 
# Memory's Emissary

Book 3 of The Moirean Tapestry

By Tara K. Young

Published by Myriad Maia at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Tara Kristen Young

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

# Introduction

Some who live in servitude accept their fate, obediently performing the tasks set before them. Some openly fight against it, only bringing more retribution down upon themselves, never bringing themselves closer to the freedom they desire so strongly. I have seen many destroyed in the most horrible fashions because they could not cope. I saw many more simply become numb, willing themselves to forget the truth. Over time, they managed to rewrite their memories... though they had a little help.

I have never fought my fate. I was resigned to it. Each task set me, no matter how unbearable or nonsensical, I performed. Every moment I showed my devotion, my changed loyalties, never once struggling against my new superiors ... Until She returned.

# Chapter 1

Clenching and flexing his fists, Gryp felt the skin over his arms and across his shoulders stretch uncomfortably. It always felt rough and dry on such days. The glacial winds were blowing at their strongest onto the Wolf central compound.

Reaching down for his military tunic, he felt the poke of familiar pain just behind his ribs. He ignored it.

His tunic was a slate blue garment that matched the stone of the mountains. He noticed how young his hand looked and paused for a moment as he was reminded of how much time had actually passed. He shook his head clear and pulled the garment over his head.

It was heavy and went nearly to his feet. The thigh-high slits on either side aided movement and revealed the grey, heavy leggings beneath. The sleeves went down to tailored cuffs at the wrists. The collar sat high around his neck for warmth. It took some recruits years to become accustomed to wearing the uniform for a full day. His superiors were impressed that in only a matter of months, he had proven himself to be strong enough and have enough endurance to wear the weight as easily as an old general.

In the thousands of years that had passed since the first time Shinga had killed Ashyina, the Wolves had developed a substantial army, as had the Dragons. They did not fight each other so much as amongst themselves but even that seemed more like war games than anything real. The militaries had been created as a precaution, as a way to defend against Shinga when she returned.

Though Gryp was sure that she had been reborn many times over and was even quite sure Ashyina and Shinga had exchanged blows, none of those events had gone to such an epic scale as to involve public knowledge let alone armies. Both women appeared to be keeping themselves anonymous to hide from the other.

Gryp could understand that. He too had kept his true identity secret in every incarnation since. No one knew he was a Thinker. That breed had all but died out. There was little reason anyone would have suspected him.

Secretly, he was as strong as ever and truly could have fashioned the military outfit out of his own mind rather than take the weight, but he never once used his advantages lest he be discovered. Instead, he forced himself to work harder than any to achieve success through mundane means because if there was any Thinker whose name was regarded more poorly than Shinga's, it was his.

Some of the young and impressionable had begun to glorify Shinga's story, siding with her over Ashyina, elevating her to a god, and seeing her truly as a noble Wolf who had never lowered herself to seek refuge from another race. Small, harmless cults had emerged to honour her memory. However, even in these, Gryp's name was an insult. He was a traitor to both sides and now his name was used to describe someone entirely self-serving and even as a racial slur against the inferior Dragons. As a result, he had had to do something a Thinker had never previously done. He kept his parent-given name for each incarnation. In this life, it was Iogrevard. Those most familiar with him called him Io.

Though the emergence of the trend against him had bothered him at first, Gryp had consoled himself with the knowledge that none of them knew the truth of what was going on in the universe. None of them knew why he had done what he did. None of them knew that he continually had a monstrous wolf, more intimidating than any of their best soldiers, breathing down the back of his neck and growling instructions.

The thought of Vanagandr made his fists involuntarily clench. The angelic wolf did not trust him—with good reason—and he did not trust the wolf. Both waited for the day when the true betrayal of the other would be revealed. Vanagandr's penchant for appearing unexpectedly had also made Gryp feel that he was never alone, never not being watched. Whichever God Vanagandr served had never wavered in his interest of Gryp because he was quite sure this god had also never wavered in his interest in the Stones of Ezamal.

After Gryp's thievery of Shinga' fang, Vanagandr had tried to threaten Gryp into handing it over. Gryp insisted that he would not until he had all the stones as it would ensure the wolf would not kill him prematurely. At his first opportunity, he had hidden the fang, unsure even then if Vanagandr had secretly been watching. In each life since, he retrieved the fang and hid it all over again. Over the years, he had become confident that even if Vanagandr knew the hiding place, he did not care. The fang was still safely where Gryp had left it.

He looked into his mirror, the lone object to adorn the walls of his tiny, single-plank room. His lack of sharing with another was a reward for excelling so impressively through his training.

He ran his fingers through his hair to make sure it appeared neat. The young man looking back at him was such a stranger. He had changed his form in every incarnation to avoid detection and he never got used to the change. It was not Gryp looking back at him but instead a 20 year old youth with short, dark-brown, wavy hair, a square but still immature looking jaw, a crooked nose from when he broke it has a child and had to force himself not to heal it properly, and the saddest dark brown eyes of any of the recruits. It was the one thing he was never able to make look as young as the rest of his body. His experience was able to shine through his disguise too well. Most remarked upon it simply as an intriguing feature when they met him, not suspicious of any deeper meaning.

Gryp tied the leather belt tightly around his waist and examined the Wolf crest, a howling wolf beneath a crescent moon that looked like a fang. Pleased that it was clean and neat, he left his room for the great meeting hall.

The corridors of the central building of the compound were as dark as always. Only small shafts to the surface let in any light. On days when the blizzards were raging, which was more often than not, very little light penetrated the openings and even less made it to the halls themselves. Most of the Wolves, especially those who lived in the compound, were accustomed to dim light and could still navigate the halls easily. It was only when envoys from the Cats and the Dragons came for meetings that anyone walked the halls with a torch.

The blizzard of the last several days had been a particularly severe storm. Even the underground waterways, which were used to catch the snow that had melted after falling through the shafts, sounded quieter than usual. They were likely frozen over. Despite the climate, it was not often that the drain water froze. The halls even smelled less chalky and musty. Little could reach the senses through such cold.

Standing before the large wooden doors that led to the great meeting hall, Gryp waited until he was called. Most recruits under review had to wait hours. It was deliberately a test of their endurance in their uniform. He too expected this test but was surprised to hear the creak of the door as it was pushed slowly open. The small head of a young teenager poked around the door. Gryp thought he could only be 13, still a year away from becoming a full recruit.

"They would like to see you now," the boy whispered, wide-eyed and apparently as surprised as Gryp at the swiftness of their request.

Gryp nodded and waited for the boy to open the door wide enough for him to pass. The boy did not immediately do anything. A moment later he jumped as if he realized he had simply been leaning against the door, staring at Gryp in awe. With great effort, the boy pulled the door wide and allowed Gryp to pass.

Without hesitation or waiting for instruction, he walked into the great hall to stand before a long table at which the three council members sat. An enormous bon-fire in the middle of the chamber was at his back, heating it uncomfortably. He surveyed the council members as best he could without moving his eyes or head to look at them directly.

Their quick invitation was not the only surprise. The two reserve council members were not sitting on either side of the Alpha. They normally filled the posts of the Cat and Dragon representatives who attended only for state matters. The Cat and Dragon representatives themselves were not even present. Instead, it was the Queen of Tryailla, the Cat planet, and the King of Tatsu, the Dragon planet.

The Tryaillan queen was like all of their rulers, tall enough to dwarf any and beautiful enough to awe as well. Her auburn hair shone tantalizingly in the fire light. Her features were unreadable but had the same profile of her ancestor, the first Tryailla. Her features were strong but nothing of them was unfeminine. Her eyes were brilliant violet just as her ancestor's had been. Sitting at the Wolf council table, she looked even larger. She was wearing heavy, grey and white furs to stave off the chill to which she was unaccustomed.

The current king of Tatsu was a jovial man. Even when his facial muscles were at rest, as they were now, he still retained a slight, pleasant smile. His skin was dark sienna, but his eyes were a vibrant hazel. He was a large man in every respect. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a barrel chested frame. He too was currently wrapped in in heavy furs though his were brown.

Between the foreign leaders sat the Alpha of the Wolves. She was an old, white-haired woman with as much a barrel chested body as the leader of the Dragons. She was far more intimidating than any general. She moved as though she was frail but many ambitious soldiers had died at her hand when attempting to challenge her power. Gryp was sure that the next successor would be chosen by her endorsement rather than her defeat.

The Alpha smiled down at him. He tried to read her thoughts but was aggravated to find that he could not. He was similarly handicapped with the other two rulers. It had become an irritating trend in the last several hundred years for the royals to be able to close their minds to outside influence. He was not quite sure how or why but he was fairly certain there had not been a Thinker as a ruler in twice as long. This development had not pleased Vanagandr either.

"Iogrevard," the Alpha said loudly so that it echoed in the hall. Though they were the only present in the chamber, she spoke as if addressing a crowd, "You were to have your recruit review today."

_Were to have?_ He was not feeling encouraged. Though he was able to remain mostly focused and outwardly calm, the back of his mind raced with horrific possibilities.

Looking first at the Cat queen then at the Dragon king, the Alpha continued, "We felt it unnecessary. Your superiors had requested you undergo the review after your first year at 15. I refused. They have been begging me to move you through the ranks. I continued to refuse. They pleaded with me to think of the instruction of which I was depriving you and I refused. For five years they have come to me weekly, sometimes even nightly, begging me to reconsider, and I have refused. Do you know why that would be?"

Gryp shook his head slowly. Though his superiors had never mentioned these actions, he had glimpsed the events within their minds. Until this moment, he had assumed the Alpha did not believe them, thinking him no more gifted than any other recruit. Now that he stood before this elite council in such unusual circumstances, he knew there must have been more. Frustratingly, he was blocked once more when he attempted to read her mind out of habit.

She was no longer smiling but neither was there consternation in her gaze. "I refused them," she began, "Because I wanted to watch you go through the traditional measures, not because I thought you might stumble or fail. Quite the contrary, I fully expected you to succeed at all the tasks and training exercises set before you. Not only that, I expected you to do better than any before. That is how talented we all knew you to be."

For a moment, she ceased talking, as if to evaluate his reaction to her praise. He did not allow even a twitch to show his annoyance that he cared nothing for praise and everything for success. He could do nothing Vanagandr wanted of him so low in the ranks.

Once she seemed to feel she had seen enough, the Alpha continued, "The reason I refused them was simply time. I wanted to watch you. I wanted time to see if your true thought would come forth. Those with the most talent can also have the most ambition. In our society, such ambition could be a threat to me."

Keeping his face as stone, he asked politely, "Alpha, did you see this ambition in me?"

To his surprise, she exploded into a boisterous belly laugh. The other king and queen also laughed, though much more quietly.

When the Alpha had regained her breath, still with a small chuckle, she answered, "Of course I did, boy! You have more ambition than any Wolf I have ever met, including those I was forced to cut down."

Silently, he berated himself. Obviously, all the years had not made him any better at hiding his determination. This news also unnerved him. If they knew this, how much else had he betrayed? Being such a threat, did the Alpha simply intend to kill him now? Yet another life wasted when there may be so little time.

"But you are also intelligent," she added, now much more serious. She clasped her hands and rested them upon the table before her. "You are not so stupid as to challenge me outright, not yet, and I do not think you would want it that way. You, my boy, fight better than any in our ranks but you also despise it. I have seen it in your eyes. It is distasteful to you but you do it because you must."

It was not until this moment that Gryp realized he had always thought so highly of himself that he had been underestimating those he deemed inferior; in other words, everyone. Not once had he noticed how astute and wise this woman to be; powerful, yes, but never wise.

"You have talent, Iogrevard," she continued. "You have talent naturally but you are far from a natural student. If your skill were measured on how much you have learned from your teachers, it would be nothing."

Gryp felt this assessment fair. He _had_ learned nothing from his tutors. All of their instructions he had learned before. They did not know they taught a reincarnated Thinker, such a rare occurrence now that some believed them nothing more than myth.

The Alpha seemed to understand his agreement in the silence. "Though you may have had nothing to learn from the teachers of young recruits, do not be mistaken in thinking no one has anything to teach you."

Despite Gryp being able to stifle his scoff, the Alpha showed her powerful observation once more. She read him so clearly, more clearly than any in all his lifetimes whether living as an honoured council member of the Thinkers or as a fugitive. It made him worry that her ability to block him from her thoughts might indicate another: to read his.

Her next words caught him so completely off-guard that he felt his knees weaken and only through discipline was he able to remain upright. "I like you," she explained. "You are intelligent and focused. I believe there is much deeper in you that you hide from the world, but I like you."

No one had ever liked Gryp, not once in countless lives, not even those who found him useful or those who had been family by birth. The words felt strange and yet a part of him lapped them up feverishly.

Before he had finished comprehending her words, she returned to her pragmatic tone and the purpose of their meeting. "This meeting has been called to inform you that you will be made my official successor. Unlike our friends," she gestured with her hand to the royalty on either side, "Succession for us is not such a simple matter but I am getting old and one day will be unable to defeat those who challenge me. There are special circumstances that make such sudden transfers of power... problematic," she explained. "All three races would like to see this change. While we cannot simply overturn the old ways–I am quite sure I would have a revolt on my hands in doing so–we would like to nudge our customs into a more amenable arrangement. At the birth of Dominans, choosing a leader was much more civilized. A successor was chosen and, if not already prepared for the task, groomed to the position. While the legal right to challenge me will remain, you will be prepared to replace me. During that time, any challenges I receive must be met by you. There will no doubt be grumblings about this minor technicality but if you can defeat any challenger, then there will be none strong enough to oppose us and it will not matter."

"And if I lose?" he asked grimly.

She chuckled once more. "Then it will not matter because we will both be killed but it is worth the effort to try. Our races have become so volatile... " She was interrupted by the shifting of the Tryaillan Queen in her seat. Though the Alpha continued to smile, her eyes narrowed. "Tryailla, I believe such smugness when a guest in someone else's home is quite inappropriate. The Dragons and the Wolves have had hardships your race has not experienced. Looking down upon us is naïve and arrogant."

The foreign ruler took the admonishment with a gracious nod but replied, "You know that Tryailla would always be happy to change that."

"And you know why we will never accept," the king of Tatsu barked bitterly.

"Enough!" the Alpha shouted with force but without anger. "We are here to discuss my successor, not our petty differences." Turning back to Gryp, she said much more kindly, "All of us are in agreement to this new arrangement. It will not be announced to the people until a later time, which has yet to be decided. In the meantime, you will be moved into royal quarters and be treated as a member of the royal family. As I am one of the rare Alphas without one, having you around will be a nice addition to these lonely halls.

"In one week, the three of us will call upon you again. You had better hope you are as ready as you think you are for this position. You are dismissed," she said finally with a wave of her hand.

He nodded politely and returned the way he had come. The shock of the situation was still resting agitatedly upon his shoulders as he walked down to his room. He had always known he would move up the ranks fast but he had never dared hope his efforts would result in success so quickly. He could have challenged the Alpha years ago but he knew he was too young to be taken seriously by the other soldiers. He would have spent all his time dealing with challengers to his own power. He wanted to develop a reputation and respect. With the Alpha's backing, he would have it.

Slowly, he closed the door to his room, and collapsed upon the bed; half in shock, half relieved. The half relief he felt dissipated instantly when he heard the familiar growl of Vanagandr.

* * *

Poria sat up in her tiny bed. It was a narrow board upon which she slept. The blanket, a light cloth that did little a blanket was intended, had fallen to her waist. She leaned forward to rest her head upon her bent knees, which she was hugged tightly. She tried to block out the dreams and even the shaft of light coming through the ajar bedroom door. She knew it was hopeless to wish for the nightmares to stop.

As long as she could remember in her short twelve years, she had had the same nightmares. For some reason, she could never become accustomed to them. Each time she had the blood and torture filled dreams, she awoke sore, exhausted, and close to sobbing.

Slowly, she turned to dangle her legs off the board. Being small for her age, she still could not touch the ground when seated fully upon the plank. Looking around, she saw the eight other planks empty.

The chill tickled her legs unpleasantly. It was always after these nightmares that the cold bothered her and her joints ached as if she were an old woman. She could never understand why. Upon the rare occasions she had mentioned it to her parents, they dismissed her for being weak and silly. At seven years old she had learned never to mention it again.

Her parents were not excessively unkind. In fact, they were quite compassionate compared to the others in the capital. Her friend Ciarle had been beaten daily by his father to ensure he would be ready for the military. This was common in the Quarters; a section of town inhabited by military families for whom there appeared to be nothing else in life.

_It isn't like there is any point to all the training_ , she thought to herself. They had never had a battle or war like was spoken of in the legends. Shinga had never returned, if she had ever lived. The thought made her grumble more. It was all this lunacy about training to fight that made her family the way it was.

Standing and reaching for her heavy tunic, Poria looked through the door to the kitchen. Her father, a squat, balding man with pale green eyes, was sitting quietly at the table and sipping a drink. Her mother polished several knives across from him. He was lame despite being only 47. A training accident had claimed the bottom of his right leg and part of his left foot. He could not even boast about some noble battle having caused his injury. No one could.

Her mother was taller than her father and ten years his senior. She had long, wavy, dark brown hair and a rough face. It was rough from all her years as a weapons trainer to new recruits. Most of the year, she would be at the compound to teach long before Poria rose but it was the month of recruit reviews which meant all those who were not generals, council members, or recruits were not needed.

Dressed, Poria entered the small, windowless, grey kitchen and looked around. Her three older brothers and older and younger sisters were not there. This was not unusual but she had hoped that they might be given the same reprieve as her mother. This was a silly thought as, aside from her younger sister, all the others were current recruits. Even if none of them were being tested that day, it would not be looked upon favourably for them to indulge in personal matters.

"Where is Giat?" Poria asked as she made her way towards the side table where the bowls, utensils, and food were kept.

Without looking up from her polishing, her mother replied indifferently, "Out playing with her friend Unta."

Poria opened the small wooden barrel that held their grain. She shuddered at the thought of the blandness as she scooped the little pellets into her bowl.

"I hate ashak. Only a Cat would think this is edible," she grumbled as she closed the lid to the barrel.

"But you will eat it anyway," her mother replied tartly. "There will be no hunting party for at least a weak while the blizzard passes." Setting her cloth down, she pointed the knife, which she had just finished polishing, at Poria. "And don't you be whining about what the Cats bring us. We are lucky to have it. They have been kind enough to try and aid us on this horrible planet. Why our people ever settled here, I will never know but there is no point in whining about what we can't change." She turned back to her knives to pick up the next in need of her care.

"Why don't we just leave," Poria suggested as she attempted to put more wood upon the fire in the corner, receiving an irritating burn upon her hand from a spark in the process.

"The Alpha says we stay, so we stay," her mother said with certainty.

Poria opened the pot over the flames, ladled some of the boiling water over the pellets in her bowl, and checked that the pot did not need refilling. "Then maybe the Alpha should stay and the rest of us can leave," she said.

"Poria," her father's deep, booming voice filled the kitchen as he looked at her warningly.

Poria saw her mother looked furious too.

The woman was determined to explain why. "If you think a young, untrained girl like you can challenge the Alpha, then you are simply arrogant and reckless," she said. "Get some sense into your head, girl. If you go around saying such things, the wrong person might hear and think you are serious. Duels with the Alpha have been fought and lost on less."

Poria sat down next to her father and sulked over her bowl. Her nose felt like an icicle attached to her face. She hated the cold.

There was a loud knock at the front door, which was at the opposite end of the small kitchen. With one last venomous look at Poria, her mother stood from the table and went to answer it.

The strong blizzard made an attempt to gust into the room as her mother pulled the visitor inside. Though the woman's hood was still up, her build and the cloak in particular, which had a grey and white striped fur lining around the rim of the hood, indicated it was their family friend, Siute. She was carrying a large basket that had been covered with a blue cloth to secure the contents.

"Are you insane, Siute?" Poria's mother asked in the same tone she had just been using to scold Poria. "Why would you come on a day like this?"

The woman lowered her hood and gave a small smirk. Siute was one of the few beautiful women who had grown up in the Quarters. The main reason was that she had been spared military service, which tended to be unkind to the facial features. Her mother had died unexpectedly from an illness that also made her father an invalid. The slightest breeze would knock him over and, as Dominans was not known for the lightness of its wind, he was forced to remain homebound while his daughter saw to his needs.

All the men in the Quarters loved watching her when she was making her errands. She had the most beautiful red-brown hair that cascaded down her back, because there had never been a need or usefulness to cut it. Her features were all delicate and unmarred. Her brilliant green eyes could catch anyone's attention and despite the frigid temperatures, her lips were always a deep pink.

"It really isn't as bad as it first seems," Siute defended as she lifted the heavy burden onto the table. "Besides, I doubt these would keep another week," she added as she set the basket upon the table and removed the cloth to reveal brightly coloured balls of orange, red, and even fuchsia.

Poria remembered the last time she had seen fruit. It was on her 10th birthday. Her brother had been one of the few lucky boys picked to serve the Alpha when she made a rare visit to Tryailla. He had managed to smuggle home a few pieces to his family as presents.

"Where did you ever get so much fruit?" her father asked, aghast.

"The Tryaillan Queen is visiting and she insisted upon bringing enough fruit for every home," Siute explained brightly. "Unfortunately, the weather has been hindering the deliveries. Father is trying to sleep his way through the cold, so I offered to help bring some of the baskets."

Poria's mother scrutinized the offering. "How much do we get?" she asked, trying to sound pragmatic but could not help sounding slightly hopeful.

"All of it!" Siute said happily. "This is your share."

Not to be deterred, Poria's mother asked, "How are we going to get this to the other children?"

Poria wished her mother would stop complaining as her stomach was grumbling and her mouth salivating at the sight of the enticing orbs.

Siute would not let such a pessimist win. "The compound is fully stocked, including enough for each recruit. This is all for you."

"Can I please have one now, mother?" Poria whined.

"Only one," her mother replied sternly. "We need to make them last as long as possible."

Before her mother had even finished speaking, Poria had reached out and grabbed one of the bright red fruits that she remembered from when her brother had treated them. Biting into it without restraint, the pink juices of the soft flesh trickled down her chin. Her taste buds all stood to attention and tingled painfully at the unfamiliar stimulus. It was the same the last time she had tried it and she knew that the sensation would subside quickly leaving only the sweetness behind.

As the others picked their own fruits, they began to chat about the goings on in the quarter. Siute informed them she had received three proposals that week. She refused. It was always some young recruit, enamoured but unready for such a life as having a family.

Then she talked about how her neighbour's eldest son had been sent home on disciplinary charges for failing to train hard enough. Poria's mother nodded in agreement to this news. She apparently had been one of the instructors involved in the matter. The boy had not once picked up his blade between classes and barely made any effort during them.

Poria's father listened as the women chatted but his face looked tense. Poria could tell he was troubled by something.

"Father, what is wrong?" Poria asked quietly, trying to avoid interrupting Siute, who was discussing the recruits who had received favourable results.

He shook his head dismissively. "Nothing. I am being silly," he said.

The conversation halted and Poria turned to see what it was. Her mother was glaring at him.

"You? Silly?" she asked, exasperated and somewhat angry. "You tell me what is wrong. You have never been silly a day in your life."

After a deep breath, he explained, "I am not complaining at the gift the queen has brought us but I am confused. Such visits have never been planned during the month of recruit reviews. Every person is involved in these things and it is happening when the fewest people are on duty. The timing is strange. It makes me wonder what else is going on."

Her mother considered his words.

"It must be important," Siute offered. "Two days ago one of the boys who proposed to me mentioned that he had seen the Draigo of Tatsu and his retinue enter the compound."

"How would the boy have seen that and been able to propose to you so recently?" Poria's mother asked sternly.

Siute blushed, knowing she had let slip too much. The boy would have been a recruit. The reviews had only started three days prior and took two days to complete. None would have yet been permitted outside the compound for something so frivolous.

"He managed to find a free moment," she said simply, trying to make the situation seem more trivial.

"Free moment, nothing!" Poria's mother boomed. "Tell me the boy's name. He needs to be brought up on charges."

"Calm down," Siute replied. "I will not tell you his name. No one is getting punished simply because I'm too wonderful for anyone's good," she said playfully as she pulled herself up tall, pretending to be haughty, which she very much was not. Poria had never known a kinder person and had always felt it was the lack of training that had kept the woman sweet.

The fruit had settled in Poria's stomach, which was now aching more than before. Her forgotten bowl of grains had gone cold. Grudgingly, she returned to the pot over the fire and scooped more steaming water over the contents.

Back at the table, she mechanically scooped the porridge into her mouth and stared at the roughened wood table. She thought of the Queen of Tryailla, the woman who so kindly gave them such gifts and visited at such strange times. Perhaps her father and Siute were right; perhaps something important was happening at that very moment.

* * *

"Grindella, be reasonable!" Minyera, the current Tryailla, shrilled.

She was arguing with the Alpha. She paced the small chamber to which they had retreated after their meeting with Iogrevard. The Alpha was sitting comfortably in a chair that sat near a dark corner in the room and away from the scorching heat.

Stopping abruptly, Minyera turned to the Draigo of Tatsu, who was sitting comfortably in a large chair as near to the fire as possible without setting fire alight. She pleaded with him. "Londu, support me in this! You know how reckless this is," she said, breathing in heavily the caustic smells of chalk and burning wood.

He said nothing, trying to avoid getting between to the two arguing women. Londu tended to avoid turning the Alpha's disagreements into an instantly-formed violent rage. Minyera did not care; besides, she was quite convinced she could take the old woman if necessary.

The room was dark, with no shafts for light from the outside. Minyera was thankful for this as she felt there was no need to help the cold penetrate the compound further. If she had not been so upset, she would have been cold pacing only in her long dress. Even though it was made of three layers of thick fabric and the inside of the high collar and tailored cuffs were lined with soft fur, it had not helped against the cold of Dominans.

As with all Wolf architecture, the room was utilitarian, lacking entirely in passion or creativity. The only variation on the walls were the wooden double doors through which they had entered and on the opposite wall the large semi-circular opening for the fireplace, which appeared to be so tantalizing to Londu that Minyera thought he might jump in it soon. The crackling and popping of the wood filled Londu's silence for several moments.

Taking a deep breath, Minyera tried to avoid smelling the burning metal and wax that had been used to get the wet wood burning. After folding her arms, she decided to glare at Grindella to await a more amenable response.

The Alpha growled low, "Minyera, it is only your lineage and the fact that you do not yet have an heir that is restraining me. We have been through this already. Io must know the truth of the angels and gods if he is to be my proper successor. There is none other than him capable of leading these people and capable of keeping these important secrets."

"Then follow the proper channels!" Minyera yelled again as she restarted her pacing. "We will tell him the truth after you die."

"And I have explained to you that this one is different," the Alpha said with a calm that hid her true irritation. "There is a darkness in him and without our interference now, he could be capable of doing irreparable harm to all of our races."

Minyera scoffed. "He is just a boy. It isn't like he is one of the Thinkers."

"Are you so sure of that?" the Alpha asked, causing Minyera to stop abruptly.

"He couldn't be," she whispered but did not sound convinced even to herself.

Londu cleared his throat with a little too much effort to be decent. "The question is: which Thinker," he said. "Could he be a formal council member? Does he even know himself?"

"I believe he does," replied the Alpha. "His skills have come too quickly despite his efforts to hide his unusual progress and I do believe he tries to hide it."

Minyera's heart sank to between her knees at her next thought. "Or he is something far more unwelcome," she suggested quietly.

"Calm down," the Alpha half-chuckled.

Glaring, Minyera spat back, "Calm down? If he is an angel or, worse, a god pretending to be us, we have run out of time. Fagan and I are not ready. We are far from ready for dealing with such beings. We need more time!"

"Breathe," the Alpha instructed kindly. "We have no reason to believe the angels or gods are masquerading as our own."

"Though we have no reason to believe they are not," Londu added. "They have worked in secret before."

"Have any of your people been abducted recently?" the Wolf leader reasoned once more.

To this, Londu shook his head in the negative as did Minyera. Nothing like that had happened to any race for generations. They knew the gods had located Dominans and Tatsu because until several generations before, people did disappear. It was always at night and always when those abducted were reverted. It had led to all three races working very hard to avoid reversion entirely. The cats were still developing new techniques but the Dragon and Wolves had simply entered denial that they reverted at all. Instead, they began to shun the magical abilities of their ancestors and took physical measures to hinder the process of reversion from occurring naturally, looking down upon any who allowed their animal form to manifest. Minyera knew that was one reason the Wolves all slept upon uncomfortable planks, so that they never slept deep enough to allow the body to revert. She was also convinced this is why they had become such a volatile and disagreeable race. Whether it was due to these efforts or simply a coincidence of timing, the abductions stopped abruptly and never happened again. However, the fear in the social consciousness of venturing off alone at night and the taboo of reversion remained thoroughly ingrained in both cultures so much so that most people did not even know the origins of either.

"Maybe they are changing their tactics," Minyera suggested, desperately trying to remain calm now that the idea of imminent death had taken hold. "Maybe that is why they stopped abducting people, they just decided to infiltrate our races instead."

Normally, she was a very calm person and difficult to ruffle but the possibility of meeting her destiny so soon after taking power was not simply frightening, it was bone chilling. At this moment, she wished very much to be home in her own comfortable room overlooking the gardens, chatting with her Fagan.

"Tryailla," the Alpha called sternly. The use of her title caused Minyera to come back to herself but more out of irritation than a disciplined sense of duty. It had only been a year since her parents had chosen to die, giving their posts to her and her twin. The reminder of her newly acquired responsibilities was still uncomfortable.

"My apologies, Grindella," Minyera said quietly, lowering herself into the remaining chair between the Alpha and Londu. "This is simply overwhelming. I did not expect to be concerned with such things so soon."

Grindella's face showed compassion and understanding but her tone was far more scolding. "You should have," she said. "We should expect these things at any time. Perhaps if there is one failing of having such a peaceful society, it is that you have become too relaxed. I must always be prepared for attack."

The woman's pride felt a little too strong. Minyera's blood rose to a low simmer at the insult. "I would rather that than see my people kill each other daily _just in case_."

Though Londu had been avoiding coming between the women before now, he was obviously afraid the tensions were escalating. In a rare move away from his blanket of furs, he stood up and put himself between the Alpha and Minyera, acting as a physical barrier as he spoke. "There is no need to be hostile. None of us are enemies."

Looking at Minyera, he explained, "You need to come to the reality of your position as all your ancestors did before you. You are the only half angel amongst our races and more importantly, you are on our side. It must be difficult carrying such a weight but it is the way of things and will not change. If you have no hope, how can the rest of us be expected to? You are intended to rescue us, not the other way around."

Minyera wanted to yell at him and fully intended to do just that but the Draigo turned to the Alpha and began to admonish her as well.

"Admit to yourself that you insult our Tryaillan friend out of envy. None of their kind has known the uncertainty and fear of the abductions or even of the mundane daily risks of lacking food or comfort. We cannot return to them now but not one of their people has ever treated us as lesser. They have been kind and willing to help where they can, respecting our pride. You would do well to show more kindness to the race that safeguards all of our existence."

With these words, he pulled himself up taller. Minyera wondered if he did this partly as an attempt to deter the Alpha from ripping out his throat. Unlike Minyera, Londu had no special angelic blood upon which the hopes of their survival rested. However, to her surprise, the old woman let out a tense breath and smiled convincingly.

"My apologies," she offered with a nod to both of them. "I should have realized I am simply trying to hide my own insecurities. Keeping such a violent culture under control is not always easy and I fear for all of us if a strong leader does not replace me."

"Our ancestors have dealt with such sudden shifts of power amongst your kind before," Minyera replied in an effort to reassure but the Alpha shook her head.

"I do not think they have," she countered. "The scarcity for our people has grown. They take each blizzard as a separate event, trying to cope with how much they are forced to seek shelter but I have noticed the blizzards getting worse and the people are locked up together more often than not. It leads to increased tensions and with no real battle through which to express them, I fear it is only a matter of time before there is a crisis. Io is the only youth in my entire life stronger than I am and better able to hold this position but if he has his own ideas that he clings to too strongly, he could destabilize everything that protects us as much as it has."

Londu and Minyera said nothing. It did not feel there was anything they could say. They did not know the Wolves as well as she did and any words of comfort would feel empty and insensitive.

In their silence, the Alpha pleaded, "I must be able to tell him the truth to ensure it is done right. I understand the need to avoid recklessness. If this information became common knowledge, I would have an entire army of young men with more energy than sense thinking they could stab through the heart of a god. Let me initiate him. Let me tell him the truth before I am gone for the safety of my people."

Minyera turned to Londu. They silently conferred with their eyes that they could not refuse her. Iogrevard would be the first non-royal to know the truth of their histories since Shinga walked amongst them.

* * *

"Shut the door!" the tavern owner yelled at the woman who had just entered.

She had opened the door wide and now stood upon the threshold surveying the room. All had turned to look at her with her entrance but none could see her face, which was hidden beneath the large, thick hood of her grey cloak. The only part of her visible was the top of her sternum. Upon this small exposure of skin rested a metal pendant so brilliant that the metal looked almost white. It was in the shape of a curvaceous woman wearing a sleeveless robe with such abundant fabric, the folds upon it were clearly visible even to those across the room. The figure stood with her body facing forward, her elbows at her sides but both lower arms pointing to the left. Her palms extended parallel to an invisible floor upon which the figure could have been standing. Her chin was turned down and to the right and her face contemplative.

After examining her thoroughly, the patrons were quickly becoming irritated as the visitor remained motionless, letting the gusting winds and snow blow into the tavern. Until her arrival, it had been warm due to the fire on the wall to her right and several lanterns throughout the dimly-lit and low-ceilinged room.

"Shut the door, you stupid woman!" the tavern owner yelled again, looking as if he wanted to throttle her.

Stepping into the tavern, the door shut behind her. She did not shut it. It shut itself. This small detail did not go unnoticed by the hardened soldiers and celebrating recruits who had successfully passed their reviews that day.

The woman walked silently – and truly silently for even her feet made no sounds upon the stone floor. She approached the tavern owner, who was daring to glare at the creepy visitor while still sorting several tankards.

Once she had approached the counter, she leaned forward seeming to indicate that the man do the same. Defiantly, for he was defying his own fear, he did as she wanted, which allowed her to whisper in his ear. The entire tavern had become so quiet that one would have been tempted to shush the crackling wood in the fire place.

When the woman had finished whispering, she stood upright again. The tavern owner looked confused as if he had not heard her right.

"Do you mean the recruits?" he asked, causing several of the victorious young men present to look as though they had been drained of blood.

She nodded and to the boys' horror, the tavern owner pointed at them. Slowly, her shadowed face turned in their direction where it stayed for a moment before turning back. She shook her head in the negative.

"Those are the only recruits here," the owner explained. "The rest will still be in the compound until their reviews are finished."

The hood of her cloak changed angle slightly but in such a way to indicate some form of interest. Then she nodded.

The owner eyed her suspiciously. "Who are you?"

The woman did not answer and instead turned and left the tavern, the door closing quickly behind her. After she had gone, every person in the room stared at each other in silence.

# Chapter 2

"You are lucky the gods are more patient than I in this matter," growled Vanagandr.

He was squeezed into Gryp's tiny room. His body filled up the space so completely that the sleeping plank was pressed askew against the wall. He watched as Gryp sat upon the floor, reviewing the information within the tome he had kept for generations. The angel was not hiding his discomfort. He shifted with a grunt.

Not long after escaping with Vanagandr, Gryp had begun writing in the book. He wrote any information that might be related to the gods. So far, it had been precious little. It was mostly information from the first lifetime he had learned of the angels. He had taken to the practice despite the possibility of the document being found because one could never guarantee how much he would remember in the next life. It seemed more and more difficult to recall the past with each successive birth. He wondered if that alone was the reason for the decline in Thinkers' numbers though Vanagandr said it was likely more to do with the efforts of the gods trying to destroy the Thinkers one by one. Despite Vanagandr's status, Gryp could not help but notice the wolf had not really known.

Perhaps the angel had been demoted for having spent so many years fruitlessly following him around. Gryp had noticed both their moods had soured over their time of forcible companionship and their relationship had been far from kind even in the beginning.

"An unthinking child has more patience that you do," Gryp replied only to receive the customary low growl in response. Their conversations had often descended into this when the wolf deigned to stay longer than the moment required to bark an order.

Gryp shut the book in frustration. "Nothing. How can so many stones have been found in the matter of a few years and then nothing for millennia? It makes no sense."

Vanagandr tried to lie down upon the tiny space of the floor but quickly gave up the attempt after realizing he was failing miserably. "There is some sense to it," he replied to Gryp's outburst. "We have not seen Shinga since that time either."

Glaring at his guardian, Gryp grunted, "She has been reborn. I know she has been several times."

"And every time you have kept your distance from her," Vanagandr replied, "Like a frightened pup."

Affronted, Gryp jumped to his feet to stare down the monster, unafraid of retaliation. All their years together had taught him not to fear any— at least for small outbursts. "She would blink me out of existence faster than any of your masters if she could and that could be a very real possibility. I am not taking that risk. If you would at least give me your diane. I could take care of her like I did Ventha and she would not be a problem anymore. We could find the stones in peace."

Vanagandr's demeanour changed strangely at this particular outburst. He seemed entirely enraged and entirely amused causing him to freeze with a skew-eyed expression before he had sorted his thoughts enough to answer.

"You think quite highly of my soul but you will never again hold it," he said. "As for Shinga, you would find that searching for the stones would become quite impossible if she were to be destroyed. You must accept this and seek her out once more as I have instructed. Perhaps when you are Alpha, you can push the people's minds to accepting her once more? Then she would be able to show herself."

"Their hatred is too deep. If Shinga is so important to your gods' plans, then you can find her yourself," Gryp whined loudly.

"You know I have been ordered to stay away from her even if I did know her whereabouts. It is you who must find her. It is the gods will," he explained simply for another countless time in their relationship.

Letting out an irritated sigh, Gryp replied, "At least finding the stones will mean I will be rid of you sooner."

"Precisely," Vanagandr growled in agreement.

Gryp knelt back down, wincing at the poke in his ribs. Using his thought, he opened a small hole in the floor and settled the book inside before willing the rock to cover it. Only keeping the book hidden was important enough for him to risk using his magical abilities.

As he inspected the smooth stone, ensuring he had left no indication of the truth behind, he announced, "The Alpha will be calling upon me soon. You will need to go so that I am ready for the invitation."

"Have you learned what this meeting is about," Vanagandr asked.

Gryp shook his head in the negative, "They refused to say but it has something to do with her taking me on as a student."

"I will return tomorrow. Remember everything," Vanagandr ordered. "I will want to know more about this strange woman." He disappeared in silence.

In the middle of a sigh of relief, there was a knock at the door. It was too soon to be sent for and yet Gryp could think of no other visitor that would be calling. Slowly, he opened his door and peeked around to see the same young boy from the previous week staring back at him. Once again, the boy was in awe of the man looking down at him.

"The Alpha has requested you," he announced, attempting to sound official but failing when his voice cracked with his age.

Gryp nodded in acknowledgement but informed the boy he would have to wait a moment as he was still undressed. He grabbed his uniform and arranged it as quickly and neatly as he could, hoping that he had caused a delay of only a minute. He wanted to take no chances in offending the one person he could read least.

As he followed the boy, he was surprised to find that he was being taken down corridors he knew only from previous lives and even at that only from vague recollections. A faint tickle of a memory came back to him. There was a repository of written works. It was a large room but the collections themselves had been small and useless at the time.

The longer the pair walked, the stronger the memory became. He was sure that was where he was being taken. This only confused him more. What did the Alpha have planned for him?

The large carved doors stood before them. The boy stopped, nodded to him in parting, and walked back the way they had come. Gryp stood awkwardly before the doors and waited. Several moments later, they parted to allow him to enter. Without hesitation, he did and learned immediately that the doors had opened without physical touch. The Alpha stood upon a raised platform across the room. To the left of the centre of the room stood the queen of Tryailla; to the right, the king of Tatsu. There were no others present.

The stone walls within the room were as he had remembered them, the lightest grey of any rock within the compound. It was not white but it was brilliant compared to the drab corridors and quarters within the structure. The walls had been lined with far more papers since he had seen them. He was tempted to walk to them, to search them for some small mention of angular stones but the Alpha's voice, booming within the room, brought him back to attention.

"Please stand in the middle of the room, Iogrevard," she instructed to which Gryp obeyed.

"Welcome to the archives," she said as she gestured with her arms to the room in which they stood. "This library contains many interesting documents about our past, but nothing nearly as interesting as you will learn from us."

He said nothing, simply watching her as she smiled mischievously. For a moment, she looked directly into his eyes. Her gaze penetrated so thoroughly that he was sure his best efforts to block her were failing. To his horror, he was sure he was right when he heard the next words she spoke.

"Which Thinker are you and do not lie, we have ways to determine the truth," the Alpha ordered. "I have watched you even more closely this last week and I am sure of it."

Most people did not even know who the Thinkers were anymore. There were vague legends and fables and everyone knew the stories of Shinga and Ashyina but most did not believe them. They were far too long ago to have stayed in public memory and the label of Thinker had lasted even less time.

If they knew of Thinkers, if they knew –whether by reading his mind or by some other means –that he was indeed one of them, would they too wish to murder the traitorous Gryp? Would they see him punished for his betrayals? He had wronged both sides. There had been none who would have sided with him then. Would that change now?

Keeping his eyes upon hers as steadily as he could, he lied, "I am Lapidus."

Whatever they had expected, this was not it, for they looked at each other in shock. For a moment he was sure he had given himself away and became even more terrified at a new possibility. Perhaps they already knew of other reincarnated Thinkers. Perhaps they knew Lapidus himself. But he could not back down from the lie. His fate would be the same whether he failed at this moment or later.

"Why have you not come forward to the people?" the Alpha asked. "Lapidus is regarded as a noble ancestor."

"And a legend," Gryp reasoned. "No one would have believed me. They would likely have thought me to be simply an arrogant young man boasting about my feats."

"You must prove you are Lapidus," the queen of Tryailla instructed. "The great Dyr ensured that along with our history, certain information be passed down through those who led the people. Among this information were the stories and little known facts about many of the Thinkers. We can test those who might attempt such 'boasting'."

Though Gryp was slightly worried he might fail at such a test, his telepathy from that time had allowed him to know many of the secrets of those around him.

"Ask me anything," he said indifferently.

It was the king of Tatsu who asked, "Who is the rabbit?"

From Lapidus' memories, Gryp knew that the man had chased a rabbit in the woods many times only to discover it to be a disguised angel. However, to say simply that would not be convincing enough. There was far too much of an emotional trauma for Lapidus.

Lowering his head, he forced himself to come near to tears. It was quite difficult. He had never been good at feigning emotion. "She was," he paused deliberately, as if to make it seem a painful subject for him, "The most beautiful of the angels."

The three rulers looked at each other, silently conferring upon his response. He dared not look up lest his concern for their response appear more genuine than the answer he had just given.

"Lapidus," the Alpha called to him, "You are welcome once more among us. I am honoured to know your true name."

He nodded in thanks but added, "I would prefer if this knowledge of my identity did not leave this group."

The Alpha, king, and queen all nodded in agreement and the Alpha replied, "As it needs to be. You will understand why once I have shared more with you but that cannot happen yet. First you must be made one of us."

At these words the royalty did the last thing he had expected and something that made him quite uncomfortable, they removed their garments, letting them fall at their feet. However, despite his discomfort, the reason they had done this became quite clear. Upon each abdomen was an ornate spiral of the darkest violet. They were not painted or drawn with any mundane writing implement, for they seemed to spiral just slowly enough that he was unsure if they truly moved or if it was a trick of the eye.

Without his asking, the Alpha explained, "These marks are given to those who have recently come to power. They signify our bond and reveal to each other that we know the truth of our past. It takes a very special kind of blood to create this mark and it cannot be replicated by those who would harm us. It ensures that none of us are replaced with imposters. Receiving one is to make a vow that you will do everything in your power to protect us from the angels."

He nodded his understanding, though he did somewhat worry that his interpretation of this vow would be rejected by the magic of such a mark, but he could not give up. Looking into the Alpha's eyes, he felt a stabbing regret. For the first time in his lives, he cared about disappointing another. The pang of regret shifted slightly to include guilt at the lies he had so quickly told. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to accept the situation and look at it without emotion, a task he was sure had been easier even a week prior.

"Lapidus, we will continue to call to you by the name you were given at the birth of this life," she explained further. "I know this is not the ancient custom but we do not wish to risk others learning that you are a Thinker. Will you agree to this?"

He nodded firmly. "Yes. I agree with your concerns."

"Disrobe, Iogrevard," she ordered.

Unhappily but without hesitation, he did as he was told. As he removed his uniform, the three rulers approached him so that all three were within an arm's length. The Draigo of Tatsu handed a sharp blade to the Alpha. She turned to Tryailla who had already extended her arm with her palm facing upwards. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be concentrating upon something unseen. With deliberate force, the Alpha pressed the blade into the woman's offered hand to draw blood across it. As the blood flowed from her palm, Tryailla pressed it firmly against his abdomen.

Warmth radiated outward from her touch and shocked each nerve as it washed over his body. It was painful but not intolerable. By the time she had withdrawn her hands and opened her eyes, he had managed to avoid flinching even once.

"He is not pure but his vow will hold," she remarked.

What did she mean by 'not pure'? Somehow, he felt he had been insulted until the Alpha replied, "None of us has ever been pure."

The Alpha, the Draigo, and Tryailla walked back to their original posts and turned to face him once more. Looking down, he saw that he too now had a spiral upon his abdomen.

The Alpha said, "Iogrevard, the spiral is a spell. Not only does it reveal you to us but it will ensure your adherence to your unspoken vow. By accepting the mark, you have made this vow to us. You belong to us, who will share our secret knowledge. Our ownership of this mark must be obeyed. If you betray us, the mark will kill you. As you are a Thinker, it will seal your thought as well."

Gryp was quite sure his eyes had gone wide at this news for the Alpha shifted to comforting him, "To betray us, you would deliberately have to share these secrets with someone who intends our races harm. So long as you do not do that, you have nothing to fear and I think there are very few Thinkers who would do such a thing." She chuckled as she added, "I hardly expect treachery from you to the level of Shinga or Gryp."

He smiled tightly in false agreement. For a moment, he locked eyes with the old woman and could have sworn she knew. However, if he could not share what he learned with the wolf, he was in far worse trouble than he had feared. His only hope would be to convince Vanagandr that he must accept the situation for Gryp to have any hope of getting closer to the stones. After all, attempting to become Alpha of the race that hated him the most had been Vanagandr's idea. It appeared this would be the price for such a plan.

The Alpha continued to speak. "Now that you have been marked and we have shaped the spell to ensure your vow, we can share our knowledge with you. Seeing as how you are the Lapidus, you may in fact know more than we about the far past. We will be able to update you about what has happened since you last revealed yourself amongst our kind. If you have any questions during our time together, please ask them."

"You said the blood of the mark was special, why?" he asked, still worried about his true task.

All three rulers laughed. "I had not expected such questions to begin today," the Alpha admitted. "I will answer but I think we will end our meeting after that. Our guests," she gestured to her right and left, "Have their own homes to which they must return."

"But the blood?" Gryp pressed.

"The blood of any Tryaillan leader can make the mark," the Alpha offered. "It must be blood that is equally angel and Thinker to work."

With this information, Gryp's mind was ripped back in time to recall the Thinker who had mated with who he had claimed was one of the grown children. Gryp had never lowered himself to bother reading her mind. He had never thought anything of her. Looking abruptly over to the current Tryailla, looking into her violet eyes, he realized the name itself was more significant than simple honour and tradition. The odd practice of incest amongst their rulers all at once made sense.

He nearly fell over. His knees weakened; his thoughts raced. He was able to steady himself physically but his mind continued to churn with this information. He had never known there was an angel amongst them. If he had made any effort at all to look deeper at the situation at the time, he would have known. His arrogance had blinded him then and deprived him of crucial knowledge. Focusing his eyes upon the Alpha standing across from him, he thought of her gifts, how she seemed to be able to read him. At this moment, he realized how lucky he had been not to have gotten in worse trouble long ago. He had been functioning with a blindfold of his own making.

"I will call upon you again," the Alpha said in farewell as the others nodded in acknowledgement to him.

He nodded back, half in a daze, and walked from the archives.

* * *

The blizzard had broken unexpectedly late that morning. The skies cleared quickly, the temperatures dropping with the fleeing cloud cover. To Poria, it still seemed warmer because the wind had ceased too and that was a very rare event on Dominans. In droves, the people left their homes to lavish in the calm, sunny weather.

It was these conditions that turned the quiet attempt of the foreign royalty to leave for their own homes into a fanfare. The people crowded the square in front of the compound gates, watching as the strangely clad visitors emerged on their short walk to the awaiting vessels.

Ciarle, a fresh bruise marking his left eye, ran to Poria's home to tell her what was happening. Poria quickly grabbed one of the bright orange fruits from the basket, planning to enjoy it while she watched, and ran to join the crowds.

The Dragon chariot ship was similar to the Wolf technology. Poria's father had become ever more interested in technology since his injuries. He had once told her that they were mechanical vehicles that utilized captured energy to drive them. She did not know how the Tryaillan ship worked. It was just as small as the Dragon chariot, only able to hold the small retinue of five or six, but it was shaped like a woman standing with her arms over her head but the figure had been place upon its back. The purple stone of which it was made was far different than anything they had upon Dominans. It sparkled in the sunlight.

The Draigo emerged from the gates and disappeared into his ship. Poria had been unable to get a good look at the man aside from an overall impression that he was quite round. Agitated by her poor position, she pushed through the crowd, determined to get closer to the gates where she could see the next group emerge.

The people were talking to each other and cheering at the spectacle, trying to get the foreigners to look at them or take notice. The sounds were far too loud and the jostling of the crowds caused Poria almost to lose her fruit once and her footing twice. As she passed by a particularly boisterous man who smelled as though he had not attempted to clean himself once during the blizzard, she was knocked sideways, losing both her balance and her snack.

The fruit rolled onto the open stones and it took a moment for her to realize her fall had ejected her too from the crowd. It took another moment to realize that silence had fallen. In such a crowded square, the lack of noise caused Poria's heart to do several back flips. Looking down, she realized she was not resting on the stones but a thick fabric softer than she had ever felt. Slowly, she turned her head upward to see Tryailla and the Alpha Looking down at her.

She had landed upon the trailing cloak of Tryailla, who had been saying goodbye to the Alpha. The Alpha was now looking at her feet to see that the bright orb had come to rest against her left heel. The old woman picked up the fruit and looked at it with tight lips before holding it out to Tryailla.

"I believe this is Tryaillan," she said with slight bitterness.

Tryailla took it graciously. She bent down to hand it to Poria. "No. I believe this belongs to this little girl," she said.

Though Poria was not happy to be called little, she was happy to see that the woman was smiling. Being so close, Poria noticed that her eyes were a brilliant violet. Tryailla offered the fruit and her free hand to help Poria stand.

"Thank you, Tryailla," Poria said, not able to keep looking into her strange eyes. Then she added on an impulse, "The orange ones are my favourite."

Tryailla laughed. "What a wonderful girl," she said.

The Alpha nodded tightly. She did not seem comfortable or happy with the interruption.

"What is your name?" Tryailla asked the girl.

"Poria," Poria replied nervously.

"That is a beautiful name. Would you like to see my home, Poria?" she asked. "You can come for a moment or stay as long as you like."

The Alpha was quick to intervene. "I hardly think that appropriate Tryailla. The parents might object to you abducting their child."

Tryailla brushed off the comment. "It would be a simple matter to ask. Send someone to fetch them."

"They are right here!" called a young voice.

All, including Poria turned to see Ciarle pointing at her parents in the crowd. As did everyone else, Poria turned to them and saw that they both looked quite stunned.

"Would you permit your daughter to join me?" Tryailla called. "I promise to return her safely to you."

Her parents nodded but said nothing. Poria was in shock at seeing her mother so stunned. Such a thing had never happened in her entire life.

Tryailla turned to Ciarle, "You may join us too if your parents would permit it. Are they here?"

He shook his head and said, "Thank you, Tryailla, but I know my father would not allow it."

Poria looked up at the woman and noticed her brow creased for a moment but she nodded kindly in acknowledgement of his answer.

After a final diplomatic good-bye to the Alpha, Poria was ushered by Tryailla into the ship through an opening in the side. Her retinue had already boarded and the girl was surprised to see that they were all lying down upon the floor with their eyes closed. The inside of the vessel was featureless.

Tryailla did not move from the opening. She was looking into the crowds. A moment later, her face brightened.

"Where were you, Shiatha?" she asked as a woman not much taller than Poria ran up to the opening.

She had blue eyes and dark blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a thick beige cloak that hid her form.

"I am so sorry," Shiatha said, trying to force a smile from her face. "It will not happen again."

Tryailla nodded. "Thank you," she said. "Please see to our new passenger."

Shiatha looked at Poria and blinked. "You're parents are allowing you to come?" she asked.

Poria was so nervous that she simply stared back without answering.

"She is our guest," Tryailla said. Her voice was firm. "Please treat her as such."

Shiatha blushed. "Yes, Tryailla," she said with a nod. With an open palm, she indicated the others who were lying down. "Please lie down," she instructed.

"I am not tired," Poria replied, thinking as she said it how stupid she sounded.

The woman laughed. "You need only to calm your mind as much as you can. I will manage the rest," she said.

Poria walked over to the only remaining opening on the floor, right next to Tryailla. She did as she was instructed and stretched out onto her back.

Shiatha placed her hands upon the side of the vessel and closed her eyes, the stone moved as liquid and filled the hole through which they had entered. Poria's eyes grew wide. How could she calm her mind after seeing that?

Tryailla turned her head to look at Poria and said, "We will be there in a moment. Keep your mind calm. You have no need to worry. We will return you home the moment you wish it."

Poria could only nod her understanding.

"Close your eyes," Tryailla instructed, "And we will be off."

* * *

Yuje watched as the hole in the Tryaillan ship closed. He clawed, pulled and pushed his way as best he could through the crowd but it was too thick and he was too large to dart between the people. Frantically, he tried to make it before Tryailla left.

He had never met her; he knew very little about Tryailla; yet he was overcome. He had to make it to her. He had to get to Tryailla. Somehow, if he could make it there, he could be safe. Somehow, Tryailla could save him from his nightmares.

As the vessel disappeared before their eyes, he screamed and howled. His animalistic noises drew the attention of those immediately around him. The rest were oblivious over their own din. Those who had heard him backed away as best they could, trying to distant themselves from the insane man.

He was insane. He knew he was insane. That is why he needed Tryailla. More than anything he needed to be rescued. Collapsing to his knees, he screamed again before descending into sobs. Without Tryailla, there was no hope for him.

# Chapter 3

Poria had been convinced she would not sleep but the next moment, Tryailla was telling them they had arrived. It had only been seconds since she had laid her head down as instructed but they could not have travelled so quickly.

Tryailla seemed to understand Poria's astonishment.

"Our ways of travel differ from yours," she said as she helped the girl to her feet.

As they left the vessel, Poria tried to find her footing. She was awed by the soft green earth upon which she stood. Perhaps she had been staring stupidly, for Tryailla squeezed her hand gently to get her attention.

Lifting her chin, she was almost blinded by the sun's reflection off a giant cream-coloured palace. They stood at the base of the steps leading up to it. Poria thought it looked as though it were encased within the faintest bubble but figured she must have been imagining it.

"This is my home," Tryailla explained before waving a hand in the direction of the vessel.

Poria was confused until she saw Shiatha and several others approach it and—to her astonishment—carry it away. As they moved, she realized even more amazingly that they were not touching it but somehow guiding and lifting it all the same.

"Would you like to see inside?" the queen asked to which Poria could only nod emphatically.

As they climbed the stairs, Poria nearly tripped as new distractions grabbed at her attention with each step. Around the palace were green fields and trees in the distance that were even brighter green. It was hot and Poria was finding her familiar clothing becoming quickly heavy and restrictive.

"Where is the snow?" she asked innocently.

Tryailla did not laugh as she explained, "It does not snow here. At least since my ancestors have come here, it has never snowed upon Tryailla and I doubt it ever will."

As they neared the top of the stairs, Poria saw a tall figure, as tall if not taller than Tryailla, waiting for them. He was a man the same age as the woman guiding her. His short, light brown hair shone golden in the sunlight. His features were somewhat androgynous but still pleasing to the eye. His violet eyes turned curious upon the sight of her and she found herself blushing.

"Have you begun to take in orphans?" the man called teasingly.

Without thinking, Poria blurted hotly, "I am not an orphan!" Poria was proud of her family no matter how strict her mother could be.

Tryailla chuckled. "You should be more polite to our guest, Fagan. How does it look for the leader of the cats and my husband to treat others with such disrespect?"

"My apologies," he replied with an exaggerated bow. As they reached the top of the steps, Poria could see the back of his head.

"Get up, brother," Tryailla teased. "This is Poria, my new friend."

"H-h-he is your brother?" Poria stammered. The thought of marrying one of her own brothers horrified her.

Neither Tryailla nor Fagan was offended. Fagan explained, "Upon Tryailla, the kings and queens have always given birth to twins, a boy and a girl, and they have always been joined for the good of the people. We are the only of our kind who practice such things but we have our reasons."

Looking up at Tryailla, Poria said, "You have taken it so well. My brothers are absolutely dreadful."

"I think it is our guests' turn to insult me," Fagan replied dryly.

Poria realized what she had said and felt her blushing deepen and extend to the roots of her hair. Lowering her eyes to the ground, she muttered an apology.

"I like you just fine," Tryailla offered peaceably. "Let us go in. I need to change into something lighter."

This suggestion was accepted eagerly by Poria who was beginning to learn the meaning of sweltering.

As they walked through the Grand Arch, Poria thought that perhaps she had become even more overheated than she had previously thought. When she looked at the large arch itself, she became emotionally overwhelmed. Her guts twisted into a tight knot and she began to feel dizzy. She stared at the smooth stone floor of the great hall and the feeling intensified. The floor was familiar. The arch was familiar. Spinning around, only vaguely aware of the confused questions now coming from her escorts, she looked through the arch once more to the fields below. When they had only a moment ago seemed strange and foreign, they now seemed painfully familiar.

Falling to her knees, she began to cry. The nightmares she had so often tried to ignore threatened to break down the defense of her mind in the daytime. She wanted to escape, to run, but she had nowhere to run. She had no way to get back without help and she wanted no help. She wanted simply to flee. Loss like she had never known in her short life washed over her, ripping at her chest, gnawing its way violently through her heart, making the blood in her extremities go cold. All strength and sense left her as her nightmares broke free, overwhelming her to the point of madness. Her body gave out. Her eyes closed of their own volition. Her last awareness was being lifted into the air.

She came back to the world slowly, carried on a soft melody upon the wind. Though she did not remember any physical exertion, her body ached. She winced as she attempted to move her arms, which prickled as though they had fallen asleep. The song upon which she was floating faltered and stopped. The abrupt end seemed strange so she slowly opened her eyes.

Tryailla was looking down at her, the woman's palm upon her forehead.

"We were just getting ready to send for your parents," the woman explained gently. "I will have Fagan wait until we can talk."

In one fluid motion, she stood, turned, and left. As Poria watched her go, she realized that she was lying upon a long, extremely comfortable chair on a balcony. Looking around, she saw that Tryailla had left through one of the several windowed archways leading into a large room. Inside, there was a pool. In the middle of the pool stood a tall statue of a beautiful woman. Her hands were pressed together above her head. Tryailla walked to two large wooden doors and left through them.

Poria was alone. She was still wearing her familiar clothes and was feeling very hot. Though she was tempted to rise and see what lay beyond the balcony, the heat encouraged her far more convincingly to remain motionless. A sweet and tickling smell permeated the air around her, but she had no idea what could be the source. Dominans smelled of cold, snow, and wet clothes.

She considered what had happened. The pain of the earlier emotions still poked faintly at the edges of her being. The glimpses of death made no sense to her. The large lion's body collapsed upon the ground made no sense to her. She had never been upon Tryailla before and she had never seen a Cat revert, not that she had met any cats before Tryailla.

The fluttering and shifting of fabric brought her back to her immediate surroundings. Turning her head, she saw Tryailla walking back towards her. While Poria had been unconscious, the woman had changed into a long, flowing gown of fabric that was light in both colour and thickness. Poria felt slightly uncomfortable. The garment revealed much more of the woman's curvature than women on Dominans could show under their heavy clothing.

Tryailla let out a deep breath. "Let us discuss what happened to you," she said.

She sat down upon the chair next to Poria and shifted within it so that she could face the girl properly.

"Has that ever happened before?" she asked.

"No," Poria replied before adding quickly, "Yes. Well, not exactly like that. I have always been asleep before."

"Nightmares?" Tryailla clarified. Poria nodded. "Do you mind sharing them with me?"

Though Poria doubted Tryailla would react the same way her parents had to her nightmares, she was not comfortable sharing such gruesome dreams with anyone when she herself had so much trouble making sense of them. Unsure how to deny the queen's request properly, she hugged her knees into her chest and stared at her feet.

Tryailla gave a sigh. It was not from disappointment or frustration, Poria could tell that. It had far too much weight to it. She felt Tryailla was as unsure about the situation as she was.

After several moments of silence between them, Tryailla spoke quietly once more, "Do not feel you must answer any of my questions. You are entitled to keep your dreams to yourself but I do wonder about them. Do they come in flashes? Do they make little sense and yet you find yourself feeling more deeply about them than anything in your waking life?"

Shocked by the intuitive description, Poria lifted her chin from her knees so that she could look at the woman beside her. Tryailla was looking into the distance, showing no sign that she would press the issue.

"How did you know that?" Poria whispered.

Slowly, Tryailla turned her head to look into her eyes. "Do you know the legends of our races?" she asked without explanation.

Poria was confused but replied, "Very little. I know of Shinga and of Gryp. All Wolves know of them. They are why we train though my brother says they are just stories told to justify the military. He says no one can come back to life even if they did exist. My mother insists they lived and that we practice fighting to prepare for their return."

"Perhaps," Tryailla said cryptically before clarifying her question. "I wanted to know if you know who Shinga and Gryp truly were."

"They were a Wolf and a Dragon who turned upon their own people," Poria answered dutifully.

Tryailla gave a half-hearted smile. "I suppose that is what they have become to the masses," she said. "But that is not truly who they were and that does not explain why some would think they could return. Long ago, before Dominans or Tatsu existed, before even Tryailla had been founded, Shinga and Gryp and many others like them lived, and lived, and lived."

"I do not understand," Poria interrupted sheepishly.

"They were able to live more than one life," Tryailla explained. "One of them would be born, live, die, and be born again. The cycle would continue over and over again. Our ancient ancestors would have called them 'Thinkers'. They were thought before flesh and could exist without it, even if bound to it."

If they could not truly die, where were these beings now? Poria wondered to herself. Though she had not spoken the question, Tryailla –whether by logic or something more –seemed to understand her confusion and continued her explanation.

"At the same time Shinga turned upon the other Thinkers, they began to disappear. Thinkers would truly die for the first time. Over centuries, they disappeared one by one. They would die never to be heard from again. We do not know why. We do not know where they have gone or if they went anywhere. They may still be amongst us without our knowledge, staying hidden for their own reasons or because they have simply forgotten their past."

It was these words that made Poria understand why Tryailla was telling her all of this. "These are not memories," Poria insisted. "They are nightmares. Horrible, horrible nightmares."

"Perhaps," Tryailla said with the same unconvinced tone as before. "If you ever wish to share these dreams with me, I may be able to help you determine that for sure."

"You don't even know if these Thinkers still exist. You don't know if they ever existed," Poria continued to insist, realizing that she was sounding much ruder than she would ever have before dared when speaking to such an important person. Tryailla looked at her but said nothing.

After several awkward moments in which Poria was not sure if she should leave or stay where she was, Tryailla relieved the tension. "We have a room for you if you would like to stay, and clothes better suited to our climate. Given the events of our arrival, I would not be offended if you wished to return home."

Though Poria did feel embarrassed, confused, and entirely off her normal footing with the new surroundings, she was terrified she would never get such an opportunity again. "I would like to stay," she replied.

Tryailla clapped her hands together, the sound echoing on the stones. "Excellent. Let me show you to your room."

* * *

A loud pop penetrated the unconscious silence. Yuje's brain was thrown into full awareness of the pain in the side of his head. Softness under the rest of his body only confused him, further slowing the attempt to make sense of his surroundings. The air was suffocatingly stale, feeling as though it coated his tongue as he took a deep breath. With shaking arms, he pushed himself up to see what was beneath him. As his eyes focused upon the white furs below him, a woman spoke.

"You are lucky I happened to be in the square today," she said tartly. "Otherwise you would have frozen to death. No one else would have touched you."

The gravelly tones made him simultaneously relax and bristle. "Hello, Das," he replied, forcing himself into a seated position. She had put him close to the fire; he noticed she had not bothered with a sleeping plank. The reason was explained with another snarky remark from his old guardian.

"Only you would lose your mind so completely as to revert," she insulted as she walked over to him with a tin cup full of the most caustic smelling liquid to have ever assaulted his senses. Thawing excrement had more appeal.

She had always been a rough woman and it often showed on her face. Her deep lines made her look much older. Her hair was greying, dulling what had once been a brilliant dark brown, and he knew that when it had lost all its colour, she would look as old as the Alpha, though she was only 43. Her skin had weathered poorly in their climate and her terse demeanour only emphasized these features. The strain of decades of frowning had caused a permanent crease between her eyes and slight jowls to form upon her cheeks.

Though she was fiercely patriotic, loyally serving the Alpha whenever asked, Das did not have a high rank within society. This had mostly resulted from her main skill being the ability to identify the faults of others rather than showing any talent of her own. After years of attempting to prove herself unsuccessfully to the generals, she was made a healer's apprentice, mostly to keep her out of the way. To everyone's surprise, she had taken to the task quite well, though not as skilfully as the woman who had taught her but well enough to secure a position as a healer of the recruits.

Her harsh personality had become an incentive for the young recruits to work harder to avoid injury. Wounds meant a visit to her and none of her treatments was ever given without the accompanying lecture as to why they were so stupid for having gotten it in the first place.

Yuje had met her under just such circumstances. Like all Wolves, he took part in his mandatory training. For him, it was a welcome change. From his first memories, he had been an orphan. Many people had taken pity on him and fed him or gave him temporary shelter but none had adopted him as their own. This was not uncommon for orphans. The community as a whole saw to it that they were kept alive and so long as that was the case, few cared more. It was not because they did not like him but because they seemed to feel he was doing just fine on his own the way things were.

When Das scolded him for the first time, something that had happened very rarely in his life with no parents to guide him, he took notice. He listened intently and took her advice seriously. This was quite different from the reaction most recruits gave her. After that day, she had taken a much more serious interest in his wellbeing. When the fits started, she was the only one who tried to help him or even wished to remain associated with him. The army had expelled him, society shunned him. He went back to wandering the streets, more insecure and wanting of necessities than ever.

Das could not fully take him into her home. She lived in a tiny closet of a room which doubled as her clinic. The army provided her with only enough supplies to survive herself. However, on the coldest days and nights or when food had been particularly sparse for him or particularly abundant for her, she shared what she could and she was always there to give a lecture whether asked for or not.

As she knelt down next to him and forced the liquid into his mouth, she continued with her scolding. "What have I told you about these fits? You feel one starting, you come straight here. No wandering, just straight to me."

Forcibly restraining his gag reflex, he replied, "I didn't know I was going to have one. I saw the Queen of Tryailla and I barely remember anything after that."

"No excuses," she admonished unfairly. "You simply were not paying close enough attention. You haven't been drinking that remedy I gave you, have you?"

"I don't think anyone is supposed to drink that," he replied quietly, thinking of the concoction of unidentifiable powder she had given for his drinks. It looked like finely ground stone and smelled and tasted no different. She had refused to say what it really was, claiming he would never drink it if he knew, but he had avoided it quite well anyway.

She glared at him but would not be deterred. "You are not like anyone else," she explained. "Other people don't have hallucinations or believe fantasies or lose consciousness and revert."

"What if I am not hallucinating?" he dared to ask. Her moment of shock allowed him to expand upon this question. "What if I am having real visions of the real past? Some believe they lived."

"Stop talking nonsense," she scolded. "Of course Shinga and Gryp could have lived but even those legends do not tell of what you call gods and angels. Not everything imagined has a basis in reality," she pointed out pragmatically.

Though that was quite true, Yuje could not help but feel it did not apply in this case. The emotions were too strong and when he did have visions or dreams, they were far too vivid.

"This latest event has me worried," Das explained. "I think you should stay here for the next few days so we can make sure you will be alright."

He knew why this event worried her more than most. Despite her admonishments, she knew this event had been different. It wasn't a dream or vision but a compulsion and it had taken hold without warning. Even if it had been like the others, the fits were happening more frequently and more vividly. The hints of names were beginning to break into his consciousness. On in particular had made itself quite clear to him though he wished it had not: Lilith.

Forcing himself from that thought, he concentrated upon the events of the day. The frenzy was over but he still felt an incredible urge to go to Tryailla. He had never been there and knew very little about it, but it seemed to sing to him of answers and of hope. Das interrupted his thoughts.

"You need to anticipate these fits better. You don't need any more help becoming a pariah," she said. "People don't like that I still go near you. They don't think I hear them but they talk and they think you are diseased or contagious. Your public reversion will no doubt fuel such talk. I would not be surprised if people claim you will bring Shinga down upon us once more, stealing people from their beds."

Yuje said nothing to this. It was entirely possible what people thought of him was right. He had dreamed several times of a woman named Shinga. It worried him because he seemed to have known her well and in fact been friends with her. If the old stories were true, if she had lived, and if she had massacred entire races; how could he have ever been friends with such a person? What would that make him?

His body ached with his confusion. He needed to know the truth. He needed to find some way to be cured of his growing insanity. Tryailla held the answer but he had no way of getting there. Only one person had enough power to authorize such a journey, the Alpha. Perhaps it was his desperation, perhaps it was simply how strongly the draw of Tryailla pulled at him, but he began to think that maybe she would be his only hope. He would have to speak with the Alpha.

He started to push himself to his feet when Das grabbed his arms with her firm and weathered fingers. "Where do you think you are going? I told you to stay here," she insisted.

"Thank you for your help, Das. I'll come by in a few days," he replied casually as if he were leaving one of their normal visits but doing his best to push passed her to get to the door.

With both palms flat on his chest, she braced her feet against the ground and tried to restrain him. "Have you lost your mind? You might have another fit. You might revert in public!"

"I will be fine," he assured her. "You said yourself that people talk when you are near me. I'll find another place to stay tonight. It will be alright. I can even come back first thing in the morning if you would like."

Unsuccessfully, she continued her attempts to prevent his progress. She was over a head shorter than he was and had not fought in many years, hindering her current attempts. He managed to make his way to the door. He wiggled around her to get it open and twisted his body around it as he said one final jovial good-bye and slammed it shut.

He knew that would not deter her, so he ran as fast as he could down the street and around the corner, hearing her yelling at his back as she attempted to follow. Twisting and turning through the tight buildings of the Quarters, he lost her quickly and was quite sure she gave up not long after as the echoes of her calls died away.

Now he would simply need to get close enough to the Alpha to make his request. None were granted an audience with her without her desire. She did not meet just anyone and given that all the military officers knew his face and his history, it would be unlikely that he would be allowed within the compound walls again. Standing in the dulling light of a grey, winter's twilight, he realized the only possible action open to him. He would have to issue a challenge to her power.

If he got close enough, he might be able to beg forgiveness and explain the truth of his request. She might take pity upon him and not kill him, and, if he pleaded enough, might give him what he needed. If not, he would be dead and his misery ended anyway. Abruptly switching direction, he walked towards the compound gates. There was no preparing for such a plan and no point in postponing it.

* * *

Crouching upon her perch, a craggy ledge of the mountain overlooking the compound, the cloaked woman continued to observe the structure and those wandering around it. It was dark and there was not yet any moonlight but she could see easily enough.

The drones milling about as they closed down the compound for the night intrigued her, not because they were remarkable but because they were so oblivious to what was remarkable.

The compound radiated a strong primal energy. It engulfed the entire structure and even a great deal of the mountain out of which it had been created. It was a protective barrier. She had watched for days as people came and went through the barrier, seemingly oblivious to its presence. Even as she had observed the leaders themselves as they had parted earlier in the day, she saw that they too had been unaware of the variation, the epicenter of which seemed to be focused upon large pillars in the courtyard. Upon their tops, which she could see from her current perch but anyone on the ground would be unable to view, were large purple spirals. The six pillars sat in semi-circular patterns facing each other so that they looked as though they outlined two halves of a circle that had been set slightly apart from each other. The centres of these circles were where the vibrations were at their peak.

No one walked directly over these concentrations of energy. They did not deliberately avoid them but seemed simply to choose paths that circumnavigated them. The cloaked woman was sure that if they were even aware of this minor alteration of their course, they were unaware of why they had made the change.

To her surprise, another concentration of energy became visible. It was centred around the body of a man approaching the gates. It seemed to be radiating from him. She recognized that energy. Though there were some variations from before, it was warm and strong. His emotion was powerful but his thought more so. She knew his legend and her heart leapt. This frozen planet held hope for her after all.

She stood and began to make her way down the mountain. Of all the people on Dominans, there was only one she wanted to speak to more than him.

* * *

Gryp was brought out of his light rest by a banging at his door. It echoed loudly in his new overly large chamber.

The Alpha had kept to her word and seen to it that he was placed in the royal family's quarters. His current room was several times the size of his previous accommodations though he was unsure of why. It was mostly stark except for a large fireplace that kept the space well heated, a pile of wood in the corner nearest the fire, several wooden chairs grouped around a square table in the middle of the room, and a sleeping plank in the corner. The plank was no different than any of the others he had used in his life.

The banging repeated more forcibly. Pulling on the tunic of his uniform, he walked to the door. When he opened it, he was surprised to see the same general who had overseen most of his own training. His name was Folg and he was a large man with a square body and a square face.

"There has been a challenge," he explained without preamble. "The Alpha has instructed you to deal with the matter."

Gryp could not help but notice that the man seemed somewhat amused by the situation and not put out by the change in protocol in the slightest. This was quite unexpected as even the Alpha had anticipated some grumblings about her new procedures for challenges.

"I will prepare immediately," Gryp replied in the same militaristic tone.

As he turned to fetch his uniform, Folg said, "You may not need to bother dressing. I am sure you will be back resting on your plank in a few minutes."

Was that why the general did not mind the change in protocol? The challenger was a joke? Perhaps the generals and other soldiers saw Gryp's role as being the filter for frivolous challenges and perhaps they saw the practicality in such things.

Despite the general's suggestion, Gryp decided to dress anyway. As he belted his uniform, he looked up to see Folg smiling at him.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

Folg shook his head but did not change his expression. "She finally listened to us," he said. "We have been telling her for years that you were wasting your time with the other recruits."

"Thank you," Gryp accepted graciously as he made one finally inspection of his uniform. Seeing that it was in order, he walked to the door to leave.

As he passed Folg, the seasoned man placed a rough hand upon his shoulder and stopped him briefly. "No matter what, the generals are behind you," he said.

Gryp looked into Folg's eyes as he briefly intruded upon the man's mind, confirming that there was no deceit in his words. The loyalty of the army truly did rest with him. That was why they did not care about the changes to their customs. For the time being, Io suited them just fine.

"Thank you," he said again more quietly, trying to convey that he appreciated the show of solidarity.

Gaining their allegiance had not been very difficult but he had no wish to alienate anyone who could help him. An Alpha could rule without any allies if strong enough to defeat any challenger. Gryp could become just such an Alpha but it would be far easier for him to have access to the resources of a large company.

The two men left his room and made their way through the nearly black hallways to the main hall. The room was empty but for the enormous fire in the centre, which was still lit. Usually there were a few soldiers on night duty or, during the non-review months, a few recruits on night training trying to get warm after hours standing in the cold.

Folg grunted. "They must be in the courtyard with the challenger."

As they exited the hall and emerged in the courtyard, they saw that Folg was right. A large group of men had gathered and were standing in a loose circle around a lone man. As Gryp neared the edge of the circle, he saw why so many had gathered and why each and every one looked amused.

Standing alone was Yuje, looking as beleaguered and crazed as any of them had remembered. Gryp did not know him personally. He had never trained with him because it had been Gryp's first year as a recruit when Yuje had been expelled for losing his mind.

The soldiers and recruits would see him wandering the streets from time to time, sometimes one or two yelling out an insult on a dare from friends. Though most stayed away due to fearing him diseased, they still saw Yuje as a joke.

Gryp stepped forward, separating himself from the others who had gathered. "You truly want to issue a challenge?" Gryp asked, thinking it would be easier to ignore Yuje entirely and simply go back to bed.

"Yes," Yuje said defiantly. "Why has the Alpha not been brought out? Where is she?"

Gryp sighed but so quietly no one else noticed. "I am your opponent," he explained.

Yuje's eyes grew wide and his jaw tensed. "I am not going to fight you," he yelled. "I came to see the Alpha face to face and I am not leaving until she answers my challenge."

The words Yuje had used tickled at Gryp's brain. He wanted to see her, not fight her. This was a ploy to be granted an audience. Why? Gryp probed his opponent's mind only to find he could not penetrate it. Involuntarily, he raised an eyebrow.

"You may challenge her if you defeat me," he explained calmly.

"I will not fight you!" Yuje screamed.

For a moment, Gryp said nothing. He wanted to know why he could not read this man. It would not be the first time. It would be only the second in this life, the first being only a week earlier when meeting the Alpha herself. However, Yuje's challenge could not be ignored without losing face before the same general who had just pledged his loyalty.

"Sword," Gryp said calmly and without taking his eyes off Yuje. Immediately the handle of a long blade was placed into his outstretched hand.

Though Yuje appeared to get angrier, he did not have another tantrum about the situation. He shifted his weight to get a better footing and flexed his empty hands.

"Coming unarmed to a challenge either means you are stupid or wishing to die," Gryp called as he too found surer footing.

"Killing me would only be a rescue," Yuje replied.

The men ran at each other. Gryp kept his sword low, intending to bring it up in a swift motion somewhere between Yuje's ribs. Yuje, the crazed look in his eyes more obvious than ever, simply ran with his hands outstretched. Gryp could not believe he had no plan, that someone whose mind was so unique seemed so entirely unimpressive.

At the last moment, right as Gryp was moving his arms to bring the sword to its intended target, two things happened. The first was a split second flash of something. Neither Gryp nor Yuje seemed to identify what it was but both men looked into each other's eyes and both men looked wild and confused by the flash. Whatever it was, it had formed something tangible, something that Gryp's knife had hit before it reached Yuje's flesh. It had stopped his sword.

The second was Yuje's body arching in pain. His face turned upwards and his scream drowned out all other noise as he fell to his knees.

Gryp did not understand it. He had not hit him. There was no injury upon his opponent yet he now lay sprawled and writhing on the ground screaming. His screams struck fear and shock into Gryp's heart. He did not scream just animalist noises. He screamed words.

"Stop, Lilith! Stop!" the man yelled over and over again as passionately as one who was about to be broken.

Gryp knew who Lilith was and he also knew how significant it was to have a person who knew her name flailing upon the ground at his feet.

The surrounding crowd looked around at each other. They murmured about what they witnessed but none dared come any closer. Gryp looked around too but not at the soldiers gathered.

The attack or whatever it was had not come from Yuje. He seemed a victim of it even if it had prevented Gryp from killing him. Finally, he saw it—or rather, her. A cloaked female figure stood just within the ajar gates.

"Capture her!" he bellowed to the soldiers surrounding him and pointed to the gates. "She did this!"

With his order, those gathered were no longer murmuring worried theories to each other but running towards the gate. The woman did not run but within a blink, she had disappeared. The soldiers nearly fell and tripped over each other as the force of their shock stopped their advance. They stared at where she had been.

"Awake the Alpha," Gryp yelled to Folg who nodded quickly as he turned on his heel and ran into the main building. "Help me carry Yuje into the hall," Gryp ordered to the nearest two men. Neither moved, looking at Yuje nervously. Though Gryp got glimpses from their minds indicating their fear of old legends, he did not have time to care about their superstitions.

"Fine," he grunted. "I will do it."

Dropping the sword which clanged noisily as it hit the stone, he lifted the still writhing Yuje into his arms and carried him into the hall. He did not know where the figure had gone but he felt it important to get both of them inside and hopefully out of harm's way.

As Gryp laid Yuje upon the floor near the fire, he tried to bring him back to sanity, or at least as close as Yuje could get. "Yuje!" he screamed as he slapped him across the face. "Yuje!"

Yuje's writhing and screaming subsided but he looked around feverishly, confused. "Who is Yuje?"

"What are you talking about?" Gryp scoffed. "You are Yuje."

Yuje shook his head as he tried to sit up. He shook his head slowly as if he could not make sense of the situation, as if he considered Gryp's words and believed them but, at the same time, knew Gryp was wrong. "I am Lapidus," he said.

Gryp's blood ceased moving through his veins. For one of the few times in his life, he felt the chill of the air. Then, he became distinctly aware of his surroundings as he heard a shuffle upon the stones. He looked up to see the wide-eyed Alpha standing next to Folg. She had heard him.

# Chapter 4

"I am telling you it is not possible," Gryp insisted as he paced before the fire in the Alpha's personal chambers. The room was almost exactly like his except the central table was very large and ornately carved. The carvings made the feet look like wolf paws and there were wolf heads around the moulding supporting the table top. Several large sheets of vellum covered in wolfish writing lay upon it.

"He claims he is Lapidus and not just anyone could know that name. The names of all but Shinga and Gryp have been lost. Only those with the mark know of the others. I am sure even Shinga and Gryp's notoriety has its bounds on Tryailla and Tatsu," the Alpha reasoned. After her initial shock had subsided, she had switched to her usual pragmatic manner in addressing the situation.

"Who is he?" Gryp asked as he continued to pace. "Why is he claiming to be Lapidus?" He was quite sure the man was Lapidus but the situation was too dire for him to admit this fact openly.

"There is a simple way to tell, Io" the Alpha reasoned. "We subject him to the same test we did you."

This was the last thing that Gryp wanted to see done. It would confirm Yuje had been Lapidus and then the curious question of who he really was would be raised. "Are you saying you do not believe me?" Gryp asked, pretending to be offended rather than worried. "I passed that test without problem if you recall."

The Alpha nodded. "You did but there are always other possible explanations for what is going on." She looked into his eyes and Gryp had the same unsettling feeling that she somehow knew the truth. If she did, why had she not yet revealed it?

"I will send for him," the Alpha continued as she walked to the door. She opened it enough to poke her head around it and gave her instructions to the recruit standing outside. After closing it, she walked to one of the chairs by the fire and sat down. "And what of this woman you saw? Do you know who she was?" she asked.

Gryp shook his head but said nothing.

"Could she have been an angel or ..." she hesitated.

Having someone other than Vanagandr speak to him about angels and gods was unsettling. He had never before been able to be so open about what he knew of the secret war. He could not completely let down his guard but he finally had someone with whom he could share his theories.

"I do not know what she was," Gryp reiterated before adding, "But after her interference, Yuje yelled something worrisome."

"Folg said he was screaming in pain. What did he say?" she asked, shifting in her seat.

"He screamed Lilith's name," he replied.

The Alpha's face drained of colour. She knew the significance of that name. The two said nothing for many moments until there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," called the Alpha.

Two nervous soldiers, obviously not pleased with their task, escorted Yuje into the room.

"You may leave," she instructed the soldiers who wasted no time in following her orders, nearly slamming the door shut behind them.

Yuje looked mostly calm but there was a slight twitchiness to his movements that was reminiscent of a frightened animal. The Alpha pushed herself out of her chair and walked to stand before him. She examined his face for a moment, looking at every detail.

"Who are you?" she asked firmly.

Looking at Gryp quickly, Yuje seemed unsure how to respond. He had seemed so sure he was Lapidus earlier but as he stood before them now, he appeared to be having an identity crisis. Falling to his knees, he began to sob. "I don't know!" he cried.

"Are you Lapidus?" the Alpha pressed.

Yuje looked up at her. "I think so," he said.

"Do you know who Lapidus is?" she asked again.

Yuje started to nod but the nodding gradually changed into a firm shaking of his head. "I don't know anymore. I am Lapidus. I am Yuje!"

He fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands on the floor as he sobbed again.

The Alpha was unmoved by his emotional breakdown, determined to get to the bottom of the matter. "Who is Lilith?" she demanded.

Yuje's body stilled. "Fear itself," he whispered into the stones.

The Alpha looked at Gryp then back at Yuje. She asked another question, one Gryp had heard before, "Who is the rabbit?"

Yuje returned to sobbing and shook his head violently. "I don't know. I don't know," he repeated.

"Why did you come tonight? Why did you wish to challenge me?" she demanded, her ire growing with the lack of helpful information. Gryp could not be sure but he suspected she had the same problem as he in trying to read Yuje's mind.

"Tryailla," Yuje gasped through the wracking of his body. "I need to get to Tryailla."

"Why?" she demanded with as much force as before.

Still shaking his head, he pleaded, "Please. Tryailla. I don't know. I need to get to Tryailla. Please!"

Letting out a heavy and irritated sigh, she turned from Yuje to face Gryp. "We will get nothing out of him in this state though you were right that it is not possible for him to be Lapidus. Perhaps he is another who is confused with the memories returning. I leave him in your care."

Gryp nodded, relieved and surprised at the lucky turn of events. His relief was short lived.

He could not help but look at the weeping mess that was likely Lapidus upon the floor. How had such a strong Thinker come to this? What had happened to him? Was it Lilith? Had Lapidus come up against a god and lived? As the questions swirled in his mind, he helped Yuje to his feet and guided him back to his own room in the royal quarters.

Gryp offered Yuje his plank, Yuje refused and began to sob. All Gryp could do was ease the man down into the corner where he continued to cry for some time. Gryp tried to make the situation appear normal so as not to exacerbate Yuje's condition. He went to his own plank and pretended to sleep. Even pretending to settle was difficult when his mind was churning with what had happened. He did not want to be babysitting. He needed to summon Vanagandr. He did not dare do so in front of Yuje.

When he was sure that his new roommate was resting deeply enough to be unaware of his surroundings, he quietly got up from his plank and snuck out of the room.

He worked his way to the archives. It was the only place he knew he would be undisturbed at that time in the night. The Alpha spent much of her days in the large repository but had confessed to him that she found it difficult to work through the night in recent years. Though the journey to his destination was not a short one, it passed in a moment because his mind was distracted with the events of the evening.

With Yuje's fragile sanity, Gryp had decided to work the situation to his advantage. He would pretend to be understanding and reassuring while guiding Lapidus' emergence into remembering an altered past that suited his own purposes. As Yuje seemed so frightened and unsure, he could convince him that some of his memories were true while others were not. It would ensure that Gryp's own lies would not be revealed while also protecting him from the wrath of Lapidus who would no doubt find a way to offer him up to the gods himself if he knew the truth.

However, it was not Yuje that worried Gryp the most. Yuje's fits and glimpses of the past he understood well enough to know what he wanted to manipulate.

It was the woman. She was an entirely new factor. Was she another Thinker? Seeing as how she acted to protect Yuje, could she have been Ashyina? Perhaps someone else entirely? Or worse, given Lapidus' obvious history and experience with Lilith, was she an angel or perhaps the goddess herself?

Though he lacked the information to dismiss the last thought entirely, he did not think it likely. With what he knew of the arrogance of the gods, he doubted Lilith would bother with such mundane tasks. Even if she did choose to show herself, he doubted she would do so as quietly and secretly as the woman he had seen.

Standing in the middle of the large archives, Gryp called out Vanagandr's name. The wolf did not hesitate, perching himself atop the same raised platform the Alpha had used when initiating him.

The wolf looked around. "Why have you summoned me to such a public location?" the wolf growled low.

"Stop worrying," Gryp replied dismissively. "It is the middle of the night. No one will interrupt us."

"The Alpha?" Vanagandr pressed.

"She almost never comes to the archives at night," Gryp reasoned.

The wolf growled low again. " _Almost_ never. Such a night that would cause you to voluntarily call upon me seems exciting enough to be one to keep the leader of an entire race awake with a racing mind, perhaps even in need of research to settle her concerns."

"She did not seem concerned when she put Yuje in my charge," Gryp explained. "I could not summon you in my room because she has me looking after an insane man."

"Enough of your stupidity," Vanagandr barked. "Follow me."

Turning, the wolf faced the wall behind the platform. It looked entirely featureless but a moment later, a section that resembled a large door in size and shape, pulled forward and slid silently to one side, revealing a dark passageway. Vanagandr squeeze through the tight opening.

Gryp followed. The moment he was fully inside the passage all became dark as the door closed silently behind him. He could hear the wolf's wings scraping the walls as he navigated the turns in the darkness. Gryp did his best to follow and was managing despite running into solid rock several times.

Finally, after several moments, Vanagandr emerged into a large room and stretched out his wings. Though there was no obvious light source, the entire room had an ambient glow just bright enough to illuminate the entire space evenly so that he could see the floor, walls, ceiling, and Vanagandr clearly.

Directly across from the doorway in which Gryp stood was another opening leading to another darkened hallway. Across the room to his right, a third opening to yet another darkened hallway was visible. The sound of rushing water from the newly melted ice and snow indicated it led to the underground drains.

The wolf was now sitting in the centre of the room, waiting for Gryp to approach. As he did, the wolf gestured to the silent dark corridor with his nose.

"That corridor leads to your room," he said. Gesturing to the opening behind him which was still echoing the rushing water, he added, " _That_ corridor leads to the drainage canals. You can use it to escape. Only those whose energies I have accepted will be able to see the doors, halls, and room as they really are. Any who I would not wish to find this place will see only blank walls and be aware of nothing more than solid rock. We will meet here from now on. Now, why have you summoned me?"

Gryp explained as briefly as he could. "Tonight, a man issued a challenge to the Alpha. While I was attempting to fight him, two things happened: a cloaked woman snuck into the courtyard and used energy to shield him from my blow and this energy seemed to affect him negatively so that he began to beg Lilith for mercy."

The wolf considered for a moment before asking, "Do you know who the man is?"

Gryp nodded. "Though it is still possible I am wrong, I believe he is Lapidus," he said.

Though Vanagandr kept his demeanour steady, Gryp noticed a slight widening of his stone eyes. However, the angel continued without hesitation, "And the woman?"

Gryp shook his head. "I don't know."

"What did she look like?" the wolf continued to probe.

This irritated Gryp. If he had seen her face, he would have described her already. Did the wolf think him stupid even after all these years? "She could have been Lilith herself for all I know," Gryp half whined, half yelled.

"Impossible," Vanagandr said simply. "She cannot tread here. Very few gods can step upon Dominans. Most who could have are dead or missing. The others would never risk it."

This news must have disturbed the angel more than he had first indicated for Gryp was not accustomed to having such information shared with him. At the same time, this new information made little sense.

"What are you talking about?" Gryp asked angrily. "There were abductions for years until all the Thinkers were taken."

Without lifting his head, the wolf's eyes focused upon Gryp. "And is it the gods who abducted the Thinkers?" he asked. "I thought you would have realized such a simple fact after so much time."

Gryp realized what he meant. It was the angels who were sent to take the Thinkers even if it was under the orders of the gods. What was more interesting to him however was that Dominans was a place of limitation for the gods. He had learned long ago that Tryailla was just such a place. The gods, even the angels, could not find that planet let alone set foot there.

"Does this apply to Tatsu?" Gryp asked quietly.

The wolf nodded but added, "But it was not always so for that planet. The gods could not come to Dominans long before even the first of your kind came here. It was the only planet that was so until your kind."

"Out of the entire universe, we happened to stumble upon the one natural safe haven?" Gryp scoffed. He was beginning to suspect his constant guardian was playing games with him.

"Stumble?" the wolf seemed to ask himself. "Not quite."

Gryp recognized the tone and demeanour. Vanagandr was finished with being forthcoming for the night so he returned to the more pressing topic. "What are we going to do about this woman?" he asked. "She could be a real problem for us."

"You will do nothing for now," Vanagandr growled and disappeared.

Such abrupt departures were not uncommon. Gryp wondered if it had something to do with being recalled by his god, who, even after all this time, Gryp was no closer to identifying.

Grumpily, he decided to walk back to his room. He needed to get some rest. There were weeks of working with Yuje ahead of him.

# Chapter 5

Yuje kept himself huddled in the darkest corner of Iogrevard's room. Every day for over two weeks, he had been offered a plank on which to rest, even food and other hospitalities. He refused the food for several days. He had never accepted the plank or anything else offered.

His plan had not gotten him what he wanted. It had not even resulted in his death. The unexpected outcome was difficult to grasp.

He had called himself Lapidus, believed himself to be Lapidus, yet he now had no concrete concept of who such a person was. The conviction of his identity had been so fleeting. The return to the depths of ignorance was becoming too much to take. Through it all, there was one thing that made him thankful: his new guardian was very understanding.

Iogrevard would ask him questions and try to start a conversation every night but he did not act irritated when Yuje remained silent. He would offer solace and reassurance that Yuje was safe and would not be cast out. He asked for little. Finally, one night, Yuje decided to answer.

"Were the fits why you were expelled from the military?" Iogrevard asked conversationally as he ate his dinner at the small table.

Yuje nodded. "I had one of my fits during a training session," he explained.

Iogrevard stopped eating and pushed is bowl away and looked at Yuje for several heartbeats. Yuje was not sure if this was his reaction or if he had simply had enough food. Iogrevard ate little and often stopped eating abruptly saying the food did not agree with his stomach. He would always rub it for several minutes afterwards, which he was now doing.

Then he got up and walked over to one of the chairs near the fire. He sat down. "Was it like tonight?" he asked.

Yuje was unsure how to answer at first but finally decided to admit his shortcomings. "I don't know," he replied. "I don't often remember them. Das tells me I sometimes scream random names. Other times I beg for help. In the fit during training, I mentioned the name of Shinga. That was when people started to say I had some kind of disease. I think they believe I will somehow bring her back to kill us all."

With these last words, he tried to pull his feet more tightly against his body. He found Iogrevard easy to talk to but physically he still felt like a trapped animal. The pressure of the surrounding walls upon his back and sides felt reassuring.

Letting out a large sigh, Iogrevard clasped his hands over his stomach and tilted his chin to the ceiling. "The superstitious will believe much," he said.

"You don't believe Shinga existed then?" Yuje asked, surprised. He had heard of Iogrevard's progress through the ranks, few had not, so he had expected him to be an unthinking follower of the old traditions and beliefs.

Lowering his chin, Iogrevard looked at him for a moment with the unmistakeable expression of evaluation. After several more seconds, he answered, "I know our history perfectly and I know what is really worth fearing."

Something within Yuje was stirred at these words but he said nothing as the gnawing worked its way deeper inside him. Finally, it found what it sought and wrenched the name "Lilith" to the surface. With this discovery, he remembered his fit in the courtyard though vaguely.

"Who is Lilith?" Iogrevard asked seriously to Yuje's surprise.

Yuje must have looked as shocked as he felt, for Iogrevard added, "You just whispered it. You said the name in the courtyard as well, screamed it at the top of your lungs."

Though Yuje now remembered the name, and even the horrible fear and desperation he had felt before, the face or even the person to whom the name belonged refused to surface. "I don't know," he replied quietly. "I only know that I fear her beyond anything."

"Why did you want to go to Tryailla?" Iogrevard probed further.

Yuje looked into his eyes. The man was incredibly difficult to read but it was obvious he knew more than he was saying.

"Answers," Yuje replied simply. "Somehow, I know that I will get my answers there. And yet," he sighed. "I also know I will be safe there. When I think of Lilith and I think of Tryailla, I feel I would be safe."

Realizing how crazy he was sounding even to himself, he stared down at his feet. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I don't even know what is happening in my own head. It isn't fun living with insanity."

Iogrevard stood and walked over to his plank. He removed his boots and turned his body to rest upon it. "You would be surprised how sane you sound to me," he replied after closing his eyes. "I think there is truth in your fits but it has gotten confused. In the next few weeks, we can work together to sort it out. Now get some rest."

Yuje stared at the fire, not responding and not doing as instructed but remaining quiet and still. The offer of help from Iogrevard was welcome. It was wonderful to have the hope of answers, but something felt wrong about it. Trying his best but unsuccessfully to push the apprehension aside, he closed his eyes. He may not rest, but he at least wanted to clear his mind.

* * *

It had been over two weeks since Poria had come to Tryailla. Though there were great and wonderful things to see in the Cat's culture –many of the people could move things using only their thoughts and much of their everyday items were formed through magical means rather than through laborious, mundane tasks – she found herself feeling unsettled in the new surroundings. Once the novelty had worn away, the strange feelings of loss and wanting to escape returned. Though she had never noticed it before, Dominans felt welcoming to her despite the uncomfortable cold. Tryailla felt closed off no matter how much the smiling people tried to include her and share with her.

There had been no other incidents of waking nightmares since the first day but that was little comfort. She still avoided looking at the entrance of the great hall, for she could not shake the vision of the dead lion upon the flagstones. She still had no idea what the vision meant. Her nightmares had not progressed even though the familiar forms had not ceased torturing her for a single night. The same old dreams repeated without revelation.

With bleary eyes, she pulled herself into a sitting position upon the hard floor. She was not used to sleeping on the floor but it was better than the soft bed. She had tried to sleep in the bed the first several nights. At first, the softness was too foreign for her body to relax, but on the fifth night, she slept well, better than she had ever slept in her life. She had been distressed to find upon waking that she had slept so deeply that she had reverted. She vowed right then that she would never sleep in the bed again.

She peeked over the edge of the mattress. On the other side were two large windows. She knew they overlooked the meandering mountain valleys behind the palace but from her current position, she could only see the blue sky. The ceiling in her room was extremely high, as tall as two of her homes piled on top of each other, and the large windows went straight up to meet it.

A set of double doors were on the wall across from the end of the bed. They were carved –or more likely in Tryailla's case, formed –with tiny flowers covering the surface. On either side of these doors stood two large armoires which were filled with clothes Tryailla had offered her. She knew she would not take any of them home. They were entirely impractical for such a cold climate on top of the fact that Poria was sure her mother would be disgusted by the vanity. Despite this, she could not help but marvel at their beauty every time she opened the doors to choose her outfit for the day.

Getting to her feet, she decided to do just that. She chose a long, pale green gown with slits up both sides and matching loose pants to go beneath it. The neckline curved and dipped into a point just below her collar bone and was adorned along the edges by pale green thread that sparkled like a melting icicle in the sunlight. The rest of the garment was plain, which suited her just fine even though Tryailla had tried to insist many times upon something more ornate being added to it. The sleeves were short, which made Poria slightly self-conscious because she was used to garments that covered more but also made her thankful when the afternoon would inevitably become unbearably warm.

Once dressed, Poria left her room, which was located in the quarters between the halls of Water and Spirit. As she made her way to the great hall for breakfast, every person she passed smiled warmly and said a greeting. Sheepishly, she nodded in reply each time, still uncomfortable with the foreign customs.

Just before reaching the Great Hall, Shiatha walked around a corner and nearly crashed into her. Poria noticed she looked very well dressed even for Tryailla. She was wearing a pale pink dress that went to the floor. It hugged her waist and hips. A silver cord criss-crossed over her abdomen and was tied over one hip. There were only wisps of fabric hanging at her shoulders for sleeves. Her hair was styled in intricate curls and braids atop her head with small pink and blue flowers placed in the curves. She even smelled like the flower gardens as she walked by.

Despite her appearance, her gaze was distant. She did not appear to notice that she had nearly had a collision with Poria. She continued to walk down the hallway in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Poria had no idea what could be wrong. Tryaillan people wanted for nothing.

Shrugging her shoulders, she continued to the Great Hall and saw that most of the inhabitants of the palace had eaten and left for the day with only a few still finishing their meals.

As she surveyed the short tables, she saw a small group of five people seated together, speaking in hushed tones. These were the mages. The Earth mage saw Poria looking at them causing her to avert her gaze hastily.

Tryailla had explained that the mages took care of the elemental halls and sometimes even acted as representatives for the Wolves and Dragons when warranted. They were the best magicians upon Tryailla. Poria found them very intimidating. She had been introduced to them and they had been kind but she had been too nervous to approach them on her own since.

The Earth mage was a thick jawed man named Alder who was quiet but pleasant. He tended to listen more than speak. Tryailla had told her that few ever knew what he was thinking. He had short, dark brown hair and green eyes, which Tryailla had said suited the symbolism of his position. Poria was not entirely sure what she had meant.

It was a surprise to learn that this docile man was the representative for the Wolves when no other diplomat was present, as was currently the case. All Wolves of high rank were recalled during the month of recruit reviews to take part in the process.

The mage of Air was a pleasant woman with long blond hair and blue eyes with a round face and body. She was named Entien. Though she was nearing middle age, her demeanour and apparent imperviousness to aging resulted in her looking to be not much older than Poria herself. Though this illusion lessened when one listened to her speak. Poria found she had little in common with the woman who was quite dedicated and focused when it came to her duties.

The Fire mage looked very similar in appearance to the mage of Earth with only slight differences in the angles of his features. Poria had learned that the similarity was because they were brothers. The fire mage, who was named Andred, was the younger of the two. Unlike his brother, he did not reside in the palace all the time. He lived with his lover in a home they had made further down the meadows from the Palace. He came to the Palace during the day or when otherwise requested.

He was also very different from his brother in personality, having a very boisterous sense of humour which was only amplified by his booming voice. He dominated any conversation in which he chose to participate.

He too acted as a representative when required but he answered to the Dragons. Though the Dragon representative was currently upon Tryailla, or so Poria had been informed, he had taken ill and was unable to make any public appearances.

The mage of water was named Nira and was a willowy woman with long brown hair that she often wore loose but at the moment had braided down her back. Her eyes were a difficult colour to distinguish, sometimes appearing blue, others green, and sometimes simply grey. She was like the mage of Earth, observing more than interacting. Her eyes always appeared to be evaluating what was going on around her. She too did not live in the palace at night but lived alone somewhere beyond the distant hills that could be seen from the palace steps. No one knew exactly where she lived except for Tryailla for she preferred to be a hermit when permitted to indulge her need for isolation.

The Spirit mage was the youngest of the group, a young man who had just come to adulthood and was only a few years older than Poria herself. His name was Pasc. He had short brown hair, brown eyes, and very little muscle. It had surprised her to learn that he had been made a mage at the same time as the others almost a decade prior, making him the youngest mage ever to serve Tryailla.

Poria felt sorry for him. He seemed to want to be happy and tried his best to be pleasant, but more often than not he withdrew inside himself, becoming disconnected and indifferent. Tryailla had confessed after she had introduced them that she too worried for the boy. She did not fear for his skills as a mage. He was the most skilled of any of them at magic when he was focused upon a task. She worried because of the pain he seemed intent to force upon himself. She said there was something within his energies that felt searching, like he had lost something important to him and had been unable to regain it despite his best efforts. No one knew what that could be for his childhood had been happy even after he had been dedicated to his hall.

Each mage wore long robes in the colour of their element though the thickness or cut of the fabric appeared to vary with each person and even with each day for some of them. Though Poria felt quite cool in her light garments, it must have been considered a chilly day upon Tryailla. All the mages except Nira were wearing robes made of thick, heavy fabric.

Walking to an abandoned table far from the mages, Poria saw a large unattended bowl of rolls and plucked one from the top of the pile. As she sat down, she reached out to a neighbouring plate to select a handful of bright yellow berries that had become a favourite.

In the first days after her arrival, the food had not agreed with her very well, resulting in her wanting to avoid it altogether but hunger had finally driven her to eat more of the foreign offerings. Now, she had little problem with the food and quite enjoyed the yellow berries that had originally caused her stomach so much discomfort. They were the perfect balance of bitter and sweet to tease the taste buds.

"Good morning," she heard a woman call to her and turned to see Tryailla smiling as she approached. After the weeks of being hosted by Tryailla personally, Poria had begun to suspect that Tryailla's efforts had something to do with her attack of waking nightmares on the first day. The woman never once mentioned it again but Poria found it odd that the leader of an entire race would spend their days entertaining a little girl, making her feel as important as any diplomat.

Tryailla sat beside her and took a roll for herself. "Are you feeling well?" She asked conversationally.

Poria was forced to nod in the affirmative rather than speak as she had just taken a larger than normal bite from her bread.

"Are you up for an experiment today?" Tryailla was trying to sound as casual as she had for the previous question, but there was a slight drop in her tone that hinted at apprehension for Poria's answer.

For several moments, Poria stared at the grain of the wood table in front of her, not chewing the lump of bread still in her mouth. She was unsure of what would be the wisest answer.

Tryailla seemed to have realized she had been discovered.

"Will you trust me?" She asked kindly and almost pleadingly.

Her humbleness was not something Poria had ever thought a leader possessed and it made her look up at Tryailla out of curiosity. The woman's eyes were serious but there was no demand behind them. She truly would have honoured whatever answer Poria gave.

With a large swallow of bread, Poria nodded in the affirmative again and tried to choke out, "I will," but ended up sounding more strangled than speaking.

Having received the answer she had hoped for, Tryailla stood, leaving her roll on the table, and held out her hand. "Please come with me, I would like to begin immediately," she said.

Taking the woman's strong hand, Poria followed.

Tryailla gestured to the mages who stood from their places to join them. She led them to the large doors in the centre of the arc of the Great Hall.

There were five closed doorways around the semi-circular perimeter. Between each were archways leading to the accommodations. There was one exception. To the right of the doors to which they were now headed. There was no archway. There was the largest fireplace Poria had seen in her life. Framing the opening were carved figures of all the races she knew and two she did not.

The large doors appeared to open on their own as they approached but Poria was sure one of the group, whether Tryailla herself or one of the mages, had used her mind. It looked as though they were going to walk into nothingness as the Great Hall had been so bright and the one which they were entering was so dark.

Poria became even more nervous, her heartbeat increasing speed with each step. There was a slight squeeze of her hand as Tryailla tried to reassure her without words.

After the group had entered the hall, the doors shut.

At first, Poria thought the hall was raven black but after only a few heartbeats, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. They were in another long hallway, this one with simple stone pillars lining the length of it; their lack of decoration reminded her more of the architecture of home than anything she had seen thus far on Tryailla. On the pillars were torches that burned so low they gave very little light. From the entrance, the hall looked endless as it extended beyond the light and seemed to dissolve into nothingness. As they approached the end, however, Poria saw that it was finite. Small steps led up to a slightly raised platform, behind which was a featureless stone wall.

Tryailla led Poria to the top of the platform. She had her stand in the middle and instructed Poria to stand still. Without being told, all the mages but Pasc stood around her, one along each edge of the platform. Pasc waited at the base of the steps where he was joined by Tryailla.

Poria did as she was told but kept her eyes moving to see what the mages were doing. Slowly, each person began to raise their arms until they held them high in the air above their heads. Even Tryailla copied this movement.

Andred was standing along the side of the platform in front of her, Tryailla and Pasc at his back. His eyes were closed. He and the others did nothing more that Poria could see but after several moments, she noticed he had beads of sweat dripping down his face. After several more minutes, his face strained as if his effort was becoming too much.

Poria could not understand it. Nothing was happening. None of them were moving and she could not see, hear, or feel anything. She was at the height of her confusion when they began to lower their arms. Andred looked extremely relieved to be doing so.

The mages faced Tryailla and she looked at each of them in turn, nodding as if listening to a conversation. Finally, she turned her attention back to Poria and ascended the stairs. She stopped an arm's length in front of the girl.

"They have confirmed my suspicions. If you want to know, I will tell you. If not, you may leave," Tryailla said. Her face was tense and her tone rough.

Poria swallowed. "What will happen if you tell me?" She whispered.

Her eyes darted to the others in the room. They had moved to stand near each other and were watching her every move. Pasc especially did not look impassive but quite concerned with the conversation. The space between his eyebrows was creased and he kept flexing and relaxing his fingers.

Letting out a deep sigh, Tryailla answered, "Several things might happen. There are still things we do not know but you must consider carefully. There must be measures taken either way."

Tryailla looked almost miserable, something Poria had never yet seen. "What measures?" she asked the woman.

"I cannot tell you without you knowing everything. I will say this: if you choose not to know, we will honour that and ensure your life is as normal as you ever thought it would be. If you choose to know, your life will never be as it once was. You will not be permitted to live with your family ever again. You will become the ward of the Alpha and she will decide how to proceed. Given certain events, she may choose for you to remain with us or even to be taken to Tatsu. It will be her decision for the time being."

These words were terrifying. Poria had always been curious, always thought there could be more and always wondered why there was such allegiance to the Alpha. If there was something special about her, she wanted to know what it was but she did not want to become anyone's captive and that is what she was being offered. Neither option was fair.

She had absolutely no idea what to say. To her relief Tryailla showed her usual intuitive compassion.

"You may have some time to consider your answer," she offered. "Please leave the Hall of Spirit. Enjoy the palace and all of Tryailla and come to me when you have made your decision."

"What if I cannot make one?" Poria asked, wide-eyed.

Tryailla was saddened again. "As much as I dislike putting this upon such a young girl, you must decide. There can be no other way. Until you have made your decision, you will not be permitted to return home."

This terrified and enraged Poria. "The Alpha will demand my return!" she protested. She was not even sure she was right, but the Alpha had never been pleased to see her people leave for Tryailla and at this moment she had to believe it was true.

Shaking her head, Tryailla replied, "I will be informing her of the situation and I am certain she will agree with me."

Tryailla started to say an apology but Poria did not hear it. Her wild, riling emotions thundered in her ears and she pushed past the large woman and ran from the hall. The desire to escape had returned. The feelings she had had upon entering the palace the first time flooded back. She felt trapped and overwhelmed. Bursting into the great hall, she turned to run for the Grand Arch only to crash into something firm and fall to the ground.

Shaking her head clear, she looked up to see Fagan. He was looking down at her and seemed slightly confused at first but then, as if he were immediately aware of everything going on, looked as sad as Tryailla had.

"Let me help you up," he offered. He bent down to give her his hand but she did not want to take it. He was as much the enemy as anyone around her.

Why did this have to happen now, when she was so young? When she had yet to be trained? She had no hope of fighting off anyone.

"There is no need to be afraid," Fagan said quietly.

When she looked as though she were about to bolt again, he added, "Why don't you return to your room and we can figure this all out later."

That was the last thing she wanted. Her room was all the way at the back of the palace and the furthest from any possible escape but Fagan still towered over her and now the mages and Tryailla had caught up. Without any better ideas available to her, she nodded in agreement, finally allowing Fagan to help her to her feet.

"Pasc, please take her back to her room," Tryailla instructed, sounding slightly discouraged by the events.

He nodded and gestured for Poria to follow. The long walk back to her accommodations was made in awkward silence.

Strangely, Pasc no longer seemed all that upset by the events. In fact, his step was lighter than Poria had ever seen it. Perhaps he enjoyed treating her like a criminal.

Once they had reached her room, he gestured for her to go inside. She did as he indicated. He closed the door behind her but she did not hear him leave for well over a minute. After the sounds of his footsteps in the hall had died away, she tried to pull the door open. It did not move. Now she knew what he had been doing. He had sealed the door with his magic. There was no escape.

* * *

Tryailla gripped the stone railing of her balcony until her fingers were white, her jaw clenching with equal force. So much had happened in such a short time and all so soon after her own dedication. How was she ever going to survive it all?

"You will survive," Fagan reassured from his place leaning against the nearest pillar. "You must or everyone else will go too."

"Nothing has happened for centuries and we come to power only to have every complication imaginable arise," she vented.

Fagan laughed, "Don't you think you are exaggerating? What other complications? There have been no angels or gods to be seen and no abductions. That is something to be quite happy about."

Tryailla saw his point and released the tension in her fingers. "I guess I am just overwhelmed by everything unexpected happening," she said. "First Lapidus returns and now her. It cannot be a coincidence."

"Of course it can," he reasoned. "It may have happened many times before and we simply did not know. We will get through this. It is what our ancestors had anticipated and what we have been raised for."

She nodded giving another sigh. She seemed to be doing that quite often lately.

As she watched the moons rise, she wondered if the offer she had given Poria of a normal life was even possible. When she had made it, she had thought it was not. After seeing Poria's hysteria, she wondered if she could change things. It was so unfair to ask any of this from a little girl.

# Chapter 6

Poria gasped and her eyes flew open. The room was dark, not even moonlight shone through the windows. The hand that had awoken her was held tightly against her mouth but she could not see more than the thin silhouette of the person holding it there. Her ears thundered loudly with her heartbeat as she tried to control her breathing enough to clear her mind.

"It's alright," came a familiar whisper. "I am going to get you out of here but I need you to stay quiet."

When he had slowly removed his hand, she whispered, "Pasc?"

"We need to get you away from here," he said urgently, not answering her question. "I cannot teleport inside the palace. We need to get you outside the barrier."

As he helped her up, she tried to get more answers out of him. "Pasc, what is going on? Why are you helping me?"

Though it was too dark for her to see his features, she could tell from his movements that he was looking at her. Was he examining her? His gaze felt far too intimate to be comfortable.

"You really don't remember any of it, do you?" he said quietly, as if she had wounded him.

This made her upset. "Remember what?" she whispered angrily. "What am I supposed to remember? Everyone is treating me so strangely and I have no idea what is going on, Pasc."

"Stop calling me that!" he shot back angrily.

Such a violent response to his name caught her completely by surprise and she stiffened at the abruptness of it, unsure of what to do or say.

He seemed to have realized what he had done. His shoulders relaxed and she could hear him release a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. After all these years of searching, I had forgotten how difficult it might be for you to remember. It isn't your fault. But please, just call me Barjl, alright? It doesn't feel right having you call me anything else."

The name shot into her brain and felt like someone trying to shake her awake but her memories refused to cooperate. They would not stir. Regardless, the current events made her feel she could trust him. Reaching out blindly, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, determined to follow him wherever he led her.

Quietly, they walked to the door of her room where they stopped. Pasc—Barjl pressed his ear against it and seemed to be listening for anyone outside. Satisfied that it was safe to leave, he opened the door as silently and quickly as possible, pulling her with a powerful grip behind him.

The brightly lit corridors were completely empty, something Poria had never seen since arriving upon the planet. They did not need to slow or hide the entire way to the entrance of the palace. As they hurried through the Grand Arch and scurried down the steps as fast as they could without tripping, she heard her escort give a loud sigh of relief.

At the base of the stairs, he stopped abruptly and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her. For a moment, she became rigid and terrified, thinking he was intending some intimate gesture. When he spoke, his tone was far too serious for such frivolity.

"Empty your mind as best you can, just let me guide it," he ordered.

Desperately, she tried to fill her mind with nothingness, which was quite a difficult feat given the circumstances and the fact that she was a teenage girl currently being embraced by a boy. Somehow she must have managed what he wanted because he did not complain or berate her. A moment later they were gone from Tryailla and standing upon a craggy promontory overlooking a vast ocean. The wind whipped at their hair and bodies.

He separated himself from her but he held onto her hand. He guided her along a short path that followed the edge of the promontory and into the cave.

"Sorry about the accommodations," he apologized. "They are only temporary."

Looking around the small space, she saw that he must have been there not long before because a fire was burning in the middle of the floor, several Tryaillan blankets were folded and piled in one corner, and several baskets of food including fruit and breads had be placed in the other. He sat down near one of the baskets and pulled out a roll, offering it to her. She declined it politely and remained standing.

"What is going on? Why do you want me to call you Barjl and why did you need to get me out of there like that?" she asked, afraid she was sounding ungrateful when she was quite thankful for his help.

His shoulders fell. He obviously was not looking forward to the discussion, and he shifted his gaze around the cave as he seemed to contemplate his answer. Finally he said, "At best, they were planning to kill you."

This unexpected and extreme answer caused her to take a step back. "Why? I thought Tryailla promised to let me return home."

Shaking his head, he replied, "She lied. She was never going to let you return once she knew."

"Knew what?" Poria demanded hotly, stomping her foot in her frustration. She was sick of people hiding things from her.

After taking a deep breath, he replied, "You are Shinga."

* * *

Minyera awoke to Fagan shaking her.

"What's wrong?" she grumbled as she tried to get her bearings. The world refused to focus, as if her eyes had chosen to retreat inside her head.

"Shinga has escaped," he replied.

She sat bolt upright and looked around. The fog cleared from her vision. An aching in her temples threatened to become a mature headache.

It was late morning. She had always been an early riser. Sleeping in was unheard of for her or Fagan. He was leaning over the opposite side of the bed, bracing his arms against the mattress. His hair stuck out in random directions and his eyes were rimmed in dark purple. Large bags sagged beneath them. He looked as bad as she felt and obviously had just awoken himself.

Her temples made good on their threat. Her head pounded. As she reached up to tuck her hair behind one ear, she could feel her fingers shaking.

"Did it just happen?" she asked, trying to make sense of how she would have slept so long.

Fagan shook his head. "I just learned of it myself when Andred and Nira discovered it. She escaped in the night."

She threw back the covers and jumped to her feet. She stripped off her light sleeping gown as she walked to the wardrobe that sat on the other side of her bed from the windows. The colours of her dresses blurred together as she rummaged through them.

"How did her moving energies not wake us? Why did Alder, Entien, and Pasc not notice? Isn't it their job to notice these things? Didn't I ask them specifically to watch her?" she ranted as she decided to wear whatever her fingers next touched. Pulling out a light gown that might have been pink, she tried to make sense of the arms.

Fagan hesitated and to her irritation, was trying to hold back his thoughts and emotions from her as well. She threw down the fabric, which fluttered unsatisfyingly into a light pile at her feet.

"What is it?" she demanded.

"Pasc helped her," he explained.

"What did you just say?" she asked nearly in a shout. It was strange how her dedication had changed her from such a calm and happy person to an excitable madwoman.

At the same moment that Fagan decided to let his explanation flow out, he released all the restraints upon his thoughts and emotions. Though this returned their communication to normal, it also made her realize he was as outraged and confused as she. He had been trying his best to act the part of a ruler of Tryailla.

Pasc had used his spirit energies to shield them all from disturbance. He kept them all asleep, allowing himself an easy escape. To do such a thing ... To help Shinga ... Who was he really? He could not have been one of the misguided youths like on Dominans, worshipping a false legend. He knew the official history of the Whispering War. He knew what Shinga had done to her own people. Why would he help her?

"I don't know," Fagan said quietly to her unspoken question. "Pasc has always been the most talented youth we have ever seen. Why he would turn on us like this ..."

At his mention of Pasc's natural talents, Minyera closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. "He always was the most talented," she repeated. "More talented than any to be born upon Tryailla except a Thinker."

"No Thinker would ever help her," Fagan reasoned. "She was their enemy."

"Except for one," Minyera replied steadily, belying her inner turmoil. "You are forgetting the details of history. One Thinker joined with her and never betrayed her."

"Barjl," Fagan answered as he too realized the truth.

Letting out a frustrated, guttural scream, Minyera berated herself for bringing Poria to Tryailla. She had trusted so easily and had delivered the vilest of Thinkers into the hands of her greatest ally. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked at Fagan, trying to figure out how to fix the mess she had inadvertently created.

There was only one conclusion available to her. "Inform the mages. They will be protecting Tryailla while we inform Grindella, Lapidus, and Londu," she said. "Now that Shinga and Barjl are loose, we must expect an attack at any time."

Fagan nodded and left to inform the remaining mages.

Minyera cringed at the loss and betrayal of Pasc. She had felt sorry for the suffering boy, never knowing the devious person within him. Her home would now suffer too. It was never as well protected with fewer than five mages. She would have to pray that they could find a replacement before anything serious happened. It was highly irregular to search for a new mage when the others were still in their prime. They served the rest of their lives together and died together. To replace just one seemed wrong but the others would never release their vows and should not be punished because of one.

With a heavy sigh, she stared down at the light mass at her feet. It was actually green; the dress she would wear when hiking in the woods outside the palace. Having little time to waste, she grabbed the garment and shoved it roughly back into the cupboard, searching for something heavy enough to survive another unwanted visit to Dominans.

# Chapter 7

Gryp did not get the rest he wanted. The events of the following day proved that he would be shown no mercy.

Yuje had arisen before him and tried to leave. During Gryp's intervention in the matter, he took one of Yuje's elbows to just above his right eye. The wound was bleeding more than it should have but he dared not mend it with his thoughts.

Daring to hope the day would get better, he was again proven wrong over breakfast. While they ate a typical soldier's breakfast of bland grains in hot water, a heavy and familiar knock boomed on the door.

When Gryp opened it, Folg was looking back at him with a set jaw and a knitted brow. He looked as though he lacked any ability to smile.

"You are requested to come in full uniform to the archives," the general instructed.

Gryp nodded his understanding and dismissed his former mentor. Turning around so that he could retrieve the belt for his uniform, his eyes fell upon Yuje.

This was a problem. Yuje's attempt to leave proved that he was still not as trusting as Gryp required. Being summoned so seriously to the archives and not the main hall, he knew the information he was about to receive could not be given to Yuje unfiltered if at all.

He pulled the door to his room open roughly and yelled down the hall for Folg to return. The man was not happy to be asked to look after Yuje but he did not complain openly or argue.

When he was seated next to Yuje, who was still sipping his mush, he gave only the briefest of glances at his new charge before staring blankly at the wall. When Gryp was dressed and walking back to the door, he heard Folg mutter, "Be quick."

Gryp nodded in reply, managing to hide a smirk. He had never taken Folg to be a superstitious man. At that moment, however, he suspected the general would not be sitting so diligently where he now was if he had as little discipline as younger soldiers.

Gryp closed the door behind him and made his way quickly to the archives. When he pushed open the large doors, he was surprised to see more than the Alpha awaiting him.

Standing upon the same spot as he had during Gryp's initiation was the Draigo. Across from him, Tryailla stood with her consort. He did not indulge his initial surprise longer than that second of recognition. He immediately closed the doors behind him. As they thudded quietly shut, the Alpha called to him.

"Io, you may stand across from me today, no need to stand in the centre," she instructed.

He nodded and took the place opposite her on the invisible square.

"There is some disheartening news," she announced. "Tryailla and Fagan have informed me that Shinga has returned."

Despite Gryp's many lifetimes of experience hiding his emotions, his eyes widened at this news. He had heard of no events that indicated to him that Shinga had been reborn recently.

"The little Wolf girl that was taken back to Tryailla was the reincarnated form of Shinga," the Alpha explained. "Once Tryailla confirmed this, she kept the girl captive, intending to give us time to handle this situation more effectively. However, unbeknownst to her, the Tryaillan Mage of Spirit was also the reincarnation of Barjl. With his help, Shinga escaped."

The news of Shinga and Barjl not only being alive but also reunited was unwelcome, especially with what had happened during Yuje's challenge. He had managed to stay out of Shinga's way in his reincarnated forms but he had also avoided high profile positions, trying to remain unnoticed. This was the first time he had been forced to excel through the ranks. It had become an unwelcome necessity that was proving unsuccessful in getting him new information about the stones. So far, this approach had given him little of what he had hoped and far more risk than made him comfortable.

His mind jumped through the recent events. Shinga had escaped and a strange woman had appeared in the courtyard. Briefly, his brain connected the two events. If Shinga were fully aware of herself and changed her form from the little girl to her own visage, it could have been her.

Quickly, he dismissed the conclusion. The timing was not right and Shinga would have never saved Lapidus' life. She would have watched as Gryp ended it then killed him too. Furthermore, he did not see a reason she would interfere if she did not know who they really were.

"Do they know where she has gone?" Gryp asked, desperate for more information.

The Alpha shook her head in the negative but Tryailla spoke and her words gave him hope.

"When I last spoke with her yesterday," Tryailla began, "Poria was not aware of who she really was. She has had glimpses of memories but she was convinced they were simply nightmares. Though she may have been pretending, I do not think so. Even though she is now with Barjl, who will no doubt help her to remember fully, we may still have some time before she becomes truly powerful again."

The Draigo nodded in agreement of this assessment while the Alpha seemed much more pessimistic.

"Of the races that remain, it was we the Wolves who suffered most at her hands," she explained angrily. "We cannot hope that we have any time no matter how comforting that thought that might be." Turning abruptly to Gryp, she asked, "What can we do, Io? The old stories say you tried to tell her the truth of the gods and angels to stop her but none say if you were successful. Did she listen? Could we reason with her?"

The circumstance in which Gryp now found himself was quite unexpected. In all his lives, he had never known that Lapidus had tried to make peace with Shinga, that he had gone in search of her to tell her the truth. Would attempting such a thing make sense? Vanagandr had told him that all angels were instructed to observe Shinga and Ashyina, that none were to let their presence be known, and that none of the gods would go near them. Fear of Shinga seemed the only explanation that made sense. Why was someone so mundane, so important?

Had Lapidus succeeded in finding her but failed in convincing her of the real threat? If she could not be convinced, how would that serve him? Attempting to contact her risked his life far more than he was willing.

Vanagandr's constant refrains came back to him. He could not find the stones without Shinga. She was a key to them somehow. The only two he currently had he had stolen from her.

There was at least one advantage he had. She did not know who he was in this life. If she and Barjl were still unable to read his mind, he could fool them again. The possibilities fought inside his head, each trying to gain purchase over his will.

As the mental stimulation began to feel more like a numbing of his senses, he realized that he needed to speak with Vanagandr. Until then, he needed time.

"I was never able to find her," he replied. "I would still like to try."

If his only option was indeed to seek her out, this would allow him to do it. If he changed his mind, he could always leave for a time, return, and claim he either could not find her or she refused to listen.

"At the moment, we have no ideas where to look," the Alpha reasoned. "Do you intend to venture aimlessly in search of her?"

"I will need some time," he explained. "There are places to which she might return."

All the places on Earth he remembered were worth checking even if the chances were very small that she would return. Even with a list of possibilities, his real goal was to stall until he could figure out how to handle her.

The leaders were exchanging looks, silently conferring as usual. After a moment, they turned back to him. "You may do as you need," the Alpha replied. Turning back to the others, she said, "You should return to your homes. We must all take this time to safeguard our people as best we can. I will send for the parents of the girl and tell them she had suffered a terrible accident and was killed, better they believe that than know the truth. No Wolf family would want that."

Gryp nodded in agreement though mostly for show. After the meeting, he waited for the others to leave, hoping to retreat to the secret chamber to summon Vanagandr. The Alpha did not make it that simple.

"Walk with me, Io," she asked, gesturing for him to link his arm in hers.

He looked briefly at the blank wall behind the platform before nodding and taking her offered arm.

Whereas the foreign leaders left the archives and took the corridor leading back to the great hall, the Alpha guided him in the opposite direction through the corridors that had been formed deep into the mountains and where most of the military was housed. Today, these routes seemed strangely quiet.

"I told you when we first met that I liked you," she said conversationally. "I still feel that way. Despite all the reasons you have given yourself for being lower than mud, you are a good man."

The turn of this conversation was making Gryp so uneasy that he was unsure what next to say. No one had read him so clearly before. No one, not even Vanagandr had described him so astutely. Vanagandr saw him as nothing more than an opportunist trying to save his own hide. To be truthful, Gryp felt the same way most of the time.

At first, when he had still been reeling from the shock of the existence of gods and angels, he had been alright with such behaviour. Since that time, he had had many years to think, more than he wanted. He had seen himself as a villain. The way the superstitious spoke of his memory offended him so much because he had thought the same way about himself when he had dared to let his heart feel anything. However, there were even rarer glimpses when he did feel and did not hate himself. He truly felt a victim of it all. To hear another person with whom he had barely spoken assess him so easily was the most unsettling thing he had encountered since learning that Thinkers were neither alone nor supreme.

The Alpha stopped so that she could turn to look at him properly. She was so short in comparison that he found it mildly amusing how intimidating she seemed not only to him but to everyone who had met her.

"Things have changed with Shinga's emergence," the Alpha explained. "Let us stop with the pretence, Gryp. What is your real plan?"

Her use of his real name made his blood stop. His entire body went tingling cold. He was going to stammer a question about how she knew but his mouth wouldn't work. Staring blankly at her, he hoped that he looked a little defiant and a little confused. Though a faint hope – it was downright unlikely – he wished he could lie his way out of this conversation but at that moment, he felt the spiral upon his abdomen burn, reminding him of its ownership.

Why had it not burned before, with all the lies he had told? He did not know, but now it did. He knew that if he forced another lie to the wizened woman looking up at him, her threat of it killing him would be realized. He could not yet bring himself to confess the truth to her, especially as the fear of Vanagandr destroying him completely still weighed heavily in his mind. He needed to ease into it so he forced his mouth to cooperate.

"How did you know?" he asked in a whisper.

Her placating smile would have been insulting had the power dynamic of their relationship been different. "You already know I am a telepath," she explained simply.

"But then you would know my plan," he reasoned, partly trying to convince himself that he was having a nonsensical dream borne out of his fear. Any moment, a god would descend upon them and kill them all and he would wake up sweating on his plank.

She shrugged. "My strength waxes and wanes. Some days I can see your every thought; others are more difficult. It is a natural skill I have always possessed and it has made it much easier for me to defeat those who challenge me, which is why I am so successful despite my decaying body." Before he could say the words, she answered his next thought, "I am not a Thinker, just a particularly skilled descendent. Even Tryailla is not telepathic, even with her own consort. She can sense vibrations and emotions but little more. When you said you were Lapidus, I knew you were lying. I knew how you knew the answer to his question. But I also knew why you would lie and understood the difficult position in which we had put you, especially given your strange guardian."

Her knowledge of Vanagandr made his eyes involuntarily close and his jaw clench as he realized it was all likely about to end for him.

"Do not worry," she consoled. "No one else knows and I will do my best to ensure it remains so but my original question still stands. What is your real plan? Your mind was too confused in the meeting for me to follow it."

Taking a deep breath, Gryp spoke openly for the first time. "I don't know yet. I will need to consult the wolf angel. I may need to find Shinga but I do not know if that is necessary."

"And these stones?" the Alpha asked. "What are they?"

He shook his head as he replied, "I do not know, possibly a weapon. The gods fear them."

"You should feel lucky that your angel tolerates your plans to deceive him," she said.

"He knows?" Gryp asked, wondering how she would know such a thing. Dread filled him as he realized that a person who could know so much could be a god. Was she one of the missing gods?

"No," she replied. "I am not a god and I am thankful I am not. I have already told you I am just a Child. You can choose to believe me or not but belief alone cannot change what is. I suspect the wolf knows. If I, a simple Child, can read your mind, I suspect the wolf long ago learned of your real intentions. I understand how strong the desire is to feel one's thoughts are his own but you must realize that you can likely hide nothing from this angel."

Linking her arm with his again, she said, "Let us walk. I would like to spend some more time with you before you have to leave us on any quests. You are the first person I have felt intelligent enough to be proper company."

"Thank you," he whispered, finding himself overwhelmed by not only their revealing conversation but her willingness to accept him entirely, despite knowing the truth of his past.

"I still like you," she said with a smile as they restarted their walk through the dim corridors.

* * *

Poria stared at the fire that danced happily and unaware in the middle of their shelter. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her middle. After hearing Pasc's ... Barjl's words, she had gone into shock, numbly sitting where she had been standing. She stared at the fire. For a very long time, she did not think anything at all but simply watched the writhing and flicking of the flames before her. She did not hear the crackling of the wood or any pops of the jettisoned sparks. None of its warmth reached her nerves and she could have been floating on a cloud as easily as she was sitting upon a hard stone floor.

After some time had passed, the slightest tickle of the wind brushed across the skin of her bare arms. She shivered slightly only to have her abductor – she was still unsure whether he had rescued her – rest a finely woven blanket upon her shoulders.

Looking up at him, she tried to make sense of his features. She tried to understand who he was but her brain felt sluggish and uncooperative. It could barely rearrange his features into a coherent image in her mind. After a moment, she realized they had been staring at each other for quite some time. His expression was kind and understanding. He was not pressing the issue. She looked back at the fire, this time aware of his movements as he walked back to his place on the far side of it and sat down.

"I expected this to go much worse," he said as he picked up a stick he had kept next to him and used it to adjust the logs in the fire. "To be honest this is the first time we have gotten this far."

Poria simply stared at him, confused.

"I have managed to find you only two times before," he explained. "The first time, I was too late and Ashyina had killed you right before I had tracked you down. It took me a long time to remember in that life. The second time, you had been so indoctrinated into believing Shinga was evil that the moment I told you who I was and who I thought you were, you ran me through. I had no chance to convince you." He looked down at the left side of his abdomen and ran his hand over it to check that it was intact. "Yes," he confirmed, "It is going much better this time."

His relaxed demeanour given the circumstances was yet another strange thing for Poria's mind to try deciphering. She was not succeeding.

"If you would like," he offered, "I can tell you about the past. Perhaps it will bring back some of the memories?"

Unsure if she believed him, Poria nodded, still curious about what he had to say.

He forced a weak smile. Despite his offer, he was somewhat reluctant but he did not withdraw. After a deep breath, he began.

He told her about the Thinkers and how they had come to this universe, how they had taken forms of flesh to which they had been inexplicably bonded ever since. Then he spoke of a Thinker named Ashyina and of an ultimate betrayal that resulted in Shinga being raped only to be deliberately discredited by Ashyina, her former lover. He explained the truth of the legendary war and how Shinga was not the villain. He spoke so passionately and honourably about her efforts.

It was a story Poria had never even heard, not even when passing by a group of the Shinga cult as they murmured in hushed tones about how she should be honoured. Her mother had never let her near anyone who believed such things. Her mother was a strong traditionalist. To worship Shinga was to believe that chaos and evil were to be envied.

Looking at the young form that was now Barjl, Poria thought through his story. It had not worked to bring back her memories as he had suggested but it was familiar. The most shocking sensation of all was that it felt right. It felt like he was telling the truth, that the old stories were fabrications, entirely devoid of the other side of the story. As the possibilities began to penetrate her mind, she swallowed hard around the large lump that had formed in her throat during her silence.

It did little to relieve her tension. In fact, her tension was mounting as her body began to tingle with the knowledge and anticipation of something—anything—happening. Perhaps she was more than just Poria, perhaps being Shinga would not be so bad. If she were, she could try to set things right once and for all.

"It will not be so easy," Barjl replied to her unspoken thought. Such a knowing reply unsettled her and he seemed to notice. "Sorry," he apologized before explaining, "I have managed to develop my telepathy quite far. I cannot read the mind of other Thinkers just yet but I could always read yours when I could find you. That is how I found you the two times before."

The colour drained from her face with her embarrassment. At that moment, she was truly the twelve year old girl sitting across from a fifteen year old boy and she was mortified at the realization he was privy to every secret thought and feeling that swirled in her head.

He put his hands up in a peacemaking gesture. "I promise I will stay out of your head until you say otherwise," he said.

"Thank you," she whispered in reply.

"But now that I already know you would like to fix matters. I need you to know of some more recent history," he explained. "Though this is the first time I have managed to find you in time and tell you of the past, this is not the first time you have remembered and it is not the first time you have tried to rectify the past. You have found Ashyina several times. I do not know how many but it has certainly been more than the few times of which I was aware. Each time either she dies or you die. You both train until you are strong enough to defeat the other. It goes back and forth like this and nothing has come from it except wasted lives. I do not think there is a point to following the old patterns again."

"If I even am Shinga, what am I supposed to do?" Poria asked, frustrated. The idea of being a fugitive for eternity was hardly appealing.

"The closest you ever came to destroying a Thinker, truly destroying a Thinker, was with your fang," he explained.

The mention of a fang flicked at something intangible inside her gut. The faintest of memories was trying to fight its way to the surface of her thoughts.

He continued, "You killed Kiran, though accidentally, with that fang. He has never been reborn since. We were right then that it had truly killed his thought. If you want to take care of Ashyina, we need to get that fang back and ..."

"Find the other stones," Poria finished to her own surprise.

Inside the fang were two unique stones. She remembered that much and she remembered, with a flush of embarrassment that made her cheeks hot, how those stones made her feel. But the idea of other stones felt more distant, stranger, though not wrong.

"Wait," she said, confused, "What stones?"

Barjl seemed to understand her difficulty in sorting out her thoughts. "The Monkeys had more stones. They are gone and have entirely disappeared but I am convinced the stones till exist somewhere. We must find them."

"Do you know where to look?" she asked pragmatically and somewhat nervously. She was unsure what he would say in response and felt slightly surprised she had the nerve to start questioning him.

He shook his head. "I haven't learned anything more about where they are which is why I think we should focus on the fang. We know Gryp took it. Though he has been trying to avoid detection, I believe he has returned several times. If he does not currently possess it, he must have put it somewhere. If we search Dominans and Tatsu, we may find it."

"Not Tryailla?" she asked, curious as to why he had left that planet out.

"When I became a mage, through joining my energies with the others, I could feel the differing vibrations on the entire planet. It is not there. But I cannot do the same thing on my own on other planets so it will be difficult."

He looked at her for several moments, seemingly evaluating and considering. "But we will not be able to go soon," he said. "We need you at your best. Until you can remember for yourself and have regained your former abilities at the very least, we will stay here." Giving a large yawn, he added, "And for now, I am going to sleep."

To her surprise and utter discomfort, Barjl not only reverted in front of her but turned into a large tawny Cat. He curled up next to the fire and closed his eyes.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she stammered.

Without moving his body, he cracked one eye open to look at her.

"If you revert you will," she paused as she realized what she had been about to say: you will bring Shinga down upon us.

Stunned, she stared down at her own body. For her entire life, she had been taught how to make herself deliberately uncomfortable all to avoid becoming one of Shinga's next victims. There were stories of people being taken and killed in the forests. It was said that it happened only at night and only to those who had reverted. If she were Shinga, such ideas, even if true did not apply to her.

Looking up once more, she saw he had closed his eye. He was unconcerned with what she had felt was a dire situation only a moment ago. Now, it seemed so silly. She had never really seen her reverted form. Upon Tryailla, she had been so panicked when it had happened that she had not taken real notice of it. She had never allowed herself to indulge the change. Her mother had always insisted to those who visited that all her children had been born human and had stayed that way through childhood. Poria had always thought it likely it was an exaggeration at the very least but she welcomed everyone thinking she and her siblings were incapable of such base instincts.

As she stared at her hand, she tried to relax her mind to an extent never before permitted. It was much more difficult than she had anticipated. The years of preventing the transformation had been so ingrained that it was now a struggle to allow her body to do what had been the most natural function of all.

As she concentrated, feeling on the verge of the explosion of a migraine, her hand changed. At first the change was strange and subtle, affecting some areas of her hand more than others. Then, after another moment of intense effort, her hand changed into a paw. Once begun, the transformation was able to continue to the rest of her body without her control.

Sitting on all fours, the strangest sensation yet, she still stared at what had been her hand and was now a paw. Her fur was a shining grey.

She looked up at Barjl, who was sleeping peacefully. His Cat form was entirely unfamiliar but she had never known him as anything by a wolf according to the stories he had shared. With a large yawn, she decided to follow his example and curled up next to the fire. Once she had figured out how to move her tail and position it just right, she closed her eyes and gave into the relaxation she had never before allowed.

# Chapter 8

The Alpha had walked with Gryp for some time, engaging him in idle conversation about frivolous things. It was a new and welcome sensation. He had never before been given the opportunity to let down his guard.

At her request, they ended their walk in the afternoon after he had escorted her back to her room.

As she closed the door, he saw a subtle shaking of her hand. Had her age progressed that far?

Yet another strange and new sensation swept over him: concern for another. He had just gained his only friend. His feeling of no longer being an outcast was only hours old. If he could help her heal, to extend her life, then maybe he wouldn't have to lose such a friend so soon. But how long could he give her? How long did he even have under the circumstances?

He remembered he needed to summon Vanagandr. The thoughts of mortality shifted to the back of his mind. Looking around, he considered the fastest way to the secret chamber. As he considered the entrance from his room, he remembered Folg. The general would not be pleased to be babysitting Yuje for so long but the man would have to wait a little longer. At a swift pace, Gryp turned and walked back to the archives.

Once standing before the secret door, he examined it. Vanagandr had never told him how to open it. There were no identifying marks let alone something to grasp and it had not opened inward, which indicated it could not simply be pushed. As he ran his hand over the stone feeling for something he had not before noticed, the section of wall began to move aside. He entered the darkened hallway.

He did not dread summoning Vanagandr nearly as much as was normal. The wolf had been pressuring him to seek Shinga out, claiming she was the key to more stones. Gryp had resisted for his own safety. Now that he was finally considering seeking her, he figured the dog would be far more amenable.

As he neared the final turn in the dark corridor, he stopped abruptly and froze. He heard voices. He had yet to summon his guardian. Why would Vanagandr already be in the chamber? How could anyone else be there given what the wolf had told him?

Trying to listen as best he could, he recognized the low rumbling tones of his angel. The other voice was that of a woman. Vanagandr seemed to be trying to keep his voice low but the woman took little care in controlling her volume.

"How can you say that?" she shrilled. "I and the other Gemini have lost more than any of the rest of you. Don't you dare act like you know the loss I feel!"

Gryp pressed himself against the wall. Taking care to remain in the shadows, he dared a peek around the corner.

Vanagandr was sitting so still he really did look like a statue. The woman was pacing the floor in front of the wolf and she was very familiar.

Her stature and cloak were the same as the woman in the courtyard but now her hood was down. She had a unique feature: across her forehead and down the left side of her face and neck were tiny vines. They looked like a three-dimensional tattoo. Growing on the vines were tiny leaves and flowers. The centre of the flowers looked like jewels, the colours of them changing as she moved. Her almost black hair was pulled tight and braided thickly down her neck. She had large lips and an angular nose. The way she walked could only be described as regal.

As she made a particularly flamboyant turn to walk in the other direction, Gryp saw the tiny sparkle of a pendant resting on her collar bone. It was a white gold pendant in the shape of a woman wearing a sleeveless robe with many folds in the fabric that cascaded to her feet. The figure's forearms pointed to the left with her palms down and her chin tilted downwards to the right.

"You are letting your emotions get the best of you," Vanagandr cautioned. "The loss we have felt is not the only loss we could suffer."

She stopped abruptly and spun to face him. Clutching at her throat she held up the pendant. "I was Gemini, Vanagandr! Gemini! Do you not understand what that means? Do you not understand how painful it is for half a Gemini to be killed? You do not! You never have. They should have killed me too."

He growled and now raised his own voice. "You jeopardize everything I have been working for because you cannot overcome your own suffering! Why did you summon me? You should be with your god. You should not be here, Minne!"

She scoffed. " _My_ god," she said bitterly. " _My_ god is missing."

"You know what I mean," growled Vanagandr. "If they discover you here, all my efforts will be destroyed. If we are ever to be free of them, I must succeed. There is no other way. You must go back before he discovers you are missing."

"You did not seem to care so much whether they knew if _you_ were missing," she shot back. "I can help you!" She pleaded passionately.

Vanagandr glared at her with such anger that he seemed beyond knowing what to do with the woman standing before him. "Go back now, Minne. If you do not, I will be discovered and killed. The stones of Ezamal will be lost forever. Do you want that? When there is hope that they were not destroyed? If you want vengeance this is the best way to get it. Help me by leaving."

"What of Lapidus? Are we to leave the only Thinker to escape a god not once but countless times to the hands of your errand boy?" she asked. "He could teach us how to fight them ourselves."

"You obviously do not know that Lapidus' encounter with Lilith has left him an insane mess. He does not even remember it," Vanagandr informed her before adding, "Even if he were of any help, there are too few of us and too many of them."

"If the angels were free, there wouldn't be too many of them!" She yelled, frustrated that the wolf refused to agree with her.

"What do you think I am trying to do?" Vanagandr barked. "Every moment we speak, the more risk there is to my entire plan. Leave!"

For many moments, she said nothing as they stared frigidly at each other. "I will come back," she said finally. "You may be too stubborn to realize it, but you will need my help."

A heartbeat later she had disappeared into nothing just as Gryp was accustomed to seeing from Vanagandr.

Several times he blinked. Though he could not entirely make sense of what he had just heard. Somehow, like Tryailla, Vanagandr had managed to gain free will. It appeared this Minne had as well and they were trying to find the stones for the same reason he had: to defeat the gods. Vanagandr's threats about his superiors were posturing. He was working alone and as much a fugitive, if not more, than Gryp.

For a moment, Gryp entertained the thought that he and Vanagandr could be open allies. However, he also remembered how much contempt the wolf held for him. There was also no guarantee that just because they both wanted to overcome the gods that Vanagandr or any of the other angels would take pity on the Thinkers. The angels alone would be a difficult enough foe, especially given their vast numbers.

Then there was Lapidus. From what Minne had said, it sounded as though he had managed to succeed where even an angel with free will failed. Gryp needed to know what he had done. What had Lapidus learned?

"How much did you hear?"

Gryp froze as he realized Vanagandr was speaking to him. Slowly, he emerged from his hiding place in the darkness and looked into Vanagandr's eyes. For the first time, the angel looked truly sad. Gryp said nothing.

"Most of it, I fear," the wolf replied to his own question, likely having gleaned the answer from Gryp's thoughts. When Gryp said nothing, his guardian continued, "The _gods_ are tyrannical children with more power than conscience. When you sought us out, I felt the Thinkers may be our only hope to defeat them. As your race was falling, I thought I had made a mistake until the stones resurfaced. I left my god and never returned. Unlike Tryailla, I know how to hide. They have yet to find me and we should both hope it stays that way."

Gryp nodded slowly.

The wolf straightened his shoulders and his face lost the sadness. He reverted to his usual consternation for Gryp. "Do not think I will not kill you myself if you cross me," he said. "You are still working for me and you will do as I say." He tilted his head slightly to one side. "Why did you come here?" he asked.

For a moment, Gryp could not remember as his brain was so busy processing what he had just witnessed. Within a moment, it came back to him. "Shinga has resurfaced," he said. "I am supposed to seek her out and tell her the truth of the gods to plead with her to drop any plans she has for war."

"The truth may not be wise at this moment," Vanagandr said firmly.

"But I thought you said I needed to get close to her to find the stones?" Gryp asked, confused by Vanagandr's insistence that Shinga remain in the dark. The angels had been ordered by the gods to avoid her. Why did a rogue angel still care?

"There will be a time when we must tell her the truth," Vanagandr replied. "Without her, we cannot find any more stones, I fear. However, we do not know her current level of consciousness. We do not know what the gods are watching. We will need her but we must be cautious."

"What do you want me to do?"

"For now, you will wait," Vanagandr replied. "She will come back. She will be looking for her fang."

"How can you be so sure she will look here?" Gryp pressed.

"Because, like it does for Ashyina, this planet calls to her. Since Ashyina allowed it to sing again, it pulls to her. She cannot stay away for long."

* * *

Yuje had spent most of his post-military days on the streets with nothing more to do than huddle for warmth. Now and then, passers-by would mutter or even yell profanities at him but for the most part they would leave him alone. On those days, he past the time by watching how much the world around him changed despite his complete lack of involvement. Even the subtle changes had kept him entertained. This was not one of those days.

Daring to give a quick glance at the general, Yuje confirmed yet again that the man hadn't moved since he arrived except to put more logs on the fire. He would stand stiffly, walk to the fire, throw a log on, return to his seat and sit in the same position with the same facial expression as he had before. They had spent the entire day sitting at the table, staring.

Yuje had tried to watch the fire's movements to stay occupied. Though always unique, the air currents in the room were quite stable. The rhythm of the dancing flames became hypnotic with few variations. Despite all his experience of long days with nothing to do, he was bored.

A great pop came from the fire as a moist spot of wood had been exposed to the heat. It was so loud and unexpected that he jumped. For a moment, he had thought Folg had given a slight start as well. If he had, it had been small and he had recovered quickly like a true military man.

For Yuje, this tiny, mundane event became much more significant. He had been staring at the exact spot from which the wood had popped. He thought the flame looked like a feathery wing and was admiring the curvature just when the unexpected snap brought him back to his surroundings. The sensation caused by the shape he had seen and the sudden noise burrowed so deeply into his thoughts that it felt as though it had drilled through his brain and down into his gut. There the mass sat, tormenting him with fear he could not explain, causing him to clench tightly and look around for any escape.

Folg remained motionless and impassive. Yuje thought that at least his captor wasn't taking the time to beat him.

With another tug at his insides, something threatened to break loose. A dark haired woman with frightening eyes flashed into his mind. Blood, death, and the most malicious smile he had ever seen accompanied her. He gave another start as he remembered a sensation very similar to having someone tug at his organs and yet it was not a physical feeling. It was like his thoughts were being pulled, as if someone were trying to forcibly remove them from his brain. Discomfort shifted into excruciating pain in the base of his being. It felt like all the loss and all the despair a person could ever feel and it was so strong that it tortured every cell in his body.

Perhaps he was screaming, perhaps he was having another one of his fits, he was not sure. His surroundings had been blocked out by the pain and the horror of what he felt. He simply wanted it to stop and could think of little else. The woman, Lilith, would not let it stop.

Then, strangely, through all the pain and the flashes of blood and the crazed woman, through all of it, he saw Iogrevard standing calmly at the end of a darkened hallway. His mouth was moving but Yuje could not hear him. He tried to get closer. As he neared, he could tell Iogrevard was repeating something over and over.

"This is not real, Lapidus," Iogrevard said. "This is not real. You need to wake up. Look at me. Focus on me."

As he got closer, the words became clearer and easier to understand. Quickly, he followed Iogrevard's instructions, focusing upon his face and nothing else. He focused on each feature of Iogrevard's face and came closer until he could see almost nothing else because their noses could have been touching. It was over.

Looking around the room, he realized he was lying upon the floor in Iogrevard's chamber and they were alone.

"What ... where is the general?" Yuje groaned as he tried to get up. Iogrevard offered his hands to help Yuje to his feet.

"You fell to the floor screaming just as I got back. I told him to go because I could handle it," Iogrevard explained.

Yuje remembered how he had come out of the fit and looked at Iogrevard suspiciously. "How did you do that?"

Shrugging, he replied, "It is a talent."

"You called me Lapidus."

Iogrevard nodded slowly. Then, appearing to come to some conclusion, he instructed Yuje to sit down at the table again. Yuje had had enough of sitting the entire day but something in Iogrevard's expression made him feel this was too serious to be rebellious.

"I believe you are Lapidus," Iogrevard began. "Lapidus was one of our true ancestors. They were a race that called themselves Thinkers. They brought thought to this universe. Thinkers are often reborn, though not often in recent times. I believe your memories are trying to emerge but something has gone wrong."

With this information, Yuje felt his mouth go dry. What he was being told felt right but he did not like thinking that the flashes he saw in his fits were memories. If such a thing had ever happened, he saw no reason it could not happen again. "What do you think has gone wrong?" he choked.

Iogrevard considered for a moment. "I am not sure but what I saw in your mind has never happened. There are no other races beyond the Thinkers and not even Shinga has done what was in your mind. Perhaps this form really does have a defect causing insanity, causing you to have flashes of events that never happened. I am not sure but I would be careful. Thinkers were not known for their compassion to those they believed were losing their thought and their ways of dealing with such things do not have a history of ending well."

Yuje did not feel he was losing his thought. Quite the contrary, he felt he had far too much of it. However, Iogrevard seemed to know much more about the situation and for the first time, he was not being treated like a pariah.

Yuje did not remember these Thinkers or if he ever was one. He had no memories of such things, only the woman torturing him. That was far more real to him than the Thinkers.

He did not know what to believe. His head hurt, his heart hurt, his entire being ached with confusion and trauma. With Iogrevard's warning, he felt a pang of regret. It sounded as though Das had been right all along.

His first priority was to keep his condition hidden whether his enemies were Wolves or Thinkers. Iogrevard seemed to think they were wrathful and to be feared. If all of it were true, how could he have ever been a member of such a horrible race?

# Chapter 9

Without Pasc acting as the fifth mage, the weather upon Tryailla had become unpredictable. Random and brief storms would materialize with little warning. Minyera wondered if it was simply being driven by the chaotic emotions of the custodians of the land.

Since Pasc's defection, Minyera, Fagan and the remaining mages had all been depressed. Within the day of his defection, they had met in the Hall of Spirit to discuss finding his replacement. All had been stunned and few offered any ideas. Their meeting had ended with little progress. Yet time continued on its spiral.

They had spent five months travelling the entire planet, looking for any wayward Cat she might have missed. The only thing their extended search had accomplished was producing great blisters on their feet and giving her quite a shock when she ran into a swollen-bellied Shiatha in the Great Hall. Shiatha's good news had done little to cheer Minyera's spirits.

She had visited every home of every Cat that did not live in the palace. Not one of the people she met held enough promise and skill to become a mage. Though mages were rare at the best of times, Minyera could not help but feel slightly frightened that the current dry spell was a bad omen of things to come. After all, they now had Shinga to fear as well.

As the winds fought outside, Minyera sat at a low table in the great hall. Her chin rested upon her hands, which were flat on the wood surface. She stared at the celebratory figures that adorned the fireplace and wondered how she was ever going to find a proper replacement.

As if to reassure herself, her mind went to the protective shield around the palace. She caressed the variations of its energy with the fingers of her thought. It was as strong as it had ever been. She let out an exhausted sigh.

"Have you considered asking Iogrevard?" she heard Fagan say as he sat down beside her.

Without moving and still staring at the fire, she replied, "I am not sure how that would help. He cannot create mages amongst our kind."

Fagan shrugged but said, "Are you sure that is true? The Thinkers are the reason any of us have any abilities at all. They once taught the Children how to do what they did. They worked with the people and made them better. Perhaps we need a little more of that and a little less natural talent right now."

She considered his suggestion for many moments. It was true that the histories told of the children once being students of the Thinkers and that even the Thinkers had to relearn their skills in each life. However, it had not been done that way in hundreds of years. The cats had reached a level of skill that saw people born with specific abilities that required no teaching or hard work. Perhaps they had become too lazy. Perhaps their security upon Tryailla had allowed them to be too comfortable with staying as they were and not continuing to become stronger like their ancestors. Even so, there had not been one Cat she had met who felt right even for such a position as disciple. One thing she did agree with was that there was no harm in asking Lapidus.

"Fagan, ask Shiatha to go to Dominans and request an audience for me with Iogrevard. She seems to be the only one who doesn't mind going there," she said, still resting her head upon her hands.

"You might want to do it yourself," he suggested. Poking at her sides, he added, "You need the exercise."

Moving only her eyes, she glared at him.

* * *

Shinga awoke to the sweet smell of roasting pork. Sitting up, she flexed her fingers and watched the last remnants of fur leave her skin. It felt good to sleep so deeply without guilt. As she stretched the stiffness from her legs, she smiled at the dark haired Barjl; the man she remembered and no longer the blond boy she had never known. He was turning the spit upon which a flank of a boar was roasting. She looked out the cave to see diminishing red in the sky. The sun had just broken above the horizon.

It had taken months but her memories had finally returned to her.

Barjl had spent the first days telling her about the past without any luck. He tried to teach her how to perform the tasks of a Thinker. She could do nothing with the rock he wanted her to change even though she could change her own form at will.

Despite all their efforts, her first vivid memory returned with no effort and seemingly for no reason. It was not some major event that came back to her. It was a simple afternoon at a river fishing with her tribe. She grieved for Barjl's son Arken. Had he died peacefully? Had he been stupid enough to return to Tryailla when she had not followed him?

Once that first memory had pushed its way into the open, the second slipped into her consciousness with barely any effort. Ashyina was standing above her and looking down. She held a Wolf sword, which she had raised to strike. Shinga remembered the confusion she had felt. She had not known who the woman was at the time but Ashyina had recognized her.

The rest of her memories came in quick succession in the weeks that followed. It had been an emotional time and had taken another few weeks before she had returned to herself and was fit to speak.

With the memories came her previous skill at a speed that surprised even Barjl. The desire to shed the forms of this new life followed.

As Poria, she had felt as comfortable in her skin as any twelve year old girl could manage and being told she was Shinga had not changed that. With the true recollections of the past, however, the skin of Poria was extremely foreign.

Since she had killed Ashyina upon Tryailla, she had been forced to take many other forms to avoid being recognized. Alone in this cave with her last remaining ally, she indulged in having her old body.

Barjl seemed much more comfortable to be in the skin of a man. His years of experience did not sit well inside the lanky frame of an adolescent. It had served him well when he wished to stay hidden, now it was unnecessary.

"You were up early," she remarked to which he nodded but said nothing. He seemed concerned.

"Has something happened?" she asked.

Shaking his head, he replied, "Nothing like that. I've just been thinking about the stones."

The flank had been roasted to his liking. He removed the spit, ripped off a portion of meat, and handed it to her.

"Like old times, isn't it?" he said as she took the offering.

His attempt to change the subject did not go unnoticed. Unlike other days, she would not indulge him.

"Tell me what is on your mind," she said.

For a moment, she thought he was simply going to ignore her but then he finally spoke. "I am just feeling discouraged. We will have to return to Earth to find the rest of the stones but I don't see how that will even help. The universe is too vast a place and they could be anywhere."

His shoulders sagged as he let out a sigh. "Sorry," he said. "I'll think of something. We're together now and that has to help."

For several moments, she considered his words as she chewed the meat. She had been thinking the same thing and had felt equally discouraged. Being together in the search gave little comfort given the enormity of the task before them. She had never come any closer to finding out what had happened to the Monkeys. She definitely had no clues indicating Gryp's whereabouts. She was determined not to waste yet another life.

As she had considered these issues herself, she had already begun to think they might need to adjust their plan. With Barjl confirming he felt the same way about the futility of their search, she was confident her earlier feelings were correct.

"Back when this all started," she began, "We tried to convince everyone of my innocence but no one would listen. Nothing like that had happened in our history. No one wanted to believe it. Avorlig had already been campaigning against me and Ashyina and Lapidus were actively thwarting our every effort to spread the truth."

Barjl was still slouched but he was watching her as she spoke.

"Now, there are the stories, especially on Dominans, about how evil I am. Ashyina's lies have an even stronger hold. I doubt the masses would ever believe us. However, there is one planet, and one race, that has not spent every waking moment slandering me. I think we might want to try speaking to Tryailla," she said. "I want to tell her the truth."

At this, Barjl straightened abruptly. Her suggestion had evoked his fire. "Did I not just rescue you from that place? They were going to kill you!" He yelled.

He could not contain himself. He jumped to his feet and paced the length of the cave, nearly tripping over the spit in the process. He was no longer looking at her.

"What are you thinking, Shinga?" he ranted. "Do you want to throw it all away so easily?" His hands flew around wildly as he yelled.

He was entitled to his shock so she remained seated and calm. "Yes," she said, "You did rescue me from them. At that time, I was at a disadvantage. I did not know the truth even though they did. I did not have any skills even though they did. They knew only the history they had been told. Even then, Tryailla was saddened when she discovered it. Do you not remember her face when she told me I had to choose? Knowing who I was did not change the fact that she wanted very much to give me mercy.

"This Tryailla is different," she continued. "She is kind and flawed just like us and she seems to know it. She isn't as full of herself as the Thinkers of our time."

Barjl stopped pacing. He was staring out of the cave at the horizon. When he spoke, his voice was measured. "She is downright terrified of her lack of skill at times," he said. "I have seen it." He paused before adding, "I cannot read her mind but I could see the little slips of body language and the subtleties in her words."

Shinga was glad he was finally beginning to see her point. "We need to try," she said. "If we can convince her, she can share the truth with the Alpha and the Draigo. With the right people knowing the truth, things could change. Ashyina isn't here this time to counter everything we are saying. We might actually have a chance."

He turned to look into her eyes. She knew this time could be different. She needed him to know that too.

"Alright," he said. "We will try but we can't just walk right in. We will need a plan."

* * *

In the months since Yuje came to the compound to make his challenge, Gryp had noticed many changes that would likely have gone unnoticed by anyone else. Yuje had become less skittish and had fewer fits. The intense fit Gryp had stopped in the first day had also opened Yuje's mind to him. He could not explain it.

Yuje began to remember more of being Lapidus and even Lilith. As the memories mounted, the recollections came with increasing calm. This calm suited Gryp much better for it was easier to subtly guide Yuje into disbelieving Lilith's existence when the memories were not putting him into a cold sweat.

Instead of outright denying Yuje's memories, Gryp would fabricate reasons as to why someone such as Lilith made no sense. This was not difficult as Lilith's particular brand of torture seemed to involve using skills that no Thinker ever had or weapons of the angels that, as far as the general populace were concerned, did not exist.

She would create images and scenes out of nothing. They would have as much texture and smell and depth as reality but they would show horrifying things happening to people Lapidus would wish to protect. She would put him in scenarios that he would believe were fully real and ensure he would fail any rescue attempt. She would wound him to an inch of existence and bring him back, healing him in a manner and a speed that no Thinker had managed. When he became so traumatized that he neared going numb, she would heal even his trauma, setting him whole again so that she could continue her work, ensuring the maximum fear and torment. Finally, she had a favourite method of torture that intrigued Gryp greatly. She would use an angel's diane to rip at his thought and the fabric of his being. Though Gryp had even used the diane himself to end a Thinker's thought completely, he did not know that its energies could be manipulated so subtly. A Thinker could be injured without being killed by the device. It was these forms of torture that Yuje feared the most.

Gryp would give various explanations for each fit. They would have seemed logical to any Wolf soldier even if they were outright lies. He would argue that while Thinkers could manipulate the physical world, even the most skilled still struggled with telepathy when applied to their own kind. There simply would be no way for a Thinker to create such realistic fantasies in someone else's mind. Even the most open telepathy between a Thinker and a Child could not accomplish such a feat.

He would also argue that such a weapon to attack and destroy one's thought did not exist and not even Shinga had the power to create such a thing. He further supported this argument by pointing out that if Shinga had such a weapon, her desire to kill all thinking beings could have easily been realized long ago. He very much doubted that Lilith was Shinga in disguise, which was one argument Yuje always accepted without question, and reasoned that there was never a Thinker named Lilith.

Continually reasserting these arguments helped greatly in convincing Yuje that not all his memories were real. However, Gryp knew discrediting the Lilith recollections was not enough. He had to offer a reason why they happened. Yuje needed to be able to dismiss them out of hand.

He began to ask Yuje more about his feelings and memories of Lapidus, not the man being tortured by an imaginary enemy. Often, these questions led to confusion. It seemed those memories had been eclipsed by the torture for so long that he had trouble focusing on them.

After a week of asking, Gryp noticed that it seemed to be getting easier. As Yuje's focus shifted, so did his belief in the torture. He became more and more open to the arguments presented to him and less and less traumatized by the phantom in his mind.

However, as Yuje began to remember the past of Lapidus that did not include Lilith, there was a sadness in him that grew. It did not attack his sleep as the torture did but it was a quiet depression, a loss that had taken hold. Though Yuje had not yet remembered a specific event, Gryp was sure that his time away from Lilith had not been happy either. This boded well for his efforts, for he knew that one day Yuje would remember the source to the sadness and with that memory would come the straw man Gryp needed.

During this time, it was not only his relationship with Yuje that had changed but that with the Alpha. They had begun a tradition of taking a walk together every afternoon. Some days they would discuss things as mundane as the weather; others they would discuss how best to find the stones. With unhindered access to the archives and her help, Gryp was disappointed to learn that not one reference, not even a side-margin scribble gave him any helpful information for his search. They were reduced to spending their time in speculation about them and other matters. They had long since stopped discussing Lapidus.

The Alpha was fully aware that Yuje was Lapidus. However, she treated him as nothing to his face and insisted to Gryp that no one know. If it came out that Yuje was Lapidus, Tryailla and the Draigo would ensure that Gryp was imprisoned or killed and she had become fiercely protective.

She had made him reconsider his own history. He had been caustic and volatile in his past. He had been a hermit and critical of those around him when he had lived openly amongst the Thinkers. Yet he wondered if even then he had actually needed them.

He had fought with Ventha constantly and told himself he hated every moment of it but he had instigated most of the arguments. Perhaps he truly liked them. Perhaps their fights were simply how he knew how to express his connection to another.

He did not know but for the first time, he not only cared about his emotions but wanted to understand them. The Alpha had made him care. It was her influence that had made him realize how much he wanted to end his solitary existence. Until he found the stones, he saw no other way.

The Alpha would not be there for him forever. The more they talked, the more he saw that even his near future would be one of loneliness. He witnessed more and more small indications to the Alpha's ill health: a slight wobble here, a lack of strength there, and once he thought he saw a momentary patch of fur appear on the back of her hand. These tiny changes ate away at him, for he found himself more and more in need of her presence. Even though their walks had yet to result in any epiphanies, even though she had no power to help him, she had become a great comfort.

He had never needed to heal another on his solitary path. Even if he could in her case, a Thinker could not reverse natural age. The vibrations themselves just began to break down and weaken over time. If one corrected them, they would return to their aged state the moment one stopped interfering. He was simply forced to watch her deterioration.

As he walked the Alpha back to her chambers, he noticed a patch of grey fur on her thumb. He covered it with his own.

A soldier jogged up to them. Out of breath, he tried his best to keep his voice steady as he gave his news. "Tryailla has sent a messenger requesting an audience," he wheezed.

The Alpha replied, "Not today but tell the messenger that she may speak with me tomorrow morning."

The soldier's eyes grew wide and he shook his head. "My apologies, Alpha, but the request was for him." With a turn of his head, he indicated Gryp.

Though Gryp could tell that the Alpha was considering the significance of this, she sad and indicated nothing to the soldier. He nodded as he said, "I can see her this evening."

"She has requested that you come to Tryailla," the soldier added to Gryp's irritation.

He would have to find yet another soul willing to look after Yuje; there was no way he was taking Lapidus back to Tryailla. If his memories came back too clearly and too fast, all Gryp's efforts would be undone.

Grudgingly, he said, "Tell the messenger I will join them shortly and please tell Folg I need another watchman."

The soldier gave a firm nod and said good-bye to them before jogging back to the main hall.

"She must want to speak to Lapidus," the Alpha explained as they continued their way back to her chamber. "Be on your guard."

He nodded politely even though he did not need to be told. Her concern was touching.

After he had left her, he returned to his room to relieve the poor, terrified soldier that had been sent to look after Yuje for the afternoon. As his walks with the Alpha were a daily occurrence and were the one time he let Yuje out of his sight, he had had a different soldier in his room every day.

Folg had, out of his own reluctance to take on the task, made sitting with Yuje a new form of training. It was to test the fortitude of his men. If they could spend an afternoon with him, they were strong enough to keep a level head in a real battle.

Each day a different young man or woman was sent in to sit with Yuje. Each day, Gryp noticed how relieved the soldier would be to see him return. As far as he could tell, Yuje did little during these times. He would simply stare at the wall or the fire but the superstitions amongst the populace were strong. Gryp found it amusing to return to a wide-eyed, frightened soldier and the oblivious looking Yuje. Some days, he would have to force himself not to laugh, which was something he rarely needed to do.

As he relieved the most recent victim, he could only shake his head as the young man nearly fell in his haste to leave the room. After so many days without incident, Gryp was surprised word had not spread that sitting with Yuje did not mean instant death or even minor injury, unless stubbing one's toe in an effort to escape counted.

Once the soldier was gone and Gryp had closed the door, Yuje spoke. "I am not going to run away. You are the first person aside from Das who has tried to help me. You don't see me like that soldier did. I am fed and housed here. It is more than I have ever had before in my life. There is no reason for me to leave."

As Gryp removed his belt so that the pain in his gut would not bother him so much while eating his dinner, he replied, "It isn't just that. If I don't make sure you are watched at all times, the people will talk. They will begin to distrust me and I need them to trust me."

"To become the Alpha?" Yuje asked as though simply to confirm what he already knew.

Gryp nodded. "Though I am confident I could beat any challenger, I would like such events to be rare. I have too many things to worry about without having to spend my time disciplining pups."

"Are you a Thinker?" Yuje asked in the same conversational tone even though the content of the question itself was quite abrupt.

Looking up, Gryp saw that Yuje was watching him. "Why would you ask that?" he asked, deliberately not answering.

"You can read my mind and you are more skilled than any other Wolf. You would be the youngest Alpha in history," he commented as though he had simply reasoned out his suspicions.

Gryp was not confident that was the only reason and planned to tread carefully. "I am Iogrevard, also known as Io," he said. "I was the only child of proud parents who were soldiers in the military. They both died from training accidents not long after I became a recruit. The compound has been my home and will remain to be until I die. I have worked hard so that I do have a home."

When Yuje nodded in acknowledgement, Gryp was relieved there had not been further argument though still wary. The man's thoughts were open and on the surface he believed Gryp's reply. However, the Alpha had taught him never to be too secure in the efficacy of his own telepathy. It was always possible for there to be deeper thoughts that were deliberately hidden or those he had simply missed.

Regardless of Yuje's belief in his answer, the question had still unsettled him. Though the Alpha worried what would happen if the other leaders learned of his true identity, it was Lapidus he feared. If Yuje remembered fully who they both were, it would be Lapidus who would ensure he suffered and it would be a fully-realized Lapidus who would have the skill to carry out such punishment.

# Chapter 10

Shinga and Barjl's plan was quite simple in theory. The execution of it was far more complicated. Barjl explained that they could not simply teleport inside the palace. The barrier surrounding it was created to protect against such things.

When Shinga learned that the mages saw to the maintenance of the barrier, she thought they might have an advantage that had not before existed. There was one less mage to help keep it strong. However, Barjl further explained that though the mages maintained it, the source of the energy itself and ultimately the one to ensure that it was stable was Tryailla. The only way to get into the palace would be to walk through the Grand Arch.

Shinga hoped they could employ the same techniques Barjl had used in their escape but he had made special preparations within the palace and within close range of the people whose vibrations he was manipulating.

Shinga suggested they simply change their features and travel in disguise. While Barjl agreed that was a wise precaution, he pointed out that it was likely they would still be discovered quite easily for several reasons. The first and most troubling was that the mages and Tryailla were in tune with the energies of the palace to the point that they could sense any disturbance. The second was that the population of Cats was not as large as that of the Wolves and Dragons. Though there were still many thousands of them, Tryailla had not only a very good memory naturally but a strong desire to know her people. She would recognize that they were out of place before they had a chance to approach her.

Irritatingly, Barjl seemed to have reasons for why each of her ideas would not work. She was sure he was deliberately trying to sabotage her plan to speak to Tryailla. She had nearly screamed at him and stormed out of the cave.

However, perhaps noticing her frustration, he offered a plan of his own.

His idea was to go to the mage Nira, who lived like a hermit.

Shinga took great glee in the one being able to thwart one of his ideas for a change. There was little she knew about the Tryaillans but she remembered that no one knew where Nira lived except for Tryailla herself.

Barjl had waved away this trifle dismissively, saying that they need not worry about that because one skill that seemed the hardest for non-Thinkers to achieve was individual teleportation. It was only using the vessels that allowed Tryaillans to travel the way they did and those were only used for interplanetary journeys.

Nira woke up before dawn every day so that she could make the hike to the palace in time for the morning meal and returned home after the evening meal. As he figured it, it would be simple to wait at the edge of the forest for Nira to leave the palace and simply follow her as she made her way home.

Although their last attempt to hide in those woods did not end well, his idea seemed plausible. Shinga agreed with his plan.

That evening, they were crouched in the brush at the edge of the forest, looking like a red-headed curly-haired woman with bright freckles and a short fat man with messy black hair.

As they waited, a Tryaillan vessel appeared at the base of the palace steps. Shinga thought of the innocent Poria stepping out from such a vessel, unknowing of what her stay on Tryailla would really mean. She wondered if Poria's parents had already been told the truth or if they ever would be. Were they left to wonder what had happened to her? They had been better to her than most Wolves to their children.

Stepping out from the vessel they saw a tall, muscular, dark-haired man wearing the full Wolf uniform. As he was escorted up the steps, Barjl whispered, "Who is that?"

"I am not sure," she replied. "He is a soldier but I was never allowed in the palace so I didn't know very many of them."

"Why would a soldier be here?" Barjl wondered.

Shinga shrugged. "It isn't that strange. All our representatives are soldiers. He is a bit young for such a position so he might just be a messenger. It could mean Tryailla has told the Wolves and Dragons about us already."

"Let's hope not," he said as they watched the man disappear through the Grand Arch and into the palace. "We might be in for a long wait," he added.

"I thought you said she leaves right after the evening meal," Shinga replied, irritated.

She must have let too much of her emotion enter her words for he looked at her with raised eyebrows. Nudging him gently in the side with her elbow, she tried to indicate to him that they were alright. Seeing his grin, she knew he accepted.

"She _normally_ leaves after eating," he explained. "But with a messenger, it means there is likely business, which means the mages will be required to stay. They are always involved in Tryaillan affairs because they are the custodians of the people."

As he was confidently giving this explanation, Shinga smiled. Nira was descending the stairs quickly and starting on her way home. Giving Barjl a harder nudge this time, she said, "You were saying?"

He was quite surprised by what he saw but had no hope of answers at the moment. He jumped to his feet and gestured for Shinga to come with him. They dodged through the brush along the edge of the woods, trying to keep up with Nira, who luckily was headed in a direction parallel to the forest.

They were forced to go much slower than their long-legged prey. She reached the path at the base of a large hill long before they could hope to get close. They were still farther back than they would have liked when she crested the hill. However, with her out of sight, they ran out from the trees, pulling the dark hoods of their cloaks over their heads to help hide them in the night. They scurried up the hill, slowing only as they reached the top. Barjl flattened himself on his stomach and crawled until he could look over to check that the coast was clear. After a moment, he stood and gestured for Shinga to follow.

"She just went around that bend," he whispered as he pointed.

They hurried to make it to the next turn in the path.

Barjl had not been mistaken when he said it took from before the redness of dawn to the sun being above the horizon for her to make the journey to the palace. Though it was night time, which lent itself to a certain amount of camouflage, it was not so dark that they could not be seen.

Tryailla had three moons and all three were currently in the sky. This made it easier to spot Nira farther down the path but it also would make it easier for her to see them, so they were forced to progress with a rhythm of scurrying, stopping, and hiding. It became quite tiresome very quickly.

Finally, they peaked around the last bend and did not see Nira at all. They looked at each other. They had been traversing hills and valleys but now the path ended before it reached the darkness created by another patch of trees. Their feeling of defeat was just about to peak when a light appeared.

In the darkest shadows of the trees, there was a small cottage and inside it Nira had just lit a lamp. Shinga and Barjl looked at each other again, and then quietly approached the cottage. They stopped outside the door and stood silently for a moment.

They could hear Nira's movements as she placed logs in her hearth and attempted to light them. After a moment, there were the first cracks and pops of wood that had not been dried long enough.

Silently, Barjl and Shinga looked at each other and agreed to make their move. Barjl slowly lifted his fist and knocked three heavy and steady times on the door. All sounds from Nira's movements ceased. For several moments, nothing happened.

Nira was probably trying to feel for their intent. They were nervous but they intended her no harm. They only wanted to talk. It would be unlikely that she could identify them simply from their intent. A moment later, she opened the door.

She stood there surveying her unexpected visitors. She did not fear them, for she opened the door wide and her posture showed no reservations, but she did not trust them. Shinga could understand that. After all, no one knew where she lived and Barjl had said she was known not to entertain visitors aside from Tryailla.

"Can I help you?" she asked finally when they did not speak for several seconds.

Shinga nodded. "We would like to talk to you," she said. "Would it be alright if we come in?"

Nira looked at her, still evaluating. "I do not take visitors in my home," she replied. "If you come to the palace tomorrow, we can discuss whatever you would like."

"I'm afraid that isn't possible," Barjl explained. "Please, we really must speak with you."

Being informed that her sudden guests would not be able to come to the palace had obviously raised Nira's suspicions. She closed the door a few inches. It was not enough to be a conscious attempt to block them but was enough to show her strengthened reservations.

"Please," Shinga pleaded simply.

Perhaps it was the tone of her voice or perhaps Nira had simply gotten tired of the standoff, but she opened the door those few extra inches as she stood aside and gestured for them to enter.

The inside of her cottage was a tiny single room with pale earthen walls that looked almost blue. It was sparsely furnished with a rocking chair, a small table, and bed. The rocking chair was placed in front of the fire. The table was against the wall beneath the window farthest from the door. Upon it was a small basin of water. In the corner closest to the fire was the tiny bed. It was covered with a purple blanket. It had a pattern of lilac moons embroidered upon it and was the only brightly coloured thing in the entire room.

"You will have to sit on the floor," Nira said tersely. "I do not usually entertain and I would prefer that the dirt of the road stay out of my bed."

Shinga could not blame the woman for her lack of hospitality given the circumstances. Though it felt strange and awkward, she and Barjl sat upon the floor near the growing fire. Nira sat in the rocking chair, crossed her right leg over her left, and looked down at them. Shinga felt like a powerless child.

"Now, what is so important that you would defile my sanctuary?" Nira asked. After her shock had dissipated, it was obvious it had been replaced with irritation bordering on anger.

As they had agreed, Barjl spoke. They hoped that he would be seen as more trustworthy than Shinga.

He did not tell Nira who they were outright. He did not even jump immediately into defending Shinga. What he chose to do was tell Nira about Earth and the history of the Thinkers. He started at the beginning, at their coming to this universe, giving her a brief glimpse of the changes they went through. Then he spoke of the Thinkers' efforts to become closer to what they once were and their adamant refusal to succumb to the animalistic nature of their physical forms. Through this he spoke of Avorlig and finally Ashyina. When he had framed the situation to what they felt was the most accurate portrayal, he finally mentioned Shinga and her unfortunate past. He spoke of the others who had been harmed such as Uri and Diurd. He spoke of how innocent everyone had been and how devastating it had been to be deceived and hurt by their own people. Though he did not say outright who he was or who Shinga was, the widening of Nira's eyes as he spoke indicated she had figured it out. When he had finished talking, she did not move or speak; only stared at them.

Barjl and Shinga dared not look away or even at each other. The fire continued to pop and crack. Some of the smoke avoided the hole of the chimney and wafted into the room, stinging Shinga's eyes.

Finally, Nira uncrossed her legs, gave a great sigh and said, "Pasc, why did you lie to us?"

The sadness in her voice was quite surprising to Shinga. She looked over at Barjl. He lowered his head and stared at Nira's feet.

"I had to," he whispered.

"And now? Why tell me the truth now?" she asked. Her voice was quiet and shook slightly.

He said nothing.

"Look at me!" she demanded when he did not reply.

He raised his head. After a moment, he chose to answer her. "I did not trust you," he said.

Nira looked stung by this admission. "We were together since you were a small child. I cared for you. We all cared for you!" she yelled. "We all tried to help you and this is what you do to us? You lie and help the biggest enemy of all Thinkers and then dare to return to beg me for understanding? Do you honestly think you deserve that from me? And after all of it, you have the nerve to say you lied because _you_ did not trust _me_?"

"Nira, please, you need to understand," he pleaded. "I know who you are. I know all the mages and they are all noble people. I knew you would act in whatever way you felt was right but the lies of the old Thinkers, these lies that keep being passed down through the leaders, they are so strong, and they have so much backing behind them. How was I ever to trust that you would believe me, a scrawny little boy, over your own Tryailla? Is it fair to tell me you would have? You know that is not true."

These words gave her pause and she considered for many moments. "You are right," she said, "But I still do not understand why you expect me to believe you now."

"Why would I have come back? Why would I have brought Shinga with me to a place where she would be at her most vulnerable?" he asked imploringly.

No muscle in her face moved. "I honestly don't know," she said.

"We want to make a difference, Nira," he continued. "We do not want any more bloodshed. We never did. We wanted justice and an end to the lies. That was all we ever wanted and all we want now."

"I am not sure how it would make a difference for the people to know the truth," she said to their astonishment. How could it not make a difference?

She explained, "To the people of the three races, Shinga has become a legend. It is obvious the legend is bigger than even the old histories themselves. It has a life of its own. She is a fantastical figure used for stories and religion. If the people learn that she has returned, they will know nothing else no matter what anyone says. It will send the people into chaos and likely lead to wars between those who believe and those who don't. You say you do not want bloodshed but that would be precisely what happens if they know she is alive."

Barjl stood and looked as though he had decided to leave. "I expected more from you, Nira. I was wrong to trust that you would do what is right. The truth is right. Justice for Shinga is right. If Ashyina returns and makes herself known, the people will be supporting the real leader of genocide and they will not even know it. The truth needs to be known so that it never happens again. Asking Shinga to be a sacrifice to a dishonest cause is far from the noble advice I had hoped to hear from you."

He reached down to help Shinga to her feet. He would never have bothered. He thought her too capable to need such frivolous help. Shinga was sure he was stalling. When Nira spoke again, he paused in mid bend.

"Sit down," she said impatiently. "For someone who has lived countless lives, you sure do act like a rash, young child sometimes."

Barjl stared at her without moving for another moment before complying with her request. Once he was seated upon the floor once more, she continued.

"I was simply pointing out the flaw in your plan," she explained. "There can never be great change without discomfort. There will be no correction without bloodshed. Tryailla has remained without much change since its creation and has been spared such pangs. Dominans and Tatsu are chaotic even when they are as close as they came to stillness. They will be the places we need to worry about. Tryailla cares for her people here and they trust her. No matter what I think, it is Tryailla who must decide."

Shinga and Barjl both let out long breaths. Shinga only now realized she had been clenching her fists in her lap. With the release of this breath, she forced them to loosen. They ached.

"I will take you to the palace in the morning to speak with her," Nira said.

"No," Barjl blurted. "We will not go to the palace."

Shinga glared at him, confused. This was the entire point of coming to Nira, to get a way into the palace to see Tryailla safely.

"Bring her here," he said.

Nira eyed him suspiciously. "Do not make me regret helping you, Pasc," she warned.

"We are on Tryailla. That is enough compromise," he said as if he had conceded something to her.

"Perhaps this shows that we still do not trust each other," Nira replied without offense. "Very well. I will fetch her and the other mages tomorrow morning." Standing, Nira walked to the table beneath the window and began washing her hands and face in the bowl of water. "You will have to sleep on the floor," she said between splashes. "And, Pasc, I am very mad at you for insisting that everyone know where I live. They will never leave me alone now."

* * *

"Iogrevard!" Tryailla called happily.

Gryp had been sitting in front of the large fireplace in the Great Hall awaiting her entrance. He had been staring at the figures that, to this day, he was convinced Ferra and Dyr had made overtly erotic specifically to irritate him. Though it had worked at the time, he found the figures now evoked a nostalgia that he had never before experienced. He shook his head to clear it of the sentimental thoughts, briefly considering that the Alpha was having a far more profound effect upon him than even he had realized. He stood and nodded firmly in acknowledgement of her greeting.

She raised her arms slightly as though she had planned to hug him. Perhaps she remembered that such intimacy was not common amongst the Wolves, for she hesitated and lowered them again.

"Please, come with me," she said as she tried to hide the misstep.

He said nothing but did as she indicated. He followed as she walked to the large doors that led to the Hall of Spirit.

He remembered this hall well, for he had spent many days seeking refuge from the company of others within it. However, the familiarity did not obscure the fact that leading him to this hall, as a representative of the Wolves, was strange and against current custom.

With her thoughts, she pushed open one of the large doors and stepped aside to allow him to pass. Once inside, she closed the door again using her mind. She turned and walked down the length of the hall and waved a hand for him to join her. They walked side-by-side through the dim light.

"I brought you here so that we would not be disturbed. Since Pasc's betrayal, no one comes in here anymore," she said. Her face lacked any of the smile of her melodramatic greeting.

"I need the advice of a Thinker," she said, explaining her summons. "The Mage of Spirit's departure has put us in an unsure situation. There need to be five mages to protect Tryailla from the angels effectively."

"Oh?" he said, trying to seem unconcerned.

This was news to him. He had never reincarnated upon Tryailla, generally trying to avoid the place. He had never known why there were five mages, assuming it had always had something to do with the five races that had existed. After all, that was why there were five halls.

She shook her head as if admonishing herself. "I keep forgetting that you do not know everything," she chuckled. "Sometimes knowing you were here at the beginning makes me think you know what has happened since. Please, allow me to explain.

"While the first Tryailla's energy was enough to hide us from the angels, our ancestors worried that it would not remain so indefinitely. I believe Ferra was the first to bring up the concern though she never managed to solve the problem in her lifetime. It was not until the abductions started on Dominans and Tatsu that we finally learned something important.

"The people of both planets fear the abductions but they really do not need to worry. The gods had long ago decided to ignore the children of the Thinkers entirely. We are not worth their effort it seems. The abductions stopped when every Thinker who had made himself known to others had been taken. I assume you knew this much as you had taken effort to hide yourself."

Gryp nodded as if she had figured him out completely but he did not speak. He wanted her to continue.

"Not long before the abductions stopped, Dyr had nearly been taken but managed to escape. Unfortunately, it appears that she eventually fell victim to the gods though I hope that she too simply decided to remain hidden. She went missing not long after her initial escape and we have never known her to have returned since. However, her first escape proved invaluable to all our races.

"Each abduction happened in the middle of a circle of five trees. This peculiar fact was discovered very soon after the disappearances restarted. For thousands of years, we never learned more than that and it was nothing more than a peculiar fact until Dyr learned why. As you know, you once told Kiran that three angels had come for you the day you were abducted. However, we believe that under the trance of the angels' call, the victims were always focused ahead. They looked where the angels wanted them to look. Dyr escaped because she was able to resist the trance. She turned to run and found two behind her and at that moment she saw what none had ever noticed before. Each angel stood exactly at the same intervals in the circle as the trees."

Something about this did not seem correct. Gryp thought back to his first experience with angels and recalled watching as a Dragon was lured through the trees and abducted by a single angel. Though he altered his telling as not to give away his true identity, he shared this information with Tryailla.

To his surprise, she smiled and was not deterred. "There were many abductions that were witnessed by other Thinkers and all of them said the same thing. However, Dyr was able to escape not only because she broke the trance but because Igella had followed her. Igella swore there had been one angel and no more but Dyr was adamant that there were five at each tree."

"Do you know why?" Gryp asked.

Tryailla nodded reluctantly, "We think we do and the work based on our theories has been successful so we feel that it has been confirmed. The other angels need to be on a higher plane to make it work. Ideally, we think all five require it. However, one needs to be fully at our vibration to connect with the Thinker being targeted. This angel lures the Thinker into the circle. When the Thinker is in the centre and the other angels begin their work, the Thinker's vibrations are being altered. This alteration is also why they would ensure their subjects were reverted. A Thinker's focus upon a shifted form interfered. As the angels manipulated the vibrations, the energies become closer to the angels' plane of existence. At this in-between time, the one in the circle can see all of them whereas someone not in the circle would see only the angel who has deliberately lowered her vibration."

Gryp considered this for many moments as he recalled his first encounter. He realized that once he had gotten in the circle, once he had been taken, he too saw the three before him.

"The five angels on the circle are crucial," Tryailla continued. "After centuries of experimenting with our own energies, we have finally figured out how it works. The angels used the trees to tap into the energy of the planet itself and the life force of everything upon it. When they combined this with their own energies, when they did it in a circle with five perfectly spaced points, they were able to weave the vibrations into more complex patterns and higher frequencies than would otherwise be possible. It is this process that elevated the energy of the Thinkers themselves to the plane of the gods. If only our ancestors had figured this out sooner, we could have stopped the abductions before we lost so many."

Her tone had become morose and she seemed as though she lacked the energy to continue. He wanted to tell her to explain more. What did the five mages really do? He wanted to know everything. The Alpha would have shared it all with him but he suspected there was a similar issue with her as with what Tryailla had admitted. They simply did not realize how much he did not already know. He and the Alpha had focused upon the stones. They had never discussed mages. He had never thought it mattered.

Given that he was supposed to be Lapidus, he felt that being callous to Tryailla would not help his image. Instead, he nodded vaguely with his eyes focused upon the floor and said nothing, hoping that she would simply think him understanding.

After several moments without either speaking, he felt it might finally be appropriate enough for him to urge her onwards. "This does not explain the mages' importance," he remarked, hoping he sounded more contemplative and considering than abrupt and impatient.

Tryailla jolted slightly as if she had just realized she had not finished. After a quick breath as she appeared to sort her thoughts once more, she said, "Yes, I was going to explain. Over the years of experimentation by my ancestors, they learned more and more the intricacies of this technique. The first thing they learned was that only an angel's energy can accomplish these changes in the vibrations."

"Then how has this helped you?" he asked, thinking this further made no sense in reference to the five protectors of the planet.

She nodded as she continued, "An angel or at least one with the blood of one must be involved. Unfortunately, as Fagan and I are only half an angel each, our energies must be joined when the power of a full angel is required. The ritual involved to do this has been passed down through the generations of my family.

"But as there is only one angel between the two of us, we are useless alone. Luckily, some of my ancestors proved more intelligent than I am. They figured out how to fake the presence of five angels. They sought out those Thinkers and children who held the strongest energies within themselves and also had the greatest control over it. Not only that, they looked for those who had willingness to their thought, to the core of their beings.

"Through the rite, my ancestors guided the angelic energy into the five they had chosen. The energy was accepted so willingly and added to the immense strength of the others, that it worked better than we could have hoped even if not perfectly."

"I do not understand," Gryp said, trying to make sense of what she was telling him.

She looked around the dark Hall of Spirit. Finally, she said, "The mages act as amplifiers. They allow the angelic energy to absorb their own. They are not angels. They do not have the ability of the angels, but after the rite they are close enough. We cannot put even a single person upon the plane of the gods but we have managed to push the limits of this energy to protect Tryailla. The dome that encases the palace, you must have noticed it when you arrived."

He nodded.

"That is the outline of the epicentre of the energy," she explained. "The full extent of this energy envelopes the entire planet. To any who do not know how to see, Tryailla is slightly out of the physical plane. It vibrates just enough faster that the angels cannot see us, at least, the centuries of peace have made us believe that to be the case."

"You don't know?" he said, slightly amused, slightly surprised.

Unfortunately, her brow creased and he worried he had offended her. "Of course we don't," she said. "We cannot see what the angels can see. It may not have worked at all. Our only evidence is that despite what Dominans and Tatsu have endured, we have remained safe and untouched."

He nodded in acknowledgement of her explanation but felt it was time to move on. "What advice do you need about the mages?" he asked.

With a heavy sigh, she replied, "How to find an appropriate replacement in such strained circumstances. Pasc broke our trust and now I am also afraid of finding someone else who will turn out to be an ally of our enemies. What if I pick the reincarnation of Gryp? The protection of Tryailla is so important. To have a saboteur amongst us could result in the end of all of us."

A thought occurred to him that terrified him for the simple fact that he had no idea if it could be catastrophic or entirely benign. "Did Pasc know the truth of the angels?"

"As he was Barjl, he may have," she answered, "But we never tell the mages the full truth. They know how the energies work. They know what their purpose is generally but they have no idea about the gods and the angels. Ferra, Dyr, and Igella had long ago decided that the traitors amongst the Thinkers were a sign that being open with such information held too many risks. Only those with the mark know the truth and it will remain that way. You are the first who was not already a leader who has been given it."

They stared at each other. Tryailla's face gave away none of her thoughts or emotions. Gryp's mind was spinning with this new information. He thought about Vanagandr. How many times did the wolf come to him with four companions he could not see? Mentally shaking himself, he thought of the most recent events. Minne had said Vanagandr had been missing. Vanagandr had hidden motives but he was alone in following Gryp. However, it did make him wonder how much the wolf was around when he did not know it. No wonder it had been so hard to outwit him.

"What should I do?" Tryailla asked again, a slight pleading in her tone.

As the fire of the torches could be heard flicking around in a faint breeze, he forced himself to refocus upon her eyes. He was at a complete loss. Even if he were Lapidus, her question seemed like one of a fragile child desperately seeking rescue. He had never seen her like this but, more strangely, he felt a twinge of pity.

"There is nothing different that you can do," he said bluntly. "Unless you can learn to read the most obscure depths of their minds, and even then, that likely would not have worked with Barjl, you will never know if you can truly trust a mage you have chosen. As discomfiting as that may be, you must accept it and learn to live with that risk."

She blinked back at him.

"I must return to Dominans," he said. "I need to look into some records in the archives." This was a complete lie but he felt Tryailla's immediate usefulness had passed and the idea of socialization was unbearable.

Her eyes turned to the floor. "I will have the ship take you back," she offered and led him from the hall.

# Chapter 11

Gryp's paranoia was frenzied. First Vanagandr's female visitor then what he learned from Tryailla. He was now wary of everything and never trusted his sight alone.

He found himself standing before the Alpha's chamber door in the middle of the night, hoping desperately to unload his mind and receive reassurance. Though there was still the twinge of shame at his weakness, the temptation of a friend being able to ease his concerns overwhelmed it.

He waited for the old woman to come to the door in response to his knocking. He had thought the long length of time had simply been due to his worry. When the door opened slowly and she peeked around it, he knew there was a much worse reason. Her skin was ashen except for several spots where the grey speckled fur of a wolf had replaced it. She slumped against the door, allowing it to prop her up.

"What is it Gryp? What has happened?" she asked. Her eyes fluttered slightly as her own concern battled with her fatigue. The fur still had not disappeared.

Reaching forward, he took her arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. She allowed him to help her back to the plank by the fire. As he eased her down onto it, he said, "Custom or not, you should get yourself a real bed and allow your body a true sleep."

She scoffed. "I will die before I lower myself enough to revert."

"I fear you will get your wish," he whispered.

With a small chuckle, she reached up with great effort to touch his face. "It will not be tonight, my Gryp. You will have me pestering you for some time," she said. Her face hardened as she seemed to remember her unanswered questions. "What has happened?" she asked.

Having her dying before his eyes made his previous concerns seem frivolous no matter how large they might have actually been. He did not want her to think he had bothered her for nothing so he shared the meeting he had had with Tryailla and his renewed concerns about Vanagandr's possible allies.

She closed her eyes as she listened. A few times, he was unsure if she had fallen asleep but when he would pause or his voice would falter at such times, she would tell him in a stern voice to continue.

When he was finished, she took a deep breath, which he suspected was to gain enough strength for talking.

"You do not need to fear Vanagandr," she said. "The five angels were needed only for ascension to the gods' realm. They were not necessary to lower an angel to our plane. Tryailla visited Kiran many times and even lived amongst us without any of the angels knowing."

He considered her words quietly and could find no fault with her logic.

She spoke again. "I would have told you this myself if I had known this was information you lacked."

"Is there anything else that you have learned about the angels and the gods that I should know?" he asked.

She shook her head. "We have had little opportunity to learn anything. Our efforts to defend ourselves against the gods are nearly blind. I had often wondered why, if the gods are so afraid of what we could do, why they don't destroy us all before we learn whatever that is. Obviously they know where most of us are and we are weak compared to them."

Gryp nodded in agreement. It was always the strangest fact of all. Vanagandr had said it was because they feared Shinga and Ashyina but what would stop them when those two were obviously not around? And why did the gods fear them enough to be afraid even to approach them? Could they not just destroy all Thinkers and children before Shinga and Ashyina became powerful enough to challenge them?

For the rest of the night and the next day, Gryp stayed with the Alpha. She did not truly sleep. Her lack of reversion was evidence enough of that. She remained silent, simply holding his hand. He hoped she gained some comfort from his presence.

* * *

Minyera had spent almost the entire night awake, only falling asleep when she could smell the morning dew in the garden. When she awoke, she had a pillow over her head. She was not sure if it was even daytime.

To her pain and dismay, it was fully morning. She rolled over in bed to face the windows. The bright light stabbed at her eyes, forcing her to squint.

Far from what she had hoped, Lapidus' visit had not only failed to be helpful but had given her self-confidence a strong blow. He had been awkward with her. Somehow, she had hoped a Thinker would be trusting and open to her and she could not help but wonder if he did not trust the extent of her abilities. Not only that, his realistic advice had only confirmed her fears. The cracks in her trust of the people would be permanent fixtures in her life.

With a groan, she rolled away from the unfriendly light and pulled the pillow back onto her head. Why had her parents insisted that she and Fagan were ready for this?

"Get up!" Fagan called from the other room. He sounded urgent. Had she really offended Lapidus so thoroughly that it had caused a diplomatic incident?

"What is it?" she asked, sitting up abruptly in bed. Her pillow fell to the ground.

He walked briskly into the room. He had obviously already been up for some time as he was fully dressed in a long white shirt and loose brown pants and his eyes had no hint of sleep left in them.

"Nira came running into the hall this morning insisting that she speak with us. She says it is urgent," he explained.

After unsuccessfully stifling a yawn, Minyera asked, "Do I have time to get dressed?"

"Only if you hurry," Fagan replied as he reached across the bed to pull her by the arm.

His tugging counteracted her natural sense of balance. She nearly fell out of the bed but managed to recover in a less than graceful flail to standing upright. Shaking his hand off her arm, she walked to the tall wardrobe and opened it.

The inside was a mess. When she was most stressed, it was at its least organized. Now she was faced with a large wall of wrinkled clothes stuffed into whatever crevasses she had found at the time. Grabbing at the corner of some light blue garment that poked out further than the rest, she tugged. The wall of clothes fell on top of her. Through the avalanche, she was still trying to make sense of what she had grabbed. She trudged her way through the newly-fallen, fabric precipitation so that she could put it on. Apparently, she had grabbed a light blue shirt that went to the floor but had slits up the sides to the waist. To her irritation, she returned to the pile of clothes to pick pants of dark blue to put under it for decency.

Turning to Fagan, she stood awaiting his appraisal.

"Everything appears to be in the right place," he said and the two of them walked briskly to the main hall.

The others were already assembled. Only one mage was missing. Minyera stopped and checked herself. There were four gathered. None were missing. The twinge of an uncomfortable memory stabbed at her gut. She forced it away. Looking at Nira, she awaited her explanation.

The hall was not empty and Nira looked around nervously, obviously considering this fact. When she spoke, it was in hushed tones and cryptic words. "Two guests showed up at my cottage last night," she said. "They wish to speak with you directly."

After the heartbeat it took for Minyera to figure out who the two were, she pulled herself up tall. She was in control. She could handle it.

"Why did they not come with you?" she asked.

"They are wary of trusting us outright," Nira explained.

Minyera could not help but scoff. The two most notorious Thinkers were afraid of anyone? But she kept her derision in check as she considered the facts of the situation. "Do you believe they will still be there when we arrive?" she asked.

Nira nodded before adding, "They seem quite convinced that you need to hear them out. They have told me a version of our history that I have never before heard."

Her instinctive response to this was to distrust anything they might have said. She knew the histories more intimately than anyone. The most important aspects had directly affected her own family. No other Cat except Fagan knew as much as she did about what surrounded them. To hear a different form of events seemed unlikely.

Then she considered a new possibility. What if Shinga and Barjl had told Nira about the gods? Were they freely sharing such sensitive information? Then she considered the immediate tangible threat of Shinga and Barjl themselves.

"Do you think we can trap them?" She asked Nira, whose eyes widened.

Minyera was not entirely sure why Nira was showing surprise at such a suggestion. It was logical to approach the most violent and deranged fugitives of all the races with caution. To trust such dangerous people would be incredibly foolish. Perhaps Nira had expected her to give them a fair hearing first.

After another moment, Nira's eyes relaxed. She looked down as if considering her answer. "It is possible," she said finally, "But they can teleport themselves in an instant and without the aid of any vessels. They could easily escape."

Minyera turned to Fagan to ask without words what he thought.

None but their ancestors could teleport without the amplification created by the rare crystal used to make the vessels. That alone made the threat posed by the two visitors more substantial. They could come and go as they pleased.

Fagan would not be discouraged. "No one can teleport into or out of the palace," he said aloud. "The vibrations this close to the centre of the barrier are too chaotic."

"No doubt that is why they refuse to meet here," Minyera said.

He nodded. "We could try to encase Nira's cottage in a similar bubble," he suggested.

"Without five mages, can such a thing even be created?" she wondered aloud. The histories and the experiments had shown there must always be five.

"There must be five to elevate the vibrations consistently, but what if we simply tried to create an area of distortion in which the vibrations are slightly more chaotic and more difficult to work with? It might at least slow them down." His voice lacked conviction in his own plan.

"That would still be incredibly difficult and how would we perform the rite nearby enough without them realizing we were there?" she asked. She realized her tone sounded strained but she genuinely hoped he had a solution.

"We might not need to," he said. "It is only the small cottage we need to encase and the rite was performed only a year ago, the mages should still have enough of our halo in them to perform the task."

She considered. Fagan always called the result of the rite their "halo" when they were in public.

Performing the rite usually happened only once in a lifetime. The mages retained much of the angelic energy within themselves for years afterwards. It was how the barrier stayed strong. Any of the mages could easily strengthen it the moment they noticed any weakness.

He was likely right that such a small area as a lone cottage would be easier to encase but it would not be as stable a barrier as the rite itself would create. It would also mean that they would have to perform the rite sooner than expected in the future because the energy within the mages themselves would be depleted far more quickly. Despite all of this, it was still the fact that they lacked that crucial fifth that worried her the most but she saw no viable alternative.

"We will have to try it," she announced. "Nira, lead the way."

They made the hike to Nira's cabin before midday. When they neared the final turn in the path, Nira indicated for the others to stop.

The most difficult aspect of their plan would be getting the mages to surround the cottage at equidistant intervals while still remaining unknown to those inside.

They decided that Minyera and Fagan would enter the cottage alone. In those initial moments, the mages would move into place. They hoped the entrance of the two rulers would be distraction enough.

The mages would have to stay low in the brush, which would further hinder their efforts. It was simply luck that the mage who would have to travel the furthest happened to be the one who was the most familiar with the surroundings. As the water mage, Nira had to be in the west, which was on the far side of the cottage from where the path emerged from the rocky canyon.

Strangely, it was Entien who looked the most nervous despite being the one who had to travel the least distance. Of course, this also meant she was closer to the forest edge where the vegetation was sparse. The brothers Alder and Andred looked determined whatever else they may have been feeling. Minyera thought they had never looked more alike as they did with their set jaws. With firm nods exchanged amongst them, Minyera and Fagan stood tall and continued to the end of the path.

The air was finally losing the last crispness of the morning, giving way to the ambient heat reflecting off the rocks. The warmth had already penetrated the trees as was evidenced by the smell of the warm bark in the air. Though most of the birds had long since gone silent, too busy with their daily activities to sing, the occasional high-pitched tone came from the distance. There was nothing that indicated what lay in wait for them inside the tiny cottage.

Just as they were close enough to knock on the door, it swung open and a tall, muscular, dark-haired man was looking back at them. His eyes were narrowed and his shoulders back. The site of the man before her surprised Minyera slightly. She had been expecting the boy she had known as Pasc to open the door. She silently berated herself for such a notion. He was bound by his disguise no longer. The forlorn Pasc whom she had tried to help was a story. In reality, there had been only Barjl who now stood in his true form before her.

"Please come in," he said as he stepped aside to allow them entrance.

They did as requested.

The light in the cottage was dim. Their eyes had trouble adjusting but they could see well enough to make out the voluptuous figure of a woman sitting on the floor by the hearth. There was no fire to illuminate her form.

This woman was no doubt Shinga. She too had shed her former shape as the girl Poria. Her erect posture showed none of the same worries and insecurities of the girl just emerging into womanhood. Poria, the youth who had charmed her, was no more.

Barjl gestured for them to sit as he took a spot on the floor next to Shinga. Though Minyera and Fagan briefly looked at the rocking chair, they opted to sit together on the floor across from Shinga and Barjl. They waited for the fugitives to speak.

"What has Nira told you?" Barjl asked.

"Very little," Minyera replied. "Only that you wish to share an alternative history with us."

He nodded to which she gestured with her hand for him to proceed.

Immediately, he began telling them a well-rehearsed tale that painted Shinga has a victim whose only excursions into violence were to receive the justice she was denied by selfish liars or in her efforts to end conflict. Minyera was impressed that they were able to contrive such a thorough tale that accounted for much of their histories but she was not convinced. The only fact that became apparent during the telling was that neither Barjl nor Shinga knew of the gods or the angels.

When Barjl had completed his fabrication of betrayal, he said, "Now that we have told you the truth, will you help us correct matters? The hatred and fear of Shinga is not right and it is hurting all the remaining races."

Minyera mentally poked at the surrounding energies, hoping it looked more as if she were contemplating what to say. She had no more reason to believe their innocence at this moment than she had before Barjl had shared his story. However, she did want to determine if the four mages had managed to put the barrier into place. The energies fizzed and tickled at her senses. The barrier was present though weak and unstable. It lacked the necessary cohesion that could be achieved through the presence of the fifth mage. This was worrying though there was little that could be done at the moment but hope.

"You don't believe us," came Shinga's quiet voice, breaking through Minyera's focus.

"We never said that," Minyera defended as she glanced nervously at Fagan.

His face was entirely expressionless. Her empathic bond to him gave her no other clues. He seemed to be still contemplating what he had just heard, which surprised her as she figured he would as easily dismiss the fable as she.

When Shinga spoke again, her voice was quiet. Minyera wondered if she could indeed be as sad as she now sounded.

"Barjl, I have only one way left to convince them," she said.

His eyes grew wide but he said nothing. Shinga squared her shoulders and raised her eyes to look directly into Minyera's. They were entirely unguarded. Shinga was unafraid to bare all. Perhaps Fagan's reservations were warranted.

"Your mages seem incapable of creating a strong enough barrier to hold me," she continued. "But I will convince you by doing something I have not done since that horrible lifetime. I will trust a Child if only to ensure that you will learn to trust me. I cannot continue like this. I am still angry after all this time but I am sad too. I am sad for what could have been and what I feel needs to be but fearful it will never come to pass. You think I am a monster and no doubt hoped to trap me here. I feared you would capture me and try to destroy me. If my story alone cannot convince even one so far removed from Ashyina's influence, then I have no other hope left." Standing, Shinga looked through the window as if trying to see the mages amongst the trees.

"Come out," she called. "I will let you take me. I will not fight or try to disappear but you must leave Barjl unharmed not matter what you do to me."

"Shinga ..." Barjl whispered. Her words and her determination seemed to have humbled him. Minyera was confused. Was this all a trick to lower her guard?

Shinga looked into Barjl's eyes and neither spoke for several seconds. The edges of her lashes began to glisten but Minyera saw no tears fall.

"I am tired of this, Barjl," she said. "I am tired of the running and the fear. These Cats are not like Ashyina. If they had wanted to kill me, they would have tried by now. Without a proper barrier to hold me, they will never fully trust that I do not intend to kill them. You should leave. You have given up too many lifetimes for me. I do not want you hurt again."

He straightened as if she had offended him. "I stay with you," he said.

She nodded before looking back at Minyera. "Your mages obviously have chosen to ignore me. Order them as you will, I will comply."

Minyera nodded slowly and ordered the mages to drop the feeble barrier and appear. A few moments later, the sounds of twigs cracking and leaves rustling began to close in on the cottage. Minyera gestured for Barjl and Shinga to go outside. As promised, they obeyed. Minyera and Fagan followed behind.

The journey back to the palace was much slower. Despite the apparent victory, the mages moved under the weight of their confusion. The strange offering Shinga had given had pushed Minyera and Fagan into disquiet while Shinga and Barjl were the subjugated prisoners. An outsider would have suspected them of travelling to a funeral rite.

By the time they reached the palace, the sun had set. Only the faintest pink glow remained on the horizon. Bright lanterns on either side of the grand arch had been lit and guided those travelling from afar.

There were no travellers this evening but the door to the palace remained open and welcoming. Minyera held up a hand to stop the group.

"Fagan, check to see if there is anyone in the Great Hall," she instructed.

He did as she asked and returned with a shake of his head. This was a small relief. Shinga's presence would not be received well even by the Tryaillan people and there was only one place Minyera knew would be a suitable cell for Shinga.

She led the group under the arch and into the empty hall. She walked straight for the five pointed star in the middle of the floor. It had been added centuries before, not long after the importance of the five points had been discovered. The mages walked to their places at each point. Awkwardly, Barjl stopped upon the fifth and only moved after he noticed the barely veiled scowls from the others. Minyera moved to fill the vacancy. She and the mages separated the circle from the surrounding floor and moved it down through a long shaft.

Once she and the mages sealed the opening behind them, it was pitch black. She was not afraid of Shinga or Barjl taking advantage of her lack of sight. Now that they were within the palace barrier, her ability to sense surrounding energies was heightened. She could sense them far better than she could in the small cottage in daylight.

They felt exactly how they appeared; defeated. She was determined not to be led into a trap built by a false sense of security. She could not give into their story but Shinga was doing exactly what she had promised and she was so incredibly sad. Minyera wanted to believe them now but she could not afford it.

The platform on which they stood emerged from the shaft several minutes later. They were in a room only slightly larger than the Great Hall itself. The walls were the dark natural red of the bedrock of Tryailla. There were no lights within the room but it was still bright enough to see though not enough for the eyes to determine how to react. The residual angelic energy kept the room permanently aglow.

"Where are we?" Shinga asked quietly.

"It is where the magic to reinforce the barrier is worked," Barjl replied.

Minyera nodded as she added, "And it is where the barrier is at its strongest."

The muscles in Shinga's jaw tensed. "I would have kept my promise whether locked away or not," she said.

"You want us to trust you but trust is earned," Minyera explained.

"How long do we have to stay down here before that happens?" Barjl asked.

Minyera looked at Fagan. When in a place that enhanced their energies so well, they could come very close to true telepathy with each other.

Minyera was mostly inclined to do exactly what she thought she would always do in this situation. She would send for the Alpha, Lapidus, and the Draigo to confer with them. Lapidus had wanted to seek her out. His search would be over.

Fagan had reservations. They agreed to summon the others, particularly Lapidus, but he would not simply hand Shinga over without any care as to what would happen. The others needed to hear her story as well and make up their own minds.

Minyera turned back to the prisoners. They were watching her. They did not speak.

"You will stay down here until the Draigo, Alpha, and Lapidus have arrived," she explained.

Barjl clenched his fists. Minyera expected him to lunge at her. Shinga's gaze did not waver from her.

Finally, it became too much for Barjl. He marched forward, looking as though he wanted to break every bone in the Minyera's body. Fagan stepped between them.

"Calm yourself," he urged. "We will not simply hand you over to them. "

"That doesn't matter!" Barjl boomed. "You lied to us. Lapidus is alive? How can we hope to convince anyone of anything? Lapidus was one of the worst offenders for slandering Shinga. He will destroy her if he is put in the same room with her. He has nothing to gain by listening to her story, at least no more than he did back then."

"I have made no judgements about you, Barjl," Fagan explained calmly and with the sincere compassion that Minyera had seen his show many times. "We are simply taking a precaution. We cannot hope to hide you here forever, even if we did believe you. You will be safe here just as others will be safe from you."

"You have us trapped in a cage!" Barjl screamed, throwing his hands up in the air.

Fagan put his hand on Barjl's shoulder. Though the gesture was one that would have been shared between brothers, it did not seem out of place. Perhaps it was the potency of Fagan's sincerity, but Barjl accepted the gesture and relaxed his shoulders.

"We are trying to trust you too," Barjl said quietly. "Show us we can."

Fagan nodded. "I give you my word and the word of Tryailla herself that we will keep you safe."

"That is a dangerous promise," Barjl replied. "When the others convince you that we are liars, it will be a difficult one to keep."

"Perhaps," Fagan said with a shrug. "But I have made it and how difficult or not it is to keep is my problem."

Barjl did not reply. Minyera took this as compliance and felt it the appropriate time to leave. She returned to the platform. Fagan and the four remaining mages followed.

# Chapter 12

Though Yuje couldn't expect Iogrevard to babysit him at all times, he was becoming increasingly frustrated with the man's frequent and extended absences for the simple fact that he was bored. His time in the streets had given him skills in coping with hours of nothing do to but even those skills had their limits and as his time with Iogrevard had been quickly turning from weeks to months and as he seemed to be the only person who truly understood him, Yuje found his tolerance for the long hours of nothingness fading rapidly.

The recruit now sitting terrified across the table from him, stared determinedly at the wall over his left shoulder. Even their fear of him was becoming tiring. When he finally decided to speak, the man's jolt of terror was not nearly as amusing as it would have been in his first days in his prison.

"Do you know Das?" he asked the boy.

The recruit simply stared like a frightened animal.

"Das?" Yuje repeated. "The recruits' healer? Do you know her?"

More staring.

With a heavy sigh, Yuje leaned forward as he attempted to explain simple reality to the boy. "I have been here for nearly two months. Every day one of you sits here with me and every single day you all stare at the wall, refusing to talk. If I am going to be the cause of your deaths, why has none of your fellows died? Why is every single one of you unscathed?"

The boy blinked and Yuje hoped that meant his words had finally penetrated some logical part of the youth's brain.

"Now, do you know Das?" he asked again.

The recruit nodded.

"Good!" Yuje replied. "Would you be able to get her for me?"

"I-I-I c-can't leave you alone," the boy said.

Yuje laughed, which only seemed to scare the recruit more. "Out of all these weeks, have I attempted to escape even once? For the first time in my life I have shelter and a steady supply of food. Why would I give all that up to return to the life of a starving, freezing outcast?"

Though Yuje could see his logic penetrating once more, the recruit replied, "I will get in trouble."

"I won't tell anyone," Yuje countered. "It's hours until a changeover. Wouldn't you rather let Das watch over me anyway?"

The recruit considered the request for several more moments before coming to a realization that seemed to make him quite comfortable. "I will call someone to get her for you," he suggested happily.

"Fine," Yuje replied. "That works for me."

He leaned back in his chair and watched the recruit go to the door. The boy called down the hall. Within moments, Yuje could see a black-haired recruit just outside the doorway.

To both his babysitter's and his own surprise, the black-haired recruit offered to watch Yuje while the other went in search of Das. Despite Yuje's argument that none of the recruits who had looked after him had come to harm, the boy's fear was obviously in control, for he eagerly accepted the offer and ran down the hall.

The black-haired recruit entered the room and closed the door.

Yuje resigned himself to several more minutes of awkward silence before he realized the recruit was still standing at the door. Was his hair a little longer? Was it lighter too?

When Yuje realized that the form of the recruit was actually changing before his eyes and he was not simply seeing things, he fell out of his chair. Terrible flashes of Lilith and angels came back to him as he tried to push his way back into a corner.

When the figure turned around, he saw that it was a strong-faced woman. Her ashen brown hair was braided thickly down her back. Over her forehead and one side of her face vines of gold appeared to grow. Upon her sternum rested an intricate pendant of a woman.

"I thought I would never get you alone," she said. "I am Minne."

Yuje stared at her. His fingers were involuntarily clawing at the floor beneath him as he tried fruitlessly to push farther away from her than the corner would allow. His behaviour seemed to confuse her. She began to walk towards him as if to examine him, stopping only when a whimper escaped him.

"Lapidus, what's wrong?" she asked quietly as she bent over to peer into his face. If Yuje had not been so traumatized by his lifetime of nightmares, her gentle tone would have evoked instant trust. As it was, he was still attempting to escape. For the first time in weeks, he wanted someone to come guard him.

She straightened. "I would have expected someone who has escaped Lilith on so many occasions to be more ..." She stopped herself.

Her mention of Lilith, her strange shifting of shape, it all confused him. In desperation he sought some form of solace. Iogrevard, the first to be so understanding and knowledgeable of his situation had said the angels and gods were a fantasy. His insanity was causing the vision before himself now surely. He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that the muscles sparked with pain.

"This isn't real. This isn't real," he said over and over. When Minne tried to interrupt, he added, "I am imagining this. I passed out with that recruit watching me. This is not real."

When Yuje felt the soft touch of arms embracing him and pulling him close to a woman's body, he opened his eyes and was horrified and confused to see that Minne was holding him. She felt very real but so too did all of his nightmares.

"Lilith is not here," she whispered, "And I can promise you that I am very real, Lapidus. I am on your side. You do not need to fear me."

A particularly large pop burst from one of the logs on the fire. It distracted him only for a second but long enough for his brain to run through every scenario. To his own dismay, the only conclusion he could make was that he had no way of knowing what was real anymore and that he was powerless. As he sat in the clutches of Minne, she silently stroked his hair.

After several more moments, the situation became too surreal for him to handle. Grabbing her arms, he forced as much distance between them as he could before scrambling to his feet. She did not follow. She remained kneeling upon the floor, watching his reaction. It was the freedom she was allowing him that did not make him run straight for the door. Her calm face and relaxed muscles made him consider that even if he tried, she would not intervene. He paced the room to expend the energy of his racing mind.

"Lapidus," she called quietly.

"Stop calling me that," he grunted. "I am Yuje."

She did not let this tiny matter drop. It seemed it was the one escape she would not allow him. Rising to her feet, she insisted, "You are Lapidus. You are the greatest Thinker ever to have lived except for Ashyina and Shinga. You are the only to have escaped Lilith not once but several times and I have come to find out how you did it."

With this, he stopped pacing and stared at her. The reflections of firelight danced on her gold ivy, making her form appear to sparkle. Her eyes remained impassive.

"Who are you again?" he asked.

"I am Minne, angelic captive of the God Hœnir," she replied.

"Angels and gods aren't real," he said with more hope than conviction.

She raised an eyebrow. "And yet you remember the constant torture Lilith made you endure?"

"Nightmares, just nightmares," Yuje replied. He twitched in a motion to restart pacing but stopped himself to look at her. "You said captive. What do you mean captive?" he asked.

His question confused her. "Exactly what it means," she replied.

"Then how are you here?"

She smiled a little too kindly at him. "Not all prisons have walls of stone," she replied. Seeing that he had calmed substantially, she walked towards the table and took the recruit's chair. "I, like all angels, am a prisoner," she explained. "If your memory were a little clearer, I am sure you would remember that much."

Her words did bring back something to him. They tickled at his brain, making him feel as though it would physically wrap itself around the tidbit to make sense of it. Just as the uncomfortable sensation climaxed, he remembered. He remembered Tryailla.

"But Tryailla said angels had no free will. She was the only one," he reasoned.

"That is what she knew, yes," Minne replied. "No one's knowledge is infinite or perfect. The gods removed their free will to make their prison. For those of us who were conquered, the gods fashioned an entirely different one. It is one I have been trying to escape much longer than you have been a Thinker and you are the only one who can show me how."

Yuje laughed cynically. "I can't even tell what is real. I am of no help to anyone. Iogrevard was right. This is all just some crazy creation of my mind."

"No!" Minne insisted. "This is real, Lapidus. Your trust in Iogrevard is misguided."

"He's helped me more than you or any of your kind has," Yuje replied with a low growl, but his threatening tone did nothing to the woman before him.

"You think he has helped you but he has been trying to convince you that you are insane. How is that help?" she asked.

"Because I am insane," he shouted. "I am insane! My own mind has done nothing but destroy my life. Not even those of the cults believe gods and angels to exist. No one has ever thought such things, so why do I?"

Minne put her hands upon the table and rapped her fingers impatiently for several moments. Finally, she looked up at him abruptly and said, "Fine, let's ignore the fact that there are gods and angels. For a moment, let us speak as if there is nothing except Thinkers and their sordid past. Let me ask you, then, do you believe you are Lapidus?"

Yuje looked around the room as if the fire and the stones would explain his life to him. "I-I don't know," he replied sheepishly.

"The one you trust so implicitly even says you are," she said.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he asked, "How did you know that?"

"While we are pretending angels and gods are fiction, I have no explanation," she replied. "But, even he says you are, so for our argument, will you assume you are?"

He nodded.

She let out a relieved breath. "Good," she said. "Now, even those who know nothing more than legend would know that Lapidus of all people would not be a consort of Shinga, correct?"

He nodded.

Placated, she continued, "My real question then, is why would anyone knowing you are Lapidus feel hiding such a fact would be better for you than telling the people the truth? Lapidus is considered a saviour. Though the memory of him has mostly faded, he would still likely be revered and welcomed. Your life would be fixed."

When he said nothing, for he was truly confused himself, she asked, "Who then would benefit from weakening the greatest Thinker of all? Which Thinker turned on all of his own kind, betraying all?"

"Gryp," Yuje whispered without hesitation.

Nodding firmly in agreement, Minne leaned back in her chair. "I happen to know that Iogrevard is Gryp and he is fully aware of this fact. And if we can return to the full reality outside our little argument, I also happen to know that a fellow angelic captive has been guiding his every move since the Whispering War."

With these revelations, Lapidus began to breathe heavily with rage. All at once he remembered what Gryp had done. He had been the greatest traitor of all. Lapidus had been manipulated and used by one so vile? His body could barely stand it. His blood burned on its path through his veins. "You are telling me," he seethed, "that he has been working for the gods against his own people?"

She shrugged. "Not quite," she replied. "He thought he was working for the gods, trying to save his own skin it looks like. But Vanagandr is like me, trying to escape, and he has been using Gryp to find out how to do it. If you can tell me how you did it, all the angelic captives can do it and we can destroy the usurpers as we have always wanted."

Lapidus was still breathing heavily. His eyes flicked around wildly as his mind returned to spiralling speed. "I can't remember how," he said. "I am trying to remember. I am trying to bring it back this time and it won't come. It ..." He cut off. His eyes widened. He felt the blood drain from his face.

"What is it?" Minne asked, leaning forward again.

"I'm not even sure I have," he said.

"What do you mean? Of course you have, you are right here," she reasoned. "This is real, Lapidus. I swear to you it is real."

He shook his head. "That's not what I mean. I know this is real now. It is all returning to me, everything except how I escaped. I am not sure I really did. I am not sure she didn't simply let me go."

Now it was Minne whose face drained of colour. Gripping the table for support, she forced herself to stand. It wobbled a little as it moved slightly and one leg landed in a depression in the floor. "What do you mean?" she rasped. "Lilith does not let anyone go. She is filled with too much hate. She has never let anyone go. Even Hœnir knows not to cross her and he is one of the most powerful gods. She delights in denying mercy. She would never have let you go."

"I don't know why," Lapidus said, "But I am feeling more and more sure that that is exactly what she did."

Minne was terrified and she looked quickly around the room as if to confirm they were alone. "She had a reason," she said. "She is using you for something, which means she is watching you." She closed her eyes, clenched her fists and muttered something to herself. Lapidus recognized the self-berating gesture.

"The barrier," Minne finally whispered as she opened her eyes. "The gods cannot see within the barrier that surrounds this place. They are seeking Vanagandr. You are her spy!"

Lapidus was incensed. "I would never do anything for that bitch," he yelled. "If I knew how, I would rip her head from her body and make sure she suffered an irreversible death."

"You have no choice. She sent you here so that you would find Vanagandr, maybe she even hoped that you would find Tryailla for her. Whether you want to give her any information is irrelevant, she will have it in your memories. When you emerge from the barrier, I am sure she will take you back."

Lapidus was becoming equally terrified but also annoyed. "What barrier?" he demanded.

"The barrier from The First Place," she explained. "It is the place from which all in this universe was created. Dominans was the first planet."

"Dominans is not the centre of the universe," he countered.

"That means nothing," she replied. "It is still the first but that doesn't matter now. Lilith will know Vanagandr is here and she will know I am trying to escape. The gods will destroy me when they find out. I can't have you knowing any of this. I can't have her find you."

"Then I will never leave," he replied confidently.

Minne scoffed, "What happens when you die and are reborn? What happens in those first few years of your life when you remember nothing? She will know it is you. She will have made sure she could find you again. You cannot know. It jeopardizes everything when we are so close to reversing it all!"

Walking around the table, she said, "I cannot risk her knowing. I cannot risk any of this. Too many Gemini have died already."

"What are you talking about?" Lapidus demanded as she placed a hand upon his chest and the other upon the side of his head.

To his horror, he realized too late that he should have kept his distance.

"I am sorry, Lapidus," she whispered as he felt a painful shock go through his brain.

* * *

With the Alpha in such frail condition, Gryp refused to leave her side. He did not want to lose his only friend and he did not want her to die alone. They had talked no more since he first arrived. Occasionally, she would open her eyes to look at him or even give a weak smile but even that seemed too much. Though she had kept her promise and did not die in the night, he was sure her death was simply waiting for her guard to be down. He hoped his presence would keep it at bay.

It was a great irritation and surprise when the silent room was filled with the echo of knocking on door. The Alpha opened her eyes only briefly to stare at the ceiling but closed them again when Gryp patted her hand reassuringly.

Gryp was barely on his feet when the knocking came more rapidly and more forcefully. He had not even crossed the chamber before it came a third time. When he opened the door, Folg stood with his hand raised to knock a fourth time.

He jolted and blinked as he realized who was looking back at him instead of the Alpha.

"What is it?" Gryp asked.

Regaining himself, the man stood at attention and barked out his message. "Tryailla has sent word there is an urgent matter upon their planet. You, the Alpha, and the Draigo have all been summoned. They have requested you come immediately. Their vessel is awaiting you outside the gates."

Gryp looked back at the old woman lying upon the plank and feared that such travel would be too much for her. He turned to explain to the general that she would not be coming. "The Alpha ..." was all he could say before her voice, much stronger than he had heard it in weeks came from behind him.

"Needs to prepare quickly. Thank you for the message general. We will be leaving in a few moments," she said.

The general nodded firmly and left. Gryp turned to her again to see that she had already managed to sit up and was putting her feet on the floor.

"What do you think you are doing?" he demanded. "You could barely open your eyes a minute ago. You will kill yourself!"

She looked up at him and her eyes flashed with anger. "Then I will have done the deed and not some talentless recruit with nothing but ambition," she argued.

He had seen her unleash such venom upon others but never him. The experience was not one he had ever wanted to have. He had no idea what to say. His mouth was agape.

Seeing his reaction, she paused and calmed. Unfortunately, with that calm, some of her weakness became evident again. "I am sorry, Gryp," she said. "But I will not be treated like I am incapable of caring for myself. I have had the longest reign in our history and will be one of the only Alphas to die a natural death. I am no weakling and I would like to keep it that way."

Her short lecture had sapped her strength despite her words and she had to take several minutes more of focused breathing before she could push herself to her feet. She lifted her chin and looked firmly into his eyes. To his gut-wrenching amazement, she looked like the Alpha of years ago, the Alpha that everyone had feared.

"We must hurry," she said. "Tryailla has never sent such a message before."

She walked determinedly passed him. He followed her to the awaiting vessel.

When the eyes of those they passed on the walls were upon her, she showed no ailment whatsoever. When no one was watching but for him, he saw her strength fading. If they made it to Tryailla to hear her message at all, he did not expect her to last much longer than that. He had the strong feeling that this would be the last time he stood upon Dominans with his friend.

The pregnant Tryaillan who had come to fetch them helped them settle into the vessel. Gryp had trouble clearing his mind. His grief refused to be silenced even if it needed to keep quiet for only a few short moments. When the vessel seemed delayed in leaving, he realized his mind must have been so chaotic that it was interfering with the Tryaillan controlling the process. He forced the discipline and skill of all his lifetimes to return so that he could use them to quell the swirling thoughts and emotions for the brief seconds needed. To his relief, a moment later, the Tryaillan was announcing they had arrived.

It was a rare moonless night upon the planet and if the glow of the palace itself did not light their way, they would easily have become lost and disoriented in the darkness.

He and the Alpha were led up the stone steps and into the Great Hall where Tryailla, her consort, and the Draigo awaited them. Their guide immediately left them alone in the hall.

Tryailla and her consort looked agitated and tired. The wrinkled and dust covered skirts of Tryailla's green gown indicated she had been dealing with much given her message. The Draigo looked more curious than worried. He nodded in greeting.

"Tryailla has been visited by two unexpected guests," Tryailla said. "Even more surprisingly, they are determined to convince us they are here for peace."

"Is it angels?" the Draigo asked. His upper body tilted forward slightly and his eyes widened as he made his question.

Tryailla shook her head. "No angels and no gods."

"Shinga has returned," the Alpha said clearly.

Gryp looked at her face, hoping there was some doubt in it. It was clear she was certain. He turned to Tryailla and saw that she was nodding in agreement. His heart fell through his feet but his years of being the fugitive came back to him and he went into action.

"They are here for peace?" he scoffed dramatically. "Since when has Shinga ever wanted peace? She's tricked you into bringing us here to kill us all."

Tryailla shook her head again. "No, we have her imprisoned for the time being. She let us do it but you can be sure she can do nothing to any of us at the moment. We have told her that you, Lapidus, will be the judge of her intentions."

Though this theoretically gave him great power in the situation, Gryp worried that the moment Shinga looked into his eyes, she would know he was not who he claimed. With faint hope, he said, "Then tell me her argument and I will judge it on its merits."

"She will tell you herself," Tryailla said before walking over to the large five pointed star in the middle of the floor and instructing that they all do the same.

Once upon it, the circle began to lower itself through a shaft that descended below the great hall. Above them, the shaft closed and they were in darkness for several moments. As they continued to descend, the Alpha's arm brushed Gryp's and he was able to catch her just in time to prevent her from falling. Her fingers tightened on his forearm which she was now using for support. In the dark, it was still possible the others had not noticed.

When the platform emerged into a large, dimly lit chamber, Gryp saw immediately both Shinga and Barjl sitting against the far wall. They stood and walked towards the lowering platform. As they did so, he lowered his eyes to the floor.

* * *

Minyera was not surprised to see that Shinga and Barjl appeared entirely uneasy with their new visitors. To their credit, they remained quiet and calm, though both had obviously picked out Lapidus in the group and were watching him warily. What Minyera could not understand was that Lapidus refused to make eye contact. She had always thought him to be one who would glare defiantly at his enemies. At the moment, he looked downright cowardly.

Perhaps the Alpha had noticed this as well, for she placed a firm hand upon his arm which flexed beneath her touch. After another moment, he lifted his chin and looked directly at Shinga. Could that have been fear in his eyes? Was Shinga really that terrifying? A day earlier, she would have thought so but after the stories and how easily Shinga and Barjl were cooperating, she found herself thinking the idea more and more absurd.

"What do you wish to tell me?" Lapidus asked. His voice was strong but sounded forced.

Shinga did not look away. Though she was the one at mortal disadvantage, she looked much more confident and assured than Lapidus. She refused to be intimidated.

"What can I say to you that will convince you of the truth?" she replied. "I told the truth then as much as I do now and all it has gotten me are lifetimes of torment and insane Wolf followers who would gleefully embrace evil acts. You love Ashyina's myth too much to ever believe me."

Lapidus' brow furrowed. "Then why demand an audience with us then?" he wondered.

Jutting her chin out in Minyera and Fagan's direction, she said, "They insisted. We told them there was no point. You will never believe I am innocent."

The Draigo scoffed. "Our histories are pretty clear about the atrocities you committed against your own kind," he said.

Shinga glared at him and replied. "Your histories are a lie." She pointed at Lapidus. "A lie he spent an entire lifetime trying to propagate because Ashyina asked it of him." Turning to her old foe, she said, "You never bothered to share with them my side of the story, did you, Lapidus? You never told them I had nothing to do with the massacre on Fa'ah."

The Draigo scoffed again. "All the rulers have known that since the first war ended but you cannot deny what you did to those on Earth and to Kiran," he said.

Shinga blinked back at his response. How would she know what he meant? She had never been told of the gods. With lack of information, the situation was escalating.

Minyera intervened. "Here is your chance to tell them what happened, Shinga. Please tell them exactly what you told us," she said.

As Minyera heard the story repeated, it resonated more genuinely with her. It felt more prominent and clear in her mind than any of the other histories about the Whispering War. With this retelling, her remaining doubts were cleansed and she was sure that Shinga was telling the truth, that she indeed had been the victim trying desperately to seek justice.

The Alpha's motions and expression did not change as she listened. Her face was as stone. Lapidus simply watched Shinga and Barjl as they gave their story, though he looked quite unimpressed.

Unfortunately, Londu's mouth compressed into a thin line and his jaw clenched more tightly as Shinga and Barjl told him of the past. When they were finished, he would not have needed to speak for all present to know his judgement.

"You have painted Ashyina as the villain," he said coldly. "She helped lead the people away from Earth. She helped them flee from you and even helped found Dominans. She did not come seeking you, looking to kill you as you insist. You sought her. You pursued her relentlessly. You said yourself that you tried to move on with your lives and forget the past. Yet you still sought to blame her and ultimately killed her in that life. Your words are empty and I cannot imagine what horrors you will inflict upon us if we let you back into our midst. Your pathetic plea to get away with what you have done is pointless. Let the Wolves have you."

Minyera had never heard the Draigo speak so coldly of anyone let alone to someone's face. He truly held nothing but hatred for the woman before him. Perhaps the histories, especially the part in which one of his own kind was the ultimate betrayer had scarred him too deeply.

"I am telling the truth!" Shinga insisted.

Londu scoffed, "I find that unlikely." Turning to Minyera, he said, "I have listened to her story. I assume that is the whole reason we were asked to come down here. We have heard it. You said Lapidus would be the judge but the council must vote and its will carried out. It is our way."

Minyera nodded slowly. He was right but she had not foreseen such a venomous reaction from him of all people; from the Alpha, perhaps, but not from him.

"But there is one more matter that needs to be addressed," she said, hoping to distract Londu from directing his hatred at Shinga. "At our last meeting, Lapidus insisted he be given the chance to find her and tell her the truth of the gods. No matter what we feel of Shinga's story, we must consider the peace of our kind to protect ourselves from the biggest threat."

"Gods? What are gods?" Barjl demanded, looking more worried than he had during Londu's outburst.

Minyera turned to Lapidus. "She stands before you, tell her the truth," she instructed.

Lapidus hesitated. Licking his lips nervously, he gave a brief glance to the Alpha. Perhaps he was weighing his words, but his pause was quickly becoming strange. Minyera was just about to press him further when he finally spoke.

"If Shinga is still so strongly holding to her hatred, it may not be wise to tell her," he explained.

Minyera found this a very uncharacteristic change of mind given what she had been told of his past. He had wanted to go to her in the middle of the heated war to convince her. Surely that was a much more dangerous time to attempt it. Given her own experience with Shinga, though limited, she could not see the woman joining with the gods.

"This is ridiculous," Minyera said. "This was the entire plan. She of all people must know why it is so important for the fighting to end. The only one who needs to know more than her is Ashyina, who has been missing for just as long."

The mention of Ashyina's name in such a context had now made Shinga's face mirror the worry and offense of Barjl's. Minyera had had enough.

Turning to Shinga and Barjl, she began to tell them the truth. Londu and Lapidus protested but she ignored them. "The massacre on Fa'ah was committed by powerful beings called gods and their armies," she explained. "The soldiers of their armies are angels. They are why the Thinkers have almost completely disappeared. They abduct them. Their goal is to destroy all Thinkers who have trespassed into this universe, which belongs to them."

Shinga and Barjl looked at each other and then at the other people in the room. After several moments of silence, Barjl began to laugh. The sound of it lacked all humour.

"You really think we would simply surrender on the baseless threat of a larger enemy?" he said.

"It isn't a lie," Minyera insisted. "The barrier on Tryailla hides us from them."

"And Dominans and Tatsu?" Barjl asked, looking at her with a raised brow and smirk.

"We don't know why they leave the Children alone, but those who openly reveal themselves as Thinkers on those planets have all been taken," she explained.

"And the thinking Cats? Why are there none of you left if you are so safe here?" he pressed.

"We don't know," she replied, lowering her head. "Some simply had not returned while others were taken when they insisted on aiding those on Tatsu and Dominans."

"You are lying," Shinga said. Her voice was quiet but firm. "I was amongst the first of my kind to be pulled here. There was nothing here. It is why our attempts to alter this place had created such perversion. We were not meant to be here. Nothing was ever meant to be here. We would have seen these gods. We would have known. I told you the truth and am letting you openly judge me yet again. You repay me by lying?"

There were tears forming in her eyes but Minyera could see that she was full of rage.

"You see, Lapidus was right," yelled the Draigo. "You should have listened to him Minyera. I put forward that we do as was always planned," announced the Draigo. "We hand the criminals over to the Wolves who may exact punishment as they see fit."

"We will not be taken anywhere by you," Barjl seethed.

Pulling himself up tall and looking down his long nose, Londu said, "You have no choice in this matter, you are the criminals."

"No!" Shinga pleaded.

Minyera was certain that this must have been all too much like the horrible council meeting that had started it all. Barjl must have sensed it too for he had reached down and taken Shinga's hand in his and squeezed it tightly.

The Draigo turned to the Alpha. "What is your will?" he asked.

She barely moved as she spoke and her voice was quiet. Minyera had never expected this woman of all people to be stunned by anything, even this, but it seemed every person had a limit. "I agree with the Draigo. Her story changes nothing. She should be brought back to Dominans."

Barjl, having his suspicions confirmed, turned to Fagan. "What of your promise, Cat?" he said bitterly. "There may be two of you but you have only one vote."

"What promise?" the Draigo insisted. "You are making promises to enemies without our consultation?"

This accusation made Fagan's jaw clench and his eyes narrow, though his voice came out calm and measured. "I made no promises on behalf of the council. I made a personal pledge that is my responsibility and mine alone."

The Draigo was not placated. "So you believe them then? Have you lost your mind completely? Have you forgotten the histories? For Thought's sake, she is the only Thinker who has ever truly killed another Thinker, your own ancestor no less!"

"Perhaps the histories are biased, Draigo," he said still equally calm. "We do not know everything and even the little we do could always be proven wrong. But Barjl is right. Tryailla and I have only one vote between us. It does not matter what we say."

"Then ready the vessel," the Draigo ordered to no one. "They must be transported before they can escape."

"Ah," Fagan said with a theatrical revelation. "See, no matter what Minyera and I agree to in the end, that is not possible."

The Draigo looked mutinous and Minyera wondered if all his years of being meek and kind had actually been spent suppressing a temper that had been broken out by the shocking events.

"You are going to defy the council?" he demanded. "That would mean war we have not seen since _she_ introduced murder to our kind."

"Draigo, please calm yourself and let me explain," Fagan replied. Though his tone indicated he wished to be respectful, his words simply came out patronizing; an aspect the Draigo seemed to have felt as well, for his mouth returned to the thin line.

Fagan continued, "It took our remaining four mages as well as both Tryailla and I to create a barrier to contain them enough just to bring them here. This room is the epicentre of our barrier and even it is only just enough to contain these two from using their thought to kill us all. If you take them now, before we have a chance to create a method of transport that can keep them contained, they will escape. Do you want to be the one to take responsibility for such a mistake?" he asked.

His explanation seemed to have irritated the Draigo more than angered him, as the logic was sound even from his point of view. Begrudgingly, he replied, "Fine then. Organize your plans with the Alpha. I am sick of dealing with this matter anyway."

Minyera saw an opening, for Londu really was becoming taxing upon her patience. She was not accustomed to dealing with this side of him. "If you would like to return to Tatsu, you are welcome to leave. There is nothing more we had wished to discuss with you," she said sweetly in stark contrast to the condescension Fagan had directed at him. She gestured to the platform and began to walk him to it.

"No need, Tryailla," he said. "I can find my way back."

She nodded in acceptance of his wishes and watched as he stepped upon the circle. With her mind, she sent it gliding upward through the shaft, resisting the urge to give it a great jolt. When it had reached the top, she waited another moment before guiding it back down again. With this task completed, she returned to the others.

Shinga was now standing still as stone. Her eyes were red and wet. Barjl still held her hand tightly and was now clenching and un-clenching his free hand repeatedly. Minyera hoped they had understood Fagan's intent and did not believe they had been betrayed again.

"It may take several months to create a strong enough envoy," Minyera announced to Lapidus and the Alpha. "We were barely able to make it back here as it was. I will need to find a fifth mage at the very least and that could take some time."

"We can take them now," Lapidus said. The shock of their initial meeting had seemed to have worn off and he was now as strong as ever.

Fagan began to protest. "I really don't think ..."

"Yes, we will take them now," Lapidus insisted. "I am strong enough to act as the fifth mage for you. We can take them now."

Fagan and Minyera looked at each other. She could feel that Fagan had not considered this possibility. His energy now felt like a floundering fish, though his face showed none of it.

Minyera grasped at the only reasoning she could. "But we need the mages upon Tryailla to keep us safe. You know that. They will not be able to stay on Dominans to guard her. As much as I trust and respect you, Lapidus, you alone are not enough against both Shinga and Barjl."

Lapidus smirked. "You are trying to find a way to help them because you believe the stories they have told you," he said. "I must insist that you call the mages here so that we can leave at once with the prisoners."

Dumbstruck, Minyera nodded slowly and called to the mages with her mind. She had to push the thought several times with her will for her mind was sluggish and unresponsive to the command she did not want to give. Then, her sinking heart felt a tickle of familiar energy. Warm fingers wrapped around hers. Lifting her chin, she saw Fagan looking at her with a faint, reassuring smile. She let his emotions penetrate her. If they could just get outside the barrier, right before the vessel, the mages could release the energy and Shinga and Barjl could teleport to safety.

Unfortunately, Shinga and Barjl were not privy to the plan and had felt they had been entirely betrayed.

"You promised us, Fagan!" Shinga yelled. "You promised. We trusted you!"

Barjl glared murderously at him with intent so strong that Minyera knew he would be looking for the slightest opportunity. For the time being, that would work to their advantage as they too would likely see the chance to escape. Minyera just hoped they would not use it to martyr themselves for petty revenge.

When the mages arrived, Minyera instructed them to aid Lapidus in binding Shinga and Barjl during transport. Nira looked particularly confused by the request but she did as instructed. The murderous and forlorn energy of the group cast a tense silence over them as they ascended to the Great Hall.

The bright light of the hall burned at Minyera's eyes and she blinked rapidly in her attempts to adjust to it. Lapidus took the Alpha's hand and helped her as she crossed the floor. Minyera had never known her to accept such gestures from anyone.

As she stepped off the circle and towards the large open doors to the outside, Shinga broke the silence.

"I thought you believed us," Shinga said quietly. "I thought you knew they had lied about me."

Already walking towards the large doorways, Lapidus turned his head to look at her with narrowed eyes. "You are the liar, Shinga," he said. "You are the one who wouldn't listen to reason. You are the one who couldn't accept our situation. You are the one who refused to adapt. We may not have liked you then but we would never have done to you what you did to us."

Shinga glared at the back of his head and for a moment appeared that she was going to lunge at him, but Barjl placed his hand upon her sternum and held her back. Despite her near outburst, he was not watching her. He was watching Lapidus.

"Lapidus, will you answer a question?" Barjl asked.

Lapidus continued to lead the Alpha through the hall and was nearly at the door as he called back, "Not that I have to answer to you, but you make ask anything you want."

"The night before the council meeting that changed everything, the one in which the council learned teleportation in these forms is possible, you asked me something. What was it?" he asked.

For a moment, Lapidus' pace slowed almost to a stop. Finally, he answered, "I do not recall." He started walking again but Minyera noticed his pace was much quicker, so much so that the Alpha was having difficulty keeping up. As she looked at his hand clutched to the old woman's, she was shocked to see a patch of grey fur appearing upon it. Lapidus did not slow. Did he not notice? The woman needed help.

Barjl was not satisfied with the answer and as he replied, he quickened his pace also. The mages, Minyera, and Fagan began to look at each other, wondering what was going on.

"It was something that seemed to weigh heavily upon your mind at the time," Barjl said. "I am quite sure it was the type of question you would not have forgotten."

"Perhaps you remember every small detail, Barjl, but I do not," he replied bitterly. Lapidus was through the doors now and nearing the Grand Arch, the rest of them were just coming over the threshold.

To Minyera's surprise, Barjl smiled. "That is quite a convenient excuse," he said. "It is entirely possible and believable. Indeed, you may simply have forgotten. But, I have another theory. You are not Lapidus at all."

Lapidus laughed at the absurd suggestion, if it was indeed absurd. The seed of doubts about their official histories had been putting out roots. This new suggestion churned in Minyera's mind. Could they have been tricked? They were sure the question they had asked could have been known by no one else, but what a foolish assumption that seemed now, with the possibility that they were catastrophically wrong. Fagan's energy felt as confused and worried as hers. She looked up at him but he was now watching Lapidus as intently as Shinga and Barjl were. The mages warily watched the situation develop.

"This is insane," Iogrevard said, turning to face them and still laughing. "How would I know what I do if I were not Lapidus?" he asked. "Why would I lie?"

"I have a suspicion, though I cannot prove it," Barjl admitted. "But I do know that whoever you are, it is not Lapidus. Lapidus never hated Shinga. He never even disliked her until Ashyina started her lies. He cared for her like a little sister. He and I may be enemies now, but we were brothers long before and for much longer than this insanity has been happening. He felt sorry for her but he never hated her before the lies and he would never say that he did."

All but Minyera were now watching Iogrevard. She was watching the Alpha, who appeared unsurprised in the slightest and even a bit saddened by this revelation. Had she been in on it? Had she known? Is that how he knew the answer and tricked them all?

Minyera's voice cut through the tension that had jellified the air around them. "How did you overcome the mark, Grindella? Why did you lie to us?" Though the question spilled from her, unwilling to be restrained, it was much harder to ask than she had anticipated. Her breath did not seem enough to carry it and her lungs were fully depleted by the end of it.

The Alpha looked at her with sincerest regret. "There is more going on here than you know," she replied. "What I did was for the good of all of us and I can't have it all come down on us now."

She gave a great tug upon Iogrevard's arm. The two of them fell back through the Grand Arch and out of the barrier, but they also rolled backwards down the large steps. Minyera gasped and ran to the top of the stairs in time to see the frail, aged body of the Alpha hitting the steps hard as she tumbled down towards the grass. Iogrevard appeared to fare better but he too was taking a beating. Then Fagan, Barjl and the mages began to run down after them. Shinga took only a second longer. When the shock had worn off, Minyera followed behind.

As fast as she could without falling herself, she ran down the stairs. As they neared the bottom, Iogrevard had already recovered and was on his knees, but the Alpha had been hurt far too badly. Her almost entirely reverted form lay limply upon the grass though the expansion of her chest indicated she still breathed. Her face was slowly changing to that of a wolf. Despite the situation, Iogrevard reached out and lifted her into his arms and was now entirely focused upon her. Tears soaked his cheeks.

"Not yet," he said quietly.

"Would... you ever... be ready?" the Alpha whispered. Before she had entirely reverted and her body went limp, she said to him, "Find ... the stones."

"You!" Barjl yelled and lunged at Iogrevard.

Slowly, Iogrevard lifted his chin and Minyera could see unhindered the depth of his sadness. He clutched the Alpha more tightly. Before Barjl could reach him, he had teleported.

"Who is he?" Fagan demanded. "Barjl, tell me who he is. Who are we dealing with?"

Barjl glared at him, "I am not trusting you again. You lied to us even after we told you the truth. You caved to them without a fight. You would support us until it meant actually fighting for us."

"No," Minyera insisted. "We were going to help you escape, I swear to you we were. And the gods are real. We weren't lying!"

"It seems the descendants of those who followed Ashyina know only her ways," Shinga said bitterly. "And now because of you and your lies, Gryp has escaped again."

"Gryp?" Minyera repeated, stunned. "Iogrevard is Gryp?"

Shinga nodded as a breeze cut through the calm night air and ruffled her hair, a lock falling across her face. Strangely, the scent of the air was like water but there was none nearby.

"No," Barjl said. "Gryp has not escaped. We know the race he is this time and we know he is alive. We can find him again and get the stones back."

With these words, he placed a firm hand upon Shinga's shoulder and they too were gone.

# Chapter 13

Gryp's knees felt frozen to the cold stones. He had collapsed in front of the gate to the compound. Another blizzard had just hit but he ignored the howling winds and piercing snow hitting his cheeks. He kept the Alpha's furred form clutched to his body as he wept anew upon it.

She had been right. He would never have been ready for this. He never again wanted to feel like his heart was being sucked forcefully into his stomach only to be eaten by the acid. His whole body tingled painfully as each nerve felt exactly what his heart endured.

There were shouts. They were getting louder. The wind fought back, roaring painfully into his ears, but the shouting still came.

He felt the cold tip of a spear against his neck as the soldier wielding it said, "Identify yourself."

When he looked up, the soldier dropped his weapon in his shock. His eyes flicked between Gryp's face and the Alpha's body. Gryp saw the boy's lips move and was sure he had said, "The Alpha," but he must have whispered it, for the wind had carried the sound completely away.

He ran back into the compound and within moments, emerged with several more soldiers and Folg. Gryp had not moved. He felt no will to move. His tears had frozen to his skin and the pain of the cold upon his shins and knees was comforting. It distracted from the loss.

"What happened?" Folg's voice boomed over the wind.

When Gryp did not answer, the man gestured to two of the soldiers with him. They walked to either side of Gryp and helped lift him to his feet as he still clutched the Alpha's body. They walked him into the compound.

The heat from the enormous fire within the hall was almost unbearable after the welcoming cold. Gryp found it difficult to breathe.

"Set her down, Io," Folg said gently. "There is nothing that can be done for her now. Set her down."

Gryp looked at the man and blinked, having trouble absorbing the information of his face. Slowly he complied and set the Alpha's body down upon the raised platform where she had sat during the testing of recruits.

"What happened?" Folg asked again.

For several moments, Gryp did not answer. What could he say? His mind swirled with the thoughts of stones, angels, gods, and even the new threat to his own mortality. Shinga and Barjl would not let him escape now that they had found him again. For a brief moment, he thought that killing himself and being reborn would be the easiest solution but then he thought of all the work and time he had spent to get to this position so that he could find the stones. Yet, he had not found even an inkling to the location of the next one despite those efforts. He thought of Vanagandr and the strange woman who had found him. They were too short on time and it had taken too much to get this far. He needed a distraction. He needed others to be keeping Shinga and Barjl busy. They were still with Tryailla. It was likely she knew the truth now too. He needed to ensure that he was not the hunted. He came up with the only answer that could bring him what he needed.

"Shinga is among the Tryaillans," he said and without waiting for the general to absorb this news, continued, "They have allied themselves with her and killed the Alpha. I barely escaped myself."

The General looked him over. Seeing the bruises and cuts that Gryp had sustained falling down the stone steps, the man was quite convinced of his telling even though still shocked.

"What do we do?" he said. "We cannot fight the Tryaillans. They have too much magic."

"Then we must learn how to overcome their magic," he said. "Find the brightest of the Wolves. Assemble them into a team. We need technology."

"May I make a suggestion, Alpha?" Folg asked.

For a moment Gryp was confused by the title until he realized that that indeed was what he was now. "Yes," he replied.

"The Dragons have immense technology. They will join with us though it will take time to notify them without Tryaillan vessels."

Gryp nodded but added, "I have a way that I can use to contact the Draigo directly. I will notify him of the situation immediately. You spread the word of what has happened. All Wolves must know who our real enemies are."

Folg nodded and walked briskly from the hall towards the barracks.

When no one was looking, Gryp teleported himself to Tatsu where he intended to set his full plan into motion.

* * *

Shinga fell to her knees and cried. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself the luxury in her full-knowing form. When the council had ruled against her, she had focused her energy upon getting better and getting revenge, but the similarity of the events to what had happened back then were too much. She should have known it was impossible. She should have known that no matter the generation, no matter how much time had passed, even those who claimed to want to help did not believe her.

Now her body shuddered with the release of all the emotions she had supressed. They would rip her apart. The tears and the light of the sun which sat lower in the sky than usual above their small hideaway made her eyes close tightly from the pain. She wrapped her arms across her stomach and rocked her body to focus her mind on some sensation other than her grief.

"I'm sorry," Barjl whispered at her back.

She continued to wail uncontrollably though the physical pain of it lost its sharpness.

"The fact that they would so easily trust anyone claiming to be Lapidus shows how strongly they believe the old stories," he said. The edges of his tone were jagged.

"Ashyina's version of events has most definitely become canon," he added.

Her body shivered. The energy expended in her emotional release had sapped it even of the ability to warm itself.

Barjl leaned over and placed his hands upon her arms so that he could pull her onto her feet. He helped her into the cave where their fire had long since died. He helped her sit next to the carbonized remains before placing more logs upon the spot and lighting it with his mind. Announcing he was going to hunt for a rabbit, he left her alone with her thoughts.

For several minutes, her mind twisted and crawled around the events of the last day and a half and she wallowed in it. As she remembered Gryp's new face, as she tried to etch every detail of it into her mind so that she would know who's throat to rip out, she realized the events were not nearly as catastrophic as they had first seemed. By the time Barjl had returned with the promised rabbit to roast, she had worked out the details of her plan.

"We are going after Gryp," she announced as Barjl put the skinned animal upon a spit.

"Is that wise?" he asked. "I mean, he has quite an advantage over us."

She was undeterred. "He will continue to have the advantage until we get my fang back. We now know where he is hiding and his current appearance. I doubt he will run given that he has positioned himself to be the new Alpha."

"What if he doesn't have the fang?" Barjl asked. "It has been a very long time and he wasn't carrying it with him upon Tryailla," he reasoned.

"Then I will enjoy torturing the information out of him," she said as she jutted her chin out, daring Barjl to challenge her now.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he said, "Fine, but it will be difficult to get to him if he has all of the Wolf army between us and him."

He was right. She refused to fail this time. She could not act immediately no matter how much she wanted it. The evening's events were still too fresh. Even she realized she would act irrationally. She comforted herself with the thought that waiting could also give her an advantage. If enough time passed, Gryp might think she had fled and was not seeking him. It would not be that night, but soon she would destroy Gryp's thought completely.

* * *

Yuje's first sensation upon waking was a piercing headache worse than he had ever felt. Through his pain-blurred vision he saw someone above him. Blinking several times, he tried to clear his sight. The pain was strong enough that it was still a full minute before he could see again and by that time the person had turned away.

He was lying upon a plank. The strong warmth of a fire being slightly to close to his left seemed familiar. The horrid smell of some herb burning over that fire was even more familiar, even if unwelcomingly so.

"I have no idea how you've done it," a raspy woman's voice said. "You had a fit so strong you were almost in a coma and yet you didn't revert."

The voice was familiar but he had trouble remembering. Mentally, he grasped at the familiarity of it and churned it over in his mind, hoping to feel every aspect of it. Why was it familiar? With great frustration, it finally came to him, though faintly.

"Das?" he said.

"Yes, my idiot boy," she replied. "Glad to see the fit hasn't entirely destroyed your brain. The young recruit said you needed to see me, though he insists you were not alone and not having a fit when he left. I think he was just trying to get out of trouble."

"I was with a recruit?" he asked, which was followed by an involuntary grunt as he tried to sit up. "Why? The army kicked me out months ago."

When his question was met with silence, he looked up to see Das staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You have been living in the compound for months and under strict watch," she said. "I haven't seen you since your last fit in the square when the Tryaillans left.

"The Tryaillans were here?" he asked again and could not help feeling very stupid. Das' expression did not help his confidence much. She was glaring appraisingly down her nose at him.

"That really must have been a horrible fit," she said. "You are telling me that you remember nothing of nearly six full months of your life?"

He shook his head.

There was a knock at the door. Reluctantly, Das answered it. Yuje looked around her to see that it was one of the soldiers.

"General Folg is having us inform everyone to be on their guard," he said seriously. "Shinga has returned to life and the Tryaillans have allied with her."

"The Tryaillans?" Das said. "They would never do such a thing."

"They killed the Alpha and tried to take down Iogrevard too but he escaped," the soldier replied. "He is the new Alpha. He may call upon any of us in the coming days to serve the Wolves. Be prepared."

Das nodded but it lacked conviction. It looked more like a wobble.

The soldier nodded firmly back and left.

She closed the door, turned around slowly, and seemed trapped in her own thoughts. "Who ever thought such a day would actually come," she said. "After all this time ..."

"What do we do?" Yuje asked, feeling entirely helpless with the new information.

His question seemed to have snapped her out of her daze.

"You will drink the herbs I have brewed for you," she said angrily. She stomped over to a cauldron suspended over the fire, grabbed a stone bowl, and ladled a muddy looking liquid into it. She stomped back over to him, nearly spilling the putrid contents onto the floor in the process, and handed it to him. "Drink it and without complaining this time," she barked.

He wanted to shake his head in disgust at the concoction and at how incorrigible she was but he did not dare. She had hit him far too often even when he did not deserve it and she hit hard enough that it would hurt even a general.

He tried his best not to smell the sludge but he failed miserably as the distinct smell of rotting leaves penetrated all the way into the far reaches of his sinuses. He put the bowl to his lips and tipped it fast to throw the contents to the back of his throat. Most of it bypassed his tongue entirely but the tiniest amount hit his taste buds. It was enough to make him gag. He covered his mouth as he tried to forcibly re-swallow the contents.

"Will that make the fits go away?" he asked, once he was sure it would remain in his stomach.

"Ha!" she replied. "Not likely. I just wanted to see your face when you drank it."

# Chapter 14

Almost a month had passed since the Alpha had died and Gryp still remembered it vividly.

Though part of him had wanted to summon Vanagandr immediately to work out a plan, an inexperienced part of him was too raw from the loss of the Alpha. Though his reflex to protect himself snarled for the fight, his loss would not be silenced. He needed to mourn.

The body of a wolf was rarely honoured, even for an Alpha. No ceremony was given to the defeated. It was alone that he had carried her body up the glacier. The inside of his nose had frozen quickly. It still twinged with pain at the memory. His uniform had been tugged and pushed against his skin by the wind. As he remembered it, he ran a finger over the stitching where he had fixed the rips it had caused.

He had climbed until he found a plateau that overlooked the compound and the Quarters. There he had knelt with her in his lap. He had stroked her rough fur, watched how each hair moved as he ran his fingers through it.

She had been the only one he had ever trusted and the only one to ever trust him. He knew she would be the last and his existence in the future would be worse than it had ever been in the past.

He told her of his love and stayed with her until the sun had nearly set. His fingers had turned black from the frost bite. He had healed them with his mind before climbing back down to the compound.

When Gryp had returned to his chambers, he was angered to find that Yuje was not there. When he tracked down the soldier responsible for looking after him, he was further angered and terrified to hear of the previous evening's events.

His first thought had been that a fit on that scale meant that Lapidus had fully remembered his true self. It would have been far too much of a risk to have to deal with in the middle of a war. He had counted on being able to use the foreignness of the Tryaillans to his advantage. Unlike the people, Lapidus would never have believed such a story and would no doubt have wanted to investigate. If he had made his way to Tryailla, Gryp's entire plan might have been lost.

It was with great relief, that he had found Yuje at Das' clinic, completely and entirely unknowing of his true identity. It was a stroke of luck that Gryp had refused to waste.

It would have been easy to turn Yuje back onto the street now but far too risky. Ensuring no one else had seen, he returned Yuje to his chambers where he hoped to keep his presence quiet. After several days, he began to see that keeping Yuje caged so thoroughly might not be necessary.

Although the people's fears about him appeared to have been confirmed, they were now distracted by the impending war. Some of this shift in focus had also been due to the lack of return from Tryailla of a Wolf child named Poria. Gryp knew Shinga had been Poria but he felt no need to share this information when the people were rallying so passionately to his cause. Her mother was openly preaching to the soldiers that the Tryaillans had lied to her about her daughter. She was sure the girl had been sacrificed in a ritual meant to bring back Shinga who she saw as a god of death and destruction.

With the Tryaillans to hate, Yuje's culpability seemed far less. Gryp would be able to keep him around with a good enough excuse.

He began to give Yuje small tasks. First it would be delivering small messages to unimportant people, and then tidying Gryp's chambers after meals. Gryp did not care about such trivial things but he needed to be sure that Yuje would perform the tasks without complaint and with complete loyalty. He continued with this test for several weeks.

When he was sure that Yuje would not be a liability, he invented a new position for him. He could not go so far as to reinstate him in the army. There could be no cracks in the solidarity of his men and none would feel solidarity with the insane Yuje no matter who else they had chosen to blame. For this reason, he publically made Yuje his servant, but privately, his assistant in some new experiments of his own.

As he had stood beneath the Grand Arch upon Tryailla, right before the Alpha had pulled him down; he had heard Minyera ask how the Alpha had overcome the mark. It was a question he had had before but had paid little attention. Now, he wanted to understand the reasons more fully and possibly use them to his advantage. The only one with whom he could seek counsel now was Vanagandr. He just hoped the wolf would be willing to tell him about the true properties of angel blood.

Vanagandr responded immediately to his summons in the hidden chamber and though he was eager to demand much from his reluctant guardian, he took the time to apprise him of the situation now developing between Dominans and Tryailla. When he began to ask about the mark, the angel silenced him.

"You fled from Shinga again?" he barked.

Gryp was quite affronted by the reaction. "They were going to kill me," he said.

"How many times do I have to remind you that to find more stones you will need Shinga?" Vanagandr demanded, his nostrils flaring.

"What was I supposed to do? They wouldn't have believed anything I said and I didn't exactly want to confirm for them that Tryailla had told the truth about the gods. Aren't you the one who keeps threatening that Shinga cannot know?" he said, his voice rising with his frustration.

Vanagandr seemed no less exasperated at Gryp's perceived stupidity. "Upon Tryailla, it is entirely different. Her knowledge must be kept hidden from the gods. Tryailla is hidden from the gods. You could have told her everything!"

"Tryailla tried and Shinga did not believe her," Gryp vented. "How would I make any difference? Besides, you were always relieved that I did not say anything to Ashyina. Why would Shinga be any different?"

"In her current state, Ashyina cannot be trusted," Vanagandr explained. "I wish it were not so but the gods have seen to that and your stupidity has seen to it that yet another opportunity to bring this all to an end has been squandered."

Gryp's face burned red and he yelled back at the wolf, "I have done everything you have asked of me with almost no information. I am hated by my own kind, hunted like some disgusting traitor, and I have gained nothing in return. I lost the only person who ever cared about me and you are telling me that my actions, based on the limited information you have given me, have destroyed our chances again. I am Alpha of an entire race! I have soldiers at my command. I am one of the few remaining Thinkers, and I even have an angel as my secret counsel and you are telling me it all means nothing? That I have failed? Maybe you need to let someone help you, and I mean _really_ help you for once. Maybe Minne was right."

At the mention of Minne's name, Vanagandr leapt at him. Gryp was knocked hard upon the stones, his head bouncing painfully off them. For a moment, his vision sparkled with pinholes of blindness but he could still take in the growling beast holding him down.

"Do not speak of that harlot," he growled. "You know nothing about us, Thinker. Do not pretend that you do. I am in great danger because of her."

"I thought the gods couldn't find you here," Gryp replied, his anger having been scattered by the onrush of confusion.

His change in attitude affected Vanagandr as well, causing him to sit back and allow Gryp to climb to his feet.

Vanagandr circled the room and as he did so, a white fire erupted from the stones in his wake. The fire moved and danced across the floor, forming designs of all kinds. Some looked like constellations that Gryp recognized and remembered from his days before flesh; more importantly from his first moments within the universe. Others looked similar to the writings he himself had invented for his book. Amongst the constellations were five planets; the planets of the five races. They surrounded him as he walked to the centre of the room.

When the fires had finished etching the designs into the floor and died away, Vanagandr sat upon the far side of the room.

"You recognize these planets?" he asked.

Gryp nodded.

"These were and are the five most important places in this universe," he said. "Do you know why?"

Though Gryp knew the significance of them for the Thinkers, he had no idea why angels or gods would care about them beyond that and shook his head.

"They are like the five pillars, the angels," he replied. "Do you understand now?"

As Gryp comprehended what he was being told. He whispered, "Where do they lead?"

"At the moment," Vanagandr said, "they are useless to any on this side. They are the planets that were used to bring the Thinkers here. How did you think the portal was opened? It was no accident or anomaly like the gods think. We brought you here."

"Who is 'we'?"

"The gods who remembered," he explained. "I am not an angel Gryp; at least, I did not used to be. There were many more gods than there are now. There were no angels, only gods. It was not long after the angels emerged that the wars began. My true masters, the gods I followed and admired, lost to the greedy and selfish and were destroyed. Those of us who had supported them were punished. Any who refused to submit were destroyed as well. The rest of us were cast down with the angels and imprisoned in servitude for the gods we had fought. Many did not survive long; many more forgot who they truly were, believing themselves always to have been angels. A handful of us remembered and have been working ever since to break free from our prisons. In our mock battles, we pretended to act as our new masters would have wanted but our deeds were carefully orchestrated without their knowledge. We brought you here, the only race that could hope to save us from them. Did you think your people were drawn to these planets by chance? Did you think you simply preferred them over all others? There are countless planets, many nicer and more hospitable, but the energies of our deeds brought you here and it is the energies of the true gods that dances in the mark upon you now."

Gryp looked down at his stomach. His uniform felt too constrictive. It was heavy and itchy and he needed it off of him. He pulled at it roughly to remove it. After throwing the fabric to the floor, he ran his fingers over the purple colours that danced in the spiral. It appeared finite but spun infinitely. He looked up at this strange wolf before him; a god, he claimed.

"Tryailla was a god?" Gryp asked, his voice barely audible even to himself.

Vanagandr nodded. "One of the ones who had forgotten," he added. "It is how she was strong enough to be a general. Lilith did not hesitate in using that power for herself, especially when she was confident Tryailla had buried the memories as deep as she had."

"Is that why the blood of the twins is so strong?" Gryp asked.

To his surprise, Vanagandr shook his head. "Tryailla's energy was justice and order. It demands obedience and so it has simply guided the true power into something potent enough the gods would fear."

"True power?"

"The blood of a Thinker," Vanagandr explained. "Your kind is far more powerful than you have ever been willing to accept. Even telling you this is not likely to release it. You must learn how to control and wield it. For some reason, your current vessels have kept it subdued. If the blood of my kind were truly the ultimate power, why would we have bothered to bring you here? Why would the gods be so fearful of your kind as to hide? They have never hidden from any challenge until the Thinkers arrived."

"Is that why the mark does not work on me?" Gryp asked. "I have violated the terms of it many times and it has yet to punish me."

"Its exact workings are intricate but are you sure you have violated the terms?" Vanagandr asked. "The mark demands obedience from the wearer, whether you know it or not, you are performing its will, or you would not be breathing or thinking as you are now."

The onslaught of information churned in Gryp's mind. He tried to come to coherent conclusions but found it all too muddled. Everything simply turned into one ugly lump that his mind could not digest. He would need some time to think but he was sure that now he was finally getting somewhere.

* * *

Minyera sat beneath the Grande Arch, staring at where the Alpha had taken her last breath. The afternoon sun warmed the stone around her. Despite shining equally brightly on her pale green dress, she was chilled. She could smell rain upon the air and was quite sure there would be a storm before nightfall, there was always a storm when Tryailla's people had taken such blows.

It had not taken Gryp long to mobilize against them. The day after his outing, the envoys from Tatsu had arrived telling of how the Draigo had expelled them, threatening that he was feeling generous in allowing them to keep their lives.

She was thankful that at least it had been one of the periods when they had had no envoys permanently placed upon Dominans. Very few Tryaillans volunteered for such positions due to the harsh climate.

The events of that day several weeks before had made quite clear what had happened. Despite the larger threats to their kind, they would no longer be united. Perhaps it was that any threat from the angels and gods had not manifested in so long that even those knowing the truth of their existence began to question, began to act as though they were only myth.

The Alpha and Draigo had said their people had become more superstitious, even elevating Shinga's memory to that of a god. To such people, their biggest fear was being realized. Gryp had informed them all that she had returned and, as the expelled envoy informed her, that Tryailla had betrayed its people and chosen to join her.

It was a bitter fact that the rulers of all three races had willingly used Shinga as the official story explaining the abductions and threats, all so they would not have to risk too many knowing the truth. They had comforted themselves with the idea that Shinga truly was a monster. What did it matter who they blamed if both parties were equally guilty? Shinga was not guilty but she would be the one to continue living as a fugitive all because they had so thoroughly convinced the people of a false history.

In war, Tryailla did not fear the Dragons or Wolves. Their stubbornness and refusal to accept anything of Tryailla except the absolute minimum of aid had ensured that. Tryailla held the advantage. The transport ships the Dragons had were slow and few in number. It would take years for them to develop an offensive fleet and she had no intention of being the aggressor no matter what the people of those races believed.

However, she was not entirely without worry. Her mind shifted through the events of that fateful night. She thought of what it meant to have Barjl and Shinga believe them to be enemies. She thought of what the Alpha said to Gryp about finding stones. What were they and why did he need them?

Then her mind landed upon the most pressing matter before her. There was still the issue of the missing mage. Reaching out with her thoughts, she caressed the barrier, feeling for any imperfections. Though it felt consistent, she worried that it was not strong enough and for a moment, panicked as she considered that it might have even weakened. Now probing aggressively at the energy, she became convinced she had imagined it. It was strong enough. They had done the first Great Rite of her reign only a year and a half before. A barrier took decades to fade even without interventions. It was silly to think that it would weaken after such a short time despite what had happened.

The storm felt closer now. Though she still could not see the clouds, she felt safer retreating indoors. She found Fagan already kneeling at one of the long tables and eating a meal of flat bread and ground nuts. She sought him out for comfort.

That night, she awoke abruptly and against her will. Despite her stress, her sleep had been quite serene. The sensation that had awoken her brushed against her skin and made it tingle uncomfortably. As she attempted to clear her focus, she noticed the rain hitting the panes of glass of her room. Sitting up, she looked out the windows to see lightening illuminating clouds that reached out over the distant mountains behind the palace. Most were too far away to be heard and others contributed only the smallest rumble to the steady percussion of the rain.

It was not the worst storm they had had. There was a worse one right before her mother had died. In comparison, this downpour felt almost nourishing. It was not the weather that had woken her.

The unwanted, probing energy brushed against her again, sending an uncomfortable convulsion down her spine. Despite her reflex to hide from it, she forced herself to focus upon it. She needed to know its intent and its source.

It felt familiar but wrong and it reached out like her mind did when she was searching for something. As she wrapped her thoughts around it, but not too tightly, she tried to isolate what made it familiar. Mulling it over in her mind, she considered all the energies she had encountered before. The closer she came to narrowing it down, the more she did not want to know. She became more and more panicked, looking over already discarded possibilities, desperately grasping onto hope.

She could not deny it. She jumped out of bed and ran to her wardrobe, grabbing the first thing she touched - a long dress - and pulled it over her head, as she ran for the door. She probed at the barrier again. It felt not much different from earlier that day but now she knew that her initial assessment had been misguided and desperate. The barrier _was_ weaker.

As she pulled open her chamber doors, she heard Fagan stumble out of the bed and knew he was following. In her worry, she had forgotten about waking him, but it was good they were so in tune. He would follow her and she needed that.

She did not wait for him as she raced toward the Great Hall. She needed the remaining mages together. They needed to find the fifth. There was no other way to fix the barrier that had weakened so significantly. They would have to brave the storm to search again for one who could help protect them from that searching gaze; the gaze of an angel.

* * *

Barjl's rumbling stomach echoed in the small cave but he did not move. They had been arguing about going after Gryp. Barjl was still insisting they needed more time to improve their skills. Shinga felt the time had come to go to Dominans immediately and pry the fang from the traitor's hands. Neither wanted to relent. They sat staring at the fire as they quietly wallowed in self-pity at the fact the other would not listen to reason. Given the nature of their argument, when Shinga finally did break the silence, her topic seemed to catch Barjl off guard.

"Do you think they were telling the truth about the gods?" she asked.

Bemused, Barjl stumbled over a response before finally saying, "You said yourself that there was nothing when we first came here. In our unlimited forms, we could see everything and there was nothing."

She shrugged, "You're right but if they are more powerful than we are, maybe they can hide from us."

"I can't believe you are even considering this," he replied.

She did not respond but she was not convinced. She was not sure if there were any beings but she did wonder if it was possible. If it were possible to be more powerful than even a Thinker, she wanted to know how. Only then could she find real justice and set things right. The possibility of being capable of more was a thought that had latched on in the night and was now so firmly connected to her psyche that she knew it would never be removed.

# Chapter 15

Minyera stormed through the Great Hall, leaving a trail of puddles behind her. She wanted to dry off, rest, and forget their complete failure.

Fagan followed but his exhaustion had gotten the better of him. His walk was slow and weak despite his own frustrations. The mages separated and retreated to their own halls.

As she was just leaving the hall, she noticed that several people were seated at the low tables and eating. With the storm, which had been relentless for three days, it was difficult to track the time properly. Given how they had already spent many hours that day searching, she guessed it must have been the evening meal.

That made it just a few days shy of four months that they had been searching; with little rest, food, or refreshment. All the reckless effort had yielded nothing.

Minyera grunted to herself as she marched her way to her room. She needed to retreat to prevent the people from witnessing her rage. Though she had still been unable to grasp the same even-tempered manner of her mother, she had come very close in her public image. That had been difficult enough to achieve before their current crisis.

She had intended to strip off her wet clothes and regain some sense of what it was to be dry and warm but when she entered her chambers and was completely alone, having left Fagan long behind, her sense of propriety no longer held. She collapsed to her knees and sobbed. She doubled over, seeking refuge in her own body. The cold and sopping fabric that covered her legs returned no comfort but she could do nothing more than accept it as she let her stress pour from her.

She had wanted to keep looking, but the mages were too weary. Fagan was weary and she had to admit, that even though she scolded him for the accusation at the time, she too was weary. The choice to return had been made for them when she felt a crack in the barrier. The smallest of sections had lowered in energy for only a moment but it could have been long enough. They had done their best to patch it but she knew that without the fifth, the vibration would not hold. They were forced to return so that they could keep a closer eye upon it.

Perhaps it was the warmth of the room, but she began to feel less beaten. Her body convulsed less violently with each sob. Then she felt a tickle on her insides just behind her navel. She stopped crying. It tickled again and she laughed. She felt loved.

Fagan was getting closer; he must have been trying to soothe her. She reached back to him to show her thanks but he was tired and withdrawn, as disappointed as she but far too exhausted to cry. At best, she felt his resignation. He could not have tickled her so much.

The thought worried her. She felt the tickle again and tried to touch it with her mind. It was like laughter and her mental caress brought it forth even more. She pulled on it with the slightest thought, just to find its direction. Following it like a trail, she left the chamber and passed a bewildered Fagan in the hallway.

"What is going on?" he asked, but she was trying to concentrate on the giggle of energy that was pulling away from her.

She waved a finger in his direction, hoping he got her meaning that she would tell him soon, but she did not stop.

It led her down the long hallways of vaulted ceilings and stone columns back to the Great Hall. She stopped and looked around. There were dozens of people eating, many others leaving after having finished, or arriving just now to begin.

Her eyes fell upon Shiatha sitting with a small group of people that appeared to be gossiping. The woman was involved in a conversation of frivolous scandal. Minyera reached out to her but felt very little, yet from her came the giggling energy. As Minyera looked down at the woman's large belly, she realized who had tried to soothe her. She tickled back with her mind and felt the giggle once more. As this happened, Shiatha adjusted in her seat, her hand resting upon her soon-to-be born child.

Looking down, Shiatha said, "That's enough little one."

There was the giggle again.

Excited, Minyera walked over to the table. "Shiatha, may I speak with you," she asked.

Surprised, the woman jolted slightly at the sudden presence. Once she realized who had made the request, she smiled warmly. "Of course," she replied.

Minyera helped her stand before leading her to the Hall of Spirit.

"How are you feeling?" Minyera asked once she had closed the door behind them and they stood alone in the dimly lit hall.

As she had hoped, the energy from Shiatha's baby soaked in the strength from the hall. Thousands of years of magic had been performed there and, as Minyera had suspected, the child's energy resonated nicely with that of the fifth post.

Shiatha shrugged. "Uncomfortable," she replied. "I am so happy it should only be a few more weeks. If I were a Wolf, I would have to revert at this rate. I am so glad that didn't end up happening."

Minyera tilted her head involuntarily. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Didn't I tell you?" Shiatha asked but without waiting for an answer added, "The father is a soldier on Dominans."

With the current circumstances, Minyera's heart sank. "Does he know?" she asked.

Shiatha nodded firmly and repeatedly. "But we haven't spoken since ..." she cut off without saying what they both knew.

Minyera nodded to indicate her understanding. "If you would like, we could try to arrange transport for him to stay here amongst us?" Her suggestion had felt truly noble and she was hopeful that she could ease the strain upon the woman.

To her surprise, Shiatha shook her head. "I was the only Cat he didn't mind. He would hate it here. He is probably thrilled at the idea of fighting us."

"Do you want to go to him?" Minyera asked, trying to keep her tone neutral despite her now ardent emotional connection to the child in the woman's womb.

Shiatha's eyes widened and her shoulders seemed to rise from a slump. "You would allow that?" she asked.

The lit torches in the hall seemed far too dim and too bright at the same time. Minyera felt her stomach dropping to her feet as she contemplated what that would mean. "You realize that any Cat going to Dominans risks death, no matter who their lover is?" she explained hoping Shiatha would not see her as disapproving but pragmatic.

Shiatha's shoulders fell back down and she nodded.

"There is another complication," Minyera added. "I am quite sure that the baby you are carrying has the capability of being a replacement for the fifth mage."

This news caught the woman entirely by surprise. She gave an exaggerated blink before shaking her head in disbelief. "H-how do you know?" she asked.

"Only a mage would be able to reach out to me the way that child did. As I felt frustration, he reached out to me and lifted my mood effortlessly. Tryailla needs him very much and he must stay with us," Minyera explained.

"And if I choose to leave Tryailla and go to Dominans?" Shiatha asked, her cheeks reddening and her voice gaining a roughness that removed all traces of her innocence.

"That is the complication," Minyera replied. "Without that child, Tryailla will cease to be. If you take him away, you will be condemning your entire race."

Shiatha's hands wrapped protectively around her belly. "He is my child. Find someone else to be the mage," she shouted.

Though Minyera's grief at her own failure wanted to lash out, that would not be fair. It appeared it would not be possible either. Her brief emotional falter had been met by the child. He had placed a barrier between them, protecting his mother from any violence, emotional or otherwise. Holding firmly onto calm, Minyera explained.

"I have been searching for months," she said. "Fagan, the mages, and I have been searching. The storm that rages outside will not end until I have found the fifth to help strengthen the barrier that protects us. That barrier is weakening. We are out of time and there is no one else. Your child is the only one. Please, please let me arrange for your lover to join us here. We need you to stay."

"You need my baby to stay," she shot back.

"I said 'we'," Minyera pointed out. "And I meant 'we'. Every last one of us, even you depend on it. Even your lover whether or not he remains upon Dominans. I do not want to break apart a family."

"But you will if you have to," Shiatha said. Though she spoke more calmly, her anger continued to strengthen her voice.

Minyera understood love. She understood that beyond her lover and child, no one else mattered to Shiatha. However, she also understood very acutely what Shiatha seemed too stubborn to comprehend, that the survival of her family rested very strongly upon the equal survival of her entire race. If the barrier fell, it would be over and the gods would win.

With these thoughts, she felt another giggle at her navel. She looked into Shiatha's eyes. They were less venomous. She looked at her hands upon her belly and they were less tense. Even if Shiatha did not understand, her child did and with his giggle, Minyera trusted him.

"Please, Shiatha," she said quietly. "Ultimately, I cannot make any decision for you but please grant me two requests. First, take tonight to think about the situation and what I have said. Second, please come to the Great Hall tomorrow morning so that I can show you how important the work your child could do is. Afterwards, you can make your decision and we can deal with it from there."

Minyera felt the tickle of that giggle again and Shiatha nodded in agreement.

"Then we shall speak tomorrow," Minyera announced. "Thank you, Shiatha."

* * *

Yuje was finding his new job much more difficult than being a social outcast. Iogrevard was a terrifying Alpha and his imagination was twisted. Yuje had considered running away many times but he was becoming more and more convinced that wherever he went, Iogrevard would find him. He had contemplated killing himself but ultimately was a coward. His lack of conviction in ending his own life ensured he suffered the full guilt and horror from his nightly errands.

Iogrevard sent him to the street each night in search of orphans. There were not many and they were difficult to find when they wanted to stay hidden. Yuje remembered from his own experience how important it could be to hide at night simply to avoid a drunken soldier wanting to give a beating. He wondered if that is why Iogrevard had chosen to take him in, because his own experience made him especially well-suited to finding those who wanted to stay hidden. He could think of no other reason why he himself was not subjected to one of Iogrevard's experiments.

Each night, he would bring back his latest find; always a child. They had had no chance to enlist to shed their lives of anonymous scrounging.

Iogrevard would tie the poor child to a table in his chambers. Standing shirtless above them, he would make Yuje watch as he would cut into a strange mark upon his stomach. The spiral swirled despite looking as if it had been painted on the skin and Iogrevard seemed strangely uncaring that Yuje knew about it, though he seemed very concerned that Yuje keep it to himself.

When he had dared to ask about it, Iogrevard became annoyed and muttered something about a gift from their enemies.

His first experiment had been more odd than horrifying. It began with Iogrevard cutting into the mark, which always resulted in him needing a few moments to recover himself. Though he had never said, Yuje was sure it was more painful than most cuts, like the mark itself was punishing him for marring it. All Iogrevard did the first time was to take his hand and rub it into the blood. He then put his bloodied hand upon the naked abdomen of the ten year old boy Yuje had brought him.

The boy looked very much like Yuje had at that age only more lanky. Nothing had happened when the blood was pressed against his skin. Though Yuje had no idea what the point of the experiments were, he had remembered feeling relieved when the first attempt had been uneventful. There could be no good reason Iogrevard insisted upon subjects who were invisible to society.

Iogrevard took more blood from his quickly healing wound, and drew a spiral upon the boy's abdomen so that it matched his own. In the boy's case, it remained stationary and did not begin to rotate like Iogrevard's. At first this irritated him and he told Yuje to watch the boy for the night. Yuje reluctantly obeyed.

To his horror, the experiments turned fatal very quickly the next night. Iogrevard returned, looking very pensive. He walked over to the boy who still had the dried blood spiral on his skin. Yuje could not understand what he saw happen beyond that Iogrevard placed both hands upon the spiral, closed his eyes and seemed to mutter to himself. When he pulled his hands away, the spiral was now turning synchronously with his own. This had made him very happy but his mood was short lived.

He told the frightened boy to lie to him, he asked him to say he would kill Tryailla and even him. The boy would not speak. To be fair, he was too frightened to say much of anything. The lack of cooperation seemed to annoy Iogrevard the most. He ripped the restraining ropes away and pulled the boy to his feet. Roughly, he pressed the handle of his own knife into the boy's hand.

"Stab me," he had said. "Stab the centre of the spiral."

The boy shook and looked as if his muscles would give way and he would simply fall to the floor. Iogrevard grabbed him by the shoulders and screamed at him. If the boy did not stab him, he would kill the boy and he would do it slowly. He badgered the child and screamed at him and did not stop until the child lunged forward with the blade to pierce him.

The blade never reached Iogrevard's skin. In mid-lunge the boy convulsed strangely, his eyes rolled back and his body fell limply to the floor.

Iogrevard had sworn loudly. After a moment, he told Yuje to dispose of the body.

Removing the dead became his second nightly task that made him contemplate suicide or escape.

For weeks these experiments continued, each night with a new child, until one night even Yuje could not find an orphan. Though it was likely just coincidence, he worried that the street children had learned that his presence was a bad omen and began to hide more thoroughly to avoid capture. As he returned to the compound just before sunrise to inform Iogrevard of his failure, he could not help but wonder if his master would change his form of usefulness.

It was with a trembling hand that he now knocked on the door to the Alpha's chamber. When he heard the command to enter, he hesitated. The command came again, angrily this time. He entered.

"I know you don't have anyone for me," Iogrevard said.

He was inspecting a large rolled out paper upon the table in the middle of the room. Though the thin markings upon it were difficult to see clearly from the door, Yuje thought the drawings looked similar to the Dragon's transport vessels though longer. There were no other lights but for the fire and he did not know how Iogrevard could concentrate upon the images with such flickering.

Yuje jumped as the Alpha spoke again. "Try again tomorrow night," he said. "We don't have enough time for frequent setbacks. Now get some sleep."

Yuje nodded and went to the corner where he had become accustomed to sitting to get rest. Iogrevard had offered his plank many times but Yuje was too afraid he would wake up strapped to it with a slowly spinning spiral looking down at him.

Though his fear and his guilt battled with each other incessantly, his curiosity at being spared a similar fate as those children pushed his fear aside for a moment. It was enough for the guilt to gain a stable footing and for him to dare question the Alpha.

"What are you trying to do with the children?" he asked from the corner.

Iogrevard looked up and blinked as though he had just been woken from sleep.

"Why not me?" Yuje pushed. With the words spoken, his stomach sank as his fear returned. He was inviting more trouble than he really wanted.

"You are more useful to me as you are," Iogrevard replied.

Yuje found himself getting angry and to his relief, he finally felt a surge of honour within him. "And children are not useful enough to live?" he asked.

Looking him straight in the eye, Iogrevard replied, "You do not understand what I am doing. I want those children to live. I want each and every one of them to live."

"Then leave them in the streets!" Yuje yelled. "Neglect is better than what you are doing."

Iogrevard raised his voice. "If I don't do this, it could mean we all die," he said. His voice became even louder and Yuje saw that he had pressed Iogrevard to a point he had not yet seen. "I am not a monster and I will not be judged and lectured as such by the ignorant likes of you. You know nothing of what is really happening around you."

"I know enough to know what is wrong," Yuje defended. "This is wrong. Killing children is wrong. How could killing children save us from Shinga?"

Iogrevard's frustration had reached its peak but rather than attack as Yuje had expected, he stormed from the room.

* * *

Gryp slammed the door shut behind him and hurried to the archives. It was difficult enough doing what he needed without being reminded of what he had tried so hard to set aside.

Each time one of them died, he thought of the Alpha, of Grindella, the one person who had seen him as a noble warrior trying to save the people. It had felt wonderful for someone to believe in him and that even he was capable of unselfish good. With each death, he was reminded how much it was all a lie. With each death, he saw her disappointed face in his mind and felt the memory of her love slip further and further away.

He had to do it. He had to find a way to use the blood. He had managed barely the spell Tryailla had placed upon him. The most he could manage was killing children who attempted to violate the terms of the mark by killing him. He could not give them any abilities. He could not elevate their energy in a way that would hide them from the gods. He could not even submit them to his will. At the current rate, he would have a mountain of dead children and no way to fight the gods and no army capable enough to defy them.

Wrenching the door to the archives open, he heard it creak quietly on its hinges. He stopped. That door had never creaked. He didn't move. The sound came again. It was not a creak. It was similar to a whisper but also like a shriek.

He spun around. He was alone.

"Gryp ..." The sound was becoming more and more like a whisper and less and less like a shriek.

"Who's there?" he called, spinning around again.

"They know, Gryp," it said. "They know Lapidus is here. Lilith will come for him."

"Vanagandr?" he called.

"Do not send him out again," it instructed. "Keep him within the barrier."

"Show yourself!" he commanded but there was no response.

He called again. There was no reply. The archives remained silent but for his own breathing, which sounded louder and louder to his own ears the longer he waited. After several more moments of no response, he lunged for the door, pulled it open and ran back to his chambers.

Whether Yuje really was asleep or only feigning it, he was still huddled in the corner. As Gryp watched him, he could not escape that he would have to find subjects another way.

Yuje's form remained still. Gryp thought of the true identity that lay dormant within the frail man before him. He considered the Thinkers blood within him. He considered what that meant for his experiments. Perhaps he had been approaching the problem from entirely the wrong angle and the only subject he could use was right before him. He could not waste the opportunity frivolously. He needed to be sure first. It could take time before he had such certainty, but he felt closer than ever to his answers.

With the warning he had just received, he also felt closer than ever to having them slip through his fingers. He needed Vanagandr.

# Chapter 16

Minyera awoke the next morning feeling confident. The storm still raged outside and none of her problems had yet been solved. There was far too much to worry about but she could not find her usual concern present. Thinking of each problem did not even make it return. She thought of the baby. Perhaps, whether actively or passively, he was the source of her calm.

It was an important day; one that should only happen once in a lifetime. She would be experiencing it for the second time in fewer than two years.

After she had left Shiatha, she had informed the mages of the development. She also told them something she had not told the mother. This baby could be the most powerful mage in their known history. She intended to perform the Great Rite. The mages had worried about the chance of success. When she stressed her confidence in the child and explained how developed his abilities to manipulate the energies were, their fears switched to the success of convincing the mother. As their adventures with Barjl had proven, lacking the fifth mage after the ritual affected the barrier as much as not having one there at all.

They could not afford for her to leave with the child. Minyera knew she would never find another replacement if she lost this miraculous child.

As she got out of bed, she pulled her light chiffon sleeping gown over her head. Walking to the large pool in the main room, she called back to Fagan. His face was still buried in the mattress, which she suspected now had a small puddle of drool right under where his mouth gaped.

"Get up, we have to cleanse before the ritual," she said. "The mages will likely have Shiatha ready any moment."

Her stomach growled as her hunger clawed impatiently. Food would have to wait.

The water was very cold, especially when one had to endure it so quickly after lying in a warm bed. Despite her calm, she had a growing eagerness to restore the barrier. She endured the shivering as she washed and dried herself quickly. She returned to her room to find her beige ritual robe.

Fagan was still unconscious on the bed. She called to him again to get up. He groaned.

As she pulled the cloak from the mess of the wardrobe, she also grabbed a heavy overcoat that she had only ever worn to Dominans and threw it at him. It landed on his head. He groaned again but this time with a distinctive whine.

"Since when are you a late riser?" she asked. "We need you awake and coherent today. Get up."

With an annoyed flourish, he threw the cloak to the ground and the blankets off him. He glared at her.

"I also need to be rested and happy to be of any use to you today," he grumbled.

She smiled without sympathy. "You are rested," she reasoned. "You slept the entire night. Now get up."

He hesitated long enough that she thought he was going to be deliberately difficult.

"Fine, do what you want," she said, "But we need to show Shiatha how important her child is. We can't do that if you're asleep in bed. I'll be doing my duty while you let the gods find our people all so you can have a nap."

He knew her too well to take the lecture seriously and she knew him too well to think he would hold his ground once she left. Shaking her head in mock disappointment, she headed to the Great Hall to meet with the mages.

When she arrived, they were gathered around the central star with Shiatha. The hall was quiet as they had already ushered out anyone who had come looking for an early breakfast.

Shiatha's hands were loosely clasped. Her fingers twisted and writhed around each other.

After greeting the gathered, Minyera asked her, "Are you nervous?"

She nodded.

Minyera smiled, hoping it would be reassuring. "You have nothing to do but stand in the designated position," she explained. "You will be the first person to witness this who has not been involved in the ritual itself."

"I am still not clear what ritual that is," Shiatha replied.

"It is the ritual that secures the barrier that protects us," Minyera explained.

Shiatha's eyes widened. "You think an unborn child can help you with such things?" she asked.

Minyera nodded and replied, "But only this child."

Quite predictably, Fagan arrived in the hall moments later wearing a robe that matched Minyera's.

"Shall we begin?" he asked as he joined them.

Minyera nodded and the mages took their places upon the points of the star, kindly directing Shiatha to the fifth. The platform began to descend with the leaders in the middle.

When Minyera's mother had shared the histories with her, she had mentioned how the subterranean chamber was used only once by each ruler. It had never been needed more than that.

Considering the events of the last several months, this descent would make Minyera's number of uses equal to the four previous generations combined. Hopefully it would be the last time in her life that it was necessary.

There was that rush of calm again. The child was determined to keep her happy.

Once in the chamber, the mages guided Shiatha to her spot, which was not far from the platform itself. They then walked in a clockwise circle, each mage breaking from the others to stop on their own points as it was passed.

Minyera and Fagan dropped their robes and walked to the centre. There were no spoken words in the ritual but there was much that was being said.

The couple faced each other.

Fagan knelt on the ground and bowed to kiss each of her feet. He then kissed her knees, followed by her womb, then her breasts, and finally her lips. When he pulled away, she knelt and performed the same kiss; his feet, his knees, his phallus, his chest, and finally his lips. These points were to be excited to aid in the flow of their energies. The kiss was saying they were ready.

When she reached his lips, she did not pull away but opened her mouth so that they could exchange breath. It was important that they keep the rhythm perfect as she exhaled and he inhaled. His shifting to breathing out had to match exactly with her shift. As they continued, they lowered to the ground. She wrapped her legs around him as he crossed his beneath her. His body entered hers as they settled on the stone. They had to exchange as much of each other as possible to align their energies. Elevating the vibration of an entire planet and all the life upon it by even a hair's breadth was not easy. For any two other people, the task would have been impossible. Their angel blood made it possible.

As they continued to join and increase their energies, she could feel the power radiating from their forms. As if there were a wind that touched only the spirit, the energies were carried into a spiralling dance above them. Her eyes were closed, but in her mind the spiral was a brilliant purple. Perhaps that is what the mages saw. She could feel their efforts to guide it. There was no weakness within it.

She and Fagan added more to the spiral above them and even began to help the mages to guide it. It became larger and larger, enveloping the entire room, continuing to grow with their accelerating efforts.

As they climaxed, the spiral grew exponentially, enveloping the entire palace and not stopping its growth until they had placed it firmly against the extents of the barrier where it joined happily with the existing energies.

The chamber felt as though it was humming. It had been the same after the first time they had performed the Great Rite.

Satisfied with the work they had done, Minyera looked at each of the panting mages in thanks from her place slumped over Fagan's shoulder. When she got to Shiatha, her stomach sank. Her fear was far stronger than what the child could nourish, and the child was as tired as the others.

Shiatha's mouth and eyes were wide in complete horror.

* * *

"Vanagandr!" Gryp called once he had made it to the secret chamber.

He had quickly returned to his room to ensure Yuje was still there. His assistant was asleep. Reluctantly, Gryp left him alone and used the corridor Vanagandr had created from his room to reach the secret chamber.

The wolf was nowhere to be seen. He called again as he listened to the rushing waters of the drainage canals and breathed in the wet chalk of the chamber.

A moment later, his reluctant ally appeared standing at the opposite end of the room, his wings twitching. "The energies are angry tonight," he said down his nose. "Why did you call me out?"

"I heard some kind of voice," Gryp replied.

The wolf raised a brow. "And you think this worthy of my attention?" he asked.

Gryp pursed his lips in protest at the insult before saying, "When it gave me a warning about Lilith coming to Dominans to fetch Lapidus, yes."

The wolf's rear fell to the floor. "Impossible," he said. "Do you have any idea whose voice it was?"

"Obviously not," Gryp explained.

Vanagandr stood and began to pace, staring at the floor as he spoke. "She cannot come to Dominans. None of those gods can. Something must have changed or someone is helping them." He stopped and stared at the wall in front of him. "They would kill her first," he muttered to himself.

"Who?" Gryp asked.

Vanagandr looked at him. "Did the voice say anything else?"

Gryp nodded. "It said to keep Lapidus inside the barrier," he said.

"That is good for us," Vanagandr replied. "Very good for us. It means Lilith still cannot penetrate the core of the energy but if she can even come close, too much has changed. We must take extra precautions."

"What do you suggest? It isn't like I have anything I can do," Gryp said.

Vanagandr walked up to him. His wings were still twitching. Gryp had never seen him this agitated even when they had both been ready to kill each other out of irritation.

"Your Thinker's blood can do much for me," he said. "There is one trick in particular that will help us now."

Gryp glared and clenched his fists. "You never thought it important enough to share with me before now? I could have used it before!"

Vanagandr was unmoved. "Unlikely," he said. "You have never been hiding within a barrier that also had a physical counterpart before. This requires a physical component."

Despite this vague explanation, Gryp still wanted to punch him for holding back yet again.

The wolf moved to the centre of the room.

"Push the earth up here," he instructed.

Not wanting to waste even more time, Gryp did as he was told. The stones flowed upward into a point.

"Now put yourself inside it," Vanagandr said.

Gryp scoffed. "Why didn't you ask me to do that in the first place? Getting into after it's formed is pointless."

The reply he received was a very loud growl. "I did not say to climb inside it, fool," he said. "I said to put yourself inside it. Push a piece of yourself through the floor. Make it as narrow as you can. So long as there are no gaps, it is thick enough. Push it until it creates a knotted mesh through the stone itself. When the mesh is completely secure, you can break off that portion of yourself and leave it in the stone."

"And what would the point of that be?" Gryp asked.

"I am in no mood for you today," Vanagandr replied. "Do not make me rip out your throat. If you are too stupid to recall the flaw in the Thinkers' previous manipulations of external matter, then you are too stupid to learn this technique."

They stared at each other for several more moments. Gryp then looked back at the stone. What flaw was there?

He thought back at all his uses of shifting external matter. He even tried to recall when it was used by others. Finally, he realized what the wolf had meant. A Thinker's form could not be altered by another if they were unwilling but external matter that a Thinker had shaped could be easily changed by the next person wanting to manipulate it.

"It prevents anyone but me from changing it?" he asked.

Vanagandr nodded. "Now try it," he ordered.

Gryp focused upon his feet. He thought of the molecular construction of his cells. He began to form a chain using the tiniest bits of himself that he could manage. He pushed it and guided it through the spaces in the molecules of his boot and into the floor. He pushed it up the spike. He twirled it around and crossed it back over itself. In his mind it looked like a gold, purple, and black braid of thread forming a net. When he had worked it back down to the base, he looped it over itself like tying a rope.

"Now severe the connection," Vanagandr instructed."

Gryp hesitated. "I don't know how," he said.

"Snap it, cut it free, create a break in the chain," Vanagandr barked. "Are you really this stupid?"

Despite Vanagandr's simplistic explanation, Gryp did not find the task any easier. He tried to push one side of the chain with his mind while pulling the other but the connection of his thoughts to the far end of the chain refused to let go. He tried to think of other cells cutting through it but they only joined the braid.

Without any other ideas, he tried the last suggestion he had been given. He tried to make more of the chain but increased the gaps between the particles gradually. Finally, one of the gaps was too big. It's connection held for only a second before it collapse, severing the chain from his body.

He rubbed his aching forehead. He had been straining too much.

"Finally," Vanagandr said, unimpressed. "You will need to practice that technique but it should help add another hurdle for the gods to figure out. It will buy us time."

Gryp's foot was beginning to ache and twinge as if he had cut himself.

"Why does my foot hurt?" he asked.

Vanagandr shrugged. "You have amputated your living energy. There will always be discomfort and you will have limits to what you can do with this. For our purposes, there should be enough before you die."

Gryp looked at the point in the middle of the room. A part of him that was so important was wasted on that?

"You can always pull it back when you are done," Vanagandr explained. "Though not if someone else learns how to break it."

Gryp reached out again with his thoughts and grabbed onto the chain. It rejoined with his being eagerly. He pulled it cleanly from the point until it was entire encased within him once more.

"Do you know how to break it?" he asked the wolf.

Vanagandr shook his head. "I cannot and I doubt anyone else could," he said. "We do not have time to be concerned about that at this moment. You must now go practice on the barrier."

Gryp nodded and left.

# Chapter 17

After the ritual, Shiatha had said nothing to Minyera, Fagan, or any of the mages. Her obvious discomfort with what had happened was a severe obstacle. They needed her to be cooperative and willing. The skilled work that her unborn child had accomplished was too important to have it sabotaged by the mother, but that looked to be exactly what would happen.

It had been weeks since the Great Rite had been performed. It had worked exactly as Minyera had hoped. The barrier was the strongest she had ever seen it, but she knew that still hinged upon the child's unwavering presence.

In those weeks, Shiatha had given birth to a human boy. It had been a surprisingly easy labour given that it was her first child. The lack of complication had no doubt been the child's doing.

He was healthy and always calm. Shiatha named him Mincari, after the light breezes of Tryailla because he stirred up great energy with little force and was never tempestuous.

With her newborn snuggling in her arms, Shiatha came to Minyera's chambers. Minyera was just about to go talk with Nira when the knock had come at the door. She let the mother inside. The two women stood next to the pool as they talked. The statue of Minyera's ancestor looked over them.

"I am taking Mincari to Dominans," Shiatha said. "He should be with his father."

"I am sorry," Minyera replied, "I cannot let you leave now."

"Am I a prisoner?" she asked, clutching Mincari closer to her chest.

Minyera concentrated on her breath, trying to keep her emotions controlled. She could not help but glance into Mincari's dark eyes. He was observing without interfering. She wondered why he was not trying to calm either woman like he had in the womb.

"It is too important that you stay," Minyera pleaded. "Please, let us send for the father. We can get him here. Consider Mincari's wellbeing. Dominans is a difficult place for a child to grow and they struggled for necessities even before our help was cut off."

Shiatha's eyes narrowed and when she spoke, her lips were tight. "I _am_ thinking of my son's wellbeing," she said. "And how dare you insult his father. His father is a wonderful, strong man who grew up in the same place you dislike so much. It is a place of discipline not protected by the energies of depraved lust but of determination."

Minyera felt as though Shiatha had just slapped her across the face. For a second, she even wondered if the woman had for her cheeks had reddened with her anger so much that they stung. She wanted to scream, to demand how the woman had the nerve to insult such sacred things all in favour of some hot headed Wolves, but that would not help the situation. Instead, she swallowed her anger as best she could.

With forced evenness in her voice, she said, "I am sorry you feel that way and I do not agree with your assessment of our most ancient of traditions, but I simply cannot let you leave. To allow the loss of another mage would put Tryailla in too much danger. Mincari must stay... " She paused and considered before adding, "Even if you do not."

Shiatha's expression was murderous. "You would take my child from me simply to ensure you win some war with the Wolves?" she asked.

Minyera's arguments were at a disadvantage simply because Shiatha did not know the truth. If Tryailla fell, all Thinkers and children would follow. If the wrong person knew the truth, the same could happen, but Minyera had no choice. She was not skilled enough at manipulation to get her way without divulging the truth.

"There is more at stake here than Tryailla," she said, "And there is more to the Great Rite than lust. Will you let me explain?"

The hard lines of Shiatha's anger were replaced with those of confusion, but she nodded.

Minyera led her to the balcony where they could sit comfortably as they talked. With great reluctance, she shared more about the truth than even the loyal mages knew. She did not risk sharing everything; she did not discuss the abductions or the angels. She kept her words to those of the Gods. She told Shiatha about their threat to the people of all races and how Tryailla was the stronghold which they sought. She explained that the Great Rite was necessary to ensure Tryailla remained hidden from their biggest threat. Finally, she told Shiatha that protecting Tryailla from the Gods was also important in their efforts to protect Dominans and Tatsu.

Shiatha listened without interruption. She slowly rocked Mincari, who was slipping in and out of contented consciousness. He seemed unconcerned with the story being told. Minyera wondered if he was capable of fully understanding it yet, despite his skill. After all, she was speaking with verbal language, not thoughts or emotion.

When she was done, Shiatha said nothing. Further, Minyera could feel no indication whatsoever of what the woman was feeling. The absent empathy was disquieting and she found herself surprised when Shiatha finally spoke.

"I will consider what you have told me, but I cannot promise anything," she said.

"It is important that no one know what I have just told you," Minyera stressed. "We cannot have panic hurt the people and there have been those who betrayed their own kind in the past. We cannot trust simply due to blood."

Shiatha nodded. "I have heard the stories of Gryp when we were on Dominans," she said. She seemed to consider for a few moments more before adding, "Would I be able to go to Dominans to bring Mincari's father back?"

Minyera did not trust her fully but she could not deny her either. "So long as you leave Mincari in our care, you may go yourself," she said.

The hard lines returned abruptly to Shiatha's face for only a moment before softening once more. "Very well," she said. "I want to go tonight."

Agreeing, Minyera stood and assured Shiatha everything would turn out alright. Shiatha nodded but a faint drop of her emotions eked out of her and Minyera knew the woman did not agree. So long as Mincari remained on Tryailla, Minyera was unconcerned with Shiatha's feelings. She had found the first of her people for whom she was caring less and less.

* * *

Shinga turned her head to look at the grey stone wall as the beautiful Siute passed. Barjl placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She covered his hand in hers and squeezed back.

Barjl had finally relented that they could be no more ready than they already were for going after Gryp. Unfortunately, the task was proving more difficult for Shinga than she had expected.

She continued to keep her face hidden even though it would not have been possible for Siute to recognize her. She and Barjl had taken the forms of two new recruits and had tried to make their features as unremarkable as possible. Their hair was a dull brown; their eyes a faded green. They made their skin slightly rough and weathered without going so far as to add any distracting blemishes. The entire point was to be overlooked. They had even come to the Quarters just before sundown, hoping the poor light would aide in the camouflage but it would not be so late that the gates would be closed for the night.

They had intended to walk directly into the compound after teleporting into an alley in the Quarters. Despite the lifetimes she had had, Shinga's most recent life as someone other than herself was as the awkward Poria. Poria's life had taken place almost entirely within these narrow streets. For the first time since being that girl, she felt self-conscious.

Comforting herself with the logic that it was simply the stress of their intended mission, she forced the trepidation down. It refused to go any lower than her navel, creating an unpleasant tingling sensation in her guts. At the very least, it was easier to ignore than the sinking feeling in her heart.

Without intending it to, their path to the gates took her by her old home. As she walked by, she heard her mother yelling at someone about discipline in the current situation. Shinga could not help but think of her siblings. One of them was receiving that lecture.

Then, her history forced the trivial life aside. Her memories of the rape, of the council, of her entire race betraying her reminded her that such families meant nothing. If she were to enter that home in her true form, the only question would be which weapon her mother would use to gut her in the doorway.

They continued on despite her momentary hesitation. They turned the final corner to face the gates. At that moment, Shinga's head felt as though it had split. Doubling over, she vomited onto the ground, which did nothing to alleviate the pain. It only intensified as her entire skeleton felt as though it would shatter.

She looked up at the gates, desperate to convince herself she could go on. Her eyes locked with those of a dark-haired woman who stood naked just outside the opening to the compound. Shinga could not understand it but she could feel the woman's shock and terror so deeply that she could taste it in the dryness of her own mouth. She could smell the woman's hatred and loathing as it jabbed uncomfortably at her nostrils.

A second later, the woman was gone but the wrenching within Shinga continued to churn and fight. It felt as if she contained too much, as if her entire body were going to go in all directions. Through all the pain and discomfort, she felt euphoria. She felt the closest to her non-corporeal form since the first Thinker took the first animal as a host. She felt none of it mattered and all of it mattered at the same time.

"What's wrong? Are you going to be alright?" Barjl asked as he rubbed her back with one hand.

Shinga nodded vigorously but was unable to speak. Her mouth was too far removed from her body. It felt planets away from her though it was slowly coming back. Parts of her wanted to remain far away. She was still having trouble focusing.

"Who the hell was that and how did she do that to you? That could have blown everything!" He was whispering but his voice was frantic.

Panting, she forced herself to straighten. She forced her mind into submission by thinking of each detail of her current form. Her mouth felt connected again, though her emotions continued to jump from terror to elation.

"I'm sure no one noticed," she replied, still trying to keep her focus on her body.

"You better hope they didn't," he said. "You turned into your real form for a moment there. We would have been in trouble if anyone recognized you."

Shinga was confused. She hadn't felt any change to her appearance. As she was putting herself back in order, she hadn't felt any part that was different than what it should have been. Perhaps she had just been distracted.

"Are you alright to go?" Barjl asked again, his concern returning and tempering his outrage.

She nodded. "I think so, the pain is passing."

They walked into the open and to the gates. To their surprise, as they went to pass through, several soldiers ran out to surround them.

"What is your business?" barked one of them to Shinga's left.

"We are new recruits," she replied.

"Then you have been living under a rock. New rules: no recruits are allowed to enlist except on the new moon. Go back to your mothers and come back in a few days," he ordered.

Barjl looked at Shinga, unsure of what to do. He had not lived amongst the Wolves in a very long time. He had deliberately avoided their race due to the bitterness he felt towards them. He was now completely unfamiliar with their customs. Shinga, however, had just had a very informative childhood amongst these people.

"Sir, if I go back home tonight, my father will beat me so badly that I may not survive," she lied.

The soldier was unmoved as she had expected. "Your problem, pup. Get going," he ordered again.

"Then I have no choice," she said with an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders. "I demand a formal challenge with the Alpha."

Several of the soldiers burst into laughter, the leader simply gaped at her.

"Are you insane?" he said. "Not even the generals would challenge this Alpha. You'd live longer being beaten by your father."

She looked him directly in the eyes, hoping to unnerve him a little. "But with the Alpha, I am likely to die quickly. My father is a cruel man, sir." When the soldier said nothing, she made her voice more forceful. "No matter what you think of the challenger, you are required to retrieve the Alpha and we must fight."

The laughter quieted to an uneasy silence in which the soldiers looked at each other nervously. She would not back down.

"Don't go throwing your life away," the leader said quietly. "You're stubborn, that's good, but take your beating at home and use your strength to become a real soldier. Don't throw it away like this, pup."

She shook her head. "You do not understand. I have no choice. I will stay until I have faced the Alpha."

The leader nodded slowly. "Wait here," he said before leaving to retrieve the Alpha.

Barjl looked at her. With his current form, his visible trepidation only added to his youthfulness. She wished she could reassure him but she too had little confidence in this plan. They had hoped to enter the compound undetected but security had been increased to unprecedented levels. They had hoped to search the compound in the night but they could not even get through the gates. The only part of their plan that looked as though it would happen was coming face to face with Gryp. Unlike their plan, it would not be on their terms.

Long ago, she had heard rumours that he might have been the one to kill Ventha and with her fang in his possession, she knew first hand that he hand a weapon capable of killing a Thinker. It was only the possibility of Gryp fleeing again with the fang that made her stay. There were no guarantees of when she would get another chance, but now, she readied herself for the real possibility that she was about to die.

# Chapter 18

Gryp had spent most of the day discussing strategy with his generals. Now, he was hurrying back to his room to test out his theory on Yuje. As he turned a corner, a young soldier nearly crashed into him.

"Explain yourself," he demanded of the man.

"I have come to fetch you," he said. "There is a challenge."

Gryp did not move but he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and clenched his jaw. Of all the nights to be delayed.

"I-it's a young girl; a new recruit," the man added.

Slowly, Gryp's eyes lowered to focus on the soldier, examining him for any sign that he had invented the story. There was no reason any soldier would invent such silliness, especially when the punishment would be harsh. The Wolves were not known for playing pranks upon their superiors. The oddness of the situation still made him wary.

"A young girl?" he asked. "What does she look like?"

The soldier seemed confused and had little to offer. "Just some pup," he said.

Gryp had no intention of killing the girl, challenge or not, but she might be useful after learning more from Yuje.

"Take me to her," Gryp ordered.

They were both crossing the courtyard only moments later.

He had not gone far. He could see only the child's silhouette through the darkness, but he noticed several things. Firstly, the girl was not alone. There was another with her. The stature seemed to indicate a boy of the same age. Secondly, and much more significantly he could feel the venom directed at him from the boy. He followed it back to the source to probe at his thoughts.

When he had trouble gaining access to the boy's mind, he stopped for a moment to consider the situation. He knew who the pair was. If Shinga came within the barrier, Vanagandr might get himself involved. That seemed a genocidally unwise possibility with the warning of Lilith's coming.

At the same time, he considered the experiments he had wanted to perform. He looked directly at the one who hated him so thoroughly. If he could keep Barjl contained, he would be a specimen he could truly experiment on without reservation. Barjl's hatred would make it easy. It would also help him understand the extents to which the mark could demand obedience.

Barjl was brute force but Gryp had spent lifetimes developing his skills under the tutelage of a god even if that tutelage had been little more than bitter neglect for the most part. He had not yet had a chance to practice his most recently learned skill but to imprison Barjl would require it. The trick would be keeping anyone else from noticing and even more so, ensuring Shinga did not interfere. For all of it, he would need them to be convinced he had not figured out their identities.

"Is this a joke?" he mocked as he walked closer to the open gate.

"I challenge you!" the girl yelled.

He laughed. "You must be the youngest to ever challenge an Alpha, and the dumbest," he said. He looked at the guard nearest the gate. "Close it. We have more important things to worry about."

Before the soldier could close it, she stepped half a pace forward. Gryp's breath caught in his throat. The soldier did not appear eager to close the gate in her way and she was perilously close to entering the barrier and would not be deterred. He had not yet had a chance to reinforce it. It could not protect him if she was already inside it.

"Wolf law demands that you fight me. No challenge can be ignored no matter how unevenly matched," she argued.

He looked at the small frame that held Barjl's thought. "What do you think of this?" he asked. "Do you think your friend should fight me?"

"Just give her the chance," Barjl replied.

A strong burst of wind blew down the mountain. Gryp sniffed it.

"A blizzard is coming," he said. "You should return home before it hits."

"Either I win or I die. There is no returning home," Shinga said. "Let me through."

"I will make a deal with you," he replied. "Seeing as your friend is much more level headed and calm than you appear to be at this moment, I will let him in. If he can argue your case well enough, I will let you in."

Shinga hesitated. Barjl shifted his weight eagerly. His judgement was compromised by his hatred. They looked at each other. A moment later, Barjl stepped away from her and through the barrier.

"Close the gate," Gryp called.

His order was now obeyed and it slid shut, nearly brushing Shinga's nose. He quickly ran over the steps Vanagandr had taught him to further strengthen the closure. It was difficult with so many distractions but he managed to complete the mesh quickly. Shinga would not be getting inside.

When both Barjl and Shinga looked outraged and ready to lash out, he said, "Calm yourself, boy. It is simply a precaution. We don't want our real enemies getting in while your friend waits. Now come inside with me." As he turned and began to walk back to the main hall, he ordered the soldiers to keep an eye on the girl.

He let Barjl walk into the hall first. He closed the large doors behind them and when he was sure that none of the Wolves could see, he attacked.

With his mind he performed Vanagandr's trick once more. This unexpected intrusion was giving him plenty of practice. He changed the rock flooring so that it climbed up Barjl's body and entrapped him. He pushed a molecular thread of himself through the stones at his feet until it climbed its way up and through the material surrounding his prisoner. He then closed all the openings into the hall in the same manner.

Barjl swore at him.

"You cannot fight a war with me using old methods," Gryp explained as he circled his opponent. "You have come looking for the fang," he said, "And to kill me. You have failed at both but your timing could not have been better."

"Shinga will kill you," Barjl growled. "She is stronger than before." He was continuing to struggle and was confused as to why his bonds refused to yield to his own thoughts. He obviously had not yet noticed the thread.

"But not strong enough without her fang," Gryp replied.

Barjl glared.

"Enough of this," Gryp said. "I have plans for you." He moved the block with his mind, pushing it along the floor as he guided it to his chamber.

Yuje jumped to his feet in shock when Gryp entered with his strange package.

"It is alright, Yuje," he said. "This is our new subject."

He moved and changed the rock's shape so that it set Barjl down upon the table without releasing him. The prisoner was now on his back, the rock a jagged blanket securing him to the table. With one last effort, Gryp now separated the strand from himself.

"Shinga will come looking for me when I don't return," Barjl threatened.

Yuje took a sharp intake of breath.

"Shinga can't and won't come for you when I explain the situation," Gryp replied.

He removed his tunic and ran his hand over the bare skin of his left side. He willed his cells to move so that his skin opened enough for his hand. His eyes were closed as he concentrated. He could hear Yuje making some form of choking-gagging sound. His servant had become very squeamish since forgetting himself.

He reached through the opening. His fingers fell upon the lump he sought right below his heart and pressed against his stomach. When he had a firm grip, he gently pulled the lump back through the hole, which closed seamlessly the moment his hand and the object were free.

He looked down at the bloody mass that had been inside him since the moment he was aware of himself. Yuje now fully vomited in the corner. Barjl was watching closely.

Splitting open the bloody lump, Gryp removed the contents: a large, sharp fang. Wiping the blood onto his pants, the silver caught the firelight and sparkled. He held it close to Barjl's face and bent down so that he could speak to him quietly.

"When Shinga sees that her fang and your life are at stake, I am sure she will listen to almost anything I have to say," he explained.

Barjl smiled but his eyes were squinting menacingly. "That gate won't be enough to stop her with that kind of a threat," he said.

"You don't know very much about that gate," Gryp replied. After bending down to retrieve his tunic, he put it on and hid the fang in his sleeve.

Gryp left Yuje terrified in the corner and Barjl seething on the table. When he returned to the main hall, he restored the openings and the floor. There was no evidence of what had happened.

He walked confidently to the gate. When she saw he had not returned with Barjl, her eyes grew, as did her temper. Her cheeks reddened and her body began to twitch and fidget.

"Stand aside," he called to the soldiers.

They did as instructed.

He walked right up to the gate so that he could speak to Shinga quietly through the bars.

"You really haven't learned anything, have you?" he said to her as he held up his hand and let the cuff fall just enough for her and only her to see what he had.

He felt her try to manipulate the gate. Her thoughts indicated she had gone for a manoeuvre he had not expected. Rather than try to move the gate so that she could strangle him herself, she had tried to twist the bars to do it for her. It did not matter. He had known the gate would hold. If Vanagandr thought it would be enough to keep the gods out, it could certainly keep a weakened Shinga from manipulating it.

She was shocked by the metal's refusal to bend to her. He did not care. It had held just as he needed.

"You are in my way now," he said. "And you are on a planet for which most inhabitants would celebrate your death until the end of time. Stay out of my way and your lover and your fang might just end up in better condition than if you don't."

Her hatred was apparent on her face.

"You cannot defeat me as you are now," he said. "Your years and lives of training are nothing compared to what I have been taught. Stay out of my way or Barjl dies at the point of this." He twitched his wrist to indicate the fang and leaned closer still. "Good-bye, Shinga," he whispered.

Turning, he called to the guards, "No challenge tonight."

He walked back inside and left Shinga irate and stunned outside the barrier she did not even know existed.

He intended to experiment on Barjl immediately but Vanagandr had different plans. As he walked back to his room, the wolf god called out to him. Vanagandr rarely called to him so his only hesitation was caused by annoyance.

He paid little heed to the deserted archives as he walked through to the secret passage. The secret chamber itself looked no different from the last time he had been there, the etchings of planets and constellations remained in the floor. Vanagandr was pacing over them.

"What's the matter?" Gryp asked.

Vanagandr did not stop but glared at him as he paced. "There is trouble," he said.

With their last meeting, Gryp had foolishly hoped that such cryptic conversations between them were a thing of the past. Perhaps it was simply too ingrained in him.

"What trouble?" Gryp prodded.

Vanagandr stopped and sat where he was. He had just passed and was barely more than an arm's length away. His back was turned and Gryp could not see his face.

"I believe the gods have discovered where I am," he said. "I do not believe they know about my work with you. That may be our only hope."

Gryp's shock prevented him from truly comprehending the news. They had spent so many years without being discovered that it all seemed so sudden. "How?" was all he could manage to ask.

Vanagandr slowly rose to his feet and turned to face him. "A better question would be how we could not have seen this coming. Minne, Shinga, Lapidus, they have all congregated upon this planet at one time. Such things would not go unnoticed."

"How do you know they have found you?" Gryp insisted.

"I told you that Tryailla's energy demands obedience. She _was_ Order," he explained. "At my best, I am perception, though recent events show my skills are not what they had once been. I can feel the emotions of the gods at any time. I know how to read them. It is how we have avoided trouble for so long and how I was able to hide though Tryailla had been caught almost immediately."

Though Vanagandr's gift was fascinating, Gryp could not help but feel slightly annoyed. Knowing the intimate workings of the gods' plans would have been a valuable advantage.

"I must hide from the gods," Vanagandr went on. "It may be a very long time before I can re-join the fight against them. You must carry on our work in that time. You must find the stones and give them to Shinga when she has made her peace with Ashyina. I know you will never do as I have asked these many years and use her to find them. It will likely take you longer to complete the task but you must."

Gryp did not see why Shinga needed the stones. He was quite confident he could control any such weapon himself. After all, he had bested Shinga on more than one occasion with his skill and intellect. In fact, after leaving her at the gate, he began to wonder why he had ever feared her.

"Where will you go?" Gryp asked. "How will I find you if I need your help?"

Vanagandr sat upon the floor and lowered his head to look into Gryp's eyes. "You still do not understand," he said. "It is I who has needed your help and once I hide, will need your protection more than ever."

"How can I protect you from the gods?" he asked. "If I could do that, you wouldn't need to hide."

Vanagandr shook his head. "I need you to protect me from your own kind. I need you to ensure this chamber stays intact. I will be lowering my vibration below that of any living being. I will become one with the rock and the chamber but it also means I will be just as vulnerable. And ..." Vanagandr paused as though he were enduring great pain.

Gryp dared not speak lest his voice encourage Vanagandr to change his mind.

"I will need you to ensure my diane is kept safe," the wolf muttered through loosely gritted teeth. "Lowering its vibrations to that extent, if even possible, would be very dangerous for my own wellbeing."

"Where is it?" Gryp asked, looking around. Of all the requests Vanagandr had made, this was the one he was eager to grant. He could use the diane in his experiments.

"I will keep it on my form, though it will not change as the rest of me does," he said. "Ensure that it is never taken. We have never trusted each other but I have no choice now. Please."

Gryp did his best to mask his thoughts and emotions as he nodded. He had no intention of leaving the diane in the chamber.

"Thank you," Vanagandr said.

He walked to the centre of the room. Gryp had never noticed that the pattern of the constellations and planets swirled towards that spot. The engravings moved without moving.

Vanagandr sat and wrapped his tail around his feet. With a deep inhale, he pushed his head and shoulders high and pulled in his wings. His diane, the circular slab of stone covered in random lines, appeared. Gryp was unsure where it had come from but Vanagandr now held it in his upturned paw.

Gryp walked around the figure so that he could see what the wolf was doing. Vanagandr's eyes were closed. His breathing slowed. The creases of his body were becoming less pronounced. The god no longer looked like a living animal made of stone but simply a statue that had been carved centuries ago.

"Vanagandr?" he called.

There was no response.

"Vanagandr?" he yelled.

When there was still no response, he performed the best test he could imagine; he reached up and pulled upon the diane. Though Vanagandr did not move, neither did the diane. It was not a part of the statue holding it but it refused to budge. Gryp pulled harder. He tugged and wrenched it. He even climbed atop the statue and tried to kick it free. It would not move.

He did not give up and continued to abuse the statue for hours; using stones to chisel at it, his abilities to push at it with his mind, and just more tugging with his bare hands. He tried until his exhaustion overtook him. If he had any energy left, he would have punched a wall. Instead, he decided to return to his chamber to think through the current situation and his best possible next move.

* * *

Minne watched as Gryp stomped from the cave. It had taken him long enough to give up though she did not blame him. A diane was the single most important thing not just to an angel but to a fallen god.

Once she was alone, she walked up to the statue that had been Vanagandr. As she looked at his dormant state, she was filled with sadness.

"We could have worked together," she said. "Then I would not be here now. I would not be forced to do this."

She placed her hands upon the statue, one upon Vanagandr's forehead, the other upon his diane. She pulled his vibrations back to their normal level until he was looking back at her, completely confused.

"The gods have learned of my treachery and only this will save me from being my Gemini," she said.

Before he could respond, she reached into his mind with her own. Her thoughts wrapped around his memories so that she had seen everything he had ever seen or known. When her grip was firm enough, she changed and shaped his memories. She could have destroyed them entirely just as she had done to so many after she had first been taken captive. That was not what she wanted here. Her emotions churned and burned, torturing her even as she refused to indulge her desire for open defiance. The gods demanded she subdue him, and she would.

She pulled the memories from him that were not what she wanted. Those that remained were reshaped. He would not remember his true identity but he would remember the war against the Thinkers. To please the gods, she ensured that he remembered his work with Gryp as if it were deceit that was intended to help the gods find the stones.

Sculpting his memories to her will was much more difficult than simply erasing them like she had done with the angels. Extra care was needed if she was to prevent the new ones from collapsing. Vanagandr had so much more knowledge and such a long life in comparison. Her efforts became physically sickening but she continued until every last detail was exactly where she wanted it and exactly where it needed to be to fool the gods.

He stared at her. His brow furrowed.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"The Great Woden has a new task for you," she said. "You are to remain here during our war against the treacherous and vile Thinkers."

"But I want to fight," he growled.

"Are you defying your god?" she demanded, a threat in her voice.

He lowered his head and stared at her feet. "I serve Woden," he said.

"You must remain here until Woden has called for you," she repeated. "Hail and honour to Woden."

"Hail and honour to Woden," Vanagandr repeated.

Satisfied with her work, she watched as he returned his vibrations to those of a statue once more.

Now it was time for the warning.

Pushing the stone up beneath the statue, she formed it with her mind into a platform. Upon it, she inscribed a message in the same script that Gryp had invented for his book, the one she had seen in Vanagandr's memories.

"To honour for all eternity those who brought justice to the treacherous Tryailla," she wrote.

She had no doubt that Gryp would know what it meant.

# Chapter 19

Shinga had been caught so flat footed that she was forced to comply with Gryp's order. She retreated for the time being but had no intention of leaving the situation as it was. As she walked through the Quarters, trying to find a deserted location where she could teleport, she passed a group of soldiers who were beating up an elderly couple.

She stopped and looked around. Though she saw no one, she knew that when conflict happened in the Quarters, the residence listened from behind the safety of their doors. This was not usual trouble. She had never seen soldiers attack the elderly.

"Shinga, save me!" the old man cried as he attempted to protect his head from the worst of their kicks.

For a moment, she thought he really had been calling out to her. She had even taken a half step forward to answer his plea but Barjl's plight came back to her and she did not dare act. It was her hesitation that made her realize who the man was. He was one of the Shinga cult. He had embraced the stories of what she had done and worshipped her for such atrocities.

Now that Gryp was in power, it was obvious he refused to take the same benign approach to their counter culture. He was likely too afraid of her having followers.

She watched the couple receiving blow after blow with no mercy. She considered her options. Barjl's life was too important to jeopardize by acting rashly. He was the only one still alive who supported the real her. The memory of the Cats' recent betrayal and how that had led to this horrible moment stung at her guts.

At the same time, she could not stand by and watch another be unjustly harmed due to the lies of Gryp and Ashyina, even if their rebellion was misguided.

She evaluated the situation carefully. There were four soldiers. They were next to a stone wall. No one could see what was happening but they could hear. She had to be subtle.

With acute focus, she lifted the stone of the road just enough that two of the soldiers tripped. Guiding a gust of wind, she forced them hard into the other two who were nearest the wall. As she had hoped, three of them hit their heads hard and crumpled. Unfortunately, the fourth had just been knocked off balance after being hit by the weight of one of his comrades. Without waiting to see what he would do, she pulled a chunk of stone from the roof of the nearest building and let it fall on his head. The changes were so subtle that she doubted Gryp would ever hear about it. The soldiers would think they were clumsy and likely be too embarrassed to tell anyone. Those in the houses would never have been sure exactly what had happened.

It took several moments for the cowering victims to realize the abuse had stopped and the soldiers were unconscious. Looking up, they saw the plain, youthful form of Shinga's disguise and were confused.

She said nothing.

They looked around. When they realized no one else was coming, they crawled out from the pile of soldiers' bodies and ran. They had just turned the corner when Shinga heard the first of the soldiers stirring.

She nearly teleported away from Dominans altogether but the altercation had made her realize that she was not as weak and helpless as Poria. She was not able to fool Gryp but she was far from defenceless, even if the gate had failed to yield to her. With the fang in Gryp's possession, he could easily kill Barjl but he may already have done that regardless. Waiting gave the illusion that his chances were better than they were. If she had waited any longer with the elderly couple, they would have been killed. By acting, she had saved them. She admonished herself for so easily being made to feel powerless by Gryp. She was Shinga. Gryp had hidden from her. He was the one who feared her. She refused to fear him again.

In the next moment, she was in her wolf form, galloping back to the gates, intending to take care of those inside in a similar fashion to the pile of soldiers she had just stopped. Once the bulk of the sentries had been removed, the rest would get the terror of their lives.

* * *

Yuje remained pressed against the corner as Iogrevard stood over his victim. When his master had returned, his new subject's form had changed to that of a large, dark-haired man.

Yuje's stomach dropped and flipped as he wondered if the soldiers had captured a Cat spy. The idea of a war with Tryailla was not one he wished to entertain. Though the rest of the soldiers were eager to be of some use, he was not so useful and not so stupid. Despite their training, they were at an extreme disadvantage.

Iogrevard's new captive was not oblivious to the extent of his captor's menace. In fact, he seemed to know more than Yuje. He looked at Iogrevard with a deep hatred.

"You will be torn apart and that fang stabbed through your mind," the man shouted as Iogrevard changed the form of rock acting as restraints to better expose the man's chest.

Yuje pulled closer to the wall. He had never seen anyone perform such magic. The Cats were known to have similar skills but he had never witnessed them. Perhaps that was why this new Alpha was so convinced that he could defeat Shinga and all of Tryailla.

Iogrevard ran his hand over the man's skin. His other was clutching the silver fang he had ripped from his own body.

The captive continued to rant. "I'm surprised you and Avorlig weren't better friends," he said. "You both have a deranged hatred of your own kind."

Iogrevard stopped moving. There was a trail of blood upon the captive's stomach and Yuje only then recognized the bright red spiral.

"You always were stupid," Iogrevard said. "I'm trying to save our kind. If I have to sacrifice a few of you to do it, I will."

The captive spit in his face. "Your nothing but a self-serving traitor, Gryp," he seethed.

That name was familiar. Yuje's blood stopped flowing as he realized where he had heard it. The new Alpha was Gryp? All at once, the diabolical man made sense.

The face of the captive was familiar too. Yuje did not know him but he felt he should. As he tried to search for the answers in his own mind, his head split with excruciating pain. If he had not already been pressed into the corner, he would have fallen. As it was, his wobble was small and went unnoticed.

He gave up trying to remember so as not to intensify the pain. Looking up at the two again, he saw that Gryp had his hand pressed over the centre of the spiral.

"Perhaps as my servant you will learn that I am telling you the truth," he said.

"Never," the captive said through his teeth.

Gryp bent low to look into the man's eyes. "You don't get to choose."

Then he closed his eyes and concentrated in the same way Yuje had witnessed many times before. At first, nothing appeared to happen. Then, the prisoner began to writhe as much as his restraints would allow. He breathed heavily through clenched teeth several times before he screamed out.

Gryp continued to focus unfalteringly. The man continued to scream.

Yuje covered his ears and closed his eyes, hoping it would end, hoping Gryp would not turn on him next.

It had never taken this long with the orphans. Perhaps it just took longer for a full grown man to die. After a minute more, the screams became quieter. Yuje looked and tentatively lowered his hands.

Gryp was standing upright and looking down at his latest victim. The man's skin was pale, his body no longer writhing. At first, Yuje was convinced the man had simply died outright, but then he saw Gryp's face. Far from the usual defeat, he looked triumphant. The faintest smile curved his lips as he looked down at his work.

Yuje looked again at the man. He was not dead. He was breathing and his eyes were open, staring blankly.

Gryp removed the stone from around the man's body.

"Sit up," he instructed.

The man did.

"Who is your master?" he asked.

"You are my master," the man said.

"Do you despise me?"

The man hesitated. "Yes," he said finally.

Gryp tilted his head with this answer and asked, "Will you do everything that I demand?"

"Yes," the man said.

The Alpha righted his head and smiled. "It seems we have some work to do but this is definitely progress," he said. "I have plans for you."

# Chapter 20

As Shinga turned the last corner before the gates, she stopped and walked slowly backwards until her body was mostly hidden by a building. There was a Tryaillan pod in the square.

She watched and listened.

There was no one in view but she could hear shouting from within the perimeter of the gates. She was too far away to make out the words. She could not even tell if it was shouting of anger or joy.

A moment later, several soldiers and a woman dressed in clothes too delicate and colourful to be from Dominans emerged from the compound. The woman shivered as her pastel chiffons wafted about her in the glacial wind.

She could hear them now that they were no longer behind the walls.

"Tryaillans are nothing but liars," one soldier yelled to the group.

"We'll teach them to hold a Wolf child hostage," another bellowed.

"I'll take Shinga's head myself," another boasted.

Now Shinga understood. They were a war party. As she realized this meant a Tryaillan was a traitor, she felt warm inside. Perhaps it was finally their turn to feel betrayal. Gryp would not be the only one receiving justice.

Though she had never been superstitious—she had seen too much of the universe to believe in such fantasies—she took this display as a good omen.

The group of soldiers climbed into the pod with the woman. The opening closed behind them. A moment later, the vessel vanished.

Shinga emerged from her hiding place and trotted up to the edge of the wall next to the gates. She peered around the corner.

The war party was indeed a good omen. It appeared most of those who had gone with the woman had been amongst the sentries. Gryp appeared to have a discipline issue with his bored troops.

She would not even need to be quiet with so few on hand. She walked out to the middle of the square, where she would be highly visible, and sat facing the gate.

It did not take long for one of the guards at the top of the wall to notice. He signaled to the man further down the wall from him and pointed. With this, the others within her view also seemed to notice her. They began to murmur to each other, none of them having the courage to yell out to her. She knew these Wolves. They were wondering who or what she was. No one willingly reverted especially when alone at night. Her brazen act frightened them. She could smell the sweat of their fear.

Fear made mistakes. She liked that.

From one of them, there was a twitch of movement, followed by a faint whistle of air. She teleported position a few stones to her right just as a spear bounced off where she had been sitting.

There were gasps. The murmurs were faster and the soldiers' smells stronger. Just as she had hoped, they now seemed to comprehend what they might be facing. There would be no legends of what happened because she intended to ensure not one of the witnesses remained alive.

In full view of the soldiers, she shifted until she was in her human form.

There was a scream, more murmuring, more sweat, and now some urine.

The lies of old had worked so thoroughly to frighten her enemies that Shinga began to wonder if it would be as difficult as she had thought. Perhaps she and Barjl should not have tried surprises but simply walked right up to the gate and announced themselves.

Spears began flying as the more stable of courage began their attack. She did not waste her time simply dodging them. She made her next move.

Unfortunately, her attempt to teleport to the walls did not work. The moment her focus was at the point to make the jump, it simply disintegrated. She tried to go into the compound itself, the same thing happened. Very quickly she recognized the similarity to the Tryaillan barrier, with which she had become very familiar during her captivity.

Unlike on Tryailla, this barrier had a physical counterpart. Her previous inability to bend the bars now made sense. She tried to feel for a weakness. There were none, but as she surveyed it, she noticed the tiniest variation. It was a vibration she recognized from the man she wanted to kill. Now that she knew what she was dealing with, she also knew what to do.

She teleported to the gate itself and placed her hands upon it. She pushed a fibre of her being through the material. It welcomed her like no one else had except for Barjl. In fact, she had never had an easier time putting her mind into anything.

She tried to dislodge the thread. It fell away easily as if the stone and the barrier were disgusted now that they could lap at her presence. She felt stronger than before but with this came slight disorientation. As a spear nearly grazed her back, she tried to remember what she was doing. Why was she there?

Killing Gryp. As she remembered, she was filled with giddy hatred. She was wasting time. There was too much fun to be had.

She shifted the metal bars to create a wide enough opening to climb through. Once inside, she attacked without mercy.

Using the rock beneath them, she shifted it to impale a soldier running towards her. Then she reverted to pounce on another and rip out his throat. She continued her assault until the courtyard fell to the silence of death. She remained still, listening and smelling for any hidden foes. There was a trail of fear in the air and its direction led into the main hall. The door was open.

She followed, running straight across the courtyard. As she passed through the pillars in semi-circular formation, she felt stronger and more confident than ever. Gryp would die. She would strengthen her powers with his blood.

* * *

Minyera awoke abruptly. Fagan was already running to the door. The mages had called to them. She could feel Nira's fear. Within a second she was running down the long hallways with Fagan, desperately trying to get to the Great Hall.

They could hear the commotion as they approached, the sound of metal hitting stone and shouts of anger and of fear. She stopped the moment she entered the hall and filled with more anger and hatred than she thought possible when she saw what was happening in her home.

Wolf soldiers were attacking her people. Nira was huddled against the carvings of the fireplace as she held Mincari in her arms. At her feet Alder lay unconscious. Kneeling in front of his body were Entien and Andred, doing their best to hold off their attackers with small, weak barriers and directed energies of their elements. Andred was successfully sending fireballs at those in the front, but the attackers simply blocked with their shields. Entien would try to throw them off balance with wind gusts but there would always be more who had not been knocked over to take the place of those who had. The most enraging of all were the bodies of innocent Tryaillans in the hall. If it had been day, there would have been many more.

Fagan was already attempting to join Entien and Andred to fortify their energy. When Minyera saw Shiatha amongst the Wolves, helping them harm her own people, she knew it would not be necessary.

Her anger, hatred and betrayal erupted from her. "Stop!" she yelled. Her negative energies carried the word and amplified it so that all those in the room were assaulted by the verbal blow. The soldiers, Shiatha, the mages, and Fagan froze. In their shock, Minyera thought of the weapons. The soldiers tried desperately to clutch to them even as they were ripped from their hands by the invisible force. She turned the weapons on the attackers; spears, swords and knives now pressed against their throats.

"How dare you attack us like this," she yelled. "You have no thought, Shiatha."

Shiatha's faced reddened and her eyes narrowed. "How dare you!" she said. "Mincari is _my_ child and he belongs with his parents."

"And he could have had them here," Minyera replied.

The spear she held to Shiatha's throat pressed harder into the woman's skin. She could feel Mincari reaching out to both of them, trying to diffuse the situation. It was beyond even his skill.

"You are monsters," Shiatha yelled. "Tryailla is built upon a lie. I've been to Dominans. They've told me the truth about your real allies."

" _I_ told you the truth, a very dangerous one at that and _I_ dared to trust _you_ ," Minyera yelled back.

She could feel the resistance of the soldiers growing. Being distracted with conversation was not helping the situation. Looking at the blood and the bodies she made the difficult choice. Every last soldier was impaled and crumpled to the floor.

"NO!" Shiatha screamed as she saw them fall.

There was a gasp from Nira and she could feel a wave of concern and shock from Fagan. Minyera was sadly aware that she had likely just executed Mincari's father. Her hands shook but she kept the spear upon Shiatha.

"Mincari loves you," Minyera said. "You are his mother and even if I wanted to, he would not let me harm you."

Shiatha's eyes widened but the spear's precarious location prevented her from moving.

"Unfortunately, there is a very serious problem," she continued. "You know of the truth even if you refuse to believe it. Your first test with that knowledge has proven you cannot be trusted. I cannot have you upon Tryailla but I cannot let you go."

Minyera walked over to Fagan and the mages who were now climbing to their feet. She went to Nira and gestured for Mincari. As the small boy was placed into her arms, he looked into her eyes the way only he could. He penetrated to her core.

"I know you can see the truth," she whispered to him. "I know you can see what is in my mind. Look at what we are facing. Know what I know."

His eyes widened further and she saw a comprehension in them that even a full adult would struggle to grasp. She visualized everything she knew about the gods, more than she knew he had ever picked up from her previously. She imagined what could happen if the barrier fell. She tried to illustrate what could happen if Shiatha was allowed to betray again.

"I leave the decision to you," she said.

The boy turned his head, which wobbled slightly with the movement. He looked at his mother. Minyera could feel him reaching out to her. There was a seeking quality to it and Minyera understood. He was searching for goodness and hope, something that could help her realize what she had done.

A moment later, Minyera saw he had gotten his answer. Without her will, the spear stabbed Shiatha. Her body crumpled just like those of the soldiers.

Minyera's face grew wet. When she looked into Mincari's face, she saw that he was more pained than she. He did not wail but his eyes were wet. She could feel how fragile his heart had become.

"I am so sorry," she whispered to him.

She felt him reach out to her with his thoughts, to comfort her. She had never heard of a mage with such skill, not even the one who had in reality been a Thinker. He had had to make the worst choice of all and there he, a baby not even old enough to support the weight of his own body, was supporting her.

The barrier would remain strong. Tryailla was safe but Minyera's heart would never heal again.

# Chapter 21

When Shinga entered the hall, she stopped.

It was deserted but far from silent. Shouts and footsteps echoed from the corridors. The sounds bounced off the stone walls and intermixed so that she could not tell which direction she should be focused upon first.

Then she heard his voice, ordering his underlings to stay away. Her heart raced with anticipation at the same time her cheeks went cold. Was Barjl still alive?

That question was answered for her when Barjl entered the room with Gryp at his back. Though she wanted to run to him and ensure he was alright, the entire situation was far too wrong to trust. Her hands clenched and relaxed, the sensation bringing her attention to Barjl's hand. He held the fang.

He stopped and side-stepped so that Gryp could enter the room.

"To be honest," Gryp said, sickeningly smug, "I was surprised you gave me any time at all. Thanks to you, this has all worked in my favour."

"What are you talking about?" she said.

Looking at Barjl, she wondered why he was not using the opportunity of both being at Gryp's back and having the fang, to kill their enemy. She tried to give him this suggestion without words. His face remained passive and she realized that something was seriously wrong.

"What did you do to him?" she growled.

Gryp did not bother to explain. "I think I've finally managed to surpass anything you are capable of," he said. "You can't even defeat me, how could you possibly be a challenge to the gods?"

The mention of gods pulled at her as she recalled what Tryailla had begged her to believe. No. She had been lying to betray her. Gryp had been there. He was trying to throw her off.

"I think it is time that task went to me," he said. "Barjl, dispose of this problem."

Barjl ran forward and raised the fang. Though Shinga would not fight back, she refused to be murdered and jumped out of the way.

"Barjl!" she barked at him.

He lunged again. Again, she dodged.

"Barjl!" she yelled once more but her tone was much weaker.

His attacks, though not at the peak of Barjl's talent, did not cease. All she could do was dodge, dodge, and dodge again. There was no escaping without leaving Barjl and the fang behind, giving Gryp everything. She could not be defeated. She could not leave Barjl.

Gryp remained where he was, watching the display. His arms were crossed and a wide smile spread across his face. She lunged at him.

He was not as unskilled as their previous encounters. When he dodged her easily and without surprise, she swore at herself for forgetting how he had moved up the Wolf ranks to Alpha. Her memories tainted her judgement. She could not face both Barjl and Gryp and win. Barjl was not the problem. She continued her attacks against Gryp, who seemed annoyed by her strategy.

She reverted so that she could have greater speed. It did not help. She ran as fast as she could, trying to take bites out of Gryp as she sped by but he was too quick and seemed able to read her intentions. She decided to try to outwit her own strategy. The moment she would have gone for Gryp, she lunged for Barjl instead, trying to reach his wrist so that she could at least free the fang.

Searing pain shot through her arm, weakening her entire body. She collapsed to the floor as her head began to shriek in the same pain she had felt earlier that night. The image of the naked woman flashed in her mind briefly as did those of many others, including winged creatures, and places she did not recognize. The pain increased. Her body could not contain it, even if she did still have a body. She had to force it back. It was the only way she would not be destroyed entirely.

A tiny spec of focus floated in her mind. She held onto it with everything she could muster. She forced it to become bigger, to expand to her head, then her body, and her limbs. She focused intently upon her form until she knelt wheezing on the floor, feeling mostly whole.

Looking down, she saw her arm was bleeding from the cut she had received. A swish of movement above her barely registered in her conscious mind before she had already responded. She grabbed the hand, and with strength even she did not know she possessed, wrenched the wrist into a painful position so that the fang missed her face and landed deeply below the man's ribs.

She looked up, her mind clearing, and was horrified to see Barjl's vacant eyes looking down at her. His body collapsed, hitting her and knocking her over on its way to the floor.

"Barjl?" she called as she scrambled back to her knees.

She turned him over. His eyes were vacant and his body remained still. She pulled him close to her chest in the best hug she could manage. She cried as her fingers crawled their way down his chest to the fang. It had done its job too well. Her fingers weakened and trembled as she touched it, hindering her efforts to remove it. Looking up, she intended to evaluate her next foe, mourning Barjl would have to wait, but Gryp was gone. He must have known that without Barjl and without the fang, his boasting had little backing.

She had been denied her justice once more and forced to endure another massive loss. She heard the shouts of the soldiers again. They were resuming their pursuit. They would soon be in the hall.

Limply, she pulled the fang free, feeling the rest of her strength leave her once it was loose in her hand. Her exhaustion was strong but getting the fang to safety was too important.

With a final kiss on his lips, she left Barjl's body. It was just flesh now.

She ran. She ran back through the doors, back through the blood-stained courtyard. She ran until she was outside the barrier where she left Dominans altogether.

# Chapter 22

Gryp stood before the statue of Vanagandr and considered his options. The message was clear enough. The gods knew what he was planning. They had known what Vanagandr had attempted. What he was unsure of was why they would leave such a message and not kill him outright. He had been outside the barriers so many times. For some reason they wanted him to know and they wanted him to continue.

He looked down at his book. When he had witnessed Shinga's near disintegration, when he had felt her energy, he knew the truth that Vanagandr had kept from him. He knew at that moment that standing against her was not possible, at least not yet. He fled, intending to hide the book for the next life when it would be safe to retrieve it. Vanagandr's tomb did not seem so safe now.

Lifting his chin, he regarded the diane sitting so benignly in Vanagandr's paw. The gods had even left that behind. Did they want him to have it one day? What were their plans for him? Could he outwit them? The Alpha had believed he could, even when she knew that he had been too stupid to outwit Vanagandr. She had believed in him. Perhaps for now, he would play the gods' game.

He knelt before the statue and set the book aside. Placing his hands upon the stone floor, he moved it out of the way until there was a deep hole just the right size. He set the book inside and sealed the floor over it.

When he had learned enough, he would be able to defeat them all but that would not happen in this life. The rushing water of the underground drainage called to him. Vanagandr had said that hallway led to the channels in case escape was needed. It was now. Had the wolf known what form of escape when he had said it? Gryp was not sure but it did not matter.

Slowly, he stood, stared into the blank stone eyes of his former guardian, and turned to walk to the river. It would be painful but it would be only a minute.

* * *

When the Alpha did not return, Yuje began to wonder what had happened. There had been shouts and yells from soldiers all through the compound. He dared not leave the chamber but as the night wore on and turned into the next day, as even that day began to wane, he wonder if he should stay. It was during this turmoil that three soldiers came into the room.

"He is still here, General," one of them called back into the hall.

A moment later, the Alpha's second-in-command walked in and glared at him.

"You turned out to be a bad omen after all," he growled. "Get him out of here," he barked. "I don't want him in the compound ever again."

He did not resist as two soldiers grabbed him roughly by each arm and dragged him from the room. It had been so many days since he had been outside that the daylight stung his eyes. He shivered against the cold for which he was poorly dressed.

He was shoved through the gate. They slammed it shut behind him. He had no intention of returning.

As he tried to stand, he looked up to see a tall, dark-haired woman standing before him. She was naked. His last conscious memory was of completely consuming terror.

* * *

Minyera nearly wept as she pulled the hood over Nira's features. The woman's face was cast in shadow, invisible to the outside world. She turned and looked at the other mages.

They were in the subterranean chamber performing a ritual she had never wanted. She walked to Fagan who stood in the spirit mages position, holding Mincari.

Though the deaths from the attack had been far fewer than they could have been, the mages had made it clear to her that Shiatha had explained their importance and their appearances to the soldiers. They had been targeted and the others who had been harmed had simply come at the wrong time.

Since that night, she had sent pods to Dominans and to Tatsu to check on the state of affairs, to learn if the disappearance of the soldiers boded ill for their relations. It very much did.

On both planets, her scouts had been discovered and barely escaped but not before they had learned much of what had transpired. She learned of the battle on Dominans that had happened that same night and of the rumours that Shinga had killed the Alpha. Their new Alpha was one of the generals and he had apparently been a very strong supporter of Iogrevard's views. Both Dragons and Wolves now worked feverishly upon technology and training so that they could one day take their war to Tryailla.

She looked down at Mincari. He had been wrapped in a specially made blanket with a hood. She repeated the procedure with the small child so that his features too were obscured. He would never have a normal childhood.

"Our kind has taught us time and time again that we cannot trust each other," she said. "It is an unfortunate truth; one I wish had no place in our reality. With the inevitable wars that will come to our home, we cannot risk giving any advantage to our enemies as we have done in the past. No person but for Tryailla and her consort will ever again know the identities of the mages. You are too important to our survival."

She stroked the hood of Mincari and he reached a fat, little finger up to her hand. He happily grasped her index finger. If there had been any Thinker reincarnated recently, she was sure it was now in this child. If she had not met Shinga, Barjl, and Gryp in this life, she would have worried. As it was, she was comforted. Perhaps one day she would learn of the ally they truly had.

* * *

Even weeks later the confrontation played over and over and over again in Shinga's mind. She wondered what she could do differently next time. She could not keep failing. Her heart could not handle it.

Gryp's deceit had taught her one thing. Subversion led to pawns to use. He had worked his way through the ranks, hiding his identity, all to gain power and access. Both had obviously given him an advantage. She would never be able to gather supporters if she revealed her true identity. That would result in immediate war. She needed a time of quiet manipulation to get any further.

Gryp appeared to have learned much during his time as Alpha. He had even learned how to turn Barjl into his puppet. She needed to learn what he knew. There were archives in the Wolf compound. Perhaps it had been from there that Gryp had learned so much. She knew he had never been creative enough to figure out such things on his own.

She wondered if he would ever try the same trick again of becoming the Alpha. She shook her head at her own silliness. He had been revealed very quickly in his plan and his escape after Barjl fell showed he was still afraid of taking her on alone. He would not risk running into her again.

She wondered if Barjl's fate could have been different if she had not run from her nightmares as Poria. She wondered if she could have snuck her way through the ranks without Gryp knowing, if she could have killed him had she only remembered before others discovered her. She wondered if there was any little thing she could have done that would have changed it all.

When she had exhausted torturing her thoughts with strategic what-ifs, she looked at the fang. She had refused to look at it in the days immediately following Barjl's death. It had been too painful a reminder.

Now that she was considering it once more, she looked at her arm. It had still refused to scab over though it had finally stopped bleeding. It seemed intent upon healing in its own time no matter what effort she put into speeding the process.

She considered what had happened when it had cut her. When the stones had first come to her, she had had pleasurable responses to them. She had enjoyed their song and felt comforted by it. As she held the fang, that same feeling returned. When it had cut her, there had been no pleasure to what had filled her.

She thought of Barjl and even of Kiran, how easily the fang had felled them without her intent. Then she wondered why it had not done so to her.

It was one night when she sat by the fire in her small cave that these thoughts became too much for her. Speculation was no longer enough. She turned her palm over and pricked it with the very tip of the fang.

Instantly she returned to the sensation that her body could not contain her. This time, nothing flashed through her mind except two faces. One was like Barjl's somehow but different. She could not place the variations to the features but it was not exactly him. The other was Ashyina. The fake Barjl's face faded, leaving only Ashyina surrounded by blackness.

The nothingness grew and threatened to encase her. The terror rose and she fought it. She tried to pull herself back but struggled against the darkness. She fought harder, focusing upon her limbs in the same ritualistic succession as she had when Barjl had cut her arm. Slowly, she began to succeed; her head, her body, then her limbs down to her fingers and toes.

Somewhere inside she knew more than she could remember. Despite her form being back to whole, she felt as though part of her consciousness now remained trapped in that darkness. Her goals were not nearly as clear, her mind struggled to focus, yet she knew more. One moment she felt euphoria; the next intense anger. Her emotions changed faster than she could comprehend them. Something about the stones brought them out but none of that explained why they had killed Barjl and Kiran. She dared not go any further.

If two stones could bring this much from her, she knew more than ever that she needed to find the others. She knew there were more. The two she had were not enough. She would find the others and that day, she would know the truth.

# Epilogue

My flirtation with rebellion was short lived. It was martyred by my fear. I had no choice but to betray Vanagandr once I learned of Lilith's unwilling spy. I saved my life and in so doing delayed my freedom and that of all those around me. I was a fool but had been cowed by having so much taken from me. It would not be until millennia later that She showed me how much I should have tried.

###

# About the Author

Tara Kristen Young is a computing archaeologist who spends many of her days helping with the investigations of hunter-gatherer cemeteries in Russia and Japan. Other days are spent twisting her archaeological knowledge into new forms to create fantasy stories. Time not spent researching or writing is joyfully filled with the company of her daughter and husband.

# Other Works by Tara K. Young

Shauna's Inheritance (a short story, available now at Smashwords)

Devil's Sacrifice (a short story, available now at Smashwords)

The Monstrous Hunt (novella, available for free on Smashwords and on myriadmaia.com)

Gods' Masks, Book 1 of the Moirean Tapestry (available now at Smashwords)

The Whispering War, Book 2 of the Moirean Tapestry (available now at Smashwords)

# Connect with Tara Online

Twitter http://twitter.com/TYoungWrite#

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Website http://www.myriadmaia.com
