she had noticed Quen'die had been acting like a walking corpse all afternoon. Almost as if someone had her under a nefarious mind control.

"Last night Venn'lith kind of attacked me. There. I said it." It was so good to admit her defeat from the talons of that villainous maiden. Someone had to know or else she would be nothing but her ragged puppet for the next two years at school. Quen'die knew she needed a cohort. As if the runta team this coming autumn would be torture enough with her on it, Lauryl'la would not be there, and this was a loss Quen'die would not be able to bear.

"No joke?" Her friend locked on her form with the one eye that was not covered by her lush hair. "That's it. Tonight, I'm kicking her..."

"No!" Quen'die squeaked with knee-jerk reaction. "That's just the problem. The plot is way too thick and it involves my whole family. That's the reason, and the only reason, why I didn't tell you immediately. Otherwise, I'd be on her like a duck myself and nobody would be the wiser."

"I don't get it. She hurt you, she goes down. It's that simple." Lauryl'la was becoming heated as her face reddened without her bothering to hide the fact.

"No, it can't be anything like that. She said that she would render my family destitute if I told anyone. Anyone!" Quen'die was now feeling alone again at the very notion of Venn'lith destroying everything her mother and father had built for them over some petty jealousy. When Quen'die thought about it, the envy Venn'lith harbored toward her was all-encompassing. Hyrax's attentions, her academic prowess, her looks, and her athletic ability were all a threat to the Xochian. Venn'lith was envious of Quen'die for being Quen'die and it was as simple as that. If the she-beast could not destroy the wonderful person she had thus far forged in her near-sixteen years, she would destroy her very home. The problem was, Quen'die feared, that she had the tools to do it. "So, you can't let anyone know I told you!"

"How in the hells would she manage that?" Lauryl'la was never that impressed with the imported student whom everyone fawned over. "The little monster is only sixteen!"

"Sure, she's only sixteen, but her father holds the purse strings to _my_ father's entire career right now." Quen'die could see Venn'lith's plot more in a clear light as she explained it aloud to another person. "You see - no Lord Mitlan, no expedition to Mars, which means no more funding for _my_ father. It's sick! Okay, Lith said that if I didn't obey her rules she would smear me. Well, basically."

Lauryl'la twisted her face in thought. "Okay, I guess I see the flow to this. So, if you tell on her, especially to your parents, she'll run to her father and make up some phony story about you, or maybe even your father, and then it's curtains for Mars. Is that the gist of it?"

"Basically, yes," Quen'die affirmed. "The gods only know what cover story or false flag she would raise just to get the funding pulled. Lord Mitlan really seemed like a sensible guy, but Lith is equally sensible when it comes to being conniving. You should have heard the ultimatum she growled at me last night. It was like all her bases were covered!"

"Well, all right, what were the conditions of this ultimatum? I promise I won't say a word." Lauryl'la was sure that Quen'die trusted her more than anyone at school but, at a time like this, she knew her friend needed even extra support.

Quen'die leaned in closer on the bed. "The conditions were that I firstly never speak to Hyrax Arcovis. Second, I should drop from the runta team. If I don't, she said I would regret ever trying to beat her or something to that effect. Finally, if I told anyone at all, she would execute her disgusting plan and we'd be in the slums."

"That is so demented! We have to stop her! I can't help it!" Lauryl'la was getting boiled with her anger toward the sun elf. She wanted to don her mother's warden armor and kick the little Xochian's posterior into Corosa Bay with the rest of the sharks. "It's on!"

"But Rylla, we..." Quen'die didn't like where this was going and needed to arrest her friend's rage to the best of her ability.

"I know, I know," she groaned. "We have to keep this under a lid. I have to be honest, this is going to be tough seeing her smirking from across the room all night and I can't do anything about it. You know how badly I need to teach her a lesson." At that point, Quen'die could see how her friend too was feeling frustrated and helpless by Venn'lith's plot.

Quen'die had to choose her words to assuage her friend's hot fuse. "I totally agree. We just need to put our heads together and find out what we can do to get me out of this."

The maiden could tell that Lauryl'la was seeing red through her brown eyes and she refrained from telling her about the beating and the scratching. There would be no way her friend could control herself tonight if she let that cat out of the bag. There would be one pulpy Xochian body crumpled on the floor of a Thuless'in beach home as her friend rested one victorious foot on her corpse in glorious triumph. The only problem with that scenario was that the said Xochian would rise from the dead in a flash and run home to tell _Papi,_ and then Quen'die would celebrate her birthday dinner with stewed rat as the main course in a sewer somewhere under the streets of the capital city.

Quen'die ran her fingers over her cheek and was quite impressed that the gash had closed to a full heal overnight. It was fortunate that it didn't blemish her milky skin for tonight's party, but it was also a loss of evidence of Venn'lith's crime. That was more likely than not what the twisted elfmaid wanted and it was working all too well for her. She could satisfy her envious rage and still cover her tracks. This maiden was a devious one, Quen'die guessed.

"Tam'laa!" Lauryl'la could always correct a bad situation with the gold elf's assistance. "Tam'laa will be there tonight and she'll know what to do."

"No way!" Quen'die protested. "The minute, no, the very _second_ Tam gets wind of this, she's going to beat Lith into the floor; especially if she's standing right there in front of her. Remember what happened last year when Gord Z'nunim tried to beat up my brother and Tam ripped that goon off him and, well, I'm glad I wasn't Gord."

"Yeah, that was pretty funny," Lauryl'la thought back to the incident at the ringball court last year where Kaedish and Noopy had bumped into the brute on accident and invoked his idiotic wrath. "He was like twice the size of Kaedish and Tam just let him have it right there. Absolutely no concern for who might have been around. Everyone was laughing at him too for being beaten up by a female. He totally deserved it, though."

"Maybe so, but I can't afford a rehash of that tonight, because I won't be laughing afterwards." Every single solution that had worked for the three maidens in the past seemed to end in the demise of Quen'die's family. It was all so entrapping.

"All right," Lauryl'la agreed. "We'll keep Tam out of this for now. I'll just have to think some more on this because Lith certainly seems to have you where she wants you. Look, I'm really glad you told me about this. You needed to tell someone because she would pretty much own you if you didn't have someone at your back."

"Thank you so much, Rylla!" Quen'die was grateful for her friend's ability to see her perspective on this situation and that notion held true. She felt so much better knowing that she wasn't alone in this matter as she did last night. Nothing could be worse than being alone when under attack, the maiden thought, and that was what Venn'lith was hoping for. She failed to factor that Quen'die did indeed have friends and people who cared about her.

"Hey, anytime." Lauryl'la looked at the clock and it was nearing the time for the first arrivals at Sig'ryn's soiree and this made her a bit anxious. "We really need to get this show on the road, though. Let's try to make a method of this madness and get you into some ancient gear."

Lauryl'la's room was rather small, much smaller than Quen'die's, and was covered in all sorts of junk. Cleanliness was not one of the elfmaid's virtues, but she still had managed to look very sharp in public. Gowns, shoes, bikinis and any matter of discarded containers and shopping bags littered the space. She was so busy taking care of the rest of the house while her parents were out on patrol, that her own quarters were neglected as a result. Tonight, she and Quen'die were trying to find a good fit for the party that satisfied an "ancient Atlantis" theme. It wasn't as easy as they supposed, since Quen'die had very little of her own costume attire and needed to find something that matched Lauryl'la's form.

Quen'die really liked what Lauryl'la was doing with her hair as she sat at her dresser. She fashioned a braid that coiled over the top of her head, much like a wreath, in an ancient peasant's style. Earlier, she had dyed streaks of green in her locks which created a sharp contrast to its natural deep red. Quen'die thought it made her look like a dryad or forest faerie from a mythic tale long forgotten.

The gowns were a bit more difficult of a fit for the slight elfmaid. Lauryl'la was tall and slender like Quen'die, but was much more developed and this made it a challenging suit for her up front. The pair settled on a silken gown of a seafoam hue that helped to activate the elfmaid's oxblood hair. The fish-hide articles in Lauryl'la's closet were much too rigid to stay on her tiny frame.

When it came to the bikini tops, Quen'die was faced with a real trial. Lauryl'la had many of them and they were cast in amazing styles of shells and corals which would have fit the theme of the gathering to perfection, but not her body. This was a pool party, after all. Everything they tried hung from Quen'die's slight shoulders like they were on their last thread and Lauryl'la could see her friend becoming self-conscious the very second they fell down. Thinking on the fly, Lauryl'la snuck into her closet for some older articles from her "training days." She made sure to not let Quen'die know that she was digging through such a stash because it might hurt her feelings even more. They decided on a mint-colored set that was quite close to being the same hue of her gown. A perfect match, they both agreed, even if Lauryl'la hadn't worn it for at least three years.

Once she was outfitted, Lauryl'la was arrested by the bruised form evident on her friend's waist. "Hey! That's so capital!" Lauryl'la pointed at the sigil on Quen'die's belly. "You never told me you got a tattoo. I totally want to get one, but my father would hide me if I did."

Below the elfmaid's navel, but above her bikini, was a shape that appeared to be an infinity symbol. "Ehh, no." Quen'die hated that blemish to her skin. It made her feel like a freak and she wasn't very pleased that the bikini only helped to emphasize it. "That's a birthmark. I know it's kind of weird."

Lauryl'la squinted at it even closer. "Seriously? I've never seen it before."

"Yeah, but I've never worn such a low-cut in front of you either. Actually, I don't think I've worn such a low-cut ever."

"You should really get that accentuated at a studio downtown." Lauryl'la had always dreamed about getting a design done by a professional artist, but she could not decide on what and where to put it. If she had her druthers, she wanted a permanent one, but a temporary model might be best as long as she lived with her parents. Sometimes, she was worried that if her parents found out, her father would accuse her of being a degenerate. "That would look so awesome in henna."

"I guess. I mean, I never really thought about it," the elfmaid admitted. "Isn't that kind of expensive?"

"Not really. The great thing about henna is it isn't permanent, so if your folks don't like it, you can always tell them it'll eventually wash off. Either way, you would still have that symbol on you, so I don't see what difference it would make. " Lauryl'la thought red henna would work the best for her friend's fair complexion.

"That's true." Quen'die always thought it was such a strange mark and she felt peculiar when she had learned of the symbol for infinity in her Astrophysical Navigation class, as if it held some inherent purpose. When she saw it on the classroom's screen she made a connection to it and wondered to herself for the rest of that week why she was born with a mathematical sigil on her lower belly. It made her feel even more like a freak knowing that the blemish actually meant something.

"Well, anyway, the bikini looks really good on you. Why don't you just keep it?" Lauryl'la had no younger female siblings and there was no way she would ever hope to be able to squeeze into the top again.

"Oh seriously? I don't have anything like this at home. Most of my suits are one-piece and those are kind of young-looking. Especially for this party." At moments like this, Quen'die realized how she had been ignoring some elements of her maturity and needed to consider an existence outside of the classroom and the runta field. Life was so safe there, and she felt a sense of control and mastery. Tonight would be a test into unfamiliar waters, but at least with Lauryl'la and Tam'laa there, she wouldn't be sailing solo.

"Not a problem; besides, you probably won't be able to fit into it for long anyway." Lauryl'la always was an encouragement to her and that was something for which she was grateful. So many maidens were not so lucky. They either had to compete with drama and treachery from their alleged friends and those relationships were more like a job. Some maidens just didn't have any friends at all. Quen'die guessed that any of Venn'lith's entourage had fallen in with the former. How terrible it must be to have that clown running your social life, she shivered. Then again, it remained to be seen if the sun elf wouldn't do such a thing to her by force in her near future.

If only she had a plan for tonight, she thought as she chewed her bottom lip. It was a topic she felt she couldn't touch until a few moments before and the catharsis of letting it all out to Lauryl'la was like sliding a giant marble slab off of her sternum. She supposed a short coach ride across the bay to Sig'ryn's did not allow much time for a powwow that would free her of this trap. If she wanted to speak to Hyrax Arcovis without a care, she should have every right to do so and no pint-sized freak should deter her from such a freedom. And Venn'lith _was_ a freak. Anybody who was so insecure where she demanded such compliance from anyone else was disturbed in the mind and soul. Quen'die figured if she herself were that concerned about a male, and she wasn't by any means, she would just compete for him with all the more vigor and not use the barbarian tactic of brute force and ignorance. What a beast of a person.

"Okay, now that that's settled, let's get into gear." Lauryl'la was itching to get out of the house. Her parents were away on a training weekend with the wardens beginning that evening and Quen'die felt so much stronger knowing that she could spend the night at her place. As far as Venn'lith was concerned, her own parents were off limits for any kind of support and she sort of resented them for it, but she couldn't figure out why. It was almost like those two were on the Xochian's side without ever saying so. Considering Father had so much riding on his business relationship with Lord Mitlan, there may have been some truth to her suspicion. Venn'lith was counting on such a situation and made her move against Quen'die with that opportunity. It was a terrible loophole that she had exploited.

It was pitch dark outside by the time the pair reached Lauryl'la's coach. They had been fussing too long over what to wear and primping their looks to transform themselves into maidens from thousands of years ago. Quen'die felt quite fortunate for her ghostly complexion and scarlet hair because it really did assist in making her costume look unique. Although Lauryl'la looked like a million brens, Quen'die supposed that she might appear very much like many of the other maidens at the party. There would be ubiquitous togas and saris as far as the eye could see tonight, but Quen'die figured she would stand out much better from all of them as an ancient faerie. She looked so good in those green hues. She hoped in silence that such conspicuity wouldn't work against her. She knew there would be a shark in this pond, and sharks swim in schools.

Lauryl'la double-checked everything to make sure she wasn't forgetting any necessities and the two hopped into her old coach. The cab of the vehicle was still rather messy, and tonight it seemed an inappropriate method of transporting the beauties to such a lavish engagement.

"Guess what," Quen'die grabbed her friend's attention after she cast the coach into power.

Lauryl'la was concentrating on backing the vehicle out of its spot. "What's up?"

"Despite last night's visit to the House of Horrors, I did get some really good news." Quen'die had been so preoccupied with the drama Venn'lith was orchestrating and the hectic process of getting ready for her first party that she had all but forgotten about the wonderful news her father had delivered.

"Know how my birthday is next month? Father said I'm getting my own coach!" Quen'die snuggled back into the humble vehicle's ripped upholstery with a sense of pride. She was so happy to remember such an empowering article of news and it was helping to lift her mood.

"Oh my gods! You lie!" Lauryl'la was more than happy to hear this and she too felt Quen'die's excitement as she navigated the clunky beater out of her courtyard.

"Well, he didn't say precisely: 'Quen'die, I am getting you a coach,' but he certainly did imply it and he packed that implication with a wink," she was brimming with a smile.

"Yeah, I would agree. After all, it is your sixteenth, and with that new deal he cut with Lord Mitlan, I'd say your suspicion may be correct." Lauryl'la looked over at her friend with a crooked grin.

"What! Do you know something about this?" Quen'die took that smile for a conspiracy and wondered if whether or not her friend was in cahoots with her father. The notion raced through her red head.

Lauryl'la shot up wide-eyed at the accusation. "No! Nothing such as that, I was just putting two and two together and I came up with a new coach."

"Oh, I see." Quen'die's pile of hopes was dashed by a slight amount. It would have helped cement her optimism on the matter if even her best friend knew of this tidbit. Either way, she was right; it was only logical. "You really had me going there for a second."

"Sorry about that, maiden. Hey! I wonder what kind of coach you're going to get. If you get one, that is." Lauryl'la was only trying to be practical in the off-chance that Quen'die was jumping the caster. "I hope it's big so we can pack in all our people. At least I hope it's newer than this petrified bucket of twigs."

"Hey, I'd be grateful for even your petrified bucket. Until last night, I had no clue that I was even going to get anything of the sort." It was true, Quen'die hadn't dwelled much on what her birthday would hold for her. Even though the sixteenth year was by tradition a remarkable event for an elf, with such a dramatic week beginning with a possible alien invasion and ending with an assault by the missing link, her mind was not concerned with any banalities as a birthday a couple of weeks into the future.

"Always the practical one, Dee. I suppose your model lies somewhere between this thing and Lith's. Did you know that she drives a brand new Royal Manaball Flying Saber model?" Lauryl'la was a bit impressed about this fact Quen'die could tell. She was always more into glamour and to be so close to someone who drove such a vehicle was quite a brush for her. "She totally doesn't deserve it either, but her father is rich and all that. Speaking of wealth, did you know Sig'ryn's house is built into the side of a giant tree?"

"Oh, yeah, I've heard about those kinds of houses on the manascreen. I didn't know he lived in one of those." Quen'die peered out her passenger window to stare at the warm evening shimmer around them.

"Yeah, he does. As a matter-of-fact, some portions of the house are made from the tree itself! Like the plumbing is completely rainwater and their manafountain is from the central trunk and some of the walls are made out branches and stuff. You'll just have to see it." Quen'die could tell her friend was already too impressed with the illusions afforded by the rich. She could never figure out why so many people couldn't see that they were just like all the rest deep down.

"The stories are usually more impressive than the actual thing. When we get there, we probably won't even know the difference from any other old party. There's going to be so many people there," Quen'die reasoned with her friend.

The two wound through the dockside neighborhoods and reached the bay. They drove past their beachside adept school on the way to the aqualanes. A blanket of star-flecked night swallowed the building and it looked so unfamiliar. It felt like they had been away from it for years instead of a few days.

"Looks like the surprise vacation is over after Sunday, huh?" Lauryl'la wanted to return to the grind of school in some ways on Moonday because she would be free from all the chores and housekeeping her folks expected of her as they had extra shifts due to the pyramids' arrival. "Good ol' Seabreeze Grand."

"I would really like to go back, but I guess that depends on how tonight pans out."

Quen'die was apprehensive about resuming classes, however, because of Venn'lith's horrible plans. At least she didn't share any periods with her so she wouldn't be a captive audience to her evil looks, but she still needed to contend with her in the halls and on the grounds. In the back of her mind, Quen'die knew that the witch would be prepared to make a concerted effort to stalk and harass her every chance she got, and that would be a definite fate for her if she managed another crack at her at the party. If such a scene developed, she expected to hope there would be an actual alien invasion before the weekend finished.

"Don't worry!" Lauryl'la slapped her friend's thigh. "I have your back and no matter what, Tam will jump in like a boiling frog if she tries anything. She's just a spoiled rich maiden. Don't give her so much power."

That was easy for Lauryl'la to say, Quen'die figured. After all, this spoiled rich maiden held her whole family hostage by the brens. She didn't want to focus on such moribund matters. Not tonight. She would just make sure that she would avoid her and her menacing glares as best as she could. She would also have to steer clear from Hyrax as well, but she wasn't heartbroken over that fact when she thought more about it. As far as she was concerned, the lad was just a decent friend and a valuable teammate.

"Hey, the aqualanes are open again. I guess the world didn't end after all. We're going to have to take that to get across the bay to Sig'ryn's. Hang on, we're gonna skim." Lauryl'la chanted some manaspeech to the trackball and the coach was pulled a touch higher off the ground without breaking any speed. " _Aquan'nas Capos capos_!"

Quen'die loved skimming the water. The coach left the road and sped over the waters of Corosa Bay without a seam. The ride was so smooth over the tiny waves that even Lauryl'la's rickety beast navigated the terrain like quicksilver compared to the roads. Quen'die wanted to feel the sensation of driving over the waters in her own coach and planned to do exactly that the first day she got one.

On either side of the maidens, commercial sea traffic lumbered their wares from all over the world. Markings of various languages and scripts lined the ships and being so close to the vessels made the pair realize how big they were. Quen'die craned her neck out of the passenger side window to catch a glimpse of any sailors or seafarers, but she could not as their decks were too high up to see. Lauryl'la ignored the waterborne behemoths and kept her focus on her driving.

"Hey! Isn't that Sig'ryn's father's boat we're next to?" Quen'die asked her friend while pointing at one of the ships. Emblazoned in blue across the hull of one of the liners was the graphic, " _God'runn Industries_ ," which bore Sig'ryn's family name.

"Probably," Lauryl'la was still steadying the coach through the aqualane. "I know his father is an importer/exporter. More than likely it's just _one_ of his boats."

Corosa Bay had been suffering a string of sabotages around that time. The Black Hood Group had been a suspect to blame for the deeds, although that had not been confirmed. By and large, the interferences were of a nonviolent nature. Infestation of imported grain with roaches, unplugged manatanker caps, cut manalines on tugships and even a rampage by a commercial-grade loading golem. It was most fortunate that nobody had been hurt by what thus far had been nothing but shenanigans. After the arrival of the pyramids, the civilian aqualanes had been closed for the movement of emergency supply shipments only, but the waterways were reopened as of earlier that morning.

When they reached land again, the coach turned into the beachside neighborhoods. The homes on this side of the bay were as luxurious as Venn'lith's subdivision except the area was much more wooded; populated with giant evergreen trees.

"Pretty snazzy, huh?" Lauryl'la was enjoying the view and almost seemed entranced by it. These homes were of much higher quality and design than hers, but she knew in the back of her mind that she would live in one someday. It was imperative that she did.

"Believe me, after last night, I have had enough of 'snazz,'" Quen'die intoned. This sent both the maidens into laughter, and that was enough ammunition of good spirits to arm the two for their grand entrance that night.

"From now on, I'm calling you Lady Snazz." Lauryl'la just liked the sound of the nickname and Quen'die joined her in more peals of laughter.

"No, I'm 'Lady Snazz, the Red Barbarian!'" Quen'die cried with epic triumph.

Sig'ryn's house was quite eccentric and grand at the same time. The entire courtyard was filled with coaches of all makes and models. The maidens recognized many of the vehicles as the sprawling lawns and central grotto were milling with elves. Neither of the elfmaids could distinguish any faces in the dark, but they could make out the ancient-themed gowns. Not a single elf present was dressed in contemporary fashion and they felt like they were driving into a ghostly time warp.

Unbeknownst to Quen'die, a ghost was not the otherworldly being that she would encounter that night at this particular gathering. The lives of all the elves of the earth had changed in some way or form in the last week, but that evening was going to alter the very notion of life itself for one Quen'die Reyliss not long after she entered the lavish oak doors of the arboreal God'runn estate.
Fine Time

" **T** hat was so capital!" Quen'die remarked. "It was like being swallowed by a giant plant!"

The lift to the God'runn mansion was as natural as the home's gigantic trunk as every one of its elements was built of hybrid flora controlled and maintained by mana. It was a new and somewhat eccentric method of architecture developed by Kumarian biologists and designers with the goal of altering plant life to bend to the whims of the house's residents. Even the lighting in many instances was all natural.

"Look!" Lauryl'la pointed to a big lantern that illuminated an enormous redwood trunk which served as a pillar. "It's like a big glowworm's butt!"

"Yeah, but if you look closely, it's really a bunch of flowers tightly packed together in the shape of a big manabulb," Quen'die noted to her friend.

"Hey, yeah! They're just lilacs but they're emitting light!" Lauryl'la made a puzzled frown with her high and fine brows. "I don't understand how!"

"My father is obsessed with these things. Supposedly, this whole house conserves mana by using the natural flora of the region for its structure and some of its power. It's all Earth-happy and stuff." Quen'die shrugged her shoulders. "Don't look at me; I'm not a biologist."

"Hmm, you should snap some pictures with your phone for him. He'd love it!" Lauryl'la suggested and Quen'die figured that would be a nice gesture for the elf. Considering how nervous he was sure to be with her going to a big party unattended, maybe a souvenir would be just the thing to help assuage his fears about, well, just about everything.

Deeper into the house, the maidens navigated their way through party-goers as the winding tunnels' walls were made of nothing but vines and branches that warped and bent in unusual shapes. The plants wound into one another with the tightest torque, mimicking all but seamless vaults and arches.

The party sprawled throughout the house, but most of the elves present congregated in Sig'ryn's games' room. It was shaped into a giant dome that housed all manner of entertainment from sunwheel tables to a giant orbital 3-D manascreen, much like Venn'lith's, but larger. Teams of raucous young elves were pitted against one another in a multiplayer game of _Golem Smash III_. The figures rendered in the game were just shy of ten feet tall inside the screen's immense crystal ball.

"What do you think, maiden?" Quen'die scanned the gigantic room while she squinted her eyes through the green glow of the lighting. "It's so dim in here that I can barely recognize anyone. Gods, this room is almost as big as our school's gymnasium!"

As she had reached the center of the party, the worrisome topic of Venn'lith Mitlan returned to Quen'die's mind. That little witch had to be in the gloom of the crowd somewhere, she supposed. Venn'lith stated she would arrive to this event not long before she assaulted her the other night. Perhaps she would be fortunate enough to avoid the fiend for the whole duration of the party, Quen'die reasoned. The place was so dark and gigantic that it might be easy enough to hide from her if she watched her step, and it helped that she was dressed in such a way that was unconventional for her; almost like a disguise.

"I can't figure out who's who, either," Lauryl'la added. "We'll just have to let our eyes adjust to the lights."

Sig'ryn's sunwheel tables were models of the most exquisite craftsmanship that were illuminated from within. His family had about four of them in this room alone, as far as Quen'die could count by their golden glows which broke up the green ambience of the party. At a larger model off to her left, Quen'die spotted her first familiar face of the evening.

"Look," she pointed off to the gaming table with the clutch of young males basking in the gilded light. "It's Hyrax." Seeing him made Quen'die's heart sink. Not so much that she carried any sort of unrequited love for the elf, not at all, but he was a reminder of the leash Venn'lith had shackled around her long neck at that terrible dinner. Just to show Venn'lith that she held no control over her, she wanted to go up to him and kiss the lad right in front of the whole party. Thinking with prudent foresight, Quen'die knew the horrible price such a display of backbone would cost her family.

"Ewww," Lauryl'la winced. "He's sloppy drunk! It's not even 10 p.m. and he can barely prop himself up on the sunwheel table!"

Quen'die noticed that the prince of her runta league was indeed inebriated. Very inebriated. From where she was standing, it appeared that his big toady Tal'liss Garb'ann had to hold him upright. Next to the two, Ferd'inn Kokoff was tapping figures into his tablet and adjusting his round spectacles as the rest of the table's participants barked and shouted bets for the game's next winning numbers.

The entire display of such tacky behavior from a young elf whom she had respected and thought of as a potential romance was very disappointing to her. If it was normal for him to be like this outside of school and off the field, there was no way Quen'die could consider him as a potential _novion_. Not all that glitters is gold, as her mother would say now and again.

Disappointment gave way to disgust when she saw the runta champ lose his footing twice as he knocked over his large stein of mead on the gaming table which was polished to a blinding sheen. Garb'ann propped him up again as Hyrax fell almost face-first into the sticky mess of alcohol that dripped onto the floor.

"Well, I guess I'm not going to throw myself on that lug just to make Lith jealous," Quen'die stated. "That's so disgusting! Who cares if it's 10 p.m. or any time of the night? Nobody should drink that much - ever."

Lauryl'la could see Quen'die's disappointed repugnance turn to a look of concern. As far as she considered it, Hyrax was his own person and if he wanted to act upon his poor decisions, then so be it. Maybe she felt that way because she had to fend for herself most afternoons as she was expected to keep any and all situations in check if chaos reared its ugly and unpredictable head. Her parents had little complaint about her and she considered it to be the result of a natural good sense.

"Look, Quen'die." Lauryl'la began. "Don't get all worried about the big oaf. If he has a problem with this kind of stuff, it isn't your responsibility. You just need to look after yourself."

"Maybe so, but what if he's seriously sick from it! He could have liquor poisoning or something!" The young maiden was working herself into a deeper anxiety over this.

"What can you do about it?" Quen'die's caretaking behaviors often annoyed Lauryl'la and she sometimes worried that they would throw her best friend into a terrible bind someday. "It's really not your place to fix this and you're not a health warden or anything. I know it sounds selfish, but just feel fortunate that you aren't caught up into that kind of a problem. Just because you're a hero on the runta field doesn't mean you can always save the day."

"Yeah, I know, but he's my captain and..." Quen'die was cut off by her friend's heated reaction.

"And the only two things he's a captain of right now are the sunwheel table and a stein. To be honest, it looks as though his ship is sinking." Lauryl'la admired her friend's compassion but sometimes she would go overboard with the things that weren't her concern.

"Okay. I guess you're right. I mean, this is a party, so let's mingle with people that can actually string two words together," Quen'die relented and wondered if she too was not exhibiting some of the high-tension anxiety that her father would so often.

The maidens sauntered down into the sunken main floor of the games' room and Lauryl'la made sure to steer her friend away from Hyrax's entourage. On an opposite side of the packed room, a small stage made of bushes and bramble rose from the deep floor. This area was shrouded in total darkness and the maidens could see the vague shapes of elves milling about it.

"I wonder if that's where The Gonduanna Princes are going to set up," Lauryl'la pointed.

"Oh yeah! I almost forgot they're tonight's entertainment. This should be amazing," Quen'die said as a sudden burst of happy energy coursed through her form. "I know, let's go out on the deck and check out the pool until that starts."

"Right, good idea," Lauryl'la agreed. "Maybe we'll find Tam'laa out there."

The God'runn's pool deck was at the end of a tunnel made out of woven vines that snaked up above the rest of the house. The water itself collected into a twenty-foot-deep bowl made of the same species of vines and was lit from below by the compacted lilacs that illuminated portions of the estate elsewhere. It looked like a tiny lake of purple wine. The maidens had never seen a structure quite like it before. This house was getting more and more interesting, Quen'die thought.

Elves were lounging around the water and many were jumping in and out of it as they splashed each other in aquatic play. The light up on the deck was a stunning violet as opposed to the green haze of the games' room. In another vine-hewn tunnel off to the side of the deck lay the sauna room which was bellowing out a steady stream of steam from its blowholes.

"Lauryl'la Hay'cenn!" a gruff voice boomed not long after the pair boarded the deck.

Looking over to the source of the catcall, the maidens saw a group of rowdy elves occupying a large round table that had a small banana tree growing out of its center which served as a natural umbrella. They sported the deepest of tans and were covered with henna tattoos of various designs and both the males and females of this group had tawdry amounts of jewelry dripping from their bodies. As Quen'die adjusted her eyes to the amethyst light of the pool, she saw that it was the Zobbos from the Docks district.

Quen'die thought they were an all right clique of elves, even though they could be rather raucous and crude. The largest of the crew, the one she believed they called "Warehouse" had already (by the skin of his teeth) graduated from adept school. She had remembered him lumbering through the halls her first year at Seabreeze Grand and thought back to how intimidating he was to her then. He had lifted a tray full of fried squid from the buffet table and was digging into it all by himself. Either way, she liked the eccentric group and had giggled many times at their sometimes foul wit and gross humor at school.

"Hey guys!" Lauryl'la called back, bursting with cheer. She was better acquainted with the crew than Quen'die and lived in the neighborhood just one over from them. Her parents were no strangers to these elves either as they had made many official visits to the Zobbos' dockside abode for various calls, but mostly for noise complaints. The shorter lad whom they nicknamed "Cheatsheet" had been picked up by Lauryl'la's mother on truancy charges a couple of times.

"Hi there, ladies," a very familiar voice rang out from within the group of brazen youths. Tam'laa Na'rundi looked amazing. She had made tremendous effort with her ancient costume for this party. Her tight-woven curls, as was the usual style for her, were relaxed into draping lengths of henna-reddened swirls that framed her face. A large violet clasp held her topknot which fountained even more lengths of her deep, dark mane around the crest of her head. She was already in her beach gear as were the rest of the Zobbos and her dark brown skin looked flawless. Quen'die was so happy to find her friend there that night and her jitters and worries about Venn'lith and Hyrax had all but vanished upon seeing her infectious smile.

Nestled deep within the gaggle of Zobbos, skulked a slim young elf who took the ancient theme a touch to the extreme. His hair was as black as the rest of his mates, but it was cut so short that it clung to the sides of his face and skull. Why anyone would be so bold in this day and age to don a hairdo like that for just one party must have been suffering from insanity, as far as Quen'die was concerned. Either way, the elf looked a bit nervous and appeared to make a concerted effort to avoid her and Lauryl'la's eyes as he seemed to sink into the natural shape of his seat itself.

"Tam, did the Zobbos recruit you or something?" Lauryl'la inquired with a joking groan.

"No, I'm more of an attaché tonight." The Gonduannian appeared to be in a deep conversation with the eccentric new elf as they were sharing some exotic drink devised at the poolside wetbar.

"There are seven of you now," Quen'die commented, more than amused. "Do you Zobbos multiply when someone throws water on you?"

"Aww! That's a good one, Dee Reyliss!" the dockside entourage hollered in unison. Quen'die knew she had to give these guys some lip if she didn't want to appear too haughty with them; a trait this group tended to despise.

"Naw, we just found a couple of strays for the night and figured they needed a little bit of Zobbo-style charity," explained Monti Dell'lavio. He was what one could best describe as this outfit's "leader." "You know On'dinn Jak'sin, anyway. Don't you?"

Lauryl'la and Quen'die both gasped upon this revelation. Not just because of his drastic change in appearance, but because a genuine Black Hoodie was sipping drinks with their friend a couple of nights after being involved in a royal assassination attempt.

"Eh, excuse me!" Lauryl'la barked at the suspected capital offender from across the table. She had inherited an authoritative tone from her parents and Quen'die sometimes thought she would make a great civil warden one day. "Call me crazy, but didn't you just try to assassinate the king the other night?" To that, the young elf's eyes widened in shock and he sank deeper into his leafy chair which grew out of the deck as did all the other fixtures.

The female Zobbo known as "Pumpkin" stood up to his defense as her jewelry clacked with her startled movements. "No! It's nothing like what you think! He had nothing to do with any of that!"

"Bull!" Lauryl'la challenged. "Dee and Tam both saw him with their own eyes! He was with those freaks that night!"

"Listen! Everyone!" Tam'laa cut in. She stood up with an almost royal grace and waved with a calming motion like she was parting the waters of a tumultuous maelstrom. "He was infiltrating them for a cover story for the school newsscrolls. He just got in with them on the wrong night at the wrong place."

The young elf sat back up a bit to that. He seemed relieved when he saw an immediate look of trust wash over Quen'die's eyes upon her friend's statement of exoneration. Lauryl'la didn't seem quite as convinced as her slim brows remained locked into a stentorian frown. She looked like a Tel'lemurian dictator lording over her subjects with anger and wariness.

"I don't know about that, Tam'laa," she retorted, continuing her skepticism and never taking her eyes off the potential murderer.

The slight male elf was becoming agitated with Lauryl'la's unrelenting suspicion, and all present could see it. He stood up at last with Tam'laa and Pumpkin in order to clear his name, even if his account wasn't the complete truth. His current company would have to settle for his cover story.

"Look, everyone," On'dinn began. "Tam and the Zobbos have heard this a million times already, but all I was doing was taking a little initiative with my journalism class by doing some undercover reporting on the Black Hood Group. For the most part, those people are all right; they just want to work for the world in the best way they can. Their leader was always a bit weird and eccentric, but the night before the attempt, he was acting even stranger and they had this new addition to the group. She was this rather odd lady named Sammian. You have probably read all about her on the newsscrolls. Well, anyway, she was talking to him in private for most of that evening but she wouldn't go to the arena with the group the night of the king's address. Neither I nor any of the group knew that the old freak was going to take shots at the king! Yeah, I was arrested, but we were all let go when the bulls put us under the biomana and saw that we had no knowledge of his ideation." With that, he slunk back with self-assured pride into his seat; a cocked grin of satisfaction running across half of his face.

"See that! He's off the hook!" Monti reasoned with Lauryl'la. "Hey, you have to admit, it takes some spine to infiltrate a creepy group like that!"

"Yeah!" Warehouse bellowed in agreement with his usual deep baritone between mouthfuls of squid.

"Well, all right." Lauryl'la hated to be wrong sometimes, but she had to confess that she didn't know the full story from an insider's perspective. A good detective should always be as impartial as possible but still sleep with one eye open. Her intuition just wouldn't allow her to believe the tale the lad told, as logical as it sounded. "I guess I'm sorry about that, On'dinn. After all, the biomana scanners don't lie."

Quen'die also thought that Lauryl'la was being too harsh with On'dinn. It was true that she saw him with the protesters that night, but she knew that he was indeed the type of student to go that extra mile when it came to his classes. He never did anything halfway or rushed and it was most often rather inventive, so, coming from him, it wasn't too surprising of a tale. On'dinn was not the first person she would care to be marooned with on a desert island, but after seeing Hyrax's drunken and sloppy state downstairs, she remembered how much people could amaze her. She had to admit, Monti was right about his stunt requiring a lot of courage.

"Hey look, everyone," Monti was lifting his muscular frame up from his seat while re-donning his toga. "Let's forget about all this cloak-and-dagger stuff and get downstairs. The Princes are gonna start up soon and I don't want to be stuck way in the back of the room when they do. After that, we can always get back to the pool."

Face was something of a natural leader, Quen'die observed. Upon his statement everyone got up to go downstairs without question. Even Warehouse abandoned his trough of squid upon the head Zobbo's suggestion. Sometimes, Quen'die doubted her own leadership skills and wondered if the only thing she was ever in charge of was her annoying little brother. Sure, she was well-respected for her athletic abilities, but beyond that, she began to picture herself more and more as one who was just following orders to the best of her ability. Even Lauryl'la, who was a mediocre student at best and who was, without question, losing interest in athletics seemed to make all the decisions when the two were together.

Then there was On'dinn. The young elf was never afraid to speak up, no matter how unpopular his views may be, and she was quite impressed upon hearing of his daring escapade with the Black Hood. She would have never had the gumption to infiltrate a suspicious affiliation just for a mere school assignment. That was taking initiative to the utmost, as Monti had pointed out. From one leader to another, both held each other's respect. Quen'die made a note to herself to start taking more active measures in her life; to go that extra length and do something, anything remarkable without being told or suggested to do so.

The hallways of the all-natural house were beginning to reverberate with beats that were native to the cultures of Gonduanna. Sound from the games' room was reaching all corners of the house as the volume increased with a steady rise in decibels and the tone and timbre was swirling with each emission through the corridors like a wind tunnel. Quen'die loved the wind-up to the show, even if it was long and drawn out. Its repetition was a calling for everyone to share the noise with the Princes, and nobody was going to be left out.

The main floor of the games' room was becoming thicker with elves. Ancient garb of all design and colors floated around her. She recognized many faces from school, but fair amounts of them were still unfamiliar to her. They were either University students who wanted to catch the show or just adult fans of The Gonduanna Princes. They were a multi-national act, after all.

Seeing Hyrax blasted beyond comprehension was a grave letdown to Quen'die, and she looked back to his sunwheel table and saw that he was still slumped in the same place over a stein of mead. The big fool was going to miss the show because he would rather spend the party nursing his drinks. He may be the captain of her team, but as far as someone who could have a good time, he was a total loser. If he wanted to waste that eventful night in such a state, that was his loss.

Not to her surprise, Venn'lith was nowhere near him, as even a despicable creature such as she elected to steer clear of his display of drunken pathos. Ferd'inn Kokoff had ceased calculating bets and wagers for Hyrax and Quen'die figured he had run off to see the coming show. The only person who stood by the captain on his own scuttled ship was the loutish Garb'ann who was too busy holding him upright.

"Hey, Dee!" Lauryl'la nudged her friend. "There's the object of your affection right over there." She pointed to the side of the stage where Venn'lith Mitlan was conversing with a tall gold elf. In her hand was a large wad of brens and Quen'die could see her head darting side to side as if she didn't want the meeting to be noticed.

"Hey, yeah! That's the little beast!" Quen'die yelped within the din of the recorded drums. She wished in her secret soul that the Xochian maiden overheard her, but the creep was in heated collusion with this elf in the shadows of the flickering stage lights.

"Gods, look at her gown! She looks like a clown in that!" Lauryl'la commented on her yellow dress marked by large blobs of color and her sharp-gold tiara with a giggle. "An evil clown. Those kinds are the worst."

Venn'lith was another leader in her own right. After all, she had managed to put Quen'die's family in ultimate peril. Such evil was not the kind of power she wanted to hold when it came to taking charge of her life. She would rather beg for money as a lowly street urchin in the bowels of downtown if given the choice.

"I thought _Sig'ryn_ paid the Princes to play tonight," Quen'die noted with much wariness.

"See, I don't like this," Lauryl'la agreed with an equal suspicion. "I wonder what she's paying him for?"

"Don't ask, don't tell, I always say. I hope it's none of our business." Quen'die ran through all the possibilities of what the little witch was up to. If her eyes read the situation to the best of their ability, the elf was one of the members of the Princes, but she couldn't discern which one. It was true, as Quen'die learned the other night from her inbox that Venn'lith was in direct contact with at least one of them. Perhaps she was just another one of his many conquests which the Prince was certain to have worldwide.

The lights of the gaming room were no longer a green gloom, but flashed in an alternation of colors from the full spectrum. How a bunch of woven lilacs could emit all these different hues boggled Quen'die's mind, but she found the display amazing. The beats were becoming louder and more chaotic and the rays were following the noise in perfect tandem. It would not be long before the big show.

"Agh! Excuse me!" Quen'die felt a hard bump hit her slender side. It was probably another reveler who had too much to drink. That was one of the most annoying factors to this kind of gathering, she learned.

She checked herself to see if anything was splashed on her gown, but she was dry. She looked over to the source of the collision and saw a rather tall male. His hair was very long and he wore it tied into a thick braid that draped down one side of his chest. Through the flashing and frantic ebbing colors of the room, she could tell that it was a golden blond.

"Hey! Are you all right?" He leaned in closer to her. He didn't appear or smell drunk, although Quen'die could tell that his face was a little too wizened for adept school.

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay," she answered with a stutter.

He thrust out his hand in greeting. 'Hi. I'm Mavriel."

"Eh, my name is Quen'die." She offered back her hand and his grip was like a glove of softest cotton. This was surprising to her because it looked like it was cast of pipes and wires.

"Do you mind if I stand here with you guys?" he asked, scanning the scene from side to side. "It's getting pretty packed around here and I can at least still see the stage."

He was at least seven feet tall, so seeing The Gonduanna Princes perform would not be much of an effort for him even if they were stuck at the back of the room, but he looked nice enough in Quen'die's opinion. Under normal circumstances, if an unknown male were to pay any attention to her, she would freeze like a mammoth in the Vrillian Wastes, but for some strange reason, she didn't experience that sensation with this newcomer. He wasn't even within her social network, so there would be no way she would need to bother with seeing him come Moonday if she made some sort of embarrassing gaffe.

"Um...okay," she managed. He was standing so close to her as the crowd was forming for the inevitable exposition that would begin in any time. The lights were becoming more and more hectic in their stroboscopic frenzy that her eyes were having a difficult time focusing and the beats were soon accompanied by strange bass noises that the ramparts of manasynths were booming low into her innards.

She looked up his frame to see that he was staring at her and his eyes were a sunny brown. They were almost like the buttered toast that her mother would prepare for her every morning, but she didn't want any thoughts of her at this moment because such notions made her feel so young in the warm shade of this mysterious elf. How old could he be, she wondered? At least a university student, she decided. She vowed to investigate further into this golden oddity's background when the performance was over. Lauryl'la would be so impressed if she dated a male outside of their insular community of Seabreeze Grand.

In a sudden instant, everything stopped. The silence was as palpable as the hide of a sabercat dried out for the market as was the black of the darkness that occurred when the room's natural light winked out. Deep down, she hoped that this Mavriel guy would at least bump into her again during the protracted wait for the music to explode with the expected force that only the Princes could deliver.

It was true, she loved the Princes. She had all of their songs that she could get a hold of. On her phone, on her tablet and on her screen at home; she had downloaded them all. The Gonduanna Princes were the best producers and lyricists of any musical outfit to hit the markets. There was something about MC Prince Nam'mi that she could connect with. He knew how she felt and how she would react to those feelings like a science. All of her secrets and dreams were up front and center with his fevered compositions.

_I Like You, but I Don't Love You_ was a single that captured the fleeting feelings that she would experience whenever she was thinking about a potential romantic prospect at school. _Take it Back, Maiden_ was one of her favorites. Although written by a guy, it proposed how a female could cope with the drama and heartache of actually relenting to a male's affections and still be her own person. A maiden like Quen'die needed plenty of personal space due to her schedule and that tune spoke to her better than the lessons of any professor at school.

With a blinding flash of the God'runn estate's alien lighting, the stage burst with color and a thunderous boom. The elves in the audience met that beat with their own cheers of joy and all the fears and woes regarding the pyramids, the assassination attempt, or even the trifling crises of their daily lives were wiped clean for this very moment. Those imported geniuses were going to give that party an exclusive treat like none other. The whole world could be ending outside, but they would not be any wiser to it as this beautiful production of sight and sound connected everyone. Even that beast, Venn'lith Mitlan.

"Ladies and Lords of Corosa City!" God'rie Bal'undi, the manager of the band boomed through the sound system. He was dressed in ancient garb much like the rest of the party-goers. "I bring unto thee the Masters of Music! The Bards of Boom! The Troubadours of Trouble! From deep out of the jungles of Dam'balla Province - The Gonduanna Princes!"

The collective scream of the crowd was deafening, and Quen'die wished that she had equipped her large ears with some plugs. She didn't want them to get hot like they did earlier that week during the quake. Lauryl'la, who did indeed have a pair of whoppers on the sides of her head, was covering them with her hands and laughing like a maniac.

_You Got With Him?_ was their first number. It described a hilarious account of a maiden who agreed on having a relationship with a dubious guy who just wasn't her type. All throughout the song, Quen'die couldn't help but think of On'dinn Jak'sin and Tam'laa. She looked over to the pair and saw that they were singing the words together and laughing at each other with some element of affection. It must have been the first time in her life that she saw the dour, intellectual male wear such glee on his face. She stole a quick glance at her new-found compatriot, Mavriel, and was met with his direct warm gaze once again. With a large lump in her throat she looked away from him with lightning reflexes. How much did this song pertain to her, she wondered?

Prince Nam'mi was always in top form during the show, just like in the videos on the manascreen, but there he was in the same room like magic. Despite the ancient dress code of the party, the Princes were donning their usual hooded overcloaks printed in a red and green camouflage that had become something of a trademark to their presence. Quen'die was ecstatic, and Lauryl'la was screaming her head off in ecstasy. All the Zobbos were punching their fists in the air with perfect timing to the beat of their music. Not a single bad feeling existed in that beautiful all-natural house at that moment. Well, maybe for Hyrax Arcovis, but he decided to get drunk and act the fool.

The Princes played their complete collection throughout the night and even some unreleased tunes written for this particular crowd as a special gift. All were an amazing assault to Quen'die's ears. She was becoming exhausted from the energy that the group emitted and she wondered how they could do this every night while on tour. After soaking in the sounds for a bit, she danced with the enigmatic older male and one time, the giant Warehouse swung her slight frame around the floor during their live rendition of _I Need 'em Skinny_. Her gut ached with laughter after that escapade.

With a sudden oscillating blast, the relentless noise of the group cut out. The DJ had halted all sounds with a deafening scratch to his manasynths. One very popular freeform ad libitum tune had not yet been performed: the infamous _Tell the Truth._

_Tell the Truth_ was a total rip on someone or something. It usually focused on a popular figure or politician that needed a bit of a jibe only to end in a scathing invective of character assassination in regards to its subject. Who would the target of the song be tonight, Quen'die pondered? Could it be that Travius guy who tried to kill her king? Could it be the MC of a rival pop group? Perhaps it was a popular actor or actress? Whatever the subject, the song was never the same twice and it had been quite a live collector's item for the underground downloading community.

After Prince Ro'dee X, their DJ ceased the synths and the beats, he had gestured with wild energy to get the rest of the outfit to pay attention. With authority he barked, "All right, everyone. I think it's time!" he continued with a beat-laden buildup. "I think it's time to _tell the truth_!"

The throng of elves joined the DJ in that last line with a mountainous roar. Everyone present was laughing and waiting with anticipation of who would be tonight's subject of ridicule of the famous tune. Nam'mi began as Ro'dee X fired up the array of synths:

" _Okay, now it's time to tell the truth._

I'm gonna come clean with the fame and the name

Of someone who has gotta take the blame.

For being so stupid, petty and worthless,

That I gotta wonder why I bother to word this.

Her name isn't known, not surprising she's alone

Got her standing here stupid

Like a dog without a bone.

She's someone that you'd easily miss (miss).

A little slip of maiden

Name o' Quen'die Reyliss."

No! That's what that vile creep Venn'lith paid Nam'mi for. He was taking money from her so she could bribe him to humiliate her in front of everyone at this party. There were so many of her classmates there, as well as people whom she had never met before. This foul stunt of hers was going to ruin her social life for the rest of her foreseeable future. No matter how Quen'die abided by the little witch's demands, she would still continue to torment her. The lights of the stage were trained upon her shrinking form for everyone to see that she was the focus of this torture.

She looked over to Lauryl'la and was met by her friend who was stuck gaping her mouth in horror. Behind her was On'dinn Jak'sin along with Tam'laa who were gnashing their teeth in anger and pointing at the performers with vicious fervor. Quen'die could see the rabid politician or legal warden On'dinn would most likely become one day in that instant. She made a note to herself to appreciate his support for her if she lived through this foul event.

At last, she turned to the strange Mavriel. He looked down at her almost as would a priest giving a blessing in a temple. It was the most wonderful buttress she felt during that heinous moment from even her best of friends. He could see the plaintive tears already streaming out of her deep emerald eyes and looked on in them with a profound knowledge. For some instinctive reason, she knew that he would not allow her to endure this terrible episode any longer.

Within the swirl of colors and light pulsing throughout the room, the tall elf clutched her hand with an almost loving grace. It was like smooth velvet with a steel skeleton charged by an abundance of red mana. She had never felt so much sanctuary in her life, not even after she had torn apart her knees on the runta field last year while she wallowed in agony as her father held her hand in the emergency ward. There was something magical about this male and she could not put her finger on it.

He gripped her hand ever harder and, for an instant, she thought she saw his toasty eyes flash a brilliant white, but that may just have been a reflection from one of the spinning lights from overhead. It would be no surprise to her that this elf did something extraordinary. He was such a puzzle, and she knew this upon her first bump with him. This mystery of a lad turned his sights with a slow and deliberate movement to the stage and locked onto the Princes like a hawk to a mouse.

Prince Nam'mi continued his verbal assault nonetheless, but the tune changed on the face of a coin:

" _Whoops! Sorry, I meant you,_

Venn'lith Mitlan.

How could such a little freak

Dare to bribe me?

To pay me, to tempt me

To tell a lie

When this song aims to tell the truth

About a spoiled little brattie

That deceives and is catty

Who can't leave the house

Without asking her Papi

If he would give her some money

' _But of course I will, honey,'_

So you can play a joke that you think may be funny

On an innocent..."

Nam'mi himself couldn't believe his own words flowing from his lips as Quen'die saw that he was vexed as to why he was spouting his diatribe about his employer. As the lyrics turned their focus to the Xochian, the illumination warden swung the lighting rig over her. She was off to the side of the stage as the flashing blue blasts centered on her feral shouting and gesturing form while she made vengeful accusation at the band. She was livid and the crowd was laughing at the backfired plot that was of her own design.

The impromptu song went on at length detailing the heinous lies and scandals Venn'lith had perpetrated while living in Atlantis, as well as her terrible behavior back home in Xo'chi. Tales of animal cruelty, racism, arrogance, a trail of broken hearts and plenty of sabotaged relationships of her "friends" were all accounted for and put to verse for the whole crowd's benefit. Quen'die had to ponder how one person could manage to spend what could only be all day long devising such schemes and this made her wonder if such a force as true evil existed. After all, the elfmaid got whatever she wanted, so it wasn't due to an unfortunate home environment such as On'dinn's or the Zobbos'. If it had been Venn'lith with the Black Hoods that night, she would have made sure all her shots hit their mark just out of the lust for causing pain and woe, she figured.

As the crowd laughed and booed at the spoiled teen fiend, the only retort she could manage was flashing wild and rude gestures with her hands as the booming sound in the room prevented her from giving an audible verbal response. Such an opportunity would have sure to have been a lie to save her face and, to Quen'die's misfortune, half the revelers would have believed her if she had that chance. Quen'die was sure that she would cover her tracks with her peer group through some devious tale by Moonday and Venn'lith would once again be back on her adolescent throne. Until then, however, it was quite the joy to see her past bite her posterior for once. On'dinn Jak'sin was, without a doubt, basking in this display of fine justice for the underdog laid out before him.

It was a fine finale to the act, Quen'die would recount for a long time to come. Especially when the Xochian's rude hand-signaling prompted the most brazen of the crowd to respond by flinging food, drinks and other assorted articles of trash at her. Her harlequin-like gown was further made more clownish with the various stains of offal offered by the revelers. Venn'lith's steely emotions could take no more and Quen'die received the small wish she had been praying for over and over for the last couple of days: Venn'lith burst into tears. Makeup which she had caked on by the pound drizzled in streaks down her face making her appear like a defeated supervillain in one of Kaedish's cartoons. How fortunate such a blessing occurred, Quen'die smiled, her own tears forgotten.

After the show, Quen'die and company were laughing so hard that they had to avoid falling on the sticky ground which was littered with party trash by then. Venn'lith was nowhere to be seen as she had stormed out of sight halfway through her shining moment. Good riddance, Quen'die thought. Even if the sun elf did manage to rectify the situation before Moonday, her classmates and associates would still have her laundry list of crimes in the backs of their minds. It was a usual dismay that people often forget these warnings until it's too late, but that would be a concern for another day. All in all, this had been a fine time, Quen'die enthused.

"Hey!" Cheatsheet blurted. "Isn't this that caramel stuff the Kumari people are always going on about?"

"I think you mean, 'Karma', Cheatsheet," Tam'laa corrected the Zobbo with a laugh.

He nodded with effort. "Oh yeah, 'Karma.' Well, it certainly is a bit..."

"It's bikini-time!" Pumpkin cut her mouthy comrade off to which everyone present agreed with a unanimous cheer. They all wanted to check out Sig'ryn's genuine Thuless'in sauna next to the pool. Quen'die had never been in one, but had been told it was a very relaxing experience and that was what she needed more than anything after the endless volley of emotional ups and downs that night.

Lauryl'la grabbed Quen'die and pulled her away from the group. She had a devilish look in her eyes and Quen'die had a very deep suspicion as to what she was about to suggest. Throughout the show, her best friend had been observing her behaviors and the behaviors of the new addition to the group who continued to mill about with them.

"So, do I have to ask the new guy to come to the sauna with us for you, or are you gonna elf-up and have the spine?" Lauryl'la whispered into her ear as the lights of the party wound down once again to a soothing green.

"Oh, you mean Mavriel?" Quen'die stalled for time.

"No, I meant the big, purple mastodon serving drinks by the door. Of course I mean him!" Lauryl'la chuckled. "Go get him, maiden!"

What harm could it do, she thought? It's not like this male was going to one day be her husband or anything of that sort. Again she reasoned that he didn't go to their school and chances were she wouldn't have to see him again if she found that she didn't like him. There was something almost amazing about him that she couldn't put a finger on. It was almost as if he had orchestrated Venn'lith's musical backfire as the tune had changed the very instant he squeezed her hand. She loved his hands. How something could be so strong and soft at the same time seemed to defy physics and that was just one of the baffles that shrouded him, and the only way to solve a puzzle is to work it. Quen'die needed to cut to brass tacks and just ask him. He was a bit older, so it really wouldn't matter if she made a witticism to impress him, which was something she felt she couldn't muster at that moment. Either way, now was the time.

As expected, his gaze was already locked onto her form as she turned from Lauryl'la. She met his eyes and the bashful feeling she had knotting up her innards melted away the instant she joined them. It was as if the conversation she was about to have with him had already happened. There were no obstacles in her way and she was enveloped in the spirits of well-being; just like on the runta field.

"So Mavriel," Quen'die began with an honest confidence. "Do you want to check out the wonders of ancient Thuless'in sauna design with us?"
A Gateway, a Hope

**T** he sauna's shed looked much like a vaulted beehive formed of the swirling vines which had become a ubiquitous feature of the weird house. Instead of honeycombs, benches lined the curves of the tunnel-like room which ended in a caldera-shaped depression that jutted into the back wall. The strange orifice blew soothing steam out into the room which was controlled to a pleasant frequency by the natural chimneys that snaked out of the ceiling.

The elves disrobed their ancient costuming and hung them on the thorns which served as hooks alongside the sauna's entrance. The female Zobbo "Princess" challenged the hooks by tapping her fingertips on their mean-looking points.

"Ow!" she squealed as the hook broke her skin.

"Aw, what's the matter? Did you break another nail?" Face chided his compatriot.

"No! The hook bit me! Look! I'm bleeding! Well, kinda," she said as she offered her hand to Face for evidence. "Hey! I wonder if I can sue Sig'ryn for plant abuse or something?"

"No, actually you can't," On'dinn broke in and began to lecture. "First off, the wound is so slight that there would be no evidence of trauma by the time you challenged it in a circle of law. Secondly, there is a sign posted above the hooks clearly warning you not to touch them just in case someone gets too curious, like you did."

Princess looked up to the sign which read, " _Be careful! We Bite!_ " To that, she let out a disgruntled moan as Warehouse wrapped a giant arm around her for friendly support. "Aww, I thought I could have won some money! Then I could get that suncasket I've had my eye on and have it installed in my house! Why do you have to be so smart, Brain?"

"Well, you call me 'Brain' for a reason, I suppose," he answered. The elves present laughed at that and Princess batted her lashes which were decorated with little crystals at him again for the thousandth time that night.

Quen'die noticed something even more peculiar about her new friend. As he placed his white robe on a hook, she could tell in the green light of the sauna that it seemed authentic, as if he purchased it from a museum. She was no fashionista like Lauryl'la, but she was savvy enough to see that the stitching and strength of the linen-like fabric was well above the costume-grade rags the rest of the party had rented or had whipped together with various skills. Not to appear too pesky, she snuck a quick look out of the sides of her large eyes to see if the piping along the robe's seams was indeed gold leaf.

Quen'die and company were lucky enough to be the only elves occupying the sauna as many of the party goers were splashing about the pool or raiding the buffet tables outside. Many of the others were just milling about with each other, perhaps hoping to fall in love. No matter their reasons, the sauna was theirs and theirs alone that night.

Lauryl'la and Tam'laa made sure that Quen'die would be sitting next to the new compatriot to their circle of friends as they trotted off to their respective attractions of the night's party with giggling haste. Quen'die looked about the tunnel's seating and saw that On'dinn was sandwiched between Princess and Tam'laa. How that guy attracted so much female attention was a bit funny in her opinion since he was so slight, but she figured the male flexed his brain as much as an elf like Hyrax flexed his muscle. Either way, it was a display of power and prowess and such displays can make one noticed.

Andrex Po'renzy, aka "Cheatsheet" had attached himself to Lauryl'la with a rather aggressive move, and she found the attention quite amusing. They would make a very comical couple since Lauryl'la was, it was decided, the tallest female in her grade, perhaps the whole school, and Andrex may have been the shortest male. He didn't seem to fret over such stature limitations, however, since he made up for it with a beaming sense of humor and a positive attitude.

Monti, Pumpkin and Warehouse were at the far end of the sauna next to the strange blowhole growing from the back wall. She was chattering at a mile a minute about some social concern plaguing her mind at that moment. Her large brother was nodding his massive head in silent agreement and would at times punctuate his taciturnity with a resounding "Yeah!"

As if designed by her friends' strategy, seated next to Quen'die was the calm Mavriel. It was somewhat unsettling that she was paired up with the elf nobody knew. She felt safe as houses with him; that wasn't the problem, she just had to break the ice of unfamiliarity with a newcomer and that could be a bit unnerving. That he had to have been at least two or three years older than her wasn't helping matters much and she wished to herself that she could talk to a male who wasn't so advanced. Nonetheless, she did have an array of questions for him.

"So, did you knock over a museum?" she blurted with a small chuckle.

"What?" her question confused him. "I don't quite follow," he continued as a smile formed on his lips. He may not have much of a sense of humor, she thought, but at least he appeared intrigued.

"Your robe," Quen'die began to explain her jibe. "I know this is an ancient-themed party, but your robe looks like it is seriously about two thousand years old."

"Well, I'm just that good, "Mavriel quipped back. "Yes, I made it myself. I guess I just figured I would do it the right way and go all out."

"Yeah, but is that _real_ gold leaf on its seams?" Quen'die prodded further.

"Something like that," the male just added to the mystery. Quen'die expected that he would cause more confusion with each answer to her questions. With this lad, she didn't mind. Sometimes the unexpected was a welcome treat into her regularly-scheduled life. Not unexpected like the bird-monster she and Lauryl'la encountered the other night or the assassination attempt, but a nice, pleasant enigma in the shape of an elf like Mavriel.

Now that the din of the crowd and the boom of the musical performance had subsided, Quen'die was treated to another question: his accent. He spoke perfect Atlantean, but it was not of a dialect from any of the continent's kingdoms or provinces. His speech was lazy and long whereas all the flavors of her kingdom were short, clipped and a bit guttural to the foreign ear.

"Eh, where are you from, anyway?" Quen'die was becoming a bit self-conscious by then. She didn't mean to pry so much into this lad's life, but she was so curious to his enigma that she could not help it the more she sat with him. The maiden imagined how her mother must have felt on an archeological dig whenever she had discovered some new unearthing from days of yore. Perhaps such curiosity was an inherited trait from the lady.

"Avalon. I'm from Avalon," he answered as if the words were concrete slabs.

That explained the accent. Avalon was adjoined to the north of Xo'chi on the Xo'chi-Avalon supercontinent. At one time, Avalon was a terrible wasteland that was home to the orcs until their eradication about two thousand years ago by a worldwide alliance of elves. All of the elven kingdoms of the earth had put aside their differences and converged upon the continent of those beasts in a final effort to defeat them once and for all. History, or so it was recorded, had shown that her forefathers had no choice but to employ the grim maneuver against an entire species because those beasts would never tire of causing havoc and pain with raid after raid and war after war upon all of elven society. After the final orc stronghold was flattened to dust, elves, many of whom were from Atlantis, began to colonize the land and make new lives for themselves in their new-found home.

Like the trogs, orcs were an altogether separate species from the elves, but they were still sentient, self-aware beings. Some biologists had debated as to whether or not they evolved from the killer whale (hence their name "orc") versus a theory of the wild boar. Many pundits worldwide had admonished the celebrated victory of their forefathers as they had considered it genocide, which, in a technical way, it was. On'dinn Jak'sin was, of course, one such voice of protest and he boycotted with smug pride the O-V Day which honored the heroes of that great conflict. The majority of elves who supported the victory reasoned that it was a "kill or be killed" situation as these antagonists were the attackers. Such truth was lost in antiquity and some theorists had even doubted the existence of the race entirely, but those voices were the subject of general ridicule.

Life was difficult for the pioneers of Avalon. The Avalonians had organized an eventual revolt against their original homeland to the east and then had to contend with numerous "border disputes" with the Xochians to their south. Many Avalonians still considered themselves to be Atlantean, since they could track their heritage back to the great kingdom with relative ease, but the rest of the world looked upon them as a self-contained and, by comparison, new collection of nomadic tribes. The people of Avalon were even nicknamed "plains elves" due to their wandering culture on the tundra and taiga of the Avalonian flatlands. Quen'die, however, didn't think her new acquaintance looked much different than any other grey elf of her kingdom.

To the elves from other lands, Avalonians were deemed a rustic people and that made quite the contrast to their lavish and extravagant Xochian neighbors. Worldwide, Avalon jokes were composed by the less-culturally sensitive gentry, but Quen'die was raised not to behave in such a brutal manner. Besides, she had never met a Avalonian until that night, so how could she judge the unknown? Most people from Avalon were deemed not very cosmopolitan or could not afford to travel the globe often, so a plains elf was a rarity to meet in her kingdom.

"Wow!" Quen'die chirped as she found his origin to be impressive. "I must admit I've never met anyone from Avalon before. Well, not conversationally, anyway. That's so capital! Are you here for the University?"

"I just so happen to be here for the University," Mavriel confirmed her suspicion and Quen'die was so happy to hear this. She thought of this tidbit as an icebreaker because she knew very well that she would go to the University one day and this fact opened up a cornucopia of conversation with the male.

"I guess everybody you meet asks you this, but what's your focus of study?" Quen'die continued her poking of the elf with legitimate wonder.

"Theology," the plains elf answered.

"Oh, Wow!" Quen'die knew she sounded young and astounded, but she just couldn't douse the feeling of excitement with this lad. Anyone who could tackle the unseen notions of religion had to have a brain that rivaled On'dinn Jak'sin's. Handsome and smart. She could see without any dispute the intelligence in his eyes the moment she met them, but it wasn't the brick-and-mortar intellect of facts and figures that someone like she or her parents possessed. Religion was speculation, creativity and a wellspring of imagination. One who studied it had to surmise not only the unknown, but the unknowable. Quen'die had never fancied her brain to be that creative, and it was another one of her goals in life; to think in a more creative manner. "Do you want to become a priest or something?"

"Something like that," Mavriel continued to confound the maiden and she was beginning to wonder if he was doing it on purpose.

"Well, what god is your concentration?" she couldn't contain her interest.

"It's my first year at the school, so I'm basically surveying the entire pantheon, but I think I am most interested in the big one. Ui."

"The Creator? But what would you do with that? We don't even build temples to Him." Quen'die was correct about that fact. Elves lived with a one-world religion which was managed by twelve gods who oversaw different aspects of the earth. Some gods supervised fire, or the sky, or the oceans and water, and so on. Depending on where one lived or their trade, an elf paid their worship to the god or goddess that influenced their life the most. Ui was the Creator and He was not considered part of the pantheon because He didn't listen to prayers and such. He more or less created and went on His way throughout the universe creating. Many elves believed that He loved them as did the other gods, but such concerns were not a part of His influence.

"Plenty," he answered with self-assurance. "There are many applications to the study of Ui. Mainly the origin of your, er, I mean _our_ species and society and things like that."

"My mother studies that kind of stuff." Quen'die hoped that such a fact would impress the elf. She was feeling her competitive streak fire up in her brain again and she wanted to climb her way onto his intellectual playing field. "She works as a faethropologist over at the Circle of Climate and Environment. As a matter-of-fact, she's going to Mars on expedition eventually to survey any possible lost cultures from the planet. That's pretty capital, huh?"

"Very," Mavriel answered, although Quen'die couldn't discern if her attempt to impress took hold. The male was playing coy she thought, unless she, in truth, did not amuse him. She had hoped for the former and felt compelled to continue the conversational spelunking.

"So, is Avalon getting in on the race to Mars?" Quen'die knew the answer to this question, but she was trying her best to keep the ball rolling. There was so much about this guy that she liked beyond him being easy on her eyes; she had to know more.

"Avalon? Ha! I'm surprised we even drive coaches much less fly a godswheel that could launch us into space. No, as far as I know only your people and the Kumaris corner that market."

Quen'die detected a touch of pride and sarcasm in his answer and she feared that she had made a flub. Avalon was not a wealthy collection of people by any standard, and to suppose that they had the resources to fund a godswheel program was quite cavalier of her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean...," she saved herself as fast possible. "Look, your people will develop one or something like it sooner or later. Such a technology is a rarity to occur so far."

"No," the Avalonian answered. "I didn't take any offense. If anything, I could say I'm a bit jealous. Avalon is far off the map when it comes to the latest and greatest. We're still getting our feet wet in many areas that you've had well-developed for hundreds of years. Comparatively, we're a new nation, but we aren't exactly a bunch of hicks; just so you know."

"No, Mavriel!" she stopped him. "I certainly don't view you in that way. Actually, I think you are pretty intimidating in many ways." The maiden couldn't believe she admitted that, but it made her feel good inside to be honest with her feelings. This was the kind of elf that would appreciate such an attitude, she could tell. From her knowledge of Avalon, the people there were simple and honest, if not a bit gullible.

"It's all right," he assured her. "I sincerely took no offense. If you're worried that I find you snobbish, I don't."

Quen'die was more than grateful for that. Sometimes she was too sensitive about being sensitive, if that made any sense. Ever since the end of the Tel'lemurian conflict, Atlantis had been very touchy about other societies and cultures. Almost too careful, some thought, but Quen'die disagreed with that philosophy for the most part. Elves all over the world were different and she enjoyed such differences and felt that those interesting flavors should be respected and preserved. After all, her mother was paid to supervise such cultural sanctuary. Mavriel's own Avalonian flavor was a large selling point to her.

"Well, if there is one thing I am sure we both have, it's those weird pyramids," Quen'die changed the subject. "Corosa City has four of them right outside of town!" So much had happened to her this week that she had made little consideration of them, most of all, after sighting the strange winged apparition on the bluffs.

"Yes, we have them," Mavriel confirmed. "They're all over the world, as far as I know. As a matter-of-fact, there is one practically in my parent's back yard."

"Really?" Quen'die was stunned. "Are you worried about them?"

"Very," her new friend admitted with grim stoniness. "Those things are bad news. I can sense it."

He wasn't overreacting in his answer. Quen'die could detect a grave concern in his voice and this made her worry about them in all actuality for the first time since the quakes. What if the reporters on the news did indeed know something about what was in them that they were too afraid to let the public know about, she wondered? Time after time, all the newsscrolls and broadcasts would feature those monoliths just sitting there with their blinking lights while some eggheads would argue over some new conspiracy every day. It was as if every channel on the screen was "The Pyramid Channel" and it all became numbing after a short while.

"Why? Do you have any sort of theological perspective on it?" It was clear to Mavriel that she was sharing his worry now and wanted an opinion from someone other than the famed reporter Quay'liss Dalian.

"I suppose you could say that I do, but it's kind of complex." He huffed out some air in exasperation and looked straight ahead. For the flash of an instant, Quen'die thought he looked so old and almost tired.

"Well, I'm all ears," Quen'die prodded him on.

"I'll tell you what, give me your phone number and we can discuss this matter later. Promise." He turned back to her and gave her a wink and a smile. Either way, he wanted to change the conversation to something of less gravity.

It was unbelievable. Quen'die was being asked for her number by a university student. She knew she had to respond without a skip, or else her nerves would be more than evident to this lad. She could tell he was as genuine about getting that number as he was fretful about the pyramids. So many factors plagued her mind. What would her parents think about this arrangement if they found out an older male was calling her? Mother would approve and maybe even encourage it. Father, on the other hand, would be sure to faint. To be honest, Father would faint if he saw a cockroach, so it appeared. This was one of those instances where Quen'die realized she needed to show some more backbone, and backbone she would show.

"Okay!" she responded with much enthusiasm. "Here, let me get my phone and I'll send it to yours."

"Great!" Mavriel was pleased, she could see, with her immediate gesture, even though Quen'die feared she may have looked too desperate. One of these days, she figured she would master the art of playing hard to get, but with this elf she didn't want to waste much time. It almost seemed an imperative by a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that they at least remain friends.

"One thing you must know," the elf began. "I'm staying in a youth hostel temporarily because our dorms got evacuated after the quakes hit."

"Oh, right. I understand," Quen'die said. "Must be pretty dingy in one of those, huh?"

"Yeah, the food is terrible and there are plenty of big bugs crawling around, but the housewarden is really nice," he answered to that with a feigned shudder of disgust.

"Yo! Red!" Monti chimed over to her from down the sauna. "That tattoo you have is really capital. I didn't know you were the type to get one." Quen'die wondered why Monti was trying to catch glimpses of her ever since she had disrobed the gown.

"Oh, this?" She stood up from the bench and pointed to the infinity-shaped blemish on her belly below her navel. The maiden noticed that Mavriel was studying it like her mother would ancient crockery. "No, that's a birthmark, Face."

"You should get that worked over at a shop downtown. I know this lady who is an amazing artist. She does all of mine," he advised. "Look at all these! They're the best!" Monti stood up and posed in order to give everyone present a vain exhibition of his ink and muscles. Some of the work was temporary henna and some of it was permanent cuttlefish ink. Most of it was a gallery of machismo with designs such as skulls and flames. Everyone was rolling their eyes and laughing at his impromptu biological art gallery.

"That isn't the first time someone said that in the last twenty-four hours, Face." Quen'die looked over to Lauryl'la who met her glance with yet another eye roll and a smirk.

"I think you should just leave it as is," Mavriel commented. His tone sounded strange, almost as if altering it in any way was a matter of national security.

"Yeah, I suppose. I've always wanted to get some ink, but I don't know how my parents would react," she admitted to him and felt very young again the second after she said that. Sometimes she needed to watch what she blurted and think about how others might respond. This kind of sociability was so new to her and she reasoned that she would figure it all out one day; at least the important stuff.

"Speaking of blemishes," Quen'die pointed to the bandage wrapped around Mavriel's wrist. "What happened to your arm?"

"That was an accident I had in the kitchen," he explained. "I got a bit of a grease burn. That's all."

"Oh, sorry to hear that," she said.

A recent fashion for many young elves throughout the kingdom was the cutting and burning of themselves and it had developed into something of a self-destructive craze. Quen'die had to wonder when she saw the wrapping if Mavriel was one of that multitude, but he seemed to hold himself with too much confidence and calm that such a behavior out of him figured most unlikely.

"Hey, everyone," Monti interrupted the group once again. "Let's scram, guys. I'm so tired already and this sauna is making me doze off."

After collecting all of their personables, the elves navigated their way through the tunnels of Sig'ryn's treehouse. They chatted with each other as they journeyed to the main lift about what a great time they had and gossiped about Venn'lith. As the group crossed the games' room, their way was blocked by a trio of elves.

"I think - I think I smell Zobbo stink," Hyrax Arcovis slurred from his sloppy lips. Garb'ann was still holding him upright as the immense amount of alcohol he had consumed that night made such a stance almost impossible for him. The look on his face was murderous. Ferd'inn haughtily and, perhaps through his duty to his alpha male, chuckled at his friend's drunken jibe. He held his tablet aloft which was loaded with stats and figures of the sunwheel games' winnings from earlier that night.

"Oh yeah?" Cheatsheet challenged. "How about I help you with that when I rip your nose off your face?" The young Zobbo stepped in front of Lauryl'la and blocked her in a protective manner with his squat frame. Mavriel held him back with his hand. Quen'die took note of this gesture and was pleased to see his instant reaction of pacification. When she looked at her new friend's grim face, she saw it relax in an instant and, once again, she could have sworn that his eyes flashed.

Hyrax turned his head and, in one movement, vomited square in Garb'ann's face. His oafish friend took the full brunt of the regurgitated alcohol he had consumed all night long and he looked like he was going to die from the utterly foul experience. Ferd'inn Kokoff's eyes widened to the size of discuses as he clutched his tablet across his chest to guard it from Hyrax's flash.

"Gods! I'm gonna puke!" The dapper young elf ran off from his friends; his long legs stomping through the games' room to the nearest lavatory. As his comrade spirited off, Garb'ann's bewildered eyes rolled back into his head as he fell down on his back in a faint. His limited brain could not process the shock of what had just happened to him as it was beyond his belief. Hyrax's intestinal muck covered his entire face and flooded his senses. With no toady to hold him for support, Hyrax too fell down across the body of his unconscious comrade.

"That is _so_ disgusting!" Princess squealed as she jumped up and down in imagined pain. "I hate barf! I hate barf!"

"Me too," On'dinn agreed as his face folded into menace. "That is, except when it's on a moronic troll like Tal'liss Garb'ann." The young elf strode over to his bully from a few days before and lorded over his slumped form. "Payback is _always_ around the corner, _idiot._ "

"Yeah," Monti joined him. "Goodnight, sweet princes. Hope you had a great time!" With that, he gave Hyrax a swift kick to his side. Monti was no stranger to Hyrax's gibes and monkey shines either as the elitist runta captain gave the Zobbo a hard time quite often due to his poverty.

Pumpkin packed her own farewell to the fainted pair. "Looking really good, guys. Looking _really_ good."

So many revelations had reared their heads tonight for Quen'die. Hyrax Arcovis was nothing but a drunken bully who tormented some genuine and decent people. No matter what his accolades or his pretty face could hide, underneath it all he was no better than a freak like that Travius who tried to kill the king as far as she was concerned. Venn'lith could, without a doubt, have him for all she cared and the two made the perfect vile couple. It was certain to Quen'die this event would have its consequences for her come runta season, but that was far off and maybe things would turn around for the better by then. The night was over and it had its close calls, but over all she had an excellent evening.

Outside in the courtyard, the group was saying their respective goodbyes. The Zobbos filed into their utility coach and Tam'laa hopped into her convertible with On'dinn.

"See you all until later, guys" Tam'laa chimed out from the open cab. "I need to take this vagabond home before his father forgets he ever existed." To that, On'dinn raised a silent hand signaling his goodbye. He was trying to hide a smile from his face in order to appear aloof, but the act was failing as his mouth was bursting with glee.

"What about you, Mavriel?" Quen'die asked. She had hoped deep in her soul that he would offer to go back with her and Lauryl'la, but that was also a scary notion. No matter what kind of connection she felt with this elf, he was still a stranger when it came down to brass tacks.

"I'm going to hop the tram downtown," he informed her as he gestured with his thumb in the direction of the city's center. "I have a few things I need to do tonight when I get back. Classes resume on Moonday, you know."

"Eww, don't remind me," Lauryl'la responded to that with a contrived wince. "I was spoiled with this surprise vacation. It almost feels like I'm an adult or something." An offer of a ride to the plains elf was on the edges of Lauryl'la's lips until it was cut off.

"Hey!" Cheatsheet shouted from the cab of the Zobbo's coach to her. He made an invisible manaphone with his thumb and little finger. "Call me up!"

"Yeah! I will!" Quen'die's friend seemed excited at the prospect of seeing the little Zobbo again. They would make a cute, if rather odd couple if it worked out, but knowing the capricious nature of both Lauryl'la and the Zobbos, such a pairing would be fleeting at the most. Perhaps it was best Cheatsheet had interrupted, Quen'die considered. To see Lauryl'la happy like that was well deserved for the wonderful night to which she had treated her. Mavriel could wait until later; after all, she now had his number.

"Until later then, Rylla Gorilla," Cheatsheet flirted as he slapped the door of the coach.

"Andrex," Lauryl'la called back in an almost motherly tone with one eyebrow raised. "You're really cute and all, but don't ever call me that again."
Venn'lith's Week of Blunders

**H** er scream resounded throughout the spacious bathroom and was only accentuated by the giant clam shell which formed the tub. Ever since fleeing the party earlier that night, she had let out these pained caterwauls at least a dozen times. The only thing that felt tolerable to her was the feeling of getting the muck of the party off her skin. Fruit, alcohol, elixirs and the gods-only-knew-what other varieties of filth were pelted by those vile elves at Sig'ryn's. To have such a stink permeate her coach on the frantic way home only formed a just cause to junk the coupe and shop for another one. How she would explain the reason to her father would have to wait as her mind was consumed by schemes of revenge.

Just outside the marble bathroom, Ping was stifling sobs while doubled over as Venn'lith had been compelled to thrash her stomach in an effort to release the night's tension. Thoughts of running back home to Tel'lemuria were always in the back of the sea elf's mind, but now they were up front and center. Was imprisonment in the salt mines of Mongg for something she didn't do preferable to this lavish torture? It was true, many beatings would be bestowed upon her and at a higher frequency for perceived offenses there, but with Venn'lith, those beatings were so personal, and that was a consideration to weigh. If all else failed, there was the arsenic she had been stowing away, but would even the Atlantean dungeons be a better arrangement than this, she wondered?

Venn'lith too was sobbing as she nursed her broken ego between bouts of screaming. Her heavy makeup which she had applied for tonight's appearance was still streaming down her face and she had to check and double-check for any last vestiges of streaking. Perhaps next time it would be better to go for a more natural look, but that would be admitting defeat and relenting to the machinations of those traitorous fools who dared to call themselves her friends. It was only the money and glamour that they liked. It was only the close proximity of reveling in a luxury that they just were not born to ever have, no matter how hard they tried. Even Sig'ryn's and Ferd'inn Kokoff's family fortunes were no match for the Mitlan's and they too knew it.

People from all walks underneath hers love abuse, the sun elf mused. Why would someone like Ping persist with her behavior without protest, much less quitting or running away back to her primitive land? Why would her classmates, male and female alike, boomerang right back to her even after she had smeared them across the walls and the halls of the school? Self-loathing was the only answer to her philosophy, and she figured that doling out such pain was all a part of the job of being Venn'lith. Revenge, on the other hand, was not a simple social test, but a gallant beast that needed grooming and proper care. The main question was: who was responsible for the repulsive spectacle made of her earlier tonight?

So many possibilities for fault were apparent that night as she backtracked though the events while she smeared liquid mana on her skin in order to exfoliate. Although the water was hot, her heart was cold and that, of course, was when revenge was best served. Venn'lith prided herself on leaving behind the insurmountable odds against her at that party. She figured that she could have done something of spectacular crudeness within eyeshot of all her moronic peers, but that would have been déclassé at best. Aside from being bad form, payback needed planning and precision or else the guilty party may flee scot free and she could remain none the wiser. Her father dealt with this sort of thing and dealt with it well at least once a month with his mergers and corporate takeovers. Such success was not attained though a wonton tantrum. Why was she surrounded by such simple, stupid people, she lamented? Her compatriots back home held themselves with so much more class than these Atlantean barbarians, although she hated them too.

Once the bath was finished and she had collected herself in full, she found herself more in a mood to get on that phone and begin making the calls to the proper channels; if there were any left. Venn'lith considered it fortunate that her father was off on a dinner date with some lady from one of the circles. They all loved his Xochian charm, and more so, his success. Ever since her birth mother died when she was but an elfling, he had treated her to two different step-mothers. The last of them was hospitalized from a nervous breakdown all thanks to the elfmaid's designs. It would not be long before she had a new one, she assumed, but she hoped that Father would at least wait until she was off at a university somewhere before he did. Father did have a way with the ladies, however, and to hope for such a delay in his appetite for the opposite sex was the washiest of wishes.

" _Ping_! Robe and lotions! _Now_!" she screeched within the echo of the bathroom. She wasn't angry with her anymore, she just needed to engage in some detective work now that she had composed herself better, and timing was of the essence. So many forces were working against her at that moment that she needed to make sure she had the initiative. Classes resumed Moonday, and the last thing Venn'lith needed was a repeat of the night's travesty lasting up until the end of the school year.

After she had covered herself and dried off without an apology to the housewarden for tonight's beating, she rushed her way to her bedroom and spied her phone lying on her leopardskin bedspread where she had flung it earlier in a rage. For the most part, she was not afraid of other people as they were lesser lives and their deficit wasn't anything to worry about in her opinion, but at that moment, she feared that a volley of taunts and abuses were waiting for her in her inbox as these people felt they for once had the power to exercise their jealousy of her.

Jealousy. That was the core of their behavior toward her tonight, she thought as she pulled the mudscrub off her face. There were no blemishes to be seen, as always, and that made her feel a bit lifted for the task to come. It mattered not what the Princes listed in their pathetic song about her that enraged the crowd, it was their reptilian wish to see someone who had everything their tiny hearts desired be knocked down a peg and nothing more.

With a touch of apprehension, Venn'lith stared at the solid solitude of the manaphone on the covers after she had applied a light amount of makeup. Her worry made the device seem far away, but she, with much haste, put that anxiety behind her as such feelings were the enemy to success, and succeed she would.

Just as the maiden had expected, the list of inbox messages was spiraling out of control. Upon viewing the headers of the mail, she could see that many of them promised an insulting report. Every one of those names that carried such dismal sentiment were saved without the skip of a beat and cataloged for an eventual reprisal. Of the hundred or so calls, at least ninety percent of them sparked in her mind the insectoid pang of rage upon her quick perusal:

"Hey Lith, you got what was coming."- Menn'die Quel'ya

"You looked like a clown tonight. Glad to help you with your makeup!"- Pinn Dor'maa

"Good riddance to bad trash."- Gai Ro'dann

"Awww, did the widdle elfwing get her feewings hurt?"- Cad'die Bel'acqua

"It's all fun and games until someone gets trash in her hair."- Mad'die Bel'acqua

"Good. I hate you."- Lauryl'la Hay'cenn

"You're fat."- Sinti Dell'lavio

That was the last straw; she burned as the expensive model sailed across the bedroom and lodged itself with true aim into the stucco wall. Its speaker was still exposed and it wailed its announcement of malfunction - " _Manalink severed! Manalink severed!_ "

" _Good_! I hate you too! And I'm not _FAAAT_!" she screamed at the now-derelict half of the phone. With that, she hopped over to her gigantic mirror in a frenzy to double-check her dimensions and saw that the message was an envious lie. Her form was perfect, so she could tell, as not one excess ounce of skin could be tugged from it and such an accusation must have been made by a female whose body was probably the consistency of cottage cheese.

It was certain that Ping would require another beating if she read one more file from that dreaded inbox, but she needed to collect herself once again and check to see if all that smelled was not spice. Perhaps there was a benevolent voice amongst all of that green-eyed spite.

From out of her dresser, she chose another phone from the twenty or so backups and readied herself for a replay of the assault of malice. With a deep breath, she activated an older, less-advanced model which sang its tune of greeting.

With her bottom lip between her perfect teeth, she did see a ray of light in the foul gloom. It was a message header from Ferd'inn Kokoff. She had never minded him that much as he was one of Hyrax' best friends and he drove a nice convertible coach. He wasn't even close to being as cute as Hyrax, but at least he wasn't a sloppy drunk like the runta champ. There was no doubt that the young elf carried some form of a crush for her, what male didn't, but he was a little more tolerable than many of the lads at her school with their pathetic offers of their affections. Ferd'inn carried an ambience of class and poise which even Hyrax couldn't match. After all, Hyrax wasn't that wealthy by any means and that detracted from his ability to have some of the better experiences in life that she and Ferd'inn could afford. Hyrax was just a pretty face for the time being, whereas Ferd'inn was someone whom she could better relate to. For instance, he was much better traveled and had visited many different kingdoms in his sixteen years, whereas Hyrax had barely even left Corosa City's environs.

Speaking of Hyrax, he had indeed left her an inebriated sweet-nothing on her phone: "Oh my drunk, I'm god..."

Whatever, she thought. If ever there was a big loser that night, it was him. When he had imbibed his fourth stein of mead in the matter of a half hour, she began to raise her latticed eyebrows. When he began to slur his speech, she began to wonder if he did this kind of thing often, but when he first fell off the sunwheel stool which required Garb'ann to hold him upright, she had become disgusted with his behavior and smell and sashayed elsewhere. Many had accused her of desultory actions in her life, but that was a scene that she did not want to associate herself with as it signified the making of bums and burnouts.

Ferd'inn's message was intriguing to say the least: "Lith, we have to meet tonight. I'm so sorry for what happened to you and I know you probably need someone to talk to. Got some weird stuff to tell you. Meet me at the Sea and Shell if interested."

What could be weirder than total public humiliation, Venn'lith wondered? Ferd'inn may have some answers to more of her questions and perhaps he would be so kind as to accomplice in her revenge, but she needed more information. She hoped he at least had an inkling of it. If she let the male in on her schemes, he would have to be the one and only. Too many confidants spoiled the plan as so many lips were loose. That was another parcel of advice her father had learned in his cutthroat industry.

She went over to one of her massive closets and chose an elegant white mohair camisole that was collared with albino rhea down. Except for sports gear, everything she wore was extravagant, even casual wear for late-night jaunts to the coffee shop. So many Atlantean females would dress down in public like they thought that they were so beautiful that they could make a go of it with ease. The majority of them were dead wrong about such notions.

Beating Ping again was no longer a priority for Venn'lith, so the young sea elf was spared further bodily harm that night. The Xochian could waste little more time and cast her coach to life; peeling out of her estate's courtyard causing the vehicle's mana to make a nerve-shattering howl. " _DONK!"_

The cab still smelled like the floor of a nightclub mingled with the alley of a brothel. The teen had so much trash thrown on her that the mixture of foul odors was lingering in her mind and she expected that they would not leave it for days to come. What a horrible development, she thought as her eyes widened trancelike to blot out the olfactory memory.

" _Capso olla gouf_!" she chanted with a growl to the cab as it sprayed relieving perfumes of minty orange into the coach's fuselage. Yes, she would be certain to have to beg Father to buy her a new one as the stink of that humiliation would never leave this particular model. Not even their coachmaster would be able to dispel the skunkish reek of her blunder that night. How she would cover her odorous story to _Papi_ would have to wait until later. He was easy to convince as she was his only jewel of the tropics. One plan at a time, she noted, and the plan at hand was revenge. First on the methodical list of the to-be-fallen were the Gonduanna Princes. They messed up big time as far as Venn'lith was concerned. While steering the coach's trackball with one hand, she slapped her spare manaphone with all the might of She'vashh, the god of revenge himself against her hip.

Youf Mal'maa was the recording executive of Garma Music who represented the Gonduanna Princes. The corpulent Kamdenite was responsible for launching many a career in the field of contemporary barddom. Acts from all over the world in genres of various flavors were indebted to the mogul for their renown and success. He was the winner of many musical and industry awards, as was the talent in his tightly-controlled stable. Never was he a lord to be crossed, as he could break an entire career with one phone call, and today he would make such a break.

"Ah, Lith! What a surprise to hear from you!" he greeted in his rolling Kamdenite tongue, of which the sun elf teen was fluent. "It must be, eh, 4 a.m. over where you are. Do you have an emergency, my dear?" At his company headquarters in the city of Luzz, it was already a bright, sunny morning in the tropical oasis, save for their own pyramid's shadow which was blocking the wonderful view of his corner office.

"You can bet I have an emergency!" she screeched to the friend of her family. "The Gonduanna Princes _publically_ humiliated me in front of a crowd of at least, eh, a _thousand_ elves!" She lied with that figure, as there were only about six hundred soaking wet that night, but a little embellishment never hurt to pack in the message.

"My dearest Lith, no! They would never..." Venn'lith had no time for this excuse from the fat tycoon as the Princes' career in music had to end posthaste. It was imperative.

"Oh yes they _would_!" she broke into sobs which were somewhat genuine. All the events of tonight's disgrace were dredged from the front of her mind to cull more tears. It was a rather easy ploy for a manipulative maiden like her. "They made the whole crowd... Oh, I can't say it," she continued to bawl her woe into the high elf's chubby ears half the world away.

"Listen, my little...," his term of endearment was severed.

"J-Just finish them! _Now_!" her scream could not be suppressed with success by the manaflow as the timbre of her voice squelched over the link. "They threw trash at me and ruined my gown in front of everyone for _no reason_! They even made me the subject of tonight's version of _Tell the Truth!_ "

"Venn'lith," he began with an air of professionalism. "I just cannot merely disengage an entire business relationship with those lads. They are some of my biggest moneymakers worldwide! Practically all of elfdom loves the Princes! They are even a huge hit up in Avalon! No, I cannot do this."

"Oh, but you _will_ do this or my father will make sure that you are back on the street corners of Luzz playing the _SPOONS_!" she peaked the connection again with that wail.

Youf came from humble beginnings and she knew that he feared ever retuning to them. This was not an idle threat either, as Centeo Mitlan funded over sixty percent of Garma Music's holdings worldwide. Whether or not she could convince her _Papi_ to pull that financial plug on the mogul's lucrative operation remained to be seen, but if she recounted the Princes' behavior to him in detail, Youf would, without a doubt, get an earful from the Xochian lord. "You have until today to finish them! If I even see one of their tunes posted for sale at so much as a single Manamart site by sundown, I am going straight to my father!"

With just a little more convincing via threat to his livelihood, the high elf relented to the petite demon's demands. With a heavy heart and an elephantine pang of professional regret, Youf hung up with the teen and made the fateful call to the manabank which provided the uplink to all the corporation's music files for distribution and sale. By 3 p.m. that afternoon, never again were the sounds of The Gonduanna Princes able to be bought or sold on the open market. All over the world, elves were confused and dismayed to see that their screens, phones, and any other media devices that had their music stored on them were wiped clean from the flow. From that day foreword, the Princes' sounds could only be hummed from the lips of those that remembered them all because a spoiled maiden got her feelings hurt. By 4 p.m. that same day, small youth-led riots popped across the globe here and there demanding the Princes' return, but such uprisings were quashed by various methods depending on the municipality. In the icy city of Lap'paa, Thuless'in, Borggi Dom'hulder (age seventeen) was shot and killed by an overzealous civil warden in the courtyard of their local Manamart during one such riot. That particular warden soon received a promotion despite much public outcry. As history had shown, however, Thuless'in had never been famous for its civil rights.

As Venn'lith sped at dizzying speeds though the highways skirting the city, she felt a nagging feeling of being followed. Upon adjusting her rearview mirror, she could see the shape of a municipal flitcycle tailing her with its lights a complete dark in the cobalt-blue gloaming of the hours of the last watches. With a defiant cry, the maiden accelerated her coach while the warden matched her speed. "Let the bull read my tags," she growled through gritted teeth. "My father practically owns the civil wardens too!"

It was apparent the warden did exactly that, as after a few moments of chase he sped over to her side. From under his armored visor, he raised his gloved hand with a dutiful farewell: _all clear_. Venn'lith was immune to his law enforcement for such trivial matters as driving too fast and she knew it. She met his goodbye by shooting him a rude gesture to which he flew off in the other direction in hopes of nabbing someone who had no such disclaimers. She was born with societal powers above most of the gentry and such power she took for granted by this segment of her life.

"Ferd'inn, are you there already?" she called into her phone with the sharp authority she had often used with her male peers. It was always good to hold the upper hand with the lads because they underestimated her while they tried their best to keep their lecherous thoughts of her at bay.

"Hey! Lith! Yeah, I'm already at the S and S. It isn't too terribly crowded at this hour, so that will allow us to talk." Ferd'inn was always the most rational of Hyrax's "Terrible Trio" and spending some time colluding with him tonight might be just what the doctor ordered. It could always be worse; she could be stuck speaking with the monosyllabic Garb'ann.

"Good. Can you recognize any of those fools from the party tonight over there?" The last thing Venn'lith needed was a rehash of tonight's trashing by getting her lovely sweater doused with mochas from the patronage. Of course, if that were to happen, she and Ferd'inn would be ready and more in control of the situation. That travesty from earlier tonight was blindsiding and she was caught off her guard. Now she was more aware than ever of her surroundings and those surroundings she would make sure to master.

With some pause, Ferd'inn scanned the café. "No, I think all those guys are either passed out or asleep by now. The only group I can see is a clutch of Communals down from the grape vineyards. Stinking the place up, of course, so do bring some perfume."

"No amount of any scent will kill the stink of a Communal, Ferd'inn," she said with her spite for the political group.

"This is true," he agreed with his usual haughtiness.

"Whatever. I'll be there in five," she slapped the phone asleep while maintaining her dangerous speed.

The Sea and Shell Trading Company was all but empty at that hour of the early morning as Ferd'inn had reported. The blue ambience of the approaching day contrasted in beautiful wonder with the warm yellow and orange glows of the café as the temperature changed with a rapid rise to create a film of dewy steam that covered the windows of the establishment. Venn'lith was exhausted in body and in soul from all the drama the night had punished her with, and the café's somber atmosphere was even more lulling. It was almost like going to an early morning funeral at the temple of the dead; an event she never wanted to partake in any time soon. Regardless, there was too much to learn and too much to be done if she was ever going to put this situation right by Moonday when school resumed. She needed coffee and chocolate and she needed it hours ago.

Ferd'inn was sitting in the back of the café over by the bistro's archway tapping and chanting into his tablet various facts and figures of importance. The elf seemed to have a surgical attachment to that thing and it was something of a chore to rend him from it. As he had warned, a grubby collection of the proletariat Communals was huddled in the bistro discussing whatever self-important revolution they wanted to spark. One of their numbers, a skinny female with long dreaded hair wrapped in a multicolored scarf had a lute with her. Venn'lith vowed that if she so much as struck one chord on that thing that she would saunter over there, rip it from her hands and bash it over her malodorous head. It was much too early in the morning for music of any sort, but the worst of all was the acoustic whinging from a Communal.

"Good morning to you, Ferd'inn," she began with mock sweetness. "By the gods, it smells like an _armpit_ in here!" she finished with a menacing bark directed at the Communals beyond the arch.

Ferd'inn chuckled at his comrade's angry wit. "Well, well... I see you are in rare form, my dear. And you look amazing!" He was quite honest in his critique as she could tell by the gleam in his eyes from behind his circular spectacles.

Not long after sitting down, Venn'lith was greeted by a barista from the café's bar. She looked like she had been through the wringer and possessed a dazed look in her eyes. Her short hair was unfashionable in length and seemed as if it hadn't been washed in a couple of days and the sun elf assumed that she was addicted so some form of narcotic. Under usual circumstances, she would not touch anything served to her by such a wretched being, but she needed the rousing bolt to the senses that only the caffeine of coffee and chocolate could deliver. The barista moaned a request for her order but could barely open her mouth while doing it. Her nametag read "Minnie."

"Eh...Tangerine mocha. Large," the Xochian ordered as she flashed the barista a rude and unabashed look of disgust mixed with suspicion. "Oh, and try not to touch it with your hands, either."

"Tangerine...mocha...large...don't...touch," the zonked barista parroted, never blinking.

"Looks like someone's been getting into the lotus juice, eh?" Venn'lith assumed to her friend.

"Yeah! Isn't that weird? She's been like that all night. She's definitely on something," he agreed in a hushed tone. Ferd'inn was a bit more inconspicuous than Hyrax or Venn'lith with his elitist attitude at times. "These kinds of places will hire any dreg from society."

"This is true," the sun elf intoned while still looking at the zombie-like shamble of the employee. "Thank the gods I don't have to work. If I had a job like this, I too would have to indulge in some manner of emotional assistance. The drudgery must be torture."

"Speaking of bad habits," Venn'lith said as she pulled a slim jade pipe from her purse which she inserted into her mouth with a loud clack.

"Why do you bother with that thing?" Ferd'inn rolled his eyes at her pretentious prop. "You don't even smoke!" Sometimes Venn'lith could be something of a pomp, not that he could argue against his own dandyism, but now and again his own idiosyncrasies could be quite an annoyance when performed by others.

"I'm, eh...what do you call it? I'm orally fixated or something. My mother died when I was an elfling," she shrugged.

Rema Mitlan was Centeo Mitlan's first wife and Venn'lith's mother. She passed away due to an apparent coach accident when Venn'lith was three years old. Although it was in bad form, her father had replaced her almost a month later with a new stepmother. Because of this, many rumors about the precise nature of Rema's demise had wafted throughout the upper social circles back home in Xo'chi, as many of Centeo's associates were suspicious. The young maiden had claimed that her mother's funeral was her first memory. Her father's peers and associates had surmised that her somewhat disagreeable nature had stemmed from this event, but the maiden disputed with such suppositions. Those were the voices of sycophantic losers who were vultures to her family's name and such people would love nothing more than to take their petty jabs to assert what little power they felt they had.

"Hmm...I'll give up my tablet if you give up your pipe," Ferd'inn half-joked.

"Exactly," she doused his challenge. Why in the Nine Hells she would bother divulging such weakness and personal disclosure to a mere school chum was nagging the back of her mind with some regret. Venn'lith hoped she wasn't developing some semblance of affection for this scrollworm now that Hyrax had been revealed to be a complete loss.

"So anyway," her friend leaned in. "After you stormed out, things got really weird at that party."

She straightened up her posture in defense. "I'm listening."

"We were all up at the sunwheel tables. I really wanted to catch the Princes, but we had to nurse dear Hyrax. He got even drunker and, by that time, I said to him and Garb'ann that we had to leave before the lad got liquor poisoning. Besides, it was in bad form and I was getting embarrassed by it all. Then up strolls - guess who?" Ferd'inn's eyes lit up.

"Let me guess. Her name rhymes with trash." Her chocolate eyes turned stygian. It was a clear autonomic sign when Venn'lith was disturbed.

"You got it, friend. Quen'die Reyliss and a gaggle of sunbaked Zobbos," he packed in his info with a cocky snap.

"Typical of the little wench to commiserate with such muck." Thinking about her was beginning to make her blood boil because she had a dreadful suspicion that her plan from earlier tonight was compromised by the red-headed maiden.

"But there was this other guy with them whom I've never met. This tall, blond lad. He looked a bit older, like he may be at University. It was so weird. Hyrax tried to start some drama with them, and this newcomer tried to break it up. He was obviously with Quen'die. Then, I swear to the twelve gods that his eyes flashed with a strange light and that was when..." Ferd'inn's delicate sensibilities couldn't take the vile memory of Hyrax's circus of vomit.

"What happened?" her eyes widened with curiosity.

"Hyrax puked square into Garb'ann's face on cue." He slumped back into his seat to pack in the point.

The Xochian couldn't stop tittering. She even let her guard down and let out a couple of snorts. It was all too hilarious. Hyrax deserved every bit of it and anyone who really knew him would say the same. Even his "loyal" friend met her chuckles and they shared that moment of mirth in the dawning of the new cloudy day from beyond the window.

Her tone changed almost with a snap. It was her! It had to be. Quen'die Reyliss. "I have to do something about Quen'die."

"What? Quen'die?" Ferd'inn gave the sun-maiden a plaintive look of disbelief. "Nah...she had nothing to do with that. What kind of influence could that little scamp have?"

"That is a good question, but I know that she had some part to play in what happened to me tonight. I know she hasn't the money to counter my bribe to the Princes, but she had to have been responsible for tonight's smearing of my good name somehow." Venn'lith failed to divulge anything about her foul demands of the maiden the other night. That would be kept in her back pocket as she didn't want her trump card to backfire.

"How do you expect to do it?" Ferd'inn was all pointed ears again as he moved in for the conspiracy. The lad loved a good strategy.

"I'm not totally sure about that yet," she said as she met her friend's posture. "Perhaps we can find more out about this new guy and use him sort of as leverage against her," she was gesturing in a wild circle with a manicured nail of finest veneer. "The last thing I need is for her to become insulated in a new romance. Besides, either way...," she sat back proudly with cocked eyebrows.

Ferd'inn was now ravenously interested. "What...?"

"Besides, I have an angle." As if the gods were in her favor, her phone sang to her on cue, " _Maiden Venn'lith, Father calls you_." The Xochian's eyes lit up with unrestrained joy. "Change of plans."

"Lith, it's _Papi_. Where are you?" Lord Mitlan rambled with his tired voice on the other end of the flow.

"Oh, I'm just at the Sea and Shell with a friend." Her chirp was as saccharine as ever. She spoke with her father in their native tongue.

"Fine, fine. Please do come home soon, I just got in. I was having a long dinner with Lady Reyliss. You remember her from the other night, yes?"

Venn'lith was ecstatic. She turned to Ferd'inn with lighting speed and gave him a look of wonder as she puckered her lush lips into the form of a surprised "o." The plan was set and all the pieces were in place; such perfection signaled the time to strike.

"Eh, yes, _Papi_ , I remember her." Her voice was even sweeter with the juices of sheer delight.

"Yes, of course. So how was your night, little _Mija_?" She could tell his voice was losing interest in her already as it was common for him to do. Even though he vowed to take Sunday off, she could tell that he was champing at the bit to get back to his stocks.

"Ohh...not so good, _Papi_. We need to talk." Ferd'inn could see his friend's face morph from her genuine cheer into a feigned pout that would make any father on Earth weep. She was good, he noted.

"Yes, of course. We should have dinner together, as I have much good news to tell you."

"Yes, _Papi_. I cannot wait to hear it," to that she rolled her eyes and smiled a beaming grin at the same time.

After she disconnected, she gave her compatriot a vigorous thumbs-up. Whatever it was the two discussed had to have proved a certain fortuity. Ferd'inn spoke quite a few languages and dialects from around the world, but as his luck would have it, Xochian wasn't one of them. He made a mental note to study it one day.

Venn'lith couldn't contain her thrill. After a night of sheer social horror, things were coming around again. Such was the lot of a successful person, and to be a successful person was her destiny. It was true, the higher you rose in life, the harder you could fall, but there was a point where one was too great to fall. Venn'lith figured she was born beyond such a mark. "I think I'm in business!"

"What? I don't quite follow...," Ferd'inn began, but was halted by the sun elf's hand wrapping around the back of his head. It was a time of great celebration for the two and she kissed him deeply in her unfettered merriment. Today was going to be a grand day for the both of them.

"I'll tell you all about it soon. But you must come with me to my coach. _Now_!" This was becoming all the more interesting, thought Ferd'inn as he read pure lust in his comrade's eyes.

While the clean and happy young couple set off to rejoice their good fortune, Minn'dre Harvatt was not feeling so well. Not only did she fail to complete Venn'lith's order, she was unable to perform simple tasks like walk a straight line.

Forces were so chaotic in her mind and body ever since she woke up face-down on her lawn the other day that she didn't know how to compose herself. She couldn't figure out why she even bothered coming into work that day, but what else was there to do? Visiting a health warden would be the best idea, but such a notion had slipped her mind, as did many other concepts. She was running on pure urge, almost as if that urge was someone else's. At 5:15 a.m., Minn'dre Harvatt had fallen face-first onto the floor of the Sea and Shell Trading Company's kitchen. She woke up four hours later in a hospital ward.
Sixty Seconds over Corosa

**W** ith only a mere half-minute of flight, Sammian had broken past the earth's radiation belt and reached libration point L2. It was there the elves' godsrail rested in geostationary orbit. This mile-long track of machinery made it possible for the earth's celestianauts to catapult their godswheels via vibrational attunement through time and space with a course plotted for Mars. Although the device had only one destination, it worked much like the pyramids to get to and from different dimensions of reality. At regular intervals alongside the track, large orbs full of mana pulsed at the ready to power the next sortie to their smaller sister planet. Primitive, she thought, but still effective.

It was apparent that this new application which harnessed the earth's mana was being further researched for personal use. Manaphysics maestro Dr. Bimi Veren'jee from Kumari, who spearheaded the development of the godsrail, had left scrolls upon scrolls of notes for a concept known as singular teleportation prior to his death. In theory, each elf had the ability to transverse time and space, much like the godswheel, from point to point almost in an instant. Such an amazing new ability would, of course, need to be planned by environment and transportation wardens to allay any chaos caused by elves popping up to and fro all over the world at random. This system was being argued back and forth by elders across boardrooms everywhere, as this was the only obstacle left between elfdom and instantaneous, coachless travel.

Then there was this Minn'dre; her new ward. Why Lucifer had assigned her to watchhound this young maiden still boggled her mind and made her a bit nervous. Yes, he was correct, accidents did happen, but with his mind and machinations, even the most glowing success could become a great travesty at the flip of a coin. His retribution for failure was horrible and legendary so she knew that she could not do anything less than make this scheduled massacre a testament to all of the earth that Mars was off limits. When she completed this task, she would be made a goetic general for sure. The last thing she wanted was to have the love of her life replace her with a little elf who worked in a smelly coffee shop, but stranger things had happened with the Infernal Lord, so she was told.

After passing the godsrail, Sammian folded her moth-like wings around her sides like a spotted cocoon. She closed her eyes with a gentle slowness and crossed her legs within the points of her wings' tips. It was a long way to her target and she couldn't stand the boredom of flying though the absolute-zero expanses of blackness and space trash for days. As she hurtled out of wide orbit, she took one last look behind her and saw that Earth was indeed beautiful. Millions of far-flung miles were ahead of her, and she prayed to her new master until the self-imposed trance had washed over her. Much like any elf, she prayed for love, success and happiness.

***

Two miles away from Sammian's point of launch, Tam'laa Na'rundi parked her coach in the dingy little back alley of On'dinn Jak'sin's downtown tenement. The young male was relieved to see that there were no police cordons or bright yellow crime scene ribbon wrapped around the side door to his family's little apartment. Ever since explaining his situation at the party, he had come to the realization that he was pretty much off the hook as far as the civil wardens were concerned and this bathed his mind in a feeling of well-being. Nearby, an alley cat screeched a welcome to the pair in its late-night joy.

"Thanks for watching over me tonight." He slumped back in his seat and met his driver's dark eyes.

"Not a problem, On'dinn," she flashed him one of her contagious smiles which he matched.

"Look, tomorrow, I have to find Minn'dre. I have a few good ideas where I may find her, but I also have a few bad ones too." He looked down at his lap for a moment with a sense of shame. "If I hadn't been through so much adventure including getting the snot beat out of me left and right for the last three days, I would set out to find her right now. But seriously, I'm about to collapse."

"Don't feel guilty!" she touched his hand. "You've been through a boatload and if you were to attempt any searches right now, you'd be liable to make the situation worse." Tam'laa was always so sensible about dramatics, and it was one of the reasons she was never too eager to get caught up in them. Right then, On'dinn wished he was more like her. "Listen, when you're up to it, call me and I'll help you find her."

"Thanks, I will, I just...," she cut him off with a kiss to his cheek. He hadn't grinned so big in days, perhaps weeks, and it made his nose hurt for a second. "Uh, yeah, I'll do just that. Tomorrow, okay?" He couldn't wipe the happy smirk off his face.

"Yeah, you better!" she answered with a mock threat and On'dinn laughed.

As he stood at the chipped alleyway door, he watched Tam'laa's coach disappear into the steam of the narrow lane and off into the slate-grey early morning. He chanted his way into his abode. It may have been scummy, but it was still his home. As he was in a half-slumber, he all but forgot about the song of the doorbell:

" _Greetings, Master On'dinn_ ," it wailed a tune much too loud for that hour. The shock to his dulled senses was great, but at least it didn't manage to rouse his father who was passed out on their old and sagging sofa. If his father had been aware of his absence for the past few days, he was apt to get an earful tomorrow, but sometimes the lad wasn't sure the old fool cared one way or the other. At least he was still breathing, he could see as the elder Jak'sin's slight chest was rising up and down with life.

On'dinn's room was his sanctuary. The walls were lined with posters of protests, political campaigns, and a few featuring countercultural musicians. Sure, On'dinn liked the Gonduanna Princes as they spoke to their listeners with righteous messages of freedom and equality, but there were other bards and troubadours out there who weren't so mainstream and polished. Those were the real musical mavericks that weren't afraid to push the sociopolitical envelope and get down to the meat of the matter. Maybe they didn't sound quite as professional as the Princes, but such sonic luster wasn't their concern; they all had a message to be heard. Naked Caster was his favorite, as was Maladroit. Neither was afraid to forego surreal pop imagery to convey their message and he appreciated that. Sometimes one had to be blunt in order to change things.

On his bed, On'dinn's head was too full to fall asleep as fast as he had planned. Minn'dre's whereabouts charged at the forefront of them, but so did tonight's victory against that young tyrant Hyrax Arcovis.

Sammian. That was one lady he never wanted to meet again, but he had the sneaking suspicion that he was going to have to make such an encounter if he ever wanted to find Minn'dre. In the back of his mind, the young elf feared that times much more great and terrible than Hyrax and the civil wardens lay ahead.

Not long after he filed through his never-ceasing worries and strategies, On'dinn fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed of better days long ago when he and his father and mother were strolling through the park. On'dinn was peddling a yellow toy coach designed for little elflings and he was giggling without care. Father was clean, sober and happy for the first and last time in his memory. Due to his abject poverty, On'dinn sometimes feared that it might be the only coach he would ever pilot.

***

Five miles from On'dinn's little bedroom, Quen'die and Lauryl'la were propped against Lauryl'la's sofa pigging out on a big bowl of fried mushrooms and avocado dip. It was so great to have the whole house all to themselves as Lauryl'la's folks were off training for the weekend. Since only coverage of the pyramids and the king's assassination attempt polluted the manascreen with ceaseless certainty, the duo summoned a movie from its flow. It was an old Kumarian horror flick by the name of _Mystics in Lank'aa_ that their parents had probably freaked out over when they were their age, but it was still pretty creepy.

"I'm going to get so fat from eating this junk!" Lauryl'la puffed her cheeks out like a hamster hording pellets and the two maidens cracked up laughing.

"What do you mean, maiden? Even when you do that, you _still_ look skinny!" Quen'die retorted with a twinge of baseless jealousy as she too was quite a thin one.

"Whatever," Lauryl'la rolled her eyes. "You're totally skinny too. We just need to make sure this stuff doesn't make our faces look like tomato flatbread come Moonday."

"Hmm... It's still good. I don't care," Quen'die popped another fried fungus into her mouth and nearly choked on it from laughing at her own gesture of dietary defiance.

The manaphone startled the two as it called with a song of announcement, " _Maiden Quen'die, you have a message left from Mavriel Dara'vanian..._ "

Two pairs of eyes lit up to the sizes of saucers and they met each other with shock and glee. They both hopped up and down on their haunches and screamed their heads off with more laughter. Lauryl'la's chubby pet lynx Bonkers ran out of the living room as it could no longer bear the insanity of two teen maidens with the whole house to themselves.

"Ehh... _Dara'vanian_? Like the manascreen company?" Lauryl'la cocked an eyebrow in disbelief to her goofy comrade.

"Gods! He must be rich!" Quen'die met her friend's revelation with another gale of cheerful screaming and Lauryl'la couldn't help but match it.

"Hold the phone, maiden," The elfmaid slapped her thigh, attempting to bring them back down to reality. "Nobody from Avalon is rich. Not _Dara'vanian_ rich."

"Well, maybe he's just distantly related to them or something. Hey! Maybe he could at least get me a new manascreen for free!" To that, Quen'die and her friend continued with another round of joyous shrieks.

"I've just gotta see this message," Quen'die stated after the pair settled down from their comedic episode.

To: Quen'die Reyliss

From: Mavriel Dara'vanian

Dearest Quen'die, I had an excellent time tonight and it is important that I see you again. Please call me up as soon as you can.

"Wow! He sounds like he's all business or something," Lauryl'la frowned upon reading it from over Quen'die's shoulder.

"I don't know. He's from Avalon after all. Maybe they're just like that over there," Quen'die shrugged her shoulders with indifference. "I should call him up now!"

"No! Don't do that! Not yet, anyway." Lauryl'la arrested her friend by grabbing her bony wrist. "You'll totally look desperate! You can't let these guys think they have the upper hand - ever. Why, I plan to ignore Cheatsheet until at least Marsday or maybe even Midweek."

"Really? That long?" Quen'die knew she wasn't very fluent with the language of the opposite gender, aside from the drama on the manascreen, but those productions had never seemed to focus on the small nuances like when to call a male back.

"Absolutely!" Lauryl'la exclaimed with much seriousness. "If you give them an inch, they expect a mile, and since Mavriel is older and at University, he's probably pretty advanced with the maidens. You need to be careful with this one."

"Yeah, he's at least two years older than me," Quen'die pondered in deep concentration. "That's pretty old."

"Yes, it's ancient! All the maidens at school are going to talk anyway if you two hook up, but if you let him get the best of you, you'll never hear the end of it. Especially from Lith!"

Lauryl'la didn't mean to bring her up again as the witch had been the topic of conversation for their entire drive home, but the pair figured that she got what she deserved in spades. Either way, it was something for her friend to think about if she decided to jump the gun and allow some university lad to hold the cards in their relationship. Quen'die was rather vulnerable then and the last thing she needed was to be heartbroken by some foreign cad. It happened all the time to Atlanteans, male or female regardless. Someone from an exotic land would saunter in and use their worldly charm to take advantage of the unsuspecting.

Quen'die couldn't help it for some reason. She felt compelled to call the plains elf right then and there. "Well, what could go wrong?"

"Plenty!" Lauryl'la shouted with shock at the suggestion. "He could leave you in the dust and, the next thing you know, he's on to his next co-ed conquest who _is_ at University! You won't be able to compete with her experience and he knows it. First, he'll start an argument with you out of the blue and then, when you want to talk about it, he'll suddenly forget how to speak Atlantean. It happens all the time with these guys from other lands who think they are the love god himself!"

"Uh, yeah, Rylla, but that won't work because all Avalonians speak Atlantean anyway!" Quen'die raised a defiant red eyebrow.

"Oh, maiden, that doesn't matter! We have to talk, seriously. But first, I need to get more avocado dip." Lauryl'la got up and made her way into the kitchen as Quen'die sat on the floor in front of the screen with much to consider.

Mavriel seemed righteous, she thought, but what really could go wrong? Many of the maidens at school did indeed get their hearts broken by males all the time, but why would anyone want to do such a thing to her, she wondered? She wished she were more experienced with these matters and had such opportunities earlier on in her life, but she had to start somewhere soon, and now was no better time. Just in case, Quen'die controlled her impulses and waited for her tall friend to return with some more dip and sisterly advice.

***

Two miles from Quen'die and Lauryl'la's high-caloric powwow, Lord Ferd'inn Reyliss was not feeling so celebratory. The nervous elder had been up all night and so was his stomach as it was tied into knots that would confuse a Kumarian weaver. He was thankful about one thing only, and that was the fact that Kaedish fell asleep around 10 p.m. He was old enough to understand that life occurred in phases; you win for a while and then it is all taken away.

The nagging urge to call his daughter's manaphone was like that of a lotus juice junkie. He couldn't count the times that he had clutched his mahogany model in his hands and was tempted to disobey his wife and give a little checkup on her. What could it hurt, he wondered? After all, it was his fatherly responsibility to ensure the welfare of his own daughter, but he had agreed with Glynna that he would not interfere on this night. Such a deal was forced upon him in order to face his fear and not sweat the small stuff as he had been doing since his son died. Glynna even forewarned that she would double-check to make sure that he didn't leave a worrisome message on his own daughter's phone in the morning. This was all a treatment for his high-tensile nerves as of late, she claimed.

Not only was the parental worry of a daughter's night out bothering him, but spousal suspicion had crept into his very soul. It was true that times were busy at the lab with the arrival of those meddling hulks outside the city, but why was his wife called into work and not him, he kept fretting. Her late nights were becoming more frequent in the last couple of months and her growing absence seemed to be coming to a head on that night. He reasoned she was only an artifacts and acquisitions officer, to be honest. As of late, she had been short and distant with him, and this became more concrete after their meeting with the Mitlan's. Why would she act in such a way, he added to his worries?

Emotions of fear flickered back to anger and resentment as he felt like he was being punished for what any father on Earth would feel in such a predicament, and a predicament was what he felt he was experiencing. When he thought about it, he felt like he was a little elfling who was sent to bed without supper for some misunderstanding that would be ironed out in the morning. Aside from worry and resentment, he felt powerless and that was what made it all so grave in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should see a health warden, as his wife had suggested many times, he considered?

What was he doing wrong? He wondered this more and more as he paced the silent home like a panther on the Xochian Pampas. He could admit to himself with ease that he was very high-strung, but that is what happens when a father loses a child for no apparent reason. Not one health warden could determine why Kellyn died; he just did. How could Glynna recover from such mystery so easily? Many times he had reasoned that she was much more resilient with matters of the heart than he was and perhaps keeping stolid and busy was her way of coping with the unmanageable.

On their family's armoire, he studied a wonderful framed picture of his daughter, taken the year before that presented her with a beaming smile as she held a bunny at the annual Atlantean Cultural Exchange Fair. She had carried so much grace and joy with the little animal in her arms as such this slice of life made him decide for certain that she took after him on the inside despite her frightening resemblance to his beautiful wife. Quen'die looked just like Glynna, but a few degrees warmer, he figured as he slugged back another glass of Kumarian mulled wine. For this he was proud.

Outside, the morning was arriving, but not quick enough as the overcast clouds rendered everything a resonant charcoal. It was already past 5 a.m. and he had still heard neither hide nor hair from his wife or daughter. He wished that either one of them would give him at least a courtesy call, but it was much too late for that. He was so tired and a bit pie-eyed from all the worry and wine. The best remedy for this night would be to just fall asleep, he decided.

He placed his round glasses onto the nightstand next to his empty bed. It seemed so cold and lonely and those were the only words that he could use to describe it. Something was dreadfully wrong that his subconscious could explain with a simple nod, but he could not gather the words for in his mouth. After falling on the bed fully clothed, he fell asleep and was not wiser to the low thuds of thunder in the distance. There was a terrible storm coming.

At 6:30 a.m., Glynna Reyliss arrived home. After passing the slumped form of her sleeping husband, she took a quick glance at him, only to be confronted with so many conflicting thoughts. She walked into the master bathroom and for the second time that night, she disrobed. A burst of thunder coincided with the sound of her running the steaming waterfall.

***

Five miles from the Reyliss home and a mere seventy yards from Sammian's point of departure into cold space, Mavriel knelt in the dark room of his downtown youth hostel. He made a silent prayer to the Creator and apologized for the lies that he had told his ward earlier that night, although it was all a part of his assignment. His home in Avalon, his last name, even his studies were all contrived.

Only the Creator could hear him for the time being and he knew this well. He raised himself up and took off the white robe. After folding the alabaster and gold cloth with much precision, he placed it in one of the dresser drawers provided by the establishment.

It was such a good feeling to recorporate and unfurl the wings, he thought. He could barely contain the large, white columbine feathers that all but exploded from his shoulders in the cramped room, but the space still accommodated his stretching them to full glory.

He had sent her a message without even the use of one of their manaphones. He had composed a mere thought in order to call Quen'die as the model he had used earlier that night didn't even work. As he unwrapped the bandages on his wrist, he looked at the mark the Creator had assigned unto him almost sixteen years ago and saw that it was a perfect match with the sigil on the maiden's belly; an infinity symbol. All was going to be well, as he knew she was going to answer his call. He could feel her molten desire to make contact with him like it was a programmed imperative, which in some ways, it was.

When he was composed and himself again, he opened the shutters to the third floor window and looked out beyond the rooftops of the early morning of downtown Corosa. Beyond all the dingy age of the well-developed capital city, he gazed past its majestic skyline which was punctuated by the pyramidal forms. There was little time left to act, he reasoned, as tears streamed out of his warm eyes. Despite the arguments of the global politicians, those lights were neither beacons nor countdowns to detonation. They were nothing more than simple engine lights. Those orange pulses atop the arks had begun to blink faster and brighter.

Please, God...
II.THE SONG OF LUCIFER

" _Love is the law. Love under will."_

-Aleister Crowley: _The Book of the Law_ (1904).

" _If I were dropped out of a plane into the ocean and told the nearest land was a thousand miles away, I'd still swim. And I'd despise the one who gave up. "_

-Abraham Maslow
Upside-Down Five-Pointed All-stars

Blackish goop dripped down from the sigil the chubby demon had scratched into the flesh of the inner walls of the vessel. He had just finished the final symbol from an array of ten assigned to him. This one was an inverted pentagram set inside a circle and he thought they all looked good enough to get the job done. The size and dimensions were to specification and that was fine by him. He grabbed the hollowed horned skull from off the floor and tried to gather as much of the viscous substance as possible.

He trudged like a boorish hog up the massive steps and through the narrow halls to the goetics' quarters to report his completion of duty to the boss. If all worked out well, he could go back to his cubby and take a pointless nap. Storming into the Adversary's Realm right from under the noses of the angelics was lots of fun, but being cooped up in this sweaty ark for days was pure tedium. Other than some slothful sleep, he wanted the next phase of the operation to start and that meant the sooner he could get back home.

"High President, I have completed your command," he bellowed like a dutiful dog into his supervisor's quarters. In the past few days, many official formalities had been forgotten in the boredom and wonder of what was happening on the outside.

Glasya Labolas was lying on the spacious bed with her comrade Bastet, playing a game of imp chess and snickering away like a couple of maidens at a sleepover. Her subordinate broke her concentration and mirth with her best friend by his announcement.

"Buboe, you don't have to shout," she sang. To that, Bastet giggled and traded her friend a knowing glance and stuck out her sharp tongue to suggest a sensation of mocking disgust.

"Uh, sorry, Boss," he bowed with a quick half of a heart. He hated being stuck alone in the same room with the High President, and it was always worse when she was with Bastet. Her majordomo gave him the creeps as it stood, but she only brought out the worst in his superior when they got together. He wanted out of that room like a cat in a bag.

As he turned away to lumber down to his cell, the High President called to him without turning her brassy-maned head. "Eh, Buboe! Don't leave so soon!" Bastet looked at her comrade with a knowing, devilish glee. The pair hoped they could break the boredom by having some fun with him.

"Uh, yeah, Boss," the former cherub stood to nervous attention. Whatever was coming, he prayed it would be quick and he would leave the episode somewhat unscathed.

"You did remember to collect the thelema from the wall's wounds, yes?" Glasya wasn't all that interested in her own question. She knew the little demon did as he was ordered, but she wanted to assert some authority with him because he had been acting mouthy as of late. It was no wonder as everyone was waiting for the arks to power up again and the atmosphere was becoming claustrophobic and tense. Nevertheless, pulling rank was not to be tolerated, especially by a fat little footsoldier such as Buboe.

"Yeah, Boss. I put the stuff in a skull, just like the alchemical ritual calls for," he added such a disclaimer just so he could be away from those two as soon as possible. The vile Bastet had already branded him three times for no reason that he could figure ever since arriving to Earth. For some unknown perversity, she had it in for him as if it were an obsession.

Glasya was all right for a superior, but he would have rather been assigned to a goetic like Stolas. All the demons who served under him more or less liked the elder lord because he was kind and wise. It was reported he never beat or maimed any of his wards, well, at least not without reason. Now, Dantalion's vessel would have been an awesome assignment. Buboe figured everyone in her ark was partying and having a good time. Things could be worse, he supposed. He could have been stuck in Asmodai's division and, most likely, would not survive such a dreadful post.

"Fine Buboe. Now shoo," she ordered still not turning to acknowledge him.

He fought the terrible urge to flash his boss a rude gesture behind her back, but Bastet would have seen such a transgression and would have beat the senses out of him if he deigned to do such a thing. The impulse still lingered in his steely middle claw.

"Buboe sucks," the assassin confided in her commander with a youthful chuckle. Her nails had been wrapped around the head of the little imp on the chessboard for what seemed like an eternity, and the six-inch-tall infernal was all but suffocating from her hesitation. He would have much rather died on his next maneuver in battle than snuff out from her crushing his head.

"That he does, Bass. That he does. Are you going to move already?" Glasya was becoming as impatient as the little imp with her opponent.

"Hmmm... Legionnaire to cherub six," Bastet decided after a prolonged and deliberate wait as the imp-knight moved in to destroy the unarmored living chess piece the instant upon release.

"Archangel takes Legionnaire," Glasya countered without hesitation. Her regally-dressed imp hopped his movement and thrust a tiny iron trident into Bastet's miniature demonic puppet. It was choking its last gasps of life as Bastet pulled her squirming piece off the checkered board while its body dripped with black infernal blood.

" _YOU FOUL BEAST! I SAID MOOOOVE-UH_!" she screamed to its limp, dying form as it dangled between her sharp nails. Within seconds of its death, it had discorporated back to the Inferno with a stygian poof. The majordomo thrust her blue-black bobbed hair behind her pointed ears in frustration.

"Now, now, Bastet. Don't smack all the pieces off the board this time. Imps don't grow on trees up here," she reminded her comrade with a condescending tone. The demonic assassin assigned to her ark had something of a short fuse, but Bastet was also a dear friend from the old days in the Adversary's Realm before the Fall. At first, Glasya was ecstatic to hear that Lucifer had ascribed her as an assistant, but the cabin fever of being sequestered in the stifling ark was beginning to wear on both of their nerves.

"I'm just edgy," she retorted with a short, spoiled whine. "When is the next phase of this operation going to get under way? I was always made for action! This is awful!"

Bastet had been an erelim-class angelic, just like Sammian, but she had rebelled eons before her. Now she was known as an erinyes, which was much like her infernal equivalent. Combat and infiltration were her specialties and she was not one for waiting around. Ever since the Fall, her patience had worn thinner than ever.

"Just try to exert a little tolerance. Sammian is taking care of everything out there," Glasya attempted to defuse her anger with something of an uncertainty. Since the power was shut down upon arriving to Earth, there had been no contact from the Inferno or any of the other arks, but, with time, that would all change.

"Heh, I seriously doubt it, Glazz," Bastet was not fond of her old coworker. During the Great Rebellion, Bastet had been locked into legendary battle with Sammian as she had been instrumental in wreaking chaos up in the inner circles of Paradise. Both of the erelim were in charge of the internal affairs of the Realm and when Bastet was compromised by Lucifer's schemes, all hell had literally broken loose up there.

"Have some faith, Bass," Glasya rolled over on her back like a lazy cat; her dark wings folded underneath. "Lucifer wouldn't idly recruit her if he didn't think she was a viable commodity. Besides, the little fiend loves him, which means she will try all the harder for this not to fail."

"We shall see," Bastet said with distrust as she too turned supine and met the top of her friend's coppery head with her own.

To answer their questions of wonder and exasperation of the past few days, Buboe rushed into their chamber again moments later in an excited mood. "Boss! The scrying pool is working again! Lucifer is calling for you!"

"What?" Her golden eyes lit up with happiness and shock. It was hard to believe as her sense of time on Earth seemed so slow and palpable that she could feel it drag on and on just like any of its native elven denizens. At last something had broken and the big guy was on the horn.

Down in the Central Chamber of the cavernous ark, Glasya knelt before a large blue pool that occupied the center of the room. The scrying pool was a communications device that could be used to contact others through space, time and even other dimensions. Almost twenty feet deep by twenty feet wide, the structure was ringed by a well lined with holy symbols designed by the Creator. These symbols were once again pulsing with bright yellow life as the pool projected a gigantic image of Lucifer's giant body above it, reaching the full twenty feet.

Glasya loved her brother and she was one of the most instrumental of the demons to spark the Great Rebellion with him. Although some of the others in the Inferno were rather jealous of him and resented the fact that he had claimed all the credit for the revolt, Glasya was not fazed by it as she understood his immense ego and the dangers that could arise from sharing too much of the pie.

Lucifer's face was beautiful in its simplicity. The only way to describe it was gold upon gold filled with silver and more gold. All the females in the Inferno wished to be in his heart and many of them had revolted from the old Realm just for the opportunity to be able to voice as well as consummate their lurid affections for him. Glasya, being his sister, was the object of much resentment amongst her unholy sorority, but she too had devised her own safeguards against their envious plots. Many times she had survived assassination attempts by these covetous witches, but she, Bastet, or even Lucifer himself had thwarted such efforts.

"Glasya, I am finally able to see you again," he began in his usual gentle way.

"Greetings, brother," she remained knelt and peered once again into his beautiful eyes. They were so plain, yet full and shining.

"I am certain that you are fit to jump out of your skin as you are kenneled like a rabbit in there, yes?" his concern for her was genuine. She didn't mind her turtled situation as much as Bastet, nor did she expect her brother's sympathy as this was all a means toward a much greater end. It was good to learn at last that they weren't stuck in some sort of pocket dimension from which there was no escape either by accident or by the Adversary's devious traps.

"Can you tell me the meaning for your delay?" Lucifer continued.

"Yes, brother. After Sammian let us through the portal, we effortlessly expropriated the crafts, and then we arrived on Earth without a hitch." Glasya was choosing her words with some care, but only so she could report the plan thus far with accuracy. Unlike most of the other demons, she did not fear her brother's wrath as much, because she found he was unable to subject her to such a violent display.

"Go on, my love," he prodded like a dull stick.

"As soon as we arrived here, however, the crafts were immovable; absolutely unresponsive to any of our efforts. The walls were still pulsing and swirling with their colors, so we knew they were still alive, but nothing at all worked. Our scrying pools, the thelemic motor, even the main portals wouldn't unfold. Thus far, your contact is the first real sign of activity that we have seen in nearly a week since recorporation."

"Yes, Sammian did inform me that you were completely unavailable as she received no message from you through these ark's walls," he confirmed with his sister. "Why do you think that is? I was beginning to worry. The very moment I saw that I had throughput to your communications, I called immediately."

Lucifer had kept an open channel to his sister's ark since he trusted only her. Although Sammian had summoned him days ago, she wasn't a true member of the fallen yet, and would not have been made privy to any treacherous devices that any or all of the other devils may have been orchestrating behind his back. They were now, in truth, free for the first time since falling into the Inferno and it was quite possible that one of his own may have had his own rebellion in mind. Such a concept didn't evade his brilliant thoughts and, being honest with himself, such a worry was at the forefront of them.

"To simply put it, brother; the Adversary must have taken away our pilot's license." She shrugged her tough shoulders in a charade of defeat. "Although we could leave Paradise with the arks, none of devilhood could fire them up once outside of It. Our angelsong doesn't work now." This was Glasya's only guess as she had checked and rechecked the thelemic motor for any damages or breaks. There were no such blemishes. The engine all but refused to respond to her demands. "I suppose once you leave, you don't come back."

"So, what you are telling me is you are now stuck there?" Lucifer's dark side was beginning to break through his calm veneer. Glasya couldn't stand when he flew off into dramatics, and she knew she had better have a good solution on the double or she would have to endure his baneful posturing. He would never hurt her, she knew this quite well, but she didn't want to see him so fretful.

"No! Not at all. It's just that we had to develop a plan B to get them powered again," she tried her best to give her master an answer.

"How? Explain," he was not so much intrigued as he was doubtful of her shaky report. She feared that he assumed the entirety of the goetia was planning to betray him and he had caught them in the act. Suspicion was one of Lucifer's lesser traits and he theorized that it took a traitor to root one out. Glasya could see that his temper was ever shortening.

"Well, when we tried to helm the bridge of this thing, we found that the motor was unresponsive to our song, unlike it used to be. So, as commander of this operation, I elected to find an alternate power source. A source that was strong enough to restart the motor. The only element of that power level on Earth is mana, so I devised a massive incantation to summon and siphon this element from the earth's atmosphere and into the arks' motors. It really took a lot out of me, however. I was weakened for two full days." She tried her best to play on her brother's sympathy to help assuage his nerves and potential anger.

"So, I see. What then, Glasya?" his giant blue head leaned in closer. In comparison, her 7'1" frame looked positively diminutive.

"It's working! But rather slowly, I confess. Slower than I had expected. Although mana is thus far the most powerful element known here, these arks require so much power that even a large surge of the stuff barely charges them. My spell has been steadily rerouting the power into these suckers. It will just take some time. " She stood proud of herself as she twirled the curly bronze hair which framed her perfect, blunt bangs. She and Bastet had been experimenting with each other's looks during the tedium of the wait for the arks to repower. The High President was a bit dismayed to see that Lucifer took no notice of her brilliant new hairdo, but he did have more pressing matters than flattery to attend to at that moment.

"And this spell is charging all of the arks?" Lucifer interrogated. "How can the others know to do this if you can't contact them?"

"Oh, I did indeed cast the spell for all of the arks. It should be working for them too, but I will have to confirm this with the other lords now that the scrying pool is operational again," she hoped that this report would at least garner some appreciation from her brother. "Seriously, this spell took a lot out of me."

"I'm sure," the dark master said with a languid sigh. "Very well. When we are through here, I will personally contact the other lords and check to see if they are experiencing any other problems. We need every one of these vessels to perform optimally."

"Of course, my lord," she adopted an obedient tone. Appreciation just wasn't on her brother's menu for that day.

"Since we are using a power source native only to this planet, we need to be thorough," Glasya began to warn. "This is going to be a one-way trip."

Buboe trundled into the scrying chamber, almost knocking over one of the numerous decanters set on the floor. The interior of the arks were rather lavish, as they were a reflection of the opulence of their Adversary's Realm.

"High President, I have just made contact with the other arks in the area. I can scry that report for you, Madame," the squat demon announced, rather pleased with himself.

"Ah, yes Buboe!" Lucifer answered for his sister as his large holographic image swung over to the rebel cherub. "I too would love to see the status of the vessels, if you will."

"Absolutely!" Buboe had only rare opportunities to ever speak with the big boss and seeing his enthusiasm to his report was such a blessed treat. At least Lucifer appreciated his duties unlike Glasya, and, of course, unlike the foul Bastet. "Activating that now, my lord."

In a rectangular recess of the swirling-hued wall from across from the scrying pool, a three-dimensional map of the arks' placements appeared before the trio's eyes. Once again, the systems of the vessel were going online one by one as the stolen mana coursed through the living monoliths.

The shining image hosted the names of all the arks involved in Lucifer's operation. The dark lord was having some difficulty seeing the results from the pool as it was transmitted from another dimension relative to his. He was attempting to double-check Sammian's allegations from the barn. "Buboe, I now see that you aren't the only ones to arrive there. Excellent. Tell me, how many of these arks have successfully made it to Earth?"

The cherub strained his piggy little eyes at the glowing white map in the wall. "Eh, let's see..." he began deep in concentration. "It looks like six hundred and, eh...sixty-six, worldwide. That's all of them!" He too was thrilled to see this. "They all made it!"

"Fantastic, Buboe. Most excellent." The gargantuan image of his head slunk back with repose. "Glasya, when checked against the population of the planet's elves, do you think that will be enough to accommodate them all?"

"Yes, Lucifer. Stolas had studied the logistics of how many of the monoliths it would take to perform this operation and that was the number he had figured. Even though there are over a billion or so elves on the planet, these arks are huge enough to hold well over two million each. After all, they aren't going to be traveling first class in these," she chuckled at her own sinister joke as she hoped to lift her brother's spirits. He still seemed a bit annoyed by the delay in plans.

"No, Glasya, that they won't," a small smile cocked on his beatific face. "Buboe, I would like to see the readout of the arks in the local area of Corosa. There should be eleven there, if I am correct."

The glowing image in the wall zoomed into Corosa City and its general surroundings. The graphic map morphed into a fluid spreadsheet which featured the eleven vessels in that area. All of the arks carried strange and inoffensive codenames that the goetics had assumed may sound pleasant to the elven ears:

Ark Number/ Commander/ Codename/ Location

001:Glasya Labolas / _Morning Star_ / Corosa Environs

002:Stolas Voll'gig / _Sweetlight_ / Corosa Environs

003:Dantalion Mouff / _Cool Arms/_ Corosa Environs

004:Murmur Hazram / _Tea Green_ / Corosa Environs

005:Amy De'berenzen / _Heavy Mint_ / S. Central Atlantis

006: Balam Ly'myth / _Deep Summer_ / S. Central Atlantis

007:Lucifuge Rofocale / _Super Goose_ / S. Central Atlantis

008:Melek Taus / _Gold Core_ / S. Central Atlantis

009:Vinea Klautha / _Honest Apple_ / S. Central Atlantis

010:Krokus Maggro / _Sugarsack_ / S. Central Atlantis

011:Byakko Ro / _Reliant Tiger_ / S. East Atlantis

Glasya's was the prime ark in the whole operation and it bore her brother's namesake. Not all of the earth's arks were captained by goetics as there were only seventy-two demons holding that elite rank, but many lesser demonic commanders carried the task of overseeing the operations of the vessels who were deemed competent enough to carry out the plan to fruition.

"Where is Mammon?" Glasya wondered as she gleaned the local readout.

"Ha! He ticked me off, so I assigned his ark to the Vrillian wastes of Thuless'in. He's stuck in a northern city by the name of Dim'borgir." Lucifer was pleased with his little punishment to the greed lord who had tried to sneak extra winnings from a game of imp chess the two had played awhile back. Her brother never forgot a slight.

"Serves him right," Glasya twirled her curls again. "He was probably expecting his assignment in some wealth-laden city in Xo'chi or Gonduanna."

"No. I did, however, give Asmodai Dorado City in Xo'chi." Lucifer was preparing to get an earful from his sister as he winced with a grimace full of mirth. She and the wrath demon were always at wits with each other and she would be quite envious of him receiving such an exotic locale. Lucifer could detect some carnal tensions between the two and he assumed their bickering was the prelude to a genuine romance one day.

"Hey! Why does he get all the sun and fun while I get boring old Corosa City?" she pled while flashing her brother doe eyes.

Lucifer jumped on that. "Ah, but boring old Corosa City is the crossroads of the world, as the elves say. I assigned you to the most populous cultural center on the planet. So you should be flattered that I entrusted you with such lofty responsibilities."

"Well, I suppose we aren't here to sightsee," Glasya mumbled as she soaked in the data on the wall. "By the way, did Sammian contact you yet? Any word on her assignment?"

"There has been a bit of a complication, but a fortuitous one," Lucifer informed her, then looked away as if to dismiss the point.

"So...that means...," her brother was trying her patience on purpose at that moment. One thing after another was diverting from the original plan and she didn't want to take the horrid blame for it which was quite possible. If the situation here revolted any more, she could always devise a way to have Bastet take the fall.

"The elven assassin failed the kill," he explained. "So we are going to use a different ploy to convince elfdom to keep away from Mars."

"What should I do? Are we still not going to use the excuse of an alien invasion?" Glasya was now more intrigued although she had only prepared herself for the original plan. Adaptation wasn't as strong a suit for her as it was for her brother.

"We will. Really, nothing changes for you, but Sammian's plans will have to be a bit more...drastic to convince the populace," the dark lord explained with an air of reassurance. "Sammian is now to stage a massacre up on the elves' Martian colony and blame it on the orcs."

" _What!_ " Glasya let out a shrill and feminine laugh. "I never pegged you the one for so much drama, dear brother. This is going to be good!"

"Well, fun and good for you, but also messier and a bit more chaotic," Lucifer reasoned. "With such a terrible and quick display of carnage, you can expect a flood of elves fighting on top of one another to get a seat on these arks. So, that is a challenge you must make arrangements for. Do you see my point?"

"Oh..." Glasya was not the most patient of demons and having to handle over a million warm bodies and souls all at once was not an idea she relished. "Will the potions we are making still help alleviate this possible earthly stampede?"

"That may be a key element in this new plan," the giant image agreed. "This we will play by ear after we see the elves' reaction. Oddly enough, once our arks appeared, the general populace took it all rather graciously, so Sammian tells me. Perhaps they will be calmer about it all than I suspect, but we can't allow them to become too complacent or they'll forget about this so-called crisis and never get on board! They are a fickle lot, these elves. That is why I initially wanted a slower, but steadier influx by using the drama of the assassination and a power vacuum. Well, they aren't just fickle, they too are fallible."

"We could just destroy their godsrail and prevent them from going to Mars that way," Glasya suggested with a cocky shrug. "We can have Sammian do it."

"Absolutely not!" Lucifer couldn't hide his smile at her brutal proposal. "They cherish that thing as it is their greatest achievement in their minds. We are here to be heroes, not vandals. They'd hate us and never get aboard the arks and then we would need to round them up by force. That could take forever. We need their unwavering trust.

"It would have been so much easier if we had that boob Travius in control of the throne for us," he sneered. "We would have had the government, the infrastructure, and most notably, the military and the media under our control. A slower burn, yes, but more efficient."

"So what is next, then, brother?" Glasya looked over to Buboe who was adjusting the map of their area.

"Wait some more, I am afraid," Lucifer could see his sister wince at the suggestion. She felt as if she were becoming trapped in that ark as she could feel the slow crawl of the earth's time-sense. "Then, when Sammian has completed her rather grisly task, I need for you to open the gates of the ark once you have accumulated the power to do it. All the arks must open simultaneously to make the event all the more monumental for their tiny elven minds, so coordinate that with the other commanders. It's all in the display of power. You will lead elfdom's so-called relief effort and you will be their salvation from the dreaded slaughter that these alleged orcs would certainly deliver upon them."

"Of course," she continued for him with a toothy grin. "Then once they are all inside the vessels, we dope them with the thelemic potion and deliver them all to the Inferno. Body and soul."

The amended plan was more brutal, quicker and simpler. Too much so for Lucifer's taste, but he was still in the running and no angelics were in pursuit as far as any reports had surfaced. The sigils he had ordered scratched into the walls of the ark would repel any of their ten holy choirs, so they would no longer be able to enter any of them regardless. His forces had compromised the Adversary's vehicles even though they couldn't yet activate them to full operation. As it stood, both Paradise and the Inferno were at a tragic stalemate, but he was sure to turn those tables because he still held some of the initiative.

"Body and soul, my dear sister."
Satellite of Hate

**O** lympus Mons Traffic Control to Cydonia Base, please respond," Mia Bha'vaal called into the comm as she checked the bank of glowing scanners with diligence against the flashing bright streak of light screaming across the ever-murky night sky beyond the panoramic window splashed before her. "Olympus Mon..."

"Yeah, Mia. I hear you just fine and you don't need the formalities here," Commander Lok'nath Pravaal reminded his subordinate with a lazy huff in their native Kumarian.

"I know, Commander, but it sounds so capital! Just like in the movie _Bug Hunter._ Besides, I am only practicing for when we get some real traffic up here," the overzealous young communications officer reasoned. Nothing much dissuaded Mia as she took her youthful appearance and playful demeanor too far sometimes, even with her superiors.

Commander Pravaal wasn't exactly the sternest of bosses; much of the crew thought he was something of a pushover, so it was rare that she hid her chipper posture with him on this assignment. Most of the crew stationed on the expedition appreciated her fresh attitude through the usual slow and uneventful claustrophobia, but when events got stressful, as they would from time to time, the maiden could get kind of annoying.

"That won't be for a long time, Mia. Right now, all you ever need to worry about in regards to contact is base and expedition control." Mia could tell her commander was rolling his eyes with a smirk as he informed her. No matter how persistent her grating antics were, she knew he held a soft spot for her.

"Okay, but what about with supply ships?" Mia offered as she tucked a long black bang of her hair behind her tall ear.

"Grrr!" the commander let loose a bold groan on the comm. "Very well! Be as official as you want with supply!" Pravaal could hear the comm officer's grin beaming to the edges of her flawless face over the open channel at his shortness. He wished for the same manascreen communicators as had expedition control so he could see her monkey shines with his own eyes, but budgets were budgets. "Ahem...Anyway, what's the crisis now?" he inquired with tired sarcasm.

"Scanners have detected a foreign contact at 10 degrees north, 42 west, Commander," she informed in her dutiful tone. "It just collided with the surface a minute ago."

"So, what do you want us to do about it?" Pravaal wanted to get back to his heated card game with the base's golem handler as this banter with the maiden was becoming exasperating.

"We should immediately send a bus to check it out," she suggested without skipping a beat. Mia had been reminded to show more initiative upon her most recent term review, so her people-pleasing behaviors were in full swing as of late.

"Eh... Look, it's probably just another meteoroid or something. The atmosphere is thinner here. Don't worry about it." He was about to cut the flow from the comm until Mia quipped back.

"Perhaps, but what if it is in relation to the pyramids on Earth?" Mia waited in stolid silence for a response over the flow.

"We have no pyramids up here, thank the gods," Pravaal rolled his eyes again with much impatience.

"This is true," Mia began. "But what if it _is_ from them? What if they are trying to contact us as well?"

"I don't know, Mia," Pravaal gave her suggestion some honest thought. He didn't want to miss out on what could prove to be an eventful discovery, but the base's power supply was a bit short. "That could be hard on the mana and we don't get another shipment for four months."

"It isn't that far," she reminded her boss. "It's only over on the edge of Adalia Beach. That's just a tankful for you there and back."

After much pause, the Commander did some impromptu logistical arithmetic in his head and saw that Mia was correct. The land there was pretty flat and that would make for a smooth and quick mission. Sometimes the monotony of milling back and forth on this all but desolate world numbed the senses and made one slow. Every day drained into the next. "Very well, I'll put a bus together and we'll check it out," he ended the thoughtful silence.

"You found us a bogie, huh?" Lieutenant Ly'sann Ild'ryss asked his partner as he scanned the surface map shining on one of the many screens before him. "Maybe it's an alien that's come to eat us this time. It sure would help alleviate the boredom, I'll tell ya."

Ly'sann was much more jaded than his contemporary and joined the Atlantean Air Guard so he could fly limmers, but his immense height prevented such a dream from becoming reality. At the onset of his training, he was quite the accomplished flyboy at the Academy, but after a freakish and latent growth spurt in his twenties, he no longer qualified for the position of pilot. At a lanky 7'6" height, it was all but impossible for him to squeeze his long legs into the cramped cockpit anymore. Limmerjocks were known for being more-or-less petite and he had lost such a quality years before. Due to his aptitude for manatech, he switched over to communications with much reluctance. It was the most depressing period of his life as he had always thrived in high-activity situations to the point that he needed to be in constant motion or he felt like he would implode. He missed the early days of the Academy with all his heart when he would barnstorm and flit-hop the vehicles in mid-air at the fastest of speeds with daring skill. Now, he felt like a crippled person for the simple fact that he had grown six inches over the course of one month long ago. Banks and arrays of screens and scanners were his life now, and the sessile nature of communications put him into a deeper funk that he remedied with large amounts of mead and wine. Ly'sann, to be blunt, was a drunk.

"Yes! Perhaps we will make contact with an agent from the pyramids back home!" Mia's enthusiasm was grating on Ly'sann as well, but in a bittersweet way. He liked the tech maiden with a genuine honesty and saw a ghost of the person he used to be in her, except for the fact that she actually enjoyed being a comm officer.

"Well, you know what I think?" He slugged another deep drink of "fortified" coffee from his thermos. "I think it's a big ol' dragon from outer space that has come to incinerate every last one of us. At least I hope so."

"We should be serious about this!" Mia switched to Ly'sann's Atlantean tongue. He too could speak her Kumarian, all members of the mission were required some degree of fluency, but he never quite mastered its rolling accent so she met his communicative needs with his native language. "We just don't know what this planet really has to offer!"

"Yeah, I know. You're right," he responded with some sincerity. "You have to understand how antsy I get on these night shifts. I gotta admit, I would much rather be playing cards with the boss right now. No offense."

"None taken. I just wish more of us would experience this wonderful opportunity to be in an entirely new world."

Mia wasn't the only member of the mission to have such interest about the planet, but so many on their roster were somehow broken and that overbearing sepulchral mood made it difficult for her to enjoy the mysteries of the mission to their fullest. Ly'sann was a cynical boozer and the Commander was a little long in the tooth. This was Pravaal's final supervision before retirement, and Mia felt he was only passing the time before he hit the bungalows on the beaches of Lank'aa back home. Pashaa Utillo, the golem handler, was an exception who was quite busy from day to day with maintenance and construction duties, but she was such a tough and surly individual that Mia tried to avoid contact with her as much as possible.

"I do, Mia, it's just that I cannot always be on fire when I'm sequestered in this tower for eight hours every day." The elf looked out the gigantic viewport for a moment and imagined speeding over the plains and tremendous mountain ranges of the strange planet in a limmer that was armored with the finest of ivory. As he knew such a fantasy was hopeless to ever experience again, his wishful daydreams were becoming less frequent and this made him feel downright empty. He turned away from his coworker and closed his eyes, hoping to look busy from her vantage point. It was only a few minutes before he dozed off into a light nap.

Half an hour later, Ly'sann was awoken by the emergency alarm screaming on the control console. His dreamless slumber was so pleasant that it felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest upon hearing the wailing assault to his large ears. The jolted sleep sobered him up in an instant.

"Control, this is Bus One! We need assistance! Help!" It was the crackling voice of Be'lann Hinter, the base's bus pilot. Mia intercepted the communication meant for Cydonia Base and listened with her full attention. Even Ly'sann was reorienting himself from the precious sleep he snuck from under his partner's nose and was aware enough to detect the gravity in the pilot's transmission.

"What in the Nine Hells is going on?" Ly'sann whispered over to Mia as he harvested the crusty sleep from his eyes.

"Shh!" she cut him off. "I need to hear this. Let's let Cydonia take this comm. We can't do anything from this far away."

It was all so frustrating to the young comm officer. Traffic Control was hundreds of miles from the main base, as it was positioned on the highest elevation of the planet in order to get the best communication range for the day when traffic to and from Earth would be bustling. As it stood, many godswheels and their launch sites were in the works to be mass-produced back on Earth so those magnificent travels could be possible to anyone who could afford such a trip. In a few short years, Olympus Mons would prove be a rather busy operation.

"Gods! She's ripping the back hatch open!" Be'lann screamed through the comm as it squelched from the high frequency of his terrified shriek. In the transmission's background, the two comm officers could hear the angry thuds and clanks of cured wood being beaten by what sounded like a rhinoceros' charge.

"Just tell us where you are and we'll send Bus Two over." It was Commander Pravaal. His voice was in a total panic, which was unlike him. The old Kumari Air Guard officer had never experienced any real battles during his career so his combat time amounted to not much more than simulations and trainings. Kumari was a peaceful collection of kingdoms, for the most part, and large scale military campaigns were all but unheard of, unlike places such as Thuless'in or Tel'lemuria. Either way, he was not used to such real drama.

"Yeah, Commander, I can't seem to...," the pilot's response was broken by the sound of a terrible explosion from the bus's hull. "Gods! She's in! I'm..." The sound of a red mana discharge was followed by another of Be'lann's screams. The drawn-out cry of terror gave way to a squeal of pain and then wet gurgling. Neither of the comm officers were sure, but it sounded like a female's cackle was sounding in the background.

"Be'lann!" Pravaal shouted over the comm. "Can you read me? Be'lann!" His pleas were answered with an ominous laugh of unknown origin. "Who is that? Who's there?"

Mia couldn't hold back her concern any longer. That scream was serious and she knew that Be'lann was no longer in trouble, but dead. Those final noises of his yelling were sucking and so...organic. "We have to contact Base. Maybe we should take our own bus over there."

"Why?" Ly'sann's sleep-reddened eyes lit up with a new-found attention. He was scared, but he just couldn't grasp how their arrival to that scene would be of any assistance to the situation at hand. "That's hundreds of miles away. We'll never make it in time. What I mean, is they'll have everything under control by the time we get there. Let's just keep to our jobs here."

"Fine, but we need to let relief downstairs know what's going on," Mia agreed after some thought about Ly'sann's point. "I'll sound the station's alarm."

The pulsing wail of the alarm was causing Ly'sann's hung over head to ring in tandem with the klaxons. The darkness of the tower's control hub was now flashing with the warning of frightened red danger. This all was making him a bit dizzy in his self-induced headache.

Moments later, Yar'za Sarma and Ronak Ohm filled the main door of the tower. The looks on their faces were locked into panicked surprise. The two were the relief for Mia and Ly'sann and both had only been off duty for four hours before the maiden hit the alarms.

"What's happening?" Yar'za exclaimed. He had never heard the true sounds of the alarms go off before as the communications tower did not hold emergency drills in an effort to save mana.

"There has been a situation with Be'lann in Bus One over on the Adalia Beach," Mia explained with much anxiety. She was as enthusiastic about danger as she was with wonder and this was helping in no way to assuage the pair's nerves.

"Eh, what kind of a situation, exactly?" Ronak asked a bit annoyed by Mia's cryptic exposition. Aside from Ly'sann, everyone was speaking their native Kumarian.

"I have no reports, but I seriously think something, or maybe someone, just hurt him," Mia cut from her formally-delivered uncertainty.

She was, to be sure, quite spooked and some terrible notions crossed her mind. What if whatever force that was certain to have killed Be'lann made it over to Cydonia and would then kill everyone there as well? She and her comrades would have to ration a meager existence in the cramped communications center that only consisted of the tower, a small garage, tiny living quarters for four and a power shed which held the manatanks. By the time a relief vessel came to rescue them, they might all be dead from starvation or exposure. That is, if Expedition Control even bothered to send relief to four lonely members. Lord Centeo Mitlan who funded the bulk of the project was always going on about the budget, the budget, the budget. The stately financial warden was never against cutting costs and corners and she feared that their lowly lives may be construed as such needless expenditures.

"Hurt?" Ronak was in confused disbelief. "Surely that isn't true. How could he be hurt? Was there some kind of accident?"

"Well, that's just the strange thing of it all," Ly'sann interjected in his broken Kumarian. "Be'lann kept screaming, and I mean he was _shrieking_ about something tearing its way into the bus." The lieutenant adjusted his round cap as it fell askew on his head during his nap. "After a horrible ruckus, the comm was silent and then I could swear I thought I heard laughter. Like a young female's laughter."

"What is even stranger," Mia added to her comrade's tale, "is that Be'lann was investigating a contact site that I identified about a half hour beforehand. Something fell into the atmosphere and I suggested Base to go and check it out." Guilt crawled up the maiden's spine and settled in the back of her mind. "Frankly, I feel somehow responsible for it all," she said as her dark eyes began to water by sad reflex. "I should have just ignored it."

"What good would that have done?" Yar'za butted in as he took off his uniform poncho and threw it on a ratty sofa nearby. "This isn't over yet and whatever that thing is that _may_ have killed Be'lann isn't finished. I'll bet you a million brens it's headed duly toward the base."

Yar'za was never too fond of Mia as he took her to be something of a prima donna. He knew that she was from a rather pampered home and he felt that the maiden was just slumming it by joining the Air Guard. He also suspected that her eagerness and naiveté were both just acts she employed to disarm people whom she thought of as lesser in secret. The elf was always short with his teammate and often downright rude to her. At a time of potential crisis such as this, he predicted that she would blunder or break down in a panic and her tears were confirming his suspicions. Yar'za loved being right.

"You are correct, Yar'za!" Mia stifled her encroaching sobs with a slight sniff. "That's what I was trying to say in the first place! Well, I was thinking it, anyway. I had better get on the horn with Cydonia and tell them to prepare for full alert."

Yar'za raised a somewhat surprised bushy eyebrow at that. The little tech whelp was indeed showing some initiative. Whether or not the maiden had any real guts would remain to be seen if and when this thing somehow wandered over to the comm station.

"Cydonia Base, this is Olymp...eh, it's Mia," she corrected herself as she remembered her earlier banter with the Commander.

"Yes, Mia, I read you," Pravaal's haggard voice sang over the comm. "What do you have for me?"

"We have intercepted your convo with Be'lann. Is he all right?" The maiden didn't want to know the grim answer.

"We don't know yet, as we have lost transmission with him." Pravaal was becoming exasperated again with her. "I am sending over Bus Two to investigate."

"No!" Mia couldn't contain herself. Despite her sour relations with the surly Yar'za, he was most likely correct that their mysterious adversary was on its way to the base. "Sir! If I may be so bold to speak freely," she corrected herself.

"Proceed," the Commander replied with growing impatience.

"We at control believe that whatever attacked Be'lann's bus is en route to the base," she mustered her inner strength to pull rank and elect to make a suggestion to her superior. The maiden figured it wouldn't be too terrible of a reprimand if she did so as the situation had become rather informal up on Mars, besides, the fate of keeping mum could be much worse. "I suggest that base be placed on full alert and lockdown."

"Mia! We have to get Be'lann back dead or alive! I cannot abide by your suggestion," Pravaal sounded almost like a father in his rebuke. Yar'za overheard his familial tone towards Mia over the comm and rolled his eyes. He knew he would never receive such easy treatment if he were ever to be noncompliant.

This negative reply wasn't going to settle with Mia and she refused to back down. "Sir, that thing out there is going to pick us off one by one if we keep sending sorties. I understand I am being insubordinate, but I would rather have a brig to come back to than a tomb."

Pravaal left the comm's flow open but silent. Yar'za looked over at his contemporary with a respect she had never seen out of him since the beginning of their assignment up there. He was impressed in all sincerity by her ability and display of bravery to pull rank when it was needed. Yar'za, in contrast, lost much faith in the Commander not long after arriving to the base and considered him a softy who viewed this outback job just as a final order for an unassuming and rather nameless officer in the Guard.

"Very well," Pravaal relented after the pregnant pause. "I'll recall the bus and hit the alarms. Remember, you will not be able to enter the base until this situation is secured."

"Sir! Understood," Mia barked in a subordinate cheer. The smile on her lips stretched across her face as she believed she had just done her best to save the entire base.

"And Mia," the Commander added.

"Yes sir!" she again barked.

"Three days in the brig when this is over."

"Yes sir! Absolutely!" she continued with her official rank, still pleased with herself. It would prove to be a sad fact that Mia would never experience the foul rations served to the insubordinates housed in the brig.

"Keep an open channel to base, and if things get out of hand, put the tower on lockdown as well," the Commander's voice was uncertain and a bit grave. This made Mia feel small, as her boss's tone almost sounded defeated before the game even started. She prayed in silence to the gods that the small cadre on the base could hold it all together and no more elves would get hurt. You must follow evacuation contingencies with Passionvale if we lose it here."

"Yes sir!" A small tear rolled out of her right eye. This was not shed out of joyous pride or grief from the apparent loss of Be'lann, but rather the sinking wonder of false hope. Such a feeling was so foreign to her usually optimistic self.

The massacre of Cydonia Base was overheard by the four in the tower a mere five minutes later. Whoever or whatever was assaulting their operations was fast. _Very_ fast. Be'lann's last transmission was almost one hundred miles away from the base and the interloper closed that distance in such a short amount of time. None of the four could believe it the moment they heard the muffled din of the violent banging against the bases 'main door which was hewn from half of a foot of cured mahogany. Disbelief gave way to an unearthly sickness in the pits of their stomachs when they heard the behemoth portal crash through as the security team screeched "Breach!" over the comm. Volleys of caster howls followed only to be silenced seconds later.

"Commander!" Mia took the comm again but halfway didn't believe she would receive an answer from the elder elf.

"Mia, not now!" he screamed in immediate response. "It's in here!"

"I know! We can hear it!" Her heart was beating faster than it had even during her first limmer drop.

"Gods! I don't know what to do!" Pravaal cried like a heartbroken maiden. "She's cutting us down from room to room! With her bare hands!"

_She_ is? A female cackle, Mia remembered. What was this thing and how could a maiden get to Mars? Was this intruder some native remnant of the planet? So many questions rifled through her mind. "What do you see, Commander? On the security screens?"

"Eh, she's...like a young maiden," he began, almost trancelike. The description of this thing fell into an uncanny valley of earthly familiarity, but otherworldly mystery. "She's kind of tall though and she has wings. Big wings that resemble a moth's! Oh dear gods!"

"How tall is it?" Mia couldn't bring herself to call this fiend a "she" as her frantic actions and forceful abilities were against the very nature of elfdom.

"Over seven feet as far as I can tell," he answered, shaken. "It doesn't matter. She's tearing everyone apart with her bare hands! Oh gods!" he cried again as if those gods would chariot down from the heavens like magic and put this foul abomination out of commission. Even if they did arrive to their rescue, could even they best her, he wondered? "There's so much blood! She's ripping through our security's armor!"

It was most certain Pravaal's useless prayers would not be answered any time soon, but Mia surmised that the base did indeed have a force that was the next best thing to a god. "Commander! Summon Pashaa! We can use the golem against her! It should be strong enough to take her down." Considering that the monster bashed though six inches of airtight, cured mahogany, this solution, too, would prove to be all but ineffective, but the enemy seemed to be immune to red mana bolts.

"Yes! Amazing idea, Mia!" The Commander switched channels in a frenzy to give the orders to the golem master. Seconds after she had given him the affirmative, Pashaa was decapitated by the mothlike menace's steely fingers.

Mia's heart sank when the Commander informed her that Pashaa had been compromised. Her spirit soon followed her heart when Pravaal screamed that he could see the fiend through the command center's window.

"She's covered in blood! It's like she's wearing a suit made of my soldiers' blood! It's everywhere!" Pravaal was no longer only crying, but wailing in the immense pain that he would soon experience when Sammian broke through the command center and swung his body about like a rag doll. After killing his other two officers in the room with little effort, Sammian took the comm. The Cydonia Base massacre was complete and the elves of Olympus Mons were the last four in existence on the planet Mars.

"Hi!" the demon chirped like a happy maiden over the comm in perfect Kumarian. "Is anyone there? I sure had lots of fun!" she giggled with childlike menace. Throughout the comm tower, the elves were frozen solid by her banal echo which was much like a bratty teenager's. Ronak soiled his uniform upon hearing it reverberate through the air.

"Fine! Be like that!" Sammian responded to the terrified elves' silence. "I guess I'll just have to party with you losers now! Be there in a jiff!" she ended her playful banter of murder with a shrieking cackle.

"Gods, get the casters!" Ronak screamed seconds later when the numbing terror subsided and the adrenaline kicked in. Ly'sann opted to chug the remains of his boozy coffee as the other three bungled their way to the small weapons locker over in a corner of the tower. All three of them were crying like elflings despite the military training they had endured years ago. Every one of them knew death was certain against this opponent as it was unlike any battle maneuver they had studied at the Academy.

The liquored comm officer was scanning the pulsing screens with weary haste as he tracked their harbinger of death's velocity and trajectory. It was faster than any living being on Earth. He too was weeping, but he was also in total acceptance of his fate. He tried to calm himself down with the stupefying vapors of his coffee and wondered if he would be allowed to fly again when he met the gods. Maybe he wouldn't even need a limmer in the afterlife. "Bogie inbound at T-minus one minute," he announced with a dejected groan.

Unlike Ly'sann, the quivering trio of elves clutching their casters still held the fire of life within their bodies and they wanted every last second of it. "She's coming!" Yar'za screamed. "Train the casters on the door! Gods!"

"T-minus thirty seconds," Ly'sann managed out of the side of his mouth. She was so fast that the drunken elf envied her for a second. To have such an extreme ability as zooming through the sky, unaided by nothing other than the wings on your back at speeds of over three thousand miles an hour just had to be the ultimate experience.

Mia's eyes were gushing tears so that she couldn't quite see the bulky door that was her target. The jerks with which her sobs shook her body bobbed the point of the caster up and down. Even if this thing could have stopped the monster, she would never have hit her mark under such frantic conditions. All three chanted the cast to bring their weapons to enraged life.

"In ten...,"Ly'sann began the grim countdown with a tired sigh.

Ronak held the notion for a brief moment that death by his own caster may be preferable to the damage this thing would do to his body. He couldn't decide if he should aim its point at the door or up in his mouth. Suicide was a terrible infraction for the elves and he at least wanted a noble death, which he was soon to experience. He stuck with the door.

Yar'za was losing his mind too, but in a different way. He didn't really know if he was aware of what was happening at that moment as the fear of his death broke his will. His fits of wide-eyed laughter would not stop in contrast to Mia's tears. "Whoo-hoo! We got it all, Mia! She's gonna hit!"

"3-2-1. Engage..."

Kibbles of safety glass from the shattered giant viewport window, along with the grue from Ly'sann's body, exploded with tornadic force. Sammian had completed Lucifer's directives with precision a mere twenty seconds after hitting the tower. Now it was time to make things really ghastly, just like the boss had ordered. The door that the elves had expected to be pummeled by her demonic fury remained unscathed as was Ly'sann's empty thermos.
Chocolate Milk and Manalite

Back on planet Earth, another alarm screamed through On'dinn Jak'sin's bedroom warning him that he would be late for his first day back at school. Sleep was so deep and hazy that he had blown off the entirety of Sunday and realized it was now Moonday morning. It was the second full day that he had lost after Sammian beat him and he wondered if his chronic slumber wasn't somehow the result of an ignored concussion or even supernatural in origin.

What in the Nine Hells happened, he questioned as he stared at the clock's glowing face which promised him it was now 6:00 a.m. Perhaps it was indeed all a result of the thrashing Sammian gave his head the other night, but maybe it was the stress of being arrested. Perhaps it was a combination of both factors, but, for the first time in days, he felt awake; more so than ever.

He peeped out from his room and saw that his father was no longer passed out on their tattered sofa; although he was sure to be unconscious somewhere else in the house, and that was almost always a given. As he scanned the dingy front room, he debated in his head about where to begin looking for Minn'dre today.

Despite the rare encounter with a bully such as Hyrax Arcovis and certain professors who held antique or outmoded views, On'dinn rather liked going to school. Many of the students respected him and he was eager to hear some of the juicy gossip that transpired after that odd party in Sig'ryn's treehouse. Of course, always being the skeptic, On'dinn would refute at least sixty percent of those rumors, but he did see with his own eyes the social destruction Venn'lith had sustained. Today, the impromptu vacation would need to be extended, however. He had to find his friend and know that she was alive and well. He cursed himself under his breath for sleeping the entirety of yesterday away, but perhaps his constitution needed it. He had been through a lot.

Glancing at the cracked mirror in the bathroom, he was shocked to see a frightful stranger until he remembered cutting his hair for the party. How ridiculous, he thought. It was freakishly short enough as to where it was going to turn some heads. He supposed that he would have to wear a hoodiecloak today to hide the strange 'do. The last thing he needed while hooking school was the general populace ogling the anachronistic wonder atop his head. Such attention might very well make it to the truancy warden and then he would indeed spend time in a juvenile dungeon; even if only for the day. If that were so, he could only hope Sammian wouldn't "rescue" him again as he cared for no more beatings about his head.

He rushed out the door and figured that the Sea and Shell would be the best place to start for any kind of info. In the back of his mind, he hoped that he would see his young maiden-friend serving orders to her customers like on any other morning and then he could chide himself for being paranoid. Such a relief, he predicted, would not be forthcoming. That female was out of the loop; she had to be. If she wasn't back in the clutches of the civil wardens, she was in Sammian's. Something horrible had happened to her as he could see there were no messages left from her in his inbox.

Scanning the contents of that folder on his tablet, he was happy to see that Tam'laa had left him a message wanting to know if they could look for Minn'dre. Of course, that was dated yesterday, and he missed it altogether as he was away from the world in his deep slumber. With no more time to waste, he ran to a nearby bench at a jam-packed tram stop and tapped out an apology to his friend.

He liked Tam'laa quite a lot. She was very intelligent and her foreign flavor intrigued him as she was the closest he could get to another land. On'dinn could barely afford to travel across Corosa Bay much less over the ocean to Gonduanna. He wanted more than anything to know more about her homeland, and one day hoped he'd be able to visit the luxurious and exotic locale which was home to the gold elves. Only on academic scrolls and the manascreen was he aware of the wonders of those kingdoms. Sure, he had visited their pavilion at the cultural exchange in the Royal Arena, but that was under the cold grey skies of Corosa City and not the hot, tropical sun of their continent. The experience just wasn't the same as being there in person. The lands of Gonduanna were dark and mysterious, even for its locals. The cities were immense and the design and décor was beyond anything the eyes could see in his rather vanilla kingdom. Even the birds and beasts of Atlantis were brown and grey mixed with tan, while the life of Gonduanna was painted in bright fluorescent hues that treated the eyes to fantastic beauty and wonder. It was as if the Creator had put all of His artistic efforts into Gonduanna only to become bored with it all by the time He had made Atlantis. So many of his wealthier classmates had summered there on their bright white beaches and he too wanted to be the visitor for once, he had admitted with some envy.

On a weekday morning, the Sea and Shell was bustling with adult elves that needed a desperate caffeinated jolt before being able to function at work. It wasn't as crowded by any means as the last time he had visited, but everybody's schedules had returned to normal and nobody was lolling about on idle holiday time. On'dinn poked his hooded head above the crowd of commuters in order to see if Minn'dre was working the counter. Much to his expectations and fear, she was nowhere to be found. One of the baristas was new and that fact made his heart sink. What if this alien waitress was Minn'dre's permanent replacement? Something bad must have happened to her as his sixth sense was nagging at him with its usual pessimistic alarm and he figured it was serious.

Minn'dre's best friend Shae'gin was on schedule that morning and he was happy to at least see a familiar face. Before laying eyes on her, he felt like he was dumped into an alternate reality warp where everything was the same, all but for a few important details.

As she was swabbing a table down with a wet rag, On'dinn snuck up behind her and poked her in the back. The playful gesture sent her into a fright and she almost spilled her water bucket with a shocked yelp.

"On'dinn Jak'sin! Grrr!" She was not amused by the early morning prank. "I could have knocked this water all over the place, you little jerk!"

"Hey, I'm just here to keep you on your toes," he cocked half of his face into a dashing smile from under his hood.

"What's up with the dark-and-brooding look, there, big guy? You joined the Black Hood or something? I hear they're looking for new members," she jibed as she was in the dark of his actual affiliation with them.

That innocent banter seriously made him skip a beat. "Eh...no!" he reacted in immediate defense. "No. I mean I just want to see if Minn'dre is working today," he tried to retain his lost casual mood.

"Oh, yeah...," Shae'gin's playful anger melted into genuine concern. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" On'dinn's eyes were lit up like a manastation's scanners. "What happened?"

Shae'gin looked off in careful thought as she tried to best compose the bad news to the lad. She knew very well that he carried a crush for her coworker and it was difficult to choose the right words that wouldn't throw him into dramatics. "Well..."

On'dinn wasn't sure if she was stalling on purpose, but he was impatient to receive the ill report as he was sure it would be. "Just tell me. I can handle it."

"Well, she was here early Sunday morning and she got kinda sick," the maiden tried to explain.

"What?" His wide eyes almost glowed from within the dim recesses of his hoodie. "Sick how?"

"Okay, she was acting really strange when she arrived for her shift and she had been missing orders and was just wandering around really slow, like," Shae'gin bit her bottom lip trying to remember more details. "We weren't crowded or anything because it was the redeye shift. But she was just plodding along like she didn't know where she was. Some of the customers not only complained about her not getting their order, but they also claimed that she was unfriendly and acted like she was on drugs or something."

"Then what happened!" On'dinn figured she was at least abducted by Sammian, but seeing as how she had bothered to report for work after all of this odd drama presented a sincere puzzle.

"Then she tried to place her final order. By this time she was really acting like she was in a trance and then she just collapsed. She collapsed face first on the floor." The gravity of the situation hit Shae'gin and her concern turned to sorrow and worry for her comrade. "Oh, On'dinn, I'm so sorry. I'm so scared for her!" she said as her golden eyes began to develop tears.

"Any idea where she is now?" On'dinn wanted to remain in control as best as possible, but the barista's watering eyes were becoming infectious. With a furtive sniff, he looked the other way and focused on the wonderful aromas in the café so it would help change the emotional subject in his heart.

"She must still be at the hospital, I figure," she began. "Like I said, this was only Sunday morning, so she may still be there."

"Which hospital?" he prodded.

"The big one. Eh, Corosa Health Circle." She grabbed her tiny bucket and plopped the rag back into the soapy water. "Look On'dinn, I gotta get back to the shift or I'll hear it from the boss. But yeah, try Corosa Health Circle. Good luck."

"Yeah, I've been running short of that lately."

The young elf looked out the large window towards the towering hospital beyond. The sky was still a slate grey and he figured the gloomy weather was a holdover from Sunday's storms. Late spring was the rainy season in Corosa and he was one of the few who felt thankful for it, especially on days he perceived as stressful. The blanket of overcast skies provided a security that invigorated him. Big, blue clear weather on his bad days seemed so ominous, as if the gods themselves could reach down from the heavens and pluck him off the earth so that they could torment him and only him for their whimsical amusement. Today was a good day to hide from their odious gifts of misfortune.

Armored civil wardens flanked the main entrance to the health circle nearby. On'dinn was growing weary of the stentorian display of force around the city ever since those blasted pyramids arrived the more he saw them. Not just because he was almost incarcerated by them, but because they were causing people a general sense of undue stress. Sure, they needed to be there if, or more so when, the doors on those hulks opened and whatever was inside of them spilled out, but he somehow felt that the burly wardens were watching the people instead of watching over them.

He was thankful to enter the hospital unmolested by the bulls and mulled over for a moment that he was committing the offense of ditching class. It seemed his hooded getup was enough to hide his youthful age since nobody had bothered him at that point. This thought made him worry that the medic at the front desk might get wise to him playing hooky when she heard his young voice. He wondered if he should speak to her in a deeper tone, but that was stupid and unnatural. Such a contrivance would be sure to raise some pointed ears.

The gigantic lobby was rather crowded as a fair amount of elves were still hospitalized from the quakes of last week, as well as the minor backlash from the light looting and fighting that had erupted along with their aftershocks. Corosa's civil wardens had restored order within a couple of days and the desk medic was a bit surprised by the lighter-than-expected turnout. Such a disaster could have caused terrible chaos if the city hadn't handled that ominous event better, and chaos equaled a crammed hospital.

"Eh, here to visit Minn'dre Harvatt," On'dinn delivered his request in the most natural tone he could manage. He opted not to ask if she was there, because that would just make him sound juvenile and uncertain. This was a situation where a strong assumption was the best policy as being assertive was a very adult quality.

After some silent perusal of the circle's records, the medic found the maiden's bed. "Yes, she is in circle A-B, ward 7/A. May I ask who is requesting this visit?" The desk medic was rather pleasant, so his stretch of better luck may have been returning.

"On'dinn Jak'sin," he stated with a casual look off to the side.

"Relation?" she inquired without looking up from her scheduling tablet.

"Just a friend. Eh, her _novion_ ," he lied, but he loved that lie.

"Okay, 'sweetie,' I'll send an orderly to escort you up in a few minutes," the desk medic rolled her eyes with a sarcastic smirk. "Have a seat if you can find one."

Waiting was not the thing On'dinn wanted to do at that moment. As he sat there, grim thoughts and worries crept into his mind about Minn'dre. What did Sammian do to her to cause a hospitalization? Sure, she conked their heads pretty hard and perhaps Minn'dre got the worse of it, but it was nothing that some minor painkillers and lots of sleep couldn't remedy. No, On'dinn figured his friend was abducted and during that abduction, that freakish lady really hurt her somehow. Was it drugs or a potion? Or was it some sick and perverted ritual that he didn't want his imagination to visit? So many foul possibilities and all of them ended up with Minn'dre passing out at work. Then there was the aspect of her trance-like state as Shae'gin had reported. What was up with that? Yes, it was definite that it had to be some sort of drugging, On'dinn figured.

He waited for almost forty-five minutes in worry and wonder before the escort arrived to take him to Minn'dre's ward. He was a big and quite surly-looking elf. Probably hired in the event a lunatic got out of hand in the mental ward and his muscle was needed to defuse any violent situations. As On'dinn saw the fresh patch on his left arm, this escort must have been engaged in such recent violence.

"All right, On'dinn Jak'sin for Minn'dre Harvatt," the escort bellowed out to the waiting room with some vitriol that On'dinn could detect with ease.

"Eh, Jak'sin, here!" the young elf raised his hand in a quick shoot skyward and thought of it as a juvenile gesture the second after doing so.

"Whew! That one gave me a run for my money yesterday, let me tell you," the orderly shook his bald head as if he was trying to slough out a bad memory. On'dinn noticed that one of the points on his ears was missing and scarred. Most likely due to a scuffle from long ago.

"Huh?" On'dinn was becoming even more confused. "A run for your money?"

"Yeah, Lord Jak'sin, that's what I said!" he was irritated without a doubt. On'dinn found it kind of funny that he was referred to by a title he wouldn't receive until adulthood, but he had to pretend he wasn't of school age or he'd get the truancy warden on his tail. "A run for my money. How do you think I got this?" he exclaimed as he flashed On'dinn the nasty manapatch. "I must say, you need to tell that lady of yours to lose the nails. It's going to sting until tomorrow at least!"

"Erm...sorry about that," he apologized for his friend's feral actions even though he still was in the dark as to what they were. "What exactly happened? I can assure you, Minnie isn't the violent type."

"Heh, could have fooled me!" he intoned with a gruff blurt as they entered the lift en route to the second layer of the circle. "It took four of us just to get her off of me. I can assure you, before you run off to any Circle of Law, that I didn't do anything out of hand. I just tried to take the maiden's blood pressure, like common procedure, and the next thing I know, she's mauling me like a rabid badger. So, please, forgive me if I sound a little short today. It isn't even lunchtime yet and I already need another manasalve."

The red doors to the lift opened with the musical announcement, " _Welcome to ward A-B: Mental and Neurological Treatment_."

On'dinn was shocked beyond belief. They put Minn'dre in the loony bin. Sammian had, without a doubt, drugged her and screwed up her mind, and this confirmed his suspicions. Minn'dre was rather fit, but there was no way anyone of her stature could take down a large escort such as this one and still need four more for assistance. The maiden had to have been amped with chemicals, On'dinn surmised at last. This Sammian was becoming a bigger enigma than ever.

As they walked without a word though the winding corridors of the mental ward, On'dinn had so many questions to ask of his escort, but he could see by the resentful and dour look on his face that he wasn't feeling very chatty. The escort broke the uncomfortable silence as they rounded a corner into her section.

"What kind of hoodoo is she into anyway?" he maintained his irritation with the young elf.

"What do you mean?" On'dinn asked, as he was even more confused by this.

"What I mean is that strange wound on her back. Right above her bum. I tell you, elf, on second thought, I don't wanna know what you guys are into," he said with a shrug as they rounded another curve of the sterile hallway.

"Eh...I dunno. I never knew about any marks on her." On'dinn wouldn't have known either as Minn'dre had never revealed that portion of her anatomy to him, even though he admitted to himself that he had daydreamed about it now and then. Such knowledge now spurned a suspicion in his mind about his Black Hood superior. Perhaps she was caught up in something more profound than he had ever known about and this made him feel very naïve. What if she and this Sammian were somehow in cahoots? After all, he couldn't know everything that Minn'dre did at all-times, and keeping secrets played an important part of being in the Black Hood.

"Well, either way, here we are. Room 7/A," the escort grumbled. "She's under sedation and restrained, but if she wakes up, she could get pretty randy, so whatever you do, don't cross the yellow line around her bed. She's dangerous."

Dangerous. Minn'dre. It was too much for the lad to process. She was always so in control of a situation no matter what the Black Hood did. Her ability to calm herself as well as others without compromising the fire of her beliefs was enviable and a great quality On'dinn wanted to hone in himself one day. He just couldn't believe that such behavior had erupted out of her.

"Yeah but **...** " The escort had already about-faced and lumbered off in the other direction without a further word. It was best not to bother the orderly considering his sour mood. Despite his large stature, he may have been a bit scared to revisit her room, the more On'dinn thought about it.

The young elf entered 7/A and saw that the atmosphere was more like a morgue than a health ward. All of the lights were dimmed and the cloudy day turned the room a dull blue. The only true bright lights were those emanating from the banks of manapumps and other medical gadgets which were singing their songs of operation with a soft hum. In the center of the room against a gloomy wall, Minn'dre was strapped to her hospital bed with some nasty-looking leather tethers. Across from his secured object of affection, stood a bespectacled mental warden and another large escort whom On'dinn supposed was there for security should the need arise.

"You must be On'dinn Jak'sin," the mental warden greeted in a clinical tone which seemed rehearsed. "I am Doctor Lo'grann and I am charged with your friend's care for now. I must say she is an interesting puzzle."

"Eh, hello, Doctor," On'dinn began. "I too am puzzled. What's going on with her?"

"Well," the doctor brushed back his grey hair which stood over his scalp in a high poof; not uncommon on elves of his stature. "From what we have gathered from her employer, she had arrived to work for the late shift Sunday morning and during that time, she was moving as if in a stupor. After a short time on her shift, she had fallen down and was rendered unconscious. Thankfully, she wasn't hurt in the fall, but she didn't wake up for a few hours after she had passed out."

"What happened then?" On'dinn wished for a more official account of his friend's behavior than what the agitated escort had given him.

"Her escort was running her through routine tests and when he strapped the belt around her arm to take her blood pressure, Minn'dre immediately woke up and attacked him. She was out of her senses and a hideous strength surged through her. It can happen sometimes when people suddenly wake up from a coma. It happens all the time with epileptics. We sedated her with Manalite and, unfortunately, we had to secure her in this bed. At least until we see that she has retained emotional equilibrium." Lo'grann studied her without much sympathy from behind his spectacles which flashed blue in the light.

"What about her folks?" On'dinn asked. This doctor was so calm and in control, if not a touch phony. He seemed almost a bit menacing in his soothing, yet clinical delivery. The young elf couldn't put his finger on it, but he was thankful he didn't know this doctor very well.

"We have made a call to them, but they are at work right now and they couldn't be reached yesterday. She's certain to get a visit from one or both of them soon," he stated in the same antiseptic formality.

"On'dinn," he continued with contrived gravity. "I am concerned. There is a rather fresh incision on her lower back that looks a bit like this." He drew a hasty circle surrounding a triangle on the screen of his medical tablet and showed it to the young elf. "Do you know what this is?"

"Eh, no. I've never seen that marking before." He wondered if it had anything to do with the Black Hood, but he was well versed with their symbols and sigils and he never recalled such a configuration amongst them. Perhaps it had something to do with Sammian.

"Right," he sounded unsatisfied. "We have applied a manapatch over it, but it's not responding to it very well."

On'dinn looked across the grim room at her again and saw that she was stirring in her doped slumber. He hoped that she would wake up soon so he could at least hear her voice. With that creepy doctor there, it would not be a very good idea to talk about personal matters such as the Black Hood or Sammian. On'dinn didn't need that guy getting involved in their political drama and he knew Minn'dre wouldn't allow for it either.

"Was she on something?" he asked the doctor. "Like drugs or anything?"

"Well, yes, we assumed that at first," he answered in a haughty manner, "but upon screening her blood, we found it to be squeaky clean. Not even any cholesterol. Physically, she's fit as a dire wolf."

" _On'dinn Jak'sin!_ " a hellish growl broke from behind him. Minn'dre had woken up.

"Get out of here, you little whelp!" She was sitting up stick-straight, as if she had the most perfect posture. It was so unnerving to see her like this compared to her deep stupor just seconds before.

"Now, Minn'dre, we don't want to be forced to sedate you again," the doctor interjected with condescending authority.

"Shut up, scrollworm!" she hissed at Doctor Lo'grann. "You should be more concerned about your wife. She's cheating on you." That news hit an apparent chord with the good doctor as his eyes popped wide while he bit at one of his spindly fingers in a nervous flurry. How could a random patient know such personal information, he fretted?

"All of you!" Minn'dre jerked with terrible might on her wicked restraints for their attention. "Here is wisdom \- Later this week, the doors to your doom will open wide! So saith Lucifer!"

The young female cackled like a true lunatic. Her laughter segued into youthful giggles as if her maturity was regressing toward elflinghood. To accompany the horrific display of childishness, she thrust out her tongue and hummed a tune of infantile challenge, _"Nanny-Nanny-Doo-Doo!"_ Within seconds, rivulets of blood oozed out of her nose as she continued to hum. The sight was chilling On'dinn with an almost supernatural feeling that he couldn't quite identify, and this sensation was overriding any emotional concern he had for Minn'dre's well-being. What made her behavior all the more frightening were her eyes. Under her normal moods, they were icy blue, but they were now black, as if her pupils overtook the entirety of her irises.

"Summon more orderlies!" Lo'grann barked to his assistant with obvious fear. "I need a hematologist as well, and ten cc's of Manalite." He rushed over to On'dinn and all but shoved the young elf out of the door. "You have to leave. I'm sorry, but she's acting up again and I don't want to be responsible for what could happen to you if you remain here."

On'dinn felt like he was going to be ill as he made his way down the winding hall. He bent over with a slight stoop and contained his intestinal urges as the feeling subsided in an even meter the further he was away from Minn'dre's presence. An odd fact he had noticed was that the temperature was becoming warmer the farther away he walked from the ward's door.

Later, he sat down in the hospital's crowded cafeteria as he looked out at the stormy midday. The brackish coffee before him was watery and tasteless and he had no appetite, especially for anything served in a hospital. After having the question of what had happened to Minn'dre answered, terrible new ones assaulted his mind. Who or what was this Lucifer? What doors was she speaking of? Did she mean the ones on the pyramids? What was this strange mark of a circle surrounding a square? His friend was into something deeper than he could bear that he wanted nothing more to associate with while he considered reevaluating his entire relationship with her. No matter how beautiful he thought she was, the escort was correct: she was dangerous. Whether or not he would, or even could continue his investigation needed some serious thought.

At a round table across from the young lad, a little elfling was sipping from a small carton of chocolate milk. On'dinn waved to the tiny child who responded by puffing his cheeks out and blowing bubbles into the drink, making loud, gurgling noises from a striped straw. He noticed he was wearing a light-blue t-shirt which announced, " _It's not a Milk Belly! It's a Fuel Tank for a Poo-poo Machine!_ " Seconds later, his mother sat down with him and On'dinn smiled as he watched them eat lunch from out of the corner of his eye. For just a moment, he imagined that he was little again.
Passionvale, We Have a Problem

**S** eabreeze Grand Adept School had established the mentor program which allowed students to participate as interns in a prospective career field of their choice for class credit. Tam'laa Na'rundi was enrolled in this program, much to her father's insistence, at the Circle of Climate and Environment where he worked as a military attaché. Such an arrangement was rather fortuitous in the end as Tam'laa aspired to become a marine biologist, and this was the best opportunity for her to thrust her foot in the door at such an early age for a business which was almost impossible to secure decent employment.

For a first day back at classes, Tam'laa was rather disappointed that Moonday was her mentor's assignment as she was dying to find out all the latest news and gossip amongst her friends at the school but, most of all, what had transpired after they left the party. She figured that Venn'lith Mitlan would be much too embarrassed to show up today, if ever again, considering her thorough trashing.

The young gold elf thought she deserved it. Not only would Venn'lith shoot dirty looks to Tam'laa on a regular basis, but upon the sun elf's first week of arrival from Xo'chi, she tried to start a vicious rumor that Tam'laa was an illegal alien. There was, of course, no such grounding to her accusation, but it still gave her a needless headache and she was even confronted by one of the professors (a rather nationalistic boor) regarding her immigration status.

It all stemmed from stock jealousy, Tam'laa figured. She was much better looking than the Xochian and that maiden had most likely been coveting her peacock overshawl which she had received from her Nanna back home in Gonduanna. It was true that Venn'lith was quite the fashionista, but Tam'laa always made sure to look her best too. The gold elf remembered the reflexive widening of Venn'lith's black eyes when she saw the shawl. It read as a combination of happy awe and green envy. You can't have everything, Tam'laa knew well, but she was sure that her sun elf rival held no such rational philosophy.

Another reason she wanted to be back in the halls of the school was to see On'dinn Jak'sin again. She had such an amazing time at Sig'ryn's party the other night and he was beginning to grow on her. He always had excellent points to prove and made Literature class quite an adventure when he would debate hidden points the featured authors were trying to communicate. Most of the time, the dated professor would dispute his claims with vehemence as conspiracy, but the young elf had managed to win her over on a few occasions. That took some talent.

Her mind kept drifting back to the time they had shared in her coach at the end of that evening. He looked rather silly in that daring hairdo he opted to style just for the party, but it also suited him well, that was if it were five hundred years ago. This Minn'dre seemed to be a big concern for him and she knew that his heart was settled on the maiden, but perhaps such attentions could be swayed over to her if she tried hard enough. Tam'laa had, without a doubt, detected a strong spark between herself and him, although she was rather nonplussed that he blew her off yesterday when they had agreed to go look for his crush. At least he was considerate enough to send her an apology in her tablet's inbox.

Since he was alleged to be in the Black Hood, or at least infiltrating it, as he claimed, she fretted that he may be something of a danger, especially since her father was in the military. Stranger things have happened, she considered, as it was possible the lad and her father might get along regardless. Such fret was also coupled with fascination as she was impressed to the depth of her inner core that he would go through such lengths for a journalism class.

The giant cylindrical terrarium which spun before her simulated a Martian prairie with its local flora, atmosphere, and even gravity which was a third less powerful than that of the earth. She hummed the Gonduanna Princes' song _Wish There Were Ten of You_ as for some strange reason, none of their tunes showed up on her headphones. Perhaps they were downloading an update to all their fans and their flow was down for the time being, she reasoned.

In the terrarium, the tiny Kamdenite hamsters burrowed and played in the little slice of Mars that the biologists at the Circle had recreated for them. Tam'laa was busy calculating their ecological niche as her hum turned to a whistle while she compared the volley of readouts against an earthly environment. The work was fun for the most part, but she wished she had the opportunity to study the dolphin tank instead of these goofy little rodents.

Lord Banda Na'rundi rushed with a brusque stride into the simulation room and tapped his daughter on the shoulder. By pure reflex, she gasped in surprise as the ivory cornrows in her rich black hair clacked with her speed.

"Sorry, Tam. I didn't mean to sneak up on you," her father grimaced with a bit of guilt.

"Yeah! You scared me!" she broke into an immediate smile. "I gathered all that info you wanted with these hamsters. It's uploading to the central flow right now."

"Good! That's fine," her father glanced behind her at two of the animals which were jumping in squeaking merriment off a large rock in their alien gravity. "I need you to come to the communications room. We have another transmission coming in from Olympus."

"Capital," she said without any real glee. Her mind was consumed in part with her project and the other half was wondering about her friends, and On'dinn was on the top of that list. "What do you think they want?"

"Probably nothing but another shipment of supplies," he paused upon his statement. "But the odd thing about that is they aren't due for another four months. Why do you think that might be? Either way, I would like for you to see what a supply request is like and then you can observe the process. You see, the biologists need to discern what kinds of requests are most in demand so they will know what items to procure for the expedition."

"Let me guess. It's probably mana, mana, and... some more mana," Tam'laa surmised with a subdued smirk.

"That's probably true," her father agreed with a slight chuckle. "After all, mana makes the world go 'round. Even on Mars. That is when you would fill an order to Consolidated Power and Light and they would put together a shuttle package to be shipped to Mars. Regardless, they may need more food or specimens, then that is where you would directly come in."

The communications center was bustling with comm officers as well as assorted technicians from the Circle of Climate and Environment. Tam'laa spotted Quen'die's father down the curve of the domed room hunched over the main manascreen. She thought Lord Reyliss was such a nice elf, if not a little nervous. How Quen'die didn't walk all over her father mystified her as she found him to be a touch too easy-going. Tam'laa sometimes wished that her own father wasn't as stern as he was, but she figured that was due to his years in the military. She guessed Quen'die's mother held the disciplinary reins in the home as she seemed much more serious than Lord Reyliss. Perhaps even a bit icy, and that may have been why Lord Reyliss was kind of skittish after years of living with her, she guessed.

"Ferd'inn," Lord Na'rundi called as he and his daughter stood by. "Do you mind if Tam'laa observes an Olympus transmission today?" Her father noticed that Lord Reyliss was chewing on his nails as his eyes were transfixed to the adjustment of the screen before them. In a field of bright blue, the words "INCOMING TRANSMISSION" were advertised.

"Huh? Oh, yes, that's fine," Lord Reyliss tore his eyes from the message on the monitor. "Hi, Tam'laa. Scrunch on in. We have been getting a signal now for the last twelve minutes, but the actual image still needs to transmit."

"What's taking it so long?" Tam'laa asked as she craned her long neck over the heads of the seated comm officers to see the upcoming message.

"Mars is very, very far away," Lord Reyliss scooted over to allow the new arrivals. "According to the servers, this message entered the flow over eight hours ago and it's now just getting here. Our mana can only work so fast across space and since all the mana on Mars is imported, the communications relays aren't as reliant as the network on Earth. It takes a lot of energy from their reserves to transmit the video and audio, so they can only contact us sparingly." The elf began to bite his nails again to the point that it was becoming absentminded regularity. "I hope it isn't an emergency. They aren't due for a shipment request for quite a while."

"That's what I've been wondering, Ferd'inn," Lord Na'rundi broke in with a grave grunt. "They really shouldn't waste energy on the comm if they don't need it. Whatever this message is, it isn't a Mother's Day greeting and it had better not be a Fool's Day joke." To that, Lord Reyliss looked over at his stolid friend and chewed his nails with an even more ravenous fervor.

"Heh. Well, not to worry. I'm sure it's all a routine matter. Perhaps we miscalculated the last shipment of something and they need us to pick up the slack." Ferd'inn was not able to continue his charade of optimism with any amount of ease. He was scared.

"Sir! We have throughput to visual," the comm officer announced as he toggled the console's controls. "Transmission in 3-2-Mark!"

On the screen, the blue field was replaced by an image of the usual communications room up on Olympus Mons which these elves at expedition control had viewed many times. It took a few moments for them to realize that something wasn't quite right. It was almost as if something was missing from the picture, or perhaps, it was that something new was added.

All that could be heard throughout the cavernous control room were the beeps and quips of the communications devices and the steady purr of the air conditioning. All the elves, including Tam'laa, were holding their breaths by instinct at the apparent routine display before them. Something horrible was happening, and they all could feel it.

"Throughput to audio incoming," the comm officer broke their rapt attention.

A form of an elf crawled up from the bottom of the screen as if it were propping itself upright after falling on the floor. Upon righting itself, every elf at the communications console shrunk back in shock as they saw that the person on the other end looked like he, she, or it was covered in blood. Not one member of the crowd at expedition control could tell what the gender of the form on the screen was through the veil of gore covering it.

A female voice with a thick Kumarian accent blurted out in the bloody mess before them. "Passionvale, this is Olympus Mons Traffic Control." She was attempting to sit in the seat at the console but was having immense difficulty as she was in the stupor of obvious terrible pain. Whatever it was that had happened, their Martian comm officer was hurt and the damage looked mortal.

"Gods! What do we do?" Tam'laa tried to control her shocked cry. "Talk to them! Help them!" She didn't really know what else to say as her confused mind wasn't processing everything before her with any amount of accuracy.

"We can't," her father answered while retaining his usual stoicism. "Like Lord Reyliss said, this message is many hours old."

Tam'laa knew this, but her plaintive reaction was pure reflex. She had never seen anything so gruesome in her life. On the manascreen shows, gore and blood was all but a daily occurrence, but this was the real deal and it looked so different from the stuff the production studios tried to replicate. It was almost as if she could not only see the pain of the grievous wounds, but she could feel them as well.

"Banda, we should get Tam'laa out of here," Lord Reyliss swung around with wide, terrified eyes. "She doesn't need to see this stuff."

Tam'laa's father placed a beefy arm on his daughter's shoulder. "No, Ferd'inn, I think she does need to see this. Accidents and damage control are all a part of an expedition."

Ferd'inn was too worried for his own good sometimes, thought Lord Na'rundi. Before his infant son had died, he was a sensitive type who was, by nature, well suited for a nurturing career as a biologist, but as of late, he was downright tense as if he had just seen a wraith around every corner. Na'rundi could even tell that his wife was not pleased with his general demeanor and the two seemed more and more distant from each other.

"This is not an accident," the lady on the comm warned. "We have been compromised. Eh... Oh, gods, it hurts so much!" she grabbed what seemed to be a wounded arm. "I don't know what they are, but they're everywhere and they are trashing the whole place and killing anyone they see!"

"We must have disturbed the natives," Lord Na'rundi rubbed his broad chin in contemplation. Being his daughter for sixteen years, Tam'laa knew that this posture indicated nervousness and worry. His dark brow furrowed deeper and deeper as the transmission flowed.

"They look kind of like elves, but they are a bit bigger. And they're strong! Enough of them can bash in a cured door." The comm officer slipped for a moment and righted herself again. "They've got the Commander and the golem master. Honestly, I think I am the only one left. One of them nearly tore me apart with its claws. Most of this is my own blood!"

"Look like us?" Ferd'inn chirped in fear. "What do you think they are?" He fumbled with his wiry glasses which was one of his many collected nervous tics. Unlike Tam'laa's father, he wasn't holding up so well.

"Martians I presume, Ferd'inn," Lord Na'rundi answered him with a snap. He noticed how well his daughter was taking this terrible display and, when compared to Ferd'inn, he figured that _he_ should be the one to leave the room. "The real deal."

"Do not attempt to rescue me. I will be dead soon, especially when they find me. Gods! They're all over the place," the comm officer would slip into Kumarian every now and again. This was all due to her reeling senses and fear. Her mind was regressing as her life spilled out.

"I think this is curtains for the expedition," Lord Na'rundi intoned with his deep voice of concern. His blunt utterance triggered Ferd'inn to pop his head up from the comm like a Gonduannian meerkat. Tonight there will be a horrible fight with Glynna, he just knew. One of the many they've had in the last couple of months. In the back of his mind, he was already making arrangements for the children to stay at their nanna's.

"They keep drawing these symbols and this word all over the walls. Much of the time in elven blood! To anyone at Expedition Control, decipher this word: ' _KRO-TO-AN_.' It's everywhere!" The comm officer held up a bloody tablet displaying the strange word. Without a wasted instant, her earthly counterparts transcribed it to their own devices.

The elves at the consoles moved in closer to survey the control tower on the screen. It was filthy with dripping gore and blood and, upon closer inspection, the mysterious word the comm officer had mentioned was indeed displayed on a far wall.

"We'll have to get Glynna to translate this. It probably isn't in the library banks, however," Na'rundi reasoned as he too had never heard of the word. It wasn't Atlantean or his native Gonduannian, as far as he knew. He noticed that one of the comm officers seated before them, Praditch Go'mar, was Kumarian.

"Officer Go'mar, is this word Kumarian?" the military attaché looked down at him with an air of authority.

"Not that I know of, Colonel," he answered in dutiful response. "Unless it's obscure. It could be ancient and never used anymore. Most likely, it is a word only these locals use, thereby making it genuinely Martian."

"Mitlan is going to give birth to bear cubs when he hears this," Ferd'inn whined with a mousy wail. Centeo Mitlan was all about the bottom line when it came to finances, and Lord Reyliss figured this event tore that vital line out from under this expedition. He rummaged through his mind as to what he was going to tell the children tonight. Perhaps he should leave that to Glynna. Either way, Mitlan was going to be in his office in a short time and everyone was sure to get an angry earful.

"You can say that again. I'll be back to checking casters in the supply lines by this time next week," Lord Na'rundi huffed in utter disappointment. "Even the old elf Mitlan is going to take one in the chops with this, and when he suffers, everyone under him suffers tenfold." At that, Banda rubbed his chin again as Ferd'inn readjusted his glasses.

"Take this word and stay away from Mars. I don't know if they have the means to come to Earth, but if they do; gods bless us all. Even our casters are no use against them," her bloodied face revealed wide amber eyes and everyone viewing the transmission could see that she was slipping away. "Again, stay away from Mars and gods bless. Communications Officer Mia Bha'vaal, signing off. Final Transmission." With that, the screen flashed black and turned back to its banal blue homescreen as if it had never hosted the gruesome scene. On it, the stark words " _Transmission Severed_ " stood in innocent white.

***

The Ward of Acquisition and Archives was Glynna Reyliss' domain and sanctum sanctorum. Scrolls upon scrolls and tomes upon tomes of information, some thousands of years old lined the shelves, and tablets of all makes and models rested in their manabeds to be on constant recharge. In the back of the office, a storage room housed relics and curiosities throughout the centuries which she had acquired from many expeditions and archeological digs.

Glynna was proud of these findings as they reflected her toughness and bravery. Some of the items housed in this enigmatic chamber had required almost heroic effort to obtain, and her children and their friends sometimes nicknamed her "Lauryl'la Kroff'tin" in honor of the fictional adventurous heroine of the popular video game series. Nevertheless, Glynna protected her little realm with ferocity and no one was allowed in it without the proper authorization.

She played with her thick red braid as it wrapped around her shoulders and into her finely manicured nails like a boa. Thoughts of Centeo Mitlan would not leave her mind no matter how hard she tried to expel them, and it was as simple as that. For the last month or so, Glynna found that her efforts to quash her feelings for him were in vain. She felt like a teen maiden again and the joy of it overrode the guilt of her affair. Just because of the Xochian, she had loved to come to work more than ever. With Ferd'inn, and even her children, it always seemed like her projects and artifacts came first, and she loved her position for the chance to study those prized objects. With Centeo, such archeological trappings were now taking the back seat to his wonderful affections. In truth, she had never even felt like this as a young maiden, as even then, her mind was consumed with scrolls and tablets and statues. These feelings in her spirit and body were never this intense. Not even with her husband.

As for her husband, she was weary of comparing him to Centeo. She was quite settled with the fact that her edgy little lord was no match for the financier. The Xochian mogul was simply superior in every respect and didn't seem to have any flaws other than his dedication to his work. But so what, Glynna reasoned? She knew very well that she too was guilty of her own professional absorptions. Her husband just didn't hold the same passion, in many ways, as Lord Mitlan. Such a passion for anything and everything had to be why he was so successful and Ferd'inn was, well...Ferd'inn.

Sometimes, Glynna fantasized what the sun elf was like as a child. Athletic and driven, to be certain. Most likely, he was always on the go and it was possible that he was a bit of a bully when the need arose. She supposed the difference between her husband and Centeo was that Ferd'inn hugged trees while Lord Mitlan planted them and had the absolute power to chop them down.

The red light above her door blinked. " _Doctor Reyliss, you have visitors_ ," chimed the bell. Glynna rolled her eyes as she knew it was sure to be Ferd'inn. Centeo wouldn't be in the office for another half hour and she and her husband were ordered to a meeting with him for some odd reason. With devilish glee, she hoped it would be him announcing to her husband his love for her, but that would be a tragic event for everyone in the end, especially the children. Either way, Glynna's bags were all but packed and she would be a permanent fixture in the Xochian's home in a short time. The sun elf had even informed his daughter of the bold move just last night.

"Glynna, we have a big problem here." It was Banda Na'rundi and the look on his face was like that of a routed commander on a far-away battlefield.

"Yeah, Banda, what's the deal?" With a thoughtless glance, she looked over at her sheepish husband who was standing behind him, almost as if he was hiding. He looked as if he had seen an actual ghost, but such a look was becoming all the more frequent out of him. Not a big deal.

"I'll be blunt because we don't have a lot of time," Na'rundi boomed. "The Martian expedition has been compromised. Everyone there is dead. Killed. By what we aren't sure, but they are not us."

Glynna couldn't contain her shock. Her large eyes popped out like the greenest emeralds as she clutched her pearls by reflex. "What?" she hissed in unbelievable terror.

"We just received the transmission from the apparent sole survivor of the expedition. She claimed, to the best of her knowledge, that these large, elf-like beings assaulted Cydonia and Olympus Mons and tore everything and everyone apart. " Na'rundi bowed his braided head to collect his thoughts.

This was not the kind of defeat he was accustomed to. During the Tel'lemurian Conflict, he was at least able to try to save stranded soldiers, even if the odds were stacked against his unit. This situation was pure helplessness as the expedition was, in truth, millions of miles away.

"What are we going to do? We need to tell Centeo!" Lord Reyliss winced without any effort to hide it upon hearing his wife refer to their boss by his first name. His suspicions were growing by the day, and Lord Mitlan was on the apex of his list of prime suspects.

"One of our comm officers is already on the horn with him. We'll worry about that later." Na'rundi straightened himself with authority. "What I need for you to do is translate this word. The comm officer reported that these aggressors left it all over the walls in elven blood. Disgusting, I know, but I need for you to track it down for me."

Lady Reyliss looked at the word on the tablet before her. "'KRO-TO-AN,' she, with some thought, read aloud. "Well, I've never heard of it, but maybe it's old manaspeech."

With haste, she checked it against the infobanks on her computer and could not find it in any modern lexicon worldwide. She threw up her hands in frustration. She was much more accustomed to working under less-strict time constraints.

"Okay, it's nowhere in the modern infobase, so maybe it's ancient," she surmised as she bit on a bright green thumbnail. "I'll be in the stacks, so it'll take a few. If everyone will please leave so I can concentrate."

"All right, but make it only a few," Na'rundi pointed. She hated his condescending attitude and couldn't help roll her eyes at her imposing colleague. If this event weren't so dire, she would have made it a point to take her dear sweet time in defiant retaliation.

Judging by the phonetic construction of the word, she mulled over any possible linguistic flavor. Never hearing the word spoken by any of its native speakers, she had to piece together missing portions of this puzzle. Its form was guttural, almost like old Atlantean, or maybe Thuless'in. The oddest thing about it was it was written by the assailants in an elven script, so there had to be some cultural connection to Earth.

It seemed like an eternity as she rummaged in the crowded stacks. Those old tomes were printed in ink, which hadn't been used in a regular fashion in over a thousand years, as the modern elf lived in a more-or-less paperless society. Book after book, she searched for it in ancient lexicons, but could find no decisive match. It all was so frustrating, until she thought of the kingdoms of Avalon; the old home of the orcs.

She made a beeline to the _Parables of Bonn'fyr_ , which focused on the battles of the legendary general who fought glorious campaigns against the orcs in the Second War. Her department was proud to have acquired an official first addition of the gallant tome which was almost two thousand years old and worth millions of brens.

Banda and Ferd'inn waited for an answer out by the water cooler. Reyliss was gulping down cup after cup of the cool liquid. He felt like he was going to explode from so many different little bombs planted in his thin body and spirit and he hoped H2O would defuse some of them. Most of all, he was concerned with the lost mission and the dreadful beasts that caused such a terror, but that worry was matched in equal parts with the possibility of the end of his marriage. She looked so beautiful in her office and she looked even lovelier when she sneered at him. At that instant, he knew that they would have their final argument soon, and, more likely than not, tonight. He worried about how it would affect the children as well, but he could only juggle two terrible notions at one time.

Na'rundi broke him from his fugue of discomfort. "We need to take this problem seriously. Mitlan's gonna pull the plug on us."

"We don't know that yet." Ferd'inn couldn't stand the bluntness of his friend sometimes, even though in the back of his mind he knew such a fate was quite possible. The elf prayed the boss would only put the project on a temporary hiatus, but Lord Reyliss knew this wasn't a problem that would just go away on its own.

"What's worse is, what if Travius is right about those pyramids out there," Na'rundi was frowning even deeper in thought. "What if the pyramids are somehow linked to whatever in the Nine Hells is going on up there? That old freak had claimed being a psychic for years and half the world laughed at him, and today, we find out that he may be correct."

"A broken clock tells the truth twice a day, Banda," Ferd'inn let out a nervous chuckle.

"Maybe so, but come on, elf! This massacre and those pyramids' arrival over the course of one week can't be idle coincidence," the gold elf was becoming perturbed with his old friend's scientific skepticism.

"I hate it when you make an amazing point," Ferd'inn flashed his comrade a wry look. "What do you elect we do about it?"

"I want to speak with the High Command of the ADF and at least double the forces guarding those things. We need to be prepared for an army of whatever killed our people up there to come spilling out into the streets," his eyes widened with noticeable fear. "I can even get in touch with my superiors in the Gonduanna Forces and maybe we can lend you some surplus, if we have any left over. But you know my people will be busy with our own problems."

"We need to wait for Mitlan to give us the go-ahead before we go running to the media with this. There will be total chaos unlike anything we've seen if this cat gets out of the bag." Ferd'inn adjusted his glasses for the thousandth time. "Is there any way we can impose martial law without saying that we are?"

"No," Banda began with a grim chuckle. "We either do it or get taken by surprise when it's too late."

Lady Reyliss emerged from her sanctioned office looking rather flustered. The shocked glaze to her eyes remained, but she almost seemed possessed this time. The renowned archeologist and adventurer who had stared death in the face on many a dig or expedition was never this offput by much of anything. Seeing his stalwart wife in such a frazzled state did nothing to calm her husband's jitters.

"I found it," she stated, as if her words were cast from steel. "It's bad. Real bad."

"You mean this is an earthly word?" Lord Na'rundi asked in disbelief.

"Sure. Earthly script usually denotes an earthly word," Glynna lectured with a raised eyebrow. "You just won't believe the source of the lingo."

"Let's have it," Na'rundi stood, by reflex, at military attention. Such posturing prompted Ferd'inn to roll his eyes sometimes.

"According to _The Parables of Bonn'fyr_ ," she began. "The word 'KRO-TO-AN' is ancient Avalonian. Avalonian _orcish_." There was no wonder now why she appeared to have been hit by a rock. Essentially, all of them had seen terrible spirits that day and the eyes of the two males lit up as well in horror.

"Gods..." Na'rundi covered his mouth, as if to keep a cry from escaping. "How..."

"It means 'blood feud,' Banda," Glynna dropped it like a ten-ton boulder. "Simply put, orcs still live up on Mars and they hate us as much there as they did here."

"But we've seen Mars! It's uninhabited by any self-aware life!" the gold elf protested as if it would make these vile orcs somehow go away.

"Banda, we've only been on its surface for a mere four years," she chided him. "Perhaps these orcs live underground or in caves like our troglodytes. After all, they weren't the sunniest folk in ancient times, according to legend, so it's quite plausible."

"That does it," Na'rundi began with gritted teeth. He was readying himself in his mind for a new and long campaign. "I'm getting on the horn with High Command."

"Ah, but we have to wait for the money to talk before we can mobilize," Ferd'inn cut in with hurt sarcasm. His unabashed rancor for Mitlan was now apparent and Glynna shot her husband an ugly sneering look in the Xochian's defense.

On cue, the halls of the Circle rang out in song, " _Lord and Doctor Reyliss. Report to Lord Mitlan's office, please_."

This was going to be rich, figured Ferd'inn. Glynna's rebuking glance was broken the instant upon the sudden announcement and her angry eyes were now filled with unabashed and excited joy. With each second, Ferd'inn's nagging worries throughout the last couple of months were confirmed all the more.

"Come on," Glynna snapped at her husband as if he were a little elfling who was acting up at the market. It almost seemed like the mere act of walking to the boss's office by his side was a parental chore that she couldn't be bothered with. He responded with a wounded glance to which she rolled her eyes.

As they trod down the long hallway, Ferd'inn noticed that the plush carpet to Mitlan's office was a brilliant crimson. Mitlan wasn't even a permanent member of their Circle, yet he received all this pretentious glory. Well, his money did keep the project afloat, reasoned the elf, but in all seriousness, a _red carpet_?

He strolled next to his wife in silence. He couldn't help not to look at her, but she seemed to make a point to display ignorance to his presence. In her hands was a small pearl compact and she was applying a smoked-ruby color to her lips like she was getting ready for the big date in a hurry. Perhaps she was, he wondered? Ferd'inn realized that he feared for his whole livelihood while his wife's eyes read nothing less than eager happiness, almost as if she was possessed by the love goddess.

The monstrous mahogany double doors to Mitlan's sanctum opened on their automatic own. At the head of the deep chamber, Centeo's large and booming form was silhouetted by the bleeding white glow of the overcast day from the panoramic window beyond. To Ferd'inn, the elder looked like seven feet of power.

"Please enter," he ordered, as there was no rich mirth in his voice as usual. "We have many problems today. Many problems. Some you know, of course, and a few you may not," he paused to fuel the drama as the two elves in his audience maintained respectful silence like admonished schoolchildren. "One of these issues involves your daughter."

Ferd'inn and Glynna looked to each other in simultaneous shock. How could Quen'die figure in to a possible Martian attack? Why would a Xochian financial mogul care about the comings and goings of a sixteen-year-old maiden? Then they both remembered that he had wanted to meet with them even before knowledge of this dreadful transmission was in the minds of any elf on Earth.

"Please come in and close the door behind you."
And Now, a Break from Our Regularly-Scheduled Program

" **T** am'laa is going to be so mad when she finds out we got to play runta today," Quen'die whispered into Lauryl'la's ear. "She's stuck over at my father's lab playing with mice or something instead."

"I think ringball is more Tam's thing," Lauryl'la commented back. She was tying the second knot into her auburn mane which created a jointed ponytail from out the top of her head.

From across the long field, she could see the opposing team which was culled from another Kinesthetics and Kinetics period. To celebrate the return to classes after a week of closure, the coaches from the maidens' adept school decided to hold an impromptu off-season runta match between the different sections.

Quen'die considered herself lucky to not have Venn'lith Mitlan in any of her courses, but today she was staring at her from far down the green as she was a member of the team opposing hers. Her sights were on a dead lock that could not be broken. Quen'die noticed this and knew very well that the fiend maiden had nothing but more pain and a possible cheat or two up her grimy sleeves. The Xochian wouldn't get away with it. Not here, Quen'die decided. The runta field was neither a posh seaside villa nor an exorbitant treehouse. It was Quen'die's domain and she, as the Red Tempest, would treat the insane sun elf to a defeat that rivaled the humiliation she had experienced on Saturnalia night.

She wrapped her thick scarlet braids around her neck like three boas and tugged at the skin-tight runta suit. It was feeling a bit looser than usual, she found as she double-checked her leg and elbow guards. "I think I'm losing weight!"

"It's probably just nerves. We've been through a boatload this week," Lauryl'la reasoned as she slipped on her curved runta glove. The wooden sports gear was a hooklike basket that was designed to hurl the runta puck across the field and catch it as well. "Don't sweat it. All those fried mushrooms we had the other night will catch up to you in no time."

"Okay, guys, I need you two to lock onto the center after the faceoff," Hyrax broke their personal conversation. Quen'die noticed that her former object of affection was afflicted with dark circles under his already dark eyes. "We aren't used to these guys' style, so keep a good lookout and don't pop off."

"Feelin' better today, Cap'n?" the redhead jabbed. Quen'die still could not contain her disappointment from his behavior at Sig'ryn's. Now she knew what her parents meant when they would say, "I'm not angry at you; I'm disappointed."

"Don't worry about me, kiddo," her captain answered without a skip. "Just focus on the center guards and watch your flank. If they close in on you, just pull one of your famous tornados and then Rylla can be free to receive."

It was just like night and day. Hyrax was all business now, as if he had never let himself get out of hand on Saturnalia, or any other night for that matter. This was the Hyrax that she respected, but now that she knew of his tawdry double life of getting belligerent and intoxicated and bullying innocent people, such respect was paper thin at best.

"Yeah, focus like he focuses on steins of mead, Dee!" Lauryl'la hissed a sarcastic whisper into her ear when he was further down the formation. It sounded like a parody of the coach's advice.

"How can I forget?" Quen'die added as she inserted the gummy teeth guard into her mouth. As she looked down the way, she could still see Venn'lith burning holes into her form with her angry black eyes. At this, the maiden double-checked her shin guards again. The Xochian was going to play dirty; of this she was now certain.

"Period Six A versus Period Six B runta match will now commence," the coach's voice over the loudspeaker reverberated through the grey afternoon air. "Please report to your positions for the faceoff!"

Quen'die and Lauryl'la flanked either side of their captain. In a direct line across from Quen'die hunkered the slender form of Ferd'inn Kokoff who was the maiden's opposing counterpart.

"'Sup, Dee," he shot with an amicable mumble through his teeth guard.

"'Sup," she chirped back in a tone that was just as garbled.

Venn'lith stood as the opposing team's captain. She must have been as good at the sport as she had claimed, otherwise she wouldn't have achieved such a high position. The sun elf was not concentrating on the two-bren gold piece which was set on the squat runta block between her and Hyrax. All of her energies and attentions were directed on Quen'die Reyliss as she ground her teeth into her guard and growled. Despite her smoldering anger, she still won the coin grab, and, without effort, much to Hyrax's surprise. Quen'die shot him a brief dirty look as she knew that he was still slow from the self-abuse he had committed at the party.

"Period Six B has control of the field!" the loudspeaker sang.

"You're dead, Quen'die!" Venn'lith hissed through her guarded teeth.

Hyrax raised a finger and circled it in the air with frantic energy signaling for his team to fall back. Quen'die shadowed his movements and shimmied behind one of their beefy line guards. Lauryl'la looked over to her friend and rolled her eyes. This was going to be an interesting match, she figured.

Her captain looked nervous for the first time in Quen'die's memory. Venn'lith was tearing down the field while passing and receiving the puck with her forewords like it was a child's game of hot potato. Not one of Hyrax's teammates could catch her. His designated line guard, Ford'yss Tiras, made an honest effort to block her incoming storm of force, but she bounded over his crouched form with her thick legs as if he were nothing but a stepstool. Quen'die kept her focus on the barreling Xochian, but she was so fast such attention was difficult to align.

Looking back, Quen'die could see their hefty goalie, Bir'ginn De'vallera's wide-eyed fear though the holes in his ivory mask. Venn'lith was approaching with blinding power while he was looking ever the less sure-footed the closer she got to his runta bunker. Quen'die never thought much of his goalkeeping abilities, but that was never the usual matter as their team was more renowned for offense.

This play was out of their team's style. The Sabercats didn't hunker back like a frightened turtle. They were fast and lean and drove the puck to the bunker like an iron spike. Quen'die was growing weary of the defensive play and decided to take the initiative as Hyrax continued to hobble backwards ever further in hopes that his team could stop the charging sun elf. As he glanced back, he realized that he was fast losing precious runway.

Venn'lith played high as she leaped and bounded over her opponents. She wasn't as confrontational as Quen'die had assumed since the sun elf almost avoided tapping a single adversary, much less collide with them. Speed and agility seemed to be her forte instead of bashing and brute force. It was time to change the maiden's good fortune with one of her special tornadic moves.

Red ropes of braid, as thick as the netting on a commercial ship swirled like a mad dervish through the air as the crimson maiden smashed into the Xochian speedster; knocking off her goggles, thus losing the puck. Venn'lith howled a curse in her native tongue while she fell back onto her buff haunches. By the time she pivoted into the opposing direction, Hyrax and Lauryl'la were relaying the prized puck toward the sun elf's bunker with joy. Quen'die soon joined her mates in their triangular formation on a grass road to victory.

"Six A has the puck on a return save!" the coach boomed through the air. "Hyrax is closing in on the bunker! It looks like we have a goal but seconds away!"

Venn'lith was closing the gap with valiant effort, as Quen'die could see while peering back over her shoulder. After a second look, she noticed that the Xochian maniac was making a beeline, not for the puck, but for her. As their distance grew ever smaller, Quen'die could hear her vitriolic growl incoming louder and louder.

"It's in! Six A wins the first round!" Quen'die heard the amplified announcement of their victory, but she could not share her team's celebration as tough, violent meat slammed her svelte frame into the hard rubber of the bunker's wall. Before she even knew it, Venn'lith had ripped off her goggles and managed a vise grip around her center braid as she straddled her prone form.

"Time to go to sleep, you little wench!" the furious maiden's wiry fist was drawn back and ready to rabbit punch the back of her head; all knobs and nails. It was by fortune that Quen'die's hair was so dense and the tug her enemy gave her did not hurt at all.

As the trapped elfmaid shut her eyes in wincing terror and readied her body for a horrible thrashing, she soon realized that there was no delivery. Upon opening her lids, she learned that Ferd'inn and Hyrax had both pulled the sun elf off of her and were trying in desperation to restrain her fury. Hyrax was a big elf, but he was still having noticeable trouble subduing the enraged muscle of Venn'lith Mitlan.

"You have to calm down, Lith!" Hyrax tried to reason with her as he attempted the wrangle, but such wisdom could not be conveyed as the Xochian was spouting expletives a mile a minute in her foreign tongue. It was a wonder if she could even understand Atlantean at that moment as she had appeared to be possessed by the pure id of rage.

"Somebody get the coach!" Ferd'inn shouted to anyone within earshot. Being more fragile than Hyrax, Quen'die could see him straining in earnest as Venn'lith's body was breaking free of his insufficient grip. That maiden was nothing but meat and anger and plenty of it. What on earth was her father feeding her, and where could I get some of it, Quen'die wondered?

Lauryl'la grabbed her friend and spun her around, giving her a good once-over. "Are you Okay, maiden?" Quen'die could see the look of cold fear in her eyes as she glanced over at the two lads trying to restrain the maddened maiden. "We gotta get you out of here. No male in the history of elfdom has ever successfully broken up a catfight. It just doesn't happen."

Coach Eldredd approached the crowd of nervous elves who were forming a circle to view the wild fracas. Quen'die hoped that this would defuse the situation, but she wasn't sure that even the authority of the academic wardens could bring Venn'lith back to her senses. That was if she had any in the first place. "All right! What's going on here?"

"Venn'lith Mitlan slammed Quen'die Reyliss into the bunker and tried to start a catfight with her just because she sucks at runta, Coach!" Lauryl'la never minced words, and her insulting candor fired up the Xochian even more as her screams sounded like something that could only be described as demonic. Ferd'inn and Hyrax were still trying to hold her back, but even Hyrax was losing his strong grip.

"Everyone fan-out!" ordered the coach. He approached the three elves with ginger care and raised a hand in hopes that he could deescalate the fiery maiden. By the maniacal look in her eyes, he could tell that he would have his work cut out for him.

"Okay, Venn'lith. Just ease up. There are still two more plays to go in this match," he was fumbling for things to say as his words were not getting through to her, judging by her lack of registration. "Eh, you haven't lost this one yet, so... don't go on losing it!" He tapped his capped head to relay the message that she was indeed acting crazy.

Her body was still attempting to jerk free from the males, yet by sheer will, they managed to hold on by a thread. Perhaps it was the knowledge that upon releasing her, she would be certain to pummel the redhead in one mere movement. The coach seemed to know this as well as he gestured for Quen'die and Lauryl'la to remove their persons from Venn'lith's sight.

The two targeted maidens hunkered behind the runta bunker to keep out of the Xochian's eyeshot. Both knew very well that if she did at last calm down, she would flare up again the instant she saw the crimson plaits of Quen'die Reyliss. Lauryl'la covered her mouth to stifle a devilish giggle. Venn'lith's behavior was just too funny and she was tempted to stand up and point and laugh at her for acting like an elfling fool. The desire was almost uncontrollable.

"Who sunk the puck, anyway? You or Hyrax?" Quen'die was now infected with Lauryl'la's mischievous glee. Her tall friend crossed her eyes and nodded in the direction of their struggling captain while she stuck out her tongue in playful defiance. Both the elfmaids erupted into laughter at that.

While the coach made a vainglorious effort to return Venn'lith back to reason and reality, the field's loudspeaker's hum buzzed through the air. "This is Vice Warden Golom'bin. I apologize for the interruption of your classes, but we have an announcement of a situation concerning our kingdom. If you will please turn your sights to your class's manascreen, I would appreciate it if you all gave this broadcast your undivided attention. Thank you."

During normal times, the giant manascreen on the field delivered the scores of the official school games and sometimes sport juice advertisements or even pertinent announcements by the institution's administration. Instead of such mundane content, the famous face of Quay'liss Dalian was displayed in monumental proportions for all the young elves on the field to see.

"Oh crumbs, here we go again," Lauryl'la huffed. "What is it this time? Giant cubes?"

Quen'die rolled her eyes to that in agreement. "Yeah, and look at her hair! She's totally ripping off the Princess." The reporter's hair was indeed the exact same color and fountain-like style as the little king's mother had worn on the night of the ill-fated address.

"Aww, she's just trying to be patriotic or something. Take a look around the field! All the maidens are sporting that look today." Lauryl'la pointed out her observation as half of the females dotting the green were honoring her look, albeit not with as much professional grace. It was a rather difficult hairdo to emulate.

"Good afternoon Atlantis!" Dalian began with her usual chirpy greeting which turned into a dark tone of gravity in the measure of a beat. "Today we have an urgent report from the Circle of Climate and Environment as officials there have delivered claim of a terrible, heartwrenching event that has supposedly happened to the Mars expedition."

"Gods! That's where my folks work!" Quen'die gasped as Lauryl'la gripped her hand in immediate consolation.

"For more on this dreadful matter, we bring you now live, to this Circle with our guest Centeo Mitlan who has been a primary financier for this monumental venture. Good afternoon, Lord Mitlan."

The massive screen split to focus on the large elf who was looking a bit haggard in contrast to his usual impeccability. Compared to the slighter frame of Dalian, he appeared to push her out of the screen's real estate with his bulky presence.

"That's Witchy-poo's father!" Quen'die pointed a long digit at the giant elm screen as to educate her best friend on the lineage of pure evil. Lauryl'la looked back over to Venn'lith and noticed that the maiden was now becalmed by her father's immense presence. The two males were no longer holding her slimy body in their grips as she stood before the screen in rapt attention while waiting for the one who sired her to speak.

"Ohh... _Papi_! Please help me, I'm insane!" Lauryl'la mocked the Xochian in a sweet, high-pitched voice which only made Quen'die giggle.

"And good afternoon to you," he responded with a dashing wink. Quen'die thrust out her tongue in anger at the image of the money mogul as she remembered how he had kissed her mother's hand during that horrid visit. That gesture he made to her that night left her cold.

"What is the situation on Mars? We have reports incoming that there has been an accident or a disaster or some sort of travesty. What more can you tell the people about this?" Whether or not Dalian was confused in truth by the situation was unknown, but she was doing her best to wrangle viewers.

"It was an attack. Pure and simple, Lady Dalian," the Xochian lord stated with a blunt drop. "This morning we received a transmission dated from last night out of Olympus Mons Traffic Control. Eh, that is the tower that essentially regulates the sparse traffic from Earth to Mars. The communications officer stationed there claimed that she was the sole survivor of an attack by beings whom she had described as elf-like but bigger. To add to the drama, she claimed they all had razor-sharp claws."

Dalian appeared astounded and afflicted with genuine concern by the sun elf's grim account. "So, what you are saying is, we are not alone up there? There may be some sorts of native inhabitants who are obviously hostile on Mars? Is that correct?"

"We only have video and audio reports of the incident. We do not have any documented proof of the aggressors themselves, but the communications officer was indeed in a terrible state and quite apparently on death's door as she made the transmission. All our prayers do go out to her family, of course, and so on and so forth," Lord Mitlan added with a blithe wave.

All the teen elves on the field covered their hearts and mouths in shock at his assessment. Amongst the impromptu audience, sniffles and sobs could be heard, although mostly from the females. The coach took off his wedge-shaped hat and covered the right side of his chest in solemn honor.

"Why don't we send a rescue team or at least a mission of special forces to investigate these claims?" the reporter challenged. She had to cover her bases as it was predictable that many in her viewing audience were thinking of such a valiant option. The majority of those folks were war veterans and supporters of the United Standard Party who were almost always hot to wage battle at the slightest upset on any portion of the globe. Or Mars.

"Sadly, I would if I could, but this is too much of a risk to deliver even more elves to their deaths." Mitlan was playing to the fears of the general audience, as if this mysterious enemy was unstoppable and impervious to any earthly effort. "We really don't know what we are dealing with up there, but we do know that whoever, or whatever they are; they are tough. All forty spirits who gloriously served on that expedition are now gone," he made a contrived sigh of sorrow to pack in the moribund message.

"By the gods!" Dalian added to the despairing remark. "The entire expedition is dead? What are the plans then for Mars, Lord Mitlan?"

"The expedition is currently on a permanent hiatus," he answered with barely a beat. "From the looks of things, it will most likely not resume within our lifetimes. Mars, for the most part, is all but lost to us."

"Rylla!" Quen'die grabbed her friend's armored shoulders and looked her square in the eyes. "What will happen to my parents? That expedition is their lives!" Tears were welling up in both of their eyes and the two soon joined the rest of the weeping elves as they held each other in consolation.

"How can the people of Atlantis support our kingdom in this interplanetary crisis?" the blond lady let out a genuine choke. "I can't believe I actually had to say 'interplanetary,' but that is what this is."

"Precisely. This is a crisis between worlds," Mitlan adjusted himself for effect. "As such, we are now very concerned about the pyramids. This attack on our base at Cydonia is much too coincidental with the appearance of these monoliths. Because of this, I have been in direct contact with Atlantean High Command, as well as our allies in Gonduanna's High Command, to report on any developments in our investigation between these two very strange and terrible phenomena.

"To the people of Atlantis, from a direct proclamation by the King himself: As of 6 p.m. tonight, limited martial law will be put into effect nationwide. ADF patrols will be doubled and forces around the pyramids will be bolstered for national safety as our military is on full alert. Anyone found outside their homes past the hour of 10 p.m. until the hour of 6 a.m. will be arrested and detained until further notice. All schools in the area will close once again for the rest of the year. All power, communications and utilities are now under the jurisdiction of his majesty's government. So please, prepare for possible intermittent blackouts if the need arises. This is all for the greater good of our nation."

"Oh great," Lauryl'la groaned. "A four-year-old elfling is telling _me_ when to go to bed! Lame."

"You have heard this as an official address, lords and ladies. There exists a state of martial law for all of Atlantis as of 6 p.m. tonight. We, of course, will keep you informed and updated on any developments regarding this situation," Dalian reverted back to her usual robotic delivery of pacifying reportage. It was no wonder some elves referred to her as "the News Golem."

"A royal decree will be sent to your tablets and phones this evening prior to the enactment, so please check your inboxes for this," Mitlan continued. "Along with the decree, the government has provided official instructions on how to live your lives while we are under martial law and how your rights will be altered. Remember, lords and ladies, this is only a temporary condition as our lives will return to normal as soon as this situation is resolved."

"Looks like my folks are gonna be super busy, huh?" Lauryl'la thought about how the Civil Wardens would have their hands full, leaving her to fend for herself the majority of her waking days.

"One more point I must address," Mitlan commanded of the screen.

"Yes, please continue," Dalian beckoned the financial elder. "Your time here is unlimited."

"To any citizen living within the vicinity of any of the pyramids, it is now highly advised that you evacuate your homes and make arrangements for residence elsewhere," Mitlan moved in closer to the reporter's manamirrors. "In the coming days, the ADF will erect temporary living quarters to house any citizen that has no other option for residence or cannot afford to relocate entirely."

Venn'lith was being ushered into the school by two uniformed health wardens. Her hands covered her eyes as if she were bawling, but Quen'die and Lauryl'la assumed that she was trying to garner sympathy from her father's broadcast in order to delete the embarrassing memory of her violent tantrum from her classmates' minds.

"Aw, poor little Lith. Can't handle seeing her father tell the whole kingdom what to do," Lauryl'la sneered as the double doors of the school shut behind the Xochian.

"Well, it was the King's decree, actually," Quen'die corrected her. "Not that I would ever stick up for that witch in a million years. Just saying."

"Whatever. Let's just get this day over with and start an early summer break that we can't enjoy now." Her auburned friend was miffed by the state of martial law. Ever since obtaining her license, she reveled in her freedom and was eager to get a job, even if it was with her folks down at the station filling up casters with red mana. Quen'die often thought her friend was a little too impatient to grow up, although she wondered if she herself was not enthusiastic enough.

***

As Quen'die stuffed her gear into her satchel in the locker rooms, Lauryl'la came over and nudged her. "Hey, you need to watch out. While we were in the waterfalls, Agrat Ma'lott and Isheth Z'nunim were staring you down big time."

Agrat and Isheth completed Venn'lith's terrible trio. The two maidens were nothing other than tittering sycophants that served at the Xochian's left and right wings. Both were rather wealthy as they lived in the same beachside neighborhood as did Ferd'inn Kokoff, but neither of them shared his honest scrollsmarts. Nor were they a crafty couple as Venn'lith made all of their decisions for them and the two followed without question. Sometimes the young sun elf would buy them off with little shopping trips to the Grand Market, but such favors carried a hefty price. Both the glomming maidens knew that their tab was running up higher and higher and that they were beholden to Venn'lith by her gracious efforts at friendship.

"Whatever," Quen'die recoiled. "They're total wimps. I could lick both of them easily, especially since their handler is currently being spoiled in the Academic Warden's office, undoubtedly." She was feeling the boost of courage from her victorious maneuvers at the runta match earlier. There was nothing quite like being good at something and winning.

As her friend had warned, the twinning twosome headed in a beeline toward her, stepping in tandem as if they would forget how to walk if either of them broke out of their swaying stride. Quen'die realized that she sometimes played second fiddle to Lauryl'la, but she also owned her fair share of authority in their long friendship. These two were complete followers who lived their lives for a spoiled rich elfmaid who had only been in town for a mere four months.

"Hi, Quen'die Reyliss," Agrat had announced with pretentious scorn in her voice. Quen'die knew that Agrat had no real ill feelings toward her, but Venn'lith most likely put her up to whatever she was about to do.

"Yeah, uh...Venn'lith Mitlan wanted us to tell you that 'everything has been taken care of' and that 'being poor is gonna suck,'" Isheth completed the confrontation for her brainless friend. In that moment, the two looked at each other and smirked as if they were long-lost twins who shared a foul neural link with each other.

Quen'die couldn't react with any sort of decent comeback to those identical clowns. She knew what it was the two toadies were implying in that dreadful message. Venn'lith had snitched on her to her father for doing all but nothing and that sick message had been relayed to her folks. The ultimatum had been executed, signed, sealed and delivered. All was too late for her, she surmised, and whatever the Xochian said to her father was going to herald the end of her family. Quen'die fought back a floodplain of tears.

"B-bye skank," Agrat waved with idiotic vigor as the two walked out of the locker room in the same syncopation. Even their long braids swung in unison as they sauntered off with brisk speed while giggling at the payload of emotional pain they had just dropped on their victim.

After the door shut, much like the fate of her family, Quen'die broke into a soulful bawl. The last thing she wanted to do now was to go home, but the final period had just ended. More than anything, she wanted to find Lauryl'la and get her unwavering support. Her parents would be so enraged with her when she got home, but most of all, her mother. Knowing this, she debated on asking her friend if she could spend another night there or perhaps even run away. Such a plan would be sure to fail as Lauryl'la's parents would be the ones to haul her in for juvenile flight.

In the school's courtyard, she saw her friend's jointed auburn topknot swaying in the heavy spring breeze. Quen'die thanked the gods that the maiden was the tallest female in class so she could see her above the heads of the other elves who were preparing to enter an early summer of locked-down woe.

"Rylla!" Quen'die all but screamed across the courtyard through her veil of tears and snot. Although she was fast from years of runta, her journey toward the maiden's parked coach seemed as if she were running through a sucking bog.

"Dee! What's wrong!" Lauryl'la's eyes were huge with concern and her fine brows were paralyzed into a frown of vexation. It was almost as if Quen'die was the victim of some transformation which had rendered her into a hunchbacked freak.

Mustering her words out from under the sobs and sniffles was a violent chore. Quen'die's strong lungs were emitting choking whoops as she tried to gather air to combat the grief so that she could speak. She sounded much like an elfling with croup. "V-Venn'lith told her f-father!"

Lauryl'la knew exactly what she meant and it was as shocking as hearing that the Gonduanna Princes had all died in a freak limmer crash. Her frown was lifted to the top of her forehead in an arc of terror that very second. "Bunny! No!"

Quen'die could only nod with heated vigor as if doing so would expel the horrid feelings from her mind. This profound woe had become much too deep for her to speak again and her sobs intensified upon the useless release of letting someone else know that she was in trouble.

"Hey, get in the coach and you can come over." Lauryl'la tried to calm her down but her friend was pivoting in bewildered half-circles as she was tear-blind. "My folks are probably on patrol. Dee?"

Under normal circumstances, the maiden would have hated the attention her sobs were attracting, but the ring of elves forming around her and Lauryl'la was not at the top of her worries. All she wanted was to be away from the shadow of Seabreeze Grand and go to an inviting home. All in all, she knew that there would not be one waiting for her.

Before she could hop into the battered old model, the sound of her mother's call filled her with hope by reflex. This hope was torn away in an instant as the usually familiar voice of her mother was reduced to alien rage that may as well have come from out of Venn'lith's mouth. " _Quen'die Ferd'inna Reyliss_!"

Green nails dug into her skinny arm as her mother spun her around to attention. The scowl on her face matched her livid scream. Quen'die had never seen such anger in her eyes. Not so much that she had never misbehaved and evoked those feelings from her, but because her mother was typically able to cope with any of her slight transgressions. Since Glynna Reyliss was experiencing the beginning of the end, those coping strategies were pointless and it was all Quen'die's doing as far as she knew.

Today, Quen'die would ride home from school with Mother.
Blue Moonday

**N** ever before had Quen'die felt such a physical pain delivered by her mother. Those claws that dug into her arm would heal in a few days, but the scar would stay in her spirit for years as a dark memory. Such regret for the rash action burrowed in an instant in Mother's brain as she had always been an advocate for sparing the rod. Corporal punishment was never the answer in the Reyliss home to the point where Glynna had even donated to anti-child abuse organizations. Ferd'inn, of course, could never deign to raise a fist or a flat palm to his children, much less connect the hit. To employ this behavior was construed as "Grey-Trash" and déclassé as far as they were concerned. Yes, Venn'lith was correct - being poor would suck and this was her first taste of poverty, so it seemed.

"You have single-handedly destroyed my life!" Lady Reyliss screamed over to her daughter from behind the coach's crystal trackball. "How happy are you now?" Her mother never made anger so beautiful, as if she were good at it back in her younger years and was now the expert.

"How!" Quen'die yelped in defiance of the accusation. This was not just a knee-jerk reaction to her mother's suspicions, but the young maiden wanted to know _exactly_ what Venn'lith had said behind her back.

"You know and you know very well! You should learn how to hide your jealousies of an innocent maiden and focus more on yourself!" Glynna's searing rage was causing her to grit her teeth.

Venn'lith? Innocent? That witch did nothing but cause foul woe for friend and foe alike. Quen'die had never bothered to speak of her or her schoolyard antics at dinnertime just because she was _not_ jealous of the Xochian, despite Mother's claims. Until last week, Venn'lith Mitlan was simply the new maiden who walked the halls with a high head and thought she was entitled for worship just because of her beauty and riches. So what, Quen'die thought?

"I am not jealous of that freak, Mother! I did nothing to her and I haven't a clue as to what you are talking about!" It was a rarity that Quen'die had ever raised her voice to her mother in her entire life, and the last time she had tried was around ten years ago.

"You got your father fired, Quen'die! FIRED!" Glynna's regret for defusing an argument through physical force escaped her mind again as the emerald-tipped palm of her hand washed her daughter's face with a stinging swipe. For the second time that day, salty anguish slid out of the maiden's horrified eyes.

She was paralyzed. The pain from her mother's clutch earlier was an accident, and she knew it, but this was a deliberate strike to the body. Her face was locked with wide eyes and a jutting, lush lower lip. When all was said and done, Quen'die thought, Mother was nothing but an extension of Venn'lith's spite and she was stuck in her coach as a captive audience to her torture.

"You put back that lip, little maiden! All your secrets are out and I can't believe you did this all for some stupid _lad_!" Mother's rage was relayed through a deep growl. "I can't believe you have behaved this way under our noses! Acting like a little floozie while we were at work and while you were supposed to be watching Kaedish!"

A lad? What in the gods' names had Venn'lith told her father, she wondered? The lies were getting deeper and all the more humiliating. Quen'die was now obligated to refute the sex life that she never had.

"What are you talking about?" the elfmaid couldn't contain her frustration as she barked back at Mother. It wasn't directed at her, as she was now just a duped patsy for the sun elf's schemes, it was a menace aimed toward the Xochian herself.

"Does the name 'Hyrax Arcovis' mean anything to you? Your 'strapping captain' you always obsess over at dinner?" Lady Reyliss raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Let me just say that we better have you checked out at the heath wardens' because we certainly can't afford a new mouth at a time like this."

This was the worst charge Mother had ever put on her head. Quen'die had no clue that Venn'lith would dare to tell such a horrible lie to her parents, but this maiden was playing hardball, and her sick designs ran deeper than any deviation Quen'die could develop. The little beast was good at smear campaigns.

"But _Mama_! I'm a good maiden!" the rebuttal was weak, but reactive. She didn't know what else to say other than the truth. "I've never even been on a real date!" With that, even more tears drooled off her sharp chin in a saline curtain.

"Which makes this all the more disgusting! Do you think you can just have lads popping over without our knowledge so they can consume you like a slab of ribs?" Mother swerved the coach around a sharp bluff in anger. Traffic was becoming more perilous as a new wave of aimless evacuees was already clogging the roads in response to this new crisis. "Those males will take advantage of you any chance they can get and if you give them one inch, they'll..." her blind fury only allowed her to end her angry advice in another growl.

"I know this!" her daughter screamed back. "That's why I haven't ever done anything that Xochian freak accused me of!"

"Then why did you attack her at our _business_ dinner? In her own home?" Mother was having trouble managing the curving road as the coach skidded a bit on the rain-slicked asphalt. "That scar on your face wasn't from a palm leaf; it was poor Venn'lith defending herself from a catfight _you_ started over some cursed lad! She didn't tell us at the time because, unlike _you_ , she has some class! To add insult to injury, you publically humiliated her at that party on Saturnalia! What had she ever done to you?"

Plenty, Quen'die thought, and she still hadn't experienced the full effect of the sun elf's schemes. This was going to be the end of her in such a holistic manner that she guessed that she would have to have her name changed at the royal registry, since "Quen'die Ferd'inna Reyliss" was now a nonentity.

Mother righted herself in the coach's bucket seat. "It's that Lauryl'la Hay'cenn. She's encouraging all of this. I knew it. _I knew it!_ " She shook her head in shame over the maiden. "Grey-trash and nothing but. I'm deleting her number from your phone and tablet when I get home and _blocking_ it! Same goes for that Hyrax lad!"

Quen'die shot in fear. "No, _Mama_! Lauryl'la isn't like that! Just the other night she was giving me advice on..."

"More like _professional_ advice, apparently!" The temperature in the coach had dropped by twenty degrees with her mother's accusation as the vehicle skidded into their courtyard to a conking halt. Glynna Reyliss, her own mother of almost sixteen years, had just implied that she was a professional. Such a remark was never uttered between females unless the relationship was to be forever sealed over. Quen'die's paralysis was now closer to heart-rending death.

"Get out!" her mother hissed through more gnashing teeth. "I am too young to be called 'Nanna Glynna!'"

It was all so unexpected. Mother tore the coach out of their courtyard at a speed that was approaching a criminal meter. The usual steady _woob_ of the motor was a _ROWR_ and it all made Quen'die feel disgusting. Where was she going, she wondered? Back to the lab? Away from her at any account, and she felt like the last elf on Earth as the chilly late afternoon engulfed her. Ahead of her stood the uninviting double doors to her home. If it was her home anymore.

Her father was propped over the granite counter in the kitchen. The wine glass next to him was set on the edge of its surface and was in danger of falling off. Her mother's report was correct as before her was an exhibit of an elflord who had just lost about everything.

"Father?" Quen'die stumbled for proper words. She had no clue as to how he would react to her presence. He was always so logical and in control, despite his late problems with nerves. Ferd'inn Reyliss may have been skittish for the past couple of years, but he was still able to harvest reason out of most situations. His lean form jerked back in response.

"Hi, Quen'die," the defeated voice muttered in the blue shadows of the unlit kitchen. He was calm. So calm he seemed stupid. The maiden figured he had somehow taken himself to another reality as this one was all but rejecting him. It had already rejected her as well and, with this, she could find a common ground.

"Father..."

"Quen'die, we have to go to Nanna Orsi's house," his statement remained even and to the point. "This is all gone. I don't know what else to say...," he swirled his bony hand in the air as to direct her attention to all that they had earlier that morning and would never have again.

His daughter met the gesture with her reddened eyes. "But, _Papa_ , what is going on? How..."

"It's over now, my love," he mumbled their loss. "Mother is leaving us and she's taking Kaedish as well. She just sped off to pick him up from school."

The maiden couldn't tell if Father was angry at her or not. Probably just "disappointed," but it seemed like he was more so in between zones. Emotions were flipping through his mind and heart to the point that he couldn't focus on just one. One could lose something, but when it was everything in such a short amount of time, it was like the complete opposite of the joy one felt on Wintersfest morning. Instead of receiving a bargeload of presents, they are all taken away from under one's nose.

Her face melted with salty water from the deep seas of her evolutionary ancestors as she stood there like an ivory statue honoring the more recent ones. Father turned around with his mouth agape. He couldn't compose how he was feeling, and being a sentimental sort, that was his primary focus of communication.

"She just took everything and left," this was their dim epithet. It was the last declaration of their family before they wandered into the greatness of the fearful unknown. The media and the gossip scrolls of the day seemed to celebrate divorces and all the events that were triggered by them, but the elfmaid could not see how any glee could be a byproduct of those happenings. Shows such as _A Maiden on the Verge_ and _Die Lord, Die!_ were all funny comedies as seen from afar, but the living truth felt like an officer's scimitar had been chucked through the heart and down the gut. This whole incident made her not want to ever bother getting married if it could all be thrown away in the span of one afternoon.

Quen'die supposed that Kaedish was soon going to be dripping in tears too as Mother drove him to...wherever. Of course, she would blame the entire event on his own sister as per Venn'lith's claims. This all made her want to punch in their manascreen, which was most likely no longer their property.

Looking off to the side into the gloomy foyer, Quen'die saw that her bags were packed, but only hers. At that moment, nothing more needed to be said. Father would not be accompanying her in their exile.

"You're not coming with?" her uncontrollable plea pierced the high arch of their hall.

"No, Quen'die. I'm going to grab a hostel or a hotel room for a bit. I need to figure out what I'm going to do from here on, but I promise that I won't leave you. I'll make sure to check up on you and Nanna." He looked out into the grey of the approaching evening and wondered if the sun would ever shine again.

Nanna Orsi was lots of fun in her ninety years, and knowing that she would end this dreadful day in her tiny but inviting home was just a miniscule lift to the maiden's spirits . Quen'die had so many good times braiding and styling her golden hair which almost met the floor when she walked. She too had so many amazing stories to tell about her daring youth. It was a small wonder that her father became the biologist that he was as she herself once journeyed around the globe in search of ancient life and cultures. From far off cities like Shamba'la and Kalapa in Tel'lemuria, to the cold province of Ultimo, Thuless'in; Nanna Orsi had seen them all. Tonight, hearing another tale of her almost always romantic adventures would be just what the doctor ordered, even if it were nothing more than a tiny patch.

"Look," he began. "You know Mother has been acting kind of strange lately and none of this is your fault. It was all going to happen regardless. I could feel it in my bones and I think that had been adding to the nerves that I already have about losing you guys."

"But Mother said it was my total fault and that Venn'lith told her that I was a violent professional!" Quen'die felt a degree of relief now that the purple cat was out of the paper bag. "You can't possibly believe such lies, can you?"

"No, I..."

"I mean, sure, I have held feelings for Hyrax Arcovis, but I have never even seen him outside of school, except for that party on Saturnalia and at runta matches! And it was Venn'lith who beat me up! She said that if I told anyone that she would ruin our family, which she has." The elfmaid was feeling the justly-set anger rising out of her shell. She didn't have any sort of plan for this sensation, but she was going to let her feelings out some way or another and soon.

"Look, I really don't want to know about any of that. I trust you, actually," he bit his stiff lip and peered over at a bowl of oranges resting on the counter. Their simple forms calmed him but so did his state of shock. "Why this bothers your mother, I don't know. I think it's just incidental."

"What are we going to do?" Quen'die was thinking with her brain for the first time since Mother struck her, but her heart and emotions still ruled her thoughts, and she figured they would for the coming days. She thanked the gods that school was cancelled for the rest of the year. "Mother has left us!"

"Quen'die," he tried to muster the most sensible explanation he could figure, but he too was only led by wan suspicion regarding Mother's detachment until this foul afternoon. "It's just a separation. It isn't the 'D-word,' if that's what you are worried about. All of this is temporary." He wanted to finish with "I hope," but such uncertainty would only torture his daughter's spirit with wishful anguish. Ferd'inn supposed this half-truth was the best answer for now, because he didn't have a definite one either.

"Then are you leaving me too?" her eyes began to well-up again. "Please! I can't do all this alone!"

The answer to this question he was certain. "No. I told you, I promise I won't leave you. The only reason that I'm staying somewhere else right now is because Nanna's place is too small for the three of us and I just need the peace and quiet while I try to make sense of all this. Your mother and I may only be separated, but I did indeed get fired and it'll take some effort for me to get back on track."

Thoughts of that horrible slap and those morbid accusations about her behavior resurfaced and made the elfmaid ill. What was the worst was that Mother had sided with her archenemy, as if she would rather Venn'lith be her daughter. "Mother hit me! Why does she believe that little cockroach instead of me?"

"Frankly, I think she has her own agenda right now and Mitlan's daughter is part of that package." Ferd'inn couldn't view the tragic situation with true sight as he was down in it, but hearing this report from his daughter's perspective shed a bit of light as to what was going on with his wife. It was Centeo, he guessed. He never had the nerve to confront her about the topic as she would accuse him of being jealous, though that would have been nothing but her diversion against being caught with the bag in her hand.

Such a tactic wouldn't have been the first time he had encountered it. Back when he was in adept's school, he was enamored with On'dinna Ry'linn. They had been a romantic item for the majority of their study there, until she had begun to break dates with him with increasing frequency. Cor'gann Bry'klos was the runta captain of his class and she had been seen with him often and rumors had begun to fill the school's halls. When he had decided to confront On'dinna upfront about the reported affair, she had become defensive and angry at the young Reyliss and had accused him of being a corny and jealous throwback. His suspicions, however, had rung with complete truth from his innards as instinct ruled over intellect in this matter of the heart. As rumor had it, On'dinna and Cor'gann got married and moved away to some province in Xo'chi.

"What agenda?" Quen'die was not letting this topic go. She had her reputation as well as her family to fret over and she wanted some answers as to why they were all destroyed over the course of a single day.

"I'm going to tell you of a hunch that I have and I'm going to tell it to you straight," this was almost too much for him to collect, but his daughter deserved something for all of this needless pain. "It is my fear that your mother has, shall we say, affections for Lord Mitlan."

Quen'die gasped wide-eyed and those eyes felt like they had alum poured into them from all the shock and tears inflicted upon her in such a short time. "But..."

"I've been feeling funny about all of this for a while now, but after that dinner we had there, my mind and my heart have been nagging at me more than ever. It's relentless." He felt so odd confiding in his own daughter about this subject, but she needed some sort of answer.

"I knew it! I saw his face when he kissed Mother's hand, thinking he was all that! I just wanted to punch him in the nose right then and there!" Quen'die was gritting her teeth as hard as mother had been during their ride home. "I HATE them!"

"Quen'die!" Perhaps this was all a bad idea, thought the elflord, but he couldn't blame her reaction, after all. He only wished he could call up the actions required to set this horrible day straight but, in doing so, he figured they would land him in the municipal dungeons. "Look! We can make this right again, but we don't have anything to go on more than intuition. I told you so."

"Maybe so, but I certainly hate Venn'lith for all the things she did to me and her stupid, suave father simply for having made her!" her eyes were rehydrating with tears, but ones of anger this time. "Why are you such a wimp?"

"What do you want me to do, Dee? Grab my caster and assassinate him?" His sarcastic comeback actually seemed like a good idea, but he chided himself for the notion since he considered himself rational and nonviolent.

" _Yes_!" His daughter's face formed a rictus of insane rage that would have made even Venn'lith Mitlan about-face and run away. Father was frightened by his own fruit.

"I probably couldn't get past his security..."

Both were struck with the odd humor of his excuse and began to laugh like lunatics in the blue light of the dark kitchen. Father would make a terrible assassin as he would most likely ask his target if it was all right that he killed him first.

"We should go," he looked out the bay window once they calmed down. The evening was approaching and they were now working on a time limit due to the tense state of the nation. "I need to drop you off at Nanna's and I need to find a place for the night before I get arrested. With all of this, I completely forgot how drastic everything has become. I saw that original transmission. It was horrible. This may be the real deal. I seriously doubt it, but whatever is in those pyramids, I hope are the good guys."

Quen'die too forgot all about this new crisis the kingdom was suffering. She didn't have her father's perspective on the situation, and to her it was just another news report that would make Quay'liss Dalian all the more famous. Her own drama had superseded the morbid worldview of earlier that day. "Wow! What exactly happened up there?"

"Grab your things and I'll tell you when we get in the coach. We really need to get this show on the road."

***

It was approaching 8 p.m. by the time they reached the downtown area. The roads were once again a nightmare as their coach encountered gridlock after gridlock of frightened elves. Many of them were indeed fleeing this time to relocation centers or just out to awaiting loved ones. Unlike the Reyliss family, most of elfdom were banding together instead of splitting up. In the back of his mind, Ferd'inn worried that he would not be able to obtain a room anywhere and then he would be stuck eating gooey steamed rice in a refugee camp for the night with the ranks of the confused and wayward.

Armored municipals flanked the entrance to the heart of Corosa with a checkpoint. After an interminable wait, Ferd'inn at last sidled up to the makeshift gauntlet. The officer shot forth a bright light and surveyed the cab of their coach in such a frantic manner that it was more like a light show.

"Identification," he buzzed through his tall, conical helmet. "You carrying any weapons in there, Lord Reyliss?"

"Eh, no," her father answered in an assured and routine manner.

"Bull! I don't believe you! Get out of the coach!" the helmet's comm crackled with its signature static as he patted his handcaster with a loud thunk. Lord Reyliss' eyes all but popped out of their glasses until the officer slapped back his ivory visor. Ashen braids fell out of the sides of the gear and Quen'die burst into the happiest smile she could summon all that day long. It was Hal'rinn Hay'cenn.

"Ha, ha! I got you guys! How goes it, Ferd'inn?" he tapped the frame of the coach with a warm and hearty friendship. Quen'die's father let out a gust of relief from his innards. All his familial and professional worries were forgotten for a split second, and he was somewhat thankful for the fright Officer Hay'cenn provided.

"Heh, after I change my trousers, I think everything will be five-by-five, Boss," Ferd'inn joked back.

"Hey! That's what I'm here for. Where you guys headed, anyway?"

Lord Reyliss couldn't bother to recount the horrible day he had been having in any detail, probably the worst in his life, so he provided his friend with the abridged version. "I'm gonna be honest, Hal'rinn, my wife and I are having a bad time and I'm taking Dee here to her nanna's place until this all blows over."

"Oh, yeah," he looked down the line of honking coaches and made an absentminded halting gesture to them. "That's too bad, lad. I'll tell you what; give us a call and we can have you guys over for dinner later in the week. My wife and I actually have the day off on Feastday, so give a ring. Sounds like you need it."

"Hal'rinn, that's just what the doctor ordered," his face lit up at the notion of not being isolated anymore.

"Not a problem, not a problem. By the way, be sure to check your inbox for the royal decree regarding this martial law thing. From the throne of the High King himself. Well, actually, his mother probably wrote it, because he's only four years old, after all." With that, Lauryl'la's father let out a hearty laugh to celebrate the humor of his own joke. Quen'die couldn't help but join in. Now, if mother had left her father for Lord Hay'cenn, she might not mind that arrangement so much. Life would be quite interesting if Lauryl'la was her new sister instead of the embodiment of pure evil.

Nanna Orsi lived in an old apartment block that had been standing for almost fifteen hundred years. Back in its former glory, it had been some sort of mansion belonging to one of the city's forefathers, but as the size of Corosa grew, so did the population and as time drew on, the stately structure had been sold off and divided into apartments. Over the centuries, the neighborhood had turned quite rough, but it had also maintained a certain antique charm. As of late, many developers had been stalking the neighborhood for renovation schemes as the tastes of the upper classes were diverting to the area.

Quen'die ran up the flights of stairs until they reached the fourth level. She always loved visiting Nanna, but this time the sojourn would be extended with no definite limit. The elfmaid was eager to see her beautiful face. It was as if she had never seemed to age. Her features were still as sharp as an adult lady in her prime and her hair had, by a total mystery, retained its golden hue.

"Quen'die! Hold up for an old elf, will you?" Her father huffed his way after her. All those seasons of runta had made his daughter impervious to becoming winded. Lord Reyliss reminded himself that he needed to exercise more often and lay off the wines.

Before either of the pair could knock on the old cherrywood door, the tall and slim frame of Nanna Orsi filled the way with a beaming brightness. As always, she was dressed in old but extravagant robes which displayed strange sigils and design patterns running through the fabric.

"Quen'die! My little red bunny!"

Her voice was as musical as manaspeech and sometimes, Quen'die wondered if she wasn't some magical being set apart from the rest of elfdom. The cold hate of that day was eradicated by the amber promise of love that filled the tiny home beyond the door's threshold.
For Your Consideration (i)

### ROYAL DECREE

Addressed on this Moonday the 27th day of Fourthmoon in the Era of Mana, 2789.

His Majesty the High King Rigel'liss IV, overseer of the Kingdom of Atlantis who, in all the gods' wisdom, has issued a declaration of martial law for the entire Kingdom of Atlantis and all of her holdings as of 6 p.m. on the evening of this date.

Let it be known!

In a response to the attack on our kingdom's colony of Cydonia on the planet Mars, and in a suspected collusion with the presence of the alien pyramids, our nation is preparing for a possible assault upon and within her borders by forces as of yet unknown. The aggressors have attempted contact with the nations of this earth via unorthodox methods of which will remain disclosed until further notice for sake and sanity of our population. As such, the following parameters are to be met by any and all citizens of this grand nation:

-All citizens, unless authorized by official permission, are to remain in their homes between the hours of 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. The doors of private businesses are to be shut by 5 p.m. daily. Any citizen out of their homes between these times will be arrested by agents of either the Atlantis Defense Force or municipal Civil Wardens unless a waiver of release is presented.

-Utilities and communications have been assumed by government oversight through the duration of this period. Possible blackouts and loss of communications, but not limited to the manacloud, manascreens, personal phones, tablets, and public screens, can be expected. We implore your patience during this loss of media.

-All schools and universities are closed for the remainder of this school semester.

-Cordons around each of the pyramids have increased in force and radius. No private citizen is allowed within five miles of the central point of each of these structures. Any attempt to breach this cordon will result in immediate arrest. Relocation centers for citizens who live within the prohibited zones will be provided in your inbox attached to this message. If you require special needs or assistance for travel to one of these locations, please notify a Civil Warden for arrangements.

-Public and private travel to and from Atlantis and all of her holdings is prohibited by sea and air unless an official waiver is presented. Aqualanes will be closed once again to public traffic.

-Public underground shelters are to remain stocked and depopulated for any possible local evacuation. Attached to this decree in your inbox is the address to your local shelter. Any attempt to breach one of these shelters will result in immediate arrest. No trespassing is allowed whatsoever.

-Looters or vandals are ordered by official authorities to be shot on sight. Keep your hands to yourself!

-If you are an armed household, keep any legally-approved casters or red mana devices loaded with a refill at the ready. These measures are only to be used for home defense. Carrying any weaponry outside of the home is an offense and any citizen found with such items will be subject to arrest and confiscation of said devices.

-Do not molest the pyramids! Do not attempt to shoot or strike the pyramids if in the event you are within their striking range. Any such efforts will be met with deadly response by the Atlantis Defense Force.

Be Safe!

In the event of an attack, preparation is the key! Maintain a "care package" of goods and supplies in the event of an evacuation to a shelter. Attached to this decree is a list of supplies that you and your family should have prepared during this period. Keep this bundle at the ready by an exit to your home. Evacuation is a quick and ordered process; don't be caught unprepared!

Further, in the event the enemy employs chemical or biological methods of attack via gas or vapor, dampen a towel or cloth with water and line it with charcoal for a makeshift filter. Apply the device to your nose and your mouth. This will be effective in shielding you from any noxious fumes.

Be Alert!

Warning sirens will make you aware of any pending attack. In the event of a conventional assault by air or land, you will hear this klaxon:

<<***BANG! BANG! BANG!***/>>

In the event of a chemical or biological attack, listen for this warning:

<<***WEEP! - WEEP!***WEEP!***/>>

The "all-clear" for safety will sound like this in either event:

<<***WOWOWOWOW***/>>

You Can Help!

The Atlantean Home Guard is mobilizing! All able-bodied males and females between the ages of fourteen and eighty-four are encouraged to join this new brigade of daring elves to help defend the Kingdom from invasion. Adventurous jobs such as traffic detail, food distribution, air warning and spotlight technician are available to you today! Attached to this decree is the address of your local recruitment center which is operative between the hours of 7 a.m. and 5 p.m.

As always, the Atlantis Defense Forces need you! Join our standing army in the shadow of this momentous occasion and be the next hero of this wonderful Kingdom! ADF recruiters will be available at all Home Guard recruitment centers. Are you up for the challenge, soldier?

Centers for food distribution are always taking donations for food, goods, clothes, toys, and weapons. Take inventory of what you can spare to help our nation overcome this trying time. Attached to this decree is the address to your nearest food distribution center.

Attached to this decree is your calorie card, calculated for you and your family as per the latest census. Caloric consumption over this limit is stealing! Please keep your daily intake within the parameters set forth by your notification. This limit does not affect food purchased at restaurants, cafes, or other eateries. Food distribution and allowance will return to normal levels once this crisis abates.

Together we will overcome this trial to our nation. Your behavior and fortitude are the primary elements that will preserve this great kingdom so that she will never vanish from this earth.

### So Be It!

From the throne of his Majesty the High King Rigel'liss IV.

Fourthmoon 27, 2789 E.M.

### Gods Save the King!

Please remember to shop at **Manamart! ™ Supplying** all your family's needs for over fifteen hundred years!
Circle of the Snake

**C** enteo Mitlan studied his well-manicured nails in the dim light of the chamber for traces of blood and was disgusted to find large streaks of it on the back of his meaty hand. No matter how many times he had performed a sacrifice, he could never seem to make it a tidy operation, as blood was so unpredictable, one could never tell where it would jet. Upon reaction, he dropped the soiled dagger on the ground.

" _Vin Dai'e, Vin Dai'e Maniero Kiero Volen- Stolas! Stolas! Stolas!"_ he managed to finish the menacing chant. This song triggered the small pool sunken in the middle of the basement to burst with an immediate blue light which illuminated the warm darkness. Glynna Reyliss' jaw dropped in amazement. For years, she had studied summoning rituals of the Elder Ones from ancient tomes and scrolls, but, truth be told, she had never been present to any of the sometimes grisly rites described, such as the one before her.

Many senior members of the Circle of Finance were present to this ritual as the Elder Ones had been quite instrumental in their lifetime successes, or so they believed. These grand entities from beyond the stars were the alleged benefactors of wealth, love, power, and knowledge for the elves who were in the know. All the elves in that dark room indeed knew much more than the simpering denizens huddling in fear in the world outside.

Stolas preferred owls for some reason, and the little brown beast Lord Mitlan kept for these occasions began hooting like a steam whistle on its golden perch as the otherworldly image rose with a crawling speed from out of the crimson puddle. As was usual, most animals hated these entities, but each Elder One had a favorite type and that chosen beast seemed immune to such fear. No matter how many times these honeyed elves had attended a summoning, the arrival of an Elder One was so magnificent that the whole blanket of reality seemed to bend into something unlike the mundane existence that was their daily lives.

Close to nine feet of unearthly mass stood in transparent grandeur before the enrapt attendees. Stolas' face looked a bit bewildered as he was training his bearings on his new surroundings. Depending on how much preparation the summoner had made for the ritual, their extraterrestrial subject could sometimes be caught off guard. An Elder One was forced to respond to this call no matter what was going on at the time. To establish a point of reference, the goetic trained his view on the tiny owl and, after a few moments, figured out he was before his old "friend."

This Elder One was a master of astronomy and spacefaring. Many elves in his court debated that he was the being who made the invention of the godsrail possible and, hence, was more or less the one responsible for their knowledge of interstellar travel. Without this wise old one, Mars would have never happened, or so it was believed.

Lord Mitlan knew it was a bad time, more so than usual, to bother any of the entities, but Stolas was much more agreeable than say, Asmodai or Aim. For the bulk of a week since the pyramids' arrival, the financial elder had controlled his curiosity as to why these mystical ones were not yet emerging from the crafts. Considering the Martian situation, Centeo thought it was logical to contact an ambassador who was most apt and able to help in this time of crisis. If any of those strange beings had an answer for all of this, it was Stolas.

As the Xochian mogul remained kneeled, "Prince Stolas, I beseech you to..."

"What is it, Centeo?" the goetic huffed. "As you can probably guess, we are really busy right now. So please, make it quick. Remember to choose your words carefully, as I only answer once."

"Many apologies, Elder One," Mitlan daubed a bead of sweat from his dense brow. He figured he got off easy this time. Once, when he had summoned Asmodai for a vengeance rite against a competitor, the cantankerous goetic was flung into a rage and tried in desperation to break free from his containment pool and wring the Xochian's neck. Or worse. "We at the Circle of Finance are concerned about this situation regarding Mars. Our colony was attacked by some unknown forces that we believe to be orcs! I know that may sound incredibly outlandish, but the whole base was wiped out."

"We know this, Lord Mitlan," Stolas rolled his eyes with weary patience for the magnate. "That is why we are here in the first place. Lucifer foresaw that this was going to happen and here we are to your rescue."

"But I thought you were here to assist us in mass travel to Mars!" the Xochian was shocked by the confirmation. "Are you still not going to give us plans to build these arks of yours?"

"That won't be necessary, because all of elfdom will get a free ticket on one, including you and your family." The goetic was retaining his composure which calmed Mitlan's nerves a touch. "You are all going on a grand trip soon."

"How do you mean? A trip to where?" Mitlan's dark eyebrows were raised in shock as were all of those present to this ritual.

Stolas cracked his neck as the transference of summoning was quite a strain on his form. "Simply put, Earth is now a lost cause. Your expedition has awakened a terrible force on Mars and they are now mobilizing their forces against your planet. I am dreadfully sorry about this."

"But I don't understand!" Centeo raised his arms in utter confusion. "We have been exploring it for four years and the only life we have found were small animals, some sea life and bugs! How could an entire sentient spacefaring force have gone undetected in that time?"

"Centeo, Mars is a big place and you failed to explore _under_ its surface," the prince gave the financial elder a slow, condescending look. "These forces are indeed orcs and Mars is their homeworld. Our reports claim that they have built a well-developed civilization under the planet's surface as they are averse to the tough humidity in the equatorial daytime. Your fears are confirmed. They possess the ability for mass space travel, but not like the vibrational attenuation process of your godswheel. It is a linear method of flight, and a rather crude and primitive one; much like your old space limmers. They have just devised the technology two years ago. It was all in response to your people meddling on their world. Regardless, they are currently on their way to Earth."

Centeo was caught in a scared stammer, "B-But how? When will they reach us?"

Stolas grunted to prepare his quivering audience for the bad news. "In a year's time, your people will experience the first wave of the armada of orcine forces as they are currently activating a total war doctrine against you. Your people only possess a handful of godswheels, while the orcs have mass-produced their crafts from literally under your noses."

"Then we stand and fight the invasion!" Mitlan raised his beefy fist in powerful defiance. "I can even profit from our mobilization! We can mass-produce our godswheels and use your arks and..."

"Impossible," Stolas quashed Mitlan's wishful thinking. "You have heard your comm officer's report. Your red mana is useless against their alien hides. These are not the same orcs your race fought thousands of years ago. These beings are their original articles. They are their forefathers. You wouldn't have the time to build enough vehicles to match them anyway."

Centeo was enraged at the goetic's report. He felt duped for the entire time of his interstellar relationship with these beings. "But why did you not tell us this in the first place! We would have never gone!"

The goetic furrowed his bushy brow in powerful annoyance. "You know how this works, Centeo. We only answer what we are asked. You never considered that your expedition would arouse self-aware beings. They would have never bothered to come to Earth, or even build space-faring technology had you not greedily disturbed them. Their scouts have been watching you from any number of the sinkholes dotting the planet's surface for the length of your entire expedition. What is it your people say when they regret something? Ah yes, 'Would have, could have, should have.'"

That phrase was indeed running through the minds of all the elves in the shadowy sanctum at that moment. Inside information was always appreciated from the Elder Ones, but knowing that they were going to have to relocate the entire planet's population was not what they were expecting from this summoning.

"What are we going to do? What has Lucifer said about this? I need to speak with him!" So many questions ran through the elder Xochian's mind, but he could tell Stolas' patience was becoming shorter. As he had said, he only answered what he was asked, and only once. Such tight stipulations were putting Mitlan's nerves into frenzy.

The goetic snickered. "Ah, yes, well, the boss is busy at the moment. He is currently punishing one of our legionnaires for appropriating the mind of one of his earthly subjects without his permission. This young elfmaid's mouth even uttered his name before one of your doctors just this morning. If it weren't for your crisis at hand, the name 'Lucifer' would be all over your newsscrolls today. Sometimes those legionnaires can be quite willful."

Stolas looked around the inner sanctum of Mitlan's hexagonal basement. The design was remarkable and he appreciated the owl, in all honesty. More than that, the bloodless, dead body of the young maiden before him would prove to make an excellent treat.

"As to what you will do," the Elder One began. "You will announce to your people that we have arrived to evacuate the planet in the face of this crisis. We will assist you with culling them into the arks, but once you enter, there is no turning back. You must be quick as timing is of an essence, but you also must be orderly as there are well over a billion elves and that could create a logistical mess."

"When do I deliver this message to the world?" Mitlan inquired as Stolas could hear the tremble in his voice.

"Not yet! We will open our arks first and appear before the world. High President Glasya is overseeing this operation and we will have you in direct contact with her soon." It was noticeable to the small crowd of elves present that Stolas was returning to an agitated state as his blue image began to flicker.

"So, if I may be so bold," Mitlan challenged. "What is the holdup? Why have you not revealed yourselves yet?"

"Ah, a bit of technical difficulty, Lord Mitlan. But do not worry, the arks are perfectly sound and your trip will be safe," Stolas assured him.

Jay'cenn Ma'lott, Mitlan's chubby advisor had cut into their conversation. He didn't want any stone unturned during this momentous conversation. "Prince Stolas, where exactly are we going? As far as we know, Mars is now off limits, Earth is in danger, and the moon is totally worthless. Where else in our system is there that could possibly sustain us?"

"You are correct in asking such an excellent question, Lord Ma'lott. To answer that question, we are taking you entirely out of your system. The best new home for you lies within the Taurus system," Stolas paused a bit to soak in the elves' shocked reactions with a slight smile. "The planet will be named whatever you wish to call it. Heh," Stolas smirked. "You can even call it 'Mitlan' if you so desire. After this exodus, you all will be something of heroes to your people. Rejoice! For this current hardship will bring you great fortune in the future."

"Eh, yes," Jay'cenn continued as he wiggled a porky finger into his itching ear. "Speaking of fortune, will this new planet have mana? We really need that stuff to keep everything going."

"Yes, I understand, Jay'cenn." Stolas enjoyed this plump elf's company for the most part. Lord Mitlan could be whiny, almost begging at times, but Lord Ma'lott was always straight and to the point. "This new world of yours is rich with mana. Your circle will be able to continue to speculate the power source to your people just as you always do."

"Thank you, Prince Stolas," Ma'lott gave a sharp and efficient bow to his query's answer. He felt much comfort in knowing that he would still be neck-deep in brens even in this new pioneer territory. The lean times before him made him wonder what he could take with him and what he would need to leave behind. Over the years, Ma'lott had acquired much in the finance industry and he didn't fancy having to part with any of it. Such matters would have to be addressed at a later date, he figured.

Upon hearing that parcel of information, a relieved huff escaped many of those in attendance that night. Power had to be retained and every one of the minds in that room was calculating how to preserve their status and influence in their new home with lightning speed. Events such as these, much like a war, could cause a power vacuum and many fortunes were lost in the face of them. Many fortunes were built as well. Half of those at that ritual were weighing the option of assassinating the other half at the very same moment. Such minds thought alike and they all knew it. Lucifer was correct in that these elves were an adaptable race. Until things settled down, this foolish entourage would keep their guards up and their enemies close.

"Let me ask you, Prince Stolas," Mitlan regained control of the Elder One's attention with a clearing throat. "Is this Taurian planet your homeworld?"

"That it is not, Centeo," he had closed his eyes for a moment to fend off the guilt of the half-lie and yet, savor its raw enjoyment. "Your people would find the homeworld of the Elder Ones rather disagreeable."

"Is there anything else we should know, my Prince?" Mitlan bowed with reverence to the blue form before him. He wanted to disengage the contact as soon as possible to get things in order, but there were still so many more questions now that the situation had all but reversed itself. Tonight would be sleepless, not only because his concubine of the last two months now cohabitated with him, but because preparations needed to be made as all of the other louts in that room would be decidedly making theirs. He couldn't wait to kick all of their sycophantic posteriors out of his noble home.

"There is one issue I must discuss with you. It involves your lovely daughter, Venn'lith," the goetic astronomer studied the look of shock on his subject's face. These fishies were quite protective of their own and only their own. Many of Mitlan's ilk on this planet held the saying: "To feather the nest and to hells with the rest." His little slip of a maiden could be used as excellent leverage once the spiritual debt of these foul grovelers was to be collected.

"B-But," Centeo stammered just as Stolas had predicted. "How could she factor in to any of this? She is only sixteen years old."

"Never to worry, dearest Mitlan!" Stolas beamed down at the burly financier. "What I offer to your daughter is knowledge and grooming! This is not a threat but a wonderful gift to you from my people."

"What exactly do you have in mind?" the Xochian was still not assuaged from his fears as Stolas could see by his wary eyes.

"Not what, but who," the Elder One began. "Once the arks open, you will be visited by one of my closest personal agents. A young elder by the name of Cadreth. He will train and supervise your daughter for rule on this new world of yours. Lucifer himself has chosen her personally for the future of this Taurian planet, and I have chosen this one to be her tutor. Can you not agree?"

Lord Mitlan knew his golden ace was now in the hole. Not one of the envious scum in that room would be able to usurp the Mitlan Family on this new planet as per order of the highest power. It would be certain that any assassination attempt upon him or his daughter would be punished with severity by the big boss himself. The Elder Ones knew all and saw all, and if any insubordination from his stupid entourage were to be committed, they would be rooted out in an instant. A wave of soothing security for the first time in years washed over his large frame.

Centeo was beaming with pride. It was only logical, in his opinion, that his lovely daughter carried the torch of their power. He always knew that she could rule in some manner. Not only was she beautiful and strong in body, but powerful in deviousness and talent. Often, he figured she had coveted his attentions more than he had the time to give, but he still observed her and her behaviors during his busy schedules. She was not one to be crossed, and that was a definite. Her maidenfriends glommed on to her like a real princess, and the slobbering males had to be held at bay. As for those males, Centeo knew he needed not to assist in his daughter's repulsion of their advances, as she could thwart them with humiliating ease if she so wanted. From the crib, she had held herself with poise like a true lady and these Elder Ones could see that. It was in the blood. _Queen Venn'lith_ did not only carry a nice ring, but a natural one.

"But of course, my lord!" Mitlan answered with a hearty boom. "I will be waiting anxiously for Cadreth's visit!"

"I'm sure you will," Stolas confirmed. "There is still much for us to do. I implore you a farewell, Mitlan. As I have said, High President Glasya will be contacting you once our doors open and the message is out to the people of the earth. In the meantime, maintain your patience. We will reveal ourselves to the public shortly. Make your preparations and make them well. I have spoken."

The goetic prince peered under his feet to find the murdered offering lying supine with a look of horror frozen on her face. "Is this morsel for me?"

"Of course, Prince Stolas," Mitlan gestured to the death buffet before him. "We would not summon without forgetting such a vital offering."

"Very well, but do not abuse this practice. The more your cabal creates missing bodies, the higher the alert of the Civil Wardens. My forces can protect you from the long arm of the law, but only so far. This is what? The eightieth sacrifice you've made to us in your life, Mitlan?"

"Eh, well... I suppose," he guessed with a sheepish wince. "But you and I know this is all for the greater good! I mean, really, she was just a street urchin at best, and I highly doubt she would be missed in the light of this crisis."

"Or missed even more, Centeo," Stolas admonished. "Your kind huddles together in the face of adversity, especially when the perceived adversity is of an unknown nature. Many agents from other cabals around the globe have informed me of citizen's watches and even a home brigade being established in their lands as we speak by their rulers. Not only that, but your own enforcement agencies have been ramped-up with a curfew." It was easy to see that the goetic was becoming more aggravated. "You are pushing your luck. We cannot have these losses connected to us and we can only protect you from your authorities at such a length. Thank you much for your offering, but from this point forward, you will wait for us to contact you and for our arks to open. This is not a threat, but a fact. Do not get caught."

Mitlan was sweating from the rebuke of the alien presence. He knew that testing the patience of any of them could result in consequences of varying profundity, but he also knew that Stolas was a more forgiving personality. Regardless, he promised himself he would not breach such waters at a time like this, but now that his daughter was to be queen, he knew for certain he had to maintain restraint.

Glynna too was disturbed by this announcement. She had abducted the young maiden earlier that night with her own hands while the child was walking home from a salon in the docks district. Never before had she committed such an act against another elf, but Centeo assured her that it was what was needed to be done. This elfmaid was so trusting of her and her late-model coach. So clean and expensive. Glynna had even exploited her stately, intellectual looks so that the young one would be less reluctant to hop in. She was surprised how easy it had all went, and she had almost felt the same thrill as she did when she had first snuck out late at night as a teen. Nevertheless, it made her sick as she still viewed the action as criminal, despite Mitlan's insistence of its necessity and how there would be no way of getting caught. Not with his clout. Here was this maiden who needed a quick ride home before curfew and this kind heart was so charitable as to help her with that.

Help her Glynna did, until she smothered the maiden's beautiful face with a rag soaked in Manalite. She couldn't have been much older than her own Quen'die. Stolas' chiding triggered tears of guilt from her eyes as she convinced herself in her mind that she wasn't a real murderer. After all, Mitlan did the wetwork, while she just made the delivery. For the greater good, of course.

Her lifeless body was hoisted by two fellow cabalists into the tall apparition's blue arms. "I still thank you for this gift, Lord Mitlan."

Hidden from the summoning circle's eyes, Stolas flashed a rude gesture at Farriel, an angelic who was charged with escorting the unfortunate elfmaid's spirit to Paradise. This deva-class, who was invisible to all the ignorant mortals present at the unholy moot, thrust out a defiant tongue back at the goetic before the two attenuated to the heavens. He was of another dimension of reality as was now the slain maiden. The fiend may have her shell of a body, but not her soul.

"Of course, my lord," the Xochian again bowed in deep relief to being let off the hook at last. He hated that his entourage saw him taking the lower hand. Perhaps he should not have invited them and made this summoning a more private matter, but it was too late for such regret. He could read all of their snickering minds from behind his back as the Elder One discorporated with his new dead treasure in hands.

As the blue light left the room along with the entity, the cabal was once again standing in a soft, dusky glow. "Eh, Lord Mitlan, I have an idea, considering the circumstances," Hor'stigg God'runn, the president of God'runn Industries announced.

"Eh, yes, Hor'stigg, what is it?" the Xochian said without paying much attention. His thoughts were processing the grand news just as much as were the others in his company.

"As this is an entirely new environment, perhaps we can now not only speculate on mana, but oxygen as well." The Thuless'in mogul adjusted his spectacles, which were fashioned in perfect circles. "We could relay to the people that oxygen is slighter on this world and it would have to be conserved. We could then make the citizenry pay a monthly bill just to breathe the air and..."

"Eh, sure, Hor'stigg; sounds great," Mitlan waved his hand back at him without looking as if he were but a meddlesome gnat at a Summersfest picnic. He turned his head up to the high-vaulted ceiling of his basement's personal sanctum. Above the exact point where he stood, his lovely daughter slept in her happy dreams as school was cancelled for the rest of the season. She would now be trained for a line of work that no one could ever be merely taught, for his offspring would rule the Taurian exodus. He smiled until his face hurt and his eyes all but rolled back into his brainpan.

"What was her name?" Glynna assaulted the financial elder's trance. "Centeo? The maiden we just killed. What was her name?"

"Eh?" she had broken his fugue. He gave her a plaintive look in response to her choice of words just then. He didn't relish construing that what they had done as a "killing." "Yes, Glynna, I'll check her phone."

Were it to remain up to him, he didn't want to know anything about his sacrifices, as they were nothing but a meaty offering that his masters required. Glynna was new to this necessary process and, in time, he figured she too would become accustomed to these grisly undertakings. Perhaps one day, she would wield the dagger.

"It says her name is Ay'linn Dell'vannio," he announced by the light of her pink pearl phone.

"It _was_. And her age?" Lady Reyliss demanded.

This was a bit difficult for him, as he saw that the maiden was the same age as his own daughter's. More likely than not, Venn'lith knew her, but he doubted that they were mates as she had never brought her up in conversation. "Sixteen, Glynna. She was sixteen."

"May the gods bring her rest," Glynna mumbled as real tears dripped from her eyes. It could have been her Quen'die, and she knew it was that simple.

"Yes, of course," Mitlan agreed. There was something about this crimson-haired lady that made him chew the regret of his actions, in all honesty. Such an emotion made him feel warm and nervous at the same time and he didn't like it.

"Lord Mitlan," Jay'cenn Ma'lott interrupted once again as he adjusted the red and black ceremonial cape which was covering his doughy nakedness. "It's getting rather cold in here. Now that the summoning is over, do you think we could put our clothes back on?"
Empty as Halos

" **W** ant a leg or a thigh?" Vandella asked Polunica as she sharpened the wicked barbed blade. "Heh, maybe a wing?"

"Ha! Fishies don't fly, you twit!" the succubus' petite partner jabbed as she picked between her teeth with her own blade.

"Sister, you call me a twit one more time, I'll be eating _you_!" Vandella ground her teeth as she jutted her lush bottom lip. "Here I am trying to be nice to you for once, and you gotta be like that!" Her pale sister was always bickering with her, but as they were cooped like chickens in the tight confines of Stolas' pyramid, their banter was becoming all the more murderous. "Matter-of-fact, back to Paradise with you! I'm going to shank your scrawny little tail, anyway!"

Polunica readied her blade for a parry in the event that her obsidian-skinned contemporary made good on her dire threat. Feasting on the elfmaid's body was now forgotten as she needed to be concerned for her own survival. The last thing she wanted was to be discorporated back to the Nine when it was nearing the time to commence the next phase of their lofty operation. And for what? A friendly insult? Vandella was always bullying her, but she could never take even the smallest of comebacks as she was all but devoid of a sense of humor.

"All right, calm down, Della. Put that blade away. You're giving me a case of the holies with that thing." Polunica was shaking as she attempted to defuse her senior partner and steel herself at the same time. This battle was already in the bag and Vandella was sure to be the victor. Under her breath, she prayed for Stolas to come over and intervene, as he was always the logical one. Already he had broken three of their petty ruffles ever since they had attenuated to Earth. Every one of those altercations was over the attentions of Cadreth.

"Oh, don't you worry. I'll poke you full of holes, for sure, you little twerp!" Vandella lunged back to prepare for a power strike as well as to display her ripped and wiry force against her smaller rival. "Time for Mama's medicine!"

"Whatever! I'm not scared!" Polunica dredged the nerve to shoot back some lip. She knew that the dark succubus would sooner or later defeat her as she was losing the hope that their pyramids would ever open. Perhaps it was best to let the inevitable happen and save some face in the process, she figured. "You're just sore because Cadreth likes me more and because I'm prettier than you!" With that, she swung back a torrent of her shining black hair as if to prove the theory of her superior beauty.

That was the last straw. There was no way that Vandella could allow the unranked insubordination of those less powerful. Although the two may have held the same infernal office, Polunica was not as much of an opportunist as her dark partner. Vandella's diminutive cohort just never took the initiative when it came to infiltrating the dreams and desires of Earth's males when those situations arose. As for the few cabalists who actually knew how to summon them by name, it was she they would request with more frequency, as they found Polunica not quite as adventurous in satisfying their selfish, carnal demands. It mattered not to Vandella that Cadreth was sweeter on Polunica because she was secure in the fact that she was better at her job.

Gold light reflected from the blade illuminated the central chamber's walls as Vandella poised to strike the first, and most likely, killing blow to the tiny lust demon. Polunica let out a bantam's squeak of fear, as if she had already been defeated. "Oh, you're the one who's gonna be sore! Time to go where it's hot, Little Snowball!"

Stolas' clawed grip almost broke the tougher demon's wrist as he arrested the angry thrust. The deadly point of the dagger was closer than an inch away from tearing the ivory flesh of Vandella's unwilling opponent.

"By the Nine! Why can't you two just get along!" he admonished the both of them. It was true that he had heard Polunica's summons for help, but the old astronomer knew that she was at least a fraction culpable for the meddlesome incident. "I am much too busy to referee the catfights between you two fiends!"

"But, Master Stolas!" Polunica broke in to plead her case. "Vandella just went psychotic and tried to..."

A steely clutch stifled her frantic petition as Stolas had locked onto her svelte neck with his free hand. "You are trying my patience, little one. I know very well that you obviously provoked your sister into this rage. You know her demeanor is not to be tested, but yet, you keep jabbing and jabbing at her!"

The ghostly pale succubus was attempting to muffle her defense, but could not muster the words as her windpipe was secured by Stolas' unearthly strength. As she imagined what her punishment would be, she abandoned her vain effort and ceased her straining.

"Now it is time for you to go to bed without supper... _Twit_ ," he hissed as he was but a hair's length from her soft face.

The goetic prince knew of all the goings-on under his command and the trifling antics of a lowly succubus had not been difficult to conceal. Why Lucifer had assigned two of these insubordinate beasts to his ward was the only thing boggling his mind, but it was all for the worse since he was also in charge of Cadreth. Those two would not cease their bickering over his affections. It was the perfect recipe for disaster in the relatively close confines of the Thelemic Ark and he made a mental note to file a complaint to the boss when all of this was over.

"Regulex!" Stolas barked to the towering legionnaire who accompanied him. "Take this one to her holding cell until I say it is time for her release." Tears of shame dribbled out of Polunica's doe eyes and fell over the back of the goetic's hand sparking even more cruel delight in his mind. "Until then, this one is under your imaginative supervision."

"As you command, Lord Stolas!" Regulex boomed with glee as he traded his master for the nape of Polunica's neck. With the unshackling of her voice, the succubus emitted loud sobs in hopes of dredging some mercy out of her stern captor. With the likes of Regulex, none would be shown.

"Now that everyone is serene again, shall we attend to this most remarkable feast donated to us by one gracious Centeo Mitlan?" the goetic huffed as he found peace once again in the lavish chamber.

Violence was always an effective solution to any situation, but Stolas had never preferred it. So many of his diabolic brotherhood were prone to such behaviors and he grew weary of it as he considered himself much more rational and devious in his problem-solving style. Brutality was better suited to the other demons and devils of his rank. Asmodai was never one to spare a rod, or any other weapon at hand for that matter, and Stolas figured that his ark was probably a deserted bloodbath by now. It was true that there were few amongst his ilk that he liked in all honesty, but that one was a nothing more than a deranged psychopath and he considered himself wise enough to limit his dealings with him.

"Ha!" bellowed Plagueon from across the drained body of the elfmaid. "Mitlan is an idiot! They're _all_ idiots!" The infernal cherub was another brutal henchman assigned to Stolas, but one that better knew his place. Greedy and a bit slow, the pudgy demon was not much intellectual company for the ancient astronomer, but he was always loyal and welcomed muscle when the need presented itself.

"Ah, yes, Plagueon. That he is." Lord Mitlan had a predilection to summon Stolas, especially now that he was involved with the extraterrestrial matters of a Martian expedition. Lord Mammon, the devil of avarice was, under usual circumstances, the subject of his summons. It was only natural since the Xochian had proven to be one of the greediest earthlings the entirety of the infernals had dealt with in some time. "But he is a useful idiot."

"Why the gift, Lord Stolas," Vandella had questioned now that her boss seemed to regain his composure. "What does he want now from us?"

"Oh, the usual. Assistance. Aid." He tugged at his sharp chin in reflection. "The financier was concerned about the change of plans we had devised from under his nose. It appears Sammian's orders had spurned quite the drama out there on Earth and he needed advice on how he should cope with this problem."

"The elf has no brains of his own," reminded Plagueon. "Everything he has and everything he has done is nothing more than the result of our tutelage."

"That's how it is with all those cabalists, my dearest Plagueon," the goetic lectured. "It is true that these few have the foresight and arcane knowledge to find us in the first place, and for that I can genuinely applaud them, but not one of them can seem to make a proper move without our guidance." Stolas soaked in the glowing visual of the earth spinning in three dimensions before him from out of the central chamber's scrying pool. "Just look at that beautiful world before us! It has everything they need, yet the few who really want to harness it have the audacity to find it, take it, and ultimately, hold it."

The wise old demon was about to hold an impromptu court, and every one of the hungry demons present for the foul feast sat on the plush cushions and sofas lining the chamber to soak in his untimely knowledge. Some fidgeted, but most were held in rapt interest.

"Most everything that these elves have is a direct result of our association," the prince began. "Take money, for instance. Each and every one of those fishies out there could merely pluck whatever it is they want from that bountiful mudball at their whim, but Lord Mammon had presented the greedier ones with such a concept ages ago and now, whole wars are fought over the abstract illusion of gold's value. After all, gold is nothing more than a trace element found within our kind's blood, but to them it is worth murderous behavior. It drives them insane with rage whenever so much as a unit of it is lost without return."

"True, Lord Stolas," remarked Vandella. Perhaps playing to his intellectual ego would return her to his graces after her violent infraction. Seeing Polunica's assured-to-be grim fate made her consider the luck she had been pushing with her master and how short it was becoming.

The goetic acknowledged his assigned lust demon with a quick nod. "And as for love, my dearest Vandella, you know well that they too must invoke us because few of them have the confidence to just ask for their desired partner's hand. Certainly they don't share the physical beauty that we enjoy, but still, their attractions are relative to each other. Yet still, they cannot see beyond their own shortcomings and this is where we fill that gap. What fools."

"Another subject they plead for is mana," he continued after a dramatic pause. "Although it is one of the earth's primary elements, they had to come to us to actually find it and grasp it. They don't really need to use it, but they are such impatient little beings that they rely on its assistance to get them from point A to point B faster than the next one over from them. The Adversary gave them perfectly fine beasts to carry their burdens, but that just wasn't enough for them, so yet again, we are disturbed."

"Most recently," the prince huffed. "The fishies are simply not satisfied with the enormity of Earth, so they needed another planet to exploit. First their moon, and now, Mars. A rational demon would think that they would have the cognitive ability to figure out how to get there without our aid, yet our aid they entreat."

With a furrowed and shaggy brow, the elder demon spat. "As a former angelic, it pains me to see how impatient and unappreciative they are of the Adversary's gifts. I suppose none of us were enthralled by His demands of us, but unlike us, these elves have free will, yet they bother us so that we can take it away. And all for what? A few tiny years of convenience? A lover who will be soon forgotten as they grow old and wrinkled? A barren planet that is actually wobbling on its last legs? They never know what really to ask for and how to ask for it. All the answers to those questions are right in front of their eyes, yet they fail to look hard enough for them. In all actuality, I feel no sympathy for their kind and for what we are about to do. They have piled on the debt incessantly by bothering us with their ridiculous pleas and now, it is our time to recoup our losses."

"Maybe elves are really stupid?" Plagueon suggested with a shrug of his burly shoulders.

"It would seem so, yes, but they are not to be underestimated," Stolas regarded the cherub. "The only problem they possess is actually their blessing. They are always devising ways to enlarge the box they have designed for themselves, but they are impatient for more. I suppose we can't blame them for that, but they unwisely come to us to expedite that process. For any of you who have been summoned, you will understand how painful and annoying that is for us."

"Well, I don't mind a good summoning," interjected the seduction demon as she played with her red afro which was fashioned into a perfect orb.

"I'm sure you don't," Stolas chuckled at her innuendo. "However, the majority of us are frequently disturbed and the return of a soulless shell or a lump of gold is really not much of a payment. Do you realize how often our dearest Asmodai is called forth to arrange a revenge? Many times a month, and that takes a lot out of him." The goetic elder paused his monolog for a moment to collect his thoughts. "No, Plagueon. The elves aren't stupid nor are we really any more special than any of them. We just have a different perspective of their world. We can see it in its entirety from afar while they are down in it. They get to enjoy its fruit while we are treated to see what they miss. That really is our only power over them."

"Yeah, but we can fly!" Plagueon pointed with pride to his four stubby wings.

"So can they," the old lord reminded his subordinate. "Well, with assistance, but yes, we will not be immune to their backlash from the skies. Ironically, we taught them how to do that as well. What I am trying to impart on you is to always be on your guard. Use your deception, foresight and knowledge against them after these arks open. Because once they find our mortal weakness, you can be certain that this operation will be an instant failure."

"But they aren't going to find that weakness out," Cadreth sauntered into the chamber and lounged against the ornate frame of the doorway with a cocky confidence. "Right, Master?"

"Ah, our incubus of the hour has finally graced us with his presence!" Stolas intoned with sarcasm while Vandella flashed him a dour look. She was still hot with resentment toward him for his attentions with Polunica. Such resentment had been brewing toward Polunica as well and Vandella was quite proud of her envy. Jealousy was an ugly trait, but amongst seduction demons, it was nurtured like a fine work of art.

"Apologies for my tardiness, Master, but I am a bit distressed to see the lovely Polunica being led into the cells. Whatever could such a sweet little one do to warrant such arrest?" Cadreth knew the answer to this very well, but he wanted to get an idle rise out of Vandella. Such taunting only seemed to make the dark sister pine for him all the more.

"I'll tell you what she did, son!" the succubus' onyx eyes enlarged with surly anger. "We were about to carve into this fishie meat here and then she went and got all lippy with me, like always. She brought it all upon herself, so she forced me to open up a can of..."

"Spare me the details, Vandella," Cadreth enjoyed the childish drama over him, but sometimes Vandella could take it too far. Back home in the Inferno, he could at least find choice hiding spots from them when things got hotter than was usual. The Wood of Suicides was his personal favorite, but in the tiny confines of this ark, there was nowhere to run from their constant theatrics. It was the same thing every time with those two. Polunica would cry and snitch while Vandella preferred to use her fists. Or claws, or swords, or warhammers; it didn't matter. Cadreth figured the ebon demon would have been better suited to the sphere of rage instead of seduction.

"Right, Cadreth," Stolas was becoming more impatient with the recurrent banter from the lot of them. "Let's spare the details and begin this feast before us, courtesy of our bleating finance fishie"

On the golden altar before the unholy entourage lay Ay'linn Dell'vannio's limp body. The maws of the demons were watering for the first bite. It was the first sacrifice the inhabitants of Thelemic Ark Sweetlight were treated to since arrival and all present were anxious to begin devouring her. As Cadreth was a favorite officer of Stolas', he was subject to entitlements and special treatments that most of the demonic cohort resented, but with the rich banquet before them, all their jealousies were forgotten.

Before the first grisly incision could be cut, the scrying pool before them morphed from a view of the earth and flickered into a three-dimensional visage of High President Glasya. Stolas rolled his eyes as his evil fiesta was once again interrupted. He rebuked himself in silence for delivering such a lengthy speech to his company, but he was well acquainted with his own style of oration. It garnered respect from the lesser demons and he could tell they appreciated his abundant wisdom.

"Prince Stolas, your audience is needed," Glasya announced with haughty authority. Her presence was commanding and, as Lucifer's favorite sister, she was as equal to the big boss in power as far as many of the other demons were concerned. All of them knew well that any infraction or transgression would be punished with severity by their highest order. Without any pause, the devilish company dropped their utensils and gave their superior their undivided attention.

"High President Glasya," Stolas bowed as did his wards. "To what do I owe this visitation?"

"A million apologies for my interruption of this banquet before you, but I have a very important message to impart to you and yours." Her shining blue image was peering down at the earthly sacrifice with a bit of envy and hunger. She wished that one of the elven cabals would have entreated her attentions, as she too, would have a feast of her own.

"Eh, yes, Glasya," Stolas stuttered. He could sense the avarice of his superior and covered Ay'linn's form with haste and a silk blanket. "We were recently blessed with a fine gift from our contact, Centeo Mitlan. So sorry to rudely display this spread, my lady."

"Your apologies are not necessary, although I am a bit confused as to why you were contacted by a coven and not me," she batted her large eyes with mock sheepishness.

"Well, Madame President, I suppose it is because I had been assisting the elves with the Martian expedition for the past decade and Lord Mitlan assumed that I had some answers as to what was happening on Mars." The goetic prince figured that such an excuse would be enough to stifle any professional heatedness from his boss.

"Very well, Prince," she had straightened herself for her delivery. "The time is at hand, Stolas. I am delivering this announcement to all the Thelemic Arks worldwide. This operation is to commence in a few short hours! Rejoice, my cohorts, as we will no longer need to be sequestered in these vehicles. Do not take this lightly, however, as we have much work to do. I trust that you all have your orders and know precisely how to execute your assignments, yes?"

"Yes, Madame, I have instructed my team to their duties and we have discussed the operation in full many times over." Stolas was thrilled to know that he would at last experience the balmy and mild atmosphere of planet Earth. It had seemed like they had been sequestered in such small quarters for an eternity. As for the Inferno, it ranged anywhere from blazing hot, freezing cold or scorching with acid and trash. Even the extreme year-round winter of the Vrillian glaciers was preferable to the frigidity of their hell-kingdom of Cania.

"Stolas, about your 'wonderful' idea with the Xochian's daughter. Have you informed our Cadreth?" Lucifer's sister raised a sharp eyebrow with doubt.

"Eh, not yet," he stammered in his nervousness. The prince was somewhat reluctant concerning his initiatives with the arch-devils like Lucifer. The hells were nowhere to make waves. "I was going to instruct the incubus after we had indulged here."

"Cadreth!" Glasya barked, disregarding the prince's excuse. "You will be in charge of an elven agent to our operation personally. Never let this one out of your sight. She goes by the name of Venn'lith Mitlan." At her decree, the scrying pool once again mutated to an image of the young sun elf. As usual, the Xochian was primping in front of a large mirror.

"This one is to be our region's ambassador to the elven youth," she said as her voice was now disembodied. "As we all know, this species is very willful and they require a shepherd of their own, especially the cantankerous young ones. Many may resist our culling and, hence, they will not enter the arks. Venn'lith will be instrumental in convincing the juvenile population that we are genuine in our empty promise of relocating them to the phony new planet."

Cadreth studied the translucent form of the image above the pool as he ground his teeth. "I don't understand the big deal, Madame President. All I see before me is just another fishie that I wish to devour."

"Ah, but my Cadreth," Glasya smiled as she returned to his view. "This one is special. We have been observing her for years now. Her peers either love her or love to hate her. Either way, when she speaks, the young masses listen. Most likely, you will even find her agreeable to your tastes. She is feisty and mean, for lack of a better description. Definitely a cabalist in the making, much like her father. "

"So, what am I exactly to do with her?" challenged the tall incubus. "Wine her and dine her? I suppose I am good for such an assignment as that one."

"Yes, Cadreth, it is true you are beloved by all females," the goetic president flashed a salacious smile at her subordinate. "Admittedly, even I entertain my own ideas about you, but you will coach this female in organizing the Atlantean Youth Parliament. With you by her side, the children of our assigned kingdom will happily trust us and willingly get aboard to their final damnation."

"What's in it for me?" he shot back in brave and ungrateful dissent.

With that, Glasya sneered and righted herself again. There would be no time for punishments at that moment and Cadreth knew it. "You are allowed to take this one back with you to the hells body and soul. We can even make this one a true succubus under your command. She can be your little personal pet, at least until you grow tired of her."

"And if I don't care for her in the first place?" Cadreth continued his dispute.

"But you will, Cadreth," his master was beginning to show her distaste for his rebelliousness. "We have studied her closely and we know that she will prove to be of your liking."

"Wonderful," the incubus rolled his freezing-blue eyes in a display of being inconvenienced. "I now have an arranged marriage."

Ignoring his cheap protests, his superior turned her attentions to the throng before her. "We must ready ourselves! This moment has arrived. Our arks are now charged enough to open the portals and begin this grand scheme. If all goes well with our plans, we should have a one-hundred-percent acquisition of the entirety of elfdom in the matter of six months. May the light of Lucifer shine upon us! I will see you all shortly on the outside. That is all."

"You heard our master!" Stolas boomed through the crowded chamber. "Remember your assignments when we get out there. Most of all, control your spite for these beings and present yourselves as saviors to their existence. That means you too, Vandella."

"Very well, Prince Stolas," she affirmed with a sharp nod.

"Good. Let us hurry with this offering before us. Don't feel the need for manners as we must be quick about it. Let us begin!"

With that, the demons in that dark chamber descended on the elfmaid's body and commenced the long-awaited festivity. Their hurried consumption left quite the mess.
The Surgeon General Reports that Ziggurats May be Harmful

**W** hen Quen'die peeked out of her window to see it filled with a giant panorama of the Corosan countryside dominated by the now-familiar form of a looming pyramid, she thought she was still dreaming and needed to wake up yet again from an embedded nightmare. Sleep did not come easy to her that first night at Nanna's. Despite the lovely scents of incense and oils that wafted through her flat, their aromas delivered no helpful lull as her mind was subjected to torrents of her plaguing worries.

As she poked her head outside the frame, she realized that she wasn't in a dream, but rather staring head-on at one of the city's many floating adwheels. This device was a ring that was framed by numerous manaballs which held a round screen aloft so that the public could view advertisements, announcements, and pertinent messages from the state or even warnings. Considering the current martial law in effect, the elfmaid supposed many civil warnings would be emblazoned across its sixty-five-foot diameter canvas sooner or later.

Why was this thing hovering so low to the ground, she wondered? Nanna's home was only on the fourth floor of the flatblock, yet she was almost peering at eye level to it. Perhaps the city officials lowered it so that the morning commuters would not let it slip like ignored garbage into the backs of their minds, thus taking it for granted like any other billboard.

No matter the reason for the intrusive adwheel, the maiden was hungry in the extreme as she had failed to eat anything since lunch at school the day before. Realizing this made her eyes swell with tears for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past two days. At the time of her last meal, everything was fine. Well, not normal, as nothing had been since these hulks appeared, but at least functional. Yesterday afternoon she still had a family and a mother who loved her. She had an annoying little brother whom she already missed with her biggest of heart and her parents had a good career that provided for the family. The notion made her head heavy and she plopped on the bed and cried with full force. It was safest to assume that today would be terrible too, so she might as well get all the tears out before it began. It amazed her how the water never seemed to run out.

Although she had only lay there with her head in the pillow for a few minutes, it felt more like half of a day. Time seems to slow to a snail's crawl when things are bad, she thought. She remembered back when Kellyn had passed away how she would sit at her dresser poring over his photos and chewing on memories of him throwing his sippycup and even him uttering his first word, which was "mana." Perhaps he would have grown to become a big-shot power warden. When she brought herself back to reality, it seemed as if the clock had moved but only a tick. Those days of grief would not pass, and that was all there was to it.

Kaedish had experienced that sensation too during that time, but he was much more vocal about it. Over and over he would whine and thrash as if he were constrained by mammoth-gut tethers. She recalled telling him that it was only time holding them down and that everything would soon turn back to normal. He asked her to tell it to speed back up and she informed him with dour reality that such a thing was impossible. He had been surly ever since.

Nanna was manning the kitchen and Quen'die could already sense the remedy to her hunger. Whatever it was she was making smelled amazing and she would eat it no matter what. It could be the raw carcass of a narwhale and she'd attack it and maybe ask for seconds. The pangs of hunger she was experiencing were somewhat welcoming as they reminded her that she was still alive and, as such, life went on.

"Quen'die!" Nanna Orsi's voice lit the emotional darkness of the morning that the elfmaid, in all honesty, didn't want to be awake for. "I'm making a special breakfast for us. I hope you were able to sleep at least a little bit last night."

"Good morning, Nanna," she said by customary habit. There really wasn't much good about the morning after your life had been demolished, but language was language. "No, I didn't sleep very well last night, I'm afraid. Everything sucks for the most part."

"Well it certainly doesn't suck eggs in this house," Nanna lamented with a giggle as she searched the refrigerator. "I really wanted to make us omelets, but we are all out." The elder lady turned to her granddaughter. "Do you think you could be a good egg and go to the cornershop and get me some?"

Fresh air in her new and, if all went well, temporary neighborhood felt like a sudden and great idea. For some nagging reason it was imperative that she get outside. Perhaps it was the gusts of warm spring air that, more or less, felt like summer blowing through her window. It was at last sunny as she could see by the slivers of blue squeezed between the crowding buildings. The scents of the day were as wonderful as the ones in Nanna's kitchen and she wanted to be a part of it in the worst way.

"Yeah! I'll do that," Quen'die was riding the wave of good energy and wanted it to last for at least a year.

"Wonderful! I just need to see exactly how much we are allowed to buy with that dreadful rationing and all," Nanna commented as she checked the tablet hanging on the refrigerator's door. The scant results formed a calculated frown on her face.

"Well, it says here that we're only allowed two ostrich eggs per week." The revelation of how little that really was dawned upon her. "That's terrible! I'm sure meat is forbidden," she continued to scroll through the calorie statement. "Yes, not a scrap of it allowed on here this week."

"Eggs are essentially meat, Nanna," Quen'die shrugged. "Besides, it's all right. I don't really like the stuff much anyway." After eating that oily ocelot at evil Venn'lith's last Feastday, she considered going fully vegetarian. It wasn't so much that she didn't like the taste of animal flesh, but the memory of it at that dinner marked the beginning of a will to change things around.

"Then, I suppose that will be our meat this week," Nanna grimaced. "In my nearly-ninety years, I have never been placed under a rationing. Oh, maybe when I visited some far-off land, but that was only a temporary arrangement I could just sail away from. This is kind of frustrating, actually."

"I guess the ADF troops need it more than us right now," Quen'die figured. "Anyway, this too will be temporary. It's probably all just a false alarm or something. Sooner or later, when nothing bad happens, the government will get as bored of this as we will and everything will go back to normal."

"Don't be so sure of that, Dee," Nanna said with gravity. "That terrible Tel'lemurian conflict has been over for nearly twenty years now and their kingdoms are still under rationing. Sometimes when a government gets an inch, it takes a mile. Or even a league."

"Heh," the maiden sputtered. "You sound like my friend On'dinn at school. 'Anybody in power is out to bleed you dry,' he says."

"Oh, yes, On'dinn Jak'sin. Such a nice lad," She looked with a fond smile out the window at that. "Such wonderful insight for a young one, too."

It dawned like a blue sun upon Quen'die that Nanna somehow knew her polemic classmate. Over the years, there had been many rumors about Nanna's "mystical" nature and even suspicions that she was psychic, but Quen'die had never experienced any true paranormal behavior out of her. Perhaps this was what her parents had spoken of?

"How on Earth do you know On'dinn Jak'sin?" Quen'die shot her grandmother a look of cocked suspicion.

"Oh!" Nanna turned back to her granddaughter. "Why, he lives on the first floor of this flatblock. He's always so nice to me and so polite. He's always offering to help me take up the groceries to the flat and whatnot. I, of course, refuse his offers, because you know very well that I am far from helpless. It's from all that meditation I've done throughout my life."

" _The_ On'dinn Jak'sin lives right below you?" Although On'dinn wasn't her first choice of comrade, having some familiarity other than Nanna in her new digs was somewhat sobering. It was a nice dose of reality in the surreal drama that was unfolding around her day by day. "I was just at a party with him back on Saturnalia!" She was speaking with her grandmother about a classmate like she had just met someone of her own age from another school district and was trading stories of familiar faces with them.

"That he does!" Nanna chirped. "Right down in Flatblock 1B. Ring him up if you don't believe me."

"No, I do believe you; it's just so weird how small the world is," the maiden followed Nanna's gaze out the window to see the adwheel puttering as slow as a flying slug off to a new location of display.

"When you've traveled the whole world at my age, you'll realize just how immense it all is. When, or if this awful martial law is lifted, I should take you on a trip with me," Nanna was beaming at the notion. "Just the two of us! You'd love the beaches of Konda in Gonduanna. It's practically summer there all year 'round."

Quen'die had never been out of Atlantis, to be honest. When she was but an elfling, her parents had taken her to Kumari on a business trip for the Circle, but she was too young to remember anything in true detail and the glimpses of it in her mind were not of any acute resolution. "That's sounds fantastic! I'd love to see other places sometime."

"Well, stick with me, kiddo, and you can be sure you'll have that opportunity," Nanna turned back to the awaiting hearth. "Dee, you should really be off to the shop now. That commuter traffic is going to be odd with all the traffic redirections and all."

"Yeah, I'll get going," Quen'die paused for a bit. "Maybe I can wrangle On'dinn to come with me. It's too bad we won't have enough food to share, but I'm sure he'll understand."

"Yes, and he'll probably give you a political lecture as to how this is all a conspiracy or some such thing," her grandmother smiled again with fondness at the notion of the young elf's juvenile demagoguery.

"Heh, I can't wait for that," the elfmaid added as she slung a spring shawl around her slight shoulders. "Maybe he can give me some insight as to how long this is all going to last."

Nanna laughed. "Oh, Dee, I'm rumored to be able to read the future, but I need no mystical assistance to know that the lad won't give you a very favorable opinion."

"Then maybe I should bring my earplugs," Quen'die flashed a wink full of sarcasm as she whirled her translucent, breezy gown out the door. "I'll see you soon with the eggs, Nanna."

Just as Quen'die was about to knock on the ragged old door to Flatblock 1B, she read the nameplate just to be sure Nanna wasn't confused. As she had expected, it read "Jak'sin" in an old and worn-out script. The elfmaid wondered how long their family had lived there, as she could feel a musty presence from behind the door. It seemed to her that their curtains were drawn as if the inhabitants preferred the gloom to the amazing day outside. On'dinn noted with usual frequency, almost as if it were a badge of honor, how broke his family was, but seeing the scuffed door in front of her made her realize that he wasn't embellishing his indigence. The presence wasn't just musty, but heavy and she felt a bit hesitant to knock on that uninviting portal. Raising a ginger fist, her soft knuckles met the wood.

On'dinn stared at her for a solid five seconds in a state of complete confusion. Seeing this classmate out of the context of school was an alien experience and he couldn't figure out why such a beautiful maiden would knock on his door at random.

"Uh, hey, Quen'die...," he shot her a look of suspicion once he had realized who she was. Quen'die Reyliss was a nice enough elfmaid, he supposed, but he didn't really consider her a friend as it stood. He wondered to himself if she too wanted to join his growing harem along with Minn'dre and Tam'laa. "To what do I owe, eh?"

"Hi, On'dinn!" the wan look he was giving her made her feel a bit stupid. "Eh, yeah...I just wanted to let you know I'm your new neighbor! So...yeah," she was attempting to recover her confidence and figured that was as good of an excuse to bother him.

"Oh, really?" he looked up the staircase out in the hallway. "Which floor are you?"

"Four. Four B." she flashed the elf four fingers like a little child and felt even more base for doing that. "Eh, I live with my Nanna for the time being."

"You mean Madame Orsi?" A sincere look of shock and wonder washed his face. What a capital grandmother to have, he thought. "That's amazing! I love Madame Orsi. I'm always trying to help her with her groceries and whatnot, but she insists I not. She's a tough one."

"Yeah, she's rather obstinate, but she's really a sweetie underneath all the mystical stuff," Quen'die knew that her Nanna had many difficulties with certain, more traditional types who feared her and even called her "evil" and "witch." Nanna referred to these dull gentry as "cemented spirits." An open-minded person like On'dinn would be certain not to rank amongst them.

"I've always wanted to learn more about all the cultures and lost knowledge of the ancients from her, but her home is like a museum! I always feel like a bull in a Tel'lemurian pottery shop when I visit her!" exclaimed the young elf.

"Well, most of that stuff she has up there is just for show, but I guess some of it has lots of value to collectors. Heh, my mother could spend hours up there like an elfling in a sweets shop and...," Quen'die didn't want to think about her mother right then. Her conflicted feelings of sorrow and anger toward her made her feel even more lost in her new home and she didn't want those emotions to sully this beautiful, sunny day. "Eh, anyway... I'm going to the cornershop for some eggs and I wondered if you wanted to come along. Maybe show me some of the sights of downtown or something. Whaddya say, Neighbor?"

"Oh, yeah. I can do that," On'dinn wanted any excuse to get out of the house at that moment. His father was once again passed out on the sofa, and since he had just fallen asleep about an hour ago, he would more likely than not be in that state that all day as he snored like a sputtering buzzsaw. "Let's get out of here."

***

The brilliant blue up above broke through the cavernous buildings that formed the downtown neighborhood. Rows of businesses and flatblocks attempted to block the sun, but nature, as always, won out and treated the pair to its warm, healing rays.

"What happened to the adwheel?" Quen'die pointed down the street to the massive anti-gravity device. "Why is it floating so low?"

"Uh, if you look at its outer hoop, you'll see that some of its manaballs have been knocked out so it can't support its full weight," the elf indicated the outages to her with a blithe gesture. "Probably, birds flew into it or something like that."

"Why don't they just fix it?" Quen'die spat. "It's so annoying! It woke me up today when it floated right past my window and that big dumb pyramid blotted out the sky! I thought I was having a nightmare!"

"Oh, it's probably the martial law and the budget and all that bureaucratic muckety," On'dinn shrugged in estimation. "I suppose you better get used to it, because I doubt the city is going to bother patching it up anytime soon. You'll learn pretty quickly that in this neighborhood, things break down and stay that way. I guess it's all a part of that 'Old World Charm' the elites go on about."

The elf made a slow turn towards the maiden. "So, why the move from the beautiful bluffside to these palatial acres? Did you get kicked out of the house or something?"

Quen'die, in all honesty didn't want to get into the morbid topic at that moment. She just wanted to enjoy the wonderful weather and forget about anything from that horrible Moonday, but she figured that the more people knew about what Venn'lith was capable of, the better they could defend themselves from any of her terrible schemes. "On'dinn, we _all_ got kicked out."

"Huh?" he shot her a confused wince. "Did the city evict you? Foreclosure?"

"No, nothing like that," she cleared her throat and collected her thoughts about the subject. "Remember when the Gonduanna Princes sang that _Tell the Truth_ about Lith at the party and everyone starting pelting her with trash?"

On'dinn let out a short laugh. "Yeah, that was awesome. I can't stand her. Venn'lith Mitlan is an elitist idiot."

"This is true, but she's an elitist idiot that blamed the whole thing on me!" the elfmaid banged her tiny sternum to pack in the point.

"So how does that get you kicked out of your home?" On'dinn gave a shrug. "I don't get it."

"My folks work for her father," she began. "That guy basically funds their whole operation."

"Oh, yeah, they're the ones going to Mars," the elf interrupted. Just days ago, he remembered that he himself had tried to sabotage her parents' livelihood but out of courtesy to his present company, he managed to blot out that guilty memory. Quen'die seemed pretty nice and he was feeling a stir of regret for his old belief.

"That's right. Well, we _were_ going to Mars," Quen'die wrinkled into a deep frown. "Then Lith snitched on me to her father and said that I beat her up at this dinner we had at their house last Feastday. After that, her father fired my father and told my mother that I was a professional and had parties of ill-repute at my house while they were away at the lab! It's all lies told by Lith!"

"Even the parties of ill-repute?" On'dinn couldn't resist the suggestive joke.

"Yes, you jerk!" Quen'die laughed back at the male's jab as she bestowed a slight punch to his shoulder. "I had nothing to do with any of it. You were even there with me at Sig'ryn's!"

"Look, Venn'lith Mitlan will get what's coming to her," the elf reasoned. "Nobody can be that ridiculously villainous and continue to get away with it."

"That's the way it should be, but what about all those people that love to hate her? It's like they keep coming back for more abuse!" Quen'die widened her eyes at the notion of such irrational behavior, and her two hangers-on Agrat and Isheth were at the forefront of that notion.

"They don't love to hate her, nor do they really love her. They hate themselves for some reason," he lectured as he avoided a garbage can. On'dinn had his fill of trash courtesy of Hyrax last week. "You should feel lucky that you aren't amongst those types that ask for it. The world is full of them."

"Yeah!" the maiden yelped in agreement. "Like that Har'din Star'dag who hosts that nasty talk show. All these people with problems in their lives call in and he just makes fun of them, even if the problem isn't their fault. Lots of times, those same people call back for more. It's like they love it!"

As they continued to stroll en route to the cornershop, the adwheel turned toward the pair and treated them to a full-frontal view of a pyramid. There was something different about it now, but as far as Quen'die was concerned, the shape had become a ubiquity and one looked like all the others.

"Hey! Did you notice that the light atop the monolith-thing barely flickers anymore?" On'dinn noted as he pointed toward the wounded announcement vehicle. "It's really steady now. I don't know what that means, but I don't like it."

"Yes, you're right!" the maiden exclaimed. "I never thought about it, but it's been like that for a couple of days now. The news didn't really even mention it. Heh, maybe we just discovered a breaking report!"

On cue, the wheel's screen flashed and the words "Breaking Report" replaced the ever-present view of the pyramid. The two stopped in their tracks as did all of the coaches traveling on the street alongside them. Quen'die could hear On'dinn groan out of world-weariness. "Oh no, what is it now?"

To answer his question, the stark and militaristic seal of Thuless'in confronted everyone stuck on the street. A proud and spartan black disc encased a graphic of a sharp, white lightning flash. For ages, the Thuless'in provinces were quick to threaten and intimidate all the other nations of the earth. Their glacial kingdoms possessed some of the most advanced weaponry in all of elfdom, and the world shook in universal terror when this image presented itself on their screens.

As expected, the title _Thuless'in United Standard Party_ banged over the oppressive seal one by one with an accompanying sound of a booming explosion for each word. On'dinn shook his head in embarrassment for that nation. "Can you believe all this macho junk? These guys have no shame."

Embarrassment turned to immediate worry when the broadcast delivered a mighty exposition of militaristic threat. Kyrin Tynko, the current High King of Thuless'in stood at a fur-lined podium with his Defense Elder and his General Prime Minister at either of his sides. Behind him, an orderly ocean of military materiel rested in a menacing formation of troops, battle coaches, dire wolves, war mammoths and the dreaded laandbaarg, which was a gigantic artillery platform developed by that warlike nation. Above him hovered flights of circular battlelimmers, their underbellies brimming with heavy casters. Swirling amongst the troops and vehicles, nude Blood Maidens danced and sang like hellish cheerleaders as wreaths of daisies and wildflowers adorned their heads. Each of these beautiful elfmaids was drenched in their ceremonial dire wolf gore. When these females were present, that meant Thuless'in wasn't joking around.

Kyrin Tynko was born in the Eastern Thuless'in province of Kev'ryss. He began his rather humble life as a poor farmhand on a dire wolf ranch. Having fled the farm on his eighteenth birthday, the opportunistic future-tyrant had relocated to their snowy capital of Ultimo. His prime years were shrouded in mystery, but his ascendency to the throne was achieved when he had assassinated King Ron'dagg V fair and square, thus claiming the gallant job for himself. The people loved to fear their new despot and even gave him the moniker of "The Blessed." Big and burly in his middle years, the dramatic leader had a gift for oratory theatrics and his ornate eyepatch had become something of a trademark. Tynko had yet to wage a proper war under his watch, and he figured now was no better time to get things started.

"Lords and Ladies of the kingdoms of Atlantis and Kumari!" the General Prime Minister bellowed with brutal might into the mirrors before him through a translator. "High King Kyrin Tynko will now deliver a most gracious declaration to your peoples!"

The striking blond ice king paused with a dramatic pose as his one blue eye bulged in stern anger. "I have been praying for your people lately. I have been praying that your meddlesome antics on an unknown world would not endanger the very lives of elfdom itself! I have been praying that the buffoonery of your scientific curiosity would not unleash the wrath of alien forces. Sadly, I am not worthy of the gods' favor as you can well see by these foul alien pyramids and your most unfortunate massacre on the ill-fated Cydonia Base."

Elves on the street were stepping out of their coaches to witness the threatening display of Thuless'in power broadcast on the adwheel above them. Mothers were clutching their little elflings to their trunks and angry males were pumping defiant fists at the Machiavellian dictator.

"Because of this, I must with a heavy heart, advise you to guard your borders and steel your troops. Soon, you will feel in total force the power of Thuless'in intervention for your failures and irresponsibility. These foreign entities will no longer be allowed to saddle themselves upon our lands! Do you want total war? Death to the aliens! Judgment to their foolish hosts! For Unity! For Purity! For Blood! For Soil!"

"I knew it!" cried On'dinn as he slammed the sides of his skinny legs in frustration. "I always knew this was going to happen!"

"What do you mean?" Quen'die winced with confusion.

"I mean, I have always known I would live to see Thuless'in attack our nation," the young elf threw up his hands with a sense of hopelessness. "Why at a time like now?"

"No time is a good time for war." Quen'die could feel herself beginning to share On'dinn's anger toward the Thuless'in king.

"Try telling that to this despotic freak!" the lad was all but foaming at the mouth as his lack of hope gave way to unfocused rage.

As the king fired up his troops with his bold grandstanding, they all began chanting the Thuless'in battle cry which had been a standard of that vicious army for ages. " _Victory Forever! Victory Forever!_ " The Blood Maidens punched up the pitch of their wailing song of destruction in angelic accompaniment. This murderous display sent chills up the spines of On'dinn and Quen'die.

Although the roar from the Thuless'in parade was quite thunderous with its beating of metered battledrums, it was no match for the deafening " _GONK_ " that was emitted just then from the pyramids. The things blasted a triumphant C major only to descend into a sickening F sharp. The sound could be heard inside the brain as Quen'die and On'dinn covered their pointed ears to no avail. It was an unmistakable phenomenon. With a quick and almost instantaneous bend in space, the pyramids unfolded into ziggurats; each and every one worldwide in perfect unison. The formerly-smooth slopes of the hulks were now kinked into thirteen giant steps running up to its fully-lit headlight. The blessed King Tynko would need to postpone his glorious battle plans.

And thus, the screaming began.
Waiting for Hell From Above

**C** orosa City had constructed a network of tunnels decades ago during a tumultuous time of political posturing between Atlantis and Thuless'in. In what had been considered a cold war, the two kingdoms were expecting one or the other to invade. Ever since the end of the Third Orc War, Atlantis had adopted a defense-only policy on paper. Of course, there were constitutional ways around striking first as had been seen by the recent Tel'lemurian Conflict, but the high throne had made a distinctive doctrine to differentiate between a "war" and a "military-police action."

These tunnels served as security shelters for the entire public regardless of finances or income. All citizens were welcome into their refuge in the event of an invasion or massive disaster. The entrances to the shelters were, in their most common design, underground and nestled in inconspicuous places, so as to deter "urban explorers" and vandals. Quen'die and On'dinn were rather taken aback to learn that the door to the shelter in which they were now huddling was located in the middle of a child's playground which was erected in the center of their flatblock's quadrangle; right next to the wooden jungle gym.

"This is really some setup!" On'dinn announced as he soaked in the cavernous structure. "I can't believe this place has been right under my nose for my whole life!" He swiveled his head both ways to see that the tunnel seemed to stretch on for hundreds of feet in either direction. Elves from all over the downtown area, many of whom were working stiffs who lived in other neighborhoods, were trying to situate themselves in a state of awed confusion as they were also amazed by the shelter's immensity.

Nanna Orsi placed an affectionate hand on the young elf's shoulder. "I can barely remember, but I was just a little elfling with bucked teeth and pigtails when the city had finally finished these things. Back then, the playground was a series of fruit stands and the door was right in the middle of them."

"Wow, things change, huh?" On'dinn intoned. "I wonder if my father made it down here?" he shook his head in shame for the old lord. "He's probably sleeping through all this."

"Don't worry about your father, On'dinn," Nanna consoled. "I'm sure he has nothing to fret about regardless of whether he is above or below. The wardens will find him eventually. Nothing bad will happen to him."

On'dinn was more concerned about what his father would do to himself in a drunken accident than from the long arm of the law or aliens from another world. As of late, the old elf had been nurturing his alcoholism to the point where he was developing an early senility. One night after On'dinn had skirted home from a Black Hood meeting, his father failed to recognize him and threatened to shoot him with his caster. It took his own son almost five minutes to convince him that he was his one and only child and that he had every right to live there. The next day, the lad had cached the caster to See You Around, their local pawnshop for resale. As On'dinn saw it, the he would rather be assassinated one day as a politician who had done something of actual consequence with his life rather than being flat-out killed as a mere teenager due to his father's liquored confusion.

"Eww...," Quen'die winced as she covered her sensitive ears. "I really wish they would knock off those sirens. They're super loud even down here." The klaxons had been going off ever since the pyramids unfolded with their invasive BANG BANG BANG. That noise was agitating many of the little ones in the shelter with its immense booms, and with each volley of the warning, most of them would begin crying from sonic pain.

"Well, the city needs to make sure that everybody gets to safety, and that can take a while," Nanna reasoned as she gleaned the milling elves. "After all, Corosa is one of the most populated places on the entire earth!"

Dotting the walls of the tunnel every ten meters or so were manascreens that were displaying the message, " _Atlantis Emergency Network System_." So far, no alerts other than this bland greeting screen were being displayed, but many of the elves who had already situated themselves were glued to the graphic in anticipation that some news or instructions would arrive over the flow.

As more waves of elves were filing into the entrance, a young lady in a pale blue labcloak boarded a raised block in the center of their tunnel's section. Quen'die poked her head down either length of the shelter and saw that other labcloaks were manning their respective stages. Their section was almost as huge as a commercial sealiner from end to end.

"Attention, everybody!" the labcloak chirped through the microphone strapped to her head. The reverberation of the sound was mingled with the synchronous announcement of the doctors down the line in either direction. "Welcome to Section 12 of the Atlantis Emergency Shelter Network. This is your designated section during your stay in this shelter, so please do not cross the red line marked on the floor as that will lead you into another section and you might get separated from your families." She was gesturing with a wild energy as she spoke and it took a few seconds for Quen'die to realize that she was using Atlantean Sign Language for the deaf. "In a few moments, a gate will drop down on that line just so it's easier to keep track of you and your loved ones. I'm Dr. Cor'maas of the Circle of Health and Safety and I'll be helping you out for the duration of your stay down here, okay?"

After she had finished her introduction, the gates she had warned the crowd about descended with slow care from the ceiling to the ground. A large yellow "12" was strapped to its canvas links. This presentation was a bit unsettling to Quen'die, and became more so when two armored bulls flanked either side of the good doctor. She now felt all but trapped upon their arrival.

"Right," the doctor continued after the gates were fully lowered. "Don't be alarmed by the guards, as they are just here for your safety and so we can have a little order down here, okay? I know this is a really big inconvenience for most of you, but we just want to make sure that everybody down here doesn't get hurt. So it's super important that you try to keep calm so you don't miss any vital instructions, okay?"

"Uh...Okaaay...," On'dinn mimicked her with sarcasm to which Quen'die stifled a giggle. The young lad was never much for authority and this condescending doctor was doing a good job at working his nerves. He figured it all wouldn't be so bad if it were not for the armors and their wicked casters flanking her sides.

"Great!" the 'cloak oozed with a phony smile. "Now, if you direct your attention to the screens above you, you'll see that we have installed them to let you know important information. When you hear this signal, it means that this session is over and it is safe for you to go back up top!" The screen emitted the piercing WOWOWOW sine wave that was identical to the sound bite delivered on everybody's tablets the other day.

"Okay, I hope this little visit is as pleasant as we can possibly make it for you. In the event that your stay here is prolonged we will be serving boxed lunches around 12 p.m." She looked at her tablet for a moment. "Oh! We're serving portabella sandwiches! Sounds good, huh?"

In all honesty, that sounded great to On'dinn and he hoped in some ways that they would be stuck down there long enough so that he could have one. The refrigerator and cupboards in his flat were bare for the most part. Maybe this labcloak wasn't so bad after all if she could remedy his rumbling stomach.

Quen'die had been down there for what seemed like ever-increasing and tedious hours, but she still couldn't take in all the action ruffling around her. Camps upon camps of elven families were squatting and wandering about their section as she was craning her neck like a meerkat to see if she recognized anyone other than On'dinn and Nanna. Everyone seemed so alien in that odd place that she figured she wouldn't recognize even her own father in her current context.

"Dee!" she heard a male's excited voice honing in from behind her. "Dee, I'm over here!"

The elfmaid strained her eyes in the gloomy light to see a bespectacled adult male jumping up and down like wild in order to flag her attention. As her eyes adjusted, she could discern that it was the spindly form of her father.

"Father!" she shrieked as she made her way toward the lord with open arms like a little lost elfling. "You're in my section!" she stated, with dumb joy, the obvious.

He looked somewhat haggard. He must have had something of a rough time on his first night away from their normal family life. This caused a deep pang of worry in the maiden's heart and she wondered if he was holding up well.

"Did you get ahold of Mother or Kaedish?" she wanted to hear her brother's voice in the worst way, but not so much Mother's. As far as she knew, Mother was in compact with Venn'lith and they could have each other if she wanted to be that way.

"Quen'die, no," Father tried to collect his thoughts over the incessant rumblings of elves in the tunnels. "I've been trying all morning, but the government has the flow blocked. I just keep getting a recording on my phone and I can't even send out a mail. I'm sure they're okay. It's just a really bad time to make contact with anyone other than good ol' face to face."

"So, where are you staying?" she cocked her eyebrow in a manner that reminded him so much of Glynna. "Did you get a hotel room or something?"

"No," he stuttered as a young elf rudely squeezed between them. "I had to check into a youth hostel. All the real hotel rooms were booked and I didn't want to break curfew, so I had to hole up with a bunch of foreign kids. Lots of university students there too." Her father smiled to himself as he let out a small laugh. "It's almost like my masters days all over again. That place is pretty wild."

"Sounds like you were having a little too much fun, eh?" his daughter joked now that she was relieved to find out he was fine. "Any university maidens chasing after you already?"

"Heh, not quite," he smirked as he adjusted his glasses. The notion of another female other than his wife made him a bit nervous. "I did, however, play hands of sunburst for most of the night with this rather interesting Avalonian lad," her father raised his brows with sardonic knowledge at his daughter. "He even claims to know you. Small world, huh?"

"Mavriel?" Quen'die exclaimed as her eyes widened to viridian saucers. "You were hanging out all night playing cards with Mavriel?"

"Take it easy there," he assured her. "The lad seems nice enough. I was a bit concerned that you didn't mention him after you came home from the party on Saturnalia, but despite that creep Mitlan's accusations, I do trust your behavior with the lad," he looked off down the crowded tunnel for a moment. "I do think he may be a bit too old for you, but he's a rather consoling sort. The gods know he was just what the doctor ordered for me in this dreadful time. That guy really knows how to make sense of things!"

"I know," his daughter stated with a bit of pride. "He's totally going to be a priest or something one day."

"Well, the cleric just so happens to be in session," Ferd'inn said with a knowing smirk. "He's in our section somewhere right down the length of this tunnel."

Quen'die's eyes were now the size of armored limmers. "Oh my gods! He's here? I need a mirror! I must look like I stepped out of a sty! I had to run to the cornershop to get Nanna some eggs for breakfast and then with all the stress of stuffing into this stupid tunnel! He can't see me like this!"

"I'm somehow certain that he isn't the frivolous type," Father reasoned. "As a matter-of-fact, I believe he would be happy with you just as is. He spoke quite fondly of you last night." Ferd'inn smiled with pride at the fact that he raised his daughter to be taken by such a fine lad. "I'm gonna go find my mother while you rush off to your knight in shining armor, okay?"

At that, Quen'die launched herself at almost top speed down the shelter's curve. The place was so crowded that she felt like she was running interference at a runta match. Despite her enthusiasm to see the plains elf again, she still made sure not to trample over any little elflings waddling around her.

"Omygods!" she giggled to no one in particular. Mavriel was just the elf she wanted to see at that moment for so many reasons. Her spirit was flying apart in all four directions and would settle again back into home place. Realizing that she was traipsing like a baby in a sweets shop, she arrested her joy as she didn't want the lad to see her look desperate. Another part of her didn't really care if he saw her in such a state. In the back of her mind, she knew he would not care if her gaiety was out of hand, but just to be on the safe side, she kept herself in check.

Not far away from the giant number "12" strapped to the somewhat menacing drop-down barrier, the seven-foot-tall Avalonian appeared to be the center of attraction. Two university-aged Kumarian females were trying with rabid effort to wrest for his attention. The pair both wore their jet-black hair in identical elbow-length pigtails. Beyond them, a few more hopeful maidens were ogling him, but did not seem to be quite as vocal about their fascination. Quen'die was not a bit surprised to see him hosting such a feminine crowd, but she was rather annoyed about the fawning display before her.

"Hey, Mavriel!" Quen'die shouted with not a care if she interrupted the two giggling high elves. Since she believed he was somehow responsible for saving her good name on Saturnalia, she felt a sense of entitlement to his company. In almost an instant, she regretted such a forceful intrusion, because she remembered that guys hated clingy maidens, or so Lauryl'la claimed.

Within the frame of a mere nanosecond, he ceased his conversation with the high elves upon hearing her call. "Quen'die Reyliss! It's so great to see you here!"

The two twinkie Kumarian maidens shot daggers with their deep, dark eyes at Quen'die who flashed them back a smug, victorious smirk. Jealousy was not one of Quen'die's favorite emotions, and it was the primary cause of most catfights when females were involved, but she figured Mavriel was worth it. Considering the throng of doe eyes batting around him, she postulated that she would have to keep her guard up with some frequency if they were ever to be an item. Grabbing him could be easy, but holding on to him could prove difficult.

"I know! It's crazy! My father told me you guys were even hanging out at the hostel last night," the elfmaid slammed the words out through a cheesy smile. She was no longer feeling self-conscious about her behavior and didn't care about such customary nonsense, to be frank. "They need to make a bigger world, huh?"

"Oh, the world is pretty big if you live in Avalon," he said as he turned his attentions toward the Kumarians. "By the way, this is Li'linn and Gu'dip. They are here from Kumari." He then went on to introduce the females to Quen'die in perfect Kumarian.

" _Namaste_ , Squealin' and Q-tip," Quen'die greeted with catty syrup whilst flashing a peace sign.

" _Namaste_ ," the two greeted likewise in sneering unison.

"Wow! You never cease to amaze me," Quen'die grabbed the male's wrist to lead him away from the hungry competition. "You can even speak fluent Kumarian!"

"You appeared to do fine with it by yourself," he mentioned as he waved a blithe goodbye to the high elves whose disappointment to his departure was quite obvious.

"I just said 'hello,'" she looked back at the females, shooting them a smarmy smirk. "Everyone in Atlantis knows how to say that in Kumarian."

"Well anyway, we should get near one of the screens here," Mavriel announced with a sense of foreboding as they walked under one of the viewing devices. It still displayed the Emergency Network's home graphic. "It's gonna get crowded."

"What's the big deal?" asked Quen'die as she pointed to the banal signature. "It's just the same old same."

"Cover your ears," he warned. As if on his cue, the screen began flashing in a sputter. The terrible noise that was emitted by the pyramid earlier that morning blared through the tunnels like a tornado. It was just as loud down there as it was out on the street. " _GONK_!" it bellowed with hellish might. As before, Quen'die slapped her hands to her ears, yet the sound would not muffle. She thrust herself by instinct in Mavriel's chest, and even though it did make her emotions feel warmer, she could still hear the foul blare at full force. He felt like he was made out of granite. It was such an odd sensation to be against something which felt like that, but was shaped like an elf. For a moment, she imagined that she was snuggled against a heated statue.

After the blast had abated, she lifted her head up to the screen above them. So it seemed, the now-ziggurat-shaped hulk had opened as there were figures emerging from the very fabric of the thing's swirling walls. There were quite a few of them and Quen'die was a bit relieved to see that they were elf-sized, instead of the giant beasts some had speculated. Moment after moment, their numbers grew. The throng of ADF forces garrisoned around the monolith was in a battle-ready position as they trained their casters at the strange new arrivals. Perhaps the Thulessian tyrant was correct? These must be genuine invaders from Mars, Quen'die thought as her heart sank to a level of hopelessness. She knew that this was going to be a bloodbath and she too could be dead by tonight.

"This isn't good," Mavriel moaned with slow warning. "I just knew this would happen."

Knew what, wondered Quen'die? How could some random lad from Avalon over at the university know anything about what was in those pyramids? He was not just a mystery; he was becoming kind of weird.

The maiden strained her eyes with the rest of her fellow audience to see what the exact nature of these beings was. They looked so small on the screen and the picture provided wasn't of the best resolution. Upon very close inspection, Quen'die thought she saw dark brownish wings folded onto the backs of the figures. Perhaps they were just backpacks, or maybe some kind of cloak.

Wings, supposed the maiden once again. Just like that creepy thing she had seen with Lauryl'la the week before on the bluffs. Perhaps the two were somehow linked to each other? Regardless of their origin, they weren't slowing down their sauntering advance despite the barking warnings of the ADF.

"What's going on here?" Quen'die asked the plains elf. "What do you know about all of this?"

"Just watch," he whispered into her ear.

The proud figure that appeared to lead the entourage out of the ziggurat's bare walls was female, and that was a definite. She looked to be as tall as Mavriel and wore her bronze hair in a cascade of thick curls. Her bangs were blunt straight across her forehead and under those bangs was a beautiful, if not a bit haughty, face. The mirrors recording the broadcast focused in on her for the best close-up they could get at their timid range. Quay'liss Dalian would be having a field day with this one. The "leader" raised her left hand with elegance and opened her lush mouth.

"People of Corosa!" she announced in a perfect Atlantean dialect into a swirling golden horn which she gripped in her right hand. "We are unarmed and we mean you no ill! Train your weapons on us all you wish, but we promise you that no attack will come from us!"

Quay'liss Dalian was bold. This boldness was usual for her, but her next actions could have been construed as suicidal by any normal elf. Upon hearing of the apparent benevolent nature of these arrivals, she jumped to seize the moment and marched herself with haste through the field of vigilant armors. On the caption at the bottom of the screen rolled the words, " _'Aliens' alleged to mean no harm._ "

The reporter was decked out in her "dug-in" attire which consisted of a blue denim workcloak and light armor padding. On the back of her armor, the word "PRESS" was advertised. The reporter looked a bit ridiculous with the small, white pot helm on her head as streaks of her platinum hair fell out in dashing locks from under its brim. "Uh, Hi and greetings!" the newsie began with bravado as she believed herself to be the first elf to make vocal contact with these alien life forms. "My name is Quay'liss Dalian and welcome to planet Earth! Love your hair, by the way."

"Greetings Quay'liss Dalian and greetings to the people of the planet Earth!" bellowed the lithe form into her horn. "I am High President Glasya Labolas of the Aldebaran Hegemony. We have arrived to offer you a magnificent service and opportunity."

"Here, Madame President, you can use one of these microphones instead of that big ol' horn. These have four-dimensional surround sound and stereophonic resolution," she rambled as she handed Glasya the mic. "Sounds so much better on the manascreen." Dalian turned around with a plastic smile to the other reporters scrabbled below her to pose for an impromptu mirror session with the striking alien.

"Eh, right," Glasya murmured as she studied the device with a cocked and somewhat confused brow. "Many thanks."

"M-Hmm! No Problem!" the reporter was overdoing it with her familiarity of these beings. What if they were riddled with some kind of disease that would instantly kill all of elfdom, Quen'die wondered? How droll would it be if the entire elven race were wiped out just because Quay'liss Dalian wanted the big scoop first?

"We of the Aldebaran Hegemony are a system of worlds many light years from yours," the High President began her lofty speech. "We wish to speak with your council of leaders to discuss a partnership plan between our civilizations. We must apologize for our timidity in opening our vehicles as we were quarantining ourselves to make sure that we were safe to enter your atmosphere and environment. We also wanted the time to learn your language so that we can communicate with each other efficiently. I do hope that you people can understand me properly."

"Yeah, right Glasya," Mavriel spat under his hissing breath. "You practically invented half of the Atlantean language ages ago." To that, Quen'die shot the plains elf a bewildered look and shook her head. What was this lad on about?

"In the coming days and weeks, we do wish that we can open a friendly and mutual dialogue," the brazen female continued. "This will involve each and every one of you as your leaders will be assured to inform. We also offer our sincerest condolences for your people who had suffered the disaster on the planet Mars. We have foreseen this event and are here to assist you with this terrible debacle first and foremost."

"Your people can actually see the future?" Dalian cut into Glasya's speech.

"Not exactly, Quay'liss Dalian," she answered. "We can, however, track the movements of lifeforms across a fair portion of the galaxy. When we had observed a discrepancy between the native populations of the Martian world versus the activity of your outpost, we knew that the native life was going to attack yours. We regret to inform you that we could not reach your expedition in time to save it, but saving them was not our goal. Such an effort would have been pointless, I am sad to say. We have arrived, to be blunt, to save you people here on Earth."

A concerned rumble of voices churned through the dark of the tunnel and not a soul present could help but wonder upon hearing that statement. What was going to happen and why did the people of Earth need saving? From what or from whom? Little by little, a relay of crying toddlers and elflings lit up through the shelter as they could tell by instinct that their parents were distressed.

"You filthy liar!" Mavriel clenched his teeth at the tall figure dominating the screen. Quen'die did not let this outburst from her new friend slip by this time. By the dull-blue light of the manascreen, she could see that the lad's eyes were tearing up a bit from under his intense frown. What could he have possibly known about all of this, she fretted?

"What's going on Mavriel?" Quen'die shook his stony arm. "Why is this lady bothering you? Don't tell me you know her too?"

"Quen'die, I have been trying to get a hold of you ever since that party and I need to speak with you about all of this," he told her with solid gravity; almost as if lecturing.

"What do you mean?" the maiden slinked back with a quick reaction. This guy was getting weirder and weirder. "I don't get it."

"Look at my arm," he said as he displayed the once-bandaged appendage. On his wrist was an infinity symbol identical to the one on Quen'die's belly; a perfect match. Upon closer inspection, it was not a henna application or even a real ink tattoo, but it was the same variety of blemished flesh. All the imperfections and curves of the shape were formed in an exact replica of her mark.

"Oh my gods!" Quen'die recoiled as her eyes all but popped out of their shallow sockets. "You are totally psycho!" An icy shiver ran though her body and she wanted to find her father as soon as possible. Remembering in that instant that he was staying at the same hostel as this weirdo made her heart sink. What if this Mavriel guy tried to hurt him, she feared?

"Quen'die, don't!" Mavriel tried. "It's not what you think!"

"I'm going to find my _Papa_!" she cried in elfling-like terror as she dissolved into the safety of the thick crowd. "Get away from me, freak!"

On the screen, the superimposition scrolled, " _Aldebarans are reportedly friendly. High President Glasya to meet with Princess Regent and Prime Minister on Midweek. Aldebarans have wings and can fly! More announcements as news develops. Quay'liss Dalian - the first earthling to speak with an alien life form and lives to tell the tale!_ "

As Mavriel poked his head over the swarm of bustling elves, the all-clear warning sounded throughout the shelter by the time he realized that his young ward had slipped away from him. This was not the time to blow it, he thought as he skulked back in silent defeat.

***WOWWOWWOW***
You're the Devil in Me

**T** he bright afternoon sun was bothering Minn'dre's eyes with a fierce sting and she wished that the usual grey periods of Atlantean spring would return. So many days in that terrible mental ward were taking its toll on her system and almost every body-process of hers seemed to be revolting against her. Her memory of that stay and the full day before it began was something of a blur, but it was told that she had been troublesome to the staff of that circle.

"Aw, Mother, my head is still pounding," she moaned as she caressed her bumping temples. She had never hated sunshine so much and plenty of it was spilling through the kitchen's curtains.

"Here, let me close the shutters too. I'm so sorry that this happened." Her mother was still in a state of confusion as to Minn'dre's hospitalization, even though the wardens had diagnosed her with acute panic symptoms due to mild head trauma and a possible dissociative episode; whatever that meant. "Minnie, what exactly did happen?"

"Okay," Minn'dre began. "Let me just say that I only went to the Royal Arena for the address with some friends last week. Then that Travius guy tried to assassinate the king. It was chaos getting out of there and there were all these armors everywhere." Her recollection of the incident was becoming foggy at this point, but since she was telling her mother a half-truth anyway, the maiden decided to ride with whatever her mind threw at her.

"All right, then what," her mother began to pour her some hollyroot into a cup. The sharp smell of it hit Minn'dre's nose and she winced in minor revulsion.

"Then, there was this lady; she was a bit older than us, maybe an upper master's student. I don't know for sure, but she said that she knew one of my friends and she wanted to hang with us so she wouldn't have to go through the checkpoint at the gates." She hated lying to her mother, but she also didn't want to give her a heart attack by informing her that she was a member of the infamous Black Hood. Well, whatever was left of them.

The young lady looked over to the refrigerator and just the sloped shape of it induced hunger pangs. It had to have been at least four days since she had a proper meal that either wasn't liquefied or shoved into her arm. Most of all, she wanted meat, which was odd because she detested the stuff under normal circumstances. "Anyway, this maiden was really weird, right? And then we all _verchin vizh nyezh stammit gereitsig zist zhie_..."

Mother's eyes popped open in disbelief. Was her daughter rambling on in another language? "Minnie, what did you just say? I didn't catch that."

"I just said that the lady was weird and we were waiting around trying to decide if we should try to ditch her," she shot her stunned mother a concerned look. "Was I mumbling or something? They put me on lots of Manalite at that health circle."

"Honey, it sounded like you just finished your last sentence in perfect Thuless'in," Mother shook her head in vexed wonder. "Have you been studying Thuless'in at the university?"

"Eww, no way!" Minn'dre winced at the suggestion. "That tongue is totally ugly. I'm all about Kumari. It's much better for my Mystical Civilizations courses and, even then, I'm not that fluent. It's a pretty tough _shashna sin gholtish shan ver denni purru'ya dum'bai gonn_."

"Minnie!" mother was in a happy shock. "That was _definitely_ fluent Kumari! My gods! You really have been studying up!"

"Seriously! I just told you that it's really tough and hope to _one day_ become fluent in it," she met her mother's excited mood with a jump. "Why? Did I just speak Kumari and not know it?"

"Oh, yes you did!" Mother beamed with pride. "As a matter-of-fact, you sounded just like an actress straight out of a Lank'aawood movie."

Minn'dre shared Mother's excitement, but not of the same variety. How could it be possible that her mind knew the thousands of words from both Thuless'in and Kumari without much or any training? She'd been on a vacation here or there to other places in her life and considered herself rather well-read, but her exposures to such tongues were fleeting at best. What was worse, she didn't even realize that she was slipping into them. Perhaps the wardens were right about her. Maybe she was going crazy and assuming multiple personalities. But why develop such a condition now? That Sammian freak only knocked her out. Back when she was in adept's school, she had witnessed many of her burlier classmates get punched unconscious at least once a month and none of them could slip into fluent languages from far away afterwards.

"Oh Mother, I'm going crazy!" she tucked her blond head under her arms. "I don't know what's happening to me!"

"Minn'dre, just have some of this tea." Mother shoved a cup of the disgusting liquid next to her crushed form on the nook's table. "It's hollyroot. It'll really help calm your..."

"Gods! Get it away from me!" The look on the maiden's face was, for an instant, murderous, as if Mother had just offered her a tall glass of red mana. "I'm going to wretch."

"Minn'dre, I'm just trying to..."

"You're trying to kill me, you old wench!" Her daughter rose from her slump with athletic might and stood before the lady like a royal before an insubordinate. "How dare you attempt to infiltrate my body with that foul trash?" Without effort, Minn'dre swiped the cup off the table as Mother watched it sail off into the kitchen's wall.

"Minnie! Stop it! What is wrong with you?" her mother couldn't contain her horror as this behavior was all but alien of her daughter. She wished that her husband were there just in case Minn'dre turned violent. The wardens at the circle had informed her of her daughter's outbursts and she wished that she could have visited her sooner, but with the martial law and being cooped in that blasted shelter all morning, she just didn't have the opportunity. Something dreadful was happening to her daughter's mind, and she was now beginning to have terrible suspicions.

"Minn'dre," her mother began in a calming tone. "Does this have something to do with your university friends? I mean, you are officially an adult now and I know it's not my business, but...," thoughts of her making a wreck of the place were beginning to agitate her. "But if you expect to live under this roof, you are going to need to talk to me about these outbursts."

"Mother, I'm not on drugs or lotus juice or anything like that. My friends are all fine," she had reverted in an instant to her old composure and this too confused Mother. It was almost schizophrenic. "I... I don't understand what's happening to me, and frankly, I think I need to run to the bathroom and get sick."

"Minnie, I'm sorry, I just...," Mother couldn't make any sense of what put her in the hospital in the first place, but whatever they had tried there must not have worked out very well.

Just last week she had made the Academic Warden's list and was quite involved in extracurricular activities. All that political stuff and whatnot. She was even involved with her day job and got along well with the other staff at the Sea and Shell. Feelings of anger and worry and confusion flashed in various increments through her heart. Lady Harvatt regretted sounding threatening about her living under her roof, but she was certain to have hoped that this behavior would not become an ongoing trend. For a second, she wished school had not been cancelled and the maiden lived back in the dorms.

Never before was Minn'dre so thankful to see the toilet. By pure luck, the outer ring was up so she could do her digestive business because she truly thought that she couldn't hold in her meager contents for much longer. Whatever drugs those wardens had treated her with must have given her a violent aversion to holly, because just the memory of its pungent odor was enough to make her flash.

It felt like hours had passed as she knelt before the basin. Taking a good, honest inventory of her recent past, she knew that this wasn't some freak bout of morning sickness and, since this was in the middle of the afternoon, any possible natal situations could be ruled out. Either way, she was worried that she was going insane in general, and her body was reacting to her new state of chaotic mind. The whole process of throwing up was so repellant to her, but she could feel her body and soul being cleansed with each purging heave, as if to make way for a new Minn'dre. Sometimes, she thought, new was not necessarily better.

By the time she could stand up again, she could still feel her legs wobble like wet reeds. The mirror treated her to a hot horror. Her eyes were still the same ice blue as they had always been. She was half-Thuless'in, after all, but there was a difference to them that she had to think about to identify. The pupils seemed much larger and this made the blue ring around them look less powerful. Put together, this combination made her look insane indeed, yet somehow much more intelligent than she fancied herself to be, and she considered herself pretty smart.

For what seemed like half of an eternity, she stared at her eyes and felt conflicting moments of giddy glee and spite for herself. She carried spite for pretty much everything, truth be told. It was almost as if the very atmosphere of the earth itself was a disgusting notion and she just wanted to flush the whole globe down the toilet. Elves, birds, bees and beasts. Not out of hate for the forms themselves, but out of, perhaps, jealousy? Everything had to go, and yet, another part of her reviled upon those intrusive thoughts.

Something amazing was getting ready to happen and she needed to speak with those things that had just produced themselves from out of the pyramids. It was almost as if divine providence had released her from that foul health circle so she could make contact with them. They were waiting for her and she needed to observe them. But why, she wondered? This was, to be sure, a strange occurrence, but how could she be involved with any of them? What were they in all honesty? The news reported that they are from another world and that, except for wings on their backs, they were much like ordinary elves. One of their representatives even claimed that they were the genetic analogs of the elven race or some such nonsense. She had always learned in school that dolphins were their forefathers, but what did all those haughty scholars really know?

All Minn'dre wanted to do was to lie down and sleep. It was true that was what she had been doing for the most part of the full past week, but the aftershock of all the poking and prodding and drugging had taken quite a toll on her system, and she figured that was what all this was attributing to. Her strange eyes, her outbursts and her strange aversions were probably the aftereffects of too much Manalite. That had to be it. Perhaps even her polyglottal fugues were induced by her brutal treatment at the hands of the health wardens? Maybe the drugs had unlocked some hidden knowledge in her brain? Whatever the source of her situation, she needed to collect herself with some rest and with a hopeful blessing, some good dreams.

"Honey, are you all right?" Mother called from down the hall as Minn'dre rushed away to plop onto her awaiting bed. "Minnie?"

"Yeah, Mother, I'll be fine," she hollered back. "I just need to crash out. This has all been way too much for me today."

"Well, okay, but if you need any...," Minn'dre drowned out her mother's voice with a soft slam to her door.

Her room looked just the way she left it when she last woke up there almost a week ago, but her emotional memory of it was forgotten. The place could have been just another mental ward as far as her heart was concerned. She hated that feeling and she just wanted everything to get back to normal. She just wanted to get back to the days before she ever heard of that Sammian lady. It was her. Sammian was the reason for all of this, but she couldn't quite pin in her mind as to why.

Propped against the side of her bed in the gloomy room, her tablet rested, beckoning. She needed to get back in the flow with her friends or someone else so the familiarity she longed for would resurface. Examining her messages would help expedite that journey, she supposed.

Message after message, the glowing inbox had all but filled in her absence. Sure, there was the obligatory spam from Manamart. She kicked herself for ever getting on that list. No matter how hard she had tried to opt-out, the messages would still arrive. Many of her Black Hood, or was it _former_ Black Hood, compatriots mailed her as well. Most of them, barring Travius, who was most certain never going to touch a tablet again, except to sign his execution scroll, had messaged her in frenzies informing her of their status. After some mandatory interrogation by the government, all were let off the hook, and once they had undergone intensive biomana scans, their exoneration process was complete.

Her work messaged her and informed her that she was fired and had already been replaced by another barista. Wonderful, she thought. Perhaps she could use the extra time to volunteer with a real and less extremist political party. Now that these aliens had landed, she was sure that somebody's entourage needed an extra hand out there.

As for her old and certain-to-be defunct political group, she could have cared less. The case was closed as far as she figured it. Travius was correct about the kingdom's meddling with Mars and, so it seemed, the expedition had paid dearly for it. Sometimes she hated being right, and especially, when it was too late. Mission accomplished. Whoopee.

One message that piqued her interest was from On'dinn Jak'sin. Upon closer inspection, he had left a few of them. The poor guy was so smitten with her, but without the Black Hood, what in actuality was the purpose of their relationship, she considered? He was still in adept school and had quite some time left in it at that. The maiden was worried that she had led him on, but in all honesty, she was just reciprocating his attentions in her own style. If he misconstrued it as something more, he would just have to get over it. She was an adult now (although she didn't always feel like it) and the dramas of adept school were just out of the scope of her person. Been there, done that.

FROM: Basil

TO: Nightbloom

Hey, I went to visit you at the Health Circle and you were really out of it. You didn't mean to call me those names, did you? No, I know you didn't. You were just in a haze or something. But, I'm so worried about you. You must call me when you get out of there. Please get well soon.

This would prove to be tough, Minn'dre fussed. She would have to let the scamp down easy, but the lad's convictions could be very gripping. Groping through her nightstand in the room which she had left dark, she could feel the shape of her phone. Any light at that moment would make her head feel like it was fit to explode.

"On'dinn. It's me," she whispered into the device as she braced herself for his wired response.

"Minnie! Where are you! Oh my gods, I can't believe you actually called back! It's been like four..."

"On'dinn, please. I need you to calm down some." As she had suspected, his prattle was triggering another throbbing headache. She hoped that this conversation wouldn't spark a fight or a bout of tears. There just wasn't enough juice in the patience department for her at that time.

"Okay. Okay, I'm calm," he assured her. "I just don't understand what's happened to you. You know, we both got bonked on the head by that Sammian witch but, frankly, I must have received the longer end of the stick. Shoot, I even went to a party with the Zobbos on Saturnalia!"

"On'dinn," Minn'dre was having difficulty mustering the words of what she wanted to say to him, not so much that it would break his heart, but more so that it wouldn't break her nerves. "On'dinn, I'm caught up in something really strange."

"What do you mean?" he felt somewhat sick as he could sense by the heavy tone in her voice that she wanted to end this call as fast as possible, perhaps permanently. "The Black Hood is free now. I don't get it."

"It's like I'm going through a weird change or something. I don't understand it myself," she paused to collect her thoughts and choose her words. "I'm not in league with anyone if that's what you think. It's just that I feel so... different."

"No, it's just all the Manalite from the wardens," he tried to reason with her in a panic. "I saw you yesterday and you were really out of it. It was like you were being controlled by someone else. Heh, you even told the psychwarden that his wife was cheating on him, and from the look on his face, I think you were right!"

"Yeah," she began. "Not only that, I'm now speaking in multiple languages fluently. Heh, 'press 'one' for Atlantean...' Oh, and I keep blacking out and the sun makes my head want to split wide open. Look, I'm so sorry that you got caught up with the Black Hood like that. I just..."

"But joining was my choice!" he protested. "You had nothing to do with that. Had I never signed up, I would probably have never met you. I knew the risks, Minnie."

"I know. I understand," she huffed as she collected her words with some more care. "What I mean is there is something inside of me. Something in my head and even the psychwardens are saying that I may have another personality or something. The point is, On'dinn, is that I'm dangerous for you."

"Don't say that!" he was becoming rifled again and his heightened pitch stabbed Minn'dre's ear. He sounded so young at that moment. "You have just been let out of the Health Circle! It'll take a little time, but I'll still be there for...,"

"No," she admonished him. Her temper was beginning to flare as this was just what she had been expecting and that was quite an annoying premonition. "Don't say that, because I can't be there for you. As a matter-of-fact, I won't be there for you because I don't want you to get hurt. I just don't know what I'm liable to do or what I may drag you into again."

"So what, exactly, are you trying to say?" the elf was now heated in full and the maiden could tell that he was going to either begin yelling or weeping. This was going south in a flash. "Are you trying to say you want me to stop calling you? To never hang out with you again?"

"What's the point, On'dinn?" she snapped at him. "The Black Hood is finished! I'm going totally insane and you are just too..."

"Too what, Minnie?" he challenged. "Go ahead. Say it."

"Young," she gave him his expected answer. "You're too young to get caught up with me. I don't even know what's happening with my head and you are just too young to have the wherewithal to deal with it. Sorry."

"Fine, Minnie," he shot back with dejected pride. "If that must be the way it has to be, I'll leave you and your alternate personalities, as you claim, to yourselves. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to go and play with my rubber ducky."

"No, On'dinn. Don't be like..."

"Bye!" he hollered in childish rage as he left the flow with an abrupt cut to the flow.

"Well, that went fabulously," she said to the empty darkness of her room. Minn'dre admitted to herself that his little tantrum did reveal his true age and what a difference the two made when it came to problem solving. Perhaps, she considered, in a few years he would be more ready for her, or someone like her, but he was just born too late. The lad had plenty of potential, but now was not the time for her, and probably for him as well, to develop any kind of meaningful relationship. Mars was now a no-go, the Black Hood vilified, the whole kingdom was under martial law, and these beings from another planet had stopped by Earth to have a chat. So much was happening in the world that the notion of hooking up with a male seemed so miniscule.

"Yes, you handled that well, Minn'dre," the voice said from behind, or perhaps, beside her.

"What?" the maiden's pointed ears shot up like twittering antennae in a storm. "Who said that? Where are you? I-I have a caster!"

"No need to muster any arms against me, Lady Harvatt," it continued. "I am friendly."

With frantic haste, she summoned the lights on in her room. Despite her time there, the walls still seemed unfamiliar as she had not yet adjusted to her old surroundings. Even her prized Maladroit poster looked all but foreign. "All right, then, _Friend_. Where are you? Show yourself!"

"Minn'dre, I am above and so below. I am here, and yet, I am elsewhere." His voice, if it was a "he," was rather soothing to her mind. He not only sounded friendly, but sagacious, however, his enigmatic speech was really working on her tender nerves.

"Whoever you are," she spoke up to her bare ceiling. "You sound more like a monk in a bad Tel'lemurian chop-socky movie. Can it with the esoteric talk, and just tell me who you are, because you have been causing me nothing but trouble this past week and, frankly, I think I'm going mentally insane!"

"Well, now!" the voice cooed. "You need not be rude, but my apologies, Minn'dre. My name is Lucifer. You may call me that, as I am known by many names. You are not afflicted mentally or cognitively, of this I assure you. I am just sharing you with yourself for now. Does that make sense?"

"So, you're the one that keeps putting foreign words into my mouth?" she belted back.

"Well, yes, I am again sorry about that," he answered. "I just need to adapt to your vocal patterns for when I need to speak through you. Don't worry; I will not hijack your voice with mine when I need to do this. That would be rather funny though, don't you think?"

"No, Lucifer. It would not be very funny," she retorted in a matter-of-fact groan.

"Why are you here? Why me?" she pled. "I still can't understand the nature of what's happening here and I think I'm just going to ignore you," her temper and fear were both rising and she just wanted to go back to sleep. For days, if need be.

"We have much work to do," he said. "That will just not be an option for you, I am sad to say. Are you aware of that mark on your back? That is my entry point and it allowed me to...let us just say, 'hitchhike.'"

"What!" Minn'dre jumped out of her bed with more energy than she had felt in days and threw her spring tunic off. In the mirror, she saw that the symbol was still there and was just as fresh as it was when she had first received it. On her lower back, a red circle housing a triangle stared back angrily at her twisted, topless form. She found it disgusting and freakish.

"Get it off of me!" she demanded of her ceiling again.

"Oh, dearest Minn'dre, I don't think you would want that to happen," Lucifer warned.

"Why not?" she challenged. "You put it on there, now be gone with it!"

"If I were to do that, I would be stuck within you permanently!" he explained. "We wouldn't want that now, would we? Let me just say that I am in league with your Earth's most gracious visitors. I suppose you could say that I hold an upper office with them. What I am doing is like a remote control contact method, if you will. The process is relatively painless, and you won't be any the wiser to its machinations. Do not worry that I will emit any embarrassments with your mouth, for I am quite in control and know what I am doing."

"Tell that to my creepy psychwarden!" Minn'dre rebelled while trying to keep her voice down. She feared attracting her mother's attention only to have her bear witness to her talking to herself. "The one you freaked out because _I_ had to tell him about his philandering wife!"

"Eh, yes, my apologies," Lucifer replied with a sheepish smirk. "That wasn't me. Seriously."

"That's what all the guys say...," the maiden mumbled.

"What? I don't quite follow," the alien voice said in honest vexation.

"It's nothing," Minn'dre brushed her long blond bang behind her ear. "Just your typical male problems. Lack of accountability and whatnot. You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, I'm sure I would know all about that," he intoned upon her clarification. This one was willful, he decided, but weren't all elves by nature? "Regardless, I wish for you to go to the mirror now. I need to finish my vocal attenuation with you."

"Your what? Your vocal atten...," she was becoming more confused, despite now knowing the name of her psychic captor.

"Go to the mirror and look at it," Lucifer instructed. "Clear your mind and let the words come out. Do not hold back and don't fight it. That could prove to be a bit unpleasant for you."

It was pointless in trying to wrench normalcy back into her life. Turning herself around in full, Minn'dre stared deep into her own eyes. The blue rings were being swallowed away by the black of her pupils. It was like an aperture on a manamirror. As she was no longer in control of herself, she gave in to the compulsion to open her mouth.

"Aye-Eee-Eye-Oh-Yoo..."

"Aaa-Eh-I-Ah-Uh..."

The elfmaid raised her head and tilted it back as if to expel a gigantic sneeze. Instead of mucous and sputum, a torrent of blood sprayed the glass and it almost covered her reflection. The young lady's face smiled through the red grue with empty eyes.

"Hello," the intruder said in his gentle way by using Minn'dre's dripping mouth and voice. "My name is Lucifer."
Sugary Tea

" **A** nd then, he practically grabbed me and told me to come back! As if he owned me!" Quen'die frowned for a moment as more worries gripped her mind. "I'm just afraid that he may try to hurt Father in retaliation. He's staying in the same hostel!"

As always, Nanna Orsi sat back and reflected each of her granddaughter's words in her calm way. She had a manner about her that could not be shaken, and as the years passed, her tolerance to drama, especially those dramas concerning the heart, were easier and easier to navigate.

"Bunny, I really don't believe you have anything in that manner to worry over. Mavriel has his intentions, but by no means are they what they seem." She paused again as she peered out the old picture window at the dimming evening sky. "He is of a, well, different variety than us."

"What do you mean?" Quen'die's eyes bulged with wonder. Nanna knew many things about pretty much everything, but how would it be possible that she had any compact with some random lad from the wilds of Avalon? "Don't tell me you know him too? He's quite popular for a foreigner, I guess. First Father and now, you."

Nanna smiled and turned her attentions into her granddaughter's direct gaze. The old lady was as lucid as ever and senility was never a wonder about her. "Yes, Quen'die. I suppose you could say that I know him."

The young maiden slunk back into the posh antique chair which was, without a doubt, centuries old. Such a declaration tore at her nervous system and flared-up her cramps. Her birthday was this weekend and she prayed to the Twelve that these aches would subside by that time. It was as if a painful game of Ping-Pong was being played on each half of her body and it was going into overtime. Nanna was something of an herbal connoisseur and the elfmaid hoped that she had some decent tea around to remedy this. That, or healthy dose of Manalite. "Okay, that was the last thing I needed to hear right now. Eww...Cramps! Need tea, now!"

This lit Nanna's face into a sunbeam. Quen'die had been experiencing these bouts for the past few years and they tended to hit her to a rather violent degree. "Oh, Dee, I have just the remedy for this. Let me get some of that chamomile."

"Is it the real stuff?" the elfmaid asked as she was close to being doubled over.

"Of course!" Nanna intoned with pride. "I would never put that corporate mana-infused rubbish into my body. It doesn't work anyway. You know, I still need this from time to time myself."

"No offense, Nanna, but aren't you a little old for that?" Quen'die's sharp brows were cocked in slight disbelief.

"Well, some of us still keep going, I suppose," she said as she made her way to an old ornate cabinet. Spices, herbs, and potions bristled in a variety of cryptic containers. The ages of these ingredients and their origins were a complete mystery to Quen'die, but Nanna had them all. Each and every one of them could remedy some sort of ailment and, if mixed in the right fashion, much quicker than any mass-market synthetic.

"Now, let's see...ah, here is the chamomile," she grabbed an old jade decanter. Judging by its scuffed surface, the thing could have been an official ancient article as far as Quen'die knew. "Let's see those blasted civil wardens try to ration this from me, eh? Speaking of which, I still have a stockpile of all the sugar we'll need in the larder. They always seem to ration sugar throughout martial law for some reason."

Her nanna was right. It was the perfect prescription for the problem as Quen'die could feel the hot drink massage her innards without any pressure. It was such a strange experience, but her nerves seemed to calm down as well. "Oh, thank you, Nanna!"

"It's good, yes?" Nanna was savoring her own cup of it. "I acquired it directly from Kev'ryss. Like I said, it's the real stuff."

"Heh, it's hard to believe that anything good could come from the home of stupid Kyrin Tynko," Quen'die joked as she gobbled the hot medicine with the gusto of a red water buffalo.

"Look, Quen'die, not all that comes out of Thuless'in is evil or bad," Nanna lectured. "That's just propaganda. During my travels in my youth, I had met many amazing people from there and they were just as grand as the best our kingdom could offer. Oh, I remember An'drigg Froy'tagg. My, he was something else." Nanna let out a rather amorous sigh as a devious grin crossed her face.

"Nanna! My ears!" Quen'die laughed at her innuendo.

"Anyway," the lady saved. "Speaking of males, your Mavriel, as I have said, is something special. I really do wish you would have listened to what he had to say, but I can understand how a young maiden like you would feel the need to keep up her guard."

"You can say that again," Quen'die reasoned as she went for another swig. "For instance, my runta captain turned out to be a total drunk! How can a maiden know the real elf from a total loser? I guess it's like Rylla was saying, that you need to step back for a moment and take a good look. Use your intuition and stuff."

Nanna laughed at that. "Yes, Rylla is a wise one. Well, at least streetwise. A true lady will always go with her guts. So many males out there are quite good at using a social camouflage that we females can easily see through if you know what to look for." Nanna laughed even more heartily. "When we call them out on their devices, they always look so confused, and hopefully run away!"

"It's totally easy, and even I still don't know what I'm doing!" the maiden exclaimed. "Like, I already know that On'dinn Jak'sin is insecure despite all his political posturing."

"Certainly," Nanna agreed. "You can feel it all by the way he carries himself. You must remember that only twenty percent of our communication is verbal. I believe our males don't truly know this. After all, have you noticed how much his ears twitch when he speaks? Now, that's a dead giveaway."

Nanna's manascreen came to life without a warning or a summons. Splashed across the canvas, the graphic for the Atlantean Emergency Network scrolled with pride as the national anthem was blaring. The presentation gave both Lady Orsi and Quen'die a jump causing the young elfmaid to wobble her teacup and almost drop it.

After the extravagant display of national identification, the familiar face of Quay'liss Dalian adorned the screen and she was once again looking in top form with the blond of her hair almost overtaken by a shimmering blue dye. As per usual, this reporter worked her way to monopolize the coverage of the new arrivals to the kingdom.

"Good evening Atlantis!" the newsie began. "Quay'liss Dalian here, and I'm standing in the middle of the Central Avenue of Heroes with an amazing report from our newly-arrived guests from the Aldebaran system! With me now is High President Glasya Labolas who would love to share an announcement with everyone in the kingdom! These are privileged words, and no editing or redacting has been employed. Please, dearest viewers, take these words to heart as we are about to learn who the Aldebarans really are and why their visit to our world is so important! President Glasya."

"Many thanks, Lady Dalian," the majestic being before the manamirrors possessed an awesome beauty that could not be matched by any lady that Quen'die had ever seen on the screen or in person. She was of elven stock; she had to be, as she had ears of the most elegant pointing and a facial structure that was a perfect blend of chiseled softness. Her skin was almost as brazen as a high elf, but it carried a golden sheen to it that was unlike any race known to Earth. The most striking feature was her hair which was like spun copper yet not coppery-red and sculpted into perfect curls separated by the bluntest of bangs. Quen'die could not take her eyes off the screen and was studying in the back of her mind the ways in which she could emulate that amazing hairdo. Like Mavriel, this Glasya looked like a living statue and made for a wonderful close-up.

"Oh, I really wish the government would not just cut in like that," Nanna moaned. "Its abruptness nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Lords and Ladies of Atlantis," the president began. "We of the Aldebaran Hegemony offer you another greeting. It is our wish to inform you that your troubles with the Martian crisis are to be remedied with our most gracious assistance. There have been many reports circulating throughout your kingdom that we are your forefathers. This rumor is not a falsity as we have, eons ago, spread our seed on your surface. As you can see by my very features, we do share many biological similarities and this is no coincidence. You are essentially our children and we have arrived here to rescue you from a most distressing dilemma."

"But Nanna!" Quen'die yelped. "How can they be like us if they have wings?"

Nanna Orsi raised a hand to shush her granddaughter. The maiden could see that the wise old lady was studying the High President like she was a lab rat. As far as Quen'die could tell by the concerted frown on her face, Nanna was not convinced of her report one hundred percent.

"As you all know," the strange lady on the screen continued. "You have been the subject of an unfortunate event on your Martian colony. I assure you people that this crisis has not been fully quelled. Your expedition has been ruined by the barbaric native forces of that planet. We have been observing your progress there from a distance and we have tried desperately to arrest such a travesty in time, but our forces could not reach yours quick enough. For this, we apologize."

"This is all too weird for me," Quen'die blurted. "I still don't get this, and I don't like it."

"Oh, I don't either," Nanna agreed as her eyes were still affixed to the screen.

"To be blunt," Glasya continued. "Your expedition has been compromised by your ancient enemies whom you call the orcs. Mars is one of their homeworlds and your curiosity of it has sparked a renewed feud between them and your people. Actually, this hostility is older than your people's existence, as we Aldebarans have been plunged into various wars and debates with an older variety of this rather uncompromising race of people throughout the ages in our home system."

Quen'die slapped her hand to her face as this information was shoving spikes of ice through her back. What would happen and how could elfdom even pray to resist the age-old power of these terrible beasts? Nanna, on the other hand, sunk back in her chair and cocked a disbelieving eyebrow, with elegance, as always.

"With a heavy heart," Glasya bowed her brazen head. "It is the duty of my High Command to inform you that the invidious forces of the Martian orcs are en route to your planet. Your civilization is not prepared to have a shred of hope to defeat these beings as they are immune to your defenses for the most part."

Quen'die began dripping tears by pure reflex upon hearing this. Her grandmother placed a gentle hand on her arm, but the young maiden could not feel it. At that moment she felt more alone than she did when Venn'lith had delivered her tragic demands the week before. How could the entire population of Earth figure a way to repel an onslaught of these creatures?

"Fear not, good people of Atlantis and all of the earth!" Glasya raised a lithe fist in wan triumph. "We of the Aldebaran Hegemony have prepared a complete plan which will usher in your salvation! With our tutelage, our powers will be combined to escape from this terrible incident, as we love you with our hearts and souls. You are, after all, our children and we cannot bear to abandon you to an impossible fate. Think not of this as a defeat, my noble progeny, for this is an opportunity to enjoy a new life on a new world which we have prepared for you through diligent study and scouting."

Dalian paused at this. Her unshakeable demeanor and delivery, which was almost a trademark for her, was arrested by what Glasya was getting at. "So, if I am hearing this correctly, you are saying we need to...evacuate? Evacuate our planet?"

The High President let go a small grin. "Evacuation is the best solution our people have for you, as distressing as this may seem. Other options could exist, but if we were to, say, attack these Martian beings with our own forces, it couldn't be guaranteed that they could arrive in time with enough force to counter them. Mars is far away from your perspective, but to us, it's practically on top of you, according to the galactic map. The time to muster a defense force in your interest would be unfeasible and would most likely fail. Even if we were to assist you in a stand against them on your own soil, the combat would be devastating, and if we did win, the victory would be pyrrhic at best."

Dalian attempted to regain her composure, yet her usual plastered smile would not reform. "Give it to me straight. How much time do we have?"

"According to our readings, the Martian First Armada, as they call themselves, will arrive to beachhead your atmosphere in a year; give or take a couple of months. Because of this small tolerance, we would wish to have your people off the surface in six months' time." Glasya was not speaking to Dalian in a direct manner, but rather, she addressed this deadline square in the face of the viewing public.

"Oh my gods! Nanna! Where are we going? What's happening?" Quen'die's tears were drenching her face as she couldn't contain the horror of leaving Atlantis, much less the earth itself. Nanna could only train her eyes on the screen as she continued to clutch the young maiden's arm.

"That isn't much time," Dalian commented in a foggy stupor. "What sort of plan do we have for this? Does it involve these pyramids? Eh, so many questions." Her fluster was becoming quite apparent now as she too was dribbling silent tears from her eyes. It could be assumed, anyone who heard that broadcast was joining in her grief at that moment.

Glasya continued. "These pyramids, as you call them, are vital to this operation. Yes, you will all be leaving in them. We have delivered enough of them for each and every one of you. Just so you know, their official names are 'Thelemic Arks.'" Glasya put her own hand on Dalian's now shrinking form for consolation. "We have modified these vehicles to accommodate every member of your population for a safe and timely trip."

Nanna looked about the length of her tiny apartment in a calm faze. So many years of collections and acquisitions were, without a doubt, going to be left behind. According to the High President, there were only mere months left with her spices, potions, books, herbs, and any other ancient device or tool which she had accrued throughout her ninety years. In many ways, these things defined her as a person and now, their transience made her feel so petty. She joined her granddaughter's tears at that.

"Where are we going?" Dalian was choking back loud sobs now and was no longer a stalwart reporter but just another scared maiden. Now was a time for professionalism, but such a quality was not in her inventory at that time.

The stately lady gave Dalian a calm look of warm comfort. "The name of your new home is entirely up to your people, but it is located in the Taurus system. It's not very far from our home world, astronomically speaking. It has an atmosphere very much like yours' with a fully-developed manasphere, so you won't need to live in primitive conditions. I know that this is seemingly terrible news for you, but you must realize that the alternative is death or enslavement. The bright side is an untapped and wonderful new world which is very similar, yet a bit alien to the earth you know and love."

Glasya turned her attentions back to the public by way of the mirrors. "Tomorrow, I will personally meet with the High King and your government. We will coordinate an evacuation plan and send these instructions directly to you as well as how to manage your final six months on Earth. Please, we of the Aldebaran Hegemony implore your cooperation and assistance."

Quay'liss Dalian was, for all intents and purposes, in her own puddle of woe. Glasya's words "final six months" broke the newsie like a young mustang. Shielding her shattered will with a hand over her face, Dalian shoved her other palm over the mirrors. "Please...cut the flow. We'll... be back. Thank you."

Nanna looked down at her granddaughter and sighed. In many ways she wished that this was happening at the end of her life, but being only ninety, she had at least another sixty years of pioneer life on a new planet. Too old to explore, yet too young to pass it all away.

"I don't know what to do, Nanna!" Quen'die let out something close to a squeal. "I want my mother! Why isn't she calling me?" The maiden was losing her grip and Nanna Orsi figured that she would just let her work that out by herself.

"Quen'die, we will not be separated," Nanna said with slow care as she looked at the AEN graphic that was resting like an immoveable rock on the screen. "We will find your mother again. Just give it time."

Both were jolted from their sorrow as the door announced, " _Madame Reyliss, you have a visitor_!"

The tall elf filled the apartment's decorative doorway. Quen'die sucked back all the air she could muster into her lungs with a yelp. What was Mavriel doing here and why was Nanna falling into his embrace?

"Mavriel!" Nanna sang as if her tears were forgotten. Why this lad triggered relief in her grandmother boggled Quen'die's mind. Truth be told, Quen'die was still a bit freaked by him and this all made her nervous.

"Orsi, it's so good to see you face-to-face finally," he beamed a calm smile which Quen'die had admitted to herself could be addictive.

The young maiden thought she was going mad, but perhaps it was just a side effect of the cramps. Just earlier that day, this very lad had scared her to death but, all of the sudden, his smile washed those fears away in an instant. Was it due to Nanna's apparent familiarity with him or was it because seeing a potential psycho was somewhat preferable to knowing that she would have to leave Earth in a few months? It was probably just the cramps.

"Okay," Quen'die began with a wan groan. "How do you guys know each other? I feel like I'm in the middle of a joke that everyone gets except for me."

Nanna stood next to the towering lad and presented him like he was her own son. "Quen'die, Mavriel is a very special and always-welcome guest in my home! I'd just like to say that he and I have been in cahoots for some time now."

"So?" This announcement did nothing to stem the maiden's curiosity and she was becoming more agitated. "I still don't get it."

"Quen'die," Mavriel began. "As I was trying to explain to you earlier today, you are," he paused as he found a way to collect the words, "assigned to me."

The maiden winced without a shred of trust. "You make me sound like a project for Biology class."

"No," Mavriel corrected with a smile. "You're more like my job." He turned his braided head to her grandmother. "Orsi, maybe you should explain all this to your granddaughter, because my attempts earlier today failed miserably."

"How do I say this," Nanna presented with a pause. "Mavriel is what you call a ' _Deva_.'"

"He looks like an elf to me," Quen'die shot back, unimpressed. She worried for a moment that Nanna would take that as a strike against her, but her mistrust of this lad still simmered.

"Well, a deva is your spiritual guardian. We all have one, even Kaedish and your parents. Mavriel just so happens to be yours! I've been contacting him through rather special means ever since you were born, even though I really am not supposed to."

"Basically, Quen'die," Mavriel continued now that Nanna had made a safe introduction for him. "I am in direct league with the Creator, as are all of we devas. We live beyond your space and time, I suppose, in what you call an 'afterlife.' What your people call 'Paradise.' When it is your time to pass away, I am in charge of delivering you to the right place."

"People die all the time," the elfmaid was tapping her foot. "I've never seen a 'deva.' Let me guess, you're invisible."

"Yes. Normally, yes we are," Mavriel answered with a blunt nod. "I am, however, recorporated into your dimension so that I can directly contact you. The Creator has assigned you to me as a special circumstance. That's why we have perfectly-matching marks, and I assure you that this sigil on my wrist isn't a tattoo or a grease burn."

"What's so special about me?" Quen'die demanded. "I just have red hair and I made the Academic Warden's list. Big deal."

"I will divulge all that to you in time. To be honest, you yourself will divulge that mystery, but right now, I just need for you to know me as who I really am so that we can begin to get things underway," the deva explained. "As you can see, in this last week, your world has been undergoing terrific events. I am sad to inform both you ladies that not everything that you have heard from your visitors is true."

Nanna nodded her head in agreement with this lad. Her face had turned solemn. She too knew something about all of this, but how, Quen'die couldn't figure out. Perhaps it had something to do with all of her travels and studies throughout the years in far-flung places.

"What's going on with all of this?" the maiden was becoming more worried as her eyes bulged with fear.

"These visitors in the arks are not from Aldebaran or any planet," Mavriel began. "They, like me, do not reside in this dimension. They once were my brothers and sisters long ago, and many of them were devas as well, but there had been a terrible fight. A rebellion in our home, if you will. The beings you see on the screen, including Glasya were once known as the 'Angelic' race, just like me. After they were cast out of the loving light of the Creator into another, and terrible dimension of their own, we now refer to them as 'Infernals.'"

"Ewww," Quen'die shrunk back. "I don't think I like the sound of that: 'Infernals.'"

"No, and you won't," Mavriel intoned. "They are now the adversaries of the Angelics and of the Creator Himself. They are deceitful, treacherous, lecherous, and murderous. Any fear or hatred that you have felt in your life is home to them. Their reality is nothing but a relentless mockery of anything that you or my kind would consider a virtue."

"Yeah, but virtues can be sometimes constricting," Quen'die lectured.

"Yes, I can agree how one of free will would feel that way," Mavriel nodded. "But when you have no option but to eschew virtue, as is the case with the Infernals, this can be painful and just as constricting as well. They hate your free will and they aim to take that away from you if they can. Essentially, their goal is permanent slavery and eternal torture, the likes of which no elf has ever been able to orchestrate in your history. Not even the Thuless'ins."

"Angelics, Infernals, Devas," Quen'die shook her head in frustration. "It's all beyond me. I don't believe it. What about the gods? What do they have to say about all of this? Why just Ui? No, I don't think I believe any of this.

Mavriel looked over to Nanna Orsi and gave her a quick wink. "May I?"

Nanna let loose a knowing nod to the tall male and laughed. "Oh, don't let me get in your way!"

With haste, Mavriel disrobed his simple tunic as shimmering silver-white wings erupted from his back. They were in the pattern most like that of a dove, but still different in shape from that species of bird. The whole apartment seemed to lighten along with the faint glow that emanated from the appendages. Quen'die's disbelief was shattered only to be replaced by a mistrust of her immediate senses. Was she going completely insane as a result of all the pressure from the past week, she wondered? That had to be the case and this Mavriel was not what he had seemed, in any event. Under normal circumstances, such a perfect masculine display would arouse rather tingling feelings in her, but the unearthly additions to his back trumped those desires. The young maiden yelped in surprise as that was the only response she could form.

"No, you're not going insane, Quen'die, I assure you," Mavriel chuckled as if he could read her mind. Could he, she wondered? If he was her guardian, or watcher, or whatever, that was a complete possibility. Psychic or not, he could fly and that in itself was bizarre. "But I do hope you notice some glaring differences between me and the Infernals on the screen."

"Uh...yeah," Quen'die said in a slow state of shocked wonder. "They have dark wings." She still could not take her eyes off the pair that were sprouting from his back. It didn't matter to her at that moment if she thought that she sounded stupid or young. These odd body parts were still a bit beyond her comprehension.

"Yes, but another difference is in my intent," Mavriel added. "No elf needs to leave Earth. There is absolutely nothing wrong on Mars, and there is no Taurian homeworld waiting for you. These beings you just saw on the screen want to take you and your nanna back to their own dimension to live in eternal damnation. This 'rescue' of theirs' is their ruse."

"Okay," the maiden said in a still-flat tone as she tugged a lock of red hair with an absence of mind. "I believe you aren't just an elf, but what do you want _me_ to do about all this?"

"The Creator has chosen you and me to stop these Infernals from stealing your entire population away. Their plans must be halted, because once they have your people down there, they are forever hidden from the light of the Creator and there can be no rescue. You'll be stuck there for eternity."

Quen'die looked over at Nanna with plaintive eyes to which the old lady just smiled in honest confusion and shrugged her lean shoulders. "How can I stop this? Why me? Like I said before, I'm nothing really special. What if you're just one of them and you're lying to me? Gods! There are so many questions!"

"And the Creator knows you have the answer." Mavriel wandered over by the open picture window on the far wall and peeked out at the night. "Ui has His reasons for everything and they are always in His children's best interests. You were chosen by Him for a reason that even I am not allowed to know. You're special to me just because I am your deva, but you are special to Ui for reasons that are certain only to Him. He has chosen you, because He knows you will not fail this demanding trial. I suppose the best thing you can do is just be yourself and let me help you."

"I don't even know anything much about Ui," Quen'die plopped back down into one of Nanna's plush chairs. "I thought He just created stuff and went on His merry way."

Quen'die's doubts were shattered all of the sudden by red and blue flashing lights zipping past the fourth floor window. A civil warden on a flitcycle buzzed a warning through the streets over her P.A. Alongside her fluttered a dark winged form flying point. Mavriel shook his golden head as he was not surprised that the Infernals had made the move to dig themselves in with the government in such a short time. " _Citizens! It is now 8 p.m. Curfew is in effect in two hours. Please prepare to return to your homes_."

"He's much more involved than your people give Him credit, Quen'die. As for your other gods, they are not what you may have learned. They were immortals in their time, and not all necessarily like the rest of elfdom. I'll tell you all about that later. Well, the short story, anyway."

Mavriel smiled as he peered up into the darkness of the crisp night. Even from the shining innards of downtown, the stars in particular, were very bright that evening.
And Soon the World Will Love You

**T** he new living arrangements were already wearing on Venn'lith's nerves, as was pretty much everything else. Glynna's son was the most obnoxious little orc that she had ever met, especially how he would follow her around everywhere she went like a chubby little puppy. It was quite obvious by the way he would gawk at her form that he was utterly infatuated and this she expected, but if she ever caught him sneaking into her room, the maiden vowed to sic Blanca on him. As if the gods were blessing her, the little elf would retreat to the basement, for the most part, to play video games on their big crystal manaball screen.

Her new soon-to-be stepmother was all right, as she was a bit aloof and paid most of her attentions to her father and her son. As far as Venn'lith was concerned, she couldn't be happier, except for neither of them being there in the first place. Venn'lith figured it most ironic if the two somehow managed to grow on her. That is, until Father decided to do away with them.

Djaenn (just "Djaenn") was teasing the rich, black hair of the Xochian maiden with frenetic glee that Midweek afternoon which would change Venn'lith's life. Even though it might be quite the risk, Djaenn felt compelled to carve blunted bangs across Venn'lith's forehead in the fashion of High President Glasya. Why the hairdresser had never thought to do that with her star subject before boggled her mind. When the screen first cast its mirrors to the alien arrival, her dread and terror was replaced in a flashing instant with loving envy upon seeing Glasya's delicious hairdo.

"Djaenn demands that she give her sweet Lith bangs, so get ready for a new you," the Thuless'in import, as per usual, referred to herself in the third person.

Venn'lith winced as she heard the styling shears flurry with bladed rasp. "Gods! Djaenn! You aren't actually going to cut my bangs! But why?" This notion was sending icicles of fashionable fear up the length of her spine. Her hair was one of her many perceived personal strengths, and the concept of losing so many actual inches of it was akin to having open-heart surgery sans anesthetic. It was clear that the maiden was feeling violated.

"Wait!" Venn'lith cried before her personal hairdresser could begin the operation. "Maybe we can make a compromise." The elfmaid considered Djaenn in all actuality, the only living person to hold any real power over her. She knew very well that the stylist held the key to her success, and that key was her beauty. Most of all, she trusted her judgment, as the frost elf was world-renown for working the coifs of royalty, actresses and supermodels. In some ways, the Xochian pondered, it was rather enjoyable to not always be the one in control.

"One does not compromise with beauty, especially hair," Djaenn lectured. "The minute I saw Glasya's mane, I immediately thought of you and practically kidnapped you just so I could have this luscious moment." Djaenn flashed a maniacal glare at her victim in the giant illuminated mirror before them. "Be prepared, maiden, for Djaenn is about to go on a fashion rampage!"

Teenage eyes lit with shock at the life-altering experience she was about to have. "Stop the limmer!" she yelped. "Look, I love the High President's hair too but, seriously, _everyone_ is sporting it now. Did you see Quay'liss Dalian last night? That one wasted no time. Sure, it's blue instead of brass, but still. I just called Agrat Ma'lott today, and even _she_ is getting the bangs. I mean, Djaenn, what if I look like a poseur?"

"The Djaenn does not pose!" the stylist to the stars gasped. "If I must confess, then I will. Our little secret though. All these other fools are emulating Glasya directly by curling their manes down. Yes, you too will have bangs, but we are going up, and I mean _way_ up! Why do you think I have that silk scarf on the rack over there?"

So many thoughts hurried through Venn'lith's mind. Her most precious quality of vanity was about to be assaulted by the best. Time was wasting, however, and there was still much to be done for tonight. "Okay!" she squeaked. "Just do it!"

What seemed like hours passed. The distressed, yet fully excited maiden, requested that she wear a blindfold for the operation as she knew she would be apt to arrest Djaenn with every snip. Venn'lith trusted Djaenn with total assurance, but the sounds of fashion forging about her long ears were making her unable to keep from cringing. After a long and grueling wait, it was the time for the silk mask to come off.

It was awesome, and there was no other word for it. As usual, Venn'lith thought she looked like the sun goddess, but this style was never cataloged in the annals of her imagination. Yes, Djaenn gave her the bluntest of bangs, but the rest of her hair stood almost two feet in the air in a flared cylinder of perfect form. The severity of it accentuated her delicate eyebrow sculpting while streaming curls dripped out of the top of the cone. Djaenn even sprayed real gold banding across the breadth of its blackness.

"There," the Thuless'in announced. "The Djaenn has finished! As I have said, I do not pose."

Venn'lith could not take her eyes off herself and, for the first time that week, she could feel a stir of gratitude in her heart. It was certain, Agrat Ma'lott would have nothing more than a carbon copy of Glasya's hair, but that maiden had no real mind of her own. Neither did her other crony Isheth. The sun elf surmised that one too would have an identical look going tonight and such predictability of people annoyed her.

Glynna Reyliss entered the dressing room and took a look at Centeo's daughter. There was no doubt that he had sired a fine maiden, but a part of her felt homesick for her Quen'die. For a brief instant, she saw her own daughter marveling at herself in that chair instead, but life did not allow for that. Glynna pushed that maudlin vision out of her mind as it would reduce her to tears if she dwelled on it for too long.

"You look amazing, Venn'lith," Lady Reyliss commented.

"Thank you, Glynna," the sun elf could not tear her gaze away from the mirror. Last week, Venn'lith and Glynna had agreed to just refer to each other by their first names. Considering that her father's taste in a mate was rather transient, the Xochian figured such an informal arrangement was for the best.

Tonight was special for the Mitlans. They were to be present at the inner royal circle for the High King's address in conjunction with the Aldebarans. Venn'lith had been subject to these kinds of happenings at least twice a month over the course of her whole life, but never before was such a presentation in the company of alien life forms. Everyone was tense and Glynna was not used to being in the exclusive luxury of the royals. Not just as a subject, but more or less as an equal. Over the years, she had studied the etiquette and manners when interacting with these high families and she wasn't afraid of making a gaffe, but such travesties as another assassination attempt crossed her mind. Already in the newsscrolls, voices of dissent were posted in the forums as many of Corosa's population were a bit xenophobic and did not trust their otherworldly guests.

The time had come for Lady Reyliss to take Djaenn's chair and she wasn't quite as touchy about her appearance as Venn'lith. The hairdresser was a celebrity in her own right and the lady knew that she would enjoy whatever the fashion warden would deem appropriate. Her nerves dwelled on making the right impression with Centeo. Males had never before seemed as imposing as this one and so much rested in her mind that everything needed to go well. Perhaps it was the raw power that coursed through him and not just his worldly accolades.

In an odd way, thoughts and even feelings of her old family, which she had just left two days ago, were stuffed far in the back of Glynna's mind. Last night, she dreaded how she would react when, once and for all, the wellspring of emotions and memories of them broke through like a watershed. That day was inevitable, she thought, but today wasn't it. Now that Ferd'inn was no longer amongst the ranks of the better gentry, she knew that she would run no risk of bumping into him at tonight's address. He would not be able to afford the admission to the inner circle and it was as simple as that.

***

As always, Venn'lith found her father in one of their spacious lounge rooms prattling away on his phone. It more than likely had something or other to do with the stock market, although she could have cared less. She waited with patience for him to cease his frantic badgering over whatever nameless commodity he was rambling about and then she could strike for his attention.

After some time, the financial mogul turned his ears toward his daughter. "Hello Venn'lith," he intoned without looking at her. His eyes were still studying the finance scrolls running across one of the lounge's wallscreens.

Already, his ignorance of her amazing new hair flustered her, but she would wait with bated breath for him to notice Djaenn's wonderful work. At the end of the day, she knew that she had her father in the palm of her finest of manicured hands.

"That is perfect for tonight!" Lord Mitlan exclaimed after some time. "Djaenn always does such an amazing job. I can truly say that your beauty preempts even that of High President Glasya." His daughter could tell by his dramatic pause that he was indeed taken aback by her presence.

"Aren't I always perfect, _Papi_?" Venn'lith half-joked.

"Yes, of course, what I mean is for tonight's festivity," he remarked with all seriousness. "This address is extremely important as it marks a compact with our kingdom and another world. All over the globe the kings and queens of the nations are meeting with these, these 'celestials' for our relocation plans. As a matter-of-fact, I was just on the phone with one of them."

"Seriously?" she was, in all honesty, intrigued. "Which one?"

"His name is Stolas. He is an Aldebaran prince, so you would address him as 'Prince Stolas' or 'Your Highness.'" For an instant, Mitlan checked the screen of his glowing phone. "He will be arriving shortly to our home as we will personally chaperone him tonight to the address, so please, mind your temper."

"Of course, _Papi_ ," Venn'lith rolled her eyes at his suggestion of another one of her outbursts.

"Not only will we chaperone this great prince, but I have arranged a companion for you tonight." Mitlan turned away for a moment from his daughter's dark glare as he knew it was possible that such an impromptu arrangement could flare a tantrum out of the maiden.

"What? I am to go on a date? Tonight?" Centeo could already hear his daughter's teeth grind from the frustration of the event's immediacy. "No! Who is this guy?"

"He is one of theirs," Lord Mitlan said with blunt authority, "An Aldebaran." He hoped that he would not have to defuse a scene with the maiden, but she was well known for her will.

"Father!" her eyes lit up like a manaspring. "You have set me up on a date with an _alien_? That's disgusting!"

"It has all been arranged, _Mija_ ," he waved his hand as if to declare the final word. "It is only for tonight, and I expect you to be on your most ladylike behavior. Do not let me catch you in any of your devious schemes with this lad. Our world is already embroiled in an interplanetary incident and I don't need you to spark off another one. These people are Earth's last shot, ergo, the date is final."

"Wonderful," Venn'lith shot boiled sarcasm at her father. "Perhaps when we go to our next gala, you can set me up with a wild sabercat! You do realize this is being broadcast on the screen? I'll be the laughingstock of Atlantis! This is even worse than what Quen'die and those Gonduanna Princes did to me!"

"And, as you remember, I took care of all of that. Quite the contrary," the elder raised a suggestive brow. "Your escort tonight is quite the handsome one I am told. His name is Cadreth and he is Prince Stolas' personal vizier. Why, the lad is even about your age, I believe."

"Why me?" the maiden threw out her arms in confusion. "Why can I not be accompanied by an _elven_ royal tonight? Or even just go alone?"

"Lith, this is a very important merger between our peoples," Mitlan was already growing weary of her presence, but it was imperative that she behave tonight. "Just swallow your pride and flash your most professional of smiles when the mirrors hit you for a close-up. And they surely will!"

"I hate this," she beamed her father a murderous stare. He was used to such glares from her over the years, and he knew well that they signified a bout of spoiled fits that could sometimes last for hours.

"Oh, but you won't, my _Mija_ ," he braced himself to drop even more terrible news to her perfectly-pointed ears. He hoped the expected tantrum wouldn't include her breaking something. They were in his favorite lounge and the last thing he wanted was for her to smash the priceless, crystal egg ensconced on the lounge's mantle. "This Cadreth is to be your tutor to Aldebaran culture. Included in this merger, will be a glorious new job for you."

"A job!" she screamed upon reflex. Demons of woe crawled from her heart and up her nerve stem as she couldn't contain her rage. Her thick chest was huffing in an effort to secure the maelstrom of anger for which she was famous and her father had to think quicker than ever in order to prevent it. "I am _not_ working!"

"Calm down, _Mija_ ," the giant Xochian backed away from his little poppet of anger. "It isn't mopping a floor or anything like that. As you probably know, my channels have been in contact with our new guests for quite some time now, and they have been observing our whole family. This entourage tonight is not merely to talk shop with the Aldebarans, but to prime you for your rather lofty position."

"And what lofty position is this, _Papi_?" she emitted a slow growl through squeaking clenched teeth.

Lord Mitlan was well-versed in political speaking from his years of financial haggling and his style of communication did not encompass debate. Unlike most of the ranks of dull elfling-kissers, Mitlan ordered, and never negotiated. "As you know, this world is no longer our home. It will be gone to us and there is nothing I can do about it. There are many preparations to make and we have a very short time to make those preparations. Atlantis hosts millions of elves and their children. The Aldebarans have chosen you out of those millions of young ladies for the office of the Prime Warden of the Atlantean Youth Parliament. We must work quickly, as you will be appointed to this position starting tomorrow."

Venn'lith liked the sound of her title, but not the name of the office. The young Xochian could see with ease through the euphemisms and pomp of any "hot job" and knew underneath it all, a job was a job and she was much too beautiful to work. "You mean you want me to be a _babysitter_! How dare you, _Papi_!" Her palm was positioned to slap her father across his brawny face in defiance, but the burning coals of anger mutated into welling sobs of humiliation. The ramifications of this interplanetary exodus were at last beginning to hit her soul and she knew from that moment on, her life would never be the same.

"My sweet _Mija_! No!" he rushed to soothe her as was his duty since the day her mother died. Whenever her tears were involved, he could not bear audience to them. "You will be a leader! This is great power and responsibility! Look, this is just a preamble to much greater things for you when we reach our new home. If I can give you a hint, I have even been discussing with the Aldebarans about calling the planet 'Mitlan.'"

Her tears were arrested by the shock of the innuendo. It all made lightning sense to her golden ego at that moment. Today a Prime Warden, tomorrow a queen. She was thankful that she had not yet applied her makeup as her budding tears would have wrecked her face which was forming a slow, proud grin. "Very well, Father, but I get to design their uniforms. And I'm not wearing one!"

"Certainly, Lith," his smile matched hers. "Now that this is settled, we really need to finish taking care of business before our colleagues arrive. Please try to rush the process as we cannot be too fashionably late."

In her personal quarters, Ping fitted the Xochian into her nearly-translucent gown with utmost care. Woven with expert craftsmanship throughout the crimson, wafer-thin silk were jewels of sapphire and amber which were concentrated in strategic clusters for modesty. Venn'lith was still chewing on her future position as the High Queen of Mitlan. To be honest, she liked the title "Empress Venn'lith" better, but it made her sound so old. Nevertheless, being in lifted spirits, the maiden felt no normal compulsions to abuse her sea elf steward.

"Oh, Ping, do the sapphires and the red fabric make me look too purple?" Venn'lith was trying to gauge whether the dress would make her appear like a fool. In the back of her mind, she was feeling the urge to impress this coterie of aliens. Perhaps this Cadreth would even one day be her king. That was fine, as long as she had made sure to make all the decisions. The last thing she needed was a mate like her father who was rather brusque with everybody.

"You look wonderful, Maiden Venn'lith," she answered, as was her duty. Ping had to admit, she did look quite the sight and her canned answer held much truth to it.

"Excellent," the sun elf confirmed. "I will need you to apply my face tonight as this is not a mere soiree. I have already had Djaenn do my nails and I cannot sully them with goop. Do your best, for I am forced to be escorted by one of those stupid aliens."

***

The sun was shining its ruddy afternoon glow outside and the time was almost at hand for her grand presentation. Venn'lith chewed on the idea that she would soon meet an unearthly lifeform from another system and, for some reason, this notion didn't faze her. In truth, the only difference between them and any run-of-the-mill elf were those moth-like wings and that some of them were a bit taller. This Cadreth was certain to be easy on the eyes, she surmised, as every one of the Aldebarans that she had glimpsed on the screen was, without any doubt, beautiful. Considering this, she wrapped the large red cape over her shoulders and set off.

After their home announced the arrival of the visitors in majestic grandeur, the elfmaid ran into Kaedish and his mother in another one of their upper lounges. As Venn'lith expected, the young lad was fidgety and his mother was trying to get him to maintain a presentable behavior.

"Wow, Lith! You look great!" Glynna's son remarked with a welcoming chirp. His eyes were scanning her fine figure, unable to help himself as he was approaching that age where the female form was a budding interest. Venn'lith supposed that she was quite the prime specimen of such a shape and, for that, she could forgive Kaedish.

As her mood was lifting all for the better, the elfmaid decided to humor the young lad as she smiled. "Thank you, Kaedish, you too are looking...well."

His mother made a wan grimace to Venn'lith's veiled slam and tucked her son behind her. Ever since first meeting the maiden, Glynna couldn't put her fine finger on why this teen bothered her. Was there some truth to what Quen'die had said in her defense the other day? It was hard to discern, as she was so angry at her daughter during her rebuttal to the accusations that she was not listening to them and forgot half of what was said, in all honesty. Deep inside, Glynna admitted that she was feeling a pang of regret for that terrible Moonday. Then again, she knew that she was also directly involved with the abduction and murder of a teenage maiden and that she would sooner or later come to her senses about her own behavior and goals.

"Eh, Lith," Lady Reyliss stammered. "I am going to head down to meet our guests. Will you walk down with us?"

"No, Glynna," she answered. "I have a thing to attend to before I manage that. Feel free to go on ahead of me."

Ever since moving to this mansion, Venn'lith loved to meditate in a special upstairs alcove. It was so calm there and the thin vaulted window allowed for the spring breeze to soothe her nerves. Already the sun was dimming to blood red and she knew that everything that was to happen would prove to be the most perfect that night. For a moment, she closed her heavily-decorated eyelids and soaked in the sounds of the imported wildlife from their grotto below. Thoughts of the aliens, the exodus, and even her new position fled her mind as it was left holding nothing more than the immediate sensations around her. With the strongest of inhales, the scents of the wonderful day nursed her dirty soul and she knew that she was ready for the night.

With much ceremony, Venn'lith descended the swirling main staircase into their home's giant foyer. Her entire household was present as was the throng of newcomers across from them. The Aldebarans were surrounded by the official blue robes of the Royal Guard for diplomatic escort. This was quite the visit, she guessed.

"Here she is, Prince Stolas, my lovely daughter Venn'lith!" her father announced with bursting pride. The maiden held her nose higher upon hearing this declaration. It was time to assume her new role as a soon-to-be royal.

"Good evening," she oozed the words out of her lips which Ping had designed with nary a flaw. She was not concentrating on any one form of this entourage, as they were nothing but the abstracted shapes of garish tall people amongst the national blue robes.

He was tall. Very tall, but not at all near the size of a natha. He appeared about the same age as her father, but yet at the same time, it was difficult to guess in exactness his years. There was something about his eyes that seemed almost ancient. Prince Stolas received the elfmaid's hand and kissed it with a sense of graceful ritual. "I am very pleased to meet you, Maiden Venn'lith."

"Prince Stolas, I presume," she inquired with her thickest Xochian accent.

"I am," he answered with a bold affirmation. "We have been very anxious to finally meet you in the flesh and I must say that the reality outweighs the notion."

To that, Venn'lith plastered an engineered smile to her face. Outweighed, she cringed? Was he trying to call her fat? Now was not the time to react with uncertainty or resentment. If she had ever gained wisdom of any desultory designs from him, she would be sure to have her revenge, just as she did with that twerp Quen'die and the foul Gonduanna Princes. "Charming," she intoned in a wry manner.

The Aldebaran guests were a collection of beings dressed in some of the most wonderful clothing that she had ever laid her eyes on. She hoped the Hegemony would trade these amazing goods on her new world, because some of the ladies in their attendance were adorned in the finest blood-red and dead-black ball gowns that she could never have, in truth, imagined. What were these materials? Were they hewn from animal hides and plant fibers not known of this earth? Some of the fabrics seemed to contain a swirling inner glow as if charged with mana, but were much more natural than those tawdry animated designs made on Earth. At that moment she could not wait to go shopping on another planet.

"Maiden Venn'lith," Stolas broke her fashionista's daydream. "May I please introduce to you your companion for tonight?"

Stepping out from the tall pillars of blue robes and lavish, otherworldly couture on cue, the raven-haired lad smiled upon seeing the maiden. He was almost as tall as Prince Stolas, and as he approached Venn'lith, she straightened her body by reflex as if to inform the male that she was to hold the upper hand that night. Her posturing didn't matter, as against her 5'10", almost eight feet was quite a task to match. Regardless, she was impressed in all honesty, as he would make for a wonderful playmate.

His tunic was the same hue of red as worn by the others of his company, and paisley-like designs swirled and swam throughout the fabric as if they were some chaotic, abstract cartoon. Upon closer inspection, Venn'lith wondered if his clothes were not just animated, but indeed alive. The high-collared, black summer cloak draping over his broad shoulders housed the same roiling textures. His pale blue eyes bore into her defensive demeanor while she feasted back at his natural beauty as well as his amazing outfit.

"Good evening, Maiden Venn'lith," he said with a gentle tone as he took her hand to kiss it. "My name is Cadreth."
Undercover Angel

**S** leep. Such a terrible waste of time, Lucifer thought as he waited for his host to finish her bout of it. He wondered how the elven species ever got anything done as they remained in a twilit stasis for six hours every day. Minn'dre's period of rest was, in particular, long this night due to her body adjusting to the dark lord's infiltration, but if all went as planned, she would grow accustomed to it. There was so much blood, as she didn't take to the infernal process very well, but she did manage to survive it. At least this body was better than a stupid farm animal, but not quite as hilarious.

"Wake up, Lazy Legs. Time to eat your ostrich eggs!" sang the voice in the back of Minn'dre's conscious. Soon the little rhyme was followed with a sharp slap to the face.

"Huh?" She opened her eyes yet could not quite recognize her whereabouts. "What the..."

It was morning and the streaks of sunlight bled through the curtain in soft rays. It would most likely rain later that day. Staring straight ahead, the elfmaid jumped to full wakefulness to see that a strange lady was all but straddling her feet at the end of her bed. At that moment she wished she really did own a caster. The lady was so unearthly and dark, like smoked brass mixed with copper.

"Who are you?" the maiden could not muster the strength to yell from the confusion of the awakening and raw fear. Her throat was filled with morning frogs. "What are you doing?"

"Let me guess," the lady began. "Next you want to know what I want, yes?"

"I want you out of here," Minn'dre could think of no other response. This had to be one of those embedded nightmares. Her mind was ruffling through its dulled memory banks to recollect why everything had been so terrible as of late. She knew something was wrong, but could not quite remember why.

"Well, kiddo, that's not in the plan for today," the lady smiled with a simmering hint of anger beneath it. "We're going on a trip because my boss says we have to, and when my boss says we have to, he means it. Dig?"

"No," the maiden croaked, half in a dream. "I got fired."

"Not _your_ boss, Silly!" the lanky shadow argued. " _Mine_! He says that I need to look out for you until we get off this rock and that's exactly what I'm going to do, so deal with it. Now, if you'll excuse my cattiness, I've just come back from a _very_ long trip and had to do some rather unpleasant things there, so try to be copacetic, okay?"

Minn'dre's mind at last made recognition of this rude awakening. "Hey! Aren't you with the Black Hood? You mean to say you just spoke with _Travius_?" It was all coming back to her in a flurry. "Hey! lady, you hit me last week and put me in the hospital!"

Sammian wet her pinky finger and slicked one of her fine brows with it. "Guilty as charged, and if you don't want a repeat performance of that, you're going to get up, get out of your frillies and start a brand new day!"

"I'm not going anywhere with you, you fiend! You tried to kill the king and then you beat the tar out of me! To the Nine Hells with you and Travius!" the maiden growled in defiance as she jumped to the head of the bed on her haunches. Her signature long blond bang fell over half of her face and hid one of her eyes which could not contain its fright.

The rogue angelic was not in the mood for the elfmaid's lack of obedience. It was true she had held some reservations, and even a pang of guilt for slaughtering forty elves on Mars. For the cold flight back to Earth, she reflected on her duties and came to the deep conclusion that Ui would never forgive that transgression. As far as Sammian had considered it, her fate was sealed and she had better make the best of her new role. It was so odd, she thought, when she was in the throes of killing them, she didn't seem to care, but regret continued to creep into her mind as she had so much time to meditate on the matter while making the long freezing return.

Her tough body lunged down the length of the bed and clawed Minn'dre's neck in one movement. The maiden felt like she was going to suffocate at that very instant. Sammian was strong, very strong, and it was now no surprise to Minn'dre why the fiend's assault from last week had put her out for so long. Her menacing breath smelled like sweet flowers as she was but an inch from her face. "Exactly. You are coming with me and you are going to get up _now_!"

Lucifer crawled his way from the back of the maiden's nervous system and up to her brain. If he delayed his revelation to his new employee any longer, she was indeed liable to kill off his host. The infernal emperor flooded the elfmaid's body as she cracked her back and rolled her eyes into her skull to adjust to the possession process.

"What are you doing?" Sammian loosened her grip in shocked response. If she ever killed one of Lucifer's subjects, even by accident, she could expect her new master's wrath to be as extreme and as unforgiving as Ui's. Thus far, she had performed his requests to the fine detail, but any infernal knew that the "Morning Star" was never to be crossed and failure was not tolerated, well, unless you had carte blanche like Glasya. "Minnie? Are you okay? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to push so hard. Eh...please don't die!"

When Minn'dre began to chuckle, Sammian's intolerance resurfaced and she wanted to punch the elfmaid's face in with her full strength. Such a strike, of course, would have also gone through the bedroom's stucco wall bringing her back to her original dilemma.

"Sammian, it's me," Lucifer said as he was still smiling with Minn'dre's mouth.

The angelic peered with care, deep into the maiden's eyes. There was now an unearthly light roiling through them and seeing this took Sammian aback some. What had just happened with this maiden, she wondered?

"Who's me?" Sammian asked, a bit chilled.

"I am Lucifer now, Sammian," the maiden divulged with a calm purr. "Can you not see me in her eyes?"

The lady launched herself aback; in one part through fear and the other from respect. In a fleeting instant, she worried that she was going to be reprimanded by the boss for her heavy-handedness.

Although she meant no insubordination or doubt, Lucifer was crafty as all the infernals were known to be, a quick double check was almost mandatory. After all, this could be some sort of hazing ritual concocted by her new brethren to test her mettle and trust. Perhaps it was Asmodeus or Mammon or any of her old crew from before the Rebellion who would be more than happy to play a welcome-back joke on her. It would be characteristic of Vinea to pull such a prank as she had always been involved in some sort of droll nonsense, even before the Fall.

"Sammian, please remain calm. I assure you it is me," he intoned in his gentle way. "You do remember when I ordered you to carve the mark on our dearest Minn'dre?"

"Uh, yes," she blurted. Many others of the hells could have indeed known about this mark by now, but Sammian was under the impression that such a happening was to be kept a secret between her and Lucifer. "I do."

"That sigil is not merely a calling card or a tracking instrument. It is a portal which will allow me entrance into our most gracious host." Lucifer lifted Minn'dre's body up from the bed and grabbed a summer gown from the pine wardrobe while moving in a confident, almost regal manner that contrasted to his host's usual, mortal gait. "Does this make sense?"

"Yes, Lucifer. I was aware of such things as spontaneous possession, but I didn't know exactly how it worked." Sammian followed her master's movements, a bit befuddled. "There was always a spell for it, but I thought you needed to be in a summoning circle to perform it. Like I did with the lamb."

"That is not always necessary," he said as Minn'dre's head was, for the moment, stuck in the openings of the flimsy gown. "I found a new port of entry into a body. Before that unfortunate lamb last week, such a process had never been tried. Admittedly, I was a bit apprehensive with doing it myself. I suppose you could say that our little blond friend was the first possessed mortal being."

"Hmmm," Sammian chewed on the information. "It does seem like it could come in handy. I wish I had used this ability during my tour as an erelim. I could have really pulled the wool over some of my interrogation subjects with that!"

"In theory that sounds like an excellent ploy," Lucifer complimented his ward. "But unfortunately, this spell does not work on us. I do like the way you think, regardless. Perhaps we could make you an erinyes when you return my home. I am always in need of disciplined internal security as you can probably imagine."

What an amazing office to hold, thought Sammian. The suggestion set her face alight with pride as the master confirmed that she was doing an excellent job. To gain his approval, and at last, his true love, was tantamount to her. "Oh, yes! Absolutely. I'm your lady."

Lucifer looked around the room with the maiden's eyes and peered at her bedroom door. "Who is in the home right now, Sammian? I believe I can hear rustling beyond the door."

"Eh, I believe Minn'dre's mother is up and about in the front room, Lucifer," the angelic shrugged her shoulders as it was only a guess. "I know the father is away on business in the north of Atlantis or something. With that martial law, travel is highly restricted and he shouldn't be back any time soon."

"Very well," he began. "Apparently you have divulged yourself to be in compact with the Black Hood as I have seen in a newsscroll dated last week."

The dark lady locked up a bit at that. It was rumored that Lucifer's wrath could come after terrific calm and such violent outbursts were unpredictable. Was this how he prepared himself for punishment, she wondered?

"This is fine," he assured as he gazed out at the wan morning sun through Minn'dre's little window. "I'll inform Glasya with a message to cover for you as an infiltrator or spy who had attempted to thwart the assassination. We can even say that you were at the arena and knocked the caster out of that crazy old coot's hand. How does that sound to you?"

Sammian rolled her eyes and grinned at that. "Espionage has always been my forte, master, but now I get to be a hero? Kind of funny, but yes, I like it."

"Wonderful," he continued to stare out at the wooded backyard. The beauty of Earth's nature was so pleasant to the eyes, and Lucifer reminded himself to create a facsimile of it when he got back to the Inferno. His jealousy of the mere notion of this creation made him hate it just as much as he lusted for it. "I need your empathic skills when we meet Mother. I unfortunately only have the powers of my host in this form and I cannot do anything beyond Minn'dre's natural abilities. Certainly, I can read minds and simple things like that but, for the most part, I am still a weak and fragile fishie"

"Certainly, my lord." Sammian bowed her head. "What will you have me do?"

"You will plant a suggestion in her mind that her daughter is at work. You will also remind her that you are a special guest in this home. At first, she will be shocked to see you, but you must grab control of her quickly before she makes a scene."

Minn'dre looked so different under the control of her master and somehow her natural beauty was amplified by his consciousness. Sammian knew at that moment that she loved her master no matter his form. His pure power and mind were the focus of her heart, and she decided that she would kill ten score more of the elves for him if he so desired. So many good things were on their way for the both of them as this love was more selfless than Ui could ever have from her.

"Yes, of course," Sammian smiled like the devil she hoped to be and Lucifer could feel it from behind his back through pure intuition.

"Be gentle, Sammian," Lucifer warned. "For I don't need any murderous drama connected to this home and ultimately, to our forces out there. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she bowed once again. "I will remain in control. Promise."

"Excellent." He turned the maiden's body around to face Sammian. "You will also promise not to let any of the others in our ranks know that this maiden is inhabited by me. Think of me as a silent observer. As an erelim, you had to practice much furtivity. This will be no different."

The door leading to Minn'dre's mother's hypnosis was beckoning and the infernal lord was growing anxious to begin his plans for the new day. "I am most pleased to see how fine you look this morning after such a long trip, my dearest Sammian."

"Thank you, my lord." Such sentiments thrilled Sammian as she could feel her coppery skin blush and she couldn't stifle a tiny giggle. Her nerves fired warm tingles as not only relief settled in her, but pride and the warmth of her love's acceptance. "Why do you say this?"

Lucifer turned to the now-clean mirror to check Minn'dre's look. "We will need to be at our best appearance for today because we will be going before a live studio audience."
For All the Doomed Children of this World

**S** o the flow began...

### Atlantis Youth Parliament

"Last night our Princess Regent had to make some difficult decisions and deliver some rather frightening news. We are all in this exodus to our new world together and nobody gets left behind.

"My father, Centeo Mitlan, has been working diligently with Circles of Finance from all over the world for decades to make sure that our economy flows efficiently. With our grand move to the Taurus system, he won't be able to merely kick back and enjoy the ride.

" Neither will you. I am speaking specifically to all the children of this great kingdom. We are the future, as we are the first generation on this exciting new planet to thrive there. It is we who will take the reins as the first wardens, the first explorers, the first architects and builders. Yes, we'll even be the first celebrities there. Generations upon generations from now, our descendants may even pray to our names as gods.

"Before any of this can begin, we must get there and before we get there we must prepare. We must say a heartfelt goodbye to this planet Earth and that will take some work on all our parts. This is why my family, in conjunction with our government and the Aldebaran representatives, has developed the Atlantean Youth Parliament.

"To be quite honest, we know that we are essentially racing against the clock. On a brave day coming up this Tenthmoon, we will all be aboard these arks to our salvation and destiny. That isn't much time when you think about it. Such a tight schedule requires order and structure and the Atlantis Youth Parliament will see to that. Our lives depend on it.

"Beginning this Moonday, this great movement will be taking applications for officers, pioneers and volunteers. All sorts of wonderful positions are available to each and any one of your possible skill sets. If you've ever been called 'worthless' or a 'loser' at home or at school, you will learn that even the likes of you are indispensable when it comes to joining this effort. You will realize the value of your innate talents as you prepare this world for a grand journey to an entirely new realm.

"Visit your local recruitment center posted in your mail which will inform you of where you can sign up! Aptitude tests will determine where your skills are most needed and you will be given your assignment. Each and every one of these tasks is vital whether it be in an upper management position or custodial duty.

"You must remember, and I say this with all sincerity, that nobody will get left behind. I am your Prime Warden Venn'lith Mitlan, and I invite each and every one of you, with love."

***

" _Ping!_ Tangerine mocha _! Now!_ "

"Yes, Maiden Venn'lith. As you command," the sea elf bowed away toward the studio's canteen to satisfy her demand.

"Gods, I look like a plowshare with these!" the Xochian maiden lamented as she poked at the three black mega-plaits poking out of the crown of her head. The folksy laurel wreath wrapped around her temples irritated her skin and she threw it clear across the soundstage without care of where it landed. "What was that made of? Poison ivy?"

Cadreth offered his long hand to escort her away from the lights of the stage. "I thought you looked wonderful! So natural. You seriously had nothing to worry about. I was watching the whole thing through the monitors and, I must say, you will have the kids flocking to those centers."

"Really?" she felt a pang of unwelcome regret asking for this lad's approval as she had always considered that she held the upper hand with the males. "Well, I'll just have to see that for myself," she saved with a brusque sneer.

"You won't be disappointed, I assure you," he beamed a smile that she found somewhat endearing. It was a feeling that she could say was, in truth, a rarity for her.

To have such warm sentiments for a lad, or anyone for that matter, was a terrible combination which made for a toasty unknown. It all made her feel uncomfortable and weak as such a dependency made one vulnerable to all varieties of treachery. She had seen what caring for someone in any capacity could do, and she had used that care against many other maidens at school in her time. Whenever she had swooped-in under a rival's lulled scanners and played her loved one against her, the pain of her victim was immense and her sociability was never left unscathed. The Xochian supposed that if she allowed herself to get closer to this lad, she would run the risk of experiencing that loss for herself. From what she had observed of others in her sixteen years, the aftershock of that pain was quite terrible, or so it seemed.

It was all just an adolescent infatuation, she figured. Never before had Venn'lith laid eyes on such a beautiful creature. If Hyrax Arcovis was considered a weak '10' at school, then Cadreth was at least a '21.' In the short two days she had known his acquaintance, maidens all around her were turning their heads and drooling like dire wolves upon seeing her towering escort. They didn't even bother with the playful giggling or snickering as they were all too entranced by his commanding presence. Even little elflings were transfixed on his form as they realized their first crush. Perhaps it was all quite natural and she should just accept it. He was the ultimate specimen of beauty and a maiden such as her deserved him.

"Thank you, Cadreth," she relented without realizing it. She turned her head to one of the long studio mirrors banking a back wall and saw that she was still grinning. A cheesy grin to be exact and she grit her teeth in self-loathing the very instant she caught herself.

"You really did look amazing on the screen, Lith. I may call you 'Lith?" Quay'liss Dalian interrupted the couple. The lady was donning the exact same hairdo (different color) Venn'lith had worn to last night's royal address and this daring attempt to pose made her blood boil.

Ever since moving to Atlantis, Venn'lith prayed she would never have to meet that lady in person. She had deemed her an annoying sycophant even back when she could barely understand the Atlantean tongue. To be forced to deal with her presence in the flesh was excruciating, but it was made all the worse while she was waiting for her coffee.

"No," Venn'lith answered her point-blank. She tilted her nose in the air with artful grace. The newsie appeared to wear a genuine veil of disappointment, as if she didn't know how to respond to that unexpected answer.

"Well, Prime Warden, you did it!" Prince Stolas pushed the befuddled Dalian aside, much to Venn'lith's blessing. "Your father and I saw it all backstage. I do think we have a winner."

The Aldebarans were quite an interesting sort. Not only did they don impeccable fashion that was all but uncraftable on the planet Earth, they held themselves with a grace and style that not even Venn'lith's father's entourage could match. Of course, she surmised, that these beings she was meeting were the elite; the crème de la crème of their system. Since these representatives were the impressive example of their civilization, the maiden guessed that even their toilet cleaners were preferable to some of Earth's "best." The more she knew these people, the more she wished she were moving to their home planet instead of this new one. After all, new scenery was no big shakes if she had to be surrounded by the same bleating idiots as always.

Prince Stolas was like a wise old owl in the shape of a winged elf. Venn'lith thought of him as a wonderful warm character who had stepped right out of an ancient faerie tale. He represented to her the archetype of the sage who assisted the featured maiden or the hero with arcane knowledge that aided them in defeating the ferocious dragon or the evil king, thus saving the nation from tyranny.

High President Glasya was so much fun. When Venn'lith was younger, she went through a phase where she had wished for an older sister. If anyone could fill that role, it was her. Her clothes were the best. All wiry and spindly, yet roiling with animated blacks and reds. She didn't wear much either, as the revealing look was more her forte, but less could prove to be more. Under usual circumstances, the maiden argued with herself that she would be jealous of such a person, but Glasya had such an elegant and confident way of containing her poise, that Venn'lith found herself, in all honesty, looking up to her. It was no surprise that such a one as her would be leading this valiant effort. All she really wanted to do was lay out on the blinding beaches of Xo'chi with this lady and attempt to get her amazing tan.

Although she had what was certain to be the best hairdo of the bunch, Venn'lith felt a bit nervous around Glasya's brooding majordomo; the one who was known as Bastet or something like that. For a moment the night before, the Xochian met this lady's eyes and got one of the coldest chills she had ever experienced and she was not accustomed to avoiding a gaze from anyone. The only word for this sensation she felt was "murderous." This Bastet had, at one point in her existence, killed, and she was sure of it. Every now and then when her father would get heated over some trite issue, which was almost always about money, the maiden had seen a tiny glimpse of the same look, but with Bastet, it was relentless. That one was dangerous to the core somehow and Venn'lith was grateful that Glasya held her in check.

Two new members of the Aldebaran contingent arrived to the studio not long after Glasya and her company. Neither was present at the royal address last night and Venn'lith had yet to be introduced. One of the pair was definitely an Aldebaran as could be seen by her brown, solid wings. She had kinky short hair, much of the same coppery hue of her president, but her dress was not of the same glamour and alien materials as her kin. She appeared to have thrown on whatever was available to her that morning and it was unmistakable in its earthbound fashion. The other lady speaking to her in hushed tones had no wings and was most likely a run-of-the-mill elfmaid. Her blond hair was cut in an unfashionable bob and her clothes were quite unbecoming. There was something nagging about that one, Venn'lith thought as she could have sworn that she had met her somewhere before.

"Thank you, Prince Stolas. I must be honest, I think the agrarian look to my hair was a bit much, don't you think?" Venn'lith was already dropping the ropey buns off her head as full streams of her black hair tussled over her face, which was decorated with folksy modesty.

"No! Not at all!" he braved to brush a thick lock from out of her eyes as an affectionate gesture. "That look allows you to relate to the lowest common denominator. It's so important that everyone be prepared in six-month's-time to get aboard the arks and we need to send that message out to everyone. Actually, it was the perfect look to deliver that message and you did it splendidly. We all knew you could do it, but you shined out more than we expected. Well done, Mistress Venn'lith. Eh, excuse me. I mean, Prime Warden!"

It was all logical. Venn'lith understood the kind old prince's philosophy, but if she were the one running this exodus, only a select few would be allowed to enjoy the fruits of the new homeworld. There were well over a billion elves populating the globe at that moment, and it was her philosophy that few of them deserved to be there. Why these Aldebarans would want to save every one of these groveling people was somewhat beyond her. Would even criminals like that idiotic Travius be let aboard? In all seriousness, she wondered what purpose he would ever serve. That old goof was nothing but a maniacal, soothsaying, failed assassin. What value could such a dreadful person have on the new planet, or their current one for that matter?

"Well, as long as I still looked good in that close-up, I'm happy," Venn'lith relented.

"Here is your order, Maiden Venn'lith," Ping presented the chocolaty drink with her usual sense of humble duty. As always, it was like she had emerged from thin air. None of the Aldebarans in her present company really seemed to mind Ping's gestures of servitude and the Xochian knew that she needed to be on her best behavior whilst in their ear- and eyeshot. Bullying the help was just unbecoming as well as classless, and she wanted to make sure that she maintained a good impression with her royal guests.

"May I be of any service to any of you?" Ping offered the Aldebarans in her accented Atlantean.

"I'll be fine, but thank you, Lady Ping," Stolas made a polite bow.

"As am I," Cadreth joined the old prince with a smile. Venn'lith noticed that Ping was about the only female that she had observed in Cadreth's presence that didn't seem to be taken aback by his ungodly, wonderful image. Whatever the reason for that, it didn't matter. Ping was rather stupid, as far as the sun elf considered, but she was quite impressed by the Aldebaran's tolerance of her lowly intrusion. Venn'lith made a mental note to treat the help with a little more courtesy, unless it was during a time when she was enraged about something or other.

***

In the little guest room backstage, Glynna Reyliss was waging a valiant battle with Kaedish's wild curls by spit-polishing them down. She was losing that battle as his unruly locks sprung back up in defiance with every one of her salivating efforts.

"Oh, Kaedish, we really should take you to a professional to get rid of these cowlicks. Maybe we can get you a mana-infusion treatment. This is ridiculous," she lamented as more of the coppery strands misbehaved.

"Well, Mother, it's not my fault! I have Father's hair!" he protested in his defense.

"That you do," she winced.

Having to think about Ferd'inn was not on the top of her priorities on this nerve-wracking day. It seemed like every hour on the hour she was thinking about the other half of her family that morning. Why this was creeping into her mind was annoying to her as she had been stuffing it way in the back of her brain, to be honest, for the past week. She had been doing that for the past four months, the more she thought about it. Was something going wrong with them that she was detecting through her subconscious? A mother's vigilant intuition? It was possible. After all, Quen'die was stuck in Nanna's horrible old neighborhood and Ferd'inn may have been a freezing streetbound for all she knew.

Pictures of her husband huddling in some alphabetically-named refugee camp of the ADF trying to scarf the last grains of putrid rice out of his bowl flashed through her mind like an elfling's cartoon picture scroll. She could smell the saline bolts of sorrow pressing on the back of her sinuses and she knew this was the preamble to a cloudburst of tears. With haste, she sucked back the woe and thought about nice and neutral Kumarian vases just to bury the worry. She didn't need to micromanage a tear-stained face and Kaedish's wild hair at the same time while Venn'lith was priming the youth of the kingdom for the grand journey. Later, in her spare and lonely time, she would deal with those terrible feelings, but until then, a laissez faire stance on the subject was for the best.

While Glynna stamped down another curl on the young elf's head, her phone summoned her, " _Lady Reyliss, your husband calls you_."

A bolt of shock ran up her back and the stink of salt water resurfaced into her nose. It would only be seconds before her makeup would smear, but she felt compelled to answer this call as it must have confirmed her suspicions. Those suspicions were rather dreadful.

"Hello, Ferd'inn," she answered in the coldest voice she could muster.

"Glynna, it's me," he was almost whispering. Did this signify real trouble, she wondered?

"That's what the phone says," she huffed to remind him that he was stating the obvious. Work up annoyance with him, she trained her heart to think for her. It would be the best tactic to belay the sadness that was brewing at top speed from within. "Is anything wrong?"

"Well, what isn't," her husband countered. He could tell that the tone in her voice was all but inviting, but he needed to let her know that everything was all right with him and her daughter. "How are you holding up?"

"Just fine. I'm at the screenstudios right now," she attempted to put a smile into her dour voice as she said that. Fabulous times, fabulous places, fabulous people. It wasn't to make him jealous, he was too low to even feel that emotion, she was certain, but it was just to put her in a better mood. The pressure building behind her eyeballs indicated that she was losing that soulful battle.

"Wow, you leave the house and you're already on the manascreen," he tried to sound mirthful.

Glynna did detect a bit of sarcastic envy in that voice. This was a good thing, she assumed, as perhaps he would manage to aggravate her and then the urge to cry would be all but overridden. Yes, she would be sure to arrange a fight with him at that moment just so she could get him off the phone. "Yes, Centeo invited me to his daughter's broadcast. Did you see it? It's on every station."

"Centeo Mitlan? Our boss?" Ferd'inn did not even bother to suppress the jealousy with that.

"You mean _my_ boss, yes," the lady confirmed in a blunt tone. "Must I remind you that our daughter's behavior put the kibosh to your tenure at the Circle?" It was working, she thought as sorrow was giving way to the resentment she had felt and this was good.

"Look," her husband tried to save. "It wasn't exactly like you had heard. Quen'die has a much different take on the situation."

"Ferd'inn," she held back the desire to growl. "We have touched on this already and we have both heard from Centeo's report that Quen'die is not the person we have come to believe in. I'd go over all of it again with you, but just thinking about it makes me want to pull my hair out. The only thing I care about is that she is _physically_ fine. Otherwise, I can't bother myself with it."

"I can't believe you feel that way," the elf shot with brewing anger. "Yes, if you want to know, the maiden _is_ fine _physically_."

Lady Reyliss set off to isolate in the small supply room adjoining the guest's room. If Kaedish got too much wind of the conversation, he'd be lit up like a funeral pyre and she didn't want to contend with that intrusive drama either.

It was too late. "Mother," Kaedish quipped like a puppy. "Is that Father?" he was already gesturing to her for the phone. "I wanna talk to him!"

"Hang on," Glynna ordered the other end of the flow. "Kaedish, stop it!" Her words were a harsh hissing whisper. Her son could tell by the look on her face that no matter who it was on the phone, he was not privy to that conversation and there would be no way that he could convince Mother to cut in on it. Without further protest, he backed away, wide-eyed.

Swiping an orange elixir from the racks of sugary refreshments in the supply room, Glynna returned her attention to the phone. "I'll let you talk to Kaedish in time, Ferd'inn. He's just so riled up right now with being in the studio that I don't need the stress of him running loose all over the place. Please just back off for now."

"Okay, will do," Ferd'inn relented. "That's fine. I have plenty of time."

"Thank you, Ferd'inn," his wife said with a blow of relief. "Look, as you can probably tell, I'm really busy right now and this isn't a good time. I really must be off."

"Glynna," he stalled her from cutting the flow. "Where are you?"

"Like I said, I'm at the studio," she made sure to communicate her aggravation with that. She knew very well what he meant by his plaintive question, however.

"I don't mean that," his voice was evidencing its own fluster. "I mean where are you staying?"

There were so many possible ways to answer this, she guessed. This question was inevitable and the fact that he pled for it during her hectic time at this event was more than a terrible bother. Really, she figured, there was never going to be a good time for such honesty. Her quick intellect catalogued all those possible answers with the speed of a central databank and she opted for bluntness. In fair hope, the answer would shut her husband up and the flow would sever, once and for all.

"Centeo's," she hit him with her biting rock and made certain to use only his first name to impress familiarity.

"I knew it." She could hear his breath growing deeper. He was holding back a building rage and soon, this conversation would end. "I just knew it! Ever since he rolled out his posh red carpet and threw his weight around the lab like he owned it and..."

"He _does_ own it, Ferd'inn," she boasted as if she too shared the fruits of the elder's lifelong labor. "Why, he already tends to over sixty-percent of the facility's stock. Sorry to break the bad news."

"So? Why should that affect us?" he asked with a cry.

"Because if you held yourself with a bit of spine, maybe I could respect you and your role as a husband and a father, but as we can plainly see by Quen'die's behavior, you have failed miserably on your part." There, she thought. That should do it.

"The maiden did nothing wrong as I was trying to explain," he was raising his voice as she had expected. Glynna knew she would soon be able to take the opportunity to disengage.

"Ferd'inn, how can you say that?" she began with no intention of letting him expound. "Centeo explained it all quite clearly, and might I say, professionally. Do you realize how embarrassing it was for me to stand in that office that horrible afternoon and hear all about her transgressions from someone who doesn't even know her? How could this have escaped you? Our daughter is violent, she's devious, and I don't even want to go on about her...other behaviors."

"She is not!" he tried to quash a scream in Quen'die's defense. "That robber baron can have my job and even my name, but there's no way I will let him tarnish my daughter's reputation! That's right, Glynna! _MY_ daughter's! If she's so terrible, why is she a star athlete and top student? Why didn't he fire us both? Think about it, Glynna! He wanted me out of the picture and his daughter wanted Quen'die out of her way. He's a sociopathic criminal as far as I'm concerned and one day soon, you and Kaedish are both going to feel the sting of his nefarious schemes. He loves nobody! He just isn't capable of it!"

"Are you quite finished, Ferd'inn?" Glynna seethed. "I hope you know I didn't hear a word you just said. From what I gathered it was: 'Blah, blah...Blah, blah blah. Or something to that effect."

"You are evil. Pure and simple. I don't know what kind of spell that miscreant has over you, but you are completely bewitched by it," he knew this would enrage his wife, but he needed it off his chest. It would only be seconds before true screaming started.

"And you are a fool!" Glynna hollered back. "You are a powerless milquetoast that will never take the initiative in life! How can I, as a wife and our children ever respect that? So meek and humble. Those qualities are great for a dirty street prophet, but make for a lousy husband and father. You'll never pad a proper nest as you are!"

"No, Glynna," he stated with a cold matter-of-fact. "I can pad a nest just fine. It's a den of serpents you want and I wish you would have communicated that desire to me years ago. Then I could have learned about your true color, but unfortunately for you, _dead_ - _black_ isn't one!"

"I'm hanging up," she stated with equal bluntness. "Maybe you can hug brand-new alien trees when we make it to the new world. Okay, Hippie? B-Bye."

The small mirror at the back of the rather dusty room treated Glynna to a fright. Her cold pancake face was streaked with her warm, flushed skin. The tactic to offset the tears didn't work and she had not realized it. It would take another half hour to fix this mess set before her and she cursed her stupid husband for triggering the sad bout. She cursed herself for welcoming it by her own nature.

"Mother!" it was Kaedish. "What's going on? I want to talk to Father!"

"Not now, Kaedish. We'll talk to him later," she said through the locked door. She needed to be in complete solitude at that moment.

"Glynna!" another male's voice boomed. "It's Centeo. It was all a resounding success! Venn'lith is taking the kingdom by storm already! You need to see the pre-signatures for the Parliament! They're spilling in like a flood! They love her!"

"That's great, Centeo!" Glynna snorted back a sickening sob. "I'll be right out! Need to fix my face!"

"All right!" he hollered back through the wood. "I'll be out front."

Uncapping the elixir, she took a healthy swig. It tasted like urine and she spit it out into a small basin below the mirror. The combination of the acidic resentment, her saline sorrow and the phony orange aftertaste was all too much for her senses and emotions. Looking deep into her own eyes, she broke into a silent bawl.
Sweet Six-Six-Sixteen

**T** hat Feastday was the first of Fifthmoon and it ushered in Quen'die Ferd'inna Reyliss' sixteenth year at 3:08 a.m. on the dot. The bright morning awoke her with yet another replayed broadcast featuring her arch-nemesis' plea to the children of Atlantis on the immense adwheel that was limping outside her window. It was horrible enough that the blasted thing treated her to a rude awakening every day in her new home, but to be subjected to forty feet of manacast evil on repeat was the last straw.

The elfmaid tore open the wispy curtains of her bedroom and stared square into the prerecorded onyx eyes of Venn'lith Mitlan and her phony display of syrupy sincerity. On a normal day, Quen'die considered herself to be a rather tolerant, even forgiving, sort, but since this disgusting sun elf had ruined her life in the matter of a day, she realized she was experiencing her first taste of true spite.

"Eww... _'and I invite each and every one of you, with love_ ,'" Quen'die mimicked the Xochian's speech with whining mockery. "And I invite my foot up your rear!" she added with a vengeful holler. Four stories below on the street, a young male craned his neck upward to identify the source of the angry shout. With much embarrassment, the maiden ducked back into her room.

"Okay, I'm going crazy," she whispered to herself as she thrust her back against the wall and shut her eyes until they hurt. "I can't believe I'm trying to pick a fight with the adwheel." Upon reopening her lids and collecting her senses, she heard her empty stomach squeal.

Seeing Venn'lith appointed to that governmental office last night on the screen for the first time had sent Quen'die into a bale of rage and tears. Nanna had to almost restrain her from punching in the canvas. Considering that the government was falling for these infernals' dreadful plans, it was no surprise that Venn'lith was in league with them too. Quen'die assumed the Xochian was having the time of her life at it as well. That fiend deserved to go to the hells, Quen'die thought but was arrested by a touch of regret. If this Inferno was as horrible as Mavriel had claimed, not even Venn'lith needed to be there, despite how much Quen'die held the notion that she may have very well hated her.

Knowing the true nature of these visitors was almost too much to bear. What would she do about it? How much would Mavriel help her? When would she begin this tremendous fight against them? So many questions she had and all Mavriel could tell her was that she would know when the opportunity arose. Quen'die almost entertained the idea that Mavriel was somehow conning her, but Nanna had confirmed his position as righteous. What a horrible job I have, she moaned to herself.

"Gods, I'm so hungry," she continued with her self-talk. "As if I weren't skinny enough, how can I ever expect to build any more muscle with this stupid martial rationing?"

If the gods could hear her, she thought, Nanna would be up already and they could have breakfast. As it stood, she was so famished she didn't care if the meal consisted of sawdust and horse's lard. Sparking her anger yet again, Quen'die figured Venn'lith was feasting on a seven course meal at that very moment.

As expected, Nanna was up and puttering around her narrow kitchen. Quen'die couldn't smell anything yet, so she supposed Nanna had just begun the preparations. This nagged at the maiden, as she couldn't wait to eat _something_.

"Dee! You're up early!" Nanna beamed as she bent down to retrieve a muffin tin from the bottom cupboards. "I was just about to make cranberry muffins today. It's over the ration limit, but you _do_ realize today is special for us!"

"Huh?" the elfmaid was rubbing the morning red from her green eyes. "I don't... Yeah, Nanna. I was just awoken by that stupid adwheel again. How long has it been like that?"

"Oh, that dreadful thing has been bobbing through the streets like that for about a month now." Nanna grabbed some salts from the larder. "The city probably figures there's no sense in fixing it anymore if we are going away soon. I'm so sorry that your room is facing the street. I guess I didn't think about that when your father informed me you were staying here for a spell."

"No worries, Nanna," Quen'die chirped. "So, what's so special about today, anyhow?" the maiden cocked her red brows into a twist of confusion.

"What do you mean, 'What's so special about today?'" the old lady laughed as she set down a jug of molasses on the counter. "Have you checked your calendar?"

The young elfmaid all but forgot about this day. The sixteenth birthday was so momentous for an elf from anywhere in the world. To be honest, she never knew why there was such a great importance attached to it. After all, she wasn't yet an adult as that day wouldn't arrive for another two years, but it did signify the permission to drive a coach. With all the relentless, terrible events happening to and around her for the last two weeks, such a trivial notion as a birthday, in truth, had escaped her mind. Seeing how broke she and her father were, Quen'die supposed a shining hot coach with a bright pink ribbon on top would not be in the courtyard waiting for her. To think of it, Quen'die reasoned, Nanna didn't even _have_ a proper courtyard in the first place.

"Erm...," the maiden began with a touch of disappointment, char-broiled with a hint of resentment. "My birthday. The big sixteen."

"Oh, honey!" Nanna moaned with a happy sentiment for her granddaughter. "You aren't supposed to feel that way about your birthday until at least fifty! Maybe even sixty. Why, I'm almost ninety and I _still_ love my birthday." Nanna searched the ornate upper cupboards for some olive oil. The thin lady was so tall that she didn't even need to use a stepstool to search for the ingredients all the way up there. "With every one of them I get amazing new memories and the older I get, the better those memories are."

"Well," Quen'die countered with a groan. "I definitely would like to forget the last two weeks of my life, that's for sure. I mean, how can so many terrible things happen to one maiden and the whole world around her over such a short matter of time?" Like a flicker of manamirrors, she recalled in summation the foul happenings of her recent past. "I...I don't wanna go into it."

Nanna turned to her precious granddaughter and placed her gentle hands on her drooping shoulders. Even at her advanced age, there was nary a wrinkle on her smooth skin. "Then we won't, Dee. Today is special for you and I have a big surprise, so don't be too sullen, okay?"

A look of distrust mixed with glee spread across the maiden's face at that. What possible surprise could Nanna be speaking of, she wondered? Surprises were always the best when you were feeling low. It was like being launched out of a sucking sinkhole only to find out that you are able to fly. Quen'die was feeling that sweet sensation rise through her as fast as a sports-limmer as she saw the hinting gleam in Nanna's eyes. "Okay," the maiden relented with a smirk.

"I'll tell you what I'm on about after we make breakfast," Nanna said before chanting the hearth to warm life. "I can hear your belly from over here, and your father would have my hide if he found out I wasn't feeding you!"

The muffins were amazing and they tasted better than any others she had ever tried; much better than those mass-produced hunks of cardboard served at the Sea and Shell. Even if she weren't starving that morning, Quen'die decided that they would still be the ultimate in the annals of muffin-baking history. At times like that, Quen'die really felt grateful to have such a wonderful grandmother.

"I think I could eat five more of those, Nanna!" she exclaimed as she debated chasing the crumbs off her plate. "I think I want to be a pig when I grow up! Can I major in that at university?"

That question almost brought Nanna to the verge of immediate tears. If Mavriel couldn't thwart this deception with success, her granddaughter would never know the joys of university adventure or any joy whatsoever again. Throughout her years of study and contact with beings from other dimensions, Nanna had seen good spirits and she had seen bad ones too. In all honesty, she thought, the bad ones were quite horrific, yet so faulty. How they had ever managed to get this far in their vile plans amazed the old mystic. The infernals were so violent and paranoid that she was almost certain that this whole design would fail due to their selfish qualities all on their own. She decided that she would pray night and day for Quen'die's safety and success in this grand trial regardless. "Sure, you can, Dee. I believe that."

"Eh...okay, Nanna!" her granddaughter flashed the lady a mistrustful grimace, as if she was insane. "Whatever you say! I'll be the best pig in the world!"

"Before you do begin your path to ultimate swinehood," Nanna grabbed the dirty plates for the both of them. "We need to go downstairs to the courtyard. I have something very special to show you."

"And what might that be, Nanna?" Quen'die's eyes were bulging with excitement. She needed that pleasant surprise in light of the darkness she had been suffering through. "Another stay under the playground?"

"No," Nanna laughed. "Nothing that dismal. Come with me and I'll show you, but I need you to grab your tablet first."

Quen'die still didn't know what Nanna was going on about and she was intrigued as to why she needed her tablet, but the maiden figured that it would be better just to enjoy the trip downstairs. Throwing on a breezy green bandana-wrap, she and her grandmother set out.

Morning was so bright that day and the scents of spring were stronger than usual for that time. It was almost as if the flowers, shrubs and bushes were celebrating Quen'die's birthday along with her. Celebrating the birth of the "Chosen One," according to Mavriel. That moniker he had attached to her the other night had been sticking into her brain and she wasn't too keen on it the more she thought. It was certain that she was no stranger to responsibility and she considered herself to be rather competent, but "saving elfdom" was quite the tall order. Nevertheless, it was her sixteenth birthday and she didn't want to dwell on that. She wanted to take a one-day vacation from her lofty position as world savior.

Grandmother led her to the back of the apartment block into a dingy little alley. At the dead end of the dusty road, a small shack stood in the ominous shade. The shadows of the alley almost blotted out the sun of that day. Barring the intrusive adwheel's visit outside her window every morning, Quen'die was thankful that her little room didn't face this dark side of the building.

Nanna sauntered over to the door of the shed and pulled it wide open with a shocking strength for someone of her old age. "Come in closer, Dee. There's nothing in here that will bite, I promise."

Recessed in the gloom of the tiny structure was a strange-looking device of some sorts. As Quen'die approached closer, she saw that it was indeed a little vehicle. Nanna summoned the shed's light and revealed a small buggy resting in the center of the room. The maiden's eyes lit-up the second she realized what it was she was looking at.

The buggy was about fifty years old or older, as far as Quen'die's limited knowledge of coaches went. It was small, yet still large enough to seat four in comfort and was covered with a convertible white canvas top. Over the years, Nanna must have taken proud care of it because the paint job was still quite slick. Well, it was much tidier than Lauryl'la's ragged beater, the maiden judged. The best part about it, she noted, was that it was adorned in her favorite and signature color. A red buggy for the Red Tempest.

"Oh my gods!" she squealed with shock. "Can I drive this today? Please! You gotta let me!"

"Well," Nanna intoned with slow grace. "I suppose you can drive it since I am giving it to you."

"Are you serious?" she gasped, almost choking. "This buggy is mine?"

Nanna moved over to the side of the antique vehicle and looked like a showcase model for a moment as the light fell across her lithe body. For all Quen'die knew, Nanna may very well have been such a model at some point in her adventurous life. "I never drive this thing anymore. I seriously doubt I have hopped in it since well before you were born. Since I live downtown now, I really have no use for it and I think it's important that you have something to get around in. Yes, Quen'die, I know it's not much, but this is yours."

"So, what do we do? My friend Rylla says I need to 'signify' or something like that." Quen'die looked at the tablet in her hand and assumed that was why Nanna asked her to bring it along.

"Yes, you need to signify with the buggy in order to operate it," her grandmother affirmed. "Once that's over, you can summon it and it will respond to your whim! It's that simple!" Nanna patted the lip of the vehicle's driver side as the model had no true door. "Here, just hop in and set your right hand on the trackball and place your left hand on your tablet's screen. I'll upload the permissions to you."

It felt really weird, thought Quen'die as a warm buzzing sensation crawled up her arm like an invasive fluid. Within seconds, she began to feel light-headed as if in a trance, but still quite lucid. The static feeling soon made its way through her whole body and she almost wondered if she were caught in a neural loop. "Wow, this feels really strange, Nanna!"

"It'll be over soon. I just need for you to read aloud the words that are scrolling over your hand on your tablet," Her grandmother eyed the maiden with pride and felt very grateful just to be able to share this moment with her despite her family's trying times. Of all the things she had accomplished in her long life, Nanna Orsi decided she was happiest when she could spread her joy to others. "Some of the words are a bit odd, but just work out their phonics and the flow will take hold."

The elfmaid waited for the first word to zoom over her fingertips across the canvas screen. " _Quen'die Reyliss_ " she read aloud. Easy enough, she decided. " _Maiden...Elf...Girl..._ "

That was the one Rylla was telling her about the other night on the bluffs. It wasn't " _Gorl_ ," it was " _Girl_." Perhaps Nanna knew what it meant.

" _Buggy...Dolphin...Monkey..._ " What did monkeys and dolphins have to do with driving? Quen'die grinned as she recited the foolish words.

" _Manaball...Permission...Reyliss Quen'die._ " The scrolling feed of words ended with that and a surge in the buzzing tingle kicked the maiden's brain. Without knowing it, she crossed her green eyes and needed to readjust her vision from the intense bolt to her mind. The tingle was no longer moving through her and she felt the clear awareness of her surroundings the moment a mellow ping emitted from her tablet.

" _Congratulations and_ _thank you, Quen'die Reyliss,"_ the tablet sang in consumer triumph _. "I am now at your service. Remember to shop at Public Manaball for all your travelling needs!_ "

"So, is that it?" the elfmaid asked her grandmother. "I can drive this now?" Quen'die placed her right palm on her temple and tried to ascertain if she felt somehow altered by the cryptic experience. As she thought about it, she felt no different at all. Maybe the strange ceremony in which she just engaged had failed? "I dunno, Nanna. I don't feel any different. Maybe I said some of those weird words wrong or something. Maybe this buggy's too old to properly work anymore."

"Oh, these things can last forever," Nanna chuckled. "You can most certainly drive it now. You did just fine!"

"Well, I guess I'm just going to have to see for myself! Hop in!" Quen'die cheered as she honked the horn of the vehicle. Despite its vintage model, she felt at home the instant she settled in its helm. The time was at hand and she would at last be mobile within seconds.

"No, you go have fun," Nanna made her way out of the narrow garage. "I need to finish cleaning up the kitchen. I made a mess with those muffins."

"Okay, Nanna," her granddaughter called back. "I promise I won't wreck!"

To that, Nanna began laughing as she made her way to the flatblock's door. "Yes, please don't do that."

Alone, Quen'die sat in the dimness of the shack and felt a strange and sudden apprehension. What was it she had to do now, she asked herself? The buggy was much different than a standard size coach like her folks'. Almost as if by some strange magic, she became aware of a wellspring of intuition and knowledge that was alien to her just moments before.

" _Capso abrenn Quen'die!"_ she sung by instinct in manaspeech. Her new buggy rose to life as the purring noise of its manaball resounded throughout the small space of the garage. The maiden was rather shocked to hear how steady and clean the pulse was considering the vehicle's age. It was much smoother than Lauryl'la's coach, which was for certain.

When she touched the small trackball nestled in front of her, she felt the instant buzzing jolt of her signification from earlier. This circuit was much stronger, however, and she could feel nothing short of raw power pulsing through her spine only to collect at the base of her brain. Alternate feelings of glee and disgust flashed in her heart as the experience wasn't fully a pleasant one. Lauryl'la did mention to her that it would be odd at first, but that she would get used to it. Now that she was in the flow with the vehicle, Quen'die could tell for sure that her mind was somehow changed, as if she were now one with the hunk of cured wood that was this buggy.

The Feastday commuter traffic had died down by the time Quen'die navigated the tight streets of the downtown neighborhoods. It didn't matter to her where she was going, as she was now a free maiden and could drive this thing all the way north to Caidhul if she wanted to. Mana energy coursed through her legs and her back, and within a short time, she became accustomed to its throb just as Lauryl'la had promised. Sixteen really was a sweet year to be an elfmaid as, for the first time, she really felt like an adult.

Her waking trance was interrupted as she drove the buggy past a civil warden's substation. Waiting at the traffic light, she could see their burly forms milling in and out of the double front doors. Unlike the usual, they were all decked out in heavier armor which Quen'die supposed was due to the rash of crises and martial law going on. The moment an immense figure walked out of the station, the maiden felt a pang of dread travel through her. It was very tall, dark and winged. The male infernal gave a cordial wave to his elven counterparts as if he had been stationed there for years.

She thought it was so sickening that these terrible forces were now embedded with her government. How would she be able to convince anybody that they meant nothing but terror for the whole world? Nobody would listen to her, she surmised. The burning question reemerged for the hundredth time since Mavriel had announced her duty: "Why would Ui 'choose' me?"

Worse than ever, Quen'die felt the need to call her father. He wasn't the most steadfast of lords, but he was still hers. She sped the buggy past the towering infernal and, by reaction, sneered at him. Like the instinct of knowing how to drive, her scorn for these "Aldebarans" was a second nature. She didn't care if the fiend saw her shoot him the stinkeye as she couldn't quite help it. Catch it he did, as he stared back at her and puffed out his chest in confused challenge - _What's the big deal, maiden?_

Driving and phoning were not a problem either. It was almost as if the buggy would drive on its own directives while she summoned Father.

"Father! Guess where I'm calling from?" Quen'die giggled.

"Eh, the pyramids," he replied with sleep in his voice. Perhaps he had another long night in the youth hostel, she wondered?

"Ugh, no!" she winced. "I'm phoning you from my buggy!"

"What?" he said with apparent shock. "Let me guess; is it red with a white ragtop?"

"You got it!" she cheered.

"I can't believe Nanna gave you that old thing!" her father began laughing on the other end of the flow. "I was younger than you when she bought that! I'm surprised it still runs. Gods, it was old even back then. I totally forgot she had that thing."

"Well, it runs like a charm and I love it!" she boasted with pride. "It's even in my favorite color!"

"You are the Red Tempest," Ferd'inn intoned. "Say Quen'die, tonight Hal'rinn Hay'cenn wants us over for dinner. He wants to propose a job offer for me with the Home Guard or something like that, and I could really use the support. What say you chauffer your old lord in style?"

"Totally!" she beamed. "I can finally see Rylla again too. Mother blocked her from my flow and she doesn't want me to speak to her anymore because she's convinced that she's the one giving me professional lessons. This, by the way, is a total lie."

"Quen'die," her father's tone became less excited. "I don't know what else to say, but things between she and I have been getting sourer. I really don't want to go into it on your birthday, okay? Let's just have fun tonight with some good friends and you can zoom around town all you and Rylla want."

He was correct in it being the last thing she wanted to hear on her birthday. Mother was in a funk and the maiden had been praying to all the Twelve that she would come to her senses and take her family back, but deep down in Quen'die's gut, she knew that Mother was all but lost and for the foreseeable future. When such a grave sorrow happens, it is too much for the heart to take, she thought, and the mind allows you to stuff it. "Okay, Father. Let's go out and have some fun! I'll drive."

***

Quen'die's stomach was fuller than it had been since she moved to Nanna's. She was grateful that she had her grandmother to help her out, but the old lady wasn't on the government's priority list when it came to martial rations.

"I can barely drive this thing, I'm so full!" Quen'die laughed as she and Lauryl'la sped the buggy through the grimy docks district and into the countryside. "It's like every time I come over, you try to make me fat! How do you manage to be like the skinniest maiden in school?"

"I guess I was just made that way," her friend was adjusting her long legs in the cramped quarters of the buggy's passenger seat. "But seriously, since my parents are with the civil wardens, we pretty much get unlimited rations."

"Must be nice," Quen'die groaned with some envy. The sky was turning to a warm amber with the evening and the maiden punched the flow to speed the vehicle up. There was little time to wind through the sticks and get back before that annoying curfew. She wished that she could just drive this wonderful little thing all summer long and not worry about any stupid martial law or her being "chosen."

"Maybe my father will ramp up our rations too when he enlists in the Home Guard," she added as the foliage of the country became more frequent along the darkening roads. The delicious scents of that day were even stronger out there and since evening was approaching, the flora was working in overtime. "I just get the willies from those infer, er..., I mean those Aldebarans."

During their dinner with the Hay'cenn's, Quen'die's father was offered a spot with the newly-established police division. It was more or less the civilian extension of the ADF, and the maiden laughed to herself imagining her wiry father doing the morning physical drills. For his financial situation, it was just what the doctor had ordered, and the maiden was grateful to Lauryl'la's father for offering him that position, but she quickly thought of how he may have to work with the demonic forces that were conspiring against her entire race. They'd be sure to be most welcoming to his face, but knowing what she knew from Mavriel, they would be thinking of him as an unholy dinner.

"They're all right, I guess," Lauryl'la lounged back with some effort in the small bucket seat. "Mother and Father have to meet with them pretty much on a daily basis at the station. They don't have any complaints about them, although Mother did say that they were kind of backward."

Quen'die wanted so much to confide in her best friend about their true nature. Perhaps that was what she was chosen to do? Sooner or later, she would need to do something about it, but when, she fretted? Mavriel said that it would all be revealed in time, but how? Laying such an immense chunk of information like that was unfair to her friend while she was a captive in her buggy, Quen'die reasoned. No, it was not the time. "Well, they're not of this earth," she said in a hushed mumble. "Heh, that sounds like a bad movie title."

"Y'know," Lauryl'la looked over at her crimson pilot. "You oughta sign up with the Youth Parliament on Moonday. My father's making me join the Youth Defense Brigade. He says it will help me become a real warden when we get to the new world."

Amber sky was turning a wan ruby as the surrounding landscape darkened to a silhouette along with Quen'die's mood at such a suggestion. "You mean work for Venn'lith? Never! She'd have me arrested and killed on my first day!"

Out of the corner of her right eye, Quen'die could see that her friend was actually sneering at her. "You really need to stop being so paranoid, maiden. You took your licks and gave her some back. It's not Lith's fault that she has more resources than you to pull off a better revenge. Get over it!"

"Oh!" Quen'die was feeling a sense of dread occupy her spine along with the pulse of the buggy's manaflow. "So what you're saying is that you and Lith are copacetic now?" Bad move, she regretted in that instant, but things may have changed in the last few days for all she knew.

"That's not fair, Dee," Lauryl'la's sneer was now full-on anger. "Just because I suggested that you get out of bed and stop whining for the first time in a month doesn't mean I'm in cahoots with her! We're all in this together and we need to stop being elflings and start being, uh, _civic_!"

Lauryl'la's shallow materialism was rearing its ugly head, supposed the elfmaid. Venn'lith Mitlan was just the maiden who could make those wishes happen for her and this enraged Quen'die just by the notion. How terrible life would be without a good friend in times like these. There was Nanna and Mavriel at her side, but then who? Father was a worthless sop as far as she was concerned, and even _he_ would be working with those demons, side-by-side. If Ui could create all this, why couldn't He just come down and clean up this mess Himself? Blink His eyes and poof! \- demons be gone. What was the term for that in Literature class, she wondered? _Deus Ex Machina._

"I guess you're right about that, Rylla, but I don't want to be a bull working for Lith! I wish they had an opening for navigators. That's what I really want to be when I grow up." Quen'die slunk back in her seat feeling defeat.

"If you don't do your part, _none_ of us may get to grow up!" Lauryl'la countered. "Even the Zobbos are joining, and they normally don't do anything but party and lie around in suncaskets all the time!"

The maiden was correct in her judgment, but not for the same reasons Quen'die had considered. What to do about it and when? Perhaps Lauryl'la was right in that she needed to get out and do something instead of biting her pillow all day long at Nanna's in self-pity. Perhaps there would be clues and cues about what she should do out there if she got more active, she reasoned.

"Maybe I'll just..." Quen'die interrupted her options with a loud shriek. It was infectious and Lauryl'la joined her as the maiden conked the tiny vehicle to a halt. They were lucky that her reflexes had saved them from colliding with the two shadowy forms that darted across the dim country road. They walked on two legs like elves, but were hunched and squat.

"Omygods! What are they?" Lauryl'la panicked. "We could have killed them! Were they kids?"

Quen'die drove with a slow roll next to the forms that were hunkering against the road's berm. They were only about five-and-a-half feet tall and dusky. The male held a tree branch in his hands like a spear while the female clutched a tiny infant. They all had looks of mortal fear across their heavy faces as they stared at the buggy with wonder and horror.

"HAHAHA!" Lauryl'la belted with relieved glee. "Those are just some trogs!" She stood up over the buggy's rollbar and began to sing the theme from a comedic cartoon that featured a bumbling family of troglodytes.

" _Trogrocks! Meet the Trogrocks_!" she ended the world-familiar jingle with a point and a laugh at the terrified trio.

"Rylla! Stop!" Quen'die reacted. "That's awful and racist! They're scared!"

The burly male trog barked at them with a high-pitched warning, yet they appeared too paralyzed to run away from the maidens, prompting their baby to cry. Quen'die summoned the buggy with haste to speed away from the atavistic family. Lauryl'la fell back into the seat with a yelp.

"What's the big deal, Dee?" her friend shouted with a whine. "I was just having some fun and you have to get all political! Are you hanging out with On'dinn Jak'sin or something? I mean, how can I be racist if those stupid things aren't even the same species as us? They're gross too! They're all covered with that nasty hair. I thought they were wearing crude loincloths or something, and it turned out to be their junk! Eww! The point is, we're dolphins, and they're monkeys."

"That's just sick and elitist!" Quen'die barked. Perhaps On'dinn was rubbing off on her, but in a good way. "Who knows? Maybe after we're all gone, they'll rule the world!"

"Ha!" her friend guffawed. "I'd like to see that! 'I now introduce High King Ooga Booga the Hairball!'" Lauryl'la continued to chortle at her insensitive wit. "Honey, that's _not_ gonna happen. This place is gonna be orc-world in no time."

Quen'die was never raised to be like that and she was taught that those who acted in such a way were selfish and downright mean. Although Mother was not her favorite person at that time, she did teach her some valuable lessons, and that was one of them. The more Quen'die figured Lauryl'la would commiserate with Venn'lith, the more she would become like her. In some ways, she could see such a change in her ever since the day that witch had arrived at their school.

She was thankful that they were almost at the end of their country drive as the Hay'cenn home loomed in the near distance. Quen'die was tired of this whole arrangement and Lauryl'la's attitude. In some ways, she was grateful that her mother had blocked the flow to her communications. "Rylla, I just have to say, I would rather have the likes of On'dinn rub off on me than that of Lith."

"Well, if you want to be a loser, don't let me stop you," her friend huffed as she jumped out of the buggy. On their well-lit porch, Lord Reyliss was saying his goodbyes to the Hay'cenns to which Quen'die waved back a polite farewell. It looked like she was going to lose a friend, but at least she had a good meal for the first time in a week. "Bye, Quen'die Reyliss."

As her father made his way in the gloomy dusk toward his daughter's buggy, Quen'die made a mental imperative that she would indeed get more proactive come Moonday morning. There were tons of positions available now for the kingdom's youth and, she hoped, there would be a sign as to what that could be. Keeping an open mind was the best bet, she supposed.

"Father," she broke her concerned silence as she made their way toward their respective downtown dumps. "Please be careful."
Birth, School, Work, Triumph

**T** he final clouds of the showery morning were giving way to cerulean blue skies and the Fifthmoon sun was already beating down on Quen'die's pale shoulders. She adjusted the flat-conical sedge hat to accommodate her large ears which she had borrowed from Nanna. It was doing wonders to fend off sunburn and to provide her some more shade. Nanna claimed it was a genuine Tel'lemurian import. The maiden was susceptible to some wicked searing due to her light skin and, one summer, she was bedridden on her stomach for a week as her burning back had shed what seemed like a pound of skin. Regardless of her attempts to adjust the cover, her ears still flopped out to her sides and she felt that she looked like stupid Noopy.

Corosa's Central Plaza was being used as an impromptu recruiting center for the Home Guard and the Youth Parliament. There were several different stations serving the effort dotting the city, but this one was closest to downtown and she figured that she would take an early morning stroll there to clear out her mind.

Looking around, she tried to peer over the heads of the thousands upon thousands of young elves that were fidgeting in a myriad of lines for work placement. By pure fortune, she could not find Lauryl'la's tall auburn-capped form amongst them and Quen'die, to be frank, hoped not to for a while.

During her walk to the great assembly, so many thoughts rushed through her mind despite her burning desire to stuff them. First and foremost was what kind of job she would choose from the multitudes of offerings and what she should do about her possible former-best friend. It seemed like betrayal was her new lot in life; first Mother and now Lauryl'la. Was her friend not the person she had always thought she was or was the maiden somehow changing under her nose, she wondered?

Before her stood a sea of multicolored tents from all sorts of businesses, companies and vendors who were supporting the exodus. With all her worries and Lauryl'la competing for her mind's attention, she couldn't decide which one to approach. They all seemed like such exciting prospects, but there could be only one.

Aside from the civil wardens, companies like the Sea and Shell, Public Manaball, Consolidated Power and Light and even the Corosa Health Circle were taking the applications from the youth of the kingdom. It was a huge operation and serious effort as most everyone was pitching in. So many opportunities were present, but where to pitch, she asked herself?

The Sea and Shell would be kind of fun, she figured, as she would spend her days distributing food and other goods to the people who really needed them. Public Manaball was out of the question as she knew nothing about coaches except now how to drive them. Helping the power wardens just was not her gig, and she was adamant on not wanting to work with the bulls as that might entail seeing Lauryl'la every day. Helping people at the Health Circle sounded all right, she relented with a shrug of the shoulders, so she made her way toward that tent.

As she double-checked her satchel to make sure she had her tablet and phone and any other vital info, she heard a boisterous holler incoming from behind. "Yo! Dee Reyliss! The Red Tempest!"

It was Monti "The Face" Dell'lavio in his usual carefree form. A shirtless form, to be exact and Quen'die began laughing in hysterics as she saw him running toward her like a half-naked buffoon.

"What's up, Red!" he rushed-in to give her svelte frame a bear hug.

"Hi Face," she was still navigating her words through her giggles and his clutch. "Nice to see that you managed to dress up for the occasion!"

"You bet!" he began posing his physique with brazen arrogance. "Look, I figured, if I gotta stand out here in the hot sun all day just so I can get a job, I might as well work on my tan, you know what I mean?"

"Not really," Quen'die pointed to her rigid hat. "I try to avoid all that, myself."

"Yeah," Face flicked the brim of her headgear. "What are you applying for anyway? Rice farming?"

"Not quite," she laughed. "I have sensitive skin and I borrowed this from my nanna. It's genuine Tel'lemurian."

"Hey, that's pretty capital," he stood back transfixed on her Eastern-style outfit. "You really look like some maiden from one of those awesome chop-socky movies!" To that, Face mimicked a martial arts move. "Hai-ya! _Twenty Crippled Elders_ is my favorite!" The Zobbo looked around in the direction of Quen'die's destination. "So, uh, where you going off to?"

"Well, I figured I would apply at the Health Circle and do nursing and stuff," Quen'die announced with only a half of a heart as it seemed the only decent choice.

"Nah!" Face batted away her wavering decision. "You don't wanna do that! All you'd be doing every day is cleaning up poop and pee! Look, you, you oughta come with me and work on the docks! It's like Zobbo Central over there! A total blast!"

"What!" Quen'die made an unabashed wince at the suggestion. "What in the gods' names would I do over there?

"What all the females do there!" he belted as if it were common knowledge. "Golem handler! Everybody knows that females make the best handlers. Something about better empathic links or some such hooey. It'd be great! You'd get to work with me and my brothers all day long and all you'd have to do is load and unload stuff onto barges. It's easy!"

Quen'die bit her fingernail in uncertain wonder over that. "Hmm...I don't know. I mean, I don't really know a whole lot about golems and all. It sounds kind of capital, though."

"You bet it is!" Face was hyped at the notion of working with her as she could tell from his enthusiastic tone. "We'd have such a good time! You'd actually _want_ to come to the job! Total Zobbo adventure every day!"

"Well...," she hesitated for a quick moment as she filed the pros and cons of such an opportunity in her mind. "Okay, Face, you sold me."

"All right, Red!" he clapped his hands in triumph at her decision. "Way to be!"

She chewed on the concept of working on the docks as a handler. How could such a position be her chosen calling? Helping the wounded and sick at the Health Circle seemed most apropos and most logical, but for some odd reason, she could feel she was making the right choice by relenting to Face's suggestion. It was an intense feeling that she just couldn't put her finger on, so she decided that she should just ride with it.

As they made their way to the Corosa Docks pavilion, Face stopped her for a moment. "Hey, Red, you wouldn't happen to know where Ay'linn is, do you?" His look on his face displayed a grimness that was quite uncharacteristic of him. He seemed really worried, she thought. "You know, 'Princess?' I don't know how to tell you this, but she's gone missing."

"Huh? Sorry, I... didn't know she's been missing," Quen'die answered with honest concern. "When did you last see her?"

"Hmm...It's been almost a week now and nobody's heard a thing," the burly Zobbo shook his head in defeat. "There'd be no way she'd run off for no reason and the salon hasn't seen her either. Shoot, she hasn't even been seen at the gym or gone tanning! Now, that's bad! I'm really worried, Red."

"Well, didn't you at least go to the warden's?" Quen'die suggested.

"Aw, sure we did," he raised his palms up in confusion. "But those guys are worthless. We're just dock-trash to them and they only come around when they want us to turn down the music or bust up one of our parties. They were like certain Princess just ran away from home and pretty much left it at that. I'm like, 'Whattaya mean! She loves the docks!' You know, sometimes being a Zobbo is hard work."

"Look, Face, she can't have just disappeared. Really, look at all these people. She's probably in here somewhere," the elfmaid tried to reason.

"Yeah, but come on, Red!" he leaned back in friendly challenge. "After a week? Nah, she isn't here. It's bad news, I tell ya."

"Really, I'm sorry to hear that. She seems really sweet," Quen'die put her hand on his bulbous shoulders. "I'll do my best to look for her and I'll tell everyone I know that she hasn't turned up."

"Hey, that'd be really great of you," he said in all seriousness. "Just keep your eyes peeled, eh? On a lighter note, here's our stop. The Docks!"

The Docks' tent was one of the larger ones erected that day and a gaggle of rough-looking elves from all over the city were milling in the long queue to submit their applications. Quen'die noticed that few of the applicants were female, but there were a couple of surly maidens in line. Knowing what she knew of the business, they were likely to be jockeying for golem handler positions as well. Competition wasn't a concern anymore as the Docks needed anyone and everyone to handle all the traffic in the port now that this phony exodus from Earth was underway.

A gruff foreman was seated in the shade of the tent where it was at least ten degrees cooler. For this, Quen'die was thankful, but Face seemed anxious to get back out into the sunshine so that he could nurture his bronze coloration. With nervous steps, the maiden walked up to the long table.

"Name," the hulking foreman blurted without bothering to look up.

"Eh, Quen'die Reyliss," she tried to keep her cool with the big oaf.

Raising his scarred face to her slim form, he shook his bald head and crossed his eyes in exasperation. "Lemme guess, you're here to be a gung-half?"

"Uh, well, no. I..."

"Golem Handler," he answered for her with a rude grunt. "What do you know about wrangling puppets?"

"Uh, well," she stammered again as she tried to find a decent response to such an expected question. "I have top social ranking on _Golem Smash III_!" That sounded so stupid she thought, but it was the basic truth.

"Good gods, we're all doomed," he lamented with a hint of a joke in his voice. "Here, I'll upload the application for handler to your tablet and you flow it back to me when you're done."

"Yeah, but I...,"

"NEXT!" he boomed beyond her little shoulders.

The questionnaire scrolling on her tablet's canvas presented a volley of rather unexpected questions, in her opinion. Many of them were quite easy to answer and they more or less dealt with people skills, charisma and self-esteem. Some of them were also a bit weird, like: "You dream you are running down a hill. On the way down, you stop to smell a lily jutting out of the grass. How do you feel?"

"Triumphant!" Quen'die answered, as if by instinct. Why she made such a response boggled her for a moment, but it was like she couldn't help it; like the answer was canned or prerecorded. Was that supposed to be a sign, she wondered?

As if to elucidate her confusion she heard a voice from over her shoulder, "Good answer!"

Mavriel was standing right behind her and Quen'die wasn't sure for how long he had been there. His solid frame was wrapped in a simple fitted toga and topped with a floppy suncatcher hat while the rays of the sun bathed his body in such a way that he looked to be hewn of gold. With a devilish tingle, the maiden entertained a momentary salacious thought about her angelic guide, only to shake it out of her crimson head with an automatic pang of guilt.

"Hey! That's cheating!" she jabbed with a laugh. "What are you doing here, Mavriel?"

He leaned in close to conspire. "Hey, just call me 'Mav' out here. I don't want the bad guys to know I'm roaming around on Earth. That could create a big mess for all of us."

"Oh, yeah, I gotcha," she winked without effort. Some elves couldn't do it well, but she could wink either of her lids with as much ease as she could wiggle her ears. Lauryl'la thought it was an enticing trait of hers and was rather envious of the redhead's ability.

Darting her head to and fro, Quen'die could see that some infernals were punctuating the crowd of hopeful volunteers and applicants as she counted those with the dull wings sprouting from their backs. Their presence was sporadic, but still known, and some of the elves present were in awe of their natural beauty as they seemed to beg for their attention. Mavriel had discorporated his shining pair as he aimed to remain incognito.

"Won't some of them recognize you anyway?" the maiden challenged. "There's quite a few of them roaming around us." She bit her bottom lip in thought and realized she had not bothered to apply lipgloss that morning. "Do you think I'll be in danger if they see me with you?"

"Possibly," he stated with the gravity of a dropped stoned. "But that could all be a part of the plan. We are playing this by instinct and ear, or rather, by heart. For some burning reason, I feel secure that you applied for golem master, if that makes any sense."

She looked up at her deva with some annoyance as she lost her good feelings about the job. "No, not really. All I can see by me working on the docks is that I'll just have a good laugh with the Zobbos every day. That is, if I could laugh anymore."

"You seem to be in better spirits than you think," he looked around the bustling of the plaza himself and tipped his brim down to hide his eyes. Sauntering duly toward them was a tall female with coppery curly hair. Her eyes locked dead onto him.

"Quen'die, why don't you go back into the Docks tent and try to look interested in something. Talk to your friend Face or some such thing. I'll be right back to get you." His features slid down, turning his face into a grim mask. "I think I'm busted. Go!"

"But Mav!" she blurted in a panic.

"Go! Now!" he shooed as furtively as he could to detach his company of her. He was thankful she did just that without further protest.

The disgraced erelim stalked her way over to the familiar figure of the deva with a cocked smirk on her face. Sammian was wearing a uniform summer gown of a simple red and black, as were all the female infernals present for that occasion. Perhaps it was to help maintain the trust of the general populace to display a humble appearance and promote some sort of communal empathy with them.

"Mavriel! What are you doing here?" Sammian was grinning with a genuine sense of relieved recognition. "Did you get sick of the Boss getting up in your business too? Can't say I blame you. It's really good to see you here, sweetie."

"Even for my own benefit and the benefit of my mission," his eyes shone through the shadow of his brim. "I cannot tell a lie."

"Oh, great!" her mirth all but drained as she ground her teeth in annoyance the instant he answered. "Ui sent you down here to bust me, I suppose? I promise, I won't go with you easily. Not with a lowly deva. You are going to have to earn that reward, little pigeon"

"You suppose wrong, Sammian," his grim look of judgment failed to falter. "Although I find your actions completely foul, my mission is of a much grander scale than mere police work. That was _your_ job, or did you already forget?"

"Do you mean to tell me He assigned you to stop this whole operation?" Her face lit up as if she had just heard the most hilarious of jokes. She was good at what she did and could read the mind of anything or anyone when she put forth that effort. "Good luck with that, little birdie."

"Your insults are of no consequence to me, Sammian," he remained steadfast and locked-on. She met his sights and he could feel her mining his thoughts for any and all information he held. Mavriel erected as many psychic walls as he could muster with each and every volley of her unwarranted probes.

"Hey!" she broke her invasive concentration. "I just realized something. Aren't you deaf and dumb now? How can you hear anything I say?"

"My deficit is only applicable to my brothers and sisters," Mavriel sneered at Sammian like an iron auger. The fiend was somewhat taken aback by her former inferior. "Our conversation just proves you are no longer amongst them."

For a fleeting split second, the erelim looked dazed and regretful as Mavriel confirmed her total loss from the Creator's Grace. Her normally regal jaw went slack and stupid. "Heh, well that's settled then, I suppose," she saved with a haughty giggle.

"You still have a chance to turn back, Sammian," the deva relaxed himself some, yet the air was tense and silent around the pair. It was as if time and sound ceased in that engulfed plaza and they were the only two in existence. "Although you will face judgment, of course."

"Whatever, Mavriel," she broke the cold standoff. "I've made my decision. Since you are down here, it would behoove you to do the same."

"Not a chance, Sammian," he retorted without a skip.

"And why not?" the fiend knew that Mavriel would not act against her out in the packed open and amongst the crowd-wading infernals. She closed in on his statuesque form with a lascivious brush and whispered. "You would have total freedom from Ui and you could do whatever you desired with any of these fishies. Take that sweet little scarlet-haired morsel you were talking to just now, for instance. Would you not love to feast on her blood with nary a repercussion? Not much meat on that one, but she could still prove to be a delicious snack. Why, you could even have me if you so desired. There is never a shortage of flesh in the Inferno - for any reason."

"You disgust me, Sammian," the deva jerked away from her intended embrace. "Turn back from this while you still have the opportunity."

"Not a chance," she made a mockery of his earlier answer. "When you change your mind, come see me. There will always be room on the ark for you."

"Go away, Sammian. We have nothing left to say."

She made a coo of phony disappointment. "You're no fun, Mavriel. But don't worry; I'll keep a close eye on you, little pigeon. Farewell and good luck with your mission."

The deva stood like a monolith installed deep into the earth as he watched her swagger away like she owned the place. Ui had told him that an insider had compromised the Ophanic portal, but Mavriel wasn't certain who had been the culprit. More of this mystery was revealing itself and despite the sick feeling in his gut, he was thankful that he had at least some answers to the puzzle. Sammian turned around with a slow pivot and blew him a kiss from down the crowded promenade.

Who was that wispy redhead with Mavriel, Sammian wondered? She may very well have been the golden deva's ward. She noticed that the maiden had retreated into a nearby tent and was now conversing with a topless and rather boisterous male. With ears sharp in shape and ability, the fiend honed into the young one's thoughts.

_Quen'die Reyliss_ : that was her name. Scanning the contents of her mind, Sammian could see that Mavriel was at the forefront of them. Cohabitating with those thoughts was a profound worry and yet, an inflated sense of purpose. Was this elfmaid a narcissist or just empowered by her new job as a golem handler?

No, Sammian corrected herself as she delved deeper into the annals of her target's mortal brain. This scrawny fishie considered herself "chosen." That word was evidence enough for the fallen erelim as she squinted harder in psychic concentration. Quen'die Reyliss was an agent for the Adversary and Sammian was most sure of it. It was time to pay a special visit to her new boss as the infernals might no longer enjoy a free and easy ride to hell.

"Mavriel?" Quen'die's lilting voice broke his angry trance. Sammian was out of eyeshot and he figured that they were safe for the time being. "Mavriel, who was that?"

"That, Quen'die, was Sammian," the deva groaned. "She was once an agent of ours, just like all the rest of the infernals, but she hasn't completely fallen yet. I guess you could say that she is directly responsible for all of this mess."

"You mean she wasn't part of the Great Rebellion you and Nanna were telling me about the other night?" Quen'die had so many questions about what went on to create such horrible demons, but this knowledge was all so new to her.

"Let's get you something to eat," he stated with a bland tone. "I'll tell you more about it there."

***

Although he didn't need it, the fish tasted pretty good and, for a moment, he envied the elves reliance upon the notion of food. Quen'die was wolfing her plate down as if she were starving.

"Sorry I'm eating like a pig, but I haven't been having enough under these stupid rations," she explained with a full mouth. "I'm so happy the city provided everyone with a free lunch here today. I hope I can get seconds."

"It is pretty good," Mavriel agreed. "I especially like the taste of these bones. They're crunchy."

"You're not supposed to eat those!" the maiden laughed. "You could choke on them! It happens all the time, so I'm told."

"I'll be careful," he smiled. "So anyway, about Sammian." The deva moved in closer as he noticed that a few infernals were walking around close to the makeshift food court. Many elves in their company were devouring their plates with equal gusto as they too had suffered the same scant rationing.

"Yes," Quen'die wiped her greasy mouth with a napkin. "About Sammian."

"Sammian was what we called an erelim back Home," he began. "They are like our internal affairs and they have a very liberal, nearly unlimited access to Paradise. It's their job to make sure everything is running smoothly with all the angelics and they report to Ui personally if anything happens to go wrong."

"But, unfortunately, the watchman needed some watching, right?" Quen'die surmised as she attacked a green apple.

"You got it!" he chirped. "Anyway, Lucifer evidently tempted Sammian somehow with a load of nonsense and she has fallen for it. So then, she used her special powers to breach what we call the Ophanic portal."

"Okay, so what's that?" the maiden had already consumed half of the sour fruit.

"That is actually a living entity that functions like a gate to Paradise. They just sing instead of speak and they look like a winged wheel with one big eye in the center."

"Weird," the maiden intoned as she eyed the scant rest of her apple with hungry greed.

"Not the best of conversationalists, but they are totally vital to our security," he said as he pushed some peas around on his plate. "Kind of like a living front door. Anyway, since she hasn't fully fallen yet, she's in a state of limbo. She is what we call a 'Peri.'"

"Wow, this is a lot to take in," Quen'die looked at her empty plate and frowned. "Devas, erelim, peris, ophans. What else?"

"Paradise and the Inferno each have many ranks and classes." He looked off at a large infernal male who was walking along with a young brunette maiden; locked in what seemed to be friendly conversation. "But I too have an infernal counterpart who is assigned to you as well."

"What?" Quen'die's attention was now undivided as she stared at her deva with large frozen eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if you live a bad life, and I mean a _really_ bad one, you will be escorted by an _Asura_ when you die," Mavriel's face cast a dour countenance.

"You mean bad, like Lith?" Quen'die asked him with an honest force.

"Well, she's young yet," he grimaced with a shrug. "I guess that all remains to be seen. But yes, if you do truly enough evil in your life, I have to hand you over to your asura."

"Eww... ' _asura_ ,'" the maiden winced at the dreadful possibility. "So what's his name?"

"Yours?" the deva pushed his half-eaten plate over to Quen'die who began attacking it in an instant. "Well, it's a female. Her name is Quezz, and she's a real piece of work, might I add. You definitely should feel thankful that she's not watching over you."

"You don't have to warn me, Mavriel!" Quen'die raised a thin scarlet brow in disappointment at such a notion. "I have no ill intent and I'm not a baby."

"I know you don't and I didn't mean to sound like I was telling you an old wives' tale, but she's very real and she would love for me to pass you over." He wondered if he was being too harsh with her, but so many elves were swayed with ease by the wrong ideas. Mavriel loved Quen'die and he just wanted her to know what her options were. "Guess I just wanted to give you a fair shake. That's all."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me, Mav," she was feeling full at last and put down her chopsticks. "This face is on the case."

"Yes," he broke a slow smile as he looked into her beautiful green eyes with a sense of pride and assurance. "I do believe so."
Sittin' In a Tree

**A** short time ago, this grand house was an abattoir of humiliation for Venn'lith Mitlan. The thrashing of her name and the shredding of her ego all took place within the arboreal innards of Sig'ryn's odd, leafy mansion. No matter what direction she turned, burning memories of that terrible party were triggered in her mind. Why her father had decided to meet the God'runn's there was only logical, but she tried her best to fake an illness to avoid revisiting it. It was an unfortunate fact, the maiden's father was all too aware of her rote manipulations and he had insisted she go since she was now an official and no longer a child.

It all had something to do about a potion or medicine that the Aldebarans were concocting to alleviate the trip to this new world. In truth, she wasn't paying honest attention to the situation or her expected directions, since she was much more focused on the playful wiles of her dear Cadreth. As it was told, the journey to this system could be rather unpleasant to the typical elf and this alchemical remedy was supposed to rectify that for everyone. Sig'ryn's father's corporation was designated to mass-produce and market it. Just as Venn'lith was the designated spokesperson for the Youth Parliament, she too was assigned to monger this dope on the manascreen.

Show business was harder work than she had imagined, and she, to be frank, didn't enjoy it. Why all the tittering maidens at school wanted in such desperation to be cast in front of the mirrors was now beyond her. For the most of every day, it was idle waiting and lots of it. No matter how demure or subtle the makeup and costuming were designed, it involved hours upon hours in a cramped stylist's chair. "The Djaenn's" conversations, which Venn'lith found witty under normal circumstances, could turn rather tiresome after a while as she would never shut her mouth. In order to maintain her ladylike poise in front of her alien hosts, Venn'lith developed the simple coping skill of biting her lower lip while she practiced the inane lines in her head for whatever stupid message her father insist she parrot.

Breaks were at least frequent and this was a blessing as it meant she could spend more time with her new playmate when the adverts' bumbling director had called for one. Cadreth was more than just a mere diversion, she figured. This feeling settled deep in her gut and she was becoming more and more accepting of it as the two spent time together. Long ago, the Xochian decided from an early age that love was for the weak and it would open one to terrible exposure and collateral. Something about this male broke her self-imposed law and she had been debating those feelings ever since she first laid eyes on his transcendent beauty.

As the commercial's director was mumbling about losing the evening light and hollering at various mirrortechs, Venn'lith sidled up to her new novion on Sig'ryn's high veranda. He was staring far out into the golden ocean before them as if he had never seen anything like it before.

Everything was such a wonderful dream to the winged lad, the maiden noticed. He was entranced by so many simple things on Earth that Venn'lith found it quite endearing. Were anyone else to act this way about more-or-less nothing, she would have been irritated to the extreme.

"You look as if you've never seen an ocean," she broke his trance with the mundane nature before him. "Do you not have these things back home?"

"Oh, we have them, but our atmosphere is different somewhat," he looked down at her petite form with a loving smirk. "These colors...they just don't happen. They are so wonderful and bright. I can't explain it, but I am genuinely sad that you guys have to leave all of this."

"Eh," Venn'lith was now interested in his alien world. How could an ocean under any atmosphere not flicker with light, she fretted? Just the suggestion left by his statement was a bit creepy in her opinion. "What exactly _do_ your oceans look like?"

"Not like this!" he announced with unabashed wonder. "It's hard to explain. They're...very dark and...," he rummaged in his mind for words that would not denature the sick qualities of hell. The last thing he wanted to do was to spook this maiden about her coming destination. "Well, they're pretty black, I guess."

"Black!" she looked up at his tall frame, almost as if she were pleading. "How horrible! What's _wrong_ with Aldebaran?"

Cadreth could see this one was rather savvy and was not swayed by the ease of sugar coating. Her question was so blunt and kind of insulting. He figured that he would have to disclose a half-truth with some creativity. "Heh, nothing is _wrong_ with Aldebaran, it just has different astronomical qualities than Earth and that makes for a different-looking environment, I guess. I like it just fine, but, yes, you wouldn't enjoy my homeworld one bit, I'm afraid." He stared out again at the kaleidoscope of color and movement of the Eastern Atlantean. "We have nothing like this. The oceans are so dark and grim. Like an endless track of slow crude."

"Oh, I see," Venn'lith frowned at Cadreth as a horrible image played through her head of what it must be like there. "Um, what's 'crude?'"

"You know, unprocessed oil. Eh..., look, don't worry about it," he let out a small chuckle at her misunderstanding of a technology her kind did not know. "It's just pretty ugly in comparison to this, that's all."

The maiden had never considered herself very imaginative, as she was treated to anything material her mind had wished, but as she could not fathom the true nature of Cadreth's cryptic description, she craved to know more about his murky origin. "Okay, I have to know. Exactly how can such a gorgeous creature like you come from anywhere that is ugly? I think you are pulling my leg, _Mijo_."

Venn'lith was willful; almost a brat and he loved that about her. Trickery and temptation were his assigned specialties, but she was mesmerizing in her own way. When all of this was over, the infernal decided that he would petition Lucifer to have her made into a succubus and not a bag of idiotic larva which was sure to be the fate of the rest of elfdom. It was a definite imperative. Unlike the others amongst that lustful rank such as Polunica, he wanted his target for his very own. Perhaps he would deign to ignore the rest of those groveling fiends and tend to her in an exclusive fashion. No one could plan out eternity, he mused, but he would not rule such a warm notion out.

"Aldebaran is ugly in that it's just dark and grey and," he fumbled for as neutral of words as he could mine. "Dull, I suppose. It isn't fit for your beauty."

"I should say not!" she ignored his compliment and that made him smile even more. The maiden's ego was unmatched, even by her bulky, haughty father. That lord was too political and apologetic with the goetics; simpering was a better word for him. Venn'lith knew nothing like that and her force and strength made her all the more attractive. Under normal circumstances, were he to "visit" her in her sleep, she would be sure to rebuff him just because she knew that she could. Once in hell, Glasya herself would have to look over her shoulder more often with this one amongst the demonic population. Venn'lith, he reasoned, for lack of a better term, was a total...

"...I shall make it my honest effort never to step foot on the surface of Aldebaran," she broke his thought as she raised her sharp nose in the air and jutted her bottom lip as if her statement was a royal decree.

Cadreth couldn't contain the burn he felt as her face bore directly into his eyes. Taking advantage of her pose, he cupped her sharp chin in his soft hands and descended onto her lips. Her regal air was forgotten to her as she accepted with no attempt to resist. She tasted the powdery eternity of instant love with each second she met him. Both shared the beautiful horror of this feeling reserved only for the frail and stupid which they both had vowed never to relent. Love will find anyone, no matter how hard one tries to hide from it, the fiend thought as they swirled in each other's spirit. Even in hell.

After what seemed like blissful years, Cadreth pulled away and saw that the evil maiden was still kissing him in the barren air. He had her in his designs, but she too was an astute captor and that didn't matter to him. As an incubus, he was failing miserably and he loved it. It was certain that he would need to employ some diligent convincing to his boss about how he felt and his new arrangement, but that plea would have to wait for the right time. Until then, the disgraced angel would enjoy Venn'lith Mitlan on this idyllic Earth with as much honesty as she would allow him. Their love was now under each other's will.

"Venn'lith," he whispered. "It's nearly time."

"Yes, it is," she hissed with love, unable to reopen her dark eyes from her living dream.

"Lith," he restated with dull composure. "I mean, the director wants you back on set. It's time to get back to shooting." With that, he laughed at her romantic misunderstanding and her confusion made him endeared to her all the more.

Her entranced face switched without a skip to one of rudely-awoken annoyance. The director of the commercial, she couldn't recall his name and didn't care to, was booming demands of his mirrorcasters to ready themselves for the next shot.

"Back to the set! All figures back to the set!" he grated with a screeching whine. The Xochian could not stand him. It didn't matter if he was an acclaimed director of major films or that this production was slated to be the most expensive commercial in manascreen history, this bleating tyrant was an idiot.

Not only was he an idiot, but he was the one to shatter the first tender moment Venn'lith had experienced - ever. Yes, there had been many males in her past, such as Ferd'inn Kokoff, but not one of them could compare to the raw existence of Cadreth. When she ruled elfdom's new home as an empress, he would be her king. She could save him from that dun planet of his with its black oceans and treat him to a life of lavish love that only she could supply. King Cadreth of Mitlan would suffice quite well as his royal title and, thus, she was settled on it.

"Lith! Can you hear me?" the director whined. "It's set call! We're going to lose the light! Move it!"

The maiden floated with calm menace over to the little director and halted herself when she made her way square in his face. "You raise your voice to me once more, you corpulent twit, and I'll see to it personally that you are _left behind_ with the orcs!" She ground her ivory-white teeth with a torque unlike ever before.

He could see that she wasn't joking one bit as his world-renowned face went bleach-white at the notion of being the only snack available on Earth for the inbound, bloodthirsty armada. He knew very well that she could make such a nightmare happen for him. Six months of waiting in loneliness on a doomed world with nothing to think about other than the first payload of invaders descending from the sky. "Eh, okay. Please take your spot, Prime Warden," he peeped, defeated.

A script assistant crept up to the maiden who was in perfect alignment with the mirrors. Venn'lith poised herself against the natural scenery of the burning Eastern Ocean; its waves rolling with gentle gold and crimson like a beachside paradise. Cadreth stood back and viewed her as the multicolored-shine of evening Earth fell over her bronze skin and settled across her toned form so naturally. She was so beautiful and he loved how her rich hair was simple and straight and long tonight like gravity-fed obsidian. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't dare to don such simplicity, but even the humble look suited her well. It only accentuated her honesty, which was an attribute that was all but alien to him and he loved it.

"Thelemex Advert: Take 5- _Action!_ "

As the Xochian recited her lines with ease, she focused her sights upon Cadreth who towered behind that annoying director. In all hope, she thought, her diverted attention would make for a happy accident once the shot had been cut and sent into the flow. What exactly was it about this creature that she was ready to surrender even an iota of power to? It was decided, he was beautiful, but so were many of the other Aldebarans, or elves for that matter. He was only as interesting as anyone else, she assumed, but there was something so unique about his ways. It was as if she could just listen to him in silence over the phone, not say a word and do nothing but exist. That would be perfect enough. Perhaps he ensorcelled her, but she decided that very moment to allow for it.

***

Down in the leafy belly of the God'runn estate, Sammian and the maiden who was once Minn'dre Harvatt were playing a civil game of orb chess on the giant crystal ball screen. Not long ago, this very room set the scene which had hosted the final performance of the ill-fated Gonduanna Princes.

"Hmm...Knight to pawn two, I think," Lucifer ruminated. "No! Knight to pawn five! Play!"

Sammian swirled the glowing round game before her and analyzed her boss's last move. She surmised that she would have to start playing on a deeper layer if she ever hoped to win this match. "Rook to bishop twelve! Ha!"

"Not bad!" the dark lord complimented with Minn'dre's lips. "Playing low I see. You give me a run for my gold here."

"Yes, this orb chess is pretty capital like that," Sammian decided as she spun the globe again. "So many levels and layers. We should definitely design one of these for imp chess when we get back home."

"Agreed," her master nodded. "Knight to rook twelve. Checkmate."

"Blast!" the peri wailed. "I never lose at this! It's just because it's a different topology. I would have totally whooped you had it been a proper game."

"Ah, but chess is chess, my love," Lucifer lectured. "Dimensionality should not be a factor. It can just make for a longer game, unless you know what you're doing, that is."

"Thanks boss, I'll remember that," she lamented as her wings drooped in defeat.

Sammian had been fumbling at ways to drop the ball with her liege all day long. When he found out that there was some competition to his schemes, he'd be forced to play chess for real with the Adversary. Lucifer only liked clean and easy sweeps when it came to a plan and Mavriel's arrival to this cosmic stage would put the screws to that idyllic condition for him. Everything had been going so well until today. Well, with the exception of that geek Travius and his inept assassination attempt.

"Eh, Lucifer?" she quipped.

"Yes, Sammian, what?"

"I think we have a real complication of our own now," she winced by reflex upon delivering the dreadful preamble. She didn't want to aggravate the boss, but he was at least in good spirits as he had won the chess game.

"Oh?" Minn'dre's ears shot up for him. "Do tell."

"Well, when I was at the Plaza earlier today, just roaming around," Sammian bit her lip in thought. "I ran into an old friend of ours from...before."

Lucifer rolled Minn'dre's eyes. He was growing weary of Sammian's bumbling. "Spit it out. Who was it?"

"Oh, just a little deva. You probably wouldn't remember him," Sammian flashed the boss a quick and nervous smile. "The one we called Mavriel back in the day."

"Oh," Lucifer rolled the name in his mind, trying to recall that one from the old choirs. Upon recollection, he shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, that one is just a mere footsoldier. Why, pray tell, is he here? You did get some information, yes?"

"I did!" Sammian announced with beaming pride. "Mavriel is on Earth to basically counter our plans," she mumbled with lighting quickness.

Minn'dre's head leaned in closer to Sammian as her tawny brows crunched down. "Sorry, Sammian, I-I didn't quite follow. Did you say that Mavriel is squatting on a perch to count bananas? Because if that's the case, allow him to go for it, by all means! Bananas are a nutritious and tasty food." Lucifer was now grinding Minn'dre's teeth as Sammian could feel the cold wave of hellish anger jump from her new master and into her nerves.

The peri looked down in fear and shame for her furtive blurting. "No, my lord. I said that Mavriel is here to counter your plans with Earth."

"How does the little bird deign to do this, Sammian?" The boss was close, very close to his prospective ward. "I mean, Mavriel is no slouch, but he isn't exactly a match for the myriad of demons we have in our employ. Explain."

"It's all asymmetrical," Sammian waved as if it were of no care. "It's only him and this 'chosen one.' Just a slip of an elfmaid to be exact. I'm sure we have nothing to fear."

Sammian was testing Lucifer's will and that was one infraction that he could not stand above any other. Secret societies and esoteric scholars of the infernal have written that he is insane, absurd, and operates without sense. Such accusations were the product of superstitious fishies and later, monkeys. The dark lord knew himself well and his machinations were not the chaotic whims these supposed intellectuals had surmised. Strategy and systems are his favorite ways to operate and even the most hermetic of plans could be felled by the force of a squeaking mouse such as Mavriel.

A growling from within Minn'dre's guts was rising out of her sinuses as her body sidled-in ever closer to the peri. The elfmaid's blue eyes went into a total blackout. Who...is...this...slip, Sammian?"

"Reyliss, my lord. Quen'die Reyliss is her name. S-She was applying for work at the docks." The fallen erelim's eyes were wide with fear and she made sure not to meet her master's pitch-black gaze of scorn. To do so could put her into immediate punishment once she had fallen in full. No sentence in the Inferno was light or easy to sit out from what she was told.

Blue eyes returned to the possessed maiden's face upon hearing Sammian's intel. Lucifer smiled with the female's lips causing Sammian to huff in relief. "Very well, Sammian. You did great work, my love, although I do wish you would have told me just a little bit sooner. From now on, you snitch and snitch and snitch the very _second_ you hear something like this. Agreed?"

"Yes, of course!" the peri was still poised in a scared-stiff position.

"Well, I need to alert our fellowship now that this situation has presented itself," Lucifer sauntered beyond the globe of the orbital screen. "I'll have to bother my little sister now, I suppose. No, that won't work for her. As if she doesn't already have enough on her plate. We shall work this out ourselves with the help of the locals. I had better check this maiden out myself to see if this is reliable intel. You said she was applying for the docks, yes?"

"Yes. Um, what am I to do, my lord?" Sammian braved.

Lucifer turned around with a sharp speed. Minn'dre's blond bang fell over half of her face and, for a moment, her splenetic scowl made her young face look like an old crone. He didn't want Glasya meddling into this, and, as she was not much for adaptation, this twist would only fluster her.

"Quen'die Reyliss...," he dug deep through the annals of his legions. "You will wait for my directive and you will execute it without hesitation when you are ordered. That is what you will do. For now, you will go to the Circle of Law. I think we may have an angle. Meet with an asura working there by the name of Quezz. When she hears the maiden's name, she will know exactly what to do. I must leave you now as I have some business to settle." With that, Lucifer glided down the hallway hewn from the tight and interlaced vines. Without skipping a step, he smacked down a vase lining the all-natural walls in frustration.
Perfect Prescription

### THELEMEX™

" **M** y dear people of Atlantis. I, Venn'lith Mitlan, as your Prime Warden of the Atlantean Youth Parliament have some great news for all of you! As we prepare our kingdom for an amazing journey through the stars, we need to prepare our bodies as well. Allow me to explain.

"The Taurian system is far away from Earth. Very far away. In order to reach these cosmic distances en mass, our most gracious arks employ a method of travel known as 'vibrational attunement.' 'What is this,' you might ask? Vibrational attunement is like a fold in space and time, much like the way our valiant godsrails work. The primary difference between our ships and these arks is the distance and number of passengers.

"Our nation's celestianauts are the fittest of the fit and have undergone years of diligent training to survive a multi-million-mile trip to the ill-fated planet of our aggressors. As I vow that nobody in all of elfdom will be left behind, our blessed friends of the Aldebaran Hegemony realize that not all of us are as strong as a celestianaut. Perhaps many of us are a little too old or a little too hefty, or you may even be suffering from a condition. This is not to be taken lightly as attunement can be rather harsh on the system.

"In order to combat the effects of this rigorous jaunt, we must prepare everyone and anyone with a simple solution devised and provided for by our Aldebaran friends. Thelemex™ is the answer to safely delivering each and every one of you to our new home.

"'What is Thelemex™,' you may also ask? This is a potion made from an Aldebaran element known as 'thelema' which is entirely safe for the elven system. Day and night, Aldebaran scientists and alchemists have been working on developing an agent which is safe and efficient for all of us, no matter what our deficiencies. Believe me when I say this, these guys are always thinking ahead.

"To administer Thelemex™, all you need to do is swallow one pill of this remarkable potion and you will be fit as a fiddle to make that trip which is so vital to all of us. Master alchemist Prince Stolas informs me that it even tastes pretty good; much like grapes. That'll go down well with the young ones, yes?

"Our Aldebaran allies will deliver a package of this potion to each and every one of your homes in the next few months. Be ready to receive it and keep it in a safe and cool environment so that it maintains its effectiveness.

"With such power comes great responsibility. The supply of Thelemex™ is limited, so remember to use it only when we are ready to attune on that terrific day in the month of Tenthmoon. This is a coordinated effort and on that brave and fateful moment in our history, we will be given the announcement to take this pill in unison, so that we can get on board to a wonderful tomorrow.

"The Princess Regent herself has ordered me to inform you personally that any attempt to indulge in this potion before we are directed will result in a harsh punishment. Every package of Thelemex™ is yours and yours only. I implore you; do not attempt to sell your package to anyone else. Such an infraction will also be punished with severity.

"No potion ever made is without side effects, so please listen closely to them at the end of this announcement. I assure you, Thelemex™ is generally not lethal and you will find its effects rather pleasant and totally safe.

"I, Prime Warden Venn'lith Mitlan, thank you for your attention and your support. I now leave you back to whatever broadcast you were enjoying, but it is my sworn duty to make certain that we all are prepared to make it safely and comfortably to our brand new home of tomorrow. With love, I present to you Thelemex™: the only choice for another day. Thank you."

### THELEMEX™

(Thelemex's possible side effects include, but are not limited to: extreme drowsiness, catarrh, ear twitching, tingling sensations, "brain zap," "wet brain," nausea, loss of feeling in extremities, extreme flatulence, blurred vision, hair loss, acne vulgaris, skin discoloration, weight loss, weight gain, lupus, homicidal feelings, suicidal feelings, inability to digest citrus foods, feelings of inordinate rage, feelings of inordinate depression, breast and/or ovarian cancers, hearing loss. Pregnant females may experience miscarriage upon ingestion of Thelemex™. Children under the age of twelve are approved to ingest Thelemex™, but may develop permanent sterility later on. Instant death by spontaneous combustion in the elderly is entirely possible. It doesn't matter, you have to take it anyway, so...)

Please remember to shop at **Medimana™** for all your pharmacological needs! Serving you and your family for over five hundred fifty quality years!
I'll Move for You

Bright blue light from Quen'die's control halo guided the hulking extramaton with ease as she had been driving the thing on the docks for over a month. At first, the maiden was unsure of her ability as the buzzing feeling of being connected to this waldo was an odd extension of her nervous system, much like driving a coach. Unlike a coach, she had to use her whole body to make the iron beast do everything that she wanted. Dancing and swirling and pantomiming her desires triggered the golem to do precisely the same gestures with nary a lag. She was thankful for all her years of runta playing, as the job was quite demanding on the body and her natural agility had proved her expertise in a short time.

As far as she could tell by the shipping invoices submitted by the acting foreman, she was loading crates upon crates of that Thelemex drug onto ships bound for wherever and not much else. Whatever "thelema" was, it had to be terrible, as it was a "natural" ingredient mined in the arks by the infernals themselves. She vowed never to even touch one of those dreadful pills with her bare hands. Of course, Venn'lith's constantly-played advertisement of the stuff assured the public that it was "totally safe," but she knew from Mavriel that it was nothing but paralyzing dope that would render any elf unconscious in a matter of hours. Waves of guilt coursed through her heart as she knew that what she was loading to homes around the globe was nothing more than the gateway to hell. The feeling was countered by the faith that somehow, at some time; she was "chosen" to interrupt this process, but thus far, no signs had presented themselves. Each day was the same as the last as all she did was work in the beating-hot Sixthmoon sun and joke around with the Zobbos.

"Hey Red!" Face bellowed over to her from behind some thick netting. "Or should I say 'Green?'"

Quen'die's sensitive pearly skin required her to slather on a minty green sunshield each day to ward off an instant burn. Sedge hats were just not enough to combat the ever-shining light and heat as she was out in the middle of it for eight hours a day. The goop smelled like peppermint and after a couple of weeks of application before every shift, she just couldn't fully wash off the scent. It wasn't all that bad of a stink, but its intensity and candy-like odor was akin to a young maiden's first perfume.

"Face, you call me 'Green' one more time and I'll sic Jugger on you!" she shot back as she rolled her eyes. After such time on the docks, her attitude was becoming saltier and her skin thicker. There was no way an egotistical silver spoon like Venn'lith could survive one day amongst the Zobbos and the other dock workers as they were a rough lot and nothing but smack came out of their brave mouths. Respect was measured and earned by the smack given back. A sensitive type was an assured recipe for failure on the docks.

"All right, you win," the Zobbo relented. "I don't need a repeat of the last time you had to snitch to your golem."

"That's right, Face!" she laughed as she swung Jugger around to fetch another crate of hell-dope. "We thought you got washed away by the drink after he chased you off the pier!"

"Whatever, Dee, I could'a licked him if I knew how to drive one of those." He made sheepish, puppy eyes. "It isn't fair! You have too much of an advantage with the big lug."

"Face!" Rob'yss Dell'lavio barked from out of the foreman's shanty's tiny window. A mere week ago, the elder Zobbo had been promoted to junior foreman and relished in the permissions to boss his younger brother around. "Get back to work! You have plenty of time to play with your _novienne_ after the shift is over!"

To that, a chorus of hoots and whistles erupted from the other dockworkers. "Whoo-hoo! Go get her, Face!"

"All right, all right," his younger brother waved off the catcalls with a blushing shake of his head as he swung himself out from behind the netting.

The Zobbo had to admit that he had been looking at Quen'die in a new light for the last couple of weeks. Until the recent past, he had thought she was a bit of a nerd, but she was winning his favor and fast since she knew how to put up and deal with his childish antics. She was becoming tough and he liked that about her, plus she was good at what she did to the point that it was frightening. It seemed to him as if she had been born with a control halo strapped to her red head. He confessed to himself that she looked pretty good in the flimsy wrangler robes, even if her skin was a bright green hue. Perhaps referring to her as his _novienne_ for real one day wouldn't be that much of a stretch, he thought.

The maiden brushed off the incident as she had Jugger stack more crates onto a large liner bound for Thuless'in. The sun was winding down to a salmon glow and that meant it was almost the time to punch out. As for Face, under normal circumstances, Quen'die might have entertained the idea of going out with him on a trial basis, but since the world was under demonic attack and she was one of the very few to realize it, those kinds of banal desires would have to wait until things got back to normal. Since no true signs of anything important had crossed her senses, she wasn't sure that normalcy would ever present itself again. With each and every crate she stacked, and as each day came closer to Tenthmoon, the bad guys were nearing their sick victory. It made her ill to know that she was contributing to their schemes.

At quitting time, she parked Jugger with care into his upright sarcophagus in the golem shed and hung up her halo. Half a dozen of the iron beasts were standing at attention as each of the handlers had turned in their waldos for the evening. The crowded shed looked like a dilapidated museum full of immense statues from some forgotten civilization.

"Has anyone seen my sunshield?" Quen'die yelled out in the locker room. "Stop playing around, guys! You know I need it!"

"No, sorry," a fellow handler by the name of Minnie blithely stated as she sauntered past. "Just go to the company shop and get some more. It's not expensive."

Whatever, thought the grey elfmaid. She didn't like Minnie and thought she was downright strange ever since her first day on the job. She too was a recent acquisition on the docks and began her first day not long after Quen'die. The maiden figured they might have applied for the job on the same day over a month ago. She had admitted to knowing On'dinn Jak'sin and claimed they used to be friends, and Quen'die did recall him speaking about her once or twice.

Minnie was always brusque with her and a bit haughty, like she came from the beachside neighborhoods. The really odd thing about her was that she always seemed to be watching her. Quen'die couldn't tell if she wanted to be friends, but was too shy to approach, or if she had some strange jealousy for her. So many maidens were like that. For no apparent reason, they got envious about something or other and wanted to fire up the drama. Minnie may have been sweet on Face and resented Quen'die because of his attentions for her, she guessed.

Either way, Minnie was terrible at her job, as if she was almost afraid of her golem. Perhaps she was sore at Quen'die for being so much better at her duties. Her natural ability with wrangling was common knowledge on the docks and the foreman loved her for it. He was almost like a surrogate father in her opinion and he even snuck extra rations onto her calorie card. The maiden figured that she deserved it since she had just made top loader for the month. It was nice to eat a decent meal once again and Nanna appreciated that as well.

As Quen'die drove home, she thought about stopping over at On'dinn's. The elf had been rather scarce ever since the day of the job fair as he was supposed to have a position with the Sea and Shell working with a community food distribution for the Youth Parliament Program. Such a job was right up his alley as he was always going on about food for the masses and whatnot. Because they were both so busy as of late, it was a rare event that they spoke and Quen'die didn't even have the opportunity to inform him that she was working with one of his friends.

When she came to the municipal checkpoint which blocked her entrance to downtown, she noticed the familiar auburn topknot of one of the wardens manning the portable station. It was Lauryl'la and she was out waving coaches into the city's innards. Sitting atop the warden's trailer like he had conquered it was one of the infernals. His wings were flapping with intermittent pulses in the evening breeze while he was carving a little statuette out of wood to alleviate the boredom of his duty. Quen'die was thankful that she didn't have a bevy of those beasts supervising her job. It was almost as if they avoided the docks and none of them even delivered the crates of Thelemex to be shipped off.

Lauryl'la was taking the job seriously. Way too seriously. Coming from a police family, it was natural that she was the suspicious and skeptical type, but now that she was doing the police work herself, she was no better than the worst of the bulls. In the back of her mind, Quen'die was grateful that her father had chickened-out and decided against joining a civil cadre.

Ahead of her buggy, a fellow motorist hovered just a little too far past the security perimeter, only mere inches, and Lauryl'la slammed her truncheon down hard on its bonnet. "Get out! Get out of the coach _now_!"

Gods, thought Quen'die. This was not going to be good, as she could see that her old friend had let the power go to her head. Considering that she wasn't in Lauryl'la's peanut gallery anymore, the maiden assumed that tonight's passage to her neighborhood would not be a quick and easy one. If Lauryl'la behaved that way once she got some responsibility, Quen'die felt a bit grateful that they weren't friends anymore.

After Lauryl'la had let the shaken, pudgy motorist lined-up before her off the hook, he sped away in relief from the checkpoint and into the emerging lights of downtown. Quen'die felt a bit sick as she knew that an equal, if not worse, of a hard time was in the cards for her.

"Well, if it isn't Quen'die Reyliss," Lauryl'la groaned with some menace. With an almost immediate reaction, the demon on the roof of the trailer ceased whittling his new toy and stared the elfmaid down with intent upon hearing the bullock utter her name.

"Uh, Hey, Rylla," Quen'die greeted with a nervous stammer.

"It's Warden Hay'cenn to you!" Lauryl'la boomed with angry pride. "Where you going?"

"Well, _Warden Hay'cenn_ , I was just going home to overdose on lotus juice, if it's any of your concern," Quen'die couldn't resist giving Lauryl'la a huge slice of humble pie.

"Probable cause!" she barked. "Step out of the vehicle!"

What a total geek, lamented Quen'die to herself. Sure, they had played _wardens and raiders_ back when they were little elflings and, to be honest, Lauryl'la was much more sensible about police work back then. This was going to be rich, thought the maiden.

"Got any dope? Any contraband? Anything that you could stick me with?" Her ex-friend interrogated as she patted her down. Quen'die didn't know how to react to this revolting situation. She felt violated as the little bull was handling her in ways that was brutal and demeaning. It was most certain, such groping wasn't government policy and the redhead was feeling even sicker the longer Lauryl'la continued the humiliating search.

"No boss, you're gravy," Quen'die moaned with sarcasm. She wasn't about to let her old mate get the best of her. At least she wouldn't let Lauryl'la know it anyway. It was quite apparent to Quen'die that she was getting her jollies by lording over not just a new rival but _anyone_.

"Ebolux! Check this buggy for lotus juice, please!" Lauryl'la shot up to the infernal who obliged in one literal fell-swoop off the trailer.

"You're good to go here," Ebolux confirmed with a perfunctory look in the buggy's cabin. The demon flashed Lauryl'la a thumbs-up and power-jumped back onto his makeshift perch only to continue sculpting the little figure.

"Get out of here, and don't cause any trouble!" Lauryl'la sneered. "And word to the wise, watch your lip with the wardens, Quen'die Reyliss!"

"Watch your lip, indeed!" the elfmaid chewed on Lauryl'la's idle warning as she drove through the downtown neighborhoods. The traffic was backed up as always because of all the checkpoints, and those frequent stalls gave Quen'die plenty of time to think. Why could she not see her old friend's potential for such a horrendous attitude before? The more she thought about it, Lauryl'la was rather pushy throughout the tenure of their friendship. Sure, there was a pecking order to all types of relationships between people, but she had always seemed to make sure that she secured the upper hand over Quen'die in anything they had ever done.

Despite feeling beaten, the elfmaid felt sorry for Lauryl'la as she stood there barking like a loon in her red junior warden outfit with her inflated sense of purpose. Frankly, she thought, I'd rather wear green sun-goop every day and play with puppets than swirling around traffic checks with my little stick.

Staving off the brewing tears of resentment and pure embarrassment of that assaulting frisk, Quen'die steered the buggy down her home street and, at once, felt the warm glow of home wash over her. It would be so nice to just take the night off from any more worries and perhaps watch the screen with On'dinn and Nanna. When she considered that the screen played nothing but announcements featuring Venn'lith or newscasts praising the harbingers of elfdom's doom, perhaps that wasn't such a grand idea. Either way, work was as entertaining as usual and she vowed not to mope around because the petty tyrant had ego problems.

***

On'dinn stared at her as confused as he was on the first day he had learned that she was his new neighbor. Quen'die forgot, in all actuality, how long it had been since she had seen him and supposed that he might not have been able to recognize her as she had achieved a weak tan and had at last built the pounds of muscle she had been craving for the past three years. Working on the docks had been serendipitous in helping her achieve some of her goals. Face was right, the docks were way better than assisting the health wardens.

"Wow, Quen'die!" he said as he adjusted his eyes to the dusky light of the flatblock's old hallway. "It really has been a while. You look like, well...transformed or something."

Quen'die too had noticed On'dinn that had changed a bit. First, she could have sworn that he grew over an inch in the last month and his ridiculous short hair was finally growing back to a modern fashion. On'dinn, being On'dinn, had failed to dye the black out, so he sported blond hair on the top which tapered down into black tips. The maiden thought it looked rather hilarious. "Same to you, 'Two-Tone.'"

"Oh, yeah...that," he brushed the bi-color atop his head with some embarrassment. "I've been meaning to get that fixed-up. I just wanted to settle into the new job and stuff. Maybe when we hit the new planet, I'll be the first person to get a haircut there. How'd you like that? Anyway, yeah, you look great. Eh, that's what I meant by 'transformed.'"

On'dinn was all but unaware of the real destination of these so-called Aldebarans. She liked the guy just fine, but she didn't know him all that well when it came down to it. For all she knew, he could be sweet on one of those demons. They were quite beautiful and alluring in their own way. It was no wonder so many of their personalities were almost like celebrity-status amongst the elves. All over the manacloud, full sites were being built in honor of them to where it seemed like each one of these hellish beings had a fanpage. Regardless, On'dinn, ever being the skeptic, would never dare believe her if she dropped the crushing ball about his dreams of barbering on another world, she surmised.

"Well, why don't you transform your location up to my flat and we can watch the screen or something," the maiden suggested. "I'm so bored right now and I have some stuff to tell you about stupid Rylla. I mean, don't you just want to take a break from all this surreality and just pretend like it's the way everything was before the pyramids? Just for a day?"

"That sounds like a plan and a half!" his ears were twitching with glee. "I have all these leftovers from work and we can pig out on them. I've got mince cakes, squid rolls, elderberry muffins, lingonberry muffins, and these awesome apple latkes. I'll even give some to Madame Orsi."

They decided to summon a movie after eating some of the latkes with Nanna. She wanted to retire early for the night and trusted the two teens to their own devices. They decided on an old wacky comedy by the name of _Caidhul Doesn't Believe in Tears;_ something that wouldn't remind them of anything going on in the tragic world outside. The pair hoped beyond hope that the government wouldn't cut into their film with some late-breaking news which was certain to feature Quay'liss Dalian, or even that beast Venn'lith.

Quen'die turned to On'dinn who was propped like a lazy cat against the foot of Nanna's antique sofa. "Hey, On'dinn?"

"Hay is for horses. Sometimes for cows."

Ignoring his childish comeback, she asked, "Do you work with any of those demon, er, Aldebarans at the Sea and Shell?"

"No, not really," he answered after some concerted thought. "From what I can tell, they don't really seem too interested in food distribution. They look to be more concerned in sniffing around military and civil warden installations. Maybe medical stuff too. To be honest, I kind of fret over that. I mean, isn't it more important that the people have food over weapons? I understand that we're under this invasion and all, but the orcs aren't even here and won't be until well after we have left. So, really, what's with all the blood thirst?"

Quen'die took that question under serious consideration as well. She wanted in the worst way to denature their identities to him, but she arrested that urge with a quick bite to her tongue. "Yeah, they don't seem to care about shipping either. I've been working at the Docks for over a month now and they don't even do flyovers. Heh, it's like they're afraid of the place or something."

"Doubt it," he said with a blunt chirp. "I figure they're just...," his assessment was interrupted as was their film by yet another special breaking report from the government-controlled media.

"Oh no!" they wailed in unison. "Not again!" To that, the two began laughing. Quen'die loved it when such synchronous moments occurred. That would happen with her and Lauryl'la all the time, as if the twain had shared a brain.

### BREAKING NEWS!

"Good evening Atlantis! This is Quay'liss Dalian and I am here at the 12E loading docks on the banks of Corosa City's illustrious shore! Tonight, a terrible event has transpired as the entire dock has been hit with an agent which is gumming-up the waters with manafoam!"

"Gods!" cried Quen'die. "That's my dock! I just came back from there!"

"Shhh..," On'dinn gestured with one finger up. He leaned in closer to the screen as the maiden followed suit.

"Right now, the city's civil wardens are working diligently with the ADF to investigate the nature of the incident. This is serious folks, as Dock 12E is solely responsible for the shipping of vital Thelemex to the rest of the world! With me now is detective sergeant Venda Hay'cenn of the Docks District command."

"Good evening, Quay'liss," Lauryl'la's mother began with a brusque nod. She was dressed in full armor with her visor raised. The look on her face was professional, cold and stern, like a statue of some grim forefather who had been the sole survivor of a terrible battle nestled within elfdom's ancient history.

"That's Rylla's mother!" Quen'die shrieked. "I totally know her!"

"So, Detective Hay'cenn," Dalian prodded. "Do you have any leads regarding this unfortunate incident?"

"It's terrorism and sabotage; pure and simple," she blurted with unfaltering stoniness. "And a sloppy attempt of it at that! Thus far, we have found the broken container of the foam-bomb with the identity of the attacker stenciled all over it."

"What does it read, Detective?" Dalian leaned her mic in further for the best audio.

"The stencil reads 'BH2,' which we can only deduce is a continuance of those morons in the Black Hood Group." Detective Hay'cenn paused for a dramatic effect. "They didn't want us to go to Mars and, apparently, they don't want us to travel to our new home. Well, that's just not going to happen if I can help it!"

"Gods, On'dinn!" Quen'die turned to him, wide-eyed. "You'll get blamed again!"

Before the young elf could react to Quen'die's supposition, Detective Hay'cenn dropped a bomb of her own on both of them as well as the rest of Atlantis. After a moment of listening into her comm, Lauryl'la's mother announced the unthinkable. "Right, Commander. This just in: we now have the identity of the main culprit."

A split second after uttering the update, a full-color image of Quen'die smiling a big grin and holding a beach ball on the shores of Hidden Lake, which was taken by her mother the summer before, splashed across the wide manascreen. On'dinn thought she looked so beautiful until the reason she was advertised on the broadcast hit them. "This suspect's name is Quen'die Ferd'inna Reyliss."

"Oh my gods! What's happening? What do I do?" She couldn't even think with any proper sense. Tears burst forth from her eyes in tandem with the foul bolts of icy terror that ran up her back.

"We had found a bag of sunshield with her name stenciled on it right next to the bomb. What an idiot!" Lauryl'la's mother shook her head in disgust. "I am ashamed to say that I know this maiden from the neighborhood. I just can't believe that such a sweet elfmaid would get caught up in this kind of nonsense."

On'dinn turned to Quen'die in a lightning-stroke. "Grab your emergency bag. I know where we can go, but we can't drive. And whatever you do, don't use your phone. They can track you and they'll know your identification!"

"What do you mean?" she was still dripping with fear and sadness.

"Travius supplied us with safe houses when I was in the Black Hood," he demonstrated by forming a rooflike triangle with his hands. "Just in case things got too hot."

"Yeah, but don't the wardens know all about you guys by now?" Quen'die reasoned in a frantic huff.

"Heh, maybe so, but not these places! Travius hypnotized us so that the memories of them would not surface under the biomana," he swirled his finger next to his temple as if he were crazy. "We were assigned to them four apiece and never did any cell know about the others. I'll take you to mine and I'll feed you with the tons of leftovers I get from Sea and Shell."

"Okay, but you have to watch over Nanna. I can't just leave her like this!" Quen'die stood up and hovered over her potential savior. "What do I do after that? I can't hide in some shack forever!"

On'dinn bit his lip in stern thought. "I'll worry about all of that until you get cleared. Look, I know you had nothing to do with this and you'll be cool soon, but until then, we have to hide you out. Just until this blows over."

This plan was tenuous at best, thought Quen'die, but she was not about to spend a night of interrogation in a dark dungeon. "Okay, I'm sold; I'll grab my bag, but then what?"

"We can walk to the tram!" On'dinn snapped. "It's close and we still have time before curfew." The air was so heavy and oppressive for the both of them. On'dinn, however, seemed to be enjoying the whole thing, but Quen'die felt only mortal terror.

The maiden grabbed the hefty bag of supplies as suggested by her government and stood in the old cherrywood archway of the living room. On'dinn found her newly-toned body hefting the bulky load to be ever the more beautiful and he couldn't help but pause.

"Okay, now let's go!"
gmc.thepoplist.flo

**F** orums>>Main>>News>>Breaking

Badelf1

222 Posts

Member: We are totally in the soup! This is a banger. I just saw the coverage on the AEN and terrorists have bombed the docks! They said it's another faction of the Black Hood.

GPrince20

1,450 Posts

Boss Member: That's so five minutes ago, Badelf. It's definitely been confirmed. It was on the dock that was shipping Thelemex.

Fairymaid89

2,002 Posts

Queen Bee

MODERATOR: Link please or this forum's closed.

Badelf1

223 Posts

Member: My bad, Fairy: <<gmc.aenofficial.flo/news/breaking./>>

Fairymaid89

2,003 Posts

Queen Bee

MODERATOR: Thanks, babe.

Riverwind73

45 Posts

Junior Member:OMGs! I can't believe it! My little brother was talking about it, but I missed the broadcast cuz I was with my friend Dookie and we were getting a bite at Managrill, but they don't have screens there and we had to get back before curfew cuz I was SO SICK of those rations. But yeah, this is for real.

Manabolt75

330 Posts

Member: I just saw the video on the link. The docks are completely gummed-up! The goopy stuff's all pink and the ships are stuck in the jetties!

Godsrailler

2110 Posts

Boss Member: This is NOT good. We'll never get it cleaned up in time. We're finished. Total game over. Orc food for sure.

GPrince20

1,451 Posts

Boss Member: Way to be defeatist, Godsrailler. We can always use another dock. It's not the end of the world.

Wiseblood79

226 Posts

Member: You obviously know nothing about logistics, GPrince. Firstly, Corosa City IS the biggest port city in the entire world. Secondly, Atlantis is the ONLY kingdom that is producing Thelemex. The Aldebarans only have a limited amount of material to make enough for all of elfdom, and since we are the most centrally-located continent on the globe, it is only natural that they would choose us.

GPrince20

1,452 Posts

Boss Member: Okay, Smartypants79, er, I mean Wiseblood. Why don't they just move the shipping of the drug to another dock? You are just full of yourself and are trying to doomsay again. I get so tired of you awfulizing everything.

Wiseblood79

227 Posts

Member: It's a cold hard fact, GPrince. We have a whopping four or five months to reconfigure the docks PLUS allow for those ports to ship enough Thelemex to over a billion elves worldwide when they are already shipping other goods.

Manabolt75

331 Posts

Member: I agree with Wiseblood. The other docks have to ship food and weapons and all other types of goods. There's no way they could reconfigure them all in time. I smell a lottery coming. There will be those who are lucky to get on the arks and those who pick the shorter straws are orc chow. That dock was a dedicated Thelemex port and now we don't have it!

Badelf1

224 Posts

Member: Heh, you mean those who can AFFORD it get on the arks. There's no way Prime Warden Venn'lith is getting left out of a posh seat. Shoot, she probably gets her own first-class quarters!

Wiseblood79

228 Posts

Member: This is true. Maybe even an entire ark!

Noopystudd

3,005 Posts

Suspected Troll: Chuq No'ryss could clean up those docks all by himself with a straw and ask for seconds!

Scrolling Thunder

478 Posts

Member: Go away Noopy, nobody likes you and Chuq jokes are older than your mother. This is serious! Troll.

Noopystudd

3,006 Posts

Suspected Troll: I am NOT a troll! I know Quen'die Reyliss personally! She's my best friend's sister. I could totally see her doing this because she's insane and she sucks.

Scrolling Thunder

479 Posts

Member: Noopy, you're a liar and you don't really have any friends. Go back and play video games, will you? Maybe help your _mama_ with the dishes.

Noopystudd

3,007 Posts

Suspected Troll: I don't live with my " _mama_ ," _Trolling Thunder_. I am an investment warden and I live in a condo Downtown. AND I don't need Thelemex to make the trip anyway. I'm buff.

Scrolling Thunder

480 Posts

Member: Noops, Sweetie. I know you are still in novice school at the most. You even admitted this fact on an older forum about how much _Golem Smash 4_ sucks and how your _mama_ wouldn't refund your _allowance_ when you whined and cried about how much you hated it. Investment banker=Seriously?

Fairymaid89

2,004 Posts

Queen Bee

MODERATOR: Noopystudd and Scrolling Thunder, you are both blocked for the evening. Play by the rules. This is some serious business here and we need the flow open for _serious_ discussion. You do this nonsense again and you guys are permabanned.

Sammi666

1 Posts

Peeweepop: Hi everybody! This is my first post! I am a representative for the Aldebaran Hegemony. I must inform you that we are working with your authorities on getting everything back in shape in a timely manner. Please do not worry yourselves over this. There will be no lottery and everybody on Earth will have the chance to receive Thelemex as well as a seat on an ark. Thank you.

Wiseblood79

229 Posts

Member: Bull! I call bull. You aren't an Aldebaran. Why would any of your kind bother getting on poplist if you have all this stuff to do? Especially now that this operation is under siege by terrorists? AND if you are indeed Aldebaran, I have no clue as to how you could conceivably clean this mess up in time. It all makes no sense, "Sammi666." Looks like we are going to have our fair share of trolls tonight.

Fairymaid89

2,005 Posts

Queen Bee

MODERATOR: It checks out, Wiseblood. I have monitored her post and it's coming directly from the Palace's mcsp! Greetings Sammi666! Good to have you with us.

Minniedevil

343 Posts

Member: Hey, everybody. I do indeed work with Quen'die Reyliss down on the same dock. I can tell you all about it. Earlier today, she was playing all dumb and asked me where her sunshield bottle was cuz she's all pasty-white and her skin burns easily. Anyway, she was looking at me strangely, like always, but all day she was acting really suspicious and edgy. Lo and behold, authorities found her bottle of sunshield next to the bomb casing. Pathetic!

GPrince20

1,453 Posts

Boss Member: Are you a golem handler there? The report said that Quen'die is a golem handler or something like that.

Minniedevil

344 Posts

Member: I am. Quen'die pretty much kept to herself and did her work. I don't know all that much about her, but she didn't get along really well with any of the other workers, in case you were wondering. She would always shoot me dirty looks and mean-mug me and stuff.

Manabolt75

332 Posts

Member: Well, she IS a _terrorist_! What do you expect!

Smoothwalker

424 Posts

Member: You are gonna hate me for this, but Quen'die Reyliss=HOT! I just saw that picture link. I know it might sound bad, but she is absolutely gorgeous!

Wiseblood79

230 Posts

Member: Uh, Earth to Smoothwalker! Like Manabolt just said, she's a _terrorist_! She's solely responsible for sealing our fate, son. Beautiful, yes, but deadly.

Smoothwalker

425 Posts

Member: I know! How can evil be so hot? Besides, that Aldebaran just posted personally that everything was going to be okay. Just sayin'...

Badelf1

225 Posts

Member: You're nuts, Smoothwalker. I say that we leave her and Travius and all those Black Hood freaks to the orcs! I don't care what she looks like! She could be getting us all killed. Unless, like I said, you can afford it.

Minniedevil

345 Posts

Member: Smoothwalker, this is serious. Quen'die Reyliss is definitely dangerous and you should really develop a different taste in maidens.

Sammi666

2 Posts

Peeweepop: Everybody, please do not worry. I am working personally with the ADF in tracking her and any of her comrades down right at this moment. That's why I am on the manacloud. We will bring her in for questioning and get to the bottom of this. Please refrain from sparking conspiracies about lotteries and paying your way onto the arks. You will all get a seat, guaranteed, and it will most assuredly be free of charge. Thank you.

Fairymaid89

2,006 Posts

Queen Bee

MODERATOR: All right everybody, you heard it from an official channel. Just sit back and relax. Before any more doom-mongering floods this forum, I'm going to close it. Keep in flow for any more developments and I'll post them as soon as I get them. A special thanks to Sammi666 for defusing any drama here. It would be kind of nice to get some sleep for once.
Mother's Little Monster

**T** here was little time before the curfew would commence when On'dinn dragged Quen'die onto the Corosa City Loop Liner, which served as the city's main tram system. Already, sorties of flitcycles were barking their reminders of the martial order over their PA's from high above the downtown streets. With each buzzing announcement, Quen'die let out a small reactive shriek as she was certain it was a bull revealing her location from overhead.

The tram was suspended from an overhanging track dotted with manaballs which circuited the neighborhoods and On'dinn's secret "safehouse" was only a couple of stops from Nanna's. As far as Quen'die was concerned, it may as well have been on the moon. She felt so sick knowing that she would be taking an unknown respite from society, while On'dinn somehow seemed be having a vicarious thrill.

"Okay, it's just one more stop!" He poked his head out the window of the speeding carriage as the downtown lights whipped past in a swirl of color and night.

"You sound a little too chuffed about this, On'dinn." Quen'die was sitting low in her booth just in the horrible event that one of the cyclejocks flew next to her window and identified her.

"What? On no, that's not it, I just **...** " the lad frowned. "Look, you should seriously stop slouching and act normal or someone might get suspicious."

"On'dinn, I'm not exactly inconspicuous," she informed him as she adjusted her sedge hat over her eyes. "My hair is unnaturally red and that's a dead giveaway around here. If we lived in a Thuless'in province, I think we could get away with it more easily."

"Yeah," he groaned. "We probably should have dyed it before setting out."

The maiden's eyes bulged with fright and anger at the notion. "No way! My hair goes all the way down my back! It would take hours to do that! And I'm not cutting it off like you did! Maidens never cut their hair that short; even five hundred years ago!"

The lad slunk back at that. "Er, Sorry. I was just saying..."

Minutes later, the tram's PA announced their stop with its musical crackle, _"Next stop, Sixth and Bonn'fyr. Next stop, Sixth and Bonn'fyr. Please remember to check your personal belongings and watch your step when alighting. Have a pleasant evening. Thank you._ "

The elf took her hand and her emergency baggage. Quen'die thought he looked like a malnourished pack mule and that made her laugh inside for a second. "Oh, On'dinn, such the kind lord."

"I aim to please," he said in his typical wry manner. "Just act naturally. We need to keep cool about this. We're so close that we're pretty much home-free already."

Perhaps it was safe, but it was not much of a house. The dismal area that On'dinn had been assigned to back when he was "infiltrating" the Black Hood was a disused service station for an old manaspring. How long it had been defunct was anyone's guess, and Quen'die wondered if even Nanna was alive when it was last in operation. It was secured with a rusty lock and On'dinn had the key.

"Here we are! Your new home!" the lad boomed, imitating a posh estate warden.

"Droll," Quen'die moaned as she looked around her new confines. It was better than a cramped dungeon cell, it was decided, but not by much. The area was somewhat large and could accommodate the four designated Black Hoods with ease had the need arose. There was even a small manahearth and refrigerator in a tiny office adjoined to the gutted station. Of course, nothing worked, including the overhead lights as the space was no longer in the powerflow.

"Um, On'dinn," she skewed her brows in consternation much like her mother often would. "How exactly am I going to see in this place? I don't possess low-light vision, you know."

"Travius said there are some lanterns in the lockers in the office," the lad pointed to another adjacent room. "Those are powered by dumb mana, so they don't need to be in the flow. Look, I know this sucks, but I'll be back every day to check on you and this won't be for long. I know you didn't do any of this, and by the time the bulls find the true culprit, they'll let you off the hook."

The ominous gloom of the safehouse was so heavy and it became all the more terrible as her eyes adjusted to its dimensions. This was just not what she was ready for when she awoke earlier that day. Unlike her male partner, she wasn't a trained activist or terrorist or anything of the sort. "On'dinn, I don't like this. I can't do this. No way."

"Dee, it is what it is and you are just going to have to deal with it for a little bit," he plopped their bags down on a ratted chair. "I've had to hide out before after protests and all kinds of happenings with Travius. I assure you, it's never for long."

"Things were different back then!" she protested. "We're under martial law now and there are these _things_ flying around from another dimen, er, planet! I'm sure Lith set me up; I know it! But if I just turn myself in, the bulls will put me under biomana and I'll be in the clear! I want to do that instead."

"Quen'die," On'dinn put his arm around her shoulders. "If Lith is behind all of this, and you may be right about that, I don't think a mere biomana scanner is going to clean your ticket. The best way to your freedom is to sit this out until an actual investigation confirms you aren't involved. Bulls may be bulls, but they are also good at what they do, I am somewhat reluctant to admit."

"Gods! Why can't this be easy! Why can't I just go back to work tomorrow!" her echo wailed through the dull air of the abandonment around them.

"Shh!" On'dinn crouched as if a bolt of red mana was a hair's-width away from blowing his head off. "Not so loud! We're right next to population! You're totally going to need to keep your noise level down to a minimum while you're here."

Quen'die groaned with a dejected slunk of her shoulders. The lad was right, she figured. If she turned herself in, Venn'lith would supervise the whole scan, to be sure, and cook the reports to frame her. Bombing the docks to sabotage the exodus effort had to be a capital offense; of this the maiden was certain.

On'dinn was rummaging through her satchel and feeling around in its bulk. "There they are!" he announced.

"Hey! What are you doing in my stuff?" Quen'die shrieked, ignoring the lad's advice about keeping quiet. "Don't you know you should never go through a lady's satchel?"

"I know this!" the lad rang, disobeying his own advice as well. "But I need your phone and your tablet. I told you they were tracking devices. I'm going to have to take them so you don't get tempted to use them. More than likely, you would just get a government announcement informing you that you've been busted."

The young elf was right. Quen'die wanted more than anything to get on the horn and begin calling everyone the very moment he left her alone in that dark place. The feeling was almost like a hardwired response coursing through her nervous system. It was as if she were compelled without any mind to summon up Mavriel or her father to tell them all about what had happened. She wished beyond all wishes that she could even call her mother, but that lady was one of the "bad guys." A sick feeling in the maiden's gut told her that Mother might somehow be enjoying this just because that awful report would aid in confirming Venn'lith's lies about her character. To Mother, Quen'die Reyliss was a bully, a professional, and a terrorist to boot.

Mavriel. He would know what to do, and there was no way that he could not have known about this terrible accusation by then. It was all over the newsscrolls and screens across the kingdom, perhaps even the world. There would be little wait before the deva would come swooping down on silver wings to her rescue and with all hope, salvation.

"On'dinn!" Quen'die all but knocked the lad over in desperation. "Find my friend Mavriel! You remember him from the party at Sig'ryn's, right? You have to tell him where to find me!"

"Oh, yeah, he was pretty capital," On'dinn changed his tone in an instant. "No! We can't let anyone know about where you are until this blows over! This safehouse has to remain totally secret. As far as we're concerned, only you and I know about this place."

"But it isn't like that!" the maiden threw up her arms. "He's helping me out and...," she bit her bottom lip as she lied. "And he's my _novion_!"

To that, On'dinn halted. "You and Mavriel? When did that happen?"

"Eh, a little while ago," she blurted. She didn't feel like going into idle school gossip regarding novions and noviennes. "He got me that job. Kind of."

On'dinn's eyes lit up with the paranoia of a thousand directions. "In that case, he could be in on all of this! Who knows what that guy is all about! No way! As far as I'm concerned, that lad is nothing but one of my prime suspects into all of this! He may even be working for Lith and you are not the wiser!"

Such a suggestion made the elfmaid even more ill. On'dinn was definite to be wrong about that, but there was no way that Quen'die figured she could destroy his conviction. She regretted with heart her adding the part about him getting her the docks job. "I don't believe that, but you're going to do what you're going to do."

"What I'm going to do," the lad straightened himself up, "is I'm going to get on out of here before I get nabbed for curfew or you successfully change my mind about this plan. I'm being serious here. This is going to work out and what we're doing is the right thing. I've been trained in the art of hiding out and this is the best bet you have. When I had to hide out after Travius tried to kill the king, I wasn't lucky enough to make it here because some freak knocked me out and left me in a barn miles away, but still, I made it through. And let me tell you, that place stunk!"

Looking at the dank and barren station house, Quen'die felt herself relenting to the new digs. It was time to commence the operation and not be a little elfling about it. Listening closely, her large and sensitive ears picked up the ping of a squeak. Yes, she lamented, there were rats or at least mice in there. Sleep was certain not to happen that night and all she would be able to do is eat, wait, and worry. What a horrible development.

"Okay, On'dinn, do what you must, but come back tomorrow!" she said with pleading eyes that shone blue in the gloom. "I'm going to go crazy in here all by myself!"

"Don't worry; I'll be here right after I get off work. I'll even have some goodies from the S and S." He picked up her bag and satchel and plopped them down on the surface of a dusty old workbench. "I know this place isn't the honeymoon suite of the Hyl'tenn, but you'll be safe here. Why do you think they call it a safehouse anyway?"

At that, the maiden shook her crimson head. "Jak'sin, you're a better roustabout than a comedian. Don't quit your day job."

"Touché," he smiled as he crouched down like a special agent in a spy movie and shimmied out the side door without a sound into the night. Quen'die felt so alone in so many ways.

Every noise in that substation echoed like it was flowed through an amplifier. Outside, the crickets were singing in overtime and the number of squeaking sounds in the facility was ever increasing as the moon rose. Not relishing the idea of one of the little rodents crawling all over her, Quen'die situated herself on top of a workbench and began digging through her satchel. Again, by reflex and habit alone, the maiden felt the bare space in the bag's depths and despaired to find no phone or tablet. It was like a double amputation as far as she was concerned.

As most teen maidens went, Quen'die was not as dependent upon the company of others as were some of her contemporaries. It was true, she was no pariah amongst her peers, but unlike many of them, she was able to entertain herself for longer periods of time. Looking around the dim confines of her "safehouse" with lower-lit eyes, she could see that there was not much available to do other than hunt for rats. Tomorrow, she decided, she would ask On'dinn to send her a deck of playing cards or something like that.

By the moment the sounds of the scurrying rodents became a standard and the lack of things to occupy her stay became apparent, idle thoughts flooded like a harsh torrent into the maiden's mind. That was the worst; when there was nothing to do and everything to think about. Without a tablet or even paper and ink, these thoughts couldn't be constructive, as in the form of a pro/con list. Without such aids, the imagination could wander and turn to worry, and soon that worry would become panic.

First, she considered that nothing could be accomplished wasting away in an abandoned hovel. If she was supposed to be "chosen" by Ui Himself, as Mavriel had claimed, burrowing in the dark like her murine neighbors was not going to stop anything, much less a demonic myriad. If she were indeed called upon by higher forces to act against this invasion, her time there would be short, of this she was sure. Whoever gooped-up the docks did benefit her plan in delaying the infernal process, but it was unfortunate that she was taking the blame. Either way, time and effort were not being utilized very well, despite On'dinn's best intentions.

Another problem was the question of why she was accused of the incident and who could have snitched on her. After all, she knew she was innocent of the matter but, so it seemed, Quay'liss Dalian and the civil wardens didn't share such an opinion. Because she was taking the blame, she considered that a factor into her grander role in all of this, and perhaps it would lead to a real call to action. Quen'die thought about that for a while. That was precisely what she needed more than anything: "a call to action." Without an action, she couldn't perform her chosen duties, whatever they were. It was almost as if she were being drawn out the door just so she could get everything set off. Looking at that grim portal of the substation for what seemed like hours, she knew that she would exit through it and soon.

As for Mavriel, what could he do? Yes, it was apparent he was a special messenger and, yes, he was not one of those infernals, but what more could he do? What special powers did he hold in these matters? Sure, he could fly unaided and he lived in another dimension, but other than that, what made him any more special than her? Could he read her mind, know her exact location and swoop down to her rescue before sunup? Could it be possible he knew that she was stowed away in this dark place as time wasted away? He was an angel, a deva. He wasn't like Superelf or some other mind-reading hero from one of her little brother's stupid cartoons. Was he, she wondered?

With that, her thoughts turned to Kaedish and her family. What was that kid doing? She cringed at the possibility that he was cohabitating with the foul Venn'lith. That maiden would have done nothing but abuse and torture him, she was sure. It was such a sad probability that Mother was apt to keep mum about the fiend's idle wiles and allow the little lad to take it with nary a peep from her. The more and more Quen'die thought about it, she not only hated what Mother was doing, but she was beginning to just hate _her_. Not as much as she detested Venn'lith, but the resentments were riding at an all-time high.

The gods only knew what was happening to Nanna and Father at that moment. There was no doubt in Quen'die's mind that bulls were trampling through Nanna's lovely little flat right as she chewed on the worry. "Where is she!" "We know she lives here!" "We're checking all the cabinets!" "Don't move an inch, old lady or we'll blast you!" As the echo of the last order reverberated through the empty room, Quen'die realized that she was imitating their angry municipal growls out loud. With that, the maiden clenched her teeth until her face turned as red as her hair.

Father was going through his own trials over her most-wanted status, she figured. As if he had not been through enough already by losing _everything_ over the course of one day just last month. Like this travesty, Quen'die took that blame as well. Nothing was going to get done by reflecting on these notions and, much to her surprise, she wasn't on the verge of wallowing in tears, but at the tipping point of rage. Chosen or not, she would have Venn'lith Mitlan's head. Considering that the maiden was the Prime Warden of the Atlantean Youth Parliament, it was almost certain she was the culprit behind this new fiasco. Quen'die hoped for the sun elf's sake that she was well guarded, because if she ever saw her, it would take millions to hold her claws back from the Xochian's neck.

Quen'die closed her eyes so tight that it hurt her forehead. Stuffing this rage was the only way to remain in control. She had to keep herself together or she would fail this mission, whatever it was becoming. Any psychwarden throughout the kingdom worth their weight in gold brens would advise her to not stifle such intense emotions, but the maiden knew it was not the time to lose her head with a tantrum of any flavor.

Seeing that she had no way to tell the time, Quen'die could only assume what hour of the night it was. All the windows of the substation were boarded over and those were small slats to begin with. Whoever used to work here must have gone crazy with claustrophobia, unless they were the type who liked it this way. The only outside light was through some of the exposed slivers where the city had made sloppy work of the covering.

Outside, the civil wardens were busy as the maiden could hear by the usual wail of the sirens. A couple of times, the red and blue lights of a flitcycle's gumballs burst in sprays through the cracked slats. Quen'die wondered if they belonged to Lauryl'la's father. For a moment, the maiden wished she were her best friend instead, except she didn't work as a shrieking baby bull.

Hours had to have elapsed since On'dinn had tucked her away, but it may have only been one. Without any real sense of her true environment, it was only a dull guess as to how long she had been stewing there when, by some strange phenomenon, the noises of all the animal nightlife suddenly stopped. Even the crickets. For a moment, Quen'die thought back to that odd night on the bluff when the same thing had happened. That evening seemed forever ago.

It was amazing as there was no sound. Even the low hiss of raw oxygen that anyone on Earth would take for granted seemed to cease right before the moment the side door to the substation tore open. Quen'die's scream met the clamor of the burst.

An infernal flew through the upper story of the shack while still holding the door in both of his hands. By the gods, he was strong, as that door was bolted, cured oak. Filing in behind the demonic breach with the speed of a limmer entered a coterie of white armors of the civil wardens - special missions division. Only until seconds after the intrusion did the red and blue lights of their vehicles awake from somewhere outside.

Quen'die knew that she was busted. Despite the wash of cold terror from the shock of the burst and the knowledge that these bulls could very well shoot then begin with interrogations, sweat dripped down her sides as if she were trekking through a jungle in Kumari. This was an endgame, and events were revolting outside her control. Perhaps, she wondered, if this was the signature of her failure, as even Mavriel couldn't get her out of this one.

"Get down! Get down on your belly now!" one of the faceless wardens crackled through the static of his visor. Just like most of the wardens as of late, these were bedecked in reinforced armors that made them look almost as bulky as golems.

Just to pack in the dire warning, another bull, a female, buzzed, "Move a muscle and we open fire! Get down!"

Obeying the orders by pure reflex, Quen'die looked around as the armors approached her with care; casters drawn. Above her, the infernal was still fluttering under the low ceiling with that door in his hands like an idiot.

"Be careful, she may have an explosive on her," the female warned her partner.

To that, the male ordered with a filtered hiss, "Palms up, maiden! Palms up! Keep your head _down_!"

Quen'die did as the bull barked but not before observing the rest of his entourage. Amongst her throng of arresting wardens, two familiar faces arrived. The first was Lauryl'la Hay'cenn who was donning the usual red gear of the Atlantean Youth Parliament. Following her was a young lady in a dark summer gown with shocking blond hair. By the time Quen'die put her sharp nose to the ground, she realized that it was Minnie from the docks.

What on Earth was she doing here, the elfmaid vexed? Was she some sort of plant or undercover agent? The moment Quen'die had recognized her, the foul situation became all the more confusing.

"That's her, guys," Minn'dre pointed to the prone elfmaid. "Quen'die Reyliss. She set off the bomb!"

"You sure that's her?" one of the other armors asked.

The blond was still pointing to her form. "It sure is. I'd know that red hair anywhere. Besides, she's exactly where my friend On'dinn said she would be."

On'dinn ratted me out, Quen'die almost uttered aloud as she chewed on the connections that this Minnie had claimed to have known him. It all was beginning to make sense, she surmised as she nearly bit her tongue. "Minnie" must have been one of the Black Hoods and this must have once been her assigned safehouse with On'dinn. Quen'die made a resolve to add the lad to her hit list whenever she got out of the dungeons where she was assured to get thrown into that night.

Before she could even assess what was happening, strong claws grabbed the back of her neck and both her ankles as another demon lifted her prone body with ease. "Ow! Stop it! No!"

"Shut your mouth, terrorist!" the demon oozed with a deep command. "You've nearly destroyed our plans for your people, you ungrateful cur!"

His voice was chilling and unearthly. Just the growling intonation of it made Quen'die's stomach lurch from an alien, tonal illness. If Mavriel's voice was golden music, this thing's noise was profound disease. At its mere utterance, the elfmaid could feel her head swell with a slight fever.

"Rabix! Remember your strength!" a fellow warden ordered. "We need this one alive."

As the shackles were secured on her body, Lauryl'la sauntered up to her old friend. Up and down she looked at the scuffed and dirty redhead with self-assured and gloating pleasure. "Quen'die Reyliss, I knew you were a loser, but this really is too much. I'll see you at the station."

One of the arresting armors fastened an ivory mouth guard over Quen'die's jaws as the demon Rabix held her slender neck upright. It tasted acrid, as if many arrestees had been subjected to it before and the city had never bothered to wash it. Before she was pushed headfirst into the back of the warden's coach, Quen'die peered up into the black sky searching for the silver glow of Mavriel's form in mid-flight. To her dismay, she could find nothing but stars.

III.QUEN'DIE'S SONG

" _I am not afraid... I was born to do this."_

-Jeanne d'Arc

" _As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend."_

-King Solomon
They Took Him Away

**O** n'dinn Jak'sin slapped his phone alive to check the time. There would still be over an hour for him to make it back to his hovel of a flat, complete with unconscious father, before he missed the curfew deadline. The entirety of the Atlantean provinces were doing some kind of job for the exodus effort, even retirees, but his father was not amongst those numbers. Neither was Madame Orsi, as On'dinn thought about it. He couldn't help but wonder why such a vibrant and adventurous lady would sit this out.

Sometimes, he wondered if his father would even be awake for Ark Day. He figured the civil wardens would have to carry his inebriated body into the vehicles themselves and he'd wake up on another world none the wiser. The old slouch probably wouldn't even care as long as they had a steady supply of mead waiting for him there. In his advanced alcoholic state, the old lord was apt to drink red mana if it were the only thing available.

The Loop Liner terminal was just shy of a block away from the substation where Quen'die Reyliss was embedded in exile. On'dinn stopped for a moment under the full moon and considered that she may have been responsible for bombing the docks. After seeing the report, the lad kicked into his survival mode by rote which he had honed during his days in the Black Hood and didn't stop to investigate her culpability.

She too reacted with so much shock upon hearing of her accusations, but she never did dispute the claim. On'dinn just figured that she was innocent and thus, framed. With Venn'lith Mitlan at the helm of the Youth Parliament, it was only logical that the spoiled brat would enjoy some powerful playtime with her rival, but did the Xochian have any real time for such hijinks?

Something didn't add up, the more the elf thought about it. Quen'die was most certain to have not perpetrated the incident. Over the years of living in a relatively rough neighborhood, on top of having had tenure with the Black Hood, On'dinn deemed himself as someone who could read people. She was too sheltered, too much of an ingénue to even orchestrate such a maneuver, much less execute it. The maiden was always so obedient at school, as her brain wasn't wired for those kinds of transgressions. Sure, she received the highest of marks in pretty much every one of her classes, but the problem wasn't with her intelligence, it was with her intellect. Quen'die just wouldn't question the nature of the exodus and rebel against it, and it was as simple as that. As far as On'dinn saw it, she was as innocent as the clowder of homeless kittens huddled in the alley nearby. Someone was either blaming her or setting her up as a patsy.

Bright lights assaulted the lad's eyes as he entered the tram station. The blinking clock over the attendant's booth read 9:05 p.m. There would still be plenty of time to skirt back home and get some sleep. Today had been the most eventful for him since Sig'ryn's party and the drama had drained him. Seeing his friend as the subject of a dragnet somehow made him feel violated even though the stones were not being tossed at him. Regardless, he could relate to the maiden's current plight and the whole situation made him angry as it was an intrusion by proxy. Just by being her neighbor, he was sure to be questioned by the wardens, or maybe even the ADF. In the back of his mind, he was already rehearsing lines of bull to feed to the bulls.

Checking in the pockets of his summer tunic, he felt the half-bren piece rolling around. It was the last scrap of money he had on him and it would be just enough to cover the cost of the short jaunt home. It was a shame that the Sea and Shell's relief effort didn't pay a little more, but at least that was righteous work.

"Going southbound," On'dinn slapped the coin on the scuffled old counter.

"No can do, kid," the attendant pointed with a blithe wave to the scrolling news screen above him which announced the one-bren markup for tram fare. "Try again."

"What?" the lad all but screamed. "Is this a joke? I rode this one hour ago and it was a third of this price just as it has been for the past five years!"

"No joke," the surly elf nestled in the dirty booth groaned in boredom. "City upped da fare five minutes ago. It was announced all over da newsscrolls."

"That's a total crock! Change it back!" On'dinn palmed his own face as he realized the absurdity of that command.

"Look, wiseguy, I can't do dat. Da Circle of Transport just uploaded the changes automatically! You take dat up wit' dem!" The attendant's face was melting into an angry lump of aged pudding.

On'dinn huffed in exasperation. The municipal government had increased the fare due to the expenses of the exodus; that would be no logical surprise. He considered playing nice.

"Okay, sir," the lad began as he composed himself. "I work for the Sea and Shell doing food distribution, so I realize that the city really needs the money right now, but do you think you could make an exception for an elf just trying to get home from an honest day? It can be our secret."

Just from seeing the lift in the attendant's eyebrows, On'dinn could tell his charismatic acrobatics weren't working. The old lord was livid. "Aw sure, I do dat, and den I gotta let _everyone_ through a third-price. An' guess what? _I_ get in trouble! Look on the bright side, jerk. In a few months it ain't even gonna matter. Get outta here! _Bum_!"

"Hey, now," On'dinn raised his palms to pacify the surly attendant.

The attendant's eyes were as large with rage as ostrich eggs. "You heard me! Beat it or I'm callin' da wardens!"

To that, On'dinn flew down the stairs of the terminal like a rabbit and back out into the night. The last thing he needed was an arrest over a fare dispute. That scrub in the booth was certain to be connected to the city in so many ways that he'd be in the dungeons for months had he, in all honesty, called the wardens on him.

By the time he backtracked to his old safehouse, the streets were devoid of traffic, except for a few last-run delivery coaches. Elves from all over the city were already home so that they could beat the curfew and On'dinn wished he were one of them. If only he had a coach or even Quen'die's nerdy little buggy, he could rely on his own devices to solve the problem. At these times, On'dinn hated being poor and he found himself equating poverty with powerlessness, and that lack of power humiliated him. Were his father not a drunk, life wouldn't deal him these foul hands.

Quen'die's current makeshift residence was backlit by the rising moon and On'dinn stood in front of it like a confused and lost child. He thought that he might have to join his neighbor in her exile just for the night. It would be better than a night in the dungeon, but what if the safehouse wasn't so safe, he considered? If he did bunk with her and the wardens somehow busted in, then he too would be implicated as a terrorist. Even a biomana scan would present the authorities with his knowledge of harboring her, and that was the same as being involved. As much as he wanted a place to crash, he couldn't take that deep risk.

He was wandering in ruffled thought and soon realized that he had made his way to the gates of Bonn'fyr Park. It too was closed, as a large iron chain had sealed it not long after sundown. By the light of his phone, he could see that he only had a half hour to hoof it home, and such a journey was not possible in that time. He almost considered walking up to a warden and turning himself in before the fact.

They were already out and preparing to make their nightly sweeps. An equine unit plodded along from across the street and the armor atop the steed turned his head with a slow pivot toward the lad. For some reason, the horse was riding low, as if spooked. This mounted warden tapped his forearm as if to simulate a wristwatch and pointed at On'dinn with a devious smile - " _I'm gonna get you!_ "

That froze the young elf. He knew he had very little time left and that exact bull was going to summon a coach to arrest him in twenty-five minutes and not a tick more. To make matters even more dismal, On'dinn could feel a cold presence from above. An Aldebaran soared about twenty feet over his head and shot him a fleeting, if disinterested, look. It looked like a giant brown moth flying against the blue-black sky of that night. He couldn't tell what its gender was even as he strained his eyes for more detail.

Headlights of a coach approached him with ever-decreasing speed. Whoever was piloting that vehicle knew him, and not everyone who knew him liked him, as Hyrax Arcovis had proved. On'dinn prayed in silence to the Twelve that the brute was not the owner of that beaming coach. If it were, the lad prophesized that the idiot would beat him senseless yet again and then dump him in front of a warden's station just so he could be arrested in due time on top of it.

The elf stepped back preparing to fight the best he could against his assumed hulking bully, but the female voice with the slight Gonduannian accent melted his nerves with a wave of relief. "On'dinn Jak'sin! Don't you know it's almost your bedtime?"

He was ecstatic. Never before was he happier to see someone. Not even Minn'dre. "Whoo-Hoo! Tam'laa Na'rundi! Just what the doctor ordered."

"What are you doing out here anyway?" she called out from behind the trackball. Whatever scent she was wearing was amazing, On'dinn thought.

"Tam, I'm too freaked out right now to give you a good sarcastic response, so all I'll say is that I am half a bren short," the lad could not bend the cheesy smile off his face.

"Oh, you mean the tram?" she looked over toward the lonely terminal down from the park. "Yeah, they just upped the fare a half hour ago, son. It was all over the newsscrolls. Didn't you know?"

"So I was told," the elf responded with a weak smirk. "Eh... Can I get a ride?"

Tam'laa's hair was tied up in three giant puffs across the crown of her head. On'dinn thought it looked so stunning, and his heart skipped a beat as she petted one of them. "Yeah, I can do that, but how far do you live from here? I need to get to my own place in time for curfew."

The lad's elevated heart sank. There was no way that he could have Tam'laa drop him off and ensure her safety as well. She would be, without a doubt, caught after curfew if she made such an altruistic detour. So close, yet so far away, as the old saying went. "Honestly, Tam, I don't think you'd make both trips in time. This really sucks."

The maiden nibbled a light bite in thought on a heavily-adorned golden fingernail then smiled. "Well, I guess I'm going to have a houseguest tonight."

"Really, you don't have to, Tam," On'dinn hoped against all bets that she would insist, and when he thought about that mounted unit, he began to pray again. "I'm sure I can slink through the back alleys or something."

"No, that won't work," her puffballs bobbed as she shook her head. "We're going to have to put you up for tonight. My father is pretty strict, but I'm sure he'll consider the circumstances. We have a guestroom at the house and everything, so you'll be all right."

"Really!" the lad's eyes lit up. "You sure it's no problem?"

"If you don't get your behind in here soon, it will be," she laughed. "We only have twenty minutes to get home. Come on, hop in."

Tam'laa's coach was the welcoming turn of fortune that On'dinn needed that night. It reminded him of the wonderful night she had driven him home after Sig'ryn's party. Just the fact that she crossed his path somehow seemed fateful to the young elf.

"Hey, I'm so sorry I haven't kept in touch recently," he situated himself in the passenger seat. "I really have been so busy with this relief effort. You know, my job placement."

"Oh, where did you take your assignment?" she asked as she put her phone into the little cubby bin between them. "Wait, lemme guess. You are... working with the Circle of Health loading up medical supplies or something like that."

"Nope," he chirped. "Try loading up food. I took a spot with the Sea and Shell. It's super crowded there. I suppose that's why so many other people are working there too because it's kind of easy and you always get extra food at the end of the shift. I pretty much put together ration packages for families throughout the city. Some of it goes to the rest of the provinces. I even prepared one that went all the way up to Caidhul yesterday."

"Well, I hope it tastes better than Managrill. I'm just coming back from there because there was nothing else open after five. For some reason they got a royal waiver to remain open after dusk." The maiden clutched her stomach in a facetious pantomime of food poisoning. "I believe I will regret that decision tomorrow. Sometimes I think they keep that place open just to make us all sick."

On'dinn let out a little laugh. "Ah yes, the almighty Managrill. Not surprising. The CEO probably paid off the Princess. Well, Dr. Jak'sin prescribes a healthy dose of Milk of Magnesia and then call me in the morning. What are you doing now, anyway?"

"My father got me a placement with the biomana labs on the other side of town," she smiled as she thought of her luck. "It's super easy, and he claims it will help further my career in the bio field. I still miss being at the Circle of Enviro, but we all know about that."

"Eww, 'biomana,'" the lad winced. "I don't want to think about that. The night they arrested me at the arena, the bulls stuck my face in a scanner. It's awful. It's like watching your life flash before your eyes and you can even see moments of memories you were too young to have. Like, I saw myself always playing with this stuffed monkey like it was yesterday, but I was an infant when I lost it. So..."

Tam'laa sat back in mild amusement at the elf's claim. "That's pretty wild. I wonder what goofy things I used to play with as an elfling. Well, anyway, we only work with the raw energy that goes into the scanners there, not the scanners themselves. All I'm assigned to do is deliver invoices of how much mana we receive. Pretty simple stuff."

Memories of the night of his arrest led to worries about his semi-homeless friend. Right as he was speaking with Tam'laa, Quen'die Reyliss was on the lam herself and he was responsible for it. Someone else had to know about this. Knowing what he knew was too much for his slight shoulders to bear. No longer did he have the organized network of the Black Hood to relay information or to provide any such support. As far as Quen'die was concerned, he was her one and only source of it.

Perhaps Quen'die wasn't his best friend, or maybe only a top acquaintance, but On'dinn knew the path for success was paved with responsibility and accountability. He wondered what the dangers of letting Tam'laa in on his antics would be. Her father was a Gonduannian officer and it was possible that his government was after her with the same gusto as his own. Sometimes risks needed to be taken, he knew well. He started this for the maiden on a reactive whim and he had to step up to the plate.

"Quen'die Reyliss didn't do it," he blurted. The lad slapped his hand to his lips as he realized he was verbalizing his thoughts.

Tam'laa's eyes lit with confused shock. "What?"

On'dinn resituated himself in the seat to deliver his explanation. "Okay, we both know that Quen'die is all over the news and they're blaming a 'Black Hood 2' for the sabotage at the docks. I assure you, there is no 'BH2.' Believe me, I should know."

Her lush brown eyes were lowering from quick shock to slow suspicion. The look on Tam'laa's face made On'dinn assume she thought that he was crazy. "Eh, go on."

At least she's humoring me, he thought. "I think Quen'die was framed by Venn'lith Mitlan now that she is head of the Youth Parliament. I was watching a movie with her when the report cut in and alerted the public about her. I mean, come on! You know Dee wouldn't even come up with the idea to do something like that, nor would she fall for anyone duping her into doing it."

The Gonduannian's countenance remained unchanged. _She thinks I'm nuts_ , On'dinn lamented to himself. "There's definitely something sinister going on with the Youth Parliament, Tam. I mean, really! Dee is a terrorist?"

"Okay, On'dinn," she placed her hands with calm grace on the trackball and inhaled a deep dose of the night air. The maiden always considered herself to be a practical sort and chewed on On'dinn's report for a moment. The lad thought she would make a great counselor or even a priestess one day. "I hear you and I see what you're saying. You bring up some good points, and I won't lie about that. It's true that Dee wouldn't have the gumption to bother with such a stunt, and I don't see her just giving in to someone who would ask her to do it. It's also true that Lith pretty much hates her guts and has the power and connections to make this happen, but, really, don't you think you are linking together some pretty distant dots?"

On'dinn admonished himself for not thinking before opening his mouth. There was no way that he could tell Tam'laa that he was aiding and abetting Quen'die until she was convinced in full. "I know this all seems a far stretch, but it isn't really. It could very well be an honest accident, but I still say there are some rats in the rabbit hole. I don't like this a bit."

She turned straight ahead and looked out the windscreen. "Okay, we'll worry about this when we get back to my house. We only have a few minutes left before curfew. But first and foremost, don't tell my father about any of this. He's probably looking for her himself!"

As she stared out into the night and prepared to summon her coach into the flow, she noted a squat figure waddling down the avenue with a jerky meter across from them. As her eyes adjusted to the distance, she could see that it was a pudgy young male who was wearing a loud striped t-shirt with suspenders and carrying a small wooden box. "Hey, On'dinn, look at that fool trying to hoof it home in time on foot. He'll never make it."

"Oh, no! That poor guy. Look closer. I think he's developmentally disabled," On'dinn turned to his pilot with a sharp snap. "Do you think we have the time to give him a lift home? We can't just leave him out here like this."

"Too late," Tam'laa pointed high as two dark forms emerged down from the sky with gentle descent and into the flood of a streetlight. Both landed in front of the elf, blocking his path.

"It's the Aldebarans," On'dinn whispered as his eyes bulged with fear. "I don't like this."

From the sounds of their husky voices, the teens could tell that they were both male. They were quite tall as well, both reaching a height of eight feet or so. The little elf was a dwarf compared to these aliens, and the sight of such a pitiful match made On'dinn's blood boil. The lad was well acquainted with the art of the bully and he could just tell by their pair's body language alone that bullying was on their agenda for the night.

"Why out so late, little buddy?" the two teens could hear one of the fiends ooze from across the empty street. "Don't you know curfew is in a few minutes?"

"Yes," the young lad responded with dutiful measure. "I work at the Managrill. I sweep the floors until they are shiny. I am doing my part!"

"I'm sure you are," the other winged form cut in. "So, what's in the box, hmm? Is that a bomb, yes?"

"No, that is not a bomb," the elf responded with the same choppy meter, almost as if his answer was rehearsed. "It is my lunchbox. My mother makes me lunch every day. I am going home to her now."

"Wait, not so fast," the first Aldebaran continued to block. "Are you retarded or something? Hey, Dysentarius! I think we have a retard here!"

"No, my mother says that I am developmentally disabled and that there is no such thing as a retard," he recited back to them.

"Aww, look," Dysentarius bent low in the diminutive elf's face. "Lucifer was right! The Creator _does_ make mistakes! And you're living proof of it, _retard_!"

A polyphonic song of angry guffaws broke through the lonely night air only to be joined by the high-pitched sobbing of their elven victim. His reaction spurred the beasts to laugh with all the more violence as they drank in his fear and shame.

"Gods!" Tam'laa's eyes were swelling with water as she and On'dinn watched this horrible display before them. What on Earth was going on with these supposed saviors of elfdom, they both at once wondered? "On'dinn, we need to alert the authorities!"

On'dinn looked over at his weeping comrade with a slow twist of his neck. His blood was no longer heated, as the grim knowledge of the world's situation was all the more apparent to him. "Tam, they _are_ the authorities."

"Please don't hurt me!" the besieged elf cried as he clutched his box tight to his flabby chest; sensing their scorn for him. "I'll be good!"

Dysentarius halted his peal of laughter with a curt stop, as if he had never laughed before in his life. "Oh, don't worry, you fat _moron_. Where you're going, you won't feel a thing."

The fiend looked at his partner and nodded a grinning affirmation. Grabbing a fleshy elven arm each, they bounded up into the darkness three abreast. Although the alien pair was no longer laughing, On'dinn and Tam'laa were left with the sickening wail of the disabled elf ever losing volume as he was whisked away to a place unknown.

Both of their bodies were stiff with dread as they looked at each other, although they could not really see anything before them but the horrid memory of that incident. Tam'laa's mouth hung open as she shook her head almost pleading with her friend to rewind the last five minutes of their life so she could give the unfortunate little elf a lift home to his mother. If that had happened, everything would be all right and they would not have the dreadful knowledge that their saviors might be their doom.

"On'dinn," she stammered as her hanging mouth dripped with salty water. "Please."

Their silent moment was destroyed by a loud thunk from outside her coach, prompting both to scream from the sudden jolt. On'dinn craned his head about for its source, but could not discern his surroundings through his terrorized grief. "What was that?"

Tam'laa peered out from the lip of the coach's door and saw the block of wood on the ground not five feet away from them. How high did they fly? How long ago did those monsters launch themselves? Even a few seconds at their rate could have been halfway to the moon, the maiden guessed. "I think it's that kid's lunchbox. I'm gonna get it for evidence!"

When the maiden picked up the box, she studied it like a specimen at her old job over at the Circle. The cured wood was painted in bright colors and adorned with a banal cartoon of flowers sprouting from under a yellow sun. Printed in large, rainbow letters floated the word "SMILE." Despite the box's hopeless command, Tam'laa lost it the second she read it.

"On'dinn!" she bawled. "I'm telling my father! I want him to kill those two! _Gods_ help us!"

Her friend saddled next to her knelt form and hugged her warm dark body like a megasloth. The maiden's eyes were oozing with tears as the lad realized that he too was sharing her sorrow. He felt a blackening hole of woe not only for the little elf and Tam'laa, but for the earth itself.
My Eyes!

**I** t had to stop. For the last three days, Venn'lith had been falling ill with symptoms of terrible nausea and chronic light-headedness. At least Cadreth was a peach about it all and made sure to be attentive to her needs. He was there with elixirs and tonics and anything else that could remedy the aches, if only for a while, but after the medicines wore off, the pains in her belly and head would resurface as strong as ever.

Father was nowhere to be found and the maiden didn't really care at that point. Between the swirling headaches and Cadreth's care, the old lord's absence was stuffed to the back of her mind. Before meeting her gentle tutor, this would have been a cause of concern and possible jealousy towards Glynna, but the alien lad was casting his own spell on her, and for that she felt a rare pang of gratitude.

At night, the pains would subside, but the nausea was still in full effect. As she thought back upon it, the Xochian wondered if she had been having a reaction to handling all those samples of Thelemex. If just touching the pills caused her this much grief, she could only imagine the horrors that would ensue by actually consuming it. As she was the spokesperson for the drug, she had frequent exposure to it and was required to handle boxes and bare samples of the stuff day in and day out at press conferences, meetings and boardrooms.

Her friend Sig'ryn's father's company milled the dope right out of his own house. Not only did their mansion grow its own rooms and furniture via its strange organic process, it also grew Thelemex. Every day, Aldebarans would arrive with kettles of this black goop called "thelema' which was mined out of the very arks themselves. After the shipment arrived, alchemists in Sig'ryn's basement would use the house's natural generative abilities to forge the muck into a form which was ready for mass-consumption. The milling process was sort of interesting, she thought, as the pills were indeed grown and plucked right off the swarming grape vines which grew out of the estate's walls.

Considering that many alchemists had to forge the pills every day, they must have suffered direct exposure to the drug as well. Because of this, Venn'lith wondered if any of the techs handling the stuff were experiencing the same conditions as she. Sure, the active ingredient was all natural, but so was red mana, she reasoned.

Under better health, Venn'lith would have never been more pleased to hear that her old rival Quen'die Reyliss was now the subject of a worldwide elfhunt, but such knowledge did nothing to kill the pain. Glynna was tearing herself apart in four directions with that nonsense and the lady could not stop pacing about the house ever since the news about her daughter broke earlier that afternoon. She was even trying, in desperation, to get a hold of her estranged husband. Every few minutes she would try her phone again, and then again, but he was not responding. Her frenetic antics were making everything worse for Venn'lith as she just wanted to fall asleep for a while and not be bothered by the lady's constant begging of her phone, " _C'mon! Ferd'inn! Answer me!"_

Venn'lith staggered out of bed when a new bolt of sickness arose from her stomach. With the revolt in her body, her head was swimming again and until she quelled that revolution, she would not be able to shake the dizziness.

Although she hated vomiting, she knew that she would feel much better once she did. At school, some of the maidens who were not as blessed with a physique such as hers thought that they could achieve her naturally-fortunate figure by hurling up everything they ate. The Xochian couldn't understand how they had managed to do that, in some cases, three times a day. Aside from the sour taste, the violent feeling of the food knocking around her organs was just dreadful. Perhaps if she were indeed fat, she would have considered it.

As she swam with some success down the hallway to the bathroom nearby, she made a mental note to ask Father to adjoin a private toilet next to her bedroom. How disgusting I am, she lamented as she knelt over the basin like a drunken bum down by the docks, but what had to be done had to be done.

With each expulsion she felt ten degrees better. By that night, there wasn't much of any substance left in her body as eating food had not been an option since yesterday afternoon. Cadreth kept pleading with her to eat, but after a few valiant attempts, his efforts were crushed when Venn'lith all but threw the bowl of broth out of his hands with a growl. With a bow and a move as dutiful as Ping, the young alien backed off after that and it made the maiden only feel all the warmer for him. So accommodating, she mused, as that behavior would make for a perfect king.

Her bent legs were shaking like a newborn colt after the retching. That too was a sensation she hated attached to the process. When she heard Glynna's voice chime with concern, the maiden realized that she hadn't bothered to close the bathroom door.

"Gods, Lith! You're still vomiting?" the lady piped. She continued to clutch a red phone in her hands hoping, without a doubt, to reach Quen'die's father.

"Shut up," the Xochian croaked back. Even though she got along rather well with Glynna, she couldn't help but react to the embarrassing intrusion. "Glynna, I'm sorry. I just don't like people seeing me this way."

The lady's frown from the maiden's insubordinate shock melted into concern as she saw her future stepdaughter in such a humble position. "Look, I'm going to get your father and we'll call the health warden. We should have done this yesterday. I really don't like this. You have caught something serious and it doesn't seem to be going away on its own."

"I have a private warden. He's been my pediatrician since I was born," she informed Glynna. "Besides, Cadreth has been taking care of me. It'll go away. I think it's just a really bad bug."

"Oh, and is he here or in Xo'chi?" the lady challenged as she rested in the bathroom's doorway. "We may not have time to fly him out here. This is bad. For all I know, you could be dead by then!"

With a raised and suspecting eyebrow, Quen'die's mother wondered in the back of her mind if Venn'lith needed not a pediatrician, but a gynecologist. It was quite obvious that the maiden and Cadreth were what seemed to be inseparable ever since meeting each other, and that union included her bedroom. Glynna had been frowning over this arrangement for the last month and decided that she would have never let her Quen'die congregate with a male in a locked room unattended. How ironic, Lady Reyliss observed; as this was the exact delinquency this maiden had accused her daughter of doing.

Centeo didn't seem to mind, or at least notice, and Glynna felt like it wasn't yet her place to protest the behavior. A pang of maternal spite toward the alien lad swelled out of her mouth regardless. "And Cadreth isn't a doctor!"

Venn'lith regained her composure with a huff as the foul session with illness had bestowed her with renewed strength. "I know this, Glynna. Either way, he's sweet and he has been really helpful. He's been trying to get me to eat, but I just see food and I want to be sick. I think it's that Thelemex stuff those studio producers are always making me handle. I really wonder what's in those pills."

"Well, I think it's **...** " Glynna's opportunity to suspect Cadreth in the open was dashed the moment she saw the Xochian's irises. They were a bright yellow. "Gods, Lith! Your eyes!"

Her vanity was being assaulted with that and this icy fear straightened her form as she shot up into the mirror above the sink. Her lush mahogany rings, of which she was so proud, were now a sick citrine. She remembered in a horrific flash the symptoms of jaundice and hepatic failure from her Health classes. "Glynna! Is it my liver? I don't even drink alcohol! I look like a zombie from a horror movie!"

Lady Reyliss rushed in to embrace the maiden. Venn'lith thundered sobs at her changed form in an instant and raised the cries to a defeated wail. No matter how tender the lady's embrace, the Xochian could only stare into the glass transfixed at her terrible new colors. "Gods! I look unearthly! I'm ruined!"

"Shh...," Quen'die's mother cooed into the maiden's long ears. She brushed back the utilitarian ponytail that was draped over one of sun elf's shoulders and rocked her stiff and bawling form with more warmth than she thought she could for another's child.

"Glynna," Venn'lith alerted through prideful chokes. "What if I'm contagious? You shouldn't touch me or you'll turn into a beast as well!"

The maiden did bring up a couple of good points, Glynna noted. Elfmaids didn't change eye color in the matter of an evening due to a fateful meeting with a lad, and that Thelemex stuff she was ordered to monger wasn't of terrestrial origin. Lady Reyliss cooled her embrace upon that.

"I'm getting a health warden over here now," she hurried as she ordered up the emergency to her phone. Just in case Venn'lith wasn't incorrect about communicability, Glynna stepped out of the bathroom with a political curtsey to conduct the call.

Venn'lith couldn't bear to look at her eyes any longer. Noticing a nearby towel, she was half-tempted to cover the mirror with it just so she wouldn't see her befouled face by fleeting accident. Her pupils were so small against that diseased yellow and she knew that she would have to wear colored contacts until this problem was resolved.

As Glynna attempted a calm discussion of the maiden's symptoms with the circle's staff on the other end of the flow, Venn'lith knew that the lady's efforts would be futile. Whatever was wrong with her was certain to be alien to any doctor on Earth, and Cadreth would know better than some haughty scrollworm when it came to diagnosing this condition. Thinking more about it, the Xochian was feeling her familiar anger well up inside. As to whatever was wrong with her, Cadreth should have informed her. There had been so much contact with him over the last month and plenty of it was very close; in the physical sense. Thelemex may not have been the culprit, but rather, a novion with a sordid history with his natives.

If Cadreth were to blame for her illness, she would have it out with him no matter their size difference. No lad could dare disrespect her like she was some variety of dock-trash. Venn'lith knew that she could handle herself and she was set to have a long and heated conversation with her dearest tutor.

"All right. Thank you, Doctor, we'll be waiting here." Glynna left the flow and turned to Venn'lith. "The doctor will be here tonight. I couldn't get any possible diagnosis over the phone, but they rarely do that unless it's life or death."

The Xochian's eyes widened. "But it _is_ life or death! Look at me!"

"Honey, I know, but we can't really do anything more until we can get a professional opinion," she twirled her crimson locks with her free hand out of sheer nervousness. "The health circle claims this guy is the best they have on call."

Her words meant nothing as the maiden's mind wandered through the possible sources of her problem. "Glynna, this _is_ alien. What good would some nighttime-quack be to me? I am sure of it, and I think it's Cadreth. I'm with him like twenty-four seven."

If it were indeed an alien condition, then the lad would be most apt to blame. Glynna could easily see how Venn'lith was entranced by him. Were the lady any younger, she too would have considered some private time with that lad. He held such magnetism that good sense, value or reason no longer mattered whenever he was within eyeshot. It was almost a magical trance and his bright aura bested even Centeo's. All those Aldebarans were frightfully attractive in their own ways. Not an unpleasant-looking one amongst those whom she had met, but that particular male was downright heavenly. A tingle of adolescent jealousy for the Xochian disrupted her good sense for a second.

"Well, we can't go pointing fingers yet, Lith, and you do tend to...assert yourself sometimes," the lady flicked her eyebrows with her insinuation of the maiden's terrible temper. "Let's just see what one from the home team says about this before we go off exploring the medicines of another world."

"Whatever," Venn'lith shot. "I can already feel my strength return some and I'm going to get some water. That is, until I lose it again."

Cadreth was not in his guest quarters. Venn'lith found it odd that, after a month, he still had nothing of his own brought in from the arks. No phones or tablets or personal affects, nor were there any other clothes aside from the attire in which she had met him. Everything that was hanging in his closet the maiden had bought for him on one of their many shopping trips. Did the Aldebarans even have things like tablets and computers, she wondered? The lad was a bit tight-lipped about his home, aside from it being dark and dismal.

He never touched upon by what method they traveled or what their homes were like or any of those details. For the most part, he would just woo her with sweet nothings and volleys of compliments. It was true that he was assigned to train her for some form of supervision for when they made it to the new planet, but most of his tutelage consisted of lessons regarding how to manage the exodus effort on Earth and smiling pretty for the manamirrors. This was what was most odd, she thought. How was she supposed to rule a pioneer society if he couldn't give her pointers on things like edicts, punishments, population control, the acquisition and securing of another's resources and, of course, war. What worked very well for her father on a developed Earth may not be so efficient on this strange new world.

She had attempted on a couple of occasions to bring this subject to light with him, but whenever she did, he would just flash her _that_ look and her concerns were all forgotten. Now that she had a bone to pick with the lad, she felt the nerve to confront him about his poor teaching skills. There would be no way that she would be dumped on a deserted planet without the instruction booklet. "Venn'lith Mitlan: The Queen of Nothing." – not going to happen.

When she saw the huge pair of moth wings twittering in the shadows of the unlit lounge down the hall, Venn'lith knew that it was him skulking around. As her stomach was all but devoid of sickness, her familiar anger was easier to muster. "Cadreth! Are you trying to hide from me, _Mijo_?"

He let out a surprised yelp from the gloom as if he were somehow caught in the cookie jar. Almost eight feet of winged elf stood before her draped in the dusk of the room. His blue eyes flashed like a cat's for a split second, and it made Venn'lith think of her dreadful new eye color. "Venn'lith! You surprised me! Are you feeling better, my chinchilla?"

His efforts to disarm her only made her anger foment into rage. The thing the sun elf hated most was when someone dared to patronize her. Stupid Ping had learned never to attempt such a tactic within the first week of her employment with her family. When Venn'lith Mitlan was angry, one just rode with it or suffered the consequences.

The Xochian barked at the lounge to summon the lights, revealing the sheepish alien. With all the power left in her form that she could cull, she marched with great poise square into his face which stood about two feet above her. With a chewed-up fingernail, she pointed to a yellowed iris. "Does _this_ look any better?"

Without a pause, he began to form one of his generous smiles as if he knew very well what was happening, but wanted to change the subject to something lighter. "Lith, my baby, please don't..."

"You don't 'baby' me!'" the maiden screamed. Her spite was welled to full capacity and she slapped his wide chest with both of her hands. The shock of his mass jarred back into her elbows as the lad was all but unmovable like a hunk of granite. Any sensible elf would have been horrified at the monumentality of the young elder, but Venn'lith was not impressed or surprised as she was well-versed with his physical superiority.

Her glare was unbreakable and her thoughts were bouncing back and forth behind her hot face. She had to make a concerted effort to maintain the Atlantean tongue as she knew that she would sometimes slip into her native language when enraged. "You have some explaining to do! I have been violently ill for the past three days and I want to know why! Look at my eyes, _Brujo_! What did you do to me?"

"But, Lith, I..."

"There will be no excuses!" she growled. "Only answers! Is it because of that disgusting drug I have to model around like a puppet? Are you ill with some alien bug that your alleged quarantine didn't catch? If you don't get straight with me, I will tell my _Papi_ and he will have you eviscerated!"

Cadreth had met his match right here on Earth and that was why he supposed that he loved her. Of all the succubae and other myriads of demons and devils that vied for his lustful abilities back home, none of them could hold their own against his wiles like this mortal maiden. Sometimes he would daydream that he had never fallen and the Creator had assigned him to be her deva instead of this unholy arrangement. As he stared back into her angry eyes, he found himself intimidated, and this only made him love her even more.

"Glynna has just phoned a local quack to come by and give me a full diagnosis of whatever foul disease you gave me! He is sure to be stupid like all Atlanteans and will leave befuddled. You, Cadreth, will _enlighten_ him!" Her grayed and chapped lips were quivering like a rabid mongrel.

"Yes, I can explain," he cheeped, defeated.

"Then begin! I command it!"

Although the lad was close to eight feet against Venn'lith's 5'10", he felt so small before her. Her ability to order rivaled that of even Glasya. When he delivered her to the Nine, it was a distinct possibility that she would take over the place just by her sheer will alone.

"All right," he gestured over to a comfortable golden sofa next to them. The only sound was the huff of the Xochian's heaving lungs and the dull hiss of the mansion's climate control. But you'll need to sit down for this one."

***

Glynna was still beside herself as she primped with haste before the grand mirror in the foyer. She looked a wreck with all of the drama of that night and wanted to be sure that she appeared presentable for the warden. Because of the curfew and the fact that the house call was for a Mitlan, the doctor was being escorted by a cadre of hulking municipals.

From upstairs, she could hear a barking rage in one of the lounges. Such muffled outbursts were becoming common from down the halls the longer the lady lived at this mansion. She shook her head and winced with mild annoyance as she could tell that Venn'lith had summoned some of her angry strength back. Either Ping, or maybe even Cadreth, was getting the third degree from her.

When the house announced the arrival, she straightened herself for full effect. This was going to be a total tramwreck, she figured as her soon-to-be-stepdaughter was sure to be in the saltiest of moods. Glynna assumed she would be the most uncompromising of patients and didn't, in truth, want to be present for the embarrassing behavior that she would be certain to display. Quen'die would never act in such a manner to a professional no matter how ill or frightened she might have been. But then, there was plenty about her daughter that she didn't realize, like the fact that she was an amateur saboteur.

Armors filled the foyer as a small and frail-looking health warden rolled in a portable manapump and some diagnostic equipment. Amongst the coterie of civil wardens was a young lad dressed in the red uniform of the Youth Parliament.

"Mother!" Kaedish ran to Lady Reyliss as he swiped the wedged felt cap off his head. Her son was having so much fun with the AYP as he had shaped his body to fitness in the short month that he had served amongst its ranks. From the looks of it, Glynna wondered if he hadn't sprouted another inch or so since turning fourteen. She made a short mental note to be more attentive to the young elf.

"Hi kiddo," she smiled despite her current frazzle. "You home for the night?"

"Yeah, I am," he chuckled. He was all sweaty from his daily duties. "They had me working late tonight. We busted some guys who were trying to steal rations and the captain said I did so good that he might even promote me to squad leader next week!"

"Hey, that's great," she intoned with some phony mirth. Between Quen'die and Venn'lith, she was not feeling so celebratory for her son. Perhaps once things settled down some, she might be able to take the lad's lust for law enforcement with more gusto. "Kaedish, honey, I need for you to go to your room for a bit. As you know, the doctor is here to see Venn'lith and she's in a really bad mood, okay?"

"Uh, yeah, okay," the young elf lamented. Before signing up with the Parliament, he would have whined and cried over his mother's demands, but the drills and discipline were having quite the positive effect on his behavior. At least someone was benefitting from the end of this world. "Lemme know when it's over."

"Good evening, Lady Reyliss," the tiny Tel'lemurian doctor presented a hand, ignoring her son's departure. "I'm Warden Yag'ni and I'll be giving Venn'lith the diagnosis."

"Good evening to you too, Doctor," she flashed him a customary smile. "She should be down any moment. Eh, she's just trying to compose herself."

"That's fine," he beamed. "That'll give me some time to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

"Certainly," she maintained her plastered smile.

"Can you tell me of any outward symptoms she's exhibiting? Also, could you tell me how she claims she has been feeling?" The doctor was scribbling over his tablet some of the preliminaries for his examination.

Glynna huffed as she cataloged the foul conditions in her mind. She again had really wished that Venn'lith's father were there with her for this. "Uh, yeah. Well, she has been vomiting, eh violently, for the past three days. Um, her skin is normally, you know, very Xochian, kind of caramel, but it has been dulling. Graying, if you will. And my biggest concern is with her eyes."

Yag'ni ceased the stylus. "Okay, what's wrong with her eyes?"

Lady Reyliss chewed her bottom lip for a moment. "Well, normally, her eyes are a dark brown, and now they are a bright yellow. Not yellow like a cat or something, but like a lemon rind. You'll see. It's amazing."

To that, his eyebrows almost hit his hairline. "Wow! I can't wait to see this. Are you sure it isn't something like jaundice, you mean?"

"Oh, no!" she shook her head with her own disbelief. "They're so yellow now they practically glow. I'm really worried for her, especially since she's been handling that Thelemex drug for her work and has had plenty of close contact with some of the Aldebarans."

"All right," the doctor mumbled as he transcribed the lady's report. "So, are any of these Aldebarans here tonight with you?"

On cue, to answer the doctor, Cadreth escorted the slouching form of Venn'lith. She was hunching herself into his side as she walked while the lad held her hand with a tight grip. Glynna could see that the maiden was heaving from tears and kept her eyes shut like a vise. The doctor sucked in a gustful of air upon seeing the winged male. Yag'ni was no stranger to these new beings as they were in and about the Health Circle now and then, but this one was quite imposing.

"Eh, Hello. Good evening," the Aldebaran stammered. "My name is Cadreth and this is your patient Venn'lith."

The Xochian teen lifted her head with a slow grace from the lad's shank and faced the doctor with her eyes still shut. Lady Reyliss was correct in that her skin coloration was as dull as ash. When the maiden opened her lids, the doctor could see that the whites were red from incessant bouts of crying, but the irises glowed like the light from a torch.

Warden Yag'ni expelled a shocked gasp. It was unlike anything he had seen except for a monster in a movie. His spine writhed with a disgust that he could only describe as "unholy."

"Tell them Cadreth," Venn'lith ordered the lad with a soft hiss as her face dripped with sorrow. "Tell them what you did to me."
Seal it Over

" **D** elivery time?"

"Eh," the acting warden at interments checked his tablet. "11:11 a.m. Heh, make a wish."

"Thanks," the arresting officer checked his own tablet for verification. "We caught us a big fish tonight, so we might be at this for a while. With the martial law going on, she won't be able to have any legal counsel until at least midmorning tomorrow."

The internments warden poured himself another cup of tea from his thermos. It was growing rather tepid and he considered boiling up more water. "It's the terrorist, yeah? That Reyliss maiden? I have to hand it to you, you guys are fast."

"Not fast enough," Detective Tu'vall Op'yss grunted. "This kind of thing could have been prevented in the first place. The Circle of Transport reports the dock's still knocked out and might be for weeks. This little scab may just have signed elfdom's death warrant."

The desk warden winced at the brackish taste of the tea. "Yeah, without that Thelemis, or whatever they call it, we aren't going anywhere soon. Well, bring the fiend in and we'll have her processed."

Op'yss ejected a small chuckle. "Right. And please do it with some consideration."

Slugging the final contents of the thermos, the acting warden peered down the empty hall expecting to see the infamous detainee that instant. "She strapped?"

"Oh, yeah. She's getting the full welcoming treatment with mouth guard and everything." Op'yss pointed to the grisly mask fastened on his face. "Wear a rebreather too and close your thermos. She reeks of mint. Could be a bio-agent."

"Sure," the warden began to dig inside his desk for the suggested apparatus. "It's probably just sunshield. That stuff can really stick to you."

"Sunshield trucking a bug," the detective crackled through the filter. "You never know. These anarchist-types can be tricky. We'll have the lab shuck a skin sample off her and make sure she isn't hot. Alert Inquisitions and have them prep a manaspike and the biomana for tomorrow. We'll see if she's working with anyone else and if they have more nonsense up their sleeves. I think we're going to have a really long morning with this one."

With his mask donned, secured and activated, the stumpy desk warden hissed, "Ah, poor baby. Bring her through."

"She's dangerous," Op'yss intoned for effect. "Okay, bring her in!" the detective barked into his comm.

With an echoing series of clanks, the internment doors unlocked their internal mechanisms and the bulky portal slid wide open. Light from the dungeon's courtyard bled into the long hallway announcing the arrival of the notorious with silent certainty.

Quen'die Reyliss' head was swimming. The grasping and groping of the demons and arresting wardens left dull aches though her body. Her neck hurt most of all and the upright gurney to which she was strapped did nothing to quell the pains. It was almost as if she were being crucified and drugged at the same time. The hallway seemed miles long in her confusion and much too bright for the eyes to adjust. The saline sting of tears stabbed at her eyeballs, but there was no way her bound arms could rectify that problem. All she could do was blink, which may have been aggravating it.

After what seemed like a sluggish eternity, the gurney halted in front of the masked processing warden at the end of the hall. Terror lit up the maiden's eyes wide as she soaked in the formal display of security before her. The squat bull rose from his seat and rounded over to her square in her face.

"Quen'die Reyliss," he buzzed with menace through the rebreather. "Too bad you weren't male or else I'd give you a warmer welcome with my fist to your gut!" The two demons in tow behind her began guffawing upon that rude introduction and the maiden blurted out a muffled weep upon hearing it.

"Aww," he continued with his abuse. "The little princess gonna cry? Not as much as all of elfdom when we can't evacuate, no thanks to _you_!"

Changing his mind about chivalry toward females, the warden thrust a reactive ham hock into the maiden's tiny belly. Quen'die sprayed that evening's elderberry muffin through her mouth guard. Cruel laughter from elf and demon alike rang in an infernal chorus to the warden's foul performance.

"Bor'gann, knock it off," Op'yss chided the desk warden. "We have to do this by the scroll. Don't worry, the Inquisitors will give her what-for in due time."

The admonished warden formed a sheepish wince from behind his mask. "All right, but I want a front-row audience for that!"

This may have been the entrance to the Nine Hells as far as Quen'die was concerned. What more horrors had these bulls in store for her as the night wore on, she feared? With the foul guard shutting her mouth, she couldn't protest a thing and the taste of her bile was making her all the more ill.

Op'yss began filing preliminaries into his tablet and flowing the data over to the desk warden. "We've tried to contact the parents. They're estranged currently and the father is nowhere to be found. The mother is en route right now. We're going to try her grandmother's place too. It doesn't matter really because this one's gonna be charged as an adult, so..."

Upon hearing that Mother was on her way made the maiden want to lose it right then and there. Quen'die needed to see her in the worst way, but she knew the long-awaited reunion would be cold and unwelcoming. She figured these accusations of terrorism were only cramping Mother's new life and, for that, the lady would only be all the more enraged with her. A surge of anger rose through the maiden's trunk upon considering this and she replaced her worry with one insectoid thought: Kill Venn'lith Mitlan.

"Just so you know, we're going to have a few members of the AYP arriving here for interrogations' observation tomorrow morning, so make ready of them," the desk warden informed Op'yss. "Prime Warden Mitlan won't be among them. She probably has another commercial or announcement to make or something."

"Gods!" the detective countered. "We can't have a cadre of kids milling around this freak! Those little whelps only get in the way. I'm sick of them. Just last week, one of them contaminated evidence at a collision scene and that really ticked me off. They're too young to know what they're doing."

"Royal orders, buddy," Bor'gann shrugged. "Some kind of publicity stunt or something. We gotta do what we've gotta do."

"Hail Cai'lee Du'gonn," Op'yss moaned. " _Whatever_. Sequester her into the visitor's room and keep her strapped. Someone clean her mask off too. _Mama's_ on her way over right now to say goodbye."

As Quen'die waited for her mother to meet her, more tears ran down her face while the worries returned through her mind. She was displayed in the lonely white room like a monument whilst secured to that gurney. The security glass before her was airtight in case she was harboring a biological agent. No matter which way she tried to shift her form, the aches and pains found nowhere for relief. The last time she saw her mother as she drove away into her new life, the maiden had wondered if she would ever see her again. Revisiting her in a dungeon was not quite how she had imagined the reunion.

***

Glynna Reyliss looked haggard. Whatever she was going to say, she hadn't rehearsed, but it was the middle of the night and her daughter was up on the worst charges she could imagine. The lady threw down her bag onto the floor without care and rushed up to her manacled spawn. The look in her reddened emerald eyes was murderous. Mother had been crying.

There was no greeting or introduction. Quen'die supposed this was all one final lecture, or rather, gloating, at her state. Mother buzzed into the speaker separating them. "You picked a terrible night for this, Dee."

Her hold was unbreakable. "I-I don't know what else to say. I suppose your enmity towards Lith compelled you to do this, yes? No, don't answer, Quen'die. Heh, when I thought I had taught you about practicality versus consequence, those lessons sunk in, but as we all know by now, your act was good. It was really, _really_ good. Color me impressed, Quen'die. Your petty jealousies and miscreant ways of coping with them may have sealed the entire earth's fate! I know you are my daughter, and I _am_ sorry to say that, but for the love of all elfdom, and I do mean that literally, I never want to see you again. _Ever!_ "

Despite her declaration, Mother chewed in the frightful sight of her bound daughter. It appeared to the maiden as if she wanted to recant that statement, but that wasn't to happen. "Right. Well, I have people who do care about me to tend to, so I have to get this show on the road. Goodbye."

Lady Reyliss didn't look back. Her posture was tall and proud and decisive. This made Quen'die's heart sink as it appeared Mother was waltzing away from a mythical slain dragon in victory. Although the maiden could not see her face, Mother let out a wail loud enough to be heard through the security glass as she exited after swiping up her bag. The lonely clock on the wall announced her departure at a precise 1:00 a.m.

Some dull time after Mother left, Op'yss and Bor'gann entered the room accompanied by a labcloak who was wheeling in a small tray table with some nasty-looking blades arranged on them. "Okay, Doc, let her rip," Op'yss boomed.

There was no preparation besides the quick, cold swab of alcohol that the labcloak applied to the maiden's arm. A searing pain followed that as she scored a hunk of skin with something that looked like a common cheese grater. As Quen'die moaned in agony from the sharp scald, the labcloak announced that she was clean and good to go. After slapping a manapatch over the wound, everyone who was present peeled off their rebreathers.

"Let's get this one into a holding cell," Op'yss rubbed his tired eyes. "I think I've done my good deed for the day. I really want to get out of here."

"No can do," Bor'gann shook his head with some dramatics. "Those cells are all full. Lots of ration looters now. Everybody's a criminal ever since martial law and we have to keep shuffling them around."

The detective rolled his eyes to that. "Okay, then. What now?"

"We'll throw her in a single cell in general population," Bor'gann rubbed his chin. "Hey! We can put her in the one next to Travius! They're perfect for each other! A real match made in the hells."

"Let's do it," Op'yss nodded his head with some mirth. "I just want to get out of here after I finish filing the report. Tonight has been way too long. Fetch a female guard and let's finish prepping her."

***

It was a dreadful process. The pain and shame continued even though the maiden was no longer racked on that gurney. The burly female guard rushed Quen'die through the corridors after having her disrobe. Her summer gown was tossed aside without any thought into a wheeled bin and Quen'die knew that she would never see it again. Being led through the empty and winding halls of Processing stark-naked was an assault to her sensibilities as she had been never much one for advertising immodesty and was always somewhat annoyed by the maidens who were. Now, she had no choice in the matter, and she used her arms to cover her state as best as she could. Strangely, she felt little embarrassment as her actions were nothing more than reflex. Too many other humiliations had already happened to her that night.

The worst part was the rough "delousing" that the female bull administered. She was so brutal with the agent and it smelled much worse than her minty sunshield; a bit like phony cherries. After that, the torrential rinsing of cold water caused the maiden to suck in a shocked gasp of frozen pain.

"Well, maiden, you get a special gown for a special guest!" the guard announced with feigned glee. The garment in question was bright red whilst bright white words on the back of it displayed in a giant, impacting script, " _Convict_ ," " _Terror_ ," _Flight Risk_ ," " _Shoot to Kill_." A laundry list of transgressions pertaining to Quen'die was advertised for all the denizens of the dungeon to see.

All of the dungeons were arranged by circle, much like other government institutions throughout the kingdoms. Each of the circle's titles was cataloged by the banal names of animals for some psychological reason the logistics designers had fabricated. The guard slapped a yellow and black badge over Quen'die's heart on her dreadful prison gown. "There's your new name, Sweetie: _1-1-2-7 Tortoise_. Remember it and we get along just fine."

They seemed to float to the Circle of Tortoise and Quen'die could not hear anything but the whirlpool of blood rolling through her head. One of the strangest things she had recalled of that night was the fact that she no longer smelled of mint. That delousing agent really cleaned deep, she thought.

"You heard the warden," the guard broke the maiden's trance as they stopped in front of Quen'die's assigned cell. "Tonight you get some palatial new digs all by yourself. Oh, and don't let your new neighbor get the best of you. I hear that one can talk your pointy little ear right off. Isn't that right, Travius?"

To answer the night guard's question, the sound of a chain jangled from beyond the shut cell nearby. "Ahem...I speak when it is needed. You, bull, are not worth the conversation or the lecture."

"Ah, you hear that, 1127? Travius has a lesson to be learned! Isn't that something?" the guard chuckled at that. "What is it this time, Travius? Maybe how the slug is really nothing but a...a bio-organic transmitter designed by the government to snoop on gardeners across the kingdom? That's right, Travius. We can't have all those pesky gardeners causing trouble now, can we?"

His voice echoed back from the cell but it sounded so weak and informal compared to the thunderous tirades he was famous for on his public service announcements over the scrolls and the screen. "Don't presume to patronize me, bull. The idle jibes of the doomed mean nothing to me."

"See, 1127? We're all doomed!" The guard paused at that and stared Quen'die square in the face. All humor had drained from the bull's eyes and her smile was forgotten. Of all of Travius's prattle and doom-mongering, it was quite possible that he was correct this time. "No thanks to you, 1127. Get in there!"

Considering how she was now locked up and no longer relevant, Quen'die could only agree with the old demented demagogue. There was nothing that she could do from inside these cells, chosen by Ui or not. Yes, the world was safe from the demonic Thelemex for the time being, so that could be construed as a minor victory, or rather a speed bump, but once that issue was rectified, the hellish forces would continue with their plans. The moment the maiden heard the deafening clank of her cell's door, she knew that her mission was sealed over like a tomb.

A small, yet bright and horrible light shone at the top of the small quarters. There also stood a cot on one side and a hole in the ground in the other which was her toilet. There seemed to be no way to turn off the light as it failed to respond to her summons. How would she ever get sleep with this, she feared?

Right at that moment, Lauryl'la was asleep and dreaming of looters prancing through her head. The bull-maiden had the luxury of relief from duty right after she had helped bust Quen'die. What a horrible maiden she had become, she thought. Was this to happen a month ago, would it have been possible Lauryl'la would have taken her side? Most likely not. She was the type of maiden who somehow took pleasure in seeing the misfortune of others. The look on her face as Quen'die was shackled was nothing short of self-pleased glee. Venn'lith, On'dinn, Mother and her old best friend were all on the list of the fallen. More than could be certain, this Travius would prove to become an addition.

"I've heard all about your work, young maiden," the voice from beyond her cell wall uttered. "These walls have ears as well as mouths. Quite a valiant attempt, I must say. Have you or others decided to carry on with my mission?"

"I didn't do anything!" she answered the "guru" by annoyed reaction. "I was framed or something."

He laughed and his world-familiar gusto had returned with it. "Oh, we are all framed in some way. You'll see, young maiden. We are all stabbed in the back by stupidity until there is nothing but our spines left to show for it! And when we are so sweet near that vital bone, that is when we have only the choice to act or be paralyzed forever. You, young maiden, have chosen wisely."

"This has nothing to do with your mission, Travius," Quen'die shot. Listening to this guy all night was a definite part of the torture the bulls must have relished to dole out. "I frankly don't know what happened."

She could hear his voice rev-up like it was some sort of machine that only carried the function of persuasion. "But whoever knows what truly happens? That isn't for you to decide, maiden. I could give you scrolls upon scrolls of secrets and knowledge, but what really would that prepare you for? I could lay out every move you had ever thought of making and you would still come to your final conclusion."

For some reason, she could not help but continue to react to his oratory. "What in the Nine is all that supposed to mean?"

"Fate, maiden, _fate_!" his speech was now barks and growls. "You _will_ do what you will. Now, when I say that, maiden, I don't mean you get to just do whatever you want. You don't get to eat cake and custard all day and not become a cow. You _will_ eat that cake, you _will_ become the cow! Dig? Moo! Moo!" Upon that Travius began to cackle. His stint in the dungeons had warped his mind all the more. "It's easy! It's easy because you have no choice in your matter. Just flow with it, maiden! Flow with the tyranny of the universe!"

"That's stupid, Travius," she was already becoming enraged with him. He had to be a Scorpio. She couldn't stand his whinging on the screen when he was a free elf, but being locked up next to him all night and in person was nothing short of a nightmare. "Just go to sleep or something."

"What do you mean, 'sleep!'" he exclaimed. "How could I possibly do that? This is my Wintersfest morning and I am but an elfling and you are the greatest gift that I could ever receive! I knew it too. I heard that name 'Quen'die Reyliss' and I knew you were something special even before I had heard that you did what you did."

For years, there was speculation that this guy was psychic or mystic, or whatever. Upon hearing his declaration of her special status, Quen'die touched her belly right where her mark had rested for her whole life. Could it be possible he knows, she wondered? No, it was just the coincidence of her supposed sabotage and he was impressed by it, as only a true maniac would. That had to be the reason, she figured.

"See, you're chosen. You have no choice in the matter! All those kids I shepherded were just mere practice for the main event. We are all gonna die, maiden. We are all doomed and there is nothing I or anyone can do about it. Don't you know this all revolves around you?"

Quen'die's eyes beamed wide and she was so glad that the guru could not see them from behind his wall. But could he? She continued with the practical theory that this was all coincidence, but his manic tirade held a frightening kernel of sense to it. That notion made her all the angrier and she just wanted sleep so that she could suffer the manaspike the next morning. "Good night, Travius, I am going to sleep. Shut your mouth."

"Maiden, I can shut my mouth all you want, but you can still hear me!" It was relentless. This had to be some sort of softening so she would be dead tired tomorrow for the interrogation. She hoped in desperate silence that another bullish torture would let her off the hook.

As Travius blathered on about fate, stars and the universe, his lecture was halted through the thick walls by a charmless female voice about an hour later. "Shut up, Travius, or I will kill you."

The guru gasped at the threat and took it to heart. Quen'die couldn't even hear him breathing anymore. Who was that lady, she wondered?

Her cell clanked open and a tall figure stood backlit by the hall. The bright light of the cell illuminated her as she sauntered in with an arrogant stride. An eight-foot-tall demon ruffled her wings to accommodate the small confines of the tiny room. Long red hair that rivaled the hue of the maiden's own fell down her back as it was nearly the length of Nanna's. She cracked her neck and locked her green eyes upon Quen'die with no humor, no anger, nothing more than idiotic study. "Arise from your bed, maiden."

Quen'die complied with fear. She lumbered her back against the wall, but could not get far enough away from the beast. She wanted to scream as she could smell its powdery breath and feel its cold body near her.

"I am Quezz. I have known of you since your birth. My master had assigned me to you a mere sixteen years ago and I will have you." The demon raised a cupped hand to Quen'die's face but did not touch it. It seemed almost as if she _could_ not touch it. "It will be assured Mavriel will lose you to me."

Where Mavriel's voice was warm music, this demon's reeds carried nothing but flatness. If a wooden golem could speak, it would sound like Quezz. Where Mavriel was confidence and encouragement, Quezz was a black hole of nothing and even less than that. It was almost as if she cared not for existence in general. Nihilism personified. When she (it?) opened her mouth again, Quen'die wanted to faint as it was the synthetic voice of oblivion. "I hate you."

So this was her asura, Quen'die studied. Mavriel's infernal counterpart. She was pure beauty and hell. Seeing Quezz at last made the maiden realize how much she loved her deva in so many ways. She closed her eyes and dreamed about him battling Quezz for her soul and could manifest the image of him winning as he smote her with a shining sword. The vision boosted her spirit from its depths.

"I hate you too," the maiden braved.

The asura remained locked within her gaze of stupid spite. For just a split second, Quen'die could have sworn that the demon blinked upon hearing her defiance. She was not about to let this abomination have the best of her. Her will was good and her soul was in the right. Even if the beast tore out her throat right then and there, she knew very well that Mavriel would still win this battle.

Quezz was no longer breathing as she didn't really need to. Her mouth hung open in slight wonder as she continued her blatant perusal of Quen'die's face, mere inches away. The demon wanted to savor more fear from the maiden than she was getting and this must have frustrated her. She wagged her moth wings and blotted out the light of the hall behind her for a brief second. "Yes, Quen'die, you will learn to hate me all the more, and when you do, it will be forever. I promise you this."
There's a Weapon That We Must Use

" **F** erd'inn! I can't believe you finally got a hold of me!" Banda Na'rundi boomed into his phone despite the late hour. "Where are you anyway? Sounds like a party over there! You can tell me; this flow is peer-to-peer."

Lord Na'rundi waited after some pause from his old friend. "Yeah, Banda. I hear you, but I'm still at the youth hostel. Heh, this whole end-of-the-world thing has pretty much made getting new digs pointless. Why should I sign a year lease for six months? Anyway, a bunch of masters' school kids came back a while ago from their work details and now they're getting kind of rowdy."

"Look, Ferd'inn, I know all about Quen'die and I have to say that I don't believe the cover story on all the scrolls. I've been talking to my daughter and her friend for the majority of the evening, and I have some pretty strong suspicions about our alleged friends from outer space," the colonel slapped his forehead in embarrassment. He couldn't believe he had just said "friends from outer space."

Quen'die's father raised his tone as the background din of merriment was ever increasing. He hated having to use this public hallway phone. "Yeah, I didn't know what to do. I have a friend of Dee's that has been looking for her too, but now it's all over the scrolls that she's been taken in. Well, he thinks they may be after me too and I just don't know what's going on. My phone's been compromised by the government and I can't call out. When I saw that warning on my screen I figured even you were after me!"

Banda grunted upon hearing that. "I guess the ADF is really trying to cover their bases, huh? Look, you have a safe haven here and I mean that. You may want to take a tram just in case the wardens are after your coach. Bring your friend too. He may be able to shed light on this matter."

It was very tempting, but all feelings of temptation came with a price, so it seemed to Lord Reyliss as of late. Banda was a friend but he was also an attaché to the same government that had hauled his daughter in. Although he figured it only natural for a father to assume accusation of sabotage against his daughter was a set-up, but what if she really was somehow embedded with an offshoot of the Black Hood?

Mavriel had been setting him pretty straight about the situation and he appeared to hold no trust for the official story either. In all honesty, Lord Reyliss wondered, what could a mere theology student know about this problem? Ferd'inn was pleased to know that the lad had helped Quen'die get a job for the exodus effort; but then again, that job had just landed her in the dungeons that evening, and even he was now somewhat suspect. Was Mavriel just a wise young conspiracy theorist, as were many of the student body at the University, or was he truly one of _them_?

Lord Reyliss sucked in a bale full of air to clear his head. Somewhere down the hall of the hostel, he could smell that a gaggle of students were smoking some peppermint-flavored herb. With that, he felt young again, like he was right around the time he met his beautiful Glynna.

Living on the skids was bad enough, but he just wasn't equipped in mind and spirit to live on the lam. He figured that there was a fifty-percent chance that Banda's invite was a government trap and that Mavriel was its trigger. There was no way he could continue living under the veil of mistrust and, whatever the consequence, he wanted this over with.

"Yeah, we'll be there," he blew out after some pause.

***

The Na'rundi villa was a modest one-floor ranch, but large enough to accommodate the growing crowd that evening, Gonduanna and Atlantis had spared no expenses for a colonel and Tam'laa much appreciated the size of the place. Located just on the outskirts of downtown, it wouldn't be too long before Ferd'inn and Mavriel arrived off the Loop Liner, providing that they didn't have any run-ins with the authorities; earthly or otherwise.

"So, let me get this straight one more time before I really end up making a complete fool of myself and possibly harbor a worldwide suspect here," Lord Na'rundi sat down on his divan and rubbed his broad chin. "You say you saw two of the Aldebarans swoop an MR/DD lad right up into the sky for no reason? I mean, that was the clincher for me, and I trust your judgment Tam, but I want to make sure I too didn't just react to a mere accusation."

"That is exactly what happened, Father," she sat down across from him in their long family room as their fireplace smoldered a log. "On'dinn and I both saw it and heard it! There was still some time left before curfew and we saw the little guy trying to get home on foot. On'dinn suggested we give him a ride, but before I could act, two of those things touched down right in front of him and started making fun of him."

"Yeah!" On'dinn cut in. "They were really being cruel and ridiculing of his condition for no reason, and then they just took him away! Right up into the night! It was awful and we could hear him screaming until he was so far up that his voice no longer carried!"

Tam'laa pointed with grim hesitation to the lonely wooden box on the coffee table before them. "And there is his lunchbox. The thing fell right out of the sky, right next to my coach! We overheard him say he worked at Managrill, but I don't know which one. They're all over the place."

"Colonel Na'rundi," On'dinn said with juvenile formality. "These things from those arks are bad news. I mean, they could have just been two bad apples, but I can't say I've ever really trusted them."

Lord Na'rundi's ears twitched. "You are exactly right about that, On'dinn. Although those two did what they did, they may not represent the entirety of the Aldebarans. Every army has a few rotten soldiers. I cannot, being in my position, go pointing fingers around until I can get better facts. Definitely not against an entire planet! The general public is depending on their forces to save our hides and, so far, everything checks out that this is their honest intent. Considering the circumstances, we can't let this out of the bag. No one would believe it, at least not if it weren't all over the screens. You should have at least recorded this. It would take someone like Centeo or even Venn'lith Mitlan to get the world to believe that!"

"Sure," On'dinn groaned. "I don't see either of those two stepping up to that plate any time soon."

"They have no reason to," the colonel shrugged his big shoulders. "Until tonight, except for a few conspiracy theorists, the whole world loves these folks. They, I mean we, depend on them. What is the other option? Assured death by orc? Tam and I saw the transmission of the massacre. It would be terrible if those things got here and we were still on the surface."

The two teens sat there and chewed upon Lord Na'rundi's logic. They weighed that they take their chances living under a possible tyrannical boot of a superior species, or stick around and be killed by the fist of another tyrannical species. It boiled down to those two choices, they figured. Was death better, On'dinn wondered? Could he opt-out of the exodus and just wait around for the foul inevitable?

"As for Dee, I just don't know," the old lord grimaced in sad confusion. "When her mother told me what she did to Lith, I guess I just have a hard time believing that she's completely innocent. But when I think that Lith would actually turn her spite toward Dee to sabotage the exodus - that is going too far. The worst possibility in that scenario is that she was put up to it. You kids have to admit, Dee is kind of naive. A real _Mari'su_."

Tam'laa cracked a small smile at that. It was true, Quen'die might be persuaded with ease, but she wasn't much of a rule-breaker. Whoever did put her up to it would have had to make a strong and very convincing attempt to get her to act upon such a weighty scheme, the maiden guessed. "You're right about that, Father, but I still say she was set up, not put on."

"Yes," On'dinn joined. "And there's no more Black Hood. I am almost sure of it. Once Travius was nabbed, that was pretty much disbanded."

"Yes, On'dinn, but these kinds of organizations are loose and can find their way back into charter," the old gold elf remained in concerned thought. "If there is a 'Black Hood 2' they may have absolutely no connection to Travius. Maybe they followed his preaching from afar, or maybe they just like the name! You have to remember, that freak was all over the screen before being busted. He had a pretty high profile and reached many, many people."

Banda slapped his thick thighs and got off the divan. "All right, Ferd'inn and this Mavriel guy are coming over either way, and I think we should get their take on all of this before we begin making calls. I'll be honest, I think this situation is a bit sketchy and I know I am sticking my neck out regardless, but I have made my decision."

Tam'laa got up and grabbed the wooden box. "Don't you think we should at least call a couple of the Managrills in the area and see if they have a disabled lad working for them and then let them know what happened?"

"They'd all be closed by now, Tam," her father answered. "I understand that timing is important, but I can't just go around calling all of the many Managrills and ask about missing employees. Just by having Ferd'inn over tonight, I am getting in way too deep here. I know; check the inside of the box for an address. Maybe his mother put it there in case it got lost."

Tam'laa took her father's advice with some apprehension. There was something so ghastly about peeking into this kid's life. A bit relieved, Tam'laa found the box was bare of even crumbs. The lad must have kept his personal information on himself somewhere. Wherever he was. Her heart sank again for the little elf and she bit down on her tongue so that she would not become engulfed in her tears again.

"No dice, Father."

"All right," he nodded. "We'll just keep it safe in the kitchen, and when I get more info on the matter, maybe we can start calling up in the morning."

A tense half hour and quarter of a fire log later, the house rang out, " _Colonel Na'rundi, you have visitors!_ " The three jumped in their places at the sudden swath to the silence. On'dinn almost dropped the small plate of fried tomato that Tam'laa had offered him with a squeak.

"Ferd'inn!" the colonel boomed upon seeing his old friend illuminated in the blue of the bug light. "I see you guys made it without getting arrested!"

Under usual circumstances, that would have been a lame witticism, but Lord Reyliss was worried, in all honesty, that he was being sought by the law just because his daughter was demonized the world over. "Thanks for having me tonight, Banda."

Na'rundi nodded. "Not a problem. And I take it you are Mavriel, yes?"

Behind Lord Reyliss stood a very tall young elf with long blond hair. Even in the gloomy light, Na'rundi could tell this lad was somewhat different, and that oddity lay within the eyes. It was almost as if the elf knew so many things that he was rendered far wiser than his age. The discrepancy wasn't entirely uneasy as Banda felt a small wave a calm wash over him for a moment. It was no wonder why his friend found trust and solace in this one and, considering his circumstances, Ferd'inn needed it.

"Ah, yes, Colonel Na'rundi, I am Mavriel," he split a small smile.

"Well, it seems we have much to discuss tonight, and I suppose we might as well since I'm up for it and can't get to sleep after all of this," Banda beckoned the pair inside. "Can I get you something to drink? Maybe some fried tomato?"

***

The small square grotto nestled inside the circular villa treated the three to the warm night air and a blanket of stars. Daylight would not arrive for hours and On'dinn began to feel sleepy from the drama and the food. Between the tomato and all the leftovers from work, he wondered how he could even move. Surrendering to these sensations, he settled back into one of the many deckchairs.

"Hey! What's that?" the young lad pointed at the faint sparkle that crept into the corner of his eye. He was startled for a moment until he realized that the thing was inanimate. As he adjusted his sights, he could see a carved acacia statue of an ancient Gonduannian warrior guarding himself with a small scimitar arced into a wicked curve. The blade appeared real and battle-ready. "It looks pretty wild. Did your father get that back home or something?"

"He not only got it, he earned it," Tam'laa straightened herself with pride on her chair. "That is the genuine sword from the Thuless'in general Sovtek Chek'yiv. My father's squad defeated him in battle during one of those border disputes we had with their provinces a while back. He was a lot younger then. It's one-hundred-percent cold iron. Pretty capital, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," On'dinn stifled a pout. "You know how I get about all that war stuff. I just thought you guys got it from some wild expedition in the jungles or something."

"Nope," the maiden quipped. "Father fought for it fair and square. Hate to burst your bubble."

On'dinn smiled at her comeback. "No worries. Bubble intact."

Tam'laa turned her attentions over to their guest. On'dinn noted how she continued to run her eyes over the Avalonian and he couldn't help but hold back a pang of jealousy. Mavriel was a physically superior specimen of an elf and he had to deal with that in his own way; it was as simple as that. There was nothing at all wrong with him as a person, and he had to admonish himself for the ugly feeling. Envy was just so unbecoming he had taught himself years ago and sometimes he wondered if he used his mouth to compensate for his frail frame. He made a mental note not to interrupt or trip over either of his friends' words in an unconscious attempt to sabotage their conversation.

"So, how has your summer under martial lockdown been coming along, Mav?" she called to him in the informal, much to On'dinn's chagrin.

"Not so bad," he answered while still staring up into the night. "It's been giving me plenty of time to study. I've been whiling away in the hostel, mostly."

Tam'laa let out a suggestive chuckle. "I've heard from the grapevine that you've been whiling away with Quen'die Reyliss too. Hmm? Didn't you get her that job at the docks?"

The question broke his seeming trance. "No, I didn't. That was your friend, eh 'Face,' I believe you call him. I just thought it would be a good decision for her. Something different. She was originally considering nursing, if I recall. Frankly, I don't see her that much. I suppose her duties have kept her busy and she goes out to eat with her father from time to time. That lord is always so busy himself trying to put things back together that nobody seems to have a moment for anyone anymore. I suppose you know that he is suffering a separation currently. Although I have been helping him through that, I'm really not at liberty to go into too much detail, so please forgive me."

What a block of wood, thought On'dinn. The lad chided himself for breaking his own anti-envy rule for the night and thinking like a spoiled elfling. Mavriel was all right as far as he was concerned, but he was so different too. So formal and polite, yet preoccupied with things like nature and stars and such simple matters that he wondered if this elf could study a ball of pocket fluff for hours and be entranced by it. Mavriel was a tall, strapping elf and all the females went goofy over him at first sight, but when he opened his mouth, the lad was something of a nerd. It must have been a Avalonian thing, On'dinn figured, and he felt sheepish for being so insensitive to other cultures.

"So, what do you know about Quen'die getting accused of terrorism?" On'dinn blurted. He hoped that the elf found no spite in his voice, but the question's candor was shocking nonetheless.

Mavriel rested his solid chin in his hand. Tam'laa noted that he almost seemed too distressed by On'dinn's interrogation and it looked as if the Avalonian was going to cry as he folded his face into a deep frown. "I suppose I have some theories, but I'm nearly sure that our friend is innocent of these charges."

"But how? " Tam'laa threw out her wiry arms in confusion. "I love Dee to death too, but how do I know she isn't truly involved. The screen said they just busted her maybe a couple of hours ago and that she was hiding in some old substation. Well, according to the news report. She obviously knew she was in the wrong or otherwise she wouldn't have tried to hide from the authorities if she weren't guilty somehow."

On'dinn thought back to how he was involved in that very plan and he slunk back again in his seat without realizing it. When he had learned of her arrest on the Na'rundi's manascreen, he had almost choked on his tomato. Worried thoughts of his friend undergoing the biomana, or worse, the manaspike, ran through his head and he was certain that she would give him up as an accomplice whether she wanted to or not.

What bothered the lad the most was how could the bulls have so easily found her. She was in that station for two hours maximum before the announcement of her arrest hit the media. Knowing his luck, On'dinn figured Quen'die was blaming him that very moment for snitching and that would make such logical sense considering how hasty the arrest was. One set-up after another. Poor maiden.

The few people who could have known about the safehouse were Germander, Poplar and Minn'dre, as those three were the only others besides On'dinn and Travius who had been aware of that haven. Germander and Poplar were older and he hadn't heard hide or hair from either of them since that fateful night at the Royal Arena. Travius was locked away for good in a dungeon and might not have even known that the world was about to end.

As for Minn'dre, On'dinn hadn't spoken to her since she told him off over the phone. Her excuse was oblique and angry. That maiden might very well have brushed him away for another guy the more he thought about it. That was a hard concept for the elf to swallow, but, were it the case, he would have respected her much more if she had just told him the truth straightforward. Females leave guys for other guys all the time, he knew well, and she shouldn't have been ashamed for it.

Whoever was the culprit to his friend's arrest, On'dinn could not figure out any logical source. Mysteries like this frustrated him so, and he feared that his name would soon be blared across all media the instant the biomana tagged Quen'die's recollection of him. Knowing this, he ached to confide his fears to Tam'laa and Mavriel, but that could get him arrested as well, so he believed.

Madame Orsi. On'dinn's heart sunk as his mind filed her name in its catalog. Tam'laa and Mavriel were chatting away like old school chums and the tone in the gold elf's voice was becoming more and more suggestive, but he couldn't concentrate on idle envy as his mind was racing in secret. Maybe bulls had knocked down Quen'die's grandmother's door while they were on the run and they must have forced it out of her. They could have awoken the poor old lady out of bed and biomana'd her and wrenched the memory of that evening out of her brain. That had to be it, On'dinn decided.

"Uh, yeah, Managrill sucks," On'dinn blurted out in order to appear that he had been paying attention to his mates.

Tam'laa looked over at the lad like he was a mental case. "Yeah, we all know Managrill sucks, On'dinn, but that isn't important. I was just telling Mav about that poor kid and the aliens that practically kidnapped him."

Returning to a logical point in their conversation, On'dinn cleared his throat. "Uh, sorry. Yeah, I know. So, what do you think about all of this, Mavriel? I mean, that was not a by-the-scroll arrest. It wasn't even curfew yet and they just took him off into the sky!"

The two looked at Mavriel and could see that the Avalonian seemed unsurprised by Tam'laa's account. It wasn't a very comforting reaction to their story, but he must have known something more about them.

"Mav, what is it with these Aldebarans?" Tam'laa prodded. "I mean, what has your experiences been with them? The few I've run into at my assignment seem friendly enough, but what if it's all an act? After all, they want us to take this alien pill, put it in our bodies and then just trust them to spirit us away to another planet! Now, I understand the other option is certain death but, after tonight, I think something fishy is going on."

"And I have always thought this whole arrangement was suspect," added On'dinn. "When I got news of the APB out on Quen'die, it made me all the more ill with worry. I've known that maiden long enough and I know that she didn't bomb the docks. I personally think these Aldebarans somehow set her up just because she works with that Thelemex stuff."

"Yeah, and I don't like how they are so embedded with our government and law enforcement," Tam'laa looked around with suspicion as if a bull were listening in. "It seems to be all they care about. It's almost like the old military saying about keeping your enemies closer."

Mavriel looked up once again to the network of shining stars overhead and saw that the purple bruise of a cloud bank was rolling in from the west. The infernal forces were slipping and letting themselves be known to those they considered weak and powerless like the unfortunate disabled lad. So typical of those fiends to prey on the helpless. The very notion of it made the angel grind his teeth in holy anger as he wanted to employ retribution for that molested soul.

"On'dinn and Tam'laa," he began as he stood up to his full imposing height. "I have heard everything you have said and I cannot abide by this any longer. Quen'die Reyliss is my ward and we must have her freed no matter the cost. These Aldebarans you speak of are nothing that they say they are. They come directly from what your people call the Nine Hells. Not from another star, but another dimension; a fourth dimension, if you will. We will need each other's help from this point on, or you are not doomed, but damned."

"That's crazy!" On'dinn cried as he launched himself out of his seat. "You don't know what you're talking about; you're clearly nuts!"

Tam'laa too couldn't believe the angel's weird report. "I think you had better leave this house, Mavriel. There is only so much I can process and believe, and you just took a left turn into fantasyland."

As Mavriel disrobed to full nudity, the two gasped in horror. Whatever he was about to do was beyond anything even the insane Travius could muster. On'dinn skittered back toward the iron scimitar resting in the Na'rundi's sculpture. "Get back Mavriel! Don't make me slice you with this!"

Scintillating bright wings that looked like they could fit on a great white eagle of gigantic proportions appeared just as suddenly as the arks had not long ago. Their strange acquaintance glowed like a sun in the middle of the night, but his rays were soothing to the eyes, instead of burning to them. He was much like the Aldebarans, but so brilliant that it appeared to be a mockery of their dull presence.

"Lay down your arms, On'dinn Jak'sin. You and your people are in terrible danger. I have it upon the highest Authority that we must rectify your problem. We shall design a plan for your friend tonight. I am the only weapon you will need."
Ha! Now You Can't See Me

**O** rsi Reyliss was beside herself. Seeing that her old manaphone had bullied her with a government-sponsored warning every time she summoned it, she knew that she too was part of her poor granddaughter's dragnet. By reflex, she chanted to the little device once again only to be greeted with the same dire announcement - "THIS FLOW HAS BEEN BLOCKED BY THE ATLANTEAN DEFENSE FORCES AND THE MUNICIPALITY OF COROSA CITY. REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE. AN ARRESTING OFFICER WILL ARRIVE SHORTLY."

Despite her growing years, Orsi was still in incredible shape. Many of her contemporaries fell to the traits of older age such as loss of muscle tone, shrinkage, or a wobbly pot belly. Due to a combination of yoga, herbalism, meditation, and the secret diet of the mystics, she felt like the adventurous youth she was fifty years ago as she had scaled mountain ranges in search of cryptic life. Perhaps scaling her building for a rooftop hiding spot was in order, she wondered? The only problem with that was she would not be fast enough to elude a speeding cyclejock with screaming gumballs.

She wondered if the bulls had nabbed her son. He was still stewing in his woe in that cramped youth hostel, and the more she thought about it, the more she wished that she had the room to accommodate him for a while. All the psychic precognition in the universe could not have predicted the one-eighty his wife had performed almost overnight. Yes, Orsi was guilty of breaking many a lad's heart back in the day, but that was well before she had settled down with Ferd'inn's father. Perhaps she viewed herself as old fashioned, but a commitment should be honored, especially when the kids were involved. Many nights in the last month, she had prayed that Glynna would come to her senses and, with all hope, back home.

What a dreadful development, she thought. Even if she were cast into the long arms of the law, what real information could they get from her? The manascreen announced Quen'die's arrest and the lady felt like caving in on herself in grief for the maiden. Once her granddaughter was put under the biomana, it would be quite obvious that the old lady was truly ignorant of Quen'die's alleged involvement with a suspected terrorist organization, but other things could slip through, like Mavriel. It was almost certain; the authorities would siphon her granddaughter's memory of him regardless.

It was not a time for tears, she mused as she thought of a more esoteric solution to her problem. The ornate cabinet before her greeted the lady with the familiar roils of scents and aromas from around the world. Herbs, potions, unguents, and ampoules concocted from when-only-the-gods-knew were all accounted for and they were her lifelong friends.

Looking out her window, she could see the grey dawning sky. There would be a horrible rain again today and this made her heart sink some. A little sunlight could always lift the spirits, and she needed that more than ever at that moment.

It had been hours since the announcement of Quen'die's accusation hit the media and now that she was in custody, it could prove to be mere minutes by the time the authorities made their rounds in this case at hand and come for Orsi like a fox to chickens. The old lady knew that she had no more time to waste on worry and strategy. This option had to work.

Throughout her travels, Orsi was always quite open about her studies of the hidden world. All of which was unseen was a mystery that only opened up another mystery and, for a lady who loved puzzles, such was a gift that continued to give. Most folk across the kingdoms of the world were treated to intrigue with her incantations, potions and predictions, and were welcoming to them for the most part. Some communities, however, would shun the lady and one time in Thuless'in, she was almost burned at the stake for witchery. By pure luck, a young lord came to her defense to quell the rage of the ignorant and rescued the maiden adventurer from certain immolation. That lord was her Ferd'inn Reyliss Jr. who would become the father of her child.

Amongst the odd ingredients in the cabinet rested tomes upon tomes of ancient knowledge. These were real books written in real ink (sometimes blood) that could not be lost over the flow in a freak accident such as the documents of the modern day. One grimoire that caught her eye was entitled, " _Practical Transmutations and Alterations_."

For the most part, Orsi liked to stick to scrying and prediction. Castings such as these were known as "divination" in her circles. Transmutation was a horse of a different color and could be quite fatal if done wrong. They were, by and large, spells of change. Change in form, ability, sight, sound and all the other senses were cataloged under this sphere of knowledge. With this school of mysticism, one could change the color of her hair or make a cake taste like sewage, or even render one invisible.

Today's special at Chateau de' Orsi was an invisibility potion that she needed to study, mix and drink in a limmerflash. The ancient text ran across the page and she tried to make sure that all was accurate, and surgically so. One miscalculation or mispronunciation could render the poor old lady in some horrible transformation or a permanent predicament. Quickness and utter care needed to be balanced. She could already hear those bulls bounding up the staircase in her mind like a herd of brutish elephants ready to break through at any moment.

Breathing with an even meter, the lady arranged all the necessary ingredients in a neat row. She attributed her tidiness and order to her Virgo birth and was quite grateful for that. Were she some sloppy chaos magician, there would be no way that she could hope to get the operation underway in due time. Most of that tripe were drug addicts and Scorpios anyway.

Invisibility was a strange creature to cast. Permanence was the decisive risk to this particular incantation and, if done wrong, the caster could blink out for only a mere second - or never reappear. The entire school of transmutation was complex to top it off. Not one single recipe was basic or humble. Orsi chided herself when she took a peek at the large clock against the wall. Straight and steady was the only way this dangerous task could be performed in the short time she had allotted to her.

Her brow dripped with sweat as she mixed the strange herbs into a small bowl and mashed them with an iron pestle. With every revolution of the mix she weighed the concoction on a small scale. She needed to focus as she kept coming up short. She figured it was no time to be timid, but it was easier to add than subtract in this matter.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell that the morning was almost at its full glory as the blue gloaming was coming to an end. Out of the corner of her ear, she could hear herself choke back a sob. Although she was in a tense moment, she could not let the humiliation of her imminent arrest creep into this vital process. The only things she needed to care for were mixing and measuring.

At last, as she topped the recipe off with the eye of a long-dead newt, she gave the bowl a final weigh-in. Four grams on the dot, Orsi found and smiled to herself at her perfection. In the back of her mind, she wished that she were at a Witch's Ball and had entered in a timed contest. She would have definitely won with this brew. Checking the clock, she learned that she had mixed it all up in ten minutes flat.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in the aromatic air around her to ready herself for the vocal incantation. The book was written in old Kumari and it boasted the best spell for keeping unseen. Her head was clear and her mind was armed. " _Hrush'yiv, nedda vir, yar nomi!_ "

The inflection and pronunciation were perfect as far as she could hear herself. Every vital pause and diphthong was in proper form and placement. This cast was sure to be a success, she noted, and that knowledge gave her strength to tip the bowl back and finish all four grams.

Down the hatch it went. What a horrible flavor, Orsi winced. The potion tasted like a combination of saltwater, anchovies, burnt leaves and talcum powder. It was too bad, she noted as the aftertaste rolled in the back of her mouth, that she couldn't have sweetened it with some honey but, in doing so, she ran the risk of turning herself into a warthog. The civil wardens would have loved that when they got there.

Standing there stunned by the foul taste, the old mystic needed to employ the final test; she needed a mirror. It needed to be of full length so she could be sure that all of her was invisible and not just portions.

Remembering the old floor model in the corner of the front room, she yanked off the paisley cloth that covered it. She wasn't trying to hide from her image by any means, but as her flat was only so big and since she had accrued so much over her ninety years, some items had to give way.

She kept her eyes closed as she didn't want to see herself when she opened them. It was strange, she thought, as she didn't feel any different other than the sick taste that lingered in her mouth. It was possible that the wardens would locate her by the stink of her breath alone. The mystic made a mental note to brush, floss and rinse when this was all over.

Upon peeling her lids, she saw nothing but the room instead of her form in that big mirror. Once again, Madame Orsi congratulated herself on a job well done. There was no way that the bulls would find her unless she allowed them to bump into her. But what could they do even if they did, she wondered? Elves were visual animals and they only believed in what they saw, and detectives were especially guilty of this. If they could not record it with eyes or ears, it didn't happen. She was golden at this point.

One glaring piece of evidence of her suspicious activity they could find was her cabinet. It was still open and in the throes of a blatant casting. All of her tomes and ingredients were out in the open and the wardens would find that a point of interest, without a doubt.

She rushed over to the site to commence the vital cleanup. Looking back as she trotted through the room, she laughed as she saw the slip covers and sheets swirling on their own as if they were possessed by some mischievous banshee. Orsi made a point to use this as a prank on Quen'die when she got back home. If ever she did.

Although she was invisible, she could still feel that she was as solid as ever. Sweat was pouring down her forehead and sides from the strain and stress of her time limit, but she was also relieved to know that she had done it with success. If it weren't for the rude visit that was certain to come around at any moment, she would have baked a little cake and had some wine with it to celebrate her magical skill.

After shutting the cabinet, and giving the casting site a once-over, the lady did indeed pour a small glass of port just to kill the nasty taste in her mouth. She sat back in her favorite chair and watched the tiny glass raise and lower in the thin air. Her sorrow for her family and the fear of being hauled in for all but nothing was trumped by the ridiculous phenomenon before her. Madame Orsi laughed and laughed and it never felt so good in her long life. She only wished that there was someone for whom she cared around to share the mirth and amazement. The risk of the spell was worth it, she figured. Sometimes wonder is born from bad situations.

As bad situations had a tendency to worsen as well, it was not long before Madame Orsi could hear the dawning's chorus of birds and traffic trampled by the clunky rifling of armored boots growing ever louder. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, she thought as she had sunk the potion and tested it with only mere moments to pour the celebratory port.

These armors cared not to be furtive about their arrival. They must have thought her to be nothing more than a little old and rather helpless lady who would not dare attempt to protest whatever it was they would have in store for her. Such disrespect and stupid carelessness, she lamented.

The voices were three: two male, one female, as they chatted amongst each other in arrogant tones while they ascended the stairs. Although they were quite loud for the early morning hours, Orsi couldn't make out the exact words they were saying, just raw noise and volume. But what were their species, she wondered? It was certain there were elves amongst their cadre, but what if one of those demons was in tow? The beasts would patrol alongside their earthly counterparts with a high regularity, and this caused the lady some fret. If one of their numbers were indeed infernal, her mystical potion might as well have been orange juice. The thing would see right through it as if she had never mixed it in the first place. The elves conducting the bust would not be able to see her, but their little hellish lapdog would have no problem.

"Orsi Reyliss, this is the Corosa City Civil Wardens. Open the door! We have some questions we'd like to ask you about the arrest of your granddaughter." The bark was filtered through one of those wicked-looking visors that not only allowed communication over distance, but intimidated the people.

She sat in silence and closed her eyes, as if it mattered, and waited for the door to come bursting in, which it did after a couple minutes of stillness. The old lady bit her tongue in anticipation for the explosion of the cherrywood door so that she wouldn't let go a yelp in shock when the bulls came charging in. No matter how she prepared herself for the inevitable, she knew that the very moment it came shattering in, containing her shock would be more than difficult.

They gave her some leeway. One of the armors allowed her a little bit of warning as he broke the silent wait from outside, "Okay, we're gonna have to be rough with this. Stand back, guys, I'm gonna break it in."

Splinters and molding flew throughout the front room and Orsi closed her invisible lids to guard against miniscule shards of the wood from firing into her eyes. Unseen did not mean invincible and she wondered if her blood were invisible too.

Upon opening her eyes, she saw her legally-sanctioned intruders. One of them was a captain, as could be seen by the blue shoulder cape dangling down his left side. The wardens meant big business if they had one of those along for this job. All three had their visors down as they hunkered in a defensive stance in the event someone was planning on fighting back.

The female was tall and bulky for her gender and, for just a moment, Orsi wondered if she was an infernal due to her stature, but the demons never wore Atlantean armors. This specimen was just a big maiden and a rather imposing one at that.

The third and final bull was more like a bullock. He was just as bunkered in armor as the other two, but he must have been some kind of specialist. His suit was ill-fitting as it was about one size too big for his frame and, considering his build, the model must have been the smallest the department could offer the lad. The armor was bristling with a plethora of devices strapped about it and he wheeled in a small tripod from behind him. He must be a biomana tech, thought Nanna.

"Wen'cis, keep the door covered while we creep through," the captain buzzed with a whisper.

"Aye, Cap'n," he cracked back, not taking his eyes off his position.

As Wen'cis held his point, the others split into two directions. Madame Orsi bit her tongue again, not in fear, but anger at what they had done to her poor door. She made a conscious effort not to shift her weight, as her chair was an antique and was prone to creaking against the parquet. She prayed in silence that none of them had the hankering to sit down on top of her.

The captain was but inches from her face as he kept his handcaster steady and drawn out for violence. Just for a couple of seconds, the point of the grisly device was square in the lady's face as he pivoted about. That about made Orsi lose it as she literally stared down certain death. Were she to let go of her nerve and emit a squeal, the officer was apt to let loose the red mana right into her forehead.

As luck would have it, not a one of this flock was demonic and, as long as she kept her wits, Nanna would remain unseen. Those visors could see through a terrific range of spectra, but the potion blocked all of them; even infra-red.

"It's still dark in here," the captain intoned. "Go low-light." Upon the issuance of the order, a pneumatic squeal winced out of their helmets in unison. The eyeslots of the headgear shone a menacing red.

"I'll take the witch's bedrooms. Huff'ra, continue to case the front room. Wen'cis, remain at the door." The captain crept like a snail down the hall of the flat en route to his destination. With each step, the hardwood under him protested against his armored weight.

Huff'ra, the female, crept over to Orsi's cabinets with the same creaking slowness as the captain. The moment she flung open the doors, a burst of thunder shook the whole flat. "What in the Nine is this stuff?"

More airy squelches squeaked out of her helmet from the manamirrors mounted on its side as she snapped image after image of the old lady's components. "All this must be millennia old! She has real books printed in ink and all these herbs and stuff."

"Make sure none of it's contraband," Wen'cis hollered over from his station. "Maybe we can tack on a lotus juice charge as well."

This made Madame Orsi feel violated. All those lovely ingredients and what-nots were a result of her life's adventures. As she ruffled through her memory, she tried to recall if anything in there was indeed contraband. The bulls would be sure to freak out once they saw the few tomes that were composed in real orc blood, but at their age, they just looked like run-of-the-mill ink.

"There's so much stuff here," Huff'ra lamented as she spun about. "It's kind of like a little museum. Anyway, everything in the cabinets appears to be legit. Just spices and junk like that."

Orsi rolled her eyes to that. Junk indeed, she thought with a raise of her invisible nose. These bulls were too blind to see the practicality of her collection. After all, since they were all but helpless in finding what was in front of their faces, how could they acknowledge the hidden world? Upon realizing that, the old lady smiled.

The captain came lumbering back down the hall, his cape swirling about with his movement. "At ease! The bedrooms are a no-go. The one the maiden is reported to be holing up in is basically empty, but we figured that since we pretty much took all of her belongings into custody upon her arrest. She was living down to the bone."

"Sure, "Huff'ra agreed. "You don't exactly lug along heavy furniture with you when you go on the lam."

Wen'cis looked back as he was still guarding the outer hallway. "Yeah, but wasn't she just staying here temporarily? Weren't her folks in a separation or something? That's what the mother reported."

The captain chuckled through his filter, "I guess if I were raising a terrorist, I'd start pointing fingers at my spouse eventually."

Madame Orsi could not abide by that. Calling her granddaughter a terrorist and implying that her parents were incompetent in her own home was downright dreadful. Perhaps it was reflex, or perhaps it was the bravery lent to her by the invisibility, but either way, protest had to be made. "Oh, what an idiot," she blurted.

Turning his armored head toward his partner, the captain tapped his helmet. "Huff'ra, did you just call me an idiot?"

"Huh?" the bull stood to attention. "No! I mean, I've thought about it before, but...no."

"Very, droll," the captain groaned. "Okay, we need to check behind some of this furniture here. I think we have someone hiding from us! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

After the lead bull sang his song of challenge, the three had hunkered back down into their stealth positions. This was going to be a long morning, Orsi thought, as another blast of thunder shook the dawn.

Huff'ra was at eye level with the small glass of port resting on the little table next to Orsi. Her unseen eyes widened with fear as she had forgotten all about her drink from earlier. If the bulls didn't leave in another ten minutes or so, she would reappear right before their visors and that could be a deadly shock for all of them.

"Captain!" she crackled in excitement. "I found something! Glass of wine that is half-full! Someone was sitting right here not long ago!"

He sauntered over to the evidence. "Always the optimist, eh, Huff? It's nothing. Don't worry about it. Could have been here for days for all we know."

After another interminable once-over, Wen'cis' array of equipment began singing to life all over his suit. It was apparent the gear was for secured communications. " _3319. Unit 3319, please respond._ "

"3319 here," Wen'cis buzzed back into his ungainly suit. "Talk to me!"

" _Uh, yeah, the youth hostel is a no-go. The arrestee's father already bolted off. We just managed to bust a pair of Kumarian twins with a pound of peppermint weed._ "

In the background of the comm, two female voices could be heard sobbing. In perfect unison, they bleated in broken Atlantean, "Please do not be telling the parents!"

"Nah...let 'em go," Wen'cis responded to the remote officer. "Just give 'em a warning. We have bigger fish to fry and the dungeon's all full-up with looters. They don't know any better anyway. It's legal where they're from! But, to be safe, you better impound the contraband for evidence, if you know what I mean."

After a short, silent pause, the comm array sang back, " _Gotcha. Right...evidence for later_."

At that, Comm Officer Wen'cis laughed, "3319 out."

With every moment the bulls waded through the flat, they would brush by Orsi with dangerous proximity, and she was measuring the minutes she had left of her altered state by the grand clock installed across from her. She knew that the potion was mixed to perfection and the time was wasting. Already, she was sweating again just thinking about it and she prayed to the Twelve that her luck would be in.

Nervously, she watched the bulls mill about her molested flat like she was a spectator at a grim ringball match. After some time, they stood upright again as the captain gestured in the air with a flat palm. "All right, we're letting our imaginations get away with us. We have better things to do. This place is dry. We already have the prime suspect. Who cares if her nanna gets hauled in at this point? Let's pack it up."

One by one, the bulls filed out of her apartment leaving with nothing but a broken doorframe. It would take a complete replacement to fix that, Orsi moaned to herself. So pointless, she lamented further. Perhaps it would have just been best to let them in like a kind old lady and suck her memories out from under the biomana, but that might incriminate her dearest Mavriel. Maybe what was done was all for the best, she wondered?

Letting go of a gust full of relieved breath, Madame Orsi slunk back in her chair, grateful that the wardens had left her flat in time. Outside, a terrible bang of thunder let loose a low grumble throughout the guts of the old neighborhood. Looking over to the big mirror, she once again saw herself and laughed.
eM pleH

**F** or three days, Quen'die had been in the custody of the Corosa City Dungeon. She couldn't remember how many times she had been subjected to the biomana scanners, but the bulls insisted with much force. With each and every pass at her brain and memories, the maiden felt more ill and lightheaded. By the umpteenth swipe at her grey matter, her nose began to bleed.

This brutal subdual of her consciousness could not be healthy, she worried. It was certain that the government didn't really care because, as far as they were concerned, she was the prime enemy of elfdom and the proximate cause of their assured doom.

At first, the process was kind of intriguing. Just as On'dinn had informed her, she was treated to memories so old that the faint ones were vivid and the lost ones were like yesterday. She couldn't believe she had loved mashed carrots as an infant. Perhaps that was why her folks nicknamed her "the Bunny," she decided. When she thought about it, she always considered carrots disgusting as their inherent minerals stung her mouth and gums. Tastes change over time, she figured.

One of the most amazing memories was from the time that she was about three years old. It involved Kaedish's birth. He was so small then and she could see her own tiny frame hopping up and down next to Mother's hospital bed as the lady rocked him in her arms. Mother looked not much older than Quen'die did now. There was no strain on her face and her skin was so smooth back then. One of the most dazzling elements of this old vision was Mother's hair, as it was so long that she had to wrap it around her neck like a scarf as she lay in bed. Kaedish's little hands kept trying to grab the bright red rope and Mother would laugh at its tickling sensation.

No matter how many times the inquisitors ran her through the scanner, the memories never got old or trite. She almost enjoyed these moments as she was, at last, back in a space of peace and love and away from the institutional reek of the dank dungeons. Even the heavy sting of carrots was preferable to the chemical stink of oranges and lemons which scented the foul cleansing agents the city used in heavy amounts throughout the complex of punishment.

It was Quezz. That fiend. Never would the demon dare touch Quen'die, but she was always so close to her face. With the end of each review of her short and sweet life, the scanner would leave the flow only to be replaced by the mannequin-like glare of Quezz. No matter how long she was in the cold personal bubble of the demon, the elfmaid could not become accustomed to her raw evil. This female, or whatever she was, served as a small preview of an eternity spent in the Nine Hells.

Whenever the earthly bulls left Interrogations, Quezz's topics of conversation would turn toward the supernatural. She knew very well from the get-go that Quen'die was aware of the true nature of the "Aldebarans." Quezz also knew that her incarceration was a set-up and that the whole debacle was a ruse. Over and over again, the asura would bully the maiden with assurances of eternal damnation while she continued to ridicule Mavriel and his abilities.

It was quite apparent Mavriel and Quezz were never the best of mates despite having worked together from time immemorial. Before the "Great Enlightening," as the asura called her schism with Paradise _ad nauseum_ , she too, was a deva. Although she was never distinct about when this had happened, as per Quen'die's timeline, this past revolt was not long before the awakening of elfdom. Either way, to Quen'die, that was a long time ago; thousands upon thousands of years, if modern faethropology were correct.

From what the maiden could gather from the demon's impassionate tale of celestial civil war, Ui was to forge self-aware life in the image of the angels. It explained why these terrible visitors resembled her own kind in so many ways; right down to the pointed ears. Many of the angelics had become disturbed by the concept. These newcomers would have so many more benefits to their freedoms as the angels were now forced to serve them. The deva class (or choir as the fiend put it) had been especially vocal about this idea as they would be the ones most in direct contact with the elves. They were to be guardians, stewards and couriers to this new host.

So many angels amongst that choir had loved their new assignments, while so many others had felt degraded. Mavriel fell in with the former, Quezz, the latter. It seemed to be expected the more she spoke of Mavriel with her consistent vitriol.

The fiend claimed Mavriel was a suck-up and a rather inefficient specimen of his kind. This was one of the reasons she would spout that he was sure to fail his assignment. Over and over, Quezz would slander Ui and Mavriel and any other angelic that came to her mind as she considered them to be "throwbacks," or "flying sheep." It was Quezz's belief that Quen'die's beloved deva just did not have the facility to succeed, and that was the long and short of it.

To Quen'die's knowledge, elves were evolved dolphins, or so the schools taught. Quezz was an infernal and a definite liar to boot. The maiden made a mental note to pick Mavriel's mind about this if ever she saw him again. Either way, the elfmaid cared not to debate the points of her species' origin with the asura. In truth, she didn't want to speak a single word to her.

Whether or not the fiend was just trying to scare her or convince herself of a hopeful victory, the demon wasn't completely off-base, the maiden dreaded. As she had been cramped in that little hole for three days, there was no sign of Mavriel. Why could her guardian not swoop through that stony roof of her cell and spirit her away to freedom? Why was it that most everything that had happened prior to her arrest was all her doing and not the valiant machinations of this deva? Was Quezz right? Did Ui, in all seriousness, choose a total boob to oversee such an important event in the entirety of elven history?

While Quezz was abusive to her ears and her emotions, her mortal counterparts had little problem with hands-on communication. The inquisitors were not shy about punching, kicking and slapping the maiden. Their force was nothing damaging, but it was just enough to send shocks up Quen'die's spine when the blows connected. The worst part of it all was the many times they wouldn't. She never knew if the raised hand was going to deliver pain or idle fear.

For the bulk of the interrogation, the bulls wanted to know who was working with her. Her scan's files put On'dinn Jak'sin on the list of suspects, but they could not tag Mavriel with any due accuracy. Quen'die supposed that her memories of him were somehow blocked from recording due to some supernatural safeguard that neither she nor the wardens could explain. This situation put Quezz in a lurch as she couldn't snitch on the deva or else she would destroy the whole plan for the infernals. Quen'die relished the uncomfortable look on the fiend's face as it was, more or less, the only emotion she would emit.

Pain was doled out upon her with relish. The government must have hired just the correct personality-type who would have no problem brutalizing an adolescent maiden. It was true that, in their opinion, she had sealed elfdom's demise by sabotaging the Thelemex dispersal, and that made her wonder if she would perform this torture unto herself were the tables turned.

Yes, Quen'die wanted Venn'lith Mitlan's head in the worst way, and with each strike to her body and slap to her face, her spite for the Xochian grew ever hotter. Mulling her arrest time and again in her mind, the maiden was quite certain that little pig was the one who had framed her. Unlike that arrangement, these inquisitors held no personal account with her. She still had yet to even have legal counsel as was promised, but these bulls cared not.

When it was time for the manaspike, Quen'die's head swooned. The thing was tall, black and ugly. A spindly device that would flicker with searing, intermittent red mana. Once again, the maiden was strapped to the upright gurney which was bent forward into the instrument of pain.

It was so slow and ceremonial and the supervising wardens and inquisitors loved it. It was almost like some secret, ghastly holiday that these officers celebrated away from the common consensus of the public. Out of the corner of her eyes, Quen'die could see that some of those present were gambling over something.

This foul ritual had happened only once. Perhaps just so the bulls could savor it in full and not get too much of a good thing. Quezz too was present for the torture, but she just stood by like a wood golem; like an idiot. Quen'die knew not how long the operation took, but it seemed forever until she had passed out from the pain of the burn.

She awoke an indeterminate time later in a cell with two patches on either side of her face. The spike must have singed her with serious scars and she wanted in such a bad way to get to a mirror and assess the damage. The cooling salve killed off the pain and she settled, knowing well that they would stave off the scars. It would be dreadful to go through the rest of her life with two symmetrical marks of shame on her face, and this was all the worse since she prided herself for her smooth skin.

Soaking in her surroundings through her mental haze, Quen'die could see that this cell was not her usual confinement. This unit was an upgrade for space, as it was much wider, but a downgrade for quality. She had a new roommate across from her on a wall cot. Travius sat chained by his foot. As if it could not get any worse.

She looked down to find that she too was shackled by the ankle. In all hope, the lengths could not reach far enough for physical contact with the freak, she worried. This elf was a psychopath and the idiot-wardens decided to provide him with grist for slaughter. Quen'die would not allow this.

"Ehh, so when did this operation become co-ed?" she broke her daze. Her head hurt as if a blade had split it open from her bout with unconsciousness.

"And what should that matter, maiden?" the guru challenged. "Co-ed, we're all dead."

He laughed at his sing-song, and this made the elfmaid want to throw up. "Just stop it, Travius! I can't take this!"

"Ah, yes!" he boomed after his bout with hilarity. "I do see that you have been given your marks of admission to this Glorious State of Atlantis! Do not worry, child. They go away in due time, just as mine did. Oh, those bulls love their toys and gadgets, don't they? Methinks their mothers did not love them enough, yes? Does your mother love you?"

This was a final straw for the maiden. Whatever his alleged powers or insights, his hostility was apparent with that remark. They were fighting words. "I said shut up! I dare you to speak of my mother again!"

"This is not about your mother, maiden. That female is just a little component. A small role in a grand epic that you must suffer! Why, all the essential ingredients are there like a big, fat birthday cake! Let's see; take one maiden and tear her away from her happy world. Give her a mission; a big mission the likes of which humble flowers such as I have failed. Take away her father who tries desperately to hold on to the tatters of what's left."

"Shut up, Freak!" she began to blubber as his words stung.

Ignoring her, he continued, "Oh, let's give Mother a change of heart. Why not even use her against her own flesh? Maybe you are here because of her, yes? Did your own mother snitch on you, maiden?"

Her nails were digging in her palms. This was not sorrow but rage. He was right, and she didn't know how he could be so right.

"Why, you are even complete with a wise, old Nanna, who maybe knows a little too much, perhaps? Perhaps...she too is in on it all! Add one dirty dungeon and you are now a perfect tragedy." In the sick shade he grinned. "But where is your prince?"

Quen'die leapt off the cot as a growl from her stomach grew into her throat like a gnarled old oak tree whose roots dug into hell. The distance the chain allowed was indeed tiny, as her wail was cut short by the crash to the concrete floor in the middle of the cell. The maiden continued to holler after the shock subsided regardless, "You're insane! Why don't you say it to my face!"

With a speed that was much too athletic for his age, Travius emerged from the shadows on the floor to meet her. His eyes bore into her and deep through. "Shhh! I am only telling you what you already know, maiden. If you demonize me, you are only screaming at yourself like a fool. It isn't my fault you don't have the guts to face it. You know what happens when you break a mirror."

***

Banda Na'rundi paused outside the service entrance to the dungeons. Trying to hide his nerves, as was usual for him; he adjusted the medals affixed to his uniform. "Tam'laa, am I on straight?"

"Don't worry, Father, you look like you could take on all of Thuless'in," she assured.

He grunted with some doubt, "You never said that I'd win. This had better work out. Once through this door, we will be forced to commit to the plan one-hundred percent. My neck is out on the line."

The colonel rang the buzzer. Deep inside, Banda hoped that it would never answer and they could turn back and all stop at a restaurant for lunch and forget about everything. His wish was dashed when the intercom buzzed in response.

"Good day, Colonel Na'rundi. What business brings you here, sir?" the door's crackle was respectful, yet cold and impersonal at the same time. It matched the size of the portal; a giant wooden bulkhead that only artillery from a laandbaarg could hope to breach.

"Gonduanna High Council has sent me here to question the prisoner Quen'die Reyliss," the gold elf looked down at his tablet to double-check her code. "Prisoner 1127 Tortoise."

Another pause sat heavy from the door. "Present badge and I.D. to the screen on your left, please, Colonel."

Na'rundi raised his tablet to the little optical lens that was nestled next to the bulkhead under the comm. "Happy now?"

"It's a check," the door confirmed. "Eh, what's Gonduanna want with her anyway, sir?"

Stoicism was a trait for which the colonel was renown, and he needed to use that. Any display of nervousness would blow the plan apart. "Warden, this terrorist has committed a global crime and she will be met with a global response. I have permission by the Atlantean High Circle to interrogate her accusations. You can expect military envoys from around the world in the next two days. This includes Thuless'in. We even have Colonel Gau'bam all the way from Mu en route."

"Yes sir!" the door acknowledged. "Please step away from the portal, sir."

The innards of the dungeon rumbled as the bulkhead's workings sprang to life. The racket was immense and quite unwelcoming. Anybody who was ushered through this threshold as a prisoner must have had their guts drop with despair upon hearing this clamor.

Colonel Na'rundi looked over at his two compatriots. Both were infected with the same authority as the elder gold elf. Tam'laa flashed her father a knowing smile as she stood at attention. That day, she fashioned her hair into a relaxed Atlantean style but had managed to pepper it with a few braids. Mavriel kept his face shrouded under his black cloak, but the colonel knew that he felt no apprehension. It just seemed to be his way since meeting him the other night.

The trio walked to the admissions desk to be greeted by the active warden on duty that day. Na'rundi thought the hallway leading down seemed so long, as if through a warped lens, yet he never broke his stride. So many years of conditioning and combat had reinforced his nerves, and this operation was no different. As if fortune was thrown to the wind this time, he did not have the support of the Gonduanna High Command behind him, as he had alleged.

"Colonel Na'rundi, sir," the warden greeted. "May I have the identification of your company?"

"I have my daughter Tam'laa Na'rundi with me today and one of the Aldebarans stationed in Gonduanna is here to supervise," the gold elf stated.

Looking over to his daughter, the warden flashed a smile. "That's fine. Can I have the name of the Aldebaran, please?"

Mavriel stepped forward and lowered his hood. He flashed his eyes down at the lady behind the desk in case she wanted to probe deeper into his true identity. "I am called Canceros. You can let me through. I check out."

She was gobsmacked upon his simple statements. Her eyes were transfixed upon his as if she were enjoying a waking dream while she imitated his exact words along with his mouth. Mavriel hated doing this and hated lying about his name all the more. As Ui pledged free will upon all of elfdom, imposing his own upon a mortal made him feel guilty and the guilt made him ill.

"Yes, you're good to go," she responded with an affected duty. "Colonel, I'll get a steward to escort you to the Circle of Tortoise."

"That's fine," he nodded. "But I must inform you; this is a transnational interrogation, so we will need a privacy room arranged."

"Absolutely, Colonel," the warden checked her tablet. "We can have one set up for you in Sector N.41. I'll summon a steward now."

As the desk warden scrolled through her tablet to arrange for their escort, Tam'laa looked up to her father and smiled. The nerves bundling inside him washed away for a moment and her silent reassurance lent him a sense of well-being. This may work out just fine, he surmised.

A husky elf rounded his way to the admissions desk. He was gripping a cup of tea and looked a bit worse for the wear. Na'rundi figured this one must have had a long night.

"Hello, Colonel, I'm warden Ginn. I'll escort you to your subject's cell." His eyes were bloodshot upon closer examination and his uniform looked a bit rumpled. What was he up to last night, Na'rundi wondered?

"Oh, Colonel," the desk warden piped before they set off. "The bulkhead is entrance-only. You can leave this facility through the courthouse adjoined."

The elf led the three like a plodding dodo bird through the winding sloped halls. With each turn the corridors made, and with each descent, the dungeon became dingier and dingier.

Tam'laa scanned her surroundings as she was most ever the curious one. Her father prided her on how she always loved to know how things worked. With each decline the wending ways made led their group down to another level of the prison. Painted in intermittent and immense orange letters across the walls were the identities of the circles: "The Circle of Lion," "The Circle of Hog," "The Circle of Ox." As she moved in for a closer inspection, the types of offenders were listed underneath. Each circle boasted more heinous crimes than the last. Judging by the depth of their journey, the Circle of Tortoise must have housed only the worst of criminals, to wit: terrorists and traitors.

"We have the offender in a double cell right now," the warden belched. "What with all these looters and ration thieves, our dungeon is nearly filled to capacity. If it weren't for this time limit, we'd probably have to build another circle or two just to accommodate the load."

"That's fine," the colonel gave a sharp nod. "We'll sequester this one in a privacy room anyway."

"Good for you!" he shot back. "You'll need it. Her little roommate is none other than that goofball Travius. Y'know, it seems like millennia ago when he tried to kill our king. All that's happened in the last few months seems like eons! Well, anyway, that blast from the past can yak your ear off. Always going on and on about the seen and the unseen. Not only that, he'll try to get in your head. I remember this one time he kept prying into my family life. The scary thing was, he was right on the money about most of it! Me, I didn't care if he was psychic or not. Once he started going on about my wife, I gave him a good once-over. You gotta keep these guys in line every now and again, y'know?"

Banda rolled his eyes in the hall's murky light. This warden was an idiot, but he could lend no time for disparagement of the ignorant. "Right..."

As the hallway dropped in a steep slope, the lights grew ever dimmer and the walls looked like the floor of a public toilet. Since they were deep in the earth, the moisture was seeping onto the floor causing brackish puddles here and there. It looked like the land that janitors had forgotten. Emblazoned in the same orange announcement, "The Circle of Tortoise" peered through the grime.

"Okay, Colonel, this is it. I'll get the offender and then we can take you to sequester. I'll escort her back once you're through." He rattled the heavy keys with his porky hands.

To take the will of a mortal was such an evil thing to do, thought the deva. There would be no way that they could secure his ward without breaching that will for the second time that day. He knew deep inside that all of his actions, including these transgressions, were a dreadful necessary. "Warden Ginn, please look at me."

"Huh?" the pudgy elf turned to Mavriel, a bit startled. Those Aldebaran-types gave him the willies sometimes. "What'cha need?"

Mavriel stared straight into Ginn's eyes. "We are taking the offender whom you call Quen'die Reyliss with us. You will not need the sequester room, as she will now be in our custody."

As Mavriel spoke his words, Ginn's mouth lipped them in perfect unison, like a puppet. It almost made the deva cry to see the dazed and stupid look on his face as he put the bull into a trance. Only an infernal would relish this process, and it was quite a brutal one for the mortal mind.

"Right," the warden smiled as he swung the bulky cell door aside.

The bright light that illuminated the center of the room cast the corners into hard shadows. Displayed in that pool of brilliance were Quen'die and Travius pitted against each other face-to-face. It was quite apparent the two had been in the throes of a heated argument.

"Get up, you two!" Ginn barked. "Each of you \- over to your corners!"

Tam'laa saw that her friend was chained by the foot. How humiliating, she thought as Quen'die scampered onto the shadow of her cot. It took a moment for the elfmaid to discern who was there but, as her eyes adjusted, she could recognize her gold elf comrade.

Quen'die bit her tongue as she didn't know or trust her visitors' motives. Amongst the trio was a tall hooded figure drenched in a thick black cloak. They are in compact with the demons, Quen'die assumed as her heart sank with that thought. Looking over at Travius, she could see that the guru was spooked by the black figure. His face was all but paralyzed by his presence as his mouth made tiny peeps out of its ring. It was apparent, he too had a poor history with their kind and she couldn't blame him.

"Here you go," the warden presented as he unlocked Quen'die's ankle. "She's all yours. I'll go away and forget all about this. Remember to leave via the courthouse."

"Tam! What are you doing with them?" Quen'die could not form the question with any ease, but her friends were in ever-shorter supply. It would be no surprise that Tam'laa would also be in league with these fiends. "I..."

Mavriel unfurled his hood. Thick blond hair poured out of the collar and draped down the side of his chest. The deva looked at his ward in the eyes and smiled. "We're here to take you home."

She looked over at Travius who was still locked in horror at Mavriel's towering shape. Something wasn't right, she fretted. "Mavriel! What's going on?"

Banda offered Quen'die his hand, yet she recoiled. The smile on his face seemed genuine, but adults were good liars after having years and years of practice at it. "You heard him; we're here to take you home."

"Home," the maiden repeated as if in a stupor. "So, where is that now?"

Mavriel stepped forward, deeper into the cell. Lord Na'rundi's eyes may have been fibbing, but the angel's were not. "If you come with us, we'll show you."
The Queen of Nothing

**M** ore elves filled the central rotunda of the courthouse as crews of mirrorcasters and assorted technicians blocked and rigged the room for the special broadcast. Feeling a bit pushed aside from her usual limelight, Quay'liss Dalian sat on her personal stool trying not to glare at the young Xochian maiden with professional envy. As she toyed with her microphone by nervous reflex, she wondered how her public ratings had been faring ever since this child became the face of the Atlantean Youth Parliament.

She couldn't understand why this maiden was receiving all this press coverage with topics that sometimes didn't even pertain to her duties. The arrest of Quen'die Reyliss, for instance, really had nothing to do with the AYP. Sure, there had been one of their little officers present at the bust but, for the most part, it was a municipal effort conducted by real adult wardens. Perhaps the viewing public had expected Venn'lith Mitlan to represent the bust since this suspected terrorist was so young. After all, this wee sun elf was becoming all the more popular the world over with each broadcast that featured her on the screen and the manacloud. Already, her public service announcements were going viral and fansites devoted to her "beauty and heroism" were popping up everywhere.

Looking at her compact for the thousandth time that morning, Dalian ran her index finger down one cheek to search for a wrinkle or any blemishing signs of age. " _Mirror, mirror, in my hand. Who's the fairest in the land?_ "

Cadreth, the Aldebaran cabin lad who never left the Xochian's side, began shooing away the gawking onlookers. "Everyone! This is a closed set! We will begin shooting in ten! Anyone unauthorized, please leave the room!" As he boomed the announcement, his wings flapped slightly for effect. Dalian wondered if that was some sort of autonomic reaction or if their kind did it with conscious effort.

Prime Warden Mitlan was looking a bit worse for the wear than usual, the newsie noticed. Her skin had a bit of a grey pallor and her personal assistant was applying a base to her face with professional haste. Dalian wondered if she had come down with some variety of a bug.

"Babydoll, please just hold tight," her flamboyant artist cooed as she continued to heap lumps of foundation on her subject's mug. Hoping that Venn'lith would not see, Djaenn grimaced off to the side as she had found the Xochian's blanched complexion to be rather disturbing. "The Djaenn will have you all sunny again in no time."

"Do you think it will ever get back to normal?" Venn'lith almost begged her stylist with a whine. "It's been nearly a week now. I-I think it's warming up, but I'm still so... _Diosos!_ I look like an Atlantean! I'll be like one of the locals basking in a suncasket! Eww... _Fea_ s!"

"Of course it's warming up!" Djaenn reassured with a lie; the best she could muster. "I see you nearly every day and I can tell it's getting better. Believe me, I know these things."

***

"It's right through these doors," Banda pointed to the large portal down the long hall. " _Courthouse Rotunda Entrance - Circle of Law_ " was advertised before them in a less-formidable script than were the names of the dungeon's circles. Arched over the grand verge greeted the incised motto, " _This Scale Shall Never Sway_."

"Yeah, right," Quen'die hissed in disgust.

"What are you on about?" Tam'laa frowned.

"I never even made it to a trial," the grey elfmaid continued to spit. "Oh, the bulls had no problem putting me on the manaspike, though!"

Colonel Na'rundi's brow cocked to that. "Look, Dee, this is all over with. Things are different now with the exodus and such. Everything seems to be breaking down. I cannot say I agree with it, but considering the world believes it's basically the end, some things have been overlooked."

"This won't be the end," Mavriel added. "I will see to this. We need to focus on the situation at hand and get Quen'die out of here."

As the four shuffled down the corridor, the lights were already less dim. It seemed so ceremonial, as if the dungeon's architects and interior designers used illumination to signal the glow of freedom the closer one got to the double doors.

"I don't like this," the Colonel announced with a whisper. "The entrance to the Circle of Law is unguarded. Perhaps it's locked. I do hope that my governmental passcode works."

Just as he had expected, the massive doors failed to budge. The elder gold elf set his tablet into the panel on the side of the gates and waited for the flow to accept his identification. In a quick, quiet response, the panel sang to them, " _Colonel Banda Na'rundi... Gonduanna Defense Forces... Initializing... Authenticating... Handshaking... Accepted...Welcome to the Circle of Law, Colonel._ "

The old lord let loose a huff of relief as the bulky portal clanked from its inner mechanisms. He knew very well that his access would be granted, but the guilt in his mind made for plenty of second guesses. He was conducting the most illegal of jailbreaks for a capital offender, after all.

Mavriel covered Quen'die's prison uniform with a black blanket while the doors parted as if moved by snails. To add to the hasty disguise, he pulled a small fisherman's cap from his satchel and plopped it on her head. The brim of the cover hid her green eyes, and the deva thought she looked very young and endearing as she craned her neck about to see the world before her; almost adorable.

"What the...," Tam'laa blurted with the widest of eyes.

Displayed before the group of escapees, a presentation was being erected in the center of the rotunda. Lights, rigging, manamirrors and even a snack cart were being rushed around by technicians of all purposes. The scene was one of slight panic as the casting crews were hustling to get the broadcast underway.

"I don't know what this is," Banda said with eyes as shocked as his daughter's. "It looks like some news report."

"Or maybe a special exposé," Tam'laa supposed. "This is way too much tech for just a late-breaking report. This is something big."

Quen'die lifted the brim of her cover. The Xochian was the first thing that her eyes met, and the only thing. Sitting in the middle of the ring of spotlights sat Venn'lith Mitlan. The maiden was shaking her crossed legs with a nervous fidget as a stylist daubed cosmetics on her face. Like an infrared scanner, the sun elf was nothing more than a diminutive target in the middle of Quen'die's enraged crosshairs.

Logic and common sense failed as she knew that now was the time and the only opportunity to act. It wasn't revenge, as that would have been planned and better served after some cold time. Neither was this a mere reaction as the hate had been burrowing in Quen'die's heart for weeks.

When Venn'lith used to give Quen'die the stinkeye in the hallways at school, she figured that the sun elf was just sizing her up and no real harm was meant. When the Xochian beat her and scratched her at her stupid beach house, Quen'die feared the maiden. When Venn'lith failed to beat her again at school, Quen'die rejoiced a minor victory because it only proved that the grey maiden was a better runta player. When Venn'lith destroyed her family later that very afternoon, the black feelings were shut and sealed. Quen'die Reyliss, for the first time in her life, truly hated someone. Then everything got worse from there.

Hate was the worst of all sensations, this she knew well. It made the face hot and the eyes swim. Quen'die could feel her teeth chatter as if she were trekking through the Vrillian Wastes despite the heat inside of her. The maiden's legs were wobbling and she couldn't feel her stomach. Daggers of energy, like red mana itself, were running up her back and into her shoulders. This power was flowing into her brain and out into the tiny world before her where Venn'lith was queen and sole survivor. Today was the day that her tyrannical reign would end.

"VENN'LITH MITLAN!" the bellow echoed throughout the stately halls of the rotunda and bounced from gantry to gantry upwards. Legal wardens and assistants of all sorts looked down from the spiraling balconies to find the source of the terrific boom. On the mezzanine above, a young paralegal dropped her mug of tea in a state of shock.

Her eyes were stupid, sightless and fixed on the sun elf who blithely turned her head toward the thunder. Her hair was done up in the most lavish of fashion, as usual, and the production's spotlights made perfect hits on every one of the maiden's good sides. She looked like a smoked-silver menagerie, but life-sized. Venn'lith was nothing more than a little princess of dainty politeness awaiting attack by a fearsome red troll from tales of yore.

Mavriel and Tam'laa tried to stop her once they realized what was happening, but the maiden's speed was amped beyond normal elven ability. Years of runta matches and weeks of anger closed the long gap between Quen'die and her prey in what seemed like a single movement. The grey elf flew unassisted by limmer or cycle across the marble floor of the rotunda.

Her eyes were open and emotionless as she aimed to make grievous contact with the sun elf. Quezz was very proud of her as she scooted back from the perimeter of the set to allow Quen'die to perform the rite of passage into her infernal care.

For fear of their own safety, all the elves on that floor retreated from the area of the fracas. All the Aldebarans present joined their earthly counterparts, but only to observe. And observe they did, with due care. Prince Stolas stood back steadfast as he savored the crime unfolding before him with calm study. Quezz was all but drooling for her moment to seal a deal of stewardship from Mavriel.

Cadreth was a demon of a different color. His eyes darted with nervous energy between the awaiting form of his dearest love and the authoritarian glare of his prince. This was nothing to scoff at and his conflict was making him as sick as it was rendering him confused. From the looks of the Reyliss maiden's rage, he would not have much time to make a decision and act upon it.

Quen'die Ferd'inna Reyliss did strike Venn'lith Cente'na Mitlan off of her styling stool at precisely 10:04 a.m. on Marsday, the twenty-third of Sixthmoon, 2789 in the Age of Mana. The Xochian rolled with the blow as she was not bracing herself for the unexpected. Such a surprise was fortuitous, as she could have broken her back if she had stiffened up in expectation.

Straddling the sun elf, Quen'die dug her knees into her victim's armpits so she could not gain the leverage needed to escape the clutch. After three days of nothing but a delousing, Quen'die stank like a wild animal and moved much the same. The maiden's odor assaulted Venn'lith's nose and subdued her all the more.

"Help me! Security!" she screamed as Quen'die raised back a knobby fist, ready to strike. "Agh! The _bruja_ stinks!"

On the balcony above this spectacle, the sun elf's wish was granted. Armors of the courts filed into position with casters screaming to hellish arousal. So many innocent civilians dotted the floor below them, and none of their positions were optimal for a shot without hitting one.

"Blast!" one of the bulls cursed. "I can't get a fix on the little witch!"

Noticing this, Mavriel bounded into the fray as he threw off his shadowy cloak. His brilliant wings flooded the rotunda, thus blocking the small opportunity for the snipers in full. One of the wardens lost his nerve and let loose a couple of bolts of red mana which hit the angel square in a wing only to bounce off without a scratch.

"Secure those casters, warden!" his commander screamed. "We aren't clear!"

The three demons all inhaled a gasp of surprise upon seeing their heavenly enemy in his full glory. It was true that many of their forces were aware of his arrival, as Sammian had warned, but to see him without preparation was quite the startling jolt. Quezz trained her focus on Mavriel as would a long-departed lover who had come back from the dead. Her normally emotionless face dropped with shock and a hint of amusement. This is going to be good, she thought with devilish glee.

"Quen'die, don't. Please!" Mavriel shouted. Such a bark was not usual from him, but that morning, everybody was reacting instead of relying on good sense. The whole courthouse had become a scene of tense chaos. As the deva saw it, nothing good would come of it either.

Sound was not an issue for the grey maiden and Mavriel's caveat did not register. The only thing in existence was her fist and Venn'lith's face. Quen'die would see to it that the two connected. As her young target was now in her clutches, her hate gave way to raw duty. It was her time for action.

With the first strike to the sun elf's face, Quen'die relished seeing the posh maiden's teeth fly out of her maw. Almost the entire top row skittered across the rotunda's floor as rivulets of her blood flew close behind them in an attempt to catch up. The scratching sound of the ivory raked over marble sent shivers up Tam'laa's trunk.

Stolas was beaming and couldn't stifle his glee. This one had promise and he was eager to see what could transpire. "Don't listen to Mavriel, Quen'die! Proceed!"

Quen'die didn't hear the goetic prince's plea for encouragement; she only wanted to finish what needed to be done. Follow-through was always a quality she had prided herself for, and if one started something, one should finish it.

The second blow crushed Venn'lith's right cheek. Quen'die's new muscles were surprising even her, but she figured that even without them, the damage would be no different. She was not fighting with meat, but dark spirit.

"Kill her, maiden!" the goetic prince barked. "I'll have you made an officer! I promise you this!" the infernal began to laugh. "You can even have an entire legion!"

This alarmed Cadreth as his tears were becoming unstoppable and he could no longer hide them. His eyes began to drool for the horrid damage done to his love before him and the pain of having to juggle the dire decision of saving her or risking a terrible offense to his office.

Her hostility was failing to wane, and still smoldered from her guts to her brain. Quen'die grabbed the Xochian by both her shoulders and slammed her glitter-strewn head down on the hard Thuless'in-imported marble. Rich brown contact lenses flew out of her eyes leaving behind the hellish yellow that they were. The grey elfmaid cared not why they were in such a state. At 10:05 a.m., Venn'lith Mitlan's occipital nerve dislodged, leaving her blind in her left eye.

Eyes open, the Xochian saw her aggressor reared back for an assured killing blow. So much terrible harm had been done about her head, that it was sure to be irreversible. Not a doctor or health warden on the earth could bring her back to the maiden she had been a few minutes ago. So much blood seeped out of her face that it was nothing but a grisly red mask.

"Quen'die! If you do this, you're out of my hands!" Mavriel peered over at his giddy counterpart nearby as he continued to cover the battle from the wardens above with his mighty wings. He noticed the asura was gloating in the anticipation of her hopeful ward's downfall. "I'll be forced to give you over to Quezz forever! _Please_ , my love!"

Tam'laa looked upon her friend in horror. Never before had she seen her, or anyone else for that matter, so possessed by rage. The wide glare of hate was nothing short of alien to the gold elf. Without realizing what she was doing, Tam'laa thrust her hand into her satchel and pulled out the cold blade just in case she needed to defend herself. Chek'yiv's blade.

Cadreth went for broke. He could not bear to idly obey his foul handlers any longer. This sun maiden was much more valuable to him than his station as an incubus, and he cared not for the assured punishment he would receive once summoned back to the Nine. "Quen'die! Stop! She's pregnant with my baby!"

Although the rotunda of the courthouse carried echoes better than most of the architecture in all of Atlantis, sound and time had stopped for the crowd upon Cadreth's statement. Quay'liss Dalian was tapping the breaking news into her tablet with wild effort. Mavriel maintained constant vigil over Quen'die, as did Quezz. Tam'laa stood at the ready with her blade in a very inefficient and untrained battle stance that was more or less just for show. Quen'die, at last, dropped her poise to strike her nearly-unconscious opponent with sluggish grace.

Stolas turned his long, thin head over to the weeping lust demon with deliberate meter, unable to arrest his shock and anger. His eyes burned into the youthful fiend. "What! You conceived a _Merovai_ with an earthling, you idiot? What did we say about this before the operation? Fool!"

Cadreth stood to his full height in seething defiance. "Oh, if you think I'm the only one who has tasted the fruits of this world, you are sorely mistaken, old coot! There are scores of us now! What did you expect from one of my ranks when you assigned me to such a beautiful specimen?"

"All the more reason to snuff this little witch out," the prince oozed from his clenched mouth. "We shall not have loose ends. Venn'lith is no longer of any value to me or this mission!"

Tam'laa was thrown back with a stony arm as the incubus wrenched the sword without any effort from the gold elf's weak grip. The demonic lad knew very well what the blade was hewn of and he wanted to vomit for the few seconds it rested in his fists. "She is to me, you sick demon!"

Prince Stolas discorporated into a pool of black filth the very moment Cadreth sliced the cold iron through his neck. The goetic had no time to utter a protest in either pain or plea. Stinking goop befouled the smoked marble of the majestic circle, and the only thing left in it was the lavish robes the hellish regent wore that morning.

Mysteries were solved only to open new puzzles that instant. These were not only beings of another world, but life of a different nature. The abysmal pool of grue on the floor stank like the hell from which it was forged. Quay'liss Dalian was recording the whole event with a tiny manamirror on her shoulder and a tablet in her hand. The world had to see this event unfold and, love her or hate her, this was the precise reason why she was its premiere journalist.

Quezz walked backward with a slow measure, away from her comrade's biting blade. Icy fear ran up to her brain, yet she tried to remain as impassive as always. This was not the time to let Cadreth get the best of her.

The asura's scarlet hair undulated back and forth as she trod away with caution toward a side entrance of the circle. She was determined to make her way towards the Morning Star. With a slim finger, she pointed at the incubus in self-righteous accusation. "You're dead, Cadreth. I'm telling the boss."

Tears were wiping away the blood that covered Quen'die's cheeks. The sorrow and disgust for herself from her attack made her want to lose her innards. Venn'lith did not deserve this, and she knew it well as her good sense had returned to her mind. She found she was no longer straddling the sun elf in combat, but holding her like a little baby. The water from her soul broke holes through the Xochian's blood which covered her face in equal amounts. Quen'die bent forward all the closer and kissed her foe's broken lips.

"Mavriel!" she cried through the ghastly red lipstick of Venn'lith's lifeblood. "Please help us! She's going to die!"

He bent down as the pair basked in his faint glow. Lifting the petite form out of Quen'die's arms, the deva held Venn'lith close to his heavy chest. She began gasping short gulps of air with each second of his embrace. The glow blossomed to an illumination of solace with every passing moment as Venn'lith's body repaired itself with steady progress in the holy light.

Her gasps became breaths and her breaths became sobs. Venn'lith had never felt so close to anyone in her life, including Cadreth, as she, at last, knew that she was back home. Sight and sound were returning and shattered bones were reforming as she spent each second in the glow of the Creator's love. It was an energy that was unmatched upon anything her father could ever hope to trade for on the open market.

The deva raised her weary ears to his lips. "Your child is safe. You are going to be all right."

Venn'lith raised a hand to her deformed mouth. It continued to feel odd to her. "My teef? "she blurted with a groggy lisp.

Wincing, Mavriel touched her thick lips. "Sorry, but we don't do teeth. Eh, I hope you guys have a dental plan."

"Mavriel," the incubus touched his estranged comrade on the shoulder. "We must tell the world about Lucifer's plot. The best way I can see that the message gets out is through Venn'lith."

The angelic shook his blond head in slight amusement. Never before had he thought he would hold a friendly conversation with any of those who had rebelled. Despite his infernal faction, the demon was correct, and now was as grand a time as ever.

"I don't see why not, Cadreth," the deva gestured at the mirrors and lights surrounding them. "We have all we need right here."

Cadreth took his love from Mavriel's arms with gentle care. "Lith, do you think you feel up to making another late-breaking report?"

Quay'liss Dalian sidled up to the couple with Mavriel's robe in her hands. The reporter was a whirlwind of frantic joy and determination. An amazing story was about to be broken. "Yes, Lith, I'm right here for you. My mirrorcasters recorded it all and we can feed it into the playback flow. We just need Cadreth to fill us in on the whole situation. You owe it to the world to expose this! But first, you had better cover-up with this robe. You're kinda, well, gory."

Venn'lith looked down at the impressions of her beating. Her silvery gown was marbled with streaks of red. Wrapping herself in the tenebrous garment, the sun elf thought she looked more like a humble Kamdenite milkmaiden than a wealthy Xochian. Remembering the state of her eyes, she had to think with haste before she could present herself to the public. "Eh, Quay'lith?"

"Yes, honey, anything."

"Can I borrow a pair of thunglatheth?" the maiden pointed a quivering finger to her glowing alien eyes. "I don't want everybody to thee me like thith."

The unnerving sight at last hit the newsie. What a strange side effect, she thought. Sans teeth, the maiden wasn't doing too hot with her oratory skills either. "Uh, sure, baby. And, eh, I think you better let me do the talking, okay?"

Quen'die knelt shaking in a heap of herself; her arms crossed her legs while she rocked with a slight bob. She lifted her green eyes up to Mavriel. So much shame and regret filled them and she feared for her soul for what she had just done. "Mavriel, I... _Please._ "

He knew she wanted him to hold her and that was what he did. The angelic's embrace was meant for healing inside and out. All fear slid from her spirit, but the pain of her actions of that morning failed to follow it. "I'm so sorry, Mavriel. I almost killed her! I never want to feel like that again. I don't care about all the trouble she caused me. I want to forget about all of this! I love that beautiful fiend!"

With a soft whisper, her deva held her even closer in his glorious warmth. "Quen'die, you won't be able to forget this as long as you live here. But already, you have forgiven and that is so much for the better. Amnesia is a disease, but forgiveness is a blessing."

After the longest time in his gentle clutch, Mavriel lifted his ward to her feet. "We need to get you out of here. This is just the beginning of your calling. I've seen to it that you will be in exile for some time. You will be hiding away at the home of the lad whom you call "Face." I will be with Colonel Na'rundi and Tam'laa, as will your father and grandmother. The colonel has decided it is better that you are split up from us. Everyone is safe for the time being, but we must prepare ourselves quickly for the next step."

"What is this step, Mavriel?" she gazed up into his warm eyes.

The look in those eyes turned grim. "It won't be easy. The whole world will soon be in immediate danger once this broadcast goes live."

Quen'die sniffled back a heavy burden into her nose. It had dawned upon her that there was no doubt she was "chosen," as that notion was clearer to her than ever. What she was experiencing was true responsibility on her shoulders. The weight of the world. Angst. She was beyond sleepy. Pure surrender she gave to her angel and she reveled in it. Such a male was nothing less than she had ever hoped for, even in her royal fantasies. The deva was the most beautiful soul, she swallowed. She needed the kind of rest that the usual six hours could not remedy. "Okay, but first, I really need to take a hot waterfall. Stinky Quen'die."

He smiled. "Yes, this is true."
Matron of our Doom

**D** eafening roars of boos and hisses congealed into a slow, united chanting outside the Circle of Law on that overcast morning. The people of Corosa City wanted Quen'die Reyliss' head for what she had done to the docks, so the news reported. Signage of all forms bobbed up and down throughout the crowd. Sandwich boards, posters, and banners dotted the throng of disgruntled elves, some of which were prophetic with ominous accuracy (QUEN'DIE REYLISS: MATRON OF OUR DOOM) while others were brutal and lowbrow (QUEN'DIE REYLISS SUCKS). Many others were simple declarations of love for the adolescent star of today's special broadcast (VENN'LITH, MARRY ME!).

Ferd'inn Reyliss slunk back low in the waiting utility coach for his comrades to rush out of the Circle's doors. This escape plan was going to be tenuous at best and he didn't account for the broadcast event when he and his old friend had devised the plot the other night. There was much anger and energy out on those steps of the stately circle that day and it was all directed in livid harmony at his poor daughter. They should have tried the breakout after curfew when the steps were bare, but that would be inherently suspicious.

In the back of his mind, Quen'die's father wondered if he should just plow his vehicle through the crowd with all four doors open the very moment the entrance of the circle split. That would be quite a spectacle, he chuckled to himself with nervous glee. No, it would all have to go by the book, considering his daughter's rescue party even made it that far. For all he knew, he fretted, Banda and his Tam'laa were being thrown in cells of their own all while he chewed on his knuckle.

He craned his neck high over the coach's trackball with an incessant bobbing like a skittering meerkat. The lord wasn't aware he was doing it half of the time, as it was like an obsession. He wasn't just waiting for his daughter's escape party to appear, he knew in the pit of his soul that he was hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife.

It had been so long since he last saw her on that terrible Moonday afternoon. Glynna did anything she could to make herself as scarce as possible from his eyes. Perhaps avoidance was a blessing, he considered. How horrible it would have been to have to continue to see her in the shadow of that terrible lout Centeo Mitlan. The dour look that was assured to be on her face when she saw him would hurt even worse. Such a look was one of complete detachment. No longer would she raise an eyebrow in mirth-laden disappointment, but just drop her features as if to communicate, "Oh, no - it's you."

As Lord Reyliss waited outside the side entrance, he marveled at how crowded even this portion of the building's curve was. These people were out for blood and they wanted to hear the most ghastly of news from Venn'lith's lips. Since her arrest, there had been a complete media blackout regarding his Quen'die, and not knowing anything about her well-being set him beside himself.

Glynna was, in all his sanity's fortune, nowhere to be found, but one familiar face did float before the enraged horde. It took some time to register her form as she was out of her normal, cheerful context and the red uniform was not her usual attire. Lauryl'la Hay'cenn was barking orders for the crowd to stay behind the temporary wooden barriers that separated the roiling cull from the steps to the circle. Every now and again, she would bang her truncheon against the ramparts whenever some of the protesters got too close to the perimeter. Ferd'inn, to be frank, thought she looked a bit ridiculous playing civil warden. Her parents would have been much more professional about their duties, but the maiden was still young and the general climate of the exodus must have been just as stressful to her as it was for the rest of the world.

After all had been arranged, Ferd'inn decided to opt-out of Hal'rinn's offer with the wardens. It just wouldn't be his kind of gig, he figured as he watched the young maiden, and he was thankful that he had chickened out. He imagined himself failing with miserable disgrace at the job. What would he say against a looter, he wondered? "Okay, perp! Eh, drop the goods, please, or I'll, like, blow your head off or something. Um, sorry." To that supposition, he managed a little chuckle.

With a nervous sigh, he continued to wait and devour his knuckles. Perhaps Banda and company would have to overpower Lauryl'la if she tried to arrest them. It was a horrible consideration as she had been a friend of the family ever since Quen'die was in novice school. The lord prayed under his breath that she would just step aside from them once they rushed down the steps. Colonel Na'rundi was a seasoned combat veteran and it terrified Ferd'inn to think what he may do to that whelp if she tried to interfere in a direct manner.

Ferd'inn's casserole of worries was at last broken as were the side doors to the grand circle. What was this, his mind screamed after the great bang? Did Banda use some type of explosive to cover his exit? Upon adjusting his eyes, Quen'die's father soon realized that the source of the blast was not elven at all, but of one of the demons.

She looked so much like his daughter, but an older version of her. Perhaps as how Quen'die might look by the time she would be in the middle of her stint at the university. This one had the same flowing red hair and fair complexion as his maiden. Unlike Quen'die, this being had giant dark wings, much like a moth, and a face that seemed unaccustomed to showing emotion.

The thick double doors blew into planks and shards behind her. She was skimming not far above the ground, but her speed and force were still terrific. Any fool who dared to pick a fight with this being would have to be insane and suicidal. Lauryl'la didn't know what hit her as the demon picked her off her feet and dropped her square into the middle of the crowd without a bother to decelerate.

Not a soul in that throng was concerned for the young bullock. All of their eyes followed the unholy maiden's trajectory into the lead-white sky over their city. At the base of their bewildered feet, Lauryl'la moaned in pain from her fall. "Ow! Please help! I need a doctor! I think it's broken!"

Whatever had developed inside that rotunda that morning had to be a complete disaster, Ferd'inn assumed. He clutched the trackball until his red knuckles bleached white. No matter what just happened, he had to keep his nerve and stick to the plan. Although he wanted to tear away from that scene worse than ever, his daughter was in there and the situation had to be grim.

***

Quezz sped over the trees of Bonn'fyr Park towards the looming pyramid miles away. It would take very little time for her to close that distance, but she wanted to be sure to not attract more attention than she already had. Her diabolic mind raced as she beelined toward her master's ark.

Stolas couldn't contain himself, she grumbled. She couldn't, in all truth, blame him either. That little maiden was so close to falling into her eternal clutches but Mavriel had to screw it all up. If she were successful in containing Quen'die's soul, she would have had been promoted out of her lowly station as an asura and, with a little luck, have had the chance to command a legion or two. All in all, she concurred with the goetic. The opportunity to fell her was too delicious.

She hissed in frustration as her spit flew back into the air behind her. Tears were not a common occurrence, but she did want to cry. The primary reason for this was because she had missed her chance to deliver a mortal from grace, but also because the whole operation was blown and she had failed to stop it.

It was Cadreth, that lovesick fool. Forever she would curse the incubus, and she would not be the only one of her faction to do so. The punishment he'd receive back in the Nine would be legendary. Lucifer would do much worse to him than turn him to a mere larva. As for consequences, her master was so devious, that not even her imagination could compete with his plans.

Seconds later, the shadow of the Thelemic Ark Morning Star filled her view. Down below, the witless cordon of ADF armors milled about, unaware that they would soon need to wage a valiant fight against her and her kind. This mattered to her not as elves were weak and foolish. It would be a wonder if any of them could mobilize any type of force against her demons in time. She expected that they would just bicker amongst themselves like confused ninnies, just as they would about anything else.

Glasya would be livid, Quezz considered as she descended to the ground with a nimble squat. It was quite possible the president would take out her immediate frustrations upon her, and this fact made her a bit nervous, but she could not sit idly by and hope that the situation would just iron itself out. The battle in that courthouse was recorded and would soon be broadcast worldwide.

"Officer Quezz!" one of the wardens surrounding the ark greeted her with a salute. Word of the fracas had not yet hit the pointed ears of this cordon, it was apparent. Even if this bull decided to act upon the message, the fiend knew that she would just grab him and hurl him like a little ringball through the open sky. Upon imagining this, she smiled with silent and devilish glee. His final screams before he died from a broken neck would be fantastic.

Ignoring the bull, she sauntered into the swirling face of the ark. To the uninitiated, her entrance appeared to be seamless, almost as if the gigantic structure devoured her body without a trace left of her. Little did any mortal know that the massive door was all just an optical illusion. Any one of those idiots could wander into the bowels of an ark, but elves only knew what they saw and such a structure was visually beyond their puny understanding.

Being inside the ark was somewhat soothing to Quezz. Here, she didn't need to bother with the mewling prattle of any of those tiresome elves. Here, she didn't have to arrest her desires to kill their kind like slabs of waiting meat. Here, she didn't have to wear a happy face (which was a rarity for her to wear anyway) for her adoring public. By the devil, how she hated their lot.

With even meter and stride, the asura swaggered up the monstrous stairs to the central chamber where the High President awaited. To either side of her rested the portals to the immense pod chambers that would house every single elven soul on Earth as they gelled in suspended animation, waiting for their deliverance to damnation. Sooner, rather than later, Quezz thought, these chambers would be brimming with their moaning bodies. As of that morning, plans would change without a doubt.

Silent darkness filled the immense central chamber as Quezz poked her fiery red head beyond its yawning threshold. The dread of Glasya's anger filled her again, but the message needed to be sent no matter the cost. Once the population at large got wind of their true nature, there would be little time to act, and they were going to need the initiative. Those mortals may not get organized for a brawl, but they could still hide.

Glasya and Bastet were giggling in a huddle as they studied the glowing map on a wall deeper into the chamber. Quezz hated how the two sometimes behaved like a couple of teen elfmaids. Glasya was nothing but the entitled and spoiled sister of the big boss, and Bastet was little more than her pet assassin. The asura wondered if Bastet would be happy to kill the High President if given the chance.

Feeling the asura's infernal presence, their waifish tittering stopped to an abrupt halt. Glasya looked ridiculous, thought Quezz. Her hair was fashioned high up into the air like a big fat tulip bulb. Bastet, without a doubt, was having some fun with her haughty playmate while everyone else was out playing police officer with the smelly mortals.

"Oh, Quezz!" the High President chirped with snobbish mirth. "What does our little asura have for me this fine morning, hmm?"

Bastet dutifully laughed along with her superior and slunk behind her bulky shoulders like a shy kitten. From behind those perfect muscles, she peered at Quezz like a predator studying her kill. With her sneaky feline features, Quezz had always found the majordomo unnerving, as did many in her cohort. The High President had allowed her so many permissions, that they may have gone to her head. She was just an erinyes; a hitman, as far as the asura was concerned.

She straightened herself to deliver the bad news. Glasya's rage had been known to be misplaced and killing the messenger was not above her. "The Prime Warden's broadcast at the courthouse has turned into a disaster, Madame."

In tandem, both Glasya and Bastet dropped the cheer from their faces. "And how do you mean by 'disaster,' Quezz? Did Venn'lith get mashed potatoes thrown in her hair before a live studio audience?"

Despite the absurd sarcasm, neither of the high demons cracked a smile. They both maintained their frozen, piercing glare at their delivery maid. Quezz was feeling the rare sensation of dread at that. It was best to remain formal with these two, she figured.

"The incubus Cadreth banished Prince Stolas before the manamirrors. As we speak, the fiend is coordinating a smear campaign against us to be broadcast all over the world. Our plan has been compromised." Quezz closed her eyes like a tight vise for a split second. She wished in that moment that the two infernals before her did not exist.

Upon lifting her lids, she saw that the pair's eyes were both shocked in disbelief. Even the impassive Bastet could not hide her surprise. "Why did he do that? I..."

"Madame," Quezz stood at ever stiffer attention and bit her tongue. She could not divulge the grey maiden's chosen status to Glasya as per Lucifer's order. "A maiden named Quen'die Reyliss attempted to kill the Xochian. The Prince egged her on to complete the task, but Cadreth intervened on the sun elf's behalf. Out of love, he claimed. The Prime Warden is pregnant with his baby."

Glasya's eyes were burning. Bastet felt the hellish chill emit off of her sharp shoulder blades and thus, stepped back for her own safety. The darkness in that inner chamber seemed to deepen to blackness around all of those present.

"So, Quezz," she cleared her throat for effect. "You are telling me that we have our numbers dropping Merovais all over the earth. The very earth that we are, in fact, supposed to depopulate, yes?"

No matter who was to take the blame for Cadreth's actions and the horror that would result, Quezz knew she had to answer and do so with due haste. The High President's impatience served only to amp her rage. "Yes, Madame. The incubus reports that there are more progeny to be expected between us and the natives."

As fortune would have it for Quezz, the wall map was crushed under Glasya's fist instead of her face. The fixture was bashed about, but the light-borne image remained. Her scream echoed through the murky halls of the central chamber like a wind tunnel. It was such the sound that signaled the end of the world. With that, the High President doubled herself over in feral grief. Once she looked down, the asura realized she had stepped a good ten feet back while the goetic had her tantrum.

Bastet hissed like a cat by pure reaction. She too retreated, but much farther. The erinyes poked her head out from behind the plush cushions of a nearby divan. The look of fear and shock on her face was not very characteristic of her and this made Quezz chuckle for that moment on the inside. The asura was proud of herself to see that her nerve beat the cat-demon's for once.

"And who shall captain the Sweetlight now that Stolas is gone?" the goetic challenged Quezz the second she stood up from out of her barbaric crouch.

"Perhaps we should take that up with Lucifer, Madame," Quezz responded while trying to remain icy.

"Yes, Quezz, that would be the most logical of ideas," Glasya paused with a cringe. "But, you see, my brother is nowhere to be found once again! Ever since we opened our doors he's been incommunicado. Probably running around Atlantis in the possessed body of a duck or something absurd. Sometimes I hate his sense of humor."

Glasya scampered over to the scrying pool in the center of the chamber as if hoping the large azure image of her brother's face would appear like a magical apparition and make everything right again. Her movements were so fluid, Quezz relished.

Her back rippled with tense muscles as she heaved in a terrific breath to clear her head. The animations on her flimsy gown were skittering with total chaos as they reflected her mood. "There is a contingent plan. If something like this were to happen, my brother informed me of an alternate course of action, but it will be long and bloody."

The goetic spun around like mercury. "Many of our own numbers can expect to be banished as it will most likely set us into direct conflict with the earthlings. Personally, I don't want to do this."

"What are we to do?" Quezz shrugged her shoulders. "Why don't we abandon the mission at this point?"

That was a terrible suggestion. The asura had uttered it out of fear and laziness. Although her goetic superior seemed to have come back to her senses, she may have just reopened a wound with that thoughtless advice.

" _No_! How dare you!" Glasya screamed at top volume, inches from her face. "We cannot give up! This opportunity is too rare for us to just throw away! From here we use brute force. Instead of deceiving the elven race, we shall drag them into these arks. One-by-one, if need be."

Obediently, the asura remained at attention before her boss. She opened her pointed ears and listened. She wished in silence that she would come away from the chamber unscathed by the wiry claws of the president.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this!" the goetic screamed up into the high vault of the chamber. The residue of its timbre carried up to the capstone of the pyramid. "This will take forever. It's precisely what my brother had warned against. We could be culling these miscreant elves for years with this stupid new plan. That's why deception is always, _always_ preferable to a stand-up fight! I should know this! I am the Queen of Assassination!"

Bastet cringed at her master's wail and shifted her weight to the other side of the divan. More than anything, she wanted to hide under the pillows until this display of anger was over. In all hopes, her friend would not beat her later in order to release her stress and aggression on _something_. The erinyes knew that she was the president's best friend, but she was also her pet, and was treated as such for better or worse. It was a sick and unholy arrangement sometimes.

Whenever Glasya wanted to play, Bastet would enjoy games with her. Many times the two would perform pranks and jokes on the other infernals, and this gave her a sense of pride and security. She loved it when they would play dress-up most of all. Whenever the president was feeling lonely or blue, she would pet her soft hair like an earthling would a plush kitten. Glasya, being Glasya, was not always the best of masters, however. At times when she was frustrated or enraged, and her focus of spite was nowhere to be found, the goetic would beat or torture Bastet from out of the blue. Char-marks ran up and down the erinyes' tough back from numerous and unwarranted thrashings meted-out over the ages.

"We'll have to use the behemoths," the High President lowered her head. "Each one of these arks has one resting in its bellyhold. Ours goes by the name of Choronzon. It is one of the most powerful behemoths in all the Nine."

"What should I do at this point, Madame??" the asura asked.

Glasya sprang back over to the wall map. Its glowing information was still discernible despite the destroyed frame. "I will coordinate the forces through the scrying pool. Once we have been synchronized, we'll let the behemoths loose. They are the best option we have for scooping the elves up. From there, the beasts can makes passes throughout the land and devour the elven tripe until they are full. Then they go back out and do it again. Over and over and over and over."

She turned back to Quezz. "You will be just another amongst the culling parties. Many of the elves will try to flee by water or air, and that can cause problems for the behemoths. You and yours will take matters to a more surgical level. I won't lie; your duties will be dangerous as many of these willful mortals will try to fight back."

Quezz took inventory of her powers and prowess. There was no elf on the face of the earth that could match her strength, and the red mana that they relied on was nothing more than a stunning bump to her demonic hide. "I am not worried, Madame. I can do this."

"That is fortunate to know, Quezz." Glasya let out a quick, feeble smile. "You will launch out with the other demons once the behemoths have been let loose. The elves won't know what to make of them and the panic will be amazing! These things are absolute monsters!"

It was true, the asura agreed. The elves would not understand what would be happening once the arks unleashed these tremendous dragons. Before the Fall, the behemoths were kind and sagacious beings known as _shedus_. They were much like wise pets that many of the angelics had relied upon for their wisdom and were the most gracious of animals. As the rebellion in Paradise waged on, many of their numbers were spirited away by Lucifer's forces as not a one of them would go upon their own will.

Lucifer had made certain to befoul and curse the poor, benevolent beasts into hideous monsters that were nothing more than a mockery of what they once were. What were once wise and loving had become pointless eating machines of only the barest intelligence. Many of the infernals were terribly frightened of them as they were unruly and unpredictable. Their devilish emperor would often use their guts as an object of punishment for those who had dared to defy him. Cadreth, Quezz assumed, would find his eternal home in one of their rancid bowels.

"We must assemble the gondolas and strap them to their backs," the goetic turned her attentions toward the cowering form of Bastet. "Then we will have our squadrons pilot the blasted things the best we can. I'll have Buboe take the reins of Choronzon."

Quezz met Glasya's attentions as well. The asura's' eyes grew wide as she knew her master was feeling salty. "Yes, Madame."

"Good. Be ready for the alarm. When it sounds, launch forth and grab the first elf you see then deliver it back to the ark," the High President was sliding over to the divan in slow, skulking movements. "Simply throw it in a culling portal and repeat. As you can guess, this is going to take a very long time. Now, be off and be at the ready!"

"Yes, Madame," Quezz turned about-face and made her way off to the legionnaire's chambers to await her orders. From behind her, she could hear Bastet utter a sorrowful whine.

Glasya pulled her pet up by the nape of her long neck. The whimper of protest rose to a moan of pain. The erinyes knew that her master would have another stress-relieving session with her body as the scratching post.

"Please don't hurt me, Master," she begged as the goetic oozed behind her.

With a steely index finger, the High President raked a sharp nail down her back. The pain burned through her flesh. "Owww!"

Tears of hopelessness only egged the goetic on. Sometimes these things had to be done, or else she wouldn't be able to think with a clear mind. "But Bass, I _have_ to hurt you because I love you so much! Don't you get it?"

With a heavy silence, Bastet lowered her head in shame as her master escorted her by her dark cornrows toward her personal chambers. The erinyes knew that today's beating would be severe as her makeup was already running down her sharp features in anticipation for it.
Will You Meet Me in the Air?

**O** fficers of the courts ran toward the rotunda from the side entrance of the Circle of Law in a panic. Unlike the regular variety of municipal wardens, these armors were not adorned in the imposing and bulky plating, but were bedecked in less-conspicuous blue cloaks and badges. From the looks on their faces, these wardens must have seen a wraith.

"Someone put the Circle on high alert!" a member of their contingent alarmed to nobody in particular as they emptied into the spacious central chamber. "One of the Aldebarans busted through the door and nearly killed an AYP warden!"

Tam'laa's father approached the three officers with a raised hand. "Hang on there, wardens, we saw it all. You must mean the one they call Quezz."

"Don't care what it's called," the warden shook. "She just started running at top speed toward our station and then launched herself right into the side entrance doors! The place is a total wreck!"

The old colonel raised his identification to the flustered warden for posterity. As the wicked cat was out of the bag, he didn't care for it to be reopened by any more court bulls who were not in-the-know. "Colonel Banda Na'rundi, Gonduanna Defense Forces. Royal Casters."

"Good morning, Colonel," he flashed his own badge back at the gold elf. "Warden Ty'myss, Officer of the Court. What happened here?"

Na'rundi composed himself with a huff. He figured he would give this officer the short version of the story as he wanted out of that circle as soon as possible. "It appears we have a small civil war brewing within the ranks of our most gracious guests, Warden. The first blow of it was struck right here in these halls."

Noticing the black streak of sewage-blood marring the highly-polished marble floor, Ty'myss nodded in its direction. "What in the Nine is that stuff? It stinks like it came right up from there!"

"It did, Warden," the colonel affirmed with a curt nod. "That fragrant puddle you smell before you _was_ Prince Stolas. And if you'll kick back for a moment and watch this live exposé, you'll learn that the Nine is precisely where he was from."

Venn'lith Mitlan was wrapped with an elegance only she could pull off in such an austere black cloak nearby. Djaenn was amazed to see that the angelic's healing forces had left not a mark from Quen'die's beating upon her smooth face. "Oh gods, my baby! Your face is still perfect! All I need to do is even out some of the base and..."

"Ith's okay, Djaenn. Juth make thure my thades are on thtraight," the Xochian lisped as she was still shaking from the brutality of that morning. The odd thing about it was she wasn't as bothered with the loss of her teeth as she would have expected. In the back of her mind, she was shopping for extravagant dentures to replace her lost ivories. She bounced back and forth between silver and gold. Perhaps even a platinum grill was the best fit for her? Could she still get cavities in her new fakes, she wondered?

"All right, kiddo," Quay'liss Dalian moved into the Prime Warden's impromptu dressing area with a sure stride. "We go on in five. I'll take the lead, honey; just nod your head when you agree with something I say, okay?"

Venn'lith nodded her head with a slight bob as to not disrupt Djaenn's business and Dalian thought it was so cute. "Yeth!"

Mavriel ushered Quen'die over to Tam'laa and her father. The maiden was still quivering also from the fallout of her violent breakdown as well as from the surge of nervous energy in that rotunda. Something big was on the verge of happening and once that report hit the flow, the world would never be the same. Everybody in the circle that morning could feel it altogether, even if they were not aware of what had just happened. It was a collective feeling. The blanket of doom was too thick to be ignored as the sixth sense of survival was infecting everyone.

"Look, Mavriel," Banda halted the angelic. The look on the colonel's face was grim. "I can hear the protesters outside. We won't be able to get Dee out to Ferd'inn's coach. We waited too long. They'll tear her apart the second they see her go out there."

The maiden raised her head to her guardian; as slow as a megasloth. By the look in her eyes, it was apparent that she did not register those words, and even if she had, they did not matter. "Mavriel, we need to go."

"She's right," the angelic nodded. "Continue to your villa, Banda. Go with Dee's father. The crowd will not be any the wiser. I have the plan for us all worked out. Leave now before this report is unleashed. You may find the traffic disagreeable."

Na'rundi gave a short smile to the angel. "Very well, Mavriel. It was good working with you. We will keep in contact later tonight. Hopefully, this will all put an end to this situation."

The angel's eyes cast down in sorrow. He slightly shook his blond head in prescient disappointment. "No, Colonel. This will only mark the beginning of a much greater trial. I fear your visitors will not leave so easily."

"And I fear equally that you may be correct," the gold elf considered with a stern tone. "All of elfdom will need some great assistance. Probably by this very afternoon."

He turned about-face as if he were still barking out drills to his platoon back in his days as a sergeant. Tam'laa laughed to herself at her father's instinctive militarism before she looked back at her friends and waved them a subdued farewell. Savoring the goodbye, Quen'die wondered for a moment if she would ever see any of them again.

Lights from the mirrors burst to life with a chorus of manasong. They were much louder than the mundane illumination at a common home, as their luminosity required much more power. The sun elf and the newsie were at their marks and the broadcast was ready to enter the flow, live and in real time. The proverbial fan was about to be covered in flying filth.

"Good morning Atlantis!" Dalian began as usual. The rest of her special report would not be as chipper. With each and every word she conveyed to the public, the infernal agents all over the world would hear them as well. One of the recording techs off to the side was backing up the transmission in double the redundancy as he knew this production was history in the making. It had to be preserved at all costs. It was either going to spark the fight for victory or the demise of every elf on Earth. There would be no easy way out of it after it hit the flow.

"Dee, look at me," the deva held both of her wounded cheeks in his gentle hands. For a moment, Quen'die could feel them soothe her burns along with the manapatches. "I have a way out of here for both of us, but we need to be quick about it and you will need to be very brave."

Although she was still dazed by that morning's drama, Mavriel's words were lucid and she didn't like the way they were intoned. "How do you mean?"

"Here, put your arm around my shoulder and hold on to my waist," her angelic instructed. "Now close your eyes..."

Gravity was a memory. The weight of the world that she had felt on her shoulders was gone just as it was below her feet. She felt tremendous and she could no longer keep her eyes shut. Higher and higher, she saw the bewildered faces of the wardens, lawyers and even criminals populating the Circle of Law level-by-level pass ever below her. A scruffy-looking convict on the tenth floor balcony pointed at her and shouted, "Hey! You go, maiden! Whoo-hoo!"

Glass from the upper dome of the structure shattered as Quen'die shut her eyes against the raining shards by protective reflex. When she reopened her lids, she was met with a view of the blank-white sky of that overcast day. Pivoting her head about, she saw that her feet touched nothing but the air and she and the angel were soon high above any structure the city of Corosa had ever hoped to reach.

While in midair, the one thing she marveled at was how fresh everything smelled. Despite her lack of a bath or a waterfall for the past three days, the absence of pollution and population treated her to an olfactory sensation she had never known before. For her whole life, all she had been breathing was stale oxygen, and Mavriel was treating her to the real stuff. This was the exact atmosphere as the Creator had imagined it for the people and for all of life in general. There was no static buzz jarring the nose from charged mana, no oils or fragrances or stinging perfumes, no stifling sweat or huffing stress from commuters packed together like rats. This was just pure freshness and she loved every second of it.

"Okay, Mavriel," she yelled into the deva's ear. The wind was deafening to her senses so far up in the sky. "I just have to get a pair of wings! This is too capital! I definitely wanna be a deva when I grow up!"

Mavriel laughed at her endearing naiveté. "All right, I'll get you an application when we hit the ground."

The Circle of Law was far behind and below them. The maiden could see everything Corosa had to offer underneath her feet. Nanna's flatblock, her adept's school, the docks and the beach all looked so small from her lofty vantage point. Further down in the distance rested the gloom of the pyramids. In midair, she kicked off the dirty slippers the dungeon had supplied her and watched the ugly red footwear slowly spiral down into the city below.

"Can we stay up here forever?" she whispered into the deva's ear.

"I wish we could, Dee," he answered with a soft hiss. Even though the high wind was roaring in her face, she could hear the angelic with perfect pitch, as if his voice was projected in her mind.

Before she was able to enjoy her strange and new perspective of everyday life in full, Quen'die could feel their altitude dropping in her innards. Mavriel was preparing for his final descent as they made their way toward the docks district. The maiden truly did not want her flight to end, but she also accounted for the short time they had left to deliver her to safety. Already, small flights of the infernals were whipping through the midmorning sky towards their assigned arks. Some of them above, some of them below. The word was out as Venn'lith and her crew was alerting the world.

"Do you see them?" Mavriel warned with a grim moan. "The demons are getting spooked. This is going to get hot once they remobilize."

Her joys of open flight melted with his caveat. "Yes, I do. Whatever it is I need to do next, you can count on me. I just need your instructions."

Smells of the ocean salt and brine began to fill her nose stronger and stronger with each foot of their descent. Face's small house stood before them in the clear light of the day and she felt strong knowing that she was going to be amongst good friends for this trial. As they flew closer, she could make out the warm glow of that crowded house and readied herself for the next phase of their plans.

A large form lumbered out of the shanty's front door. Over seven-and-a-half feet of pure muscle stretched in a display of power. Quen'die remembered how the big lout had swung her comparatively smaller frame about on the dance floor at that party, which seemed so long ago as it may as well have been on another planet.

Changing his surly face to one of gleeful surprise, Warehouse waved with happy energy. As Mavriel and his ward touched the ground, the big Zobbo boomed, "Yeah!"

"Hey Warehouse!" she beamed back. Although she had always liked the Zobbos, and working with them was a blast, she had never felt so happy to be at their doorstep. For some reason, Mavriel picked the right place and the right time.

Soon after touchdown, Face and Cheatsheet joined their taciturn comrade. "Hey, Red! You made it! Have a nice flight there, convict?"

Quen'die looked up to her heavenly warden and smiled from the wonderful memory of sailing through the unblemished atmosphere like an eagle. How could she answer Face's question with any proper account, she asked herself? There was no other feeling quite as fantastic to compare it to.

"Yeah, it was all right, but they didn't serve an in-flight meal."

***

"...as we learn from an inside source that our saviors are not who, or rather, what they claim to be. According to their agent known as Cadreth, whom you may know as Prime Warden Mitlan's personal assistant, these alleged visitors from the heavens are, in fact, elements from the Nine Hells themselves! Cadreth reports of their terrible plan to deliver the entirety of elfdom into its very bowels. Although there have been growing numbers of people in the past decades who doubt even the existence of the hells, we have Lord Cadreth today with us to elucidate the viewing public and to verify this report. Greetings, Lord Cadreth..."

Sammian glared at the huge screen on the wall of the Mitlan's gaming room and shot up from the comfortable sofa in a state of cold fear. An even colder presence bored into the report from behind her. She did not need to turn around to sense that Lucifer was livid. It was to be a long and terrible afternoon, she supposed.

The peri closed her eyes to wait for a scream, a howl, or a tantrum. Perhaps her new master would break or throw something across the room. Perhaps the devil would even do her bodily harm in order to release the tension upon someone who just so happened to be there.

"Sammian, my love," he called to her with the elfmaid's voice in a calm tone that rather surprised her. She figured his anger was going to be a slow smolder over this travesty. In the back of her mind, she was searching for ways to be out of his presence as soon as was possible. "Let me see your face."

She couldn't hide her fear and anguish. Under normal circumstances, as an erelim, she was amazing at employing a good poker face, but she never had to investigate the Morning Star himself. So much power and force bled from his every pore, even while in the form of a young co-ed.

Complying with his directive, Sammian felt the earthly time slow down even more than it already had for her as she was not eager to begin this confrontation. The dark master was such a paranoid entity, and she feared that he was going to blame her for being in compact with Cadreth or any other demon with rebellion on their minds.

"Yes, my lord."

"Do you see why I never wanted it to be this way?" he simmered. The look on Minn'dre's face was twisted into a countenance that the elfmaid would not be able to muster under her own natural anatomy. The possession was agitating new muscles in her face and Sammian thought it looked so odd and alien. It was quite simple to see, Lucifer was mad.

"Yes, my lord," she moaned again in reaction. There really was nothing else that could be said to him at that point.

"In battle, a direct attack is so foolish as it creates what is known as attrition. Now that our identities are unveiled, many of us will be destroyed as we must forcefully gather the stinking elves by hand." Minn'dre walked over to a cabinet of Centeo's and swung yet another one of his vases to the ground in a million pieces with nary a thought. It had become a common, angry quirk of his.

Regaining composure, he cracked Minn'dre's neck from the tension. "The old saying states that it is better to walk to the pasture and herd all the cows than run down there and catch only one. This, my dear Sammian, is what we are now forced to do. This is all Cadreth's fault. Stolas was an idiot for assigning his lustful kind to an adolescent with already-raging hormones as it is. He should have deployed a female tutor. Ah, that demon is irresistible to begin with! I really don't know if our old prince was trying to amuse himself with that or play a joke on me. Either way, plans must change for the worse."

The peri braved a suggestion and regretted it once the words flowed out of her mouth. "Would it be better for us to terminate this operation?"

Minn'dre's mouth opened wider than her jaws mortally allowed in a hellish howl the very instant Sammian offered her wisdom. "Never! This could be our only chance in eons to scoop these things away from the hands of...I can't even say His Name right now. I _hate_ Him so much!"

A solid look of suspicion silenced the entire games' room. Not even the soft breath of the climate control could be heard. Sammian wondered if her master had the power to stop time. "I see it all clearly now, Peri. You were sent to sabotage my plan all along."

"No, Lucifer, I lov..."

"Yes, you, being the erelim scum that you are, were sent by that timeless _Thing_ to torture me! He just wanted to wave these mortal dolts in my face like a piping-hot banquet before a beggar only to rip it away from my unholy mouth!" Lucifer's eyes overtook any last sentience in Minn'dre's brain as the blue irises rolled back into it.

"Master Lucifer! I..."

"SHUT YOUR FOUL HOLE!" the wide-open mortal mouth was no longer moving. Lucifer's words screamed directly into the mind of the fallen hopeful. Pain from the psychic decibels stabbed at her very core. "I assure you, I will at least come away from this rotten joke with your head forever rammed within the rear-end of a behemoth!"

Lucifer only had the strength of an elven maiden in that form, Sammian sized with haste. She knew that there would be no convincing the dark lord that she was no longer amongst the choirs of his Adversary. Paranoia ruled his very core and that decision was never going to change. The peri had to think fast.

In the soft dimness of the games' room that day, Sammian shot Minn'dre's face with a quick fist. The maiden's nose exploded even though the fallen angel tried to pull her punch. She knew it had to be done to be away from Lucifer's infernal gaze.

So many woes ran through her as she navigated the swirling corridors of the Mitlan mansion. Minn'dre's broken body could not hope to catch up to her flight. Yes, Lucifer was right, the peri decided. The game was not over, but it was most certain to be for her.

The only two options left, she supposed, were to somehow banish herself to Earth or face judgment before the Archangel Michael. The former choice would mean an endless and boring existence on the lam whilst the latter would more likely than not slingshot her right into Lucifer's maw. Such a decision would have to wait for calmer waters.

Sammian's hit was shattering, thought the devil. He hated skulking around the earth in elven form, but that was what had to be done to route any backstabbers. All in all, he figured it was a wise choice despite the bloody consequences.

As he made his way deeper down into the innards of the mansion, he drooled blood from Minn'dre's wound without care. Lolling with feline laziness next to an ornamental suit of feathered Xochian armor from ages past sat an albino leopard. The perfect animal for a perfect agent, he thought.

It was of great fortune; Lord Mitlan and his concubine were off at the Circle of Finance that day. The death of his daughter's pet cat could have sparked some deep concern within that dysfunctional family, and that would only make the summoning all the more problematic. In such an event, Lucifer would have, of course, slaughtered them all as well.

***

Down in the underground sanctum of the fiend Mitlan, Lucifer wiped the bloody blade on the sides of Minn'dre's summer robe and threw it across the chamber with a blithe toss. Great cat blood poured into the summoning pool installed by the stupid financial mogul. At least the old lord was resourceful, the devil thought.

With much haste, the dark lord spat the incantation to summon his lovely assassin. Mortals in the "elder cabals," as they called them, would make the process out to be some sort of pretentious and grand ceremony, when it was really nothing more than placing a phone call. A rather disgusting and messy phone call, but still a mundane action, and Lucifer always thought the elves that had attempted to place them were all terrified idiots.

Blood from the slain leopard bubbled in the small pool with each word uttered from Minn'dre's lips. Even though her voice had changed to a nasal whine from the smashed nose, the summoning music was still true.

Arising from the puddle of feline gore, a faint blue light snaked its way to the high vault of the room's ceiling. With every one of Lucifer's words, the light grew in intensity until an almost solid cylinder of azure glow formed out of the grue.

"C'mon! _ANSWER ME!_ " he hissed without patience.

Soon, the limping form of a female filled the light. Her hair was fashioned in thick cornrows which were plaited to perfection, but her usually-heavy makeup was streaked down her catty face. The demon was clutching her sides in what appeared to be pain.

"Ah, Bastet, my kitten," the devil greeted. "So pleased you could answer my call."

Her face switched in a flash from wincing grief to anger as she could only see the prosaic form of a blond elfmaid with a broken nose before her. "Who are you! Why do you disturb me, mortal?"

For the first time in hours, Lucifer was hit with a pang of mirth at that. "Bastet! It's me! Can you not tell?"

"This is not amusing, mortal! Who is ' _me_?" she challenged with spite.

All humor had drained from the devil. He didn't like his assassin's tone of voice and thoughts of Sammian's suspected treachery welled in his mind once again. "Bastet! I am your master! Bow to your _god_! Bow to Lucifer!"

His bellow was unmistakable, and she complied without hesitation. Glasya had been scratching and whipping her all morning and the demon cared not for a worse session of beating from the boss. "Yes, my lord. What do you wish of me?"

"Sammian has betrayed us," Minn'dre's voice was grim and held a hint of panic. "She had this arranged all along with the Adversary. I am sure you realize the situation on the outside, yes?"

Still locked in a deep bow, the cat demon nodded. "Yes. Glasya and I heard about the change of plans broadcast in the scrying pool. Our asura Quezz has confirmed this."

"That's good. Tell my baby sister to continue with my contingency measures to release the behemoths," he paused as Bastet remained silent before him. "But I have a special assignment for you, kitten."

"Yes, my lord."

He gloated at the pain his sister had subjected the cat-fiend to earlier that day. Instead of this demon, he imagined that it was Sammian who was kneeling before him like a whipped dog. "Ready yourself. Destroy Sammian and Cadreth, and do not fail my directives."
Vespiary of Battle

**T** hat afternoon, the arks were abuzz with the rumble of hellish mobilization. Deep within the innards of every one of the hulks worldwide, legions of demons were suiting themselves for their first open attack against elfdom. Troops were outfitted with wicked nets, barbs, bolos, and a variety of strange entrapment devices not known upon the earth. The Morning Star was no exception to this frenetic activity.

" _To all my legionnaires, steel yourselves and make ready! An instant promotion of rank will be bestowed unto whosoever captures the Princess and her brat king. Our master Lucifer has made the arrest of Prime Warden Venn'lith Mitlan and any member of her idiot family an ultimate priority. May their souls rot..."_

Under the incessant echoing blasts of Glasya's announcements to her cohort, and the woeful howls of the great fiend Choronzon, the behemoth pen had turned into a deafening warehouse of evil. Atop the ornate gondola, Buboe double-checked the small crystalline orb that would assist in controlling (rather poorly) the behavior of that terrific beast.

Seven twisted heads capped seven long necks from the monster's bloated trunk. Four immense stumpy legs held the awkward anatomy aloft. Much like the ark's shell, the hide of the behemoth swirled with colors as well, but much brighter. If the thing from the Nine were of a better temperament, mortal eyes could construe those hues as rather beautiful; much like a Xochian macaw. Its gargantuan dimensions dwarfed even mammoth or mastodon.

"I'll fly point, Buboe," Quezz bullied. "The High President doesn't want you failing this, so remember your responsibilities."

The chubby infernal shook his head and craned it over to the asura. The pen's unholy din allowed nothing less than a scream to be understood. " _What?_ "

" _I said,_ Fatso _, Glasya said not to screw this up!_ " she howled with pure rancor toward the fallen cherub.

"Don't uh, what's the word...," he shot back. " _Patronize_ me, Asura! Glasya ain't nothin' but a bus driver! I'm doin' the real work here!"

In terms of the infernal ranking system, Lucifer was rather tidy and ordered in his design. Insubordination was of a zero-tolerance policy in the Nine, but since everybody hated everyone else there, all such infractions were almost impossible to catalog or police. Buboe and Quezz were of the same hellish pay-grade, but held different offices and functions. The flabby demon hated being told what to do by a contemporary almost as much as he hated Glasya. The painful howls of the behemoth were growing with quick velocity to the top of Buboe's list of resentments.

Quen'die's infernal guardian sidled up to Buboe within dangerous proximity and grabbed him by the back of his brazen curls. "When this is over, I am going to roast you!"

"Just you try, you skinny wench!" he boomed. His fleshy cheeks were close enough to kiss the asura, although the two would never dare to contemplate such an action. "Now get off of me!"

The first of the ready signals howled through the guts of the Morning Star. Worldwide, this alarm was sounded throughout every ark as the operation required flawless synchronicity. The booming GONK sang a horrible noise deep within the minds of every single demon on Earth. Buboe's wretched steed wailed seven-strong in protest to the sonic burst from hell.

"Let's get ready!" the cherub barked. "I can do this!"

Quezz rolled her eyes at his pathetic display of bravado before flying off in one quick movement. "Whatever."

Sight and sensation melted into a strange puddle of shape and color before the awaiting cohort. The behemoth pen was swirling with its form and size in such a way that no mortal could make possible sense of its true parameters. Dimension was meeting dimension as the ark was unfolding its gates to allow for true hell on Earth.

Hell was what the world got as those gates attuned to the earth's vibrational frequencies. Every infernal was greeted by the sick colorless sky of that terrible afternoon as they flew forth for the great culling. Glasya ordered out another great blast from the arks' bodies just to demoralize the unwitting elves below.

Moth wings blotted the wan daylight as flights and squadrons of demons filled the air over Corosa City with a complement from four arks' full. Once the tone of their blast had died, the screams of the mortal citizenry replaced that great sound. That city was plunged into total chaos.

On board the gondola, Buboe was experiencing his first sensations of the planet ever since his kind had appeared there months ago. It treated him to smells and temperatures that he was unaccustomed to, yet such an alien environment deterred him not. Dewy warmth crawled on his skin and the salty air of the nearby ocean assaulted his piggy nostrils. What a foul place, the little hellion thought.

Choronzon, as well as all of his monstrous brethren, skipped not a beat. The fallen shedus began feasting on the scattering elves down below with frightening accuracy. Each of their seven faces was a contorted mask of woe and suffering as they hated being what they had become. As one head reared up with a howl, another would dip down with great speed and bob for elves. Their huge maws accommodated whole crowds of the mortals, but their stinking bellies could hold much more.

With a vainglorious attempt, units and squads of ADF troops shot forth howls of red mana up at the beasts. Behemoth and demon alike were all but immune to the crimson energy as the bolts simply bounced off their bodies without even a stun. The fighting spirit of elfdom did not subside, as the majority of the cordons surrounding the demonic raiding parties took not a step back.

Like a big fat baby, Buboe laughed at the screams and howls of the hopeless denizens of Corosa City. His crystal ball before him meant nothing as he let the blind and stupid beast Choronzon have its fun. The heads continued to gather up elves from down on the streets and from the rooftops. It mattered not where they tried to hide, as the alien nose of the monster could root them out like an awful giant from an old faerie tale.

Perhaps this was going to go better than expected, thought Buboe as his behemoth seemed to be making quick work of the citizenry with each of its seven gulps. Looking off to both sides, the demon saw that the forces from all of the other arks in the area were capturing and devouring the mortals with wonderful success.

Above his brassy head, the cherub saw flights of his fellow legionnaires returning with nets full of elves. Their screams for hopeless help were sickening as the helltroops emptied their catches into the mouths of his mount. Male, female, young and old all fell deep down into its belly that day.

"Say goodbye, you stupid fishies!" Buboe could not contain his glee in the dour light of their suffering. " _Ewww! Help me_!" he mocked their pleas with a porcine squeal.

Peering ahead down his behemoth's haphazard path, the anticherub could make out immense forms that were not of his compliment. Upon taking a closer look, he could see that the elves had their own beasts of battle. Squadrons of mounted mammoths hunkered ever closer to match the might of hell's superior steeds. These great animals ignored their fear of the infernal and they soldiered-on under the prodding paddles of their pilots. The honk that would emit from their trunks sounded so pitiful compared to the deafening wail of Choronzon such that the contrast filled their elven pilots with dreadful feelings of defeat.

Despite the honest effort, when the first charge of wooly cavaliers clashed with the behemoths, the infernal monsters bashed them aside with the mere force of their skulls. It mattered not if their gleaming white tusks could fell a tree, they could not dent the hide of the fallen shedu. Mammoth meat crashed into the buildings lining the streets with each powerful swipe. That afternoon, many of those gallant animals, as well as their elven commanders, did not survive their thrashing.

"Nice try, fishies!" the cherub taunted as he snorted with evil joy while Choronzon stepped without care over an elephantine carcass.

The procession continued as the war parties from the Nine pushed deeper into Atlantis' capital city. At their rate, it would be sunset by the time Lucifer's forces trudged to the steps of the High King's palace to besiege it. Buboe was pleased with the speedy progress as he imagined his promotion that was, to be sure, awaiting him.

Choronzon swung left for reasons only it knew. Buboe cared not as every direction before them was brimming with screaming, scattering bodies of the terrified. As it rounded the corner onto Wampler Avenue, the cherub's chuckling was halted by a volley of sounds unfamiliar to him.

***BANG BANG BANG***

Swinging his head about, he looked for the source of the noise. It seemed to come from all around him and he remained confused as it was not an official signal of his forces. The blasts would not stop as it was repeated every few seconds in an even meter.

Just as Lucifer had used a war call, so must these elves. That banging noise must have signaled a full defense outfit, Buboe surmised. He knew deep down that his unearthly hide would protect him from the elven forces' worthless red mana, but he still relished a solid counterattack. "Bring it on, foul fishies!"

Bring it they did. Within minutes, the skyline of Corosa City belched forth the hovering discs of the Atlantean air guard. Limmers and flitcycles of all functions and sizes rose with ominous ascension from the bowels of their beleaguered community to match the grim forces of the devil himself.

***

" _All units, please respond. All units,_ " the overhead comm never ceased its cackling. The relentless buzz was driving Venda Hay'cenn delirious.

"All right, you heard the order!" she shouted to her unit which was stationed deep in the Docks District. "Suit up and let's ship out!"

"What's going on?" Wanni Everfell hollered in confusion. He was a rookie to the civil wardens and had just received his badge two weeks prior. Although Captain Hay'cenn found him to be an eager beaver when it came to police work, he was a still little slow with his reaction time. He'd get used to it one of these days, she tried to assure herself.

"Apparently those arks just opened up again. All of them," the captain informed him as she strapped on an ivory boot. "The comm claims that there are incoming calls from all over the city reporting these huge things that are tromping around and causing havoc."

"Huh?" Wanni halted in the middle of the locker room as a look of vexation washed his face. "What's the confirmation? Is this a hoax?"

"Who cares!" she barked back at him, annoyed with his greenery. "It probably has something to do with all that drama at the courthouse this morning. I don't know. Just suit up and get ready!"

" _All units, massive destruction of property reported on the edge of town incoming from the north. Reports of large vehicles or mounts of unknown properties emerging from the arks and bearing inbound toward population. All units on high alert._ "

The usual blasé voice over the comm carried a harried worry to it. Whatever was coming down from the countryside had to be big, Venda figured. When she first saw the Prime Warden's report this morning, its grim message foretold of something dreadful about the aliens and the station had been on its last nerves all day. At first, the officers would not stop discussing what the repercussions of the teen politician's accusations would ignite. Half of the wardens on duty thought it was just sensationalism and the Aldebarans would step in to cover it up with sweet politics. The other half erred on the side of truth and feared waves of alien violence from out of those massive monoliths. According to the comm, the latter were correct. Captain Hay'cenn was amongst their lot.

"Gods, I knew this would happen," she hissed under her breath as she adjusted her breastplate over her motherhood. "Never trusted those moth-people in the first place."

The next blast from the comm was too final and grave for the rookie to swallow as he began to shed tears without even knowing it. " _All units, we are now switching to defense forces channels. Please consider their instructions with full confidence. Good luck and gods'speed_."

"This is hardcore, Wanni," Lauryl'la's mother eyed the young warden square in the face. "Are you up for this?"

He didn't give her a very confident response. "Uh, yes Captain, I-I can do this. Eh, whatever it is we're doing."

Not satisfied with the whelp's answer, Venda sneered. "Okay, kid, I'm assigning you to the command coach with Hal'rinn. Just keep your pointed ears open and don't do anything stupid. Looks like we're in the army now."

Blaring alarms lit the motor pool with red flashes. At the far end, Venda spotted her husband loading the command coach with containers of equipment for the mission. Ready-to-eat meals, tracking sensors and even survival gear were amongst the cache just in case the call was going to be an extended matter. Considering the dire reports that were coming in from the comm, Hal'rinn figured they were in for a long day.

"Hal, I'm taking the flitcycle," she informed her husband as she cradled her helmet. "Wanni is riding with you."

The warden winced at that. "Okay, just as long as he doesn't get in the way. I have faith in that kid, but this order is way beyond our capabilities here. We aren't a military outfit."

Hal'rinn's eyes looked a bit distant, his wife noticed and this sent a shiver up her spine for the first time that day. All morning she had been going through the motions and rolling with the punches, including being deputized by the ADF. Her husband's sobering stare was like a splash of cold water at 3 a.m.

"This is bad, huh?" she relented.

"Yeah, I want to get a hold of Rylla before we deploy, but she's been taken to the Health Circle for injuries. I just want to see her again." His shoulders slumped so that his armor had difficulty resting on his frame.

His wife didn't want to hear that out of him, nor did she want to see him so dejected. "She's all right. She's tough and so are we. We're just going to spot the military. We won't do any frontline engagement. We just don't have that kind of equipment. When things get too hot, you'll know and we'll scramble back to HQ."

"Venda, just hop on and be off before I change my mind and bug out to the shelters," Hal'rinn huffed a chuckle. "I'm surprised half of us haven't done that already."

Although public displays of affection were against departmental conduct, the Hay'cenns embraced and kissed without care. Anything to melt away the cold wind of their worries was needed for what could have been their last assignment together.

The UEV command coach was a modified utility model that functioned as a mobile communications laboratory and equipment dump. Hal'rinn was responsible for coordinating the civil wardens and monitoring their progress during each mission through the comm. It held a compliment of four civil wardens plus all of the equipment needed for each job. As Lauryl'la's father summoned the coach to life, he knew that the sense of security the armored vehicle provided was false. The ADF had put them in way over their heads. In the back of his mind, he knew he was going to lose some good wardens that day.

Banks of monitors sang reports before his senses as the bulky coach rumbled out of the motor pool. The size of those things the Aldebarans were riding was gigantic; bigger than any animal he had ever heard of, except, perhaps, some of the largest of the extinct dinosaurs. One direct stomp from one of their feet would crush the UEV with ease.

"Queen Wasp, this is Command, we have you on scanners. Please switch to military flow for instructions," he buzzed to his wife.

" _Copy_ ," her voice confirmed. " _En route to north quarter. ETA two minutes_."

Venda Hay'cenn soared in a triangular formation with her squad. The day looked so cold and bleak despite it being smack in the middle of summer. How appropriate for such a terrible attack. It always seemed like nothing bad ever happened under a clear blue sky. "Vespa One, Vespa Two, prepare for engagement; casters at the ready. Units Three, Four, Five, and Six hang back until we see what's the damage."

Damage was an understatement, she moaned to herself as she saw the first glimpse of the behemoth. At least seven stories, perhaps eight, of swirling colored meat bobbed and smashed through the streets of her home city. For the ADF to send them out for this kind of work was ludicrous, and she cursed to herself when she saw the horrible match she and her crew were forced to meet.

"Recall those orders. This is just way out of our scope." She signaled a retreat with a swirling arm. "No-go!"

" _What's the scene, Queen Wasp?_ " her husband asked of her callsign. " _The scanners indicate the dimensions of that thing. They're huge!_ "

"Command, this is a job for a laandbaarg at least!" she barked in frustration. "We just have handcasters!"

"Copy," her husband wiped his eyes in the green light of the cab's dashboard. "Just fly around the area a few times and give the ADF enemy positions. I don't need you guys getting hurt. You aren't equipped to go toe-to-toe with those things. Maintain silent running. Don't attract their attention."

With haste, Venda halted the wail of her flitcycle's sirens. "Silent running, proceed with silent running!" she ordered her squad through her comm.

" _Queen Wasp, this is Treetop Actual_ ," a posh, elderly voice cracked through her channel. The tones and squelches of the military flow were so different from those of the civil wardens. " _Provide us with enemy positions._ "

"Copy, Actual," she banked her cycle over a water tower. "We have one of their beasts on Fifth and North Cell. Thing's just scooping up elves. With, get this, seven heads!"

" _Copy, Queen Wasp, what's the air look like?"_

"Negative," she buzzed as she scanned the sky around her squad. "Negative for bogies."

" _That's a copy, Queen Wasp,_ " the pause over the comm made the warden nervous. " _Prepare for elements of the 134th Air Guard inbound; full wing. ETA five minutes to your position._ "

The news from the army's command ran bolts of courage through her form. Venda revved her flitcycle with speedy joy upon hearing that an actual military force was sweeping in to give the thrashing beast down below what-for. "Squad, we have the 134th inbound in five! Whoo-hoo!"

Swerving a quick pass around the hulking doom, Venda could see that the thing was being steered by one of the Aldebarans sitting in a strange gondola. Slapping her handcaster, she was tempted to take a shot at the fleshy alien pilot, but recalled her urge as she didn't want to draw the attention of his terrible steed.

" _Queen Wasp, scanners indicate unknowns inbound on our three,_ " Vespa One informed with a tone of youthful worry through his crackles. " _They aren't ADF_."

"Copy, One," she confirmed the report in her sights on her own screen. It appeared to be twelve elements bearing down from the north, right out of one of the pyramids. "Maintain one thousand and keep quiet. We need to paint the location for the Air Guard. Just follow that thing and stay up high."

Despite their valiant effort to remain furtive, the demons matched the squad's altitude. For a slight moment, their unholy flight disappeared behind the immense obelisk of the city's primary manaspring. The structure dwarfed anything else constructed by elfdom as its point scratched the sky by almost a half-mile. The winged fiends sprayed out from behind the spiraling power core within seconds and bore down on Venda's flight.

"Twelve bogies at three inbound and locked onto our position!" Vespa One cried in horror. "They're fast! They see us!"

"Prepare to engage," Venda shook her head in despair. "Casters at the ready."

For months, the Aldebarans were never seen without a polite smile drawn across their faces, especially if on the manascreen. These specimens were of a different temperament as they exuded nothing but rage and hate. What were once construed by the general public of Atlantis as genial and gracious were now displaying their true colors to the besieged wardens.

After Venda shot forth a screaming bolt at the fiend nearest to her, the target dodged it with a slight yaw and no effort at that. It carried a large squirming ball cast of the same swirling colors as the foul thing that was tearing up the city below.

Pulling back in an adept hover, the demon threw the thing in Venda's direction. Expecting to be hit by the colorful boulder with a full force, Lauryl'la's mother became confused as there was no impact when she reopened her terrified eyes. "What are these things?" she blasted to no one in particular.

Six-inch-tall beasts were crawling all over her cycle like giant bugs. They too, bore the same moth wings as a typical fiend, but were much uglier and less charming. Skittering, mewling noises oozed from their tiny mouths in between the bites they delivered to the cycle and Venda's armor.

"Get these things off me!" she batted at two of them while attempting to steer her cycle with only her legs.

One of the imps that crawled up her back tore her helmet off her head and threw the materiel out into the afternoon. Venda's thick auburn hair flew around her eyes in the high winds of the lower atmosphere. "Gods! I can't see!"

As she brushed the lush locks from her face, another imp was chewing on the drive relay of her cycle which allowed the manaball to power her steering. In desperation, she tried to kick the tiny thing off of it, but it would only fly right back to its grisly job as it yattered with its incessant squeals.

Looking back at her flight, she could see that her crew too was beleaguered with the little gremlins. Vespa Three's manaball was blinking in protest as his imp was chewing away at the main leads to his cycle. Once the little beast was successful, Vespa Three would be certain to fall to his death.

Her handlebars wouldn't respond to her push. The goofy demonette had severed its link to the power. Venda Hay'cenn was one thousand feet in the air and could no longer steer her cycle.

Cold fear was replaced by sheer dread as she heard the chattering laughter below her cycle's saddle. These imps were going for her manaball as well. It would only be a short matter of time before she would be splattered on the streets below. No matter how hard she kicked at the beasts, they would always return within split seconds.

"Get off of me!" she cried like a little elfling, but the imps would not listen to her feeble protests. As she saw the streets down below, she resigned herself in silence to her terrible fate. Falling - what a horrible way to die.

At 1:54 p.m., Venda Hay'cenn's cycle at last lost its link to the manaball, turning her vehicle into flightless junk. As her helmet had been torn from her person seconds earlier, not one of her crew or her husband could hear her shrieks of terror. Although she was a brave police captain who had solved many morbid cases with great success for the City of Corosa over the years, the hopeless knowledge of her assured doom was too much for her nerves to bear. At 1:55 p.m., Lauryl'la Hay'cenn was rendered motherless and Hal'rinn Hay'cenn a widower.

At 1:56 p.m., the Atlantis Air Guard arrived at their positions as promised with a full complement of heavy combat limmers. The valiant rescue mission was as worthless as Venda's cycle, as even their heaviest of casters did nothing to stop the flying fiends. By 2:03 p.m. that afternoon, many of those limmerjocks met Venda as they too fell to their demise. At 2:05 p.m., Treetop Actual recalled the mission, thus saving the lives of his remaining squadron and millions of brens worth of military equipment.
In the Shelters Down Below

**T** hat afternoon of terrors sent the elves of Corosa underground. Many of the unfortunate ones were devoured by the behemoths or tangled by a demon's netting before they could reach safety. At the sound of the banging klaxons, elves from all walks of life needed to drop everything or enter into the ranks of the enslaved. The majority of the citizens could not believe that they were actually hearing the warning alarms upon the sounding of their initial blasts as many of them were too wrapped up in the drama of Venn'lith's broadcast from earlier that morning. For many more, it was the simple factor that their reaction time was much too slow.

Corosa City's defense alert network was delayed as well since it took multitudes of incoming complaints of "giant monsters" from the outlying rural areas for the municipality to respond with the citywide alarm. Too many civil wardens on call at that time brushed those pleas off as conspiracies or pranks. By the time the official warnings were loosed upon the community, almost two thousand elves had found their way into the bellies of the helldragons.

***

Civil warden Char'iss Haff'lyr presided over Defense Shelter 07 which serviced the south-central downtown district. That particular area catered to the city's creative class. Artists, musicians, intellectuals and the like idled their days away at cafes like the Sea and Shell Trading Company or by waltzing through museums. Some made an honest effort by working on whatever projects were bouncing around in their brains, and others were just hoping to fall ideally in love.

She felt fortunate to be assigned to this neighborhood, as these gentry were known to be more rational and patient than, say, the riffraff of the Docks District. By the time she had skittered into the shelter's entrance, the tunnel was already filled to capacity with cowering and screaming people. Not far down that districts' main drag, a hellbeast was eating everyone that it's seven heads could manage.

Dust and dirt clods from above rained down on everyone's heads with each resounding thump of its massive feet. At least the dim lights failed to flicker as the mana was still flowing strong, the warden thought with silent thanks.

There was just enough room for Char'iss to shimmy between the screaming elves with strained effort. With each terrible thud, another volley of frightened wails filled the tight space. Spotting her pedestal, she shoved an elf who was dressed head-to-toe in silver away from it. This maiden was supposed to be some sort of a mime and she mimicked bull horns on her head with her hands as she made a disgusted, silent face. Anything for art, winced the warden.

"Can I get everyone's attention? Please!" her microphone was competing with the cries around her and the pounding from above.

Nobody was listening. The loud thumps from the monster overhead were too much for the people to bear, but its horrible shriek was the worst. With each passing moment, those noises seemed to be getting louder. Everyone down there knew that the thing was getting closer.

"Please! Everyone! We need to keep the shelter's door closed! There are too many of us for the space to contain!" the warden yelled through her headmic.

Looking over the people's heads in either direction, she could see that each section of the shelter had already been sealed off. Each end of the tunnel was crawling with desperate elves and the situation appeared to worsen with each new addition to the cramped quarters. Char'iss knew just by a quick glance that there was no way this crowd could be sustained for more than a couple of hours.

"We need to make more room!" she shouted again as she too was infected with the fear of the crowd. "This shelter is far beyond capacity!"

Trash, juice boxes, even bottles were thrown at her feeble announcement. Voices of protest shot back at her. Nobody had the will to give up their tiny amount of space. "Please! I need at least fifty of you to leave and check with the nearest shelter for accommodation! We cannot sustain this number of you here!"

The last time she had coordinated a shelter assignment was when the Aldebarans had first revealed themselves. It had been such an orderly and peaceful arrangement as the community was already unified against a threat from Thuless'in. ADF guards had flanked her and the food and supplies were well stocked. This afternoon was different. Every elf was out for him- or herself, and Warden Haff'lyr stood alone.

"By the Twelve I will! I'm not going anywhere!" "I can't close the door!" "Get off of me!" "To the Nine with the government!" All the voices from that dim crowd were frightened and many of them were very angry; very mean. "Hey, warden! How about you go first! HAHAHAHA!"

Little by little, the chant began and all eyes looked up at the harbinger of their doom. Char'iss couldn't contain the horror in her eyes as she knew the crowd was now a mob and it would tear her to shreds. " _Hells no! We won't go! Hells no! We won't go!_ "

Closing in on the lonely bull, Char'iss felt her body being lifted off the ground as the crowd surfed her hither and yon, until, at last, she was being led toward the door like a grand feast on a moving platter. Even the mime was carrying her aloft, except she was just lifting thin air.

"Say goodbye, bull!" one of the nameless of the crowd laughed.

Dropping the warden up into the open street, the weight of her armor tripped one of the elves in the mob, thus triggering an entire flood of his comrades to topple with him. Groans of pain and hollers of terror followed as the torrent of bodies were now out of the safety of the underground.

A large shadow cast over the fallen. With a grating scream that echoed louder than a mastodon, the behemoth reared one of its seven back for an easy picking. Warden Char'iss and a host of trapped elves were swallowed whole by the blithering face of the disgraced shedu in one bite. Their fate led them into the thelema-filled gut of that thing from the hells where they soon lost consciousness from the black stench.

Seconds after the head lifted off the street with its unfortunate catch, the shelter door shut with a loud thump. The silver mime survived the event.

***

The Xochian was rushed through by a phalanx of court wardens and Quay'liss Dalian. Unlike most of the shelters designed for the public, the Circle of Law had its own raid bunker and the setup was exclusive. Only the best for the best of the best was privy to these halls of security. Senators, Prime Wardens, High-grade politicians and hotshot prosecutors all had the luxury of a rather spacious and well-designed layout at their disposal. Venn'lith was grateful that she was in the right place at the right time, but her father's underground sanctum would have provided quite ample protection had she been at home when this crisis unfolded.

Cadreth said his piece to the world and made the best of it. It was but five minutes after the broadcast when he had said his goodbyes to her. Venn'lith only trusted the very fewest of souls, but there was a deep sincerity to their parting. He had to go into exile and he promised her that he would remain on Earth. She knew in her heart that she would see him again.

Although the world was all but ending above their heads, she could not tear her thoughts away from that lad. Whenever she knew that any of her associates at school fawned over a male, she would become so annoyed with them, as it was such a mystery as to why such lads were of any importance. Most, well, every one of those elven males was disposable at best, but with Cadreth, she had at last given in to her classmates' typical feelings regarding the opposite gender.

After a good ten minutes from being separated, the maiden realized that it was the first time since she had met him that he wasn't within earshot of her. She felt sick again and she wasn't sure if it was from her worries over the lad or their little baby in her belly.

"Oh, I think I need new feet, Quay'lith," the maiden lisped as she fell back on a plush sofa in the executive bunker. "I juth want to thleep for a week!"

The reporter laughed at that. She marveled at the teen's change in attitude ever since Quen'die had beaten her to a pulp. So much more agreeable, she was. "Just close your eyes and rest. We're safe down here. This is one of the most secured shelters in the whole kingdom."

"Yeth, I know. Iths not juth that, though," Dalian could hear the sun elf suck back a sniff.

"Let me guess..."

"Ith Cadreth!" Venn'lith shot back up. Tears were leaking from the edges of her sunglasses. "What if he geths hurt? Or even killed? My little baby will not have hith _Papi_!"

"You already know it's male?" the reporter asked a bit shocked. She made a point to scribble that tidbit for later in her tablet. It may make for some good late-breaking gossip, she supposed.

"Yeth, Cadreth thayth he knowths theth kindths of thingths." She tipped down her shades to reveal her cat's glow as if that statement were a matter of national importance. From far up above, the muffled shriek of a rampaging behemoth signaled the real national emergency.

"Eh, okay," Quay'liss paused. "So, do you have any idea what his name will be?"

"Ketzel. Yeth, ith definitely Ketzel," she patted her soon-to-be plump stomach.

With a slow, furtive move, the newsie pulled her tablet out of her bag to upload the scoop of the celebrity maiden's news to the media. What could it hurt, Dalian figured? Through all the pain and suffering on the streets, perhaps a bit of levity could boost morale.

Venn'lith plopped back on the sofa and whined. His absence was already killing her and she felt strung out like a lotus juice junkie with nary a drop. "Quay'lith! I can't take it anymore! I need him here _now_!"

Dalian's eyes popped wide with her cries. What a kook. That Cadreth must have been something else, she supposed. Just as an aside, the reporter tapped in her tablet Venn'lith's addictive feelings toward the lad. It may help the general public want to not roast him alive if everything settled down since he was a demon from hell, after all.

"Djaenn! I need tangerine mocha! Now! Pleathe!"

Nearby, a prime legal warden lolling on another grand sofa rolled his eyes. He checked the pockets of his tunic for earplugs and was disheartened to not find any. Perhaps, he wondered, if being devoured by a beast from the Nine was preferable to being stuck down in that bunker with the moans of the lovesick teen tyrant.

***

Another equally-plush shelter was dug under the Circle of Finance. All morning, Centeo Mitlan and Glynna Reyliss had been monitoring the market for Thelemex as the news had broken that the lady's daughter was about to stand trial for bombing the docks.

When the screens throughout that circle had switched from the usual financial reports to the rabid beating of the mogul's daughter, Glynna was mortified to the absolute pinnacle of embarrassment. The view was blocked, for the most part, by an Aldebaran's glimmering white wings, and she wondered if that was some sort of censorship by the channel to make the event more family-friendly, but it was quite obvious that blood and teeth were flying from the center of the fracas.

Quen'die had fallen rock bottom and her mother vowed in her mind to disown her in full. She wanted not to see the trial so that she wouldn't have to judge the fiend that had become her daughter. Her fiancé just stood there with his eyes popped out, as helpless as an elf stuck in the path of a behemoth, while he saw his own daughter being thrashed. When he came to, he began barking on the phone to the ADF to send in limmers and armored combat wagons to save the maiden. Although the elder mogul seemed distant at many times, Glynna admired his dedication when it really mattered.

By the time Cadreth and Dalian had broadcast their momentous report, more jaws around the circle had dropped. The focus was no longer on Thelemex, but weapons. These lords and ladies of the Circle of Finance knew in milliseconds that this fateful exposé would start a war and, no matter where that war occurred, it meant brens.

War was what they got that afternoon. The oppressive banging alarms of the Atlantis Emergency Network arrived too late for many. Elves all over the city were casting out their homebrew videos of the carnage on the streets and they saturated the screen and the manacloud with them posthaste. Those beasts the Aldebarans rode were tremendous, and most of the mirrors only caught glimpses of their legs which were almost double the thickness of a redwood tree.

One brave amateur newsie recorded the attack from his rooftop and treated the public with a stunning view of the hellsteed. It was about a quarter of the height of those pyramids and reptilian in nature. Its bulky body was not unlike an elephant or mammoth, but it appeared to sprout feathers of the most beautiful rainbow instead of scales. The most horrifying feature of this alien beast was the seven heads crowning their long snakelike necks. The look on every one of its faces was not one of rage or hate (they must have been much too stupid to even feel hate) but one of pain and profound loss. No matter its motive, the monster had no compunction against devouring whole crowds of screaming elves in one gulp. This accidental newsie continued to record and upload until his screen went black as he too, was consumed by its wailing maw.

Centeo could not rip his eyes off the screens nor his body from the market floor. His mouth was begging broker after broker in constant, frantic calls to invest in the military goods needed to wage war against this hellish cohort. Only when ADF troops had escorted him at casterpoint did he at last agree to go below to safety.

There was no way that she could get through to him, as he would not get off the phone. His right hand was thrust out like an iron signpost in a gesture that implored Glynna to "wait a minute." That minute turned to hours.

All the rage and despair toward her daughter that morning had turned over to deep worry for the maiden and the rest of her family. This was not a petty squabble between clans or even nations, this was an interdimensional war and the elves were losing the first battle of it. By the time she had mustered the nerve to call her husband, the Atlantis Emergency Network had blocked the civilian flow to official channels only.

Running into a posh bathroom down in the circle's shelter, Glynna curled into herself like a cat on an ornate sofa. She was amazed that the city had designed such a place for the wheelers and dealers of the kingdom, and the notion that such luxury had even existed deep underground was somewhat surreal to her.

As she was all alone in that quiet gold-and-pink lavatory, she closed her dripping eyes and prayed to the Twelve for her family and for the earth. Venn'lith and Centeo Mitlan were not noted in those prayers.

***

Nanna Orsi and On'dinn Jak'sin were in the Na'rundi basement when the first thunderous plods of the behemoths assaulted Corosa. Earlier, not long before the cat was let out of the bag unto the world, Quen'die's father and the Na'rundis had returned home from the jailbreak. The lad was amazed that they had managed to pull the plan off the moment he heard the house sing of their arrival.

"Where's Quen'die?" On'dinn chirped. "What happened?"

"She's all right, son," Banda nodded. "She's with Mavriel. He's taken her to the docks with your friends you call the 'Zobbos,' I believe. It's better to keep her split up. We don't want the bad guys finding us all in one place."

"What happened? Madame Orsi and I saw it all on the screen! Dee was beating the tar out of Lith, and then Mav tried to stop it, and then that Cadreth guy killed this prince or something, and then that same Cadreth guy told the world what Mav said about the Aldebarans really being demons from the Nine Hells. He let the bomb drop on their heads! And then...," the young elf couldn't contain his wonder as his mouth ran a mile a minute.

"Yeah, that's the gist of it, On'dinn," Banda stopped him as he held a big hand aloft to quell his excitement. "I've confirmed it all with Mavriel. Tonight is going to be a whopper, so we had better load up the basement with supplies and food while we can. Mavriel claims he's returning if he's able, but the streets and the sky will be complete pandemonium."

Late that afternoon, the demonic attack was in full force and the Na'rundi villa was shaken every minute when the gigantic beasts had trod too close to the property. For some chivalric reason, On'dinn would check on Nanna with increasing frequency, but she would rebuff him every time. "Oh, On'dinn, I am much tougher than you think. Maybe even tougher than you."

As he and Tam'laa took stock of the canned goods in their basement larder, On'dinn had to re-count over and over again as the bumps from the monsters above caused him to lose his tally. Between the five of them, they would have just about enough food to feed them for a little over one week.

"Looks like we'll have to make a break to one of the public shelters sooner or later, huh?" Tam'laa surmised as she double-checked the figures on her tablet.

"Yeah, we do that or sneak out and loot," the lad countered with a shrug. "I have keys to the Sea and Shell."

His friend shook her head with a small grin. On'dinn was always a sneaky maverick. "Considering the circumstances, that might not be a bad idea. Who knows if any of those stores are ever going to reopen?"

"Sure, but how do we manage that?" the lad challenged. "Those demons will scoop us up into the air or we'll get flattened by one of those huge... _things_!"

Tam'laa bit one of her golden fingernails in thought. "Remember when Cadreth killed Prince Stolas or whatever his name was at the Circle today?"

"Yeah? So?"

"He used my father's sword to do that! It's made totally out of iron! Cold iron!" Tam'laa dug into her satchel. She pulled the stinking blade from its belly. "Chek'yiv's blade."

"Aww...Pee-Yoo!" On'dinn pinched his nose. "It smells like somebody poo'ed!"

"Yes, I gotta get a new bag after this," she laughed as she too pinched her nostrils. "But that's the answer! He barely tapped the elder and he just deformed into this black goo!"

"Why didn't Cadreth tell the world that iron kills them off on the screen?" On'dinn whined.

To that, Tam'laa shrugged. "Who knows? He has his own reasons, or maybe he didn't know iron works either? Maybe to him a blade is a blade. But I do know that red mana doesn't do a thing to them. Those court wardens fired off a couple shots at Mav and the stuff just bounced off his wings."

Still clutching his thin nose, On'dinn marveled at the small, curved scimitar. "Hmm...maybe we should test this out for ourselves."

Tam'laa shot him a wary look. "I like what you're thinking, but I don't like what you're saying. Let's just see how this plays out by the morning. Maybe Mavriel can fill us in more when he gets here."

"Hit and run?" the lad flashed the maiden a cocked smile. Another tremendous vibration from off in the distance shook the house.

Her grin, as always, was infectious. "Hit and run..."
I Am Iron Maiden

**S** leep came slow to her that night up in the spare bunk of the Zobbo's tiny house. It wasn't the constant chatter of the dockside ruffians from out in the front room, nor was it a conscious fear of the huge day that Quen'die would face without doubt the next morning that caused her bouts of tossing. Although it was the beginning of Eighthmoon, the hottest month of the year in Atlantis, the maiden was freezing. Sweat and chills wracked her body as she felt hot and she felt cold at the same time. At least she had managed to squeeze in a hot waterfall beforehand.

"Distant Dreams"

Without even realizing it, she entered into a dream of her old home. Kaedish was playing a video game, as usual, but one that she couldn't recognize. Glancing at the screen, she thought how silly it was as it appeared the goal of it was to build birthday cakes. Despite the fluffy contents, Kaedish, as usual, was becoming enraged by it.

As she wound through the alien, yet familiar halls of the house, she was shocked to find, not Father, but Mother hunkered in the kitchen over the sink. Just as the last time they saw each other, the look on her face was less than welcoming. A large brass crown, or perhaps a tiara, was slung in her hand.

"Mother, I'm..."

The lady cut the maiden off as she thrust the crown forward. There would be no discussion here, she learned in seconds. From down the hall Kaedish began swatting the manascreen. "I am done with you. All that is left is for you to take this."

"Please don't go, I still...," Quen'die's pleas were interrupted by Kaedish's repetitive banging. The sound grew ever louder.

"Kaedish! Stop! I need to talk to Mother!" the maiden screamed from over her shoulder.

Mother held out the hoop in her hand, ignoring the ruckus. "Take it and be done with me! I am no longer your queen. Maybe that's your responsibility now."

"No! I don't want it! I want you! I want you back home with us!" her daughter begged as her brother's blows became deafening.

"Those days are over," Mother said with no apparent feeling. "That family job is finished for the both of us. Here is your new assignment."

" _Mama_ , you aren't my boss or my queen! You're my..." Kaedish's strikes were met by a thunderous thump as the evil brass loop hit the ground in shattering unison.

She was still freezing when she awoke to Face's banging on the frame of the rickety bunk. It felt like ice water sweat was dumped all over her. "Wake up, Dee! You gotta get up!"

"Hey, I'm here," she mumbled with a gasp. That was a terrible experience, she thought, but it appeared that she would arise to something even worse. "W-What's going on?"

"We lucked out, Red," Face said as he pulled a flimsy tunic over his muscles. "All night one of those monster-things was roaming around the docks, but we're still here. I can't believe you actually slept through it all."

"Yeah, well, in case you don't know, they never turn off the lights in the dungeon," she smirked with some ire. "Makes sleep difficult so I had to catch up on some zeez. Don't suggest it."

The Zobbo laughed at that. "What'ya mean, Red? I was voted most likely to spend life in the slammer at school! Thanks for the info."

"Don't mention it," the maiden was pedangling over the side of the top bunk. "What's going on now?"

"It's morning now and you already have a visitor," the lad informed as he began heaping on ounces of cheap scents. The room began to reek like a nightclub regardless of the early hour. "Mavriel made it back from Tam's house. I guess he has something he wants you to do. I dunno. He's got wings, he's kinda weird, so..."

Quen'die was hit by a rock with that. After that horrible dreamtime encounter with Mother, the maiden needed a little light. Even if such encounter was all in her mind. "He's here right now?

"Yeah, he's in the front room talking to my sister. Get him while he's hot," Face smiled.

"The Perfect Kiss"

Mavriel hadn't bothered to discorporate his wings, as he must have flown over from across the bay. How the angelic had made it to the safety of the shanty through all that demonic traffic in the air puzzled the maiden, but she was thrilled to find that her lad had arrived to the docks unscathed.

Without saying a word, Quen'die rushed up to her deva and crushed him with a tremendous bearhug. His warm stoniness was all she needed at that moment, and it charged her with more energy than a good night's sleep could ever offer. Ropes of his power filled her form as she kept her eyes closed and savored it.

"Mav, I didn't think I'd see you again. I was so scared," she looked up at him with plaintive eyes. Pumpkin was sharing the moment with vicarious glee as she tugged at her bottom lip with a bit of embarrassment for the maiden, yet a fraction of jealousy.

"Awww, that's so sweet!" the Zobbette chimed.

"Quen'die," the deva could not hold back the laugh. His ward was like a happy puppy who had just found a new home. "It's good to see you too!"

She continued to clutch his amazing structure just to soak in more of that heavenly warmth. The bouts of clammy-cold shivers from the night before were all but forgotten with each second she held him and she didn't want those seconds to end.

"Quen'die," he whispered with a gentle hiss. "Come with me out to the dock in back. I need for you to do something very important. We really don't have much time."

Ever since she and Mavriel had touched down at the Zobbos' front yard the day before, the maiden had not left the house as it was much too dangerous. Even staying inside the little sea shanty was high risk as just one stomp from a behemoth could all but crush the little place. Quen'die was treated to a front row seat for the end of the world as she and the deva overlooked the bay.

Hell was raining down upon the water. Junkets of screaming elves sailed, rowed and motored in a vainglorious effort to get to somewhere else for safety. Anywhere else. Out on the lead-grey waters of Corosa Bay that morning, the traffic was packed with pure despair. Those mighty waters had become a panoramic cavalcade of burning doom and damnation.

Over the masts and riggings and sails flew flights upon flights of demons as they would swoop down in shifts only to ensnare small crowds of elves in their nets with each hellish sortie. Their strength was immense as Quen'die saw how one solitary demon had managed to scoop at least five elves in a single catch and spirit away without effort towards his ark. By the gods, they were strong.

"Gods! Mavriel! I can't see this!" she once again retreated into his chest. "They're everywhere! We can't get away!"

The deva lifted her head out of his muscled nest of sanctuary with a gentle hand and looked her straight in the eyes. "We aren't running. We won't need to."

"I don't understand," she screwed up her red brows in angry confusion. "What else can we do? Look at that out there!"

Almost with a rude push, Mavriel disengaged Quen'die's embrace. Stepping over to an array of fishing equipment fettered to the shanty's bayside wall, the deva looked like a presenter on a game show that no one would care to play. The maiden giggled a bit to herself as she thought of him in that role. _"Step right up and win any variety of amazing rusty old fishing gear! We have hooks, pitons, harpoons and tridents! If you play right now, we'll even throw in a year's supply of chum for consolation!"_

"Okay, Mav, what are we seriously gonna do?" she intoned as she jutted her hands onto her bony hips. It was a stance she had inherited from Mother when she saw someone doing something ridiculous. "Fish the demons out of the sky?"

"Not quite," he smiled at her defiant wit. "But we can use any kind of these instruments to fight back. Just as long as it's made of iron. These demons are horribly allergic to it, and a single scratch will kill them. Tam'laa told me all about it last night. That's exactly what killed Prince Stolas; an iron blade."

Grabbing a wicked-looking trident, the angelic modeled it like he was still on that pointless, imaginary game show. "Here, this will do just fine."

Quen'die didn't agree. The makeshift weapon looked like it could do some damage, but against all that infernal resistance, she still wouldn't have a chance. Those things would surround her from all three coordinates: x, y and z. "I don't like what you're suggesting. I wasn't chosen to get cut down in five minutes flat!"

His face melted into the grim light. "Quen'die, the demons have left their arks. They aren't concentrated and you will only encounter light resistance. We need to strike the ark now before they flood the things again and regroup for another roundup. The time now is perfect!"

His plan was foolish, she thought. How could he expect her to pull off such an amazing stunt? "Eh, Mavriel, are you implying that I should go into one of those _things_ personally and clear it out? You really are crazy!"

"I don't mean for you to do only that; you will recapture it for me," he countered. "I am driving it back to my Home and from there I can get some more help from my brothers and sisters."

"Why do you need me?" she was on the verge of screaming at him. "Can't you just swoop in there and kick their tails back to the hells?"

"No, that's my problem," he lowered his head as if already defeated. "Their forces have cast wards against any and all of my kind. No angels can get into those arks as long as those wards are up. Quite the nasty safeguard, I must say."

Her green eyes were huge, raw coconuts delivered fresh off the fear boat. "Oh no! I'm not going in there alone with just an iron hook. Nuh-uh. Forget it. Choose someone else."

"But only a mortal can enter it! That is precisely why Ui chose you!" the deva pled for her attention, but she didn't seem too convinced by his tall and steep revelation.

Quen'die stifled a growl of frustration. "What do I do? I don't even know how to get inside that thing, much less dispel a ward! Maybe you should ask my nanna. She's into all those kinds of things."

"Up in the capstone is a giant cornet. It is what has been emitting that horrible noise every now and again," Mavriel vied once again for her attention. "Just play a C major and then a G major and it will break the curse on that ark. They are all linked together. You dispel one curse and you've dispelled them all. I can then rush the place and drive it back to Paradise."

Her annoyance turned to despondency. Mavriel or Ui screwed up in choosing her, she supposed. There must have been a horrid mistake. "Firstly, Mavriel, I don't know how to get way up in that capstone. Secondly, I don't know a G major from a Z minor! I'm tone deaf! You got the wrong maiden."

"Eh, there is no such note as a Z minor," he chuckled.

"See my point!" she huffed back. His mirthful reactions were aggravating her more than ever.

Grabbing both of her shoulders, Mavriel could tell that she was stiff as a plank of aged maple. Her anger was fading in the split seconds they met each other's eyes. He was moving in so close to her face and she was surrendering. Into her mouth, her deva whispered softly, "Don't get the wrong idea."

When his lips met hers, she knew for the first time in her life what bliss, in all honesty, was. Many of her maiden-friends had tried to explain a first kiss in explicit detail to her. Some of the stories sounded amazing, while others were dreadful to the point of hilarity. Soft tongues, floppy tongues, slobbers, bad breath, good breath; she had heard it all. What she was experiencing transcended anything within that range. The feeling was of heaven and she knew, without a doubt, from then on that Mavriel _was_ of Heaven.

Knowledge unknown to any mortal rushed through her mind as universal answers were presented unto the inner pit of her brain. Quen'die was treated to the answers to odd mysteries that she had never even bothered to question throughout her life with each moment his wonderful lips locked onto hers. One of the more mundane of those answers known to many, but not this maiden, was the knowledge of music and sound. It was so simple and clear to her for the first time in her sixteen years. The sensation was beyond what was known as magic.

"Uh...," he broke away from her as she peered back into his eyes with the speed of a snail's crawl. Time was still the five seconds prior when she was fused to him and she never wanted the hangover of it to end. "Yeah..."

"...C major to G major. Ignore the illusory door at the southern entrance. Fly up the central stairway to the main chamber. Take a left. Ascend _those_ stairs. Capstone at the top. Level thirteen. Gotcha," Quen'die rambled as she was still in that wonderful trance.

Mavriel duly presented her the old iron trident for their coming assault. To Quen'die, it didn't look like much and her running mind came up with another and much better idea. The best option came, as odd as it may have seemed, from her mother in that terrible dream. Perhaps that tiara had meant something. "Wait, Mav! That trident is kinda lame. I have a really good friend who can help!"

"Huh? "the deva looked at her perplexed. "Someone I don't know about? Hmmm?"

"Oh, I didn't know you angelics were the jealous types!" she punched his tough form with a strike full of mirth. "Well, deal with it because his name is Jugger!"

The deva's wings fluttered with a shrug. "Who's Jugger and how can _he_ help?"

"He's my golem from my work!" she splashed out her newly-toned arms in triumph. "He's big, he's bad, and he's made one-hundred-percent out of iron! He'll totally smash everything!"

"Sounds promising," the angel smiled.

"You bet he is!" she beamed. "Only problem is, we have to go get him from his coffin at the docks and then we need to get him over to the pyramid."

Quen'die sized the deva before her up and down. "I dunno. I don't see how you can fly both of us over there. He must weigh tons!"

In the corner of her eyes, the maiden spotted the shining white utility coach parked to the side of the Zobbo's shanty. She sized it up just as she had Mavriel. It may work, she chewed in her mind. Jugger was big, but that coach was tough and it had a big flatbed trailing behind it.

"Okay, I think I know what to do, but it may be a longshot," she squinted her eyes with conviction.

"How do you mean?" the angel asked while still confused.

The maiden cocked a mischievous grin. "I'll go get Face. But you'll have to fly interference."

"Adrenaline"

"Oh my gods! I don't like this!" the Zobbo moaned as he swerved the coach around a lumbering ambulance. Its gumballs were wailing without care of the infernal forces fluttering hither and yon above them. Quen'die grabbed onto the rail of the passenger door as the coach fishtailed with the rickety trailer behind it. "This is a heck of a day to go to work, maiden!"

"Just hold tight, Face!" she continued to study the dashboard map. "Avoid any of the big red things on the screen! Those are the monsters!"

Face shot a gander at the blinking device as well. "Yeah, we don't have any of those in the area, but I'm more worried about the moths flying right over our heads!"

"Mavriel has that all taken care of. Just concentrate on the road and don't get anyone killed!" she hollered. The screams and bleats of the frantic traffic around them were vertiginous. The Zobbo felt fortunate that their destination was not far.

"Gotcha!" the lad cut a sharp right onto the docks' service road. "We're almost there."

The sky was mourning that day as it was the dun color of sorrow. Quen'die wondered if anywhere on Earth was sunny at that moment. For such a horrible travesty to happen worldwide, it seemed physically impossible that any place would be experiencing a nice day; just a blanket of doom.

"Here's the garage!" she pointed to the depot which Face had driven to hundreds of times throughout his life. "Jugger should still be in there! I just need to grab my halo."

"Next stop - bad idea!" the Zobbo imitated a Loop Liner conductor. "Seriously, Dee, I don't know about this. Jugger is gonna weigh this coach down and we'll have to take it pretty slow."

Circling overhead, the maiden could see her angel looping and barreling. The look on his face was difficult to discern at such a height, but Quen'die assumed it was angry and determined and ready to pummel any infernal agent that dared to meet him. "Keep the coach running! I'll be back in a jiff!"

She hurtled ropes and pylons on her way to the golem hanger. It was just like running foreword for a hot game of runta. Not one of the obstacles in her path slowed down her speed even a fraction. Face must have been observing her performance as he began whooping with joy. "Hey yeah! You go, maiden!"

Once in the hangar, the thuds from the hellish ruckus outside could still be heard as dull echoes, but the map was correct, there was not a giant hellbeast close by as Quen'die could judge by the weak force of the concussions. Tearing the yellow ribbon off her locker, the maiden shook her head for a moment in annoyance as she read it, " _Crime Scene - Evidence_."

"Whatever," she blurted. Deep in the shadows of the cubby, she spotted the inert brazen hoop hanging, as expected, from a hook: her control halo.

With one movement, she slapped the device around her forehead and ran deeper into the garage. It was time to get an old buddy of hers out of bed. " _Good day, Quen'die Reyliss. Ready for work!_ "

Lined up just like any normal morning before a day on the job, the golems rested with nary a glimmer of life in their upright coffins. Quen'die strained her eyes in the darkness of the derelict garage to see if she was in front of her personally-assigned extramaton. Upon closer examination, she found him in the gloom. Etched in a wooden plaque from above his giant, iron frame read the name " _Jugger_."

"Good to see you again, old friend," the maiden greeted the sleeping beast as she stood back to summon it for the grand mission ahead of her.

As she closed her eyes, she felt the sting of the halo tickle her forehead as the mana coursed through. " _Golemus via vitas!_ " she chanted.

Iron clanked and squeaked with life and power as Jugger awoke from his slumber. It was only a few seconds before Quen'die could lead it forward out of its greasy nook. Just to make sure she wasn't rusty at the job, she punched a right and a left into the empty air before her. Jugger made the precise movements that she did with every twist and every nuance.

"All right, big guy," Quen'die slapped its metal frame. "We're going for a ride!"

Face waited in nervous anticipation behind his trackball as he peered overhead for what seemed like the thousandth time to see how Mavriel was holding up. Not one demon dared to engage the angelic in battle. Either they were too afraid of him or they had more pressing assignments to fulfill, such as scooping up the poor citizens of Corosa. The Zobbo felt grateful for his cover, regardless.

Jugger was barreling toward the coach, but Face could not see Quen'die. For a split second, he was harried by a great sense of dread that the rushing golem might to careen right into the side of his vehicle. It bothered not to avoid the ropes and barricades before it as it smashed through them like so much crockery. "Yo, Dee! Watch out!" he squealed before the hulking figure stopped but inches away from the coach's frame with amazing agility.

From behind the golem, Quen'die jumped in front of the passenger window. "Okay, Face, just hold the coach steady. I'm going to back him up onto your flatbed."

"Ew, okay," he winced. "Just don't scratch it. I just had it detailed!"

He could feel the whole vehicle lurch forward as Quen'die directed Jugger onto the trailer. Face grimaced again as he heard iron squeak against the cured wood of its shining body. "Well, so much for scratches," he moaned to himself.

Seconds later, a flurry of red hair exploded through Face's coach door. Quen'die looked sweaty and overexerted; her cheeks flushed, but the smile on her face belied it. "Wow! That was capital! Let's get this over with and steal us an ark!"

"And here I thought I loved adrenaline," the burly lad groaned.

"Heh," she inhaled her endorphins with a deep breath. "We have heaps more of it on our way!"

"Glorious Frequencies"

"Gah!" Face lamented. "Tell Jugger to go on a diet when this is all over, will ya?" The Zobbo checked the speedometer on his dash and read that the coach could just huff about thirty miles-per-hour with the big iron passenger in the back.

"Just keep going on and make sure we don't run into any of those!" she pointed out the windscreen at a behemoth that was squatting its backside into the side of Thelemic Ark Cool Arms far off into the horizon. "Ew, what's it doing? It looks like it's taking a poo!"

"Eh," Face squinted into the distance at the unloading beast. "I think it's dumping off all of the elves it's been eating up. They're loading them all into the arks!"

"Well, I'm going to use the front door, thank you," Quen'die grunted in defiance.

Like a bloated white turtle, the coach wound its way through the slow and hectic traffic. As it drove closer to Thelemic Ark Morning Star, fewer fellow motorists delayed the teens' journey as any sane elf would not get within five miles of a pyramid. The already-dim sky grew darker as the Zobbo steered them into the hulk's deep, triangular shadow.

"Just park this about one hundred yards before the south face," Quen'die directed her chauffeur. "After I unload Jugger, you scram home and stay put until I get back. And if you know what's best, I personally think you Zobbos better hit a shelter. That house of yours won't withstand a direct stomp from one of those things."

"Uh, yeah," the maiden had never seen Face so nervous about anything as he gazed up the side of the giant monolith. "Sounds like a good idea, Red."

"As good as it gets, I suppose," the elfmaid shrugged as she looked back at his worried face. "Remember to stay away from the big red blobs on your map."

Jugger lurched the coach again as the maiden awoke him. Face almost hit the ceiling of the vehicle's cab from the hefty shudder, but felt the large weight off its frame liberating. As Quen'die prepared for her final run, the Zobbo sped off in a hurried loop-around.

"C'mon, Jugger, do what I do, baby," she gritted between her perfect ivories. As she crouched, ready to spring off, Jugger made the exact same motions in tandem. She was in total control as the golem was nothing but an iron puppet with nary a lag of time in between them.

With each bound forward, the iron hulk raced toward the southern wall of the pyramid. All around either side of master and puppet, wrecked materiel from the abandoned ADF cordons flanked their movements. As Quen'die swiveled her head from side-to-side to view the damage, so did Jugger.

The pulsing wall of, whatever it was made of, stood before them like it had been there for millions of years. For what the maiden knew, it _was_ that old, but as she rushed for it, all that appeared solid was not. Jugger disappeared within its mass a mere second before she followed it. The ark had devoured them both.

Much like the house featured in the old faerie tale her nanna would read to her when she was little, _Old Baba's Shack_ , the ark was much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the streets. To be honest, she thought, its innards were immense. Although she had just been on solid earth moments before, the pyramid's interior was not a part of it. She was now in an altogether different dimension. It was no wonder to her how those giant beasts could fit within this structure.

Standing like a grand waterfall before them rested the wide stairway that Mavriel's kiss had denatured in her mind. It was just as if she had been there before a hundred times. Its odd familiarity surged bolts of courage through her spirit.

Her deva claimed that the resistance inside would be light, if any. Quen'die wasn't afraid; this was the right thing to do. The dock job, the golem, the dream with Mother and even five-star runta matches had made her the perfect candidate to reclaim that Holy Ark.

As she and Jugger rushed up what seemed to be an endless supply of stairs, a flight of demons swooped in from out of their flanks. "So much for light resistance, Mavriel," the maiden lamented. About eight of them or so bore down on the linked pair. In their hands, they gripped nasty barbed spears. Unlike with the rest of elfdom, they were not concerned about capturing her. These fiends wanted her dead.

Quen'die played high to match their hovering bobs. Not one of the unholy lot would stand their ground as they jabbed at her with quick, but rather timid, strikes. The demons could smell the iron off Jugger's hide and it was obvious that they were quite revolted. With a simple red tornado which she had performed countless times on the runta field, the maiden spun Jugger around with her. Not one strike was false as a flurry of sickening black muck rained down upon the whirling duo.

"Gods! This stinks!" she wretched as the stygian mess infiltrated her nostrils. It wasn't blood, it was something unlike she had ever seen. Or smelled.

Her healthy body skipped not a beat despite her gasping for air. She and Jugger bounded up the steps until they at last reached the main chamber. She figured she would have to be careful there as such a room may have been helmed with at least a light presence of infernal personnel.

It was so sudden and sloppy. Quezz popped up from behind a plush sofa. Quen'die cared not what she had been doing there or even if she knew of her arrival. Her asura blocked the archway to their left with proud moth wings in one quick and frightening movement. The sneer on her face was one of the few emotions the elfmaid had ever seen the beast display. Quezz was scared.

"Get back, Quen'die!" the demon hissed. "I-I can't let you past! Go away!"

Quen'die and Jugger halted, both with defiant arched backs. The maiden glared at her hellish guardian in synchronicity with Jugger's dead gaze. "Hmm... Let me think about that," she bit her lip with facetious concern. "Nah, I'm gonna kick your tail instead."

Quezz fluttered high, just as did the other demons. Quen'die ordered Jugger to grab her delicate waist. The asura held much power, but she was also becoming sick within her friend's iron grip. "Echh. Please, ech. Let me go!"

"Yeah, Quezz," the maiden gloated at her former captor's wriggling form which was held aloft by metal force. "Looks like Mavriel wins this round. Say goodbye, Loser!"

Quen'die squeezed her empty hand as Jugger's iron version crushed the demon's slight form. Within seconds, nothing was left of Quezz but the signature puddle of demonic black filth. No matter the stench, the maiden thought, it was worth it to rid the world of that trash. From that day forward, Quen'die held much respect for the custodial engineers who had been assigned to clean up Atlantis and make it beautiful.

The journey up to the capstone was quick and easy. A cold pang of suspicion overrode the maiden's good feelings as she worried that it was just a little too easy. Ahead of her lay the strange consoles, orbs, and screens which seemed quite obvious to be what controlled the vessel. The capstone chamber must have been from where the arks were piloted, she judged.

Nestled amongst the arrays of alien mechanics, a golden cornet was erected aloft on a pole. It looked so ancient, as if it always was and always would be. Never in her life had she seen such antiquity; not even amongst her mother's or Nanna Orsi's collections.

With great care, Quen'die looked from side to side scanning the shadows for the source of her nagging nerves. Nothing at all could be found in any direction. Except for the quiet hum and singing of the equipment, no other signs of life or activity could be noted.

Pushing Jugger aside, Quen'die rushed up the small platform which housed the cornet. "Let's see," she muttered to herself as she studied the musical device. "C major to G maj..."

Something had removed her halo as she could hear it sing with a familiar politeness, " _Golem link severed. Please remember to sign out! Have a good day, Quen'die!_ "

Above her, in the recesses of the shadowy ceiling of the capstone, a beautiful female form with brazen hair like the color of her little brother's, but much more amazing and lush, oozed down from her dark perch and wrapped herself almost with love around the maiden like a Xochian constrictor. Trouble, silent trouble.

The beast probed her mind deep as she snaked around the maiden's tough body. The revelation of Quen'die's grand role made the demon feel sick and triumphant at the same time.

"Ah, Quen'die Reyliss; 'the chosen one,'" Glasya Labolas cooed with a soft hiss into the elfmaid's twittering ear.
Heaven on the Thirteenth Floor

**F** lowery scents invaded the maiden's nostrils as the High President tightened her clutch. If she had squeezed her any harder, Quen'die would have been unable to breathe; the demon was strong. When the elfmaid closed her eyes, for a slight moment she thought she was in a florist's shop as the scintillating music of the controls and odor of the demon's perfumes painted a new sensation in the darkness while her head began to swim.

"Didn't you know trespassing is a serious offense here, maiden?" Glasya chuckled with youthful glee. "You should be downstairs with all the other fishies."

Quen'die's intended retort was arrested the moment Glasya squeezed the back of her tiny neck and lifted her off the ground like a sadistic farmer about to drown a kitten. "Time to put you in your place, 'Chosen One.'"

"You really put a damper on my brother's plans here, little whelp," she continued to gloat to Quen'die's suspended form. "But Ui chose poorly, apparently. Your tomes love to champion His supposed infallibility. But then again, why are you now in my grip?"

Her brother must have been that Lucifer guy Mavriel mentioned before. The master of the Nine itself. Glasya was known by the whole world as the coordinator of the phony "exodus," but little did most know that she was not at the top of the wretched heap. Either way, Quen'die lamented, she was the one to master her doom. It sullened the maiden to think that Travius may have been correct about her predetermined fate as she felt the demon tickle a golden dagger against her skin.

"Quen'die, I can't decide if I should slice your milky throat or crush it," she sang with sweet timbre. "This blade in my hand is perfect for sacrifice, but turning you off like a light may be what is needed for a cur such as you, yes?"

Lungs were malfunctioning in the elfmaid's chest as her heart continued to beat ever faster. It was as if the tinkling music of her surroundings was being snuffed out by the rushing of blood to her head. A new voice was layered in the swirling polyphony around her. Glasya herself was also choking.

"Hells, I... Oh...," she managed as she loosened her grasp on the elfmaid's neck with a slow weakness. Glasya was losing her strength. "Quen'die, I..."

It was almost as if the demon was imploring her help. At her first chance, Quen'die pivoted around and away from the beast. Her face was so beautiful, more so than really any elfmaid she had ever seen. That beauty began to slide and warp before her eyes as muscle tone and epithelial strength failed. Glasya's eyes were drooping and her unearthly-high cheekbones fell like an old lady down the stairs.

Split seconds passed as Quen'die was treated to the exhibit of a dissolving demoness. Her bronzed skin went from ashen-blue to oily-black in that instant. Without a word, she was nothing more than the same reeking puddle that Stolas was rendered days ago by Venn'lith's demonic beau.

Glasya's slag dripped from the arced blade in Tam'laa's fists. The maidens were paralyzed by each other's presence in the context of the alien structure; it's alien dimension. "Dee! Maiden, are you okay?"

Tam'laa Na'rundi was always a welcome sight to Quen'die's eyes. In all honesty, she was a good friend and not the fair-weather variety that Lauryl'la had proven to become. The maidens did have their differences, as did anyone, but when Tam'laa put her mind to her friendships, she did so with a gusto that sometimes took guts to maintain. In time, Quen'die would wonder how she would be able to manage to repay such devotion, but the type of friend like this gold elf would not take count.

"Gods! Tam!" Quen'die shrieked with joy and surprise. "What? How?"

"Eh...I followed you," she answered her inevitable questions. "On'dinn and I had the great idea that iron kills these things off and that's what we've been doing all morning. We had to make our way to the Sea and Shell to get extra food and, on our journey, we had to slice a couple of these moths. You should have seen On'dinn's face when I stuck my first demon. He was so freaked out! Anyway, when we made our way home and saw Face's coach with a big golem in the back and heaps of red hair in the front, we knew it was you and that you were up to something, so we followed you."

"Tam, I, uh... Thanks!" the grey elf was at a loss for words to such an unexpected savior.

"Don't mention it," she petted her tight curls with a ginger touch, making sure not to sully them with Glasya's dark remains. "You sure had some slick moves back there, maiden. I think I need to pick up a golem too!"

"Good luck with that," Quen'die managed as she was still shaken. "But Tam, you gotta go! Mav is going to drive this thing back to his Home and get more angelics. It... It's a long story and I'll tell you all about it one day, but I have to get this going."

"It's all right," she relented, not a bit hurt. "I know I sound like some character in a video game, but I think I can make my way back on my own."

"Yeah, I know, right?" Quen'die chuckled. "I just hope I get the chance to play one again. By the way, tell Mav that the wards are off if you run into him on the outside. He'll know what you're talking about. Remember - the wards are off."

As Tam'laa began to head off, she turned around. "Will do. I'll let him know if I see him. As for you, I _will_ see you again."

The maiden wasn't so sure of that. Quen'die was worried that the ark still held stragglers, but Tam'laa seemed to be able to handle herself rather well. As for On'dinn, she wasn't quite convinced that he didn't pull the snitch on her with the docks' debacle. Maybe yes, maybe no, but it was a debate that had to be dealt with at a later date. Considering what horror had been revealed unto the world, would such adolescent bickering and blame even matter, she wondered?

Arrays of unknown technology twittering before her, the maiden concentrated on the cornet. It was her prime directive and she wanted Mavriel with her up there as soon as possible. "Right, C major to G major," she informed the loneliness.

With her newfound musical knowledge, she rested her lips on the golden horn. It tasted as old as it looked, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. For a second, she wondered which one of those demons had placed their mouths to it, but she blotted out those disgusting fears for the task at hand.

Blasts wracked the hull of the capstone chamber. The very fabric of the place shook with each tone burst. It was as if she hugged a brimming manafountain and let the power circuit loose through her body. It was an experience that was nothing less than shocking and she wondered if she did it wrong as she felt very uncomfortable.

Sound dispersed as if it were slow, creeping smoke. Mavriel had spoken of these wards, but she had no clue if her blows had deactivated them. She waited in the lonely tunes of the ark's alien consoles for what seemed like years for her deva to arrive.

When the winged form burst into the chamber, Quen'die gasped in honest horror, as she wasn't sure if the shadowy silhouette was friend or foe. Something stood before her that was black inside black and she recalled her strange incident of the winged freak on the bluffs from what seemed almost a lifetime ago. Back when she wasn't so old.

"Quen'die, you did it," the warm familiarity informed her.

She ran toward her shadow and embraced him with relief. "Mav! I wasn't sure if it worked and I didn't know who you were! I...

"...please, I can't move right now, just let me stay like this for a second, okay?" she bathed in his soft heat. It was the perfect recharge to her nerves.

"That's fine, Dee," he whispered. "Besides, I still need you around."

"What?" she broke away. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're not done here. I kind of need you to come with," he grimaced.

"Why? Why can't I go back?" she almost hollered in frustration. She just wanted to hit a shelter and sleep right at that very moment.

Mavriel peered at the screens glowing over the consoles. "Look, ever since you were born, Ui rendered me deaf and mute to my brothers and sisters. I need for you to play the cornet again as they cannot hear _any_ sounds I make. Once you do, they will all awaken from their stupor and realize that the infernals had done what they did."

Her eyes widened with the awesome horror in knowing that she was to visit the realm of The Creator. "And let me guess, I need to tell them what happened too, right?"

She stomped the floor in her troubles. "Why can't you just write it all down for them? Use sign language?"

Mavriel laughed at her salty wit. "Not so easy, I'm afraid. Believe me, I've tried it before. Everything I write is gibberish to the angels and we have no such thing as sign language."

"Great," the maiden slumped her head. "What about the other gods? Everybody knows that the angels work for the gods. What about them? Talk to them!"

"Oh, yeah," Mavriel shot Quen'die a sheepish glance. "They are, uh, they're long gone. I already hinted to you about that, but they are totally unable to help us. I'm probably not supposed to tell you that, but..."

"What!" she did scream this time. "How can they not help? I know they're gone, but aren't they in, like, the afterlife?"

Clutching his stony chin in deep thought, he ruffled through ways to inform the maiden of their nature. "Look, do you remember when Prince Stolas rebuked Cadreth for spawning with Lith? He was angered that their union produced a Merovai. A Merovai is the fruit made when our kind mates with yours. Your Twelve were all Merovai from ages ago right after our Rebellion, and they were just as you are, but immortal. Natural causes could not take them. Well, maybe they were a bit more powerful than the common elf, but...they could be killed either way. Every one of them had met unfortunate fates over the ages. The world is a dangerous place, you know."

To that, Quen'die stared at the angel with business on her face. She studied him like he was a lab specimen as her eyes were locked onto his form. Her voice was just as matter-of-fact, but there was a hint of hunger in its tone. "So does that mean you and _I_ can make babies one day?"

It was such an innocent, yet hopeful question, and quite a surprise to the deva and he blushed. Her sights failed to break as it demanded answers. "Well, technically, yes, Quen'die, but that would be a horrible idea. Please don't take that the wrong way, I just mean that such a union is a matter of great power and responsibility and they don't always come out...well, right. Some of them were of great deed to the world, like your so-called harvest god, but others like She'vashh were less than accommodating. He had brought great grief to the planet."

In the gloom of the console-glows, the deva's heart sunk. In matched time, Quen'die's bottom lip fell as her eyebrows rose in utter disappointment. Yes, he loved her, but she loved him in such a way that was dangerous for him to reciprocate. That sort of temptation would be frowned upon back Home and it was more usual for the infernal variety to succumb to those impulses. "Basically, it's an evil maneuver. Please, understand this. The Twelve should never have been and neither should Cadreth's child one day be. I can only guess that the little lad will be quite formidable in his own way and hopefully, for the better."

Tears were dripping down her face as she sniffed back the despondency. Mavriel couldn't expect her to understand such a letdown as few priests on Earth could grasp the concept of the celestial/mortal pairings themselves.

Without a word, Quen'die ran into his trunk and squeezed. There was nothing left for him to do at that moment but savor what neither of them could have and console her as he tortured her with an inadvertent false hope. He hated that dynamic of emotions she had to suffer, but the consequences of indulgence would be nothing less than dire.

"It sucks that Lith gets to have a _novion_ that can fly and I can't," she whispered. As foolish as it sounded out of his lovely ward, that statement meant more than anything to her at that instant. It was the simplest way of summing up her woe. "Heh, knowing that it's Lith's kid, I think we're going to be in big trouble."

"Quen'die," he whispered as she sobbed quiet tears. "We have a job to do. I will be more than happy to talk to you about this later at length, but our time wastes."

With reluctance, she pushed herself away and wiped her eyes like an elfling who had just lost her first goldfish. Mavriel loved how unaware of herself she looked. It might take years, he figured, but she would be able to cope with the sad arrangement he would have to dictate for them.

They made their way deep into the illuminated beds and orbs of what seemed to be the organic control arrays of the capstone chamber. Upon closer inspection, Quen'die was amazed at how the instruments appeared to grow out of the Ark's walls instead of being merely installed. Some of the screens' user interfaces looked quite familiar, as the maiden could distinguish and compare their layouts to the flight simulators used in her Astrophysical Navigation classes.

"Hey! That's a Boolean trajectory, isn't it? I know this stuff!" she squealed as she pointed to the glowing images. "That's an astrophysical gimbal! And that's just a plain old map of the galaxy. I've seen that a million times at school."

With a grimy finger, she pointed with enthusiasm. "There's the Little Dipper. There's the Big Dipper, there's stupid Aldebaran, and there's the Scorpion! But..."

She frowned as she noticed the familiar map had a strange overlay appearing on top of it in a slow, ominous revelation. "But what's this? I don't recognize any of these systems."

Mavriel cleared his throat with patience. "The bright map is your dimension, while the systems on the muted map are of my dimension. The Paradise systems are in blue and the infernal ones are in red."

"Wow...," she marveled with a wary tone at the secret knowledge before her eyes. "That's a map of Heaven and the Nine?"

"The good and the bad," Mavriel smirked. "I hate to cut this lesson short, but I have to pilot this big guy back to where it ought to be. Are you ready?"

Quen'die plopped down on a posh sofa surrounding the controls and nodded with a silent briskness. "Yeah, this should be fun, but aren't I supposed to eat a bag of peanuts or something first? My professor at school says that if we don't get the protein jolt before attenuating, we could spontaneously implode or something."

The deva laughed with hearty gusto at her question to which Quen'die shot him a hurt frown. "No, that's not necessary here. Let's just say, we have mastered interdimensional travel long ago. We've pretty much narrowed it down to a perfect science by now."

"Well, whatever," she said as she scanned the chamber with bewilderment. "Okay, let's do it."

Stretching his alabaster wings which almost hit Quen'die in the head, Mavriel stood before a small pedestal that grew out of the floor without so much as a seam. Closing his eyes he began to emit a wonderful song that seemed too beautiful to come out of even his gorgeous mouth. Quen'die stared slackjawed at her interest as she had never heard such an amazing tune from any elf in her life. At that moment, she wanted him more than ever, and, knowing that he forbade that sort of relationship, it hurt her heart again. "And he can sing...," she lamented.

It was only a few notes, wonderful notes, but soon they reached their crescendo and the angel was once again silent in the room's glow. With great pause, they both basked in the silence following it and the maiden had wondered later on if she had lost some time.

"Okay, here we are," he quipped.

"What do you mean?" she responded with quick confusion.

Mavriel turned his form around to face hers. "We're here. The trip is finished."

"Bull!" she challenged as she shot herself to her feet. "I didn't feel a thing. Stop joking with me!"

"No joke," he said with a heavy gravity. "Heaven awaits right outside these walls."

"Really?" she couldn't believe the speed of their jaunt as her ears twitched to full height. "I can't wait to see this place!"

"Oh, and you _will_ wait, Dee," he admonished. "Whatever you do, you can't leave this ark or you won't be able to come back. My Realm is a one-way trip, chosen or otherwise."

She sighed in frustration. One disappointment after another filled this day. "Well, can't I just take a peek out of the viewport?"

"Afraid not," he chuckled at her persistence. "You could go blind or die, which brings us back to my first point of concern."

"Oh, of _course_ I can't!" she hollered back with sarcasm. "This place sure has lots of rules, huh?"

"For the living, I suppose," he gripped his chin. "But I need for you to do something right now."

"Oh, yeah, the cornet," she sighed, but out of impatience this time. "What do I play?"

"Play another G major. But make it loud and long. I need for the entirety of the choirs to awaken from their stupor," the deva instructed. "I'll go fetch my commanders and then you can tell them all about what happened. Be patient with them. Some of their kind can be rather...imposing."

Long and loud, just as he had suggested, she sounded that note. In her mind she could only imagine the havoc and wonder of that unknowable dimension just beyond those walls. Ui was actually out there, she cheered deep inside. What did He look like in person, she couldn't help but wonder? Myriads of angels just like her Mavriel were swirling and rushing about upon the sounding of her sonic blast.

When the maiden opened her eyes from the effort, she sucked in a gale of air. Mavriel had wasted not a moment as he was already gone from the chamber.

"Hey! Mav?" she poked her red head about in confusion. No response was given to her.

Without a delay, she crept over to the consoles and studied the ark's alien technology. On one panel of the odd user interface, she recognized the symbols punctuated amongst the runes and sigils that formed the deva's heavenly language in little time. One of the markings looked to be very close in shape and form to the earthly symbol for "open."

From side-to-side, she double-checked to make sure no one was watching. Just one little peek out of the viewport before her couldn't kill, she figured, even though Mavriel had claimed it just might. Seeing that the coast was clear, the maiden tapped her green-enameled fingernail on the glowing symbol.

Light unlike anything she had ever encountered shot through the chamber. It wasn't white, golden, or incandescent or anything so mundane. If there was a color known as "clear," that would have described it. Her throat was closing in shock as she could smell the stink of orange and almond assault each of her nostrils with intermittent bursts. Nothing was before her until the kaleidoscopic strobes of impulse blasted back and forth beneath her lids which she had shut with a tight force. The entire chamber was shuddering and she with it as if she were stuck in a flat spin.

***

Blobs of form regained normal resolution with the slow, encroaching light. She was surrounded as a crowd was peering down from over her. This crowd was a sight that made her wish she was still beyond the realm of consciousness.

"Quen'die, are you all right?" she managed to recognize Mavriel's soft voice in her haze. "Quen'die?"

It pained her to prop herself up on her elbows as her head was still reeling from whatever had just happened. Although she could see with perfect clarity once again, it took some time just to deduce what the exact natures of these beings before her were.

Angels, she agreed with her suspicions. Many angels and not all of them were formed in the same way as her deva. Mavriel bore only one pair of wings, while some of these specimens had two and three pairs lining their backs. None of them were one of those Ophanic wheel-things Mavriel had mentioned before. She felt grateful for that, because she figured seeing such a being would freak her out at that moment.

"Quen'die," her angel's voice dropped to a stern tone. "You peeked out the viewport, right?"

"Uh, kinda?" she relented like a bleating sheep.

He huffed at her admission. "You just suffered an epileptic episode by doing that. I hope that it goes away, but it may be a permanent condition for you from now on. Only time will tell."

From underneath, Quen'die felt dampness in her controller's robe. "Eww," she winced with great embarrassment. "I think I just wet myself too!"

"Mortal!" a six-winged angelic boomed down upon her crouched form. "Why does your deva bring you here, and where are the arks?"

This one was one of those "imposing" types of which Mavriel had warned her. As friendly and warm as Mavriel was, this specimen was stern and cold. It was not possible that he could be anyone's deva. An immediate answer was the best solution, she assumed as she stood herself up with some effort. "Eh, the earth is full of demons. They stole your arks and now they want to steal the elves! Well, basically."

Six-wings steadied the top of her head without a word. With an abrupt tug, he lifted the front of her handler's robe.

"Hey!" she shouted and slapped his golden-tan hand with mortified reaction. "You can't do that to a lady!"

Ignoring her protest, the angel studied her bare belly and dropped her garment with a brusque movement. "She's chosen," he informed his company the instant he saw the infinity-sigil.

"Rude!" she spat. All the modesty and embarrassment which Quen'die was suffering at that moment was replaced with pride and anger at the staunch commander's actions.

"No, I am to be called Gabriel," his drilling gaze into her eyes was stoic and almost militaristic. He must be some kind of commander, she figured. Either way, he didn't need to be a jerk and take a gander at her junk without warning, she seethed in her mind.

"Around you are a host of archangels. We will command your people against this grave issue that has befouled your world," he gestured to the motley ring of celestial life around him. Some were male, others female, but every one of them owned a beauty that matched Mavriel and was superior to any of those tawdry demons.

"Uh, sure," she peeped. This guy was not much for grand introductions, she thought, and considering the situation, perhaps being hasty wasn't such a bad idea. Taking cue from Gabriel's immediacy, the maiden shrugged. "Where do we start?"

***

A glowing, blue map filled the main chamber deep down in the center of the pyramid. A perfect representation of her world spun in slow rotation above a bright pool before them. Gabriel conducted the plan as the other angelics stood rapt within his authority. Quen'die curled on a large, comfortable pillow at the outer ring of the circular quarters. She figured it was best to keep her mouth shut and her pointed ears open.

"Commanders of the Ninth Choir, I gather you for this counterassault to rid our Creator's hosts of this infernal trespass upon elfdom!" the archangel bellowed. Quen'die almost rolled her eyes at his dramatics, but perhaps that was just the way things were done here, she shrugged.

As the globe spun into position, Atlantis was featured front and center. "Commander Uriel, you have the grand undertaking of supervising the Atlantean continent. It is smaller in size than many, but a vital control hub for elven society. Gather their mortal forces to strike from Corosa City and work your way north to Caidhul."

Following Gabriel's gestures, the angel nodded with a curt bow and turned his gentle, tanned face toward Quen'die. "And this is the home of the Chosen One, yes?"

"It is," Uriel's commander confirmed. The maiden supposed this one looked much like her Mavriel, except he possessed two more wings than the deva.

Spinning with a slight turn to the east, the familiar shape of Tam'laa's native home of Gonduanna was featured for all to see on the orbital surface. "Isais, you are in charge of the Gonduanna operations. This will be a deadly fight, as their kingdoms are tightly populated, yet very rich and advanced. You shall begin at the province of Lux and attack southbound to the province of Bot'saa. I must inform you that your fallen brother Oriax is in charge of their infernal forces. I trust you are prepared to battle him."

With elegant calm, Isais drew a slow, crooked smile across her dark, beautiful face. "That will not be a problem, Commander Gabriel." Quen'die was rather jealous of her style and found it to be almost like Xochian high fashion, except her garb was spun from golden metals that she couldn't identify. The maiden supposed that Venn'lith would drool in envy as well at that one's attire.

Eastward, the globe turned to the Kingdoms of Kumari and Kamden. "Commander Ramiel," Gabriel continued. "I need for you to oversee Kamden at Nazz province. Continue your armies eastbound and link with Commanders Indra and Soma who shall begin their own campaign from Kosa'laa province in Kumari. Is that understood?"

The triad of the heavenly affirmed Gabriel's orders in perfect, gentle unison. These three were quite unlike Mavriel, and Quen'die couldn't help but ogle at their strange forms. Indra was a shocking deep red in color, as if he was wearing paint, but upon closer inspection, it was indeed angelflesh. Soma's yellow hue was as rich as her crimson counterpart and the angelic's style was sparse, yet regal at the same time.

Further northeast, the globe centered upon Tel'lemuria. "Commander Amatarasu, you are to fight your way westward beginning in the Tel'lemurian province of Shamba'la. You shall end your campaign at the city of Xanadu. If Indra and Soma need assistance, provide it for them from their north."

A beautiful four-winged angel smiled with mighty glee and clapped her hands with a thunderous bang. Before Quen'die's eyes, a solid light enveloped her body like a cocoon. It was not quite as blinding as Heaven, but it still hurt to stare. Her sparkling-white skin had turned to a deep cerulean. The jovial countenance on her face had deformed into a menacing anger which could not be washed away. The maiden thought she looked not much different from one of the demons when they were enraged. Emitting a dramatic force, she bellowed, " _Transform! Blue Tara_!"

With a heavy spin southward, the small continent of Mu presented itself to the crowd. "Commander Galeroo!" Gabriel boomed. "You are in charge of the dream elves' counterassault. You will begin at Banban Province. There is only one ark there, but the mortal population is small and their technology is low. This may prove to be a difficult fight for your forces and they will require a heavy morale boost. The demonic master is our former, unfortunate shedu Bunyip. Lucifer has made a mockery of him as he is now a behemoth with formidable cunning and intelligence. Keep your forces close and solid with that one."

"Yes, Gabriel," a dark angel with curly, black hair confirmed the dire orders. Of the heavenly coterie, this angel was the least best-dressed, but throughout his near-obsidian skin ran strange pearly shapes that never settled on a form in their glowing animation. Quen'die felt a wave of calm in that one despite his somewhat grotesque markings.

"Kukulkan!" Gabriel bellowed as the globe spun with wild speed eastward. "This is the continent of Xo'chi. Asmodai rules the infernals here. Begin at Tyll'aan Province and force your way to the Avalonian border. This demon is particularly dangerous and the elves there may not all be copacetic with working together. You will need to employ special interpersonal relations with their lot."

"It is so, Commander Gabriel," the lavish, feathered angel nodded. The geometry of his war dress and his brilliant frock reminded Quen'die of ancient Tel'lemurian battle lords, yet this angelic's plumage was just as alien as the terrible beasts destroying her home. The similarity made the maiden a touch nervous.

"Commander Moroni," Gabriel called as the globe tilted north. "This is Avalon. You will begin at the city of Redwell and work your way up to the Vrillian tundra. There, you will defeat the demon Iktomi and his idiot lapdog Wendigo who command their forces from a location the natives refer to as 'Devil's Tower.' Like Mu, these lands are sparsely populated and of a more rustic technology, but the people are close-knit and enjoy their solidarity. Use this to your advantage."

"Y-yes, Commander Gabriel," the golden-haired angel agreed with a soft bow. Almost everything about Moroni was golden from his head to his toes. The color belied his modest robes, as if he tried to offset his naturally-luscious coloration. Upon closer inspection, Quen'die wondered if the angel was new at his position, as he seemed much more humble, almost nervous in his ways than were the rest of his choir.

"I shall personally begin assault at the southern Thuless'in province of Rom'yna and meet with Moroni at my portion of the Vril," Gabriel boasted.

The globe began to spin with slow ease on its own west-to-east course as Gabriel stood before the throng. "Before we depart, let us erect our own wards to secure this ark from infernal forces. They will be sure to shun it. Repeat this process with each ark you liberate.

"The people of this world need our assistance. We shall educate them and steel them with iron and knowledge. Intervene as much as they need, but our focus for them is in fishing poles and not fish. They shall help themselves as they have ever since our Creator had blessed them with their own life. Without any more pauses, let us begin this operation and begin it with haste!"

" _Let it be so!_ "
For Your Consideration (ii)

**R** OYAL DAILY REPORT

Eighthmoon the 28th, 2789

Besieged!

Our forces of the ADF elite are currently fending off wave after wave of the demonic attackers at the very gates of the Royal Palace itself! Fear not citizens! Our valiant efforts shall not falter. The High King and the Princess Regent are safe and will remain so by the will of the gods! A count of three behemoth steeds is battering the walls and buttresses of our King's domain, but the fight wages on!

Iron is the Key!

Deep in our kingdom's shelters, impromptu smithies have been working day and night to forge iron armaments for the grand counterassault against our otherworldly assailants! Anything from spears, knives, blades, and the new "miniball" for our casters are being fabricated. They are even retooling our golems with iron armor! Join up with the smithmaster of your local shelter and be a part of the cause! Those weapons aren't going to just build themselves!

Canine and Lupine Friends!

Do you love animals? Of course you do! Our specialist forces of the Canine and Lupine Divisions of the ADF are working night and day to guard your shelters from demonic infiltration. These lovely animals HATE the demons and will become extremely agitated when such monsters attempt to break into our vital living space! Join either the C-9 or L-9 Divisions in your shelter today and speak with a local recruiter.

Acquisition Report

Keep those daily sorties going, folks! Food, medicine, and even toys and games for the elflings are just many of the tantamount supplies that are needed to keep this effort alive. Just today, we have nationwide acquired 7 tons of rice, 2 tons of wheat, 3 tons of barley, 1 ton of hemp and 400 pounds of shellfish for our shelter network! Join a daily logistics party and you will keep the pulse of Corosa's heart beating! Visit your shelter's quartermaster for more details.

' **Shrooms and More 'Shrooms**

When food gets low, we can always rely on our friends from the Fungus Kingdom. Become a gatherer in your shelter in order to identify and harvest the ready-to-eat specimens that thrive in the underground! It may sound nasty, but with a little ingenuity, you can craft a delicious meal for your entire family! Be careful of those pretty toadstools though! They can be poisonous! Arrange a meeting with your shelter's alchemist for more info!

From Commander Uriel

Our mighty angelic defender and his celestial host are planning with ADF generals and other top-brass for that glorious day when we push those winged freaks out of our dimension forever! Join the ADF today and follow in the wonderful shadow delivered unto us from Ui Himself! Creator be praised!

Draft Lottery

Check your tablet every day! If you are between the ages of 14 to 86, the ADF may need YOU! If so, expect mustering orders to become a full-fledged soldier or pilot against the hordes from the Nine Hells just outside your shelter door! Fear not citizen! You will either live on as a hero or die defending our very existence! The other option is an eternity of total damnation. You really have no other choice!

Remember the Fallen

Over the past weeks, we have sustained terrible losses. Many of the great and not-so-great citizens of Corosa Province have succumbed to capture into the dark bellies of those arks. Cry now and not much longer! The ADF will strike back and liberate those poor souls who are awaiting a terrible fate! Only YOU can bring them back alive! Visit your local ADF recruiter for military placement or await conscription.

Mana Report

Those stupid demons! The forces of Lucifer are too engrossed with swiping up our elven bodies to destroy our infrastructure. Our mana flows just as well as ever and power wardens throughout the province are keeping the lights on! As for now, our mana levels are at one hundred percent! Let them just try to break us!

Beware Loose Lips!

You never know who's who! Keep your ideas to yourself and speak about important issues only to immediate family members and official wardens! Keep an eye on the dogs and wolves! Those demons are a sneaky lot and may attempt to infiltrate the shelters furtively! Be careful!

Keep Abreast!

The day will soon be at hand to strike back! Keep informed with this timely report for any breaking news! Every hour, on the hour!

### Gods Save the King!

From the desk of Quay'liss Dalian, Royal Reporter and Correspondent.
For Great Justice

**S** ky of the richest morning blue blanketed the ruins of Corosa City on the eleventh day of Ninthmoon. Only two cirrus wisps occupied it and Lance Corporal On'dinn Jak'sin thought that it was somehow improper to wage a grand battle under such wonderful weather. In all of the war movies his father would watch when not passed out, the producers made sure to enact the scene under the most inclement conditions. The reality never matched the notion.

Hugging the column of a demolished third-story archway, which was battered at some point by one of those behemoths, the lad made quick glances at the nest of demons basking in the sun atop another ruined structure from across the street. He couldn't be quite certain under the glare of the sunlight, but it appeared that there were five of them. Two of the females were playing some ridiculous game in which they would try to dodge each other's slap to their faces. Boredom, it seemed, had set in as fewer and fewer elves were easy for the picking by then.

While trying not to make a single noise, the young scout summoned his air-golem to life and aloft. The small drone looked much like a large bird of prey to the uninitiated eye, except that its wings failed to flap. The little wooden beast circled the nests of infernals dotting the rooftops of the local neighborhood. In total silence, it recorded their positions with the little mirrors installed in its belly. According to the elf's comsuit, the area was infested and he counted himself fortunate that he wasn't crouching right next to a gaggle of the creeps.

"Skylark to Skyline One," he hissed his whisper into the suit. "Birdie has flown. Prepare to receive coordinates."

" _Copy_ ," a posh voice responded with a loud and startling blast. The suit's harsh crackle made On'dinn wince.

On'dinn jumped the very second the P.A. systems throughout the city blasted the opening trill of the classic elven war march _The Charge of Bonn'fyr_ in ear-shattering unison. How corny, the corporal rolled his eyes. That tune was used like it was a religion in almost every war movie ever produced. All he could think about was "Killing Wabbits."

To the contrary, the alien ears of the infernals did not share On'dinn's critique of the hackneyed piece. The ADF's Psychwarden General was convinced the music would "scare the Nine out of the moths." By judging from the frantic swirl of the dun-brown forms blotting out the blue, perhaps the top brass was right. They hated it.

"Skylark to Skyline One; Skyline Two," the lad studied the coordinates on his tablet with one eye and observed the demons fluttering over his head with the other. "Bearing a mark at five-degree radial in the north okta."

" _That's a solid copy, Skylark,_ " First Lieutenant Ferd'inn Kokoff responded through his comsuit. " _Coordinates received. 76er's inbound. 'Iron Rain.' Supercharge! Supercharge! Keep your head down, lad._ "

Rain iron it did. Flak from the aerial barrage met a clutch of winged hellions dead-center as the corporal's readings were perfect. Bursts of red mana-charged metal miniballs tore through the flesh of the infernals as if they were nothing but rice paper. The demon Dysentarius caught a full load of it in his face as the hot charge and his cruel body exploded the instant it hit into a cloud of black slag.

Below, On'dinn was showered with hellfilth from the carnage in the sky. The stink was so dreadful that he couldn't hold his delicate stomach together. Some people have lower tolerances for these things, the lad considered before he flashed his meager rations down on what was left of Fifth Street.

Corporal Hyrax Arcovis cheered from the seat of his 76 millimeter heavy aircaster. Commander Uriel was spot-on as the new miniball ammunition was the perfect remedy to the infernal's natural resistance to red mana. His longtime friend Private Garb'ann was busy reloading the cannon with muscle and due haste for the next barrage.

Working with On'dinn Jak'sin under such dire circumstances had forced the former runta captain to gain a better understanding of the nonconformist elf. At first, Hyrax found himself biting his tongue to hold back his snooty disgust of the lad, but On'dinn had proven himself to be a valuable asset to the antiaerial outfit. He was small, fast and furtive, and his light steps rendered him a formidable spotter. Not once was the young elf detected when he was ordered to sneak out of the shelters for a logistics run. After a mere week in the underground, Hyrax Arcovis' better understanding of On'dinn had germinated into utter respect. Garb'ann, being Garb'ann, followed his alpha-comrade in suit.

"Good show, lads!" Ferd'inn bellowed as he held his breakfast teacup aloft. He was trying in vain to keep the drink from sullying his pristine officer's cloak from under the rumble of the airbursts. "Let's give them another dose of what-for, eh?"

Across the embedded ruin from Skyline One, Corporal Monti Dell'lavio hooted his own joy from the helm of his aircaster. "Hey, Warehouse! This is awesome! You gotta load me up for another one!"

Face took Quen'die's advice after a few days and rounded up the Zobbos for a shelter in the Docks District. Once the ADF had seen their incredibly fit forms, they were, without delay, "volunteered" for military duties. Not one of them took the assignments lightly at the onset of their training as they were forced underground for weeks and had no access to sun caskets. Pumpkin had all but suffered a nervous breakdown when she had noticed that her tan lines were disappearing into the pale. Although there was danger overhead, the sky was sunny and brilliant and the lads of Skyline Two were most grateful to at last be out under it for the first time in weeks.

"Yeah!" the giant private agreed as he shoved the miniballs into the caster's breech-slide with one burly hand.

"Yeah is right! We'll fire this one off for Princess!" Face growled as he was sure the infernals had been responsible for her disappearance which, in an oblique way, they were. "Give me some more targets, Cheatsheet!"

***

" _Black Sun One, this is Treetop Actual_ ," the brass on the comm barked. " _Give me your status_."

Master Sergeant Lauryl'la Hay'cenn scanned the readouts on her armored limmer's console. Although she had wanted to make pilot, the break to her arm earlier that summer had prevented her from such reflexive acrobatics, so the Air Guard assigned her to the position of navigator. So many fine elves of the ADF had been killed or captured in the last month that almost everyone of age was conscripted into its forces by the first week of Ninthmoon. Promotions were frequent as many elves did not survive their stations for very long. Lauryl'la had been a lowly sergeant just the week before.

During her stay at the Health Circle, she was terrified and confused. The break to her arm from the fall Quezz gave her had caused a mean fever and her body had ached everywhere. Klaxons screaming " _Code Black_!" bounced off the walls and the attending wardens had much difficulty performing the simple operation of setting a bone. Between the wails of the alarms and the thuds of the monstrous beasts outside, the maiden wondered what was happening to the world and if she would live to see it again. After weeks of rotation with the AYP to the Air Guard, she would see it and fight for it.

"Eh, gyroscopics at seventy percent," she recited into the comm. "Countergyro in synch. All readings nominal. Prepped to shunt and purge. Avionics are in the flow."

" _Copy, Black Sun. The sky is thin. Permission to throttle_."

The heavy armored limmer sang its wakesong as the motor prepared to lift the dense wood of its circular hull. Lauryl'la gave the small picture of her mother resting on the dashboard a quick caress. This flight and this fight were for her. Looking down into the bellycaster's chamber, she called to the fiery-headed lad spinning its pod idly back and forth.

"Hey Copperhead! Keep sharp! We're gonna do this!"

"Whoo-hoo!" the young elf hollered. "These moths are gonna eat some iron!"

Lauryl'la cocked a crooked smile at that. The little elf was growing on her every day, and she didn't mind working with him as much as she had thought she would.

His stomach lurched a bit as he saw the pavement below fall farther under the shadow of their battledisc. They were rising higher and higher off the ground and he had a front row seat of the ascent from the windows surrounding his pod. Remembering to be tough, Quen'die's estranged brother closed his eyes for a second and thought about his sister. With all hope, the twain would meet again one day, but between his mother's demands against the idea and their separation from the structure of the shelter's network, a quick rendezvous had proven to be difficult.

Kaedish was on AYP duty at the time of the demonic first strike. As his mother was with Lord Mitlan at the Circle of Finance and his father was in a place unknown to him, the lad was well-insulated within the safety of an official government bunker from the very beginning of the troubles. After some time, he had been reassigned from guard duties to the Air Guard where he had his marksmanship skills put to the test. Baby pudge forgotten due to his days with the AYP, the young elf wondered if these horrible times were not indeed some of the best moments of his life. Feeling the actual chug of the modified miniball-casters was much more rewarding than playing _Martian Patriot_.

Captain Ping held the limmer steady and remembered her crash course in flight training. This was her actual first time in the air as all her formative lessons had been performed in the safety of simulators deep within the Air Guard's bunkers. The truth versus the training was a bit different, but the young sea elf handled the gist of it.

"Black Sun One aloft," she called into the comm in her broken Atlantean. "Prepare to engage on my mark. ETA to mark: one minute."

During the first days of the infernal's attack on the city, Ping had holed up in the spacious and rather lavish basement of the Mitlan estate. It was reinforced and quite accommodating compared to a common household's. The behemoths did not congregate often by the coasts much for reasons unknown, however, flights of demons were rampant in that area as they had attempted to sink boats and ensnare seafaring elves in their wicked nets.

Food had fast become scarce down there and she was not able to leave the sanctuary as she could hear the crashes and bangs of rummaging demons in the abandoned house overhead. By a twist of fate, the former housewarden had found a secret tunnel's entrance behind a life-sized oil portrait of Venn'lith she had decided to destroy in a manic (and bored) rage one lonely evening. How she hated that maiden and her demeaning beatings. Why the tunnel was installed there had been a total mystery to the sea elf, but at that point, she didn't really care.

After three days of scurrying through the subterranean darkness, she had emptied out into the middle of Shelter Nine which serviced the uptown district. By the time she had reached the facility, she was dehydrated and to the point of starvation. Within a few more days, she had been conscripted by the ADF air guard as they needed to train pilots and train them with haste for the counterattack.

She had taken to the controls of the simulators like a duck to the sky and had no problems rising through the ranks almost by the day as she had always made top scores in her training pod. By the seventh of Ninthmoon, she was dubbed a captain, and after the eleventh's first true battle, she would be made a major.

" _Black Sun One, this is Treetop Actual_ ," the comm squawked again as the disc cruised. " _Please be advised you have elements of the 99th Gonduanna Pursuit Squadron inbound on your eight_."

"Copy!" Ping shouted back to her commander over the somewhat soothing woob of the limmer's motors.

"Whoo-hoo!" Lauryl'la cheered with armored glee. "We're gonna fight these creeps with the Crimson Domes!"

Lauryl'la had every reason to rejoice upon hearing that announcement. The Gonduanna 99th Pursuit may very well have been the best of the best when it came to the history of limmerjocks. Nicknamed the Crimson Domes due to the red paint festooned atop their cockpits, this outfit had never lost one single pilot since its inception. No matter if they had fought over the lands of Tel'lemuria or in the skies over Thuless'in, the 99th struck fear into the hearts of their enemy targets. Atlantis was so lucky to have an unshakeable alliance with Gonduanna, and the Crimson Domes proved it.

" _Black Sun Squadron_ ," a heavily-accented voice cut through the comm. " _Captain Kalan'dee of the 99th Pursuit at your support._ "

"Copy, Crimson Dome One," Lauryl'la responded, trying to restrain her joy. "Good to have you with us today."

" _Likewise,_ " he confirmed. " _Prepare to split in a flanking maneuver. Bogies at our twelve. We'll hit them at their three and nine._ "

"Affirmative," the maiden smiled. That day she would fly with giants. Captain Ping was already veering their flying saucer to her right in preparation for the sneaky engagement.

"Kaedish!" Lauryl'la hollered down into the caster's belly again. "Be ready for this and don't choke!"

The young elf rolled his eyes and sneered at the sky from under his feet. "No way! I don't choke!"

Swiveling the bellypod, Kaedish trained the heavy caster's sights on a flight of demons off to Black Sun One's left. His trigger finger had, in all seriousness, an itching sensation run through it and he realized at last why casterslingers throughout history had referred to it in such a way.

As they entered firing range, Kaedish made his dream come true of becoming the scourge of the battlefield. This was a much better experience than he had ever hoped, as he was not focusing his aggression against a brother or sister elf, but an alien force that epitomized pure hate for his kind.

All over the world this kind of union was forming in perfect coordination. Tribes who, under their usual politics, fought at the first sight of each other since ages past had put aside their differences and death grudges and worked together to save themselves and their beloved old enemies. Tel'lemuria supported Thuless'in. Kumari supported Tel'lemuria. Avalon supported the dreaded Xochians. A demon was a demon, and those fiends had proved well enough by that morning that they were no longer allowed on the face of the earth.

"Yeah! C'mon! Get some! Get some!" the lad screeched like a macaque as he pounded the skies with the bellycaster's miniballs. It was like shooting an elephant from a yard away as the foul demons melted into grue with each one of his bursts.

The Crimson Domes were making quick work of the infernals, as expected, and flew off to battle, if one could call it that, the next flight circling through the air. The ease of the operation was more like a turkey shoot to the gold elf commander. Captain Ping was proving to be a great pilot as well, but she was not able to keep up with the living legends of the Gonduannian skies with much ease.

" _Black Sun One_ ," Kalan'dee interrupted the comm flow. " _If the moths throw any of those things at your limmer, just use your boot daggers on them._ "

Lauryl'la knew that he was referring to those little imps that were reported to have led her mother to her death. The maiden hoped that a demon had the faint opportunity to do such a thing, as she wanted nothing more to get up-close and personal with one. With a growl the gold elf captain could barely detect over the flow, Lauryl'la acknowledged, "Just let 'em try! _Please_!"

It was unfortunate for Lauryl'la's black bloodlust; the Crimson Domes and the Black Suns were too much of a match for the flights of demons that day, and not one of the craven vermin were able to get within range to chuck a ball of imps at any of the limmers. As the maiden reflected on the day's battle that evening within her bunker, she figured it was best not to underestimate the power of the infernals, as staving off a node of those gremlins could have proven to be more difficult than imagined.

***

Deep within the dock of Thelemic Ark Morning Star, Mavriel paced back and forth between ranks of iron golems. Just weeks before, that very space had held the beast Choronzon in check. The vessel was Commander Uriel's central base of operations for the Atlantean theater and would remain so until the campaign was finished.

There would be very little time before Second Lieutenant Quen'die Reyliss came bounding like a happy kitten into the bays for her first true battle as an ADF regular. For this, the angel was proud of her as she was indeed chosen to do this and chosen well. It seemed so rushed, however, as he was forced to say his goodbye to her that afternoon and she was none the wiser.

Quen'die was something of a very important person around her new home of the newly-dubbed "Camp Morning Star" that had been appropriated just weeks before by Quen'die and the angelic forces. Considering that she was chosen by Ui Himself, the angels in her attendance watched her like a hawk to ensure her safety. It was tantamount that the maiden be safe and secure for the momentous day of the grand push.

Life was cozy at times, as far as her emotions went, since she was in the company of her friends, her nanna and most of all, Mavriel. When it came to physical rigor, it was a different story. Her deva and Commander Uriel had honed her battle skills every day without a seeming rest as time was wasting for the counterassault. The other elves were not immune to this training either, as all ADF conscripts were sparring and shooting and conditioning in long shifts nonstop; even the elves that had just been liberated from the stinking prisons of the thelemic bladders deep in the ark's innards. Nobody living in that pyramid was idle unless they were at death's door.

Day after day, the maiden had become ever closer to her deva and each time she awoke from her sleep (which was more like an extended nap) it was almost assured that he would be right there within minutes to begin the new day. She could never wait to begin her training as each session was filled with laughter and warmth that made life worth living and the earth a most worthy home. In some ways, things could not be any better, and she never wanted those terrible days to end as long as she could be with Mavriel.

"Mavriel!" she squealed from behind him. Her voice sounded so young and maiden-like despite the grim controller's robes she wore. For her appropriation of the ark, that special uniform had the Royal Heroic Gold Standard pinned to its breast. It was the highest military honor an Atlantean elf could hope to attain. Only the truest heroes of the kingdom had such a medal bequeathed unto them. Without another word, she leapt on his frame and squeezed him like a warm stuffed animal made of stone.

As for the deva, he was adorned in glistening white armor. Quen'die couldn't discern its exact material as it could have been white gold, cured ivory, or a substance altogether alien. On one giant pauldron, the identification _Grigorian: IX_ was embossed with heavenly force. Looking up his chest, she met his toasty eyes. His glow was all the power that she needed to fuel her first golem run. "Tam's almost ready with the boot station. Are we going to do this?"

"Yeah," he intoned with some frailty that the maiden could detect with ease. "Ready to 'do this.'"

Quen'die looked at him astonished. "Don't tell me you're afraid of this battle, Mav! The behemoths are big, but we can tear them to shreds!"

"No, it's not that," he was already hushing his ward with the soft tips of his fingers. "You won't...like this."

Her young joy was gone as shock and worry raised the red wisps of brow on her forehead. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, but after this charge, my duties take me elsewhere," he lowered his face away from hers in a variety of shame that was unfamiliar to him. "I just wanted to tell you before you set off. Just in case."

"Why?" her ears twittered in annoyance as the rest of her squad filed into the dock.

"Colonel Na'rundi informed me earlier that my boss needs me in Kumari after this," he stated stonily. "You remember Indra."

"Yeah, the one with the four wings and red skin. But I thought Ui was your boss," she reminded the deva with confusion.

He smiled a slight split. "Heh, well yes, He is, but Indra is my direct supervisor. He manages all of the devas. It's a personal favor. His father-in-law, Puloman, is an asura and Indra doesn't want to create drama with his wife, so, basically I have to supervise the battle for his ark. When you get married one day, you'll understand this."

Quen'die didn't want to marry any dumb elf. She just wanted Mavriel and him only. Even if they could not have a proper relationship, she still figured that she could see him every day and that would be enough for her. "When will you be back?"

He sucked in the odd air of the ark's dimension. For the first time in his existence, he felt like he actually _needed_ oxygen. "I won't be. This run is our last activity together. My job here is finished."

"Mavriel! No!" Although she was a golem commander and her squadron was close at hand, she could not hold back her instant tears. She gritted her teeth so that her subordinates would not hear her sob.

"Please don't leave me," she tipped her lips up to his ear and whispered. "Help..."

"I'll never be far away. Not really." he hushed back. "I promise you this."

" _Puppet Fire One. Three minutes to action. Please don your halos,_ " Captain Tam'laa Na'rundi's voice reverberated throughout the docks. Quen'die had grown to love her friend, but she cursed her countdown in silence. She needed more time for this cruelty, but could there ever be enough?

Tam'laa Na'rundi enjoyed a rather honeyed time nestled within the reclaimed Morning Star under the command of her father. As she and On'dinn would engage in sorties of supply runs during the daytime when infernal interference was lightest, she and the lad had served as a pair of the many vital citizens who had risked their lives to accrue medicine, food, and materials in order to replenish the needs of the hunkered citizenry of Corosa. The gold elf's ability to lead an insertion and extraction to those most important depots of sundries had awarded her the lofty rank of captain in the ADF at the age of sixteen. A bit of nepotism due to her father's standing couldn't be dismissed either.

The young gold elf became much better friends with Quen'die and Mavriel in that short time while training in the ark. Despite the initial tensions, Tam'laa was able to mitigate the suspicions her friend had toward On'dinn and had at last cleared his name from the blame leading to Quen'die's arrest. On'dinn always admired Tam'laa's diplomatic qualities and her ability to keep her head cool as she could see the big picture without getting herself entangled in so much drama. Quen'die, on the other hand, had developed a temper the color of her hair in that month in the pyramid and her rekindled friendship with the lad remained uneasy at best.

What a horrible occasion and way to say goodbye, the grey maiden lamented to herself. "Mavriel, please show me some kind of a sign after this. I need you so much!"

"I will," he smiled in earnest. Quen'die knew that he would never tell her a lie. At least, she didn't think so. Upon chewing on that supposition, she remembered that he had told her upon their initial meeting that he was from the outback of Avalon.

With wet eyes, she turned toward her golem's sarcophagus, sniffing. "I-I'll trust you on that!"

"Quen'die, I won't leave you alone for this," she felt his hand bless her shoulder. "I will be right over you the whole time."

She turned to meet that touch as she sucked back the fright of losing him as well as the briny sorrow in her throat. She wanted to savor his image right in front of her as she wondered in horror if she would never meet him with such closeness ever again. "Then I won't say 'goodbye.' If you can tell me to my face that you will never really leave me, then I won't say it."

Mavriel's eyes lit and he agreed that she held a righteous philosophy on the matter. Peering into her green gaze, he made the best vow he could in their short time left, "Very well, Quen'die Reyliss, I will never really leave you."

Anger began to turn her back inside out. Order or no order, it was a cheap shot to tell her farewell right before a charge, even if he had established with her before that he wasn't ever going to put a ring on it. There was no time to prepare for the bad news, and it was as simple as that. Which was worse? To know that their time was limited from the beginning or to have such terrible knowledge thrown right in her face like ice water as it was? She growled her unintelligible disdain to Jugger. The battle puppet was bedecked in gold leaf and flowery wreaths. Someone in her squad had painted a crude smiley face on his dead countenance.

"Come on, Fatso, let's roll out!" she knocked on the extramaton's hull as she slapped her halo over her skull. She wasn't sure if she wanted to kick a behemoth's backside or Indra's. Or Mavriel's for that matter.

Iron golems were a rarity worldwide. During preparations for the grand counterassault, underground smithies had to retool the majority of the earth's extramatons. As most were hewn of cured wood or ivory, the smiths had to lace their hulks with the metal in order for them to compete in battle against their infernal aggressors. Jugger was an exception as he was built from iron through and through.

One minute later, a familiar surge to her nervous system ran through her body. " _Good day, Quen'die Reyliss. Ready for work!_ " the halo sang.

" _Two minutes to action! Scouts are away!_ " Tam'laa boomed. Mavriel was gone and airborne as he was leading those cycles along with a host of angelics. He was gone just like a wonderful dream that was rudely interrupted. How Quen'die wished to be flying alongside him. He would be right above her head for the entire battle, but he might as well be on Mars as far as she was concerned.

Quen'die and her squad led their golems out of their greasy coffins in preparation for the charge. Jugger had been summoned to life and trudged his iron weight in unison with his ferrous brothers.

" _Puppet Fire One, align to your positions and prepare to charge,_ " the gold elf's voice resounded through the air. " _One minute to action!_ "

Quen'die was somewhat grateful that she had missed her deva's departure. He was so fast, but she knew that she would lose it if she had seen him disappear into the ark's phony wall. Her maidens couldn't see her in such a state or they would lose all morale for the battle.

"All right, ladies! Let's kick some demonic butt!" Quen'die hollered to her squad with her welled-up anger.

" _So be it_!" the troop responded in a salty chorus. Their normally higher-pitched voices seemed so full and adult at that moment.

" _In three-two-one. Charge!_ " Tam'laa's order shook the chamber.

Puppet Fire One set off like a pack of dire wolves in a race. Quen'die led the box formation of golem handlers while she was just feet behind her iron hulk. Her lungs were as strong as ever, and she wanted to catch glimpses of Mavriel up in the sky as soon as she could.

Straight ahead, the swirling wall of the Morning Star swallowed Jugger. A second later, the extradimensional shade of the ark was replaced by the beautiful blue sky of the earthly battle. Above her head, bursts of black flak and flights of limmers adorned the azure canvas as they raged in battle with flocks of brown demons. Hell was happening over her squad and there was no way for her to discern with any ease her love, who was certain to be amongst the tumult. Denied once again, she moaned in her mind.

The sounds around them were so loud. Screams of exploding demons and howls of limmer motors met the staccato drumming of the heavy casters. Aircaster bursts shook the ground below their feet with every volley, and Quen'die almost fell off her footing as she rounded Seventh Street with her squad in tow.

New sounds of bawling wails were added to the chaos as Puppet Fire One made their way down Grand Avenue. At the end of that drag, three monstrous behemoths battered each of their seven heads against what little was left of the Royal Palace. Towers, buttresses and colonnades were crushed below the beasts' chunky feet. Quen'die figured that the whole palace would need to be not rebuilt, but replaced, in its entirety. Anything above the first arcade of the castle was rubble. If ADF Command had decided to wait one more day to strike, the monsters would have been sure to devour the High King and his mother.

"Ladies!" the maiden barked. "Prepare to engage! Two hundred yards! Private Ma'lott and Private Z'nunim, guard my flanks! Being behemoth chow is gonna suck!"

"Yes, Madame!" her former rivals yelled with military obedience. Both of the inseparable maidens had been stuck together in the lavish underground shelters of the Z'nunim Syndicate, which Isheth's family owned. At first, they were under the impression that they could while away the crisis in luxury until a behemoth had, by accident, thrashed their bunker's climate control facility with its tail. Desperate, the Ma'lotts and Z'nunims had to flee the refuge or risk suffocation. A public shelter in the Docks District was the safest and quickest option that their families had at the time, and the poor young dandies were forced to share the same living quarters as the unruly Zobbos. Situation after harsh situation had developed by the time the spoiled elfmaids were forced into the ranks of the ADF as golem handlers - under their old nemesis's wing. Payback and karma were still preferable to being a behemoth's supper.

Iron fists were raised in defiance to the dread before them. Quen'die took another peek at the air above her and saw a small flight of flitcycles and angels circle the heads of the moaning hellbeasts. They were her squad's scouters, and a warm smile washed over her face as she felt the light of her beloved deva shine for just a split instant in the midday sun. Once again, her guardian angel was keeping her safe and guiding her in her profound responsibilities. Gabriel was right about one thing - the angels were indeed all about fishing poles over fish.

Behemoth mouths tried to swipe at the cycles, but they were much too slow to connect their lunges. Mavriel and the scouts were keeping them well occupied, and none of those monstrosities would ever be the wiser the moment Quen'die's squad of golems was punching away at their lard-laden feet.

"Fifty yards to engagement!" she screamed to her maidens as the reek of behemoth-stink was already hitting their noses. She could see their multicolored feathers and rainbow scales better than she could make out Mavriel and his cyclejocks at that range. Throughout the sky flew a host of cherubim, seraphim, devas and a multitude of angelics from all ranks and choirs to assist the elves' fight. Once the first golem thrust its iron punch into the brunt of the monster's leg, the stench of gallons of demon blood proved to be much worse.
In the Temple of Hate

**L** iberated elves were being led out of Thelemic Ark Lush Water's illusory maw and into the quarantine tents erected by the Kamdenite Defense Force. They smelled of the hells themselves as all of them had been submerged in the disgusting thelema while suspended in a state of stupor for the bulk of a month. After just two weeks of campaigning, Commander Ramiel had freed the Kamden subcontinent according to Gabriel's plan. The small kingdom of Ninn'wey was the last to fall to the mortal forces.

Air Lord Pazuzu was strapped to a rusty iron pole as the angry high elves had dragged him out of the Lush Water by their bare hands. This stock of elf was not as sympathetic or genteel as an Atlantean grey. Throughout their history, if harm had ever been done to their communities, a Muf'raad, or death grudge, would be sure to ensue. It was safe to say that Pazuzu had qualified for such a fate.

Defense Elder Ar'myn Kharsis walked up with regal pride to the secured demon as he gripped a wicked iron spear in his hand. His light-blue robes and turban swirled around his form in the high winds of the fertile valley. Pulling back the wrap from over his mouth, the elder made sure to stare the demon in the face. It was a matter of honor.

"You have tricked my people and destroyed the integrity of Kamden! This is a shame we shall not forget, infidel! There shall be no mercy shown as you have had Muf'raad called upon your head!"

A thrall of high elves screamed in joy at their leader's bold statement. A chorus of high-pitched ululating erupted from the females. "Creator be praised! Death to the demon infidel!"

On the other side of the pole, the hell-lord's wife, if one could call her that, Lamashtu, was weeping at her defeat. "Make them stop, Paz! It's so loud! Cut them a deal, you fool!"

"Aw, shut up, you foul hag!" the bony infernal belted back from behind her. They were surrounded from all sides as those robes, veils and turbans could not hide the rage of those proud people. "These freaks are insane!"

Ramiel met Kharsis' side. Raising a gentle, pearly palm, he managed the unthinkable as the gesture quieted the hell-demon's fury. "Air Lord Pazuzu. You are to face judgment, not from the Creator, as that time has already passed. This is a mortal judgment. I think you know well the sentence."

Pazuzu growled at the angel in defiance. No elf could manage the horrible noise with mortal vocal chords. It was almost as if a cohort of voices were sounding it in unison. "Let me go, Ramiel! These swine are MINE!"

Ignoring his complaint, the angel nodded to Elder Kharsis an affirmative. As Pazuzu and his wife screamed their hellish howls, the Kamdenite top brass spit in his face and skewered the couple with one thrust of the spear.

Angry glee of the Ninn'weyvian people trumped the rank hellstink from the demonic remains which were dripping down the shaft of the weapon at a sluggish snail's pace. Once again, the whoops and cheers of the town flooded the sunny sky. Kamden had been certified cleansed of infernals, or so thought the general populace.

***

Nearby in a temple to She'vashh, Cadreth and Sammian hid in a dark vestibule. Both were wearing the garb of the locals and their wings discorporated. For a month, the pair had not only been on the lam from the enraged elves who hated any and all of their kind, but also from the wrath of Lucifer.

Both were well aware that the boss was after them. Sammian knew that his mortal possession roamed somewhere in Atlantis, but Cadreth was none the wiser as he fled from that kingdom without a coherent plan. By the force of pure fate, the two had managed to meet in the air high above the southern Thuless'in kingdom of Bol'gaa.

"Their cheers are too much!" Sammian moaned. "I think we're the only ones of our kind left here! Cadreth! What do we do?"

The incubus thought for a moment. The gears in his head assessed the situation and he wondered how long their charade could last. "Look, if the infernals are gone from these lands, then we might be able to make a go of it here. All we need to do is continue to 'go native' and forget we even have wings. Nobody would be able to out us since the elves can't detect our true nature. They only know what they see with their eyes."

"How do you suppose that's going to work?" Sammian challenged.

"We could say we're foreigners!" he exclaimed in the darkness. "I look kind of Atlantean and you could pass for... maybe Xochian. Maybe even high elf. Just fake an appropriate accent and that should satisfy the locals."

The peri winced at that. "Eww...seems kind of a thin plan, Cadreth. Maybe I should turn myself in to Michael and face judgment."

He shrugged his shoulders. "That's an option, but your crime is, well, very terrible. He's going to damn you for sure. Once that happens, you're a full-fledged demon and Lucifer is going to have fun with you, I can tell you that much."

"No need to blaspheme, Cadreth," she chided. "We are not to know the intentions of our Creator until the gavel has fallen."

Cadreth formed a cocky grin. "Hey, blasphemy is one of my specialties! You really are new at this, huh?"

Sammian stared off into the gloom around them with heavy despondence and regret. With his low-light vision, Cadreth could see the glints of tears on her face. "Yes, I unfortunately am."

For weeks, the pair had flown over areas of the earth that were thin of demons and elves alike. Anywhere that raged a battle was forbidden as they were sure to be cut down from the skies by limmer or flak. Before the elves had made their counterattacks, Lucifer's forces were still on the lookout for them, even though the capturing of the mortals was their prime directive.

As far as Cadreth saw it, his situation was only temporary, but he could not get the mother of his child out of his mind. Even before the news of her pregnancy, he, at last, found the love he had been searching for through eons of flesh. Under normal circumstances, there would be no way he could control his desires while sequestered in exile with Sammian, but Venn'lith's face overrode such impulses. He was a demon in love and that mortal maiden would be his final decision.

Sammian too felt the pang of love in her heart for Lucifer. Unlike Cadreth, the object of her affection hated her and she couldn't cope with such knowledge. The glow of her Father's love was now dark, so she suspected. What horrible things she had done for that fiend, Lucifer. Mutilating those elves on Mars, stealing the arks and cursing the angels with amnesia were all her doings. Perhaps the Creator could forgive, but she could not forgive herself.

The pair jumped at the sound of a smashed pot. It cut through the silence of the deserted temple and they both clutched each other by fear and reflex.

"Okay, what was that?" Cadreth chirped.

"Shh!" Sammian hushed. "It might be the elves! They probably want to celebrate their revenge at this temple! Why in the Nine did we choose a revenge god's house to hole up in during a victory? We're so stupid."

Cadreth listened with intent for what seemed like minutes. The silence continued as did the darkness. "No, there is no rush of people. If it were elves, the place would be a bright madhouse by now."

"I can't take it anymore," the peri clutched at her curls. "I'm going to snoop around and see what's up."

The incubus shook his head. "Don't let me stop you. I'll be right here. You know; lookout and stuff."

Groaning, the fallen angel thrust out her tongue behind his back and crossed her eyes in annoyance. "Whatever, Cadreth."

Darkness enveloped the main chamber. It looked as though the behemoth in the area had not bothered with this particular temple as everything seemed well in place and unmolested. Her low vision washed the shadows and corners of the room, but no life was detected. Perhaps their minds and guilt were playing tricks on them, but that crash was pretty much unmistakable.

Seconds later, the peri noticed a small form rush across the limestone floor from out of the corner of her eyes. Whatever it was had waddled away with wobbly haste from her.

With amazing agility, she jumped atop an immense statue of the anger god and scanned the area. Once again, she found the thing. It was small with four legs. As it looked up at her, it greeted her presence with a mewling "meow." Within seconds, it vanished back into the shadows of the temple.

Sammian slapped her face in embarrassment. "It's just a stupid cat," she lamented aloud. "I can't believe I got spooked from a cat."

"Aw, Sammian," an unfamiliar voice answered her self-talk from a place unknown. "Cats aren't stupid! They're my friends!"

So it appeared, thought the peri as the cat began to purr ever louder at that statement from the darkness. The voice was female and it wasn't Cadreth imitating one for some stupid joke. Neither did the voice carry a Kamdenite accent. Whoever was hidden within those shadows was not an elf.

"Who's there!" Sammian called out while trying to whisper. The hiss echoed throughout the empty temple.

"Me, Sammian," it responded back. The fallen erelim still could not detect the direction of its source.

"Stop playing around," she cried like a young maiden. "Who's me! Show yourself!"

"I'm an agent here to collect on a debt you owe," the darkness answered. "Oh, and you have piled that debt on heavily, yes?"

She connected dots in her head with speed and haste. Debt plus cats plus collection equaled...

Bastet. Lucifer sicced his pet erinyes on her, and somehow, she tracked them both to this far-off corner of the world. It had to be her.

"I know you, Bastet!" Sammian hollered from the statue with as much bravery as she could cull. "Show yourself now!"

A maiden's chuckle pierced the dark temple. "Oh, Sammian, why would I want to do that? All good kitties play with their food!"

Jumping off her perch, the peri spun around to divulge the erinyes' position. Such undertaking proved fruitless as the initiative was not hers. Giving the room another spin, she turned about-face to see the beautiful assassin dead-set in front of her.

Sammian jumped back as far as her reflexes would allow. The cat-fiend was renowned for her lightning-quick moves and Sammian didn't want to be within their range. "Get away from me, demon!"

Bastet sauntered with a slow gait, like the cats that loved her, in formal challenge. She refused to take a step back. The fallen peri noted how wonderful she looked as her hair and makeup was geometrically flawless and how she smelled of fresh catnip.

"Don't take it personally, maiden," she cooed. "I am just performing my sworn duty. It is time for your demise, peri."

There would be no more running, she thought. It was time to stand her ground and take on the assassin. As an erelim, Sammian could have licked her in seconds back Home. "Bring it on, fiend! I can take it!"

Raising up her right hand to strike down on the cat-demon, Sammian unfurled her wings by reflex. Her defensive display did nothing to deter Bastet as the creep continued closer with unbroken swagger.

"This is your last chance!" she warned the feline demoness.

Sammian failed to notice the tiny needles that were Bastet's fingernails. Long and golden, they were dripping with an alchemy from hell. With an almost effortless swipe, the demon scratched the fallen erelim's sternum with the sharps. Their connection was so light that Bastet's target thought she had missed.

Not knowing if they had hit her in that gloom, Sammian let out a confused grunt. Still in her attack position, the peri tried to bring down her claw to her assailant with a mighty counter. To her surprise, her amazing muscles would not respond to her impulses. The look of horror etched across her face would not relax either and, within seconds, she felt the strains of pain running through her body. It felt like rigor mortis.

"Now you stay put, sweetie," Bastet giggled. Her countenance of fear creaked to pure terror as Sammian realized that the erinyes had indeed paralyzed her into that solid contortion. "I'll come back for you in a few...eons."

Bastet's plan wasn't quite accurate as Sammian was awoken by complete accident only a mere two hundred thousand years later by an Iraqi oil-drilling company. Being extremely bewildered and grouchy due to her suspended state for that horrid amount of time, her behavior was atrocious and many people were killed in her wake before she was banished by a pair of Catholic priests and brought before the grand Archangel. That, however, was an altogether different story.

It was a befitting fate, mused Bastet, as the erelim couldn't really die, but perpetuating her state of Limbo would make the boss as happy as possible. As an erinyes, she just couldn't be bothered with the formal rigmarole of judgment and forums and all of that, nor would Lucifer care for the lengthy process in this case. The dark master would be pleased to know that Paradise had to contend with the mystery of losing one of its most wanted offenders, and that would have to suit him just fine.

Stock-still in huddled fright, Cadreth continued to peer from the shadows at the assassin's grotesque operation. Sammian's toasty flesh was dulling into a rocky tope in mere seconds. Bastet had turned her to stone. There would be absolutely no way he would allow the cat-fiend to do that to him, and he vowed to himself that he would die in proper battle if she found him.

Bastet was gloating at the husk like the cats she lorded over after a good kill. She stood tall with her demonic wings proud and displayed with evil glory; if such a beast had any glory. Her admiration of her work would prove to be her earthly downfall.

After minutes of the incubus holding his breath and thinking of good thoughts (Venn'lith), a ray of light broke the tenebrae of the temple. A boom of gaiety announced the arrival of the elven celebration as a righteous revenge had been made that day. Like a cat caught in the proverbial cookie jar, Bastet jumped up to an unearthly height. She was trapped red- handed as worshippers flooded the round temple from all sides.

Elder Kharsis's deep, dark eyes lit white with shock upon seeing the moth-winged demon in the holy place of She'vashh. "A straggler! Surround it! Don't let it get away!"

Cadreth felt a bit sick for his would-be killer as the elves seemed to be enjoying the standoff. It was sure to be an unfair fight, he figured, but then again, Bastet never fought fair. Blue, black, shimmering white and tan robes closed in on the infernal.

"Destroy the infidel!" the throng shouted with great happiness. Whoops and laughter at her plight were predicting their easy victory as angry iron spears poked at her airspace. They toyed with her just as she had toyed with her prey numerous times throughout the ages.

The look on her face was pathetic and a bit heartbreaking to anyone who could show a drop of mercy. None of the people of Ninn'wey could, however.

Darting her head in every possible direction for an escape, Bastet began to mewl like a stranded kitten that was floating down a stream in a bucket. The glare of terror set within her eyes was unmistakable. Although she would only be banished to the Hells once the iron points had pierced her flesh, a stabbing was a stabbing and it would hurt with mortal agony.

No less than twenty jabs of ferrous fury breached her golden skin on the first strike. Another volley of pointed pain tore through her melting form a mere second afterward. The screams, wails, and guffaws of the attacking elves blotted out her death-rattling moan as she discorporated into a puddle of muck.

This was a foul place to hide, Cadreth lamented. Not only in a temple of revenge, but this particular province showed no quarter when it came to battle. The incubus supposed that even brother and sister elves trembled in fear throughout history when they had learned that their kingdom was up against Kamden. Two concepts dominated his demonic brain: escape Kamden and find the warmth of Venn'lith Mitlan.

Their feast of praise lasted hours, perhaps an entire day. The demon placed himself into a trance to blot out the clamor of the revelry as he hid up in the roof of the vestibule like a sleeping bat. When the noises of their roiling, droning music had ceased, Cadreth peeked out into the temple to find the floor still full, but populated with the slumbering souls of those who had consumed too much wine.

Some comedic reveler had adorned Sammian's stony form with a mockery of laurels around her head and a wreath of figs and garlic around her neck. Scrawled in a drunken hand, a crude sign affixed to her forehead read the epitaph: " _Capital New Statue_." Cadreth felt ill seeing her in such a sad state, but he had more pressing matters to attend to and charity had never been one of his virtues anyway.

As the incubus flew over the fertile lands of that Middle-Eastern kingdom, he was grateful that Ramiel did not partake in Elder Kharsis' celebration or he would have been discovered and slain for sure. Praising his luck in relieved silence, he set forth upon his next mission to find his love and their child. Any and all of the dark clouds of the battle from that day had drifted away eastward overnight leaving thick, blue sky around him and peace under his evil wings.
Destroy Us or Make Us Slaves

**A** ll over the world, the battle for elfdom raged. It was a nonstop campaign, and the elves never slept. Night and day, sorties were launched and missions set against the infernals had pushed the demonic forces up against a strategic wall.

It was almost as if the demons were, as Quay'liss Dalian had accused, stupid. There was an old elven saying: "If at first you don't succeed; try it again." The infernals took this far too much to heart, so it seemed, as they had failed to ever change their tactics. No ruses, no feints, not even a change in strategy did they employ. It was apparent the demons could not learn from their engagements and the elven commanders couldn't believe how easy the fights were. After a time, it was decided, they would lose their evil commanders to battle and be left to their own chaotic devices, but even without their repetitive orders, the demons had never tried anything different against their mortal attackers.

Two weeks after the first counterattack, the kingdoms of Mu and Avalon were demon-free. Atlantis was enjoying her final battle with the infernals in Caidhul, while the freed nations of Kamden and Kumari had been pushing into Tel'lemuria to link up with Commander Blue Tara. Xo'chi and Gonduanna would have almost another week of war in their theaters, but as they were provinces of dense population, that would prove to take some time.

A mere three weeks after the first assault against the infernals, Commander Gabriel's forces had liberated almost the entirety of Thuless'in. The final hurdle to leap lay on the edge of the Vrillian Wastes in the frigid city of Dim'borgir.

Under normal circumstances, the wasteland's burg was nothing much to see or, as the more cosmopolitan elf was concerned, to care for. It was a cold, harsh place that was home to a proud and tightly-knit people. If someone had come by from "out there," such a stranger was met with a warm welcome as very few elves had ever bothered to venture to that borderland. All foreigners were met with a pleasant surprise from the locals of hospitality and the red-carpet treatment.

Dim'borgir was, for the most part, a mammoth- and reindeer-herding community. The nearby volcanic fields supplied the populace with an exotic thermal salt that was a prized ingredient in beauty products for elves the world over. As a result, it was usual for a Dim'borgirin to have a complexion that was so healthy and clear that some elves had sworn those people almost glowed ( _How would YOU like Dim'borgir-smooth skin?_ ). It was no wonder that this unique trade good had rendered many citizens of that city rather wealthy.

Jussi Ter'dienne subcommanded that leg of the campaign and kept close under Commander Gabriel's wing. He was a young general from the boggy lowlands of the province of Nieder'borg to the south. Most of the Thuless'in brasses were battle hardened and almost bloodthirsty, especially Defense Elder Diggi Tor'digg. Gabriel was not fond of working with that particular frost elf hardcase, but he was a competent strategist nonetheless. Jussi was much different in that he was a genteel, almost timid sort, but the angel attributed his attitude to his youth. During peacetime, Jussi ran a tulip farm and oil painted in his spare time. The only thing that bothered Gabriel was the general's obsession with the blood maiden May'digg Vin'senys. Young love was young love, but Jussi was praying for her safety and ogling at her from his laandbaarg's command deck to the point of compulsion, and his cavalier attention to the tasks at hand could prove to be problematic.

Aboard Jussi's massive battlesled, the mortar artillerists were celebrating the defeat of Dim'borgir's lone behemoth. Immense iron orbs pounded into the rainbow hide of the beast without effort and left nothing but inky sludge on the ice.

"General! We got the big one! Whoo-hoo!" the master caster bellowed from the lower deck of the iceboat.

Jussi just let out a small smile. "Uh, great. Keep it up, lads."

His enthusiasm was drawn only from a third of his heart while the greater fraction was focused on his love who was leading the victory cheer with her flock of blood maidens atop the forecastle of their 'baarg. Despite the freezing temperatures, the maidens seemed not bothered by the fact that they were only wearing a wreath of wildflowers and a gown of wolf's blood. Frost elves were renowned for their tolerance to the cold, even the extreme Vrillian variety.

The general's fugue of infatuation was broken as Gabriel landed on the roof of his covered conning tower. The thud of the angel's feet was gentle and firm at the same time. What an annoying interruption, he thought, as drinking in May'digg's dance for justice was a sight that could always make his heart bleed while he watched her bloodied hair sway like rusted platinum.

Time to play soldier, Jussi lamented as Gabriel entered his hutch. "Good day, Commander."

"An excellent victory, General," the angel complimented. "Now we push forth to free the city and take back the ark."

"Certainly, Commander," the young elf tried to forefend the desire to roll his eyes. All he wanted at that moment was the warmth of his May'digg and maybe some wine.

Grabbing the comm, the general called to the wheelhouse with a lazy groan. "Plot a course for the city. Have the master caster analyze a target profile and build up a firing solution. Ready the coordinates against their ground forces and do not hit the ark. I repeat - _do not_ hit the ark."

A train of ivory-armored mammoths steered the laandbaarg; their tusks dripping with iron casings as per the general's orders. The pilot's paddle team mushed the frightened beasts toward the hive of the infernals with brutal growls. The massive vehicle slid on its keen foils across the icy terrain while the slicing hiss from below was relentless. Ivory skids slashed Vrillian ice at a terrifying speed.

Ahead of the Thuless'in formation, the Thelemic Ark Royal Duck stood like a valiant mountain of hate behind the small northern city. Unlike Corosa City, this ark dwarfed the tiny community's skyline (save the obelisk-spire of their gigantic central manaspring) and its pyramidal shape was quite forbidding in comparison.

Royal Duck: what a stupid name for a vessel, thought Jussi. During his campaign, he had been pitted against demonically-possessed arks with all varieties of odd names, but "Royal Duck" took the cake. "Blue Rainbow," back home in Nieder'borg, was another strange one. How could a rainbow just have one color, he wondered? It was quite obvious the infernals had a warped marketing department and he wondered if they were in the habit of indulging in some sort of alien narcotics.

***

Deep inside the capstone of Royal Duck, Commander Mammon was pacing back and forth, not out of nerves, but out of an annoyance of his own. What a dreadful assignment in the first place, he moaned to himself, but to lose a battle was downright disgusting.

"I am a devil!" he announced in a calm purr to the nervous demons surrounding him at their alien consoles. "Not an entitled goetic, not some worthless thrall like the lot of you, but a full-fledged DEVIL!"

Said thrall stiffened in fear at his surprise explosion and continued to look busy before their interfaces. With a beefy fist he smashed a bone vial next to his command throne into powder. All morning long, ever since the Thuless'in forces had arrived, he had been screeching and boasting of his pedigree and accolades.

"I'm not even supposed to be here!" he grabbed at his golden, slick hair. Bald, blotted patches were forming with each tug and he had been at that violent habit for hours.

"I'm certainly not supposed to lose, but just look! We just lost our behemoth to...to _mortals!_ " His scream seemed to shake the monumental structure from its bass tones alone. "How dare you idiots allow this to happen? _ANSWER_ me!"

On one of the viewscreens, flights of elven combat limmers were inbound to engage with the demons. Mammon screamed again, but this bellow was high-pitched, like a child. "Look, fools! FLANK THEM-UH! Try something NEW for once! LEARN from all the mistakes your lowly kind LOVE to make!"

With a gnarled finger, capped with a golden spine, he thrust at the glowing blue triangles which represented the enemy. Dystemperus, the fallen cherub helming that console was petrified by Mammon's grim proximity.

"See those little blue shapes?" he hissed into the demon's pointed ear. "Those are the BAD guys! Direct our GOOD guys to hit them from the LEFT and RIGHT sides! Then, sabotage their stupid flying saucers with imps and you plebeians will be golden! Got it?"

"Yes, Commander Mammon!" Dystemperus barked with dutiful terror.

"GOOD! _Hail Satan!_ " He smacked the chubby infernal about the side of his curly head. The little fiend's eyes cocked for a second from the swift force of the blow.

"Remind me NEVER to play chess with Lucifer ever, EVER again!" he belted to no one in particular. Lucifer had punished his fellow devil for cheating against him during a game of imp chess. His sentence was to oversee the backwater Vrillian city. Mammon had refuted such accusations, but with him being the greed lord, Lucifer knew he was lying. Mammon also knew he himself did indeed cheat at that, but gold made him crazy; as did food and flesh and any other kind of material acquisition. When he saw a solid angle against his opponent, he couldn't resist but to snatch it.

Tears of frustration welled in his golden eyes as he saw every glint of the red dots on the screens, which depicted his flights, disappear one by one against the elven limmers. His jaws were locked in an unbreakable gnash and his subordinates could feel the imminent explosion of rage about to re-erupt.

"Aw...we're LOSING!" the devil shouted to the pointed roof of the capstone chamber. "By the Adversary, what is WRONG with you!"

Red was the only color he saw at that moment and he directed his crimson gloat at the back of Dystemperus' head. What a bobbling fool, he growled deep in his mind as he saw the demon's puffy hair wobble in the gloom of the chamber.

It was a perfect target, and an apt source of his rage. Somehow, or in some way, Dystemperus was culpable for their assured defeat. Ever closer, the blue symbols drew toward the Royal Duck and Mammon became even angrier.

When the greed lord clutched his pudgy neck from behind, Dystemperus didn't know what had hit him. Every one of his systems had failed as his earthly form was being snuffed out from under Mammon's incredible strength. Within seconds, the plush console chair was no longer occupied by a demon, but abysmal grue that stank of the Hells.

Around him, the attendant demons gasped in shock from the devil's harsh actions. Fearing for their earthly existences, they stifled their terror in perfect unison and returned their attentions to their screens. Mammon rushed his massive frame to his control pedestal and paced again.

"This is a defeat I cannot bear," he moaned, almost as if he had resigned himself to his fate. "Ark by ark, nation by nation, we have been losing these battles, and it's quite apparent that this whole campaign is also lost."

He raised a mighty, pointed claw. "I am better than that! I will not allow this ark to be breached and I will not allow our captives to be liberated! Lucifer will not have their souls, this is true, but neither will these foul mortals!"

Every demon in that capstone ceased their duties upon his declaration. In collected attention, they turned toward his showboating. His silence was only trumped by the glinting music of the consoles.

"We are all going to be destroyed either way this very day," he paused with a dramatic pose. "Unlike the rest of you demons who fight almost as if on autopilot until there are none of you left, we are going to try something different.

"If Lucifer cannot have these elves body and soul, no one can," the devil smirked with fatal anger. "What I'm describing is a dire tactic that involves us all!"

Gleaning the numbers of another console, he saw that his ark had appropriated the bodies of almost one million elves from the region. Deep down in the ark's belly, they were suspended; comatose in thelemic bladders. Immersed in that filthy, black goop until Mammon would deliver them to the Nine.

"Seeing how we have a fair amount of the mortal beasts, I would safely say that their loss would be quite profound if we..."

Wide-eyed, his crew had begun to gape their mouths at the plan they knew was about to come from out of his lips. Again, for the hundredth time that day, the tension was assaulting their senses. How they all hated Mammon.

"...blew up the ark." His self-pleased chuckle was insane, even to an infernal.

"I want it all!" he gloated. "I win all or I lose all. The former is obviously impossible with your inept lot, so, today we do the latter. You stupid blobs of snot."

Cries from demonic maws surrounded the devil. He relished, without shame, their woe as he figured they had deserved it for their inability to adapt. Lucifer would be faced with the mixed emotions of loss and smug defeat from a scorched-earth victory. At least no one would win this battle as far as the mortals were concerned.

"It won't even hurt...much," he chortled. "Let's be true infernals here and make a power move! Say goodbye to your flesh as you will be back home again in an instant. Back home in the Hells where you all belong!"

"Infecta!" the devil barked at the demoness helming a bristling logistics console. Her doe eyes were tearing without restraint or control. She didn't know if it was worse to be destroyed or to be the focus of the greed lord's deadly attention.

"Yes, Commander!" she chirped through a sob.

"Overload the Thelemic motor,'" the smile on his face was final and maniacal. "We should have sucked enough of a surplus of their mana by now to do that. Or are you incompetent too?"

"On your command," she choked an affirmative to the suicidal order.

He couldn't contain his wheezing laughter as his six dusky, crimson wings fluttered. "Group hug, you idiots!"

***

Overcast skies shrouding the wastes seemed to collect deeper grey clouds underneath, as if they were mourning the tragedy about to take place that afternoon. Unwary elves were celebrating their easy victories against every one of their enemies' efforts. As more darkness gathered over their heads, those cheers would become cries and their voices fewer.

Jussi's laandbaarg rushed to take on the looming monument for a final assault. Soon, he imagined that he would be able to go back home to Nieder'borg a hero with his beloved May'digg and get some well-deserved rest. Perhaps she would deign to make a more permanent commitment to him, he pondered as he watched her lead the gore-soaked cheering.

The elven general failed to hear Gabriel's hasty warning to halt the attack as he was deep in a happy daydream of tomorrow. May'digg punched at the uncaring clouds in valiant celebration while her sanguine subordinates followed her every move in an angry ballet. She was so bright and full of life. Her brightness grew to blinding pain as the Royal Duck consumed her in fire. The blaze chewed her fellow maidens and then the lower deck before General Ter'dienne realized that the light wasn't his swirling angel, but a hellish detonation. At 3:14 p.m., the hopeful elf never knew the fireball that hit him.

Thelemic Ark Royal Duck was charred to sooty ash. There was nothing left of the structure as Lord Mammon's dreadful order immolated it and all the captured elves as well. Nothing was left but a grim, obsidian stone nestled in a bed of blackened ice.

The city of Dim'borgir was all but destroyed and not one building, tavern, circle, or statue remained intact. The Royal Duck blew the city not to sticks or rubble, but dust. Of the two thousand elves laying siege to Mammon's redoubt, only twenty-seven remained alive under the gilded, weeping wings of their angelic commander and his fluttering, heavenly cohorts. It was the only battle that elfdom had truly lost during that whole counterattack.

***

In an abandoned ruin of the Sea and Shell Trading Company, Minn'dre Harvatt's body cried in frustrated sorrow as the devil in her was crushed. Never before had his anger almost split his possession at the seams. The elfmaid's eyes were not dripping tears, but her blood. The dark lord's only company was a cherrywood sculpture of a giant squid that hung from what was left of the ceiling. How such a feeble construction managed to stand unmolested in a war zone would have baffled any mortal investigator, but Lucifer could have cared less.

"WHY!" he screamed at it as if it could answer him in some strange colorspeech. "I had ALL my eggs in the basket, but my forces are FOOLS!"

Her bloodied eyes were wild and mad. She looked around for her exit and it came to her in the form of some costume rope which the establishment had used to accentuate their nautical theme. Cinching it, he figured that it would hold her emaciated frame.

"I want out of this slag's body! I want to go home!" she slumped to her knees as the sobs heaved her entire form. Minn'dre's body cried, as did Lucifer's black soul.

Tying the noose was easy, and Lucifer took the time to curse every one of his cohorts who were either foul swindlers or just plain stupid. Hell was going to get a lot darker when he came back home, he gnashed her teeth until her incisors chipped.

A perfect loop was awaiting the unwary maiden's neck. Lucifer slung the thirsty hemp over the faux tentacles of the giant mollusk for the final swing.

"ARE YOU LAUGHING NOW, UI?" his bellow shook the quiet ruins. The squid failed to react to the outburst and continued to gloat in its simple joy at the elfmaid with its dead, glass eyes. "Here! Have another...eh?"

A new scent never to hit his senses on the earth did so from the northeast. Far away, deep in an icy nowhere, it sung to Minn'dre's nose. It was the smell of raw power and Lucifer took another look at his fibrous escape vehicle and began to laugh. Perhaps Mammon wasn't all that useless, he considered. Debt paid in full.

"Black mana, Ui," he purred a challenge under her breath. The punishment to his failure of a throng would have to wait for a while. "YOU SHUT UP!"

"I'm still in business **...** "
We'll Cruise at Hyperspeed

**T** he world over celebrated their shared victories against the infernals. Such festivities were short and almost functional as reconstruction needed to get underway as soon as the communities of the earth could muster the effort. At these makeshift ceremonies, pomp and circumstance were not the order of that day. After the cheers had died down and the working days had again begun, some provinces had excelled at rebuilding while others languished and never quite got back to normal; almost like a champion runner who broke his or her leg at some point and could no longer go the distance.

Corosa City had sustained such grievous damage. The behemoths had made a mess of the place and the collateral destruction of the counterassault only added to the debris. As expected, the Royal Palace needed a new structure, but her mighty foundation remained intact. On the fifth of Tenthmoon, elfdom, from then on, would celebrate E-Day, or Eviction Day; the day when the last infernal was cast off the face of the planet as well as the mortals' very dimension.

The angelics left with the pyramids by the same speed in which they had arrived. Once every one of the arks (save the Royal Duck) was cleansed of infernals and their captives freed, the hulks had disappeared from the horizon in silence and without ceremony. Some of the arks had discorporated in haste with their commanders even whilst demonic stragglers still fluttered the skies of the earth. Mavriel was amongst those who left, Quen'die guessed, and he spirited away with no parting message after he had thwarted Puloman in Kumari. He was gone without any notice, and it was as simple as that. That dry fact hung over Quen'die like the black expanse of space rushing above her head.

As for Quen'die Reyliss, all of her charges regarding the docks' bombing and her prison escape had been dropped. Seeing as they had been crimes against the enemy, she was exonerated in full; they had never happened. Much to her misfortune, her worldwide-broadcast beating of Venn'lith Mitlan after the fact had not been ignored as that was considered an elf-on-elf crime. Her punishment - one year of assisted labor on Mars.

Quen'die lounged on the reclined seating of the _Bonn'fyr One_ godswheel. Above her, the cured-glass roof was on transparent mode and she was treated to a criminally-wonderful stellar lightshow. As the _Bonn'fyr_ sped toward Martian orbit, the heavens streaked past over her eyes and she tried to drown out all thoughts in her mind as the scene soaked in her brain. All thoughts but one - Mavriel.

With every spark, twinkle or glint in the heavens above, she squeezed her retinas in hopes that they held his winged form. He had to be out there somewhere, she pined. In the back of her mind, she knew such hopes were impossible and that his body, to her sorrow, was not the light of any of those stars. He flew amongst the heavens of an altogether different dimension, but in some ways, she loved to torture herself.

"Good evening, passengers, this is your captain," the Kumarian voice sang through the obelisk-shaped fuselage. "I trust that your recorporation from attunement was a pleasant experience. If you will look now off to your right, you will see the surface of Mars, and if you look over to your left, you will be treated by his little sisters Phobos and Deimos. Depending on your seating, you may even get a peek at tiny Catharsis. Don't worry folks, I am an accomplished pilot and I promise you that I won't crash into any of them."

The maiden rolled her eyes at the pilot's droll humor. Her father, on the other hand, widened his pair to the size of saucers. "I certainly hope he doesn't crash!"

Ferd'inn Reyliss was not enjoying the flight. Just in case, he had devoured two sleeves of peanuts before attenuation back at the godsrail. His daughter could see that he was perspiring from his nerves despite the rather cool temperatures of the ship's climate control. The vehicle was of a posh design and he looked out of place as he hunkered within the lavish cabin.

During his days in the great battle, Quen'die's father had been, after some time, relocated from the relatively cushy environment of the Morning Star to a dingy, downtown underground shelter and drafted into the canine division of the ADF. It had been all due to some logistical command error made not long after the captive elves of that ark were released, but it tore him from his friends and family nonetheless. He didn't mind tending to the wolfhounds and his duties were rather easy on his volatile nerves. At night, however, was when the tensions were at their highest. That was when the demons were most apt to try to infiltrate the bunkers and shelters. Whenever the clock had struck 6:00 p.m., Lord Reyliss would feel his heart sink. He was never certain what night would be the night when his hounds would howl and quiver at the intrusion of a flock of fiends. As his luck would have it, his unit only had detected an attempted breach once during his duties. He never even saw the ADF forces drive the interlopers off as he and his four-legged friends were huddling (and whimpering) in the back of the shelter.

What really took a toll on the lord's nerves was his fearing for his family; estranged and otherwise. He knew very well that his wife and son were bunkered in the lap of luxury, but Quen'die was another story. Those angelics demanded so much of her and he wondered if she were up to their lofty expectations. It was so soothing to his system to be reunited with her after Eviction Day.

"Father!" she exclaimed as she pointed to the northern Martian hemisphere below. "Look way down at the surface! Doesn't Cydonia kind of look like a big face if you squint your eyes just right? C'mon! Take a peek!"

Lord Reyliss clutched his stomach at that. "Oh, please, Quen'die, don't make me look down. My nerves can't take it! You know I hate heights!"

"Okay, I'll knock it off," she relented as she bounced in her seat in mischievous play.

He let out a gust of relief. "Thanks. I just wish the captain would turn the walls back on."

"Father, did you say that Tam is going to be there already?" she tore her eyes from the galactic panorama above her.

"This is true," Ferd'inn intoned. "She and her father will be there. They landed with the advance crew. I thank the gods that Banda convinced Lord Mitlan to let me back on the project. There was no way I was going to sit around a gutted youth hostel and stew for the rest of my life."

Colonel Na'rundi had gone through his official military channels to lobby for his old friend. Centeo, of course, was hesitant to give Ferd'inn his former job back, but after some prodding by the top brass of the ADF, the magnate had conceded to the elder gold elf's wishes. Since Ferd'inn's daughter had been dubbed a war hero twice over, old Lord Mitlan would have received a healthy dose of public backlash had he not shown a little heart; even if it was true that he had never had much of one. Besides, the mogul supposed, it was a tactic that would prove to keep Ferd'inn separated from his wife.

Quen'die's father was, to be honest, eager to leave Earth. He wanted a fresh start and the opportunity to be away from Glynna for a while. Even after the victories of E-Day, she remained unwavering with her feelings regarding her estranged family and Ferd'inn just wanted to give earthly society a break. The only time he would have to be reminded of her existence over the course of the next year would be on a viewscreen and, with the brightest of hopes, someone else would pick up those transmissions.

Banda and Tam'laa were to supervise Quen'die at the Cydonia site, and the familiarity of good friends would help both Ferd'inn and his daughter with their adjustment to such an alien place. Everything on Mars was different. Oxygen, gravity, temperature and flora and fauna were not of their world. As far as civilization went, one only had the home base and Olympus Mons traffic control to visit. Not much for an elf to do other than work and wait.

Tam'laa was to personally oversee Quen'die on her assisted work sentence. It was the best deal her legal warden could cut and, to be frank, the grey elfmaid was looking forward to a change of scene along with her father. The best part about it, the maiden considered, was that she wouldn't have to see Venn'lith Mitlan's ugly face.

"Ladies and Lords," the captain chimed again. "We will prepare for our orbital reentry. Please remain seated for the call to board our landing limmer and await instructions from your new pilot once aboard. Thank you."

Venn'lith was dubbed an even bigger celebrity than before and a hero all in one, and this made Quen'die sick. Even though the sun elf had raised not a finger during the grand counter, her revelation of the demons' true nature the world over had been the message that saved elfdom. Venn'lith's and Cadreth's broadcast had gone viral and it was remembered by rote in every language and every nation. Quen'die was a hero of the kingdoms of Atlantis, but Venn'lith was a hero for the entire earth and the maiden had realized after a while that she would just have to suck it up and deal with it.

"Whoa, Father," Quen'die teased. "Did I mention? If you hated attenuation, you'll _detest_ reentry! Why, we could burn-up if something goes wrong!" She couldn't resist getting the old lord's goat; it was too easy no matter how annoying.

"I know, don't remind me," he stared straight up through the roof at the belt of the Hunter constellation just so he could focus on a grounding point and stave off the wave of sickness. He turned over to his daughter with a devilish grimace. "But not as much as you're going to hate assisted labor..."

Assisted labor detail was the Circle of Law's juvenile's answer to the much harsher hard labor reserved for the adult population. The hours were shorter and each convict had a job coach. Quen'die's assignment was to join a construction crew for the erection of a visitor's plaza to be built in anticipation of future tourists to the planet. Upon hearing the details of the work, she knew she wasn't going to like it as the complex was to be a perfect replica of one of those pyramids. Worst of all, it was not only funded by Venn'lith's mother-robbing father, but it was named after his bestial spawn as well. _The Venn'lith Mitlan Temple of Welcome_. How horrid, she fumed. Although Quen'die was assigned to a golem team, she would have much preferred to be on a demolitions brigade in that case.

"Okay, you win."

During her trial, Mother was a hostile witness to the maiden, yet the lady didn't sing much in Venn'lith's favor either. Quen'die had lamented that her dearest Mavriel or even Commander Uriel were not present to put in a good word, but she had learned over time that meddling with elven affairs was just not the angelic way; unless it was a drastic circumstance. Their lot tended to help those who helped themselves.

No matter what Quen'die did, Mother would not return to being that person whom she had relied on for the first sixteen years of her life. The elfmaid supposed that her mother just didn't believe in revisiting older chapters of her life after she had read through them. As far as Glynna was concerned, Venn'lith Mitlan and her foul father had written the maiden's final entry for her, and she had finished reading Quen'die's bittersweet story some short time ago.

The maiden knew very well that once the doldrums of colony life had eaten into her nerves that she would miss Mother and Kaedish like crazy, and the grief and guilt would fire through her like one of those iron miniballs. She feared that day when everything would become routine again and, throughout those days, she'd have the blocks downtime to think about them. Kaedish would, without a doubt, pine over her in between his AYP drills and the good times spent with his new friends (anyone was better than Noopy), but would Mother?

"Ladies and Lords," the pilot intruded her thoughts. "We are now in orbit around Mars. This is our cruising altitude as we are circling overland at the ready to approach the lander's departure threshold. You are free to move about the cabin and an attendant will assist you with directions to the landing limmer. Please remember to return your recliners to their upright positions and check your overhead compartments for any items for carry on. Thank you for flying the _Bonn'fyr One_ and I wish you all a safe landing to Cydonia."

As Quen'die hopped out of the recliner, it folded back into itself with an automatic pop. She peered out the side of the panoramic transparency surrounding her and looked down at what was Earth. It was so far away and there really wasn't anything spectacular about it to the elven eye from that distance. What was most important about that world was that her family was on it and one day she hoped to become a part of them again. That hope seemed about as far flung as her home planet.

While the little earth glided across the immense glass wrapped before the maiden, a tiny flash of white light pulsed over her unwitting head from a source unknown. Had she been lying down on the recliner mere moments before, she would have caught it alive in the very center of her sights. The earth left the amazing spread before her as if it didn't want her to see it anymore. As she looked to either of her sides, she realized that she was standing alone with nothing but the gentle ping of the landing limmer's boarding alarm for company.
EPILOGUE:MARTIAN HOLIDAY

" _Sometimes I lie awake at night and ask, 'why me?' Then a voice answers, 'Nothing personal, your name just happened to come up.'"_

-Charles M. Schulz
No Presents for Wintersfest

" **L** ame!" cried Quen'die, as she moved her golem to secure a strut into the gigantic metal skeleton erected before her without effort. Her work detail was much more demanding than her father had made it out to be, but he was always one for heaping sugar over everything. Were she still on Earth going to school with Lauryl'la and On'dinn, or even the vile Venn'lith, she would be right in the middle of Wintersfest break and fighting over presents with Kaedish. For the first time in her memory, this particular morning was not a flurry of the lad's bratty howls of frustration and stereoscopic explosions from the new video games that Mother was sure to have bought them by the coachload. Neither present were the smells of puddings and crabs and lobsters nor the amazing cakes that Nanna was always certain to bring over.

Lubricant, old managrease and sawdust assaulted the maiden's nose this sad season and the clanking sounds of construction always carried into her ears. The worst part about being forced to work on the holiday was the sweltering temperature. On Mars, it was always hot and swampy, yet the air was thinner. She wondered often how such thick weather could make her breath short now and again.

There was never any breezy or rainy relief in Cydonia's latitudes during the autumn months and the sky overhead was a constant grey, grey and more grey. The sun, when it appeared, was different as well, and it sometimes made her feel sick. Nowhere and at no time on Earth was there anything like it. It was almost as if a movie studio had trapped everyone under a strange dome with a projected daylight and the production crew just couldn't get it right. At night, the sky was a milky dark purple, like the medicine that she had to slurp down when she was an elfling with roiling ear infections. The only thing, and Quen'die meant the _only_ thing, decent about Mars was the lower gravity. She could easily jump from a standstill to over six feet in midair, but even that got old after a while.

Her new golem just didn't handle as well as Jugger, but she attributed that to her ever-salty attitude. Perhaps her empathy link just wasn't as whole-hearted with it. This one was a bit smaller and hewn from mammoth ivory and, at times, she found it a bit grotesque, like a twelve-foot-tall skeleton.

"Look, Dee," Tam'laa, who was now not only her friend, but her boss, huffed over to her from her own golem. "I know what you're going to say, but this is only for _one_ Wintersfest and, well, you _are_ under punishment."

"So!" Quen'die belted back as her golem inserted another strut. "I mean, can't I just have _Wintersfest_ off? I bet even the slaves in the salt mines of Mongg have this day off!"

Tam'laa grimaced at that supposition. "Eh, I wouldn't go that far. Tel'lemuria can be pretty rough. They probably just get to have an apple for dessert or something, and then it's back to the grind."

"Whatever," the maiden spat forth, thinking only of herself at that moment. "The worst part about it all is that this is the end of the Eighties and I have to usher in the Nineties playing puppeteer to a bloody skeleton! You know, I bet Venn'lith's New Year's will be broadcast the world over!"

The gold elf shrugged with a sheepish wince. "Well, yeah, eh, actually it will be..."

" _Lame!_ " Quen'die screamed to the endless expanse of overcast sky. Her teeth hurt from the grit of the grind. "I saved Princess Cai'lee _and_ the king! I should at least be able to get the expedition commander to let me have _today_ off! And New Year's."

For her valiant efforts commanding Puppet Fire One and breaking the royal siege, Quen'die Reyliss was awarded the Royal Heroic Gold Standard once again. Never in Atlantean history had any soldier received it multiple times, but dire times breed heroes, even ungrateful ones.

"Look!" Tam'laa shook her head and cocked her eyes, hoping that her friend wouldn't see the annoyed gesture. "I'll get my father to sneak you into my quarters and we can have our very own Eighties retrofest on New Year's! My stereo has tons of tunes on it! Well, except for the Princes, but they're all still good."

The grey maiden smiled a bit at that. Even a tiny soiree in Tam'laa's cramped space was a welcome change from building Venn'lith's stupid pyramid. "Really? Eh, I'm sorry to vent, Tam, but that sounds really great. Just please let's not watch Venn'lith's New Year."

Her friend cracked one of her infectious smiles. "It's a deal. No Venn'lith."

"Heh, I wonder if she's showing yet," Quen'die let loose a catty chuckle while puffing out her belly. It looked as if she had swallowed a watermelon. "That maiden will be fit to burst in a couple of months or so. Which brings me to another point..."

"Oh no...," Tam'laa rolled her eyes again, and that time she didn't care if the grey elf saw it. She knew very well what was coming.

"How come she gets to have a _novion_ from another dimension and _mine_ has to go back Home?" By reflex, Quen'die looked skyward. It was a habit of hers that Tam'laa had noticed ever since the maiden had arrived planteside. Like her work detail, Quen'die was not dealing with the angelic's departure very well.

"Like, he was there one minute, Tam, and then," she sucked back a slight sniff. "Poof! Gone. He said he'd return and it wouldn't be the end, but it's been _months_! It's like, I get all... hot and stuff whenever I think about him! I don't like it. But I do. And sometimes, when I'm alone, I..."

"Whoa! Too much info!" the gold elf adjusted her voice to her "sensible" mode. "Well, look. The difference between Mav and Cadreth is that Cadreth _is_ an infernal and he and Lith have...new responsibilities, let's say. I mean, do you _really_ want a _novion_ who hates all of elfdom? Think about it, maiden!"

"I dunno," Quen'die huffed as if she wasn't listening to her friend's advice. "I think Rylla was right about those foreign lads. She warned me that they would just be there one minute and then forget about you when the next big thing comes along."

"Mav is a little bit more than just a foreigner," Tam'laa reminded the maiden as she ordered her golem to heave a sandstone block over the struts. "He's, well, from another dimension and all. He didn't leave you for some other maiden or anything like that. You just need to be patient. He was a good guy and I think he'll keep his promise."

Quen'die was half-convinced at that, but only for the time being. Tam'laa's assessment of the situation brought with it some hope, and as for Mavriel, hope was just about all she had. It wasn't like he could write her a message or call her up from where he was. Earth and elfdom, and even Mars were safe, and that was a gigantic baby step that she could consider taking throughout her own personal, dire times.

Warmed in that slight hope, Quen'die Reyliss looked up again and saw nothing but the sweaty blanket of Martian air. Before her eyes, one of the tiny native bugs fluttered around her bony golem. It was much like an earthly butterfly, but it owned an extra pair of lepid wings which were of a bright purple; a hue unlike she had ever before seen. The insect looped around with a gentle roll and landed in the extramaton's skeletal hand. Without effort or thought, the maiden squeezed her fist just as her puppet crushed the little beast.

### FIN.

Forged within the city limits of Des Plaines, Illinois, U.S.A. December 16, 2010-August 3, 2011.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

M.C. O'Neill was born in Chicago, Illinois on a cold November morning and graduated from Indiana University with a B.A. in graphic design, later to be awarded an MFA in painting from the University of Cincinnati. Currently, O'Neill resides in Des Plaines, Illinois.

Follow me on my blog!

http://royalmanaball.wordpress.com/

Photo credit: Indigo Moran

