Disclaimer: I own neither the WITCH cartoon-show nor Jackie Chan Adventures; they are the property of their respective creators, writers, and producers.

A/N: Hello again, dear readers. So… chapter 30. You know, I just realized that it's been more than three years since I first began writing this story now that I get a look into it. That's… a pretty long time. I never thought I'd be putting so much time and effort into this story when I began writing it, yet here we are; with the three-part finale of this 'first season' just around the corner, and a story that is, at the moment of this writing, more than six-hundred-thousand words long. So… thank you, people reading this. I couldn't have reached this far without your support. Anyways, and leaving all this sentimentality aside, on with the chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

Guardians, Wizards and Kung-Fu Fighters

Episode Thirty

Choices

There is a moment in the life of every person in which they find themselves at a crossroads. A moment in which they have to choose between path A or B, and choosing one will close the other. No second chances, no opportunity to repent and take the other path once you don't find the one you took to your liking.

A woman that has to choose between staying at a job that provides her with enough income to live but that makes her miserable; or spend all her savings into opening a business of her own that may or may not be profitable. A man that has to choose between following his dreams and moving to another country with no chance of coming back to his homeland, or renounce his dreams but stay with the people he loves. A couple that has to choose between starting a family or not. A wartime general that has to choose between sending one of his battalions to certain doom in order to achieve a decisive victory, or save as many lives as he can even if it means losing and the possibility of more years of war to come.

Everyone has their crossroads. Everyone chooses. Everyone faces the consequences, good and bad.

In a world called Meridian lived a man called Julian, son of Jon. During the years of civil war that followed the bloody ascension to the throne of Prince Phobos Escanor, he came to be known far and wide as 'The Rebel' for being one of the founders and leader of the Rebellion that rose up in arms against the Prince.

One day, he walked into a town called Carhaiz. And found himself at a crossroads…

Meridian's Outer Rim; Carhaiz

Around three years ago

Night had fallen over Carhaiz a couple of hours ago. The faint light provided by candles and burning hearths could be seen glowing through the windows of nearly every house in the town. Even the small battalion of rebels stationed outside of Carhaiz could see them perfectly, flickering in the distance. Light of Meridian… how much did those lights mock them.

"When's Julian coming back?" a rebel inquired.

"Patience," another said.

"Enough with the patience!" said a third one. "We've been standing here for hours! My arse is freezing!"

"Oh, quit your nagging!" a fourth one replied.

"Quit your nagging!" the other rebel retorted back.

"There he is;" a fourth rebel said then and pointed ahead, making his companions to shut their mouths immediately.

Slowly, a figure came out of Carhaiz and approached the awaiting rebels. A middle-aged, tall and well-built man of white skin and dark brown eyes. His equally brown hair fell graciously from his head, and a well-kept brown goatee adorned his chin. He was dressed in a plain pair of dark boots and pants and a white shirt, and he had a coat of a light shade of brown over it all.

"Julian," one of the rebels greeted the newcomer as he handed him a sheathed longsword. "How did it go?"

The leader of the Rebellion sighed as he took the sheathed blade. He evaded the questioning gazes of his fellow rebels for a few moments before he looked directly at them and decided that there was no point in keeping the harsh truth from them.

"They…" Julian began. "They have decided to… decline our offer."

A collective groan came from the rebels, only to quickly evolve first into a collective yell, then into many different voices yelling different things at different degrees of loudness.

"Why?!" one rebel was heard.

"Do they really wish to live as the Usurper's pets so much?!" a second shrieked.

"Traitors, the lot of them!" another shouted in anger.

"Silence! Silence!" a fourth spoke, trying to calm the crowd down. "Let Julian speak!"

Julian sighed again, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. He tapped the ground a couple of times using his sheathed longsword as if it was a mere cane. "I spoke with their leaders," he explained. "They told me that, albeit they don't seek any conflict with the rebels neither do they wish us any ill, they don't seek any with the Prince's court either. They desire to remain neutral through the war."

The crowd erupted into yells and jeers again upon hearing those words. "Neutral?! Lurden spit!" Julian heard one voice rise over the others momentarily. "As if we didn't know who built this town! They're but the playthings of the nobles!"

"Calm down, calm down!" someone tried to pacify the rebels. "It's just one town! We aren't gonna lose the war for one town!"

"But what if other towns like this are built around the outer rim?!" another rebel asked, sounding far more worried. "What if they decide to play 'neutral' too?! We'll be overwhelmed!"

Julian couldn't avoid agreeing with them in that regard. Meridian had lived through more than a decade of war between the rebels and the forces of the Prince, and in all those years the Rebellion had received most of its support from the villages and towns of the kingdom's outer rim. And he wasn't just referring to things like supplies or shelter, no. The majority of the Rebellion's troops came from that part of the realm too, mostly composed of commoners that wanted to claim justice for what the Prince and his minions had unfairly taken from them, or some Guard-deserters that were deployed around those areas at the time of the Prince's coup and that had decided (probably out of a genuine sense of loyalty towards the late Queen Weira) that it was better to die standing than living on their knees. True, there also were many rebel sympathizers at the Capital and the villages and small towns on its vicinity, but it wasn't comparable.

And then there was the mid rim, under the nobility's control. The mid rim, from where the Rebellion hadn't been able to gather any support in years. Standing where he was now, knowing what he knew now, and having spent the last few hours within Carhaiz; Julian had come to completely understand why.

These people were happy. These people had food on their table, roofs over their heads, warm beds to sleep in. Why would any man or woman that had all those things risk them in order to fight a war they weren't sure they could win? To fight a war that they could die in?

It was only now that Julian truly understood that the true threat to the Rebellion's efforts wasn't the Prince himself, but his little creatures, his little pawns of the nobility, instead.

Yes, he could almost see it. Dozens of towns like this one, all built across the outer rim, full of happy people. All unaware of the strings the nobility played them with. All perfectly willing to live under the Prince's rule if that meant living peaceful lives. That would deliver a blow to the Rebellion greater than any execution or raid by the Prince's forces could ever do. That was the reason they had come here in the first place. To offer the people of the newly founded Carhaiz the opportunity to join the Rebellion out of their own accord, and therefore turn the nobility's scheme back against them. How many others would have joined them if the people the nobles had treated the best had decided to rise against the Prince's court? But that hadn't happened. Light of Meridian, it hadn't happened.

Julian turned his back at his fellow rebels, who continued to discuss with one another, and stared at Carhaiz once again. This little, plain town, with nothing remarkable about itself or its inhabitants; and it was the greatest threat the Rebellion had encountered. What could he do? What should he do? How could he tackle this problem?

"What if we destroy it?!" he heard a voice over the others, as if someone had been able to read the questions that were going through his mind and gave the obvious answer.

Julian's eyes widened and he turned on his heels as fast as he could. "What?!" he bellowed, making the rest of the rebels to shut their mouths instantaneously. "Who said that?!"

Slowly, a rebel walked away from the rest of the battalion and approached Julian, standing just a few meters away from him. It was a human, a short, middle-aged man, with short graying black hair and (in contrast) quite the long graying black beard. Big gut, too; but his shoulders were broad and his arms looked strong. He must had been a blacksmith, before… everything. Aside from that, he was just a normal man, nothing else remarkable about him.

"I'm just sayin';" the man said, puffing his chest. "No Carhaiz means… no problem. They don't know we're here, they think it's just you;" he told Julian. "We don't need to harm anyone. We'd be… just some brigands, lookin' for loot and food, nothing else. These're difficult times. People're hungry and angry. So hungry and angry that… attacking a whole town sounds… possible. It'd work. We destroy the town, then these people're… desperate enough to join us. We'd be the ones who saved 'em, even. And the Usurper and his dogs lose their 'weapon'."

"Are you insane?!" a lone rebel bellowed, but Julian silenced him and whoever that may had joined him by rising his right arm. He turned around one last time and found himself taking one last look at the flickering lights of Carhaiz. Some of them had gone out.

Sleeping, Julian thought; unaware.

"Julian?" the rebel that had handed him his blade asked with a mix of disbelief and worry. "You can't seriously be thinking..."

"Quiet," the rebel leader silenced him.

It could work. As long as the people of Carhaiz ignored that they were rebels and they were spared… Light of Meridian, it could work. That was the worst part of it all. That it could… no, it would work. What other option did he have? Let the plan of the Prince's servants to prosper and see everything the rebels had sacrificed and every victory they had achieved in more than ten years be rendered meaningless? His mind traveled back to the Infinite City, to his son. His son, who had known nothing but the Usurper's tyranny for almost his entire life. His son, who had never had the chance to run carefree and laugh in the streets of some city or look at the sky while lying over the fields of fresh grass. He then thought about his beloved, his wise Mage.

'There are times in which a lesser act of evil must be committed in order to stop a greater evil, or to achieve a greater good;' she had told him once. 'Some have to dirty their hands… so others retain theirs clean.'

His hand grasped the pommel of his sword. He felt every pair of eyes of the rebels nailed on him. They were waiting for him to speak. Why wouldn't they? He was their leader. He had to give the command. It was his decision.

He unsheathed his blade.

"Go," he ordered.

And in complete silence, some more doubtful than others; nearly two-hundred rebels marched into Carhaiz.

Everything was burning. Smoke filled the air and clouded the night-sky, making eyes to ache every time someone blinked and lungs to hurt every time someone breathed. The terrified screams of the innocent people of Carhaiz could be heard across the whole town, however, even over the noise that the flames and crumbling houses made. Everything was nothing but chaos. Carhaiz had become a miniaturized hell on earth.

And Julian, son of Jon? Julian the Rebel? Julian was running, sword in hand and eyes darting from one burning building to another, trying to make some sense out of the hellish madness that Carhaiz had become. As he ran, he heard more and more screams all around him. How could this happen? Where were his companions? Ugh… he remembered ordering the attack, then splitting into smaller groups, then… then breaking into someone's home, face concealed under a piece of cloth. Screams, pleas, tears born of fear falling down the cheeks of the old couple that lived there. Him telling them they only wanted whatever thing of value they had. They telling him they didn't have anything between sobs. Him and his men leaving afterwards, not before breaking every door, every table, every shelf in that house.

Then he had heard a scream in the distance and… and then everything was engulfed in flames, and he didn't have the piece of cloth around his face anymore, and he was running, and he was alone.

Suddenly, a loud 'CRASH!' was heard just over his head. Something fell over Julian, and that made him fall in turn. He tried to push whatever was on top of him in order to free himself, get to his feet and keep moving… until he realized what it was. No, not it. He. It was a he. An incredibly young-looking he. Yes, although the face was twisted into a grotesque mix of terror and pain, the features were soft and delicate. And now that Julian moved the corpse and it came off from him, the body was surprisingly light and… small…

A child. He was a child. Light of Meridian, he was a child. Glorious Light, he was a child! A child! And he was dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead. Gone, forever.

Julian tried to rise, but his feet slipped into something and he fell again. He tried again, just to meet the same result. Nailing his blade on the ground, he finally came to his feet. His eyes couldn't leave the corpse. This… this boy… he couldn't be older than… six… Light of Meridian, what had they…

"Monsters!" someone yelled then, making her voice to be heard above the screams and the noise of the fire devouring the town.

Julian forced his eyes to leave the corpse to focus on a woman that was running towards him, a bloody kitchen knife in her left hand. She wasn't exceptionally old either, not older than twenty at least.

She must had seen the corpse of the child at his side, and him standing there with a sword… and… No, no, you have it wrong; Julian thought. I didn't do this, it wasn't me, it wasn't…

If Julian meant to say anything, he didn't have the chance to do so. The woman rushed at him with the intention to kill, winging the knife in order to try and open his throat. A lifetime of fighting experience kicked in, and Julian dogged the poor strikes with ease. Why would he have any problem doing so? This young woman wasn't a soldier, or a bandit, she was just… just a commoner. Just smallfolk. Like he was.

Out of pure instinct, Julian parried the young woman's last strike, forcing the kitchen knife out of her hands. Julian stepped forward with the sword held firmly in his hands, like he had done a million times before and… and he pierced the woman's torso with his blade.

The woman let out a gargling sound. Blood poured down Julian's sword, all the way down to its handle and into his hands. Before life left her, the woman forced her arms to reach his neck in a vain attempt to strangle him. Instead, she only managed to scratch him a little. After she exhaled her last breath and lost every ounce of her strength, Julian pulled his weapon from her and gravity did its work, her body falling to the ground without any grace. She landed mere inches away from the dead child.

Death, violence and blood weren't strangers to Julian the Rebel, neither was the act of taking a life with his hands and steel. He had done that a hundred times even years before the war began.

But every single human, Beast Galhot and Lurden that Julian had slain during his life had been a foe. An enemy out for his blood that would have killed him had he not killed each of them before.

But this... he thought. This is... These are...

The words wouldn't (couldn't!) form, not even within his mind. He directed one last look at the fallen innocent. Her eyes, though lifeless, still blazed with hatred. So Julian ran again. He ran and ran, through the streets and alleys of Carhaiz that hadn't been blocked by burning debris in order to find someone. Anyone! And someone he did find, in the moment he turned around the corner of an alley. There, he bumped into someone. Another child. And this one was alive thankfully. A little thing, maybe younger than the… the dead one Julian had seen earlier. Definitely skinnier. His hair was as white as snow. And he was scared. No, more than scared. Panicking. Terrified. Yet also angry. His eyes shone even more hatefully than the ones of the woman Julian had killed moments before. And why wouldn't he?

"Who are you?!" the child yelled, the way in which he did so surprising Julian by how loud the boy had made his voice to sound.

"I'm Julian," the rebel leader answered, words leaving his mouth faster than he had expected. Why had he answered? Wouldn't any survivor knowing who he was ruin the whole operation? On the other hand, why not? The boy deserved to know. "And I am a rebel;" he added. Yes, at least, he deserved to know that who had done this.

Angry yells reached his ears next, growing louder and louder –closer and closer– with every second that passed. Finally, someone! Yet the boy grew even more scared. Ah, pursuers, then? And the child was alone. No father or mother with him. Either he had lost himself in the chaos or… or they were dead. And Julian's rebels had killed them. The leader of the Rebellion looked at the child again. It wasn't long ago that his own son was this young.

"Go," he told the boy, without thinking too much about exactly why he had said that. Empathy? Regret? Shame? Honor? Irrelevant. "Go! Now!" he pressed the young one, whom, after dedicating a confused look at Julian, ran in the opposed direction the yells were coming from. Julian watched the boy become a shadowy shape in the smokes of Carhaiz. The yells grew even louder. Julian could even understand what they were saying now. 'Little rat!' 'Pet of the nobles!' 'We're gonna gut you like a fish!' 'My arm! That bastard broke my arm!' 'We're sendin' ye to yer papa in the other world, ye hear?!' And then, abruptly, they stopped. Julian found himself eye to eye with three of his fellow rebels. Two with axes, one with a spear and a broken, bleeding arm.

"Julian?" one of them inquired. "Are you alone? What are…?"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, IN THE NAME OF THE LIGHT OF MERIDIAN?!" Julian bellowed in a sudden burst of anger.

The trio grew silent again save for the usual cry of pain from the injured one. "Following your orders," answered one of the ax-wielding rebels. "We're burning the town. We were just following a…"

"A BOY!" Julian erupted. "You think I didn't just hear you?! The boy just ran through here! You were going to kill him! I ordered you to destroy Carhaiz without harming its denizens! I didn't order you to burn anything! I didn't order you to kill little boys!"

"You can't be serious..." hissed one of the ax-wielders. "Look what that bastard's father did to my arm! And I killed him! Now I'm going to kill that little pest too!"

"Are you mad?!" Julian roared.

"No, you're mad!" the man shouted back as he gave a couple of steps forward. With every step, his broken arm made a wet, cracking noise. "Or stupid! Or both! You order us to destroy this town and now you say we shouldn't?! For what?! For some pets of the Usurper and his servants?! I haven't spent all my life eating dry bread soaked in sour wine, and then wasting years fighting in this stupid war of yours, just to see these bastards living well just because they choose to kneel! No! If I get to suffer... If we get to suffer!" he bellowed, and Julian saw how his shrieks were emboldening his two companions, both readying their weapons. "Then they deserve to suffer too! No one's going to take this moment away from me! Not even YOU!"

Ignoring pain and reason, the spear-wielding rebel rushed at Julian, his broken arm pathetically jumping at his side. Yet he roared as if he were a beast, and his eyes gleamed with the same intense hatred as the ones of the young woman Julian had killed moments before.

They have really grown mad… Julian thought sadly, knowing that now it was up to him to give them death, as it's the duty of the owner of the rabid dog. He deflected the incoming thrust of the spear with ease, and kicked the rebel in his injured arm. The man let out a short-lived cry of pain, then Julian stabbed him in the throat, then pulled to his left, leaving the man's head barely hanging from his neck, and killing him instantaneously.

He knew that the other two wouldn't be so easy. If they were already emboldened by their companion's words, they would be even more now that he was dead. They came at him holding their axes high and screaming, one from the right, the other from the left. Their tactic appeared to be a simple one. Attack Julian from opposite ends and at the same time, giving him no option but engage into one opponent and leave him defenseless to the other's strike.

The rebel leader simply sidestepped and attacked one of his opponents, choosing not to stand still and tacking the initiative. However, in the moment his sword met with the other rebel's ax, Julian found him holding his weapon with just one hand, barely able to stop the rebel leader's blow. Something was wrong. Why would anyone…?

Julian watched as his opponent's lips became a grin. Then he felt a twinge in his belly. He looked down, just to see how his enemy had stabbed him with something. It wasn't even a proper weapon, like a dagger or a small spear. It was just… a pointy piece of iron, barely nailed in his flesh. But it was deep enough to inflict pain, and draw blood from his body. His opponent pressed on, trying to nail the improvised weapon deeper into Julian's body. Julian instead forced the man to lower the ax by putting al his weight into his blade, then headbutting the rebel, sending him to the ground groaning.

"Bastard!" Julian heard behind him. Damn it, he had forgotten about the other one. He had forgotten… Julian jolted around just to see an ax coming down towards him. He raised his sword in order to block it. This time his opponent struck using both hands. The Rebel tried to parry the blow, but his opponent didn't let him. Finally, he was able to unlock weapons with him.

"Bastard!" the rebel whose name Julian ignored yelled as he prepared another attack. "Yer dead, ye hear me?! Yer dead, ye pathetic…!"

A sound that reminded Julian of thunder cut his adversary's words short. Both men looked up. The building at their side cracked, and the sound was heard again. The man let out a terrified scream. Then a pile of burning debris fell over Julian's enemy. And he was no more.

Julian didn't even bother to deliver the death blow to the surviving rebel, still groaning in the ground. He simply ran away, until he exited the alley... directly into a long, wide street. A few hours ago, he had walked through this very same street. A normal, quiet, peaceful street. Not so quiet and peaceful anymore now that every building around was on fire, and the street was full of people running around, running and screaming. Julian couldn't distinguish which were the rebels under his command and which were Carhaiz's denizens. He didn't know how to proceed.

I can't do anything, he realized. I can't... I can't stop this.

No, of course he couldn't. He had ordered nearly two hundred rebels to march over Carhaiz. Those were too many to maintain under control under these circunstances. If only the whole town hadn't devolved into this chaotic mess, he may have had an opportunity to regain some control, but now that felt impossible. Julian bet that, even if he yelled an order at the top of his lungs, he wouldn't make himself ne heard above the other screams.

No! he thought. There must be something I can do, something...

ROOOOOOOOOR!

A sound was heard through the fire and smoke, and over the screams.

What? a shocked Julian wondered. What now?!

ROOOOOOOOOR!

The sound rang again, this time with more intensity.

Wait... I know that sound; Julian thought next. It's the sound of a...

ROOOOOOOOOR!

Horn. It was the sound of a horn being rung. A horn that, to Julian's increasing horror, he had heard before. It was the horn that the Guard used in battle to signal their troops that it was the moment to attack.

But it's not possible, Julian thought. The Guard shouldn't know that we are here.

ROOOOOOOOOR!

A figure broke through the smoke, head protected by helmet, cape swinging in the wind and sword in hand. Behind this figure, Julian could glimpse the silhouettes of countless Guards, all lined up, ready to march.

"Raythor…" Julian mastered to say.

"CRUSH THOSE TRAITORS!" the Captain of the Guard yelled.

And more than three-hundred guards fell over the rebels attacking Carhaiz.

Later…

Raythor's cheek was bleeding. A minor wound shaped like an 'X', nothing lethal; but it would leave a small scar. Some would say it would give him character. Truly, the wound itself didn't bother Raythor at all. He had been through far worse, and he would have it cured in a matter of minutes once he could see a healer back at the camp. No, what truly bothered him was whom had wounded him. It had been the same man that was now on his knees and chained in front of him.

Julian the Rebel. The leader of the Rebellion that had given the Prince's court so many problems for so long. And now here he was at his mercy, alongside the other rebels that had survived after his forces' charge… and it had only costed the lives of so many innocents.

Damn it all… they had arrived too late. Raythor couldn't avoid feeling guilty over that. They had known that there would be a small rebel batallion at Carhaiz for weeks. His plan was to ambush the rebels once they exited Carhaiz. It had never crossed his mind that the Rebellion had come to Carhaiz in order to burn it to ashes. To try and beguile them to become a part of them? Yes, that he could expect. But this? This?! No... it wasn't really that surprising, was it? He had read the reports about the actions of the Rebellion's Mad Dog through the villages in the vicinity of Frozen Peak, after all.

"I always knew the Rebellion was full of dishonorable cowards, but..." Raythor said through gritted teeth as he pointed his sword at Julian's face; "I had you for a better man than this, Julian."

"Big words coming from you, Raythor!" one of the other chained rebels shouted. "Phobos drains our land's lifeforce, his taxes leave the people poor and hungry, the Snake kills whoever comes across him, the Tracker hunts innocents and delivers them to the Archmage so he can turn them into monsters! You're no better than we'll ever be!"

"Quiet!" the Captain yelled, and one of his men punched the rebel across the face, silencing him. He returned his attention to Julian, pressing his sword against the chained man's shoulder. "I should behead all of you right now!"

"Captain," one of his guards said; "Lord Cedric gave clear instructions that, in case we captured a rebel commander, they were to be brought to the Capital for..."

"Cedric holds no command over me!" Raythor silenced his underling. Wasn't he Captain of the Guard?! Wasn't he meant to protect the innocent?! Wasn't he meant to put an end to the Rebellion?! Raythor raised his blade, and his eyes met Julian's. For a moment, the Captain thought they looked full of shame.

"NO!" Raythor heard a soft voice cry out, stopping his strike before it could be delivered. A boy came into his view, hair white, cheeks red, eyes tired. "You can't do it!"

"Who...?" Raythor asked.

"One of the survivors, sir;" one of the guards explained as he approached the boy with the intention of dragging him away.

"No," Raythor commanded. "I wish to know what he has to say."

The Captain walked towards the boy. He was such a little thing. "And why shouldn't I kill him?" Raythor wondered. "He killed many of..."

"No!" the child cried again. It surprised Raythor how much bravery the little one was showing. "He..." the child doubted. "He saved me. He saved my life;" he finally said.

That shook Raythor. He was expecting any answer but that one. Compassion, confusion... those he could expect. But this? What was this? A lie? No... the child had lost everything to the rebels. He had nothing to gain from lying to save the life of any of these miserable scoundrels. Which meant he was telling the truth.

"Captain," one of the guards said slowly. "We've talked with some of the other survivors, sir. Many of them say t'was some rebels that saved them. By... by fighting other rebels, sir."

Raythor narrowed his eyes, then looked at Julian over his shoulder. Then he looked back at the white-haired boy. He turned on his feet and approached Julian again, sword's handle tightly gripped in his hand.

He stood there, in front of the rebel leader, for several moments; as he found himself not knowing what to do. Am I not Captain of the Guard? he asked himself once again. Am I not meant to protect the innocent and punish the guilty? Am I not a man of honor? And what greater honor than to serve the wishes of one's liege, as he had always done? The one of saving those who cannot save themselves, even if it was at the expense of the lives of some of your own. What greater dishonor than to kill the innocent? Maybe the one of turning a blind eye and deaf ears to the cries of mercy of a child.

Raythor made his decision, and next he sheathed his blade. "It seems you still have some shred of honor withing you;" he stated calmly. "I won't be taking your life today. Be grateful to this child that I'm not doing so. But if you think you will go unpunished, you are mistaken!"

Raythor turned to his men. "Chain them into a line, and send word to the Underwater Mines!" the Captain of the Guard commanded, then he looked at Julian one last time. "Tell them they are about to receive some new prisoners…"

The Infinite City

Now

It was the first time in years that Julian woke up in a bed. He knew that it probably wasn't more than a pair of big sacks stitched together and full of straw, but it was an astonishing improvement over the dirty, wet and cold ground of the Underwater Mines over which he had slept for the last couple of years. It felt as if he was ling over a cloud.

Yet everything hurt. He supposed it was due to the fact that this had been the first time in years that his body had been allowed to rest properly. In all the nights and days at the Underwater Mines, he (like the rest of the prisoners) had been allowed to sleep only a minimum of hours before being put to work again. His body must have become accustomed to the pain, strain and sleeplessness Sempronio and the rest had put it through, drawing strength from where, truly, there wasn't any; doing its best to keep Julian alive with which it had. Now there was no risk of dying, no chance of getting his back whipped or being denied a poor excuse for a meal. Therefore, it seemed as if his body had surrendered and was allowing Julian to feel the full extent of the punishment it had taken for almost three years of imprisonment.

But there was a part of his body that hurt more than the rest. His nose. No... not simply hurt, now that he was regaining full consciousness, Julian noted that he couldn't take air properly through it, instead having to breathe through his mouth. He mastered to take a tired hand to his face. There were bandages over his nose.

Broken, he thought.

What had happened? He tried to remember. The mines, the revolt... Drake...

Caleb.

His son.

An impact.

Darkness.

Nothing more.

"What in the Light's name..." Julian whispered.

"He punched you," Julian heard a gruff voice at his right. "That son of yours, that's what I've heard. It's not so hard to believe, after everything that has happened. You have been sleeping for half a day."

Julian turned his head slightly into the voice's direction. It took his eyes several moments to register who had spoken. A bulky Galhot of blue skin, sitting over a small stool that somehow was able to withstand his weight. Any other would have found the picture funny. But not Julian.

"Vathek," Julian said, recognizing his old friend. "What are you..." Julian's nose made a weird noise as he tried to sit up in the bed; "doing here?"

Vathek tilted his head in confusion for a second before understanding. "Right, you don't know about it. They found out, Julian. About me being a spy at Phobos' court." Vathek chuckled, looking down at his big, blue hands. "It feels like it has been an eternity since that."

"You could say that," Julian said, chuckling too. "How many years have I been...?"

"Nearly three," Vathek answered.

"That long…" Julian sighed. It was hard to keep track of time within the Underwater Mines, yet he had hoped it hadn't been that much time. "Where is…?"

"Why wasn't I informed about Carhaiz?" Vathek asked bluntly, lifting his gaze from his hands.

Julian's words became a weird sound in his throat. He finally gave up upon trying to sit up on the makeshift bed and decided it was best to lie over his back, staring at the green ceiling of the Infinite City. He sighed again. "Is that why you are here?"

"The main reason, yes;" Vathek answered.

"So… you know," Julian said. Truth to be told, he had tried to think as little as possible about Carhaiz during his imprisonment. He had enough with having to fight to live another day to trouble himself with thoughts concerning that dreadful, horrible night. And yet, from time to time, the thoughts did come, even if he fought with all his mental fortitude to evade them. The memories of fire, blood and screams assaulted him even in his dreams.

"Not thanks to you," Vathek said bitterly, taking Julian out of his own mind.

"Vathek..." Julian almost pleaded.

"No," the blue Galhot barked and silenced him. "Answer my question."

"Because you were a spy," Julian answered. His nose made another weird sound. "I couldn't risk… the Rebellion couldn't risk blowing your cover by contacting you. It was too important that we had eyes and ears not just in the streets of the Capital, but also within the Royal Palace. Within the ranks of the Guard. Within the Prince's court. We needed that information, and you were the only one that could gather it. Your position was too valuable;" the former rebel leader explained tiredly. "That is why we didn't inform you about…"

"About how we planned to destroy a town full of innocent people?" Vathek ended for him.

"That wasn't the plan," Julian said, now his own voice sounding bitter too. He didn't need to have this conversation. Not now. What he needed now was rest. "And if you know about Carhaiz, you must know that too."

Vathek grunted. "I know, yes;" the bulky Galhot admitted. "But I also know that Carhaiz ended in ruins anyway. I know how many died there that night. And I know that we were the ones to perpetrate them." Vathek closed his eyes and shook his head a couple of times. Afterwards he sat up from the stool and walked away from Julian's makeshift bed. "I have done my own share of horrible, dishonorable deeds during this war, especially during my time as a spy. Turning a blind eye to the execution of members of the Rebellion I knew as friends that needed help, good people from the Guard I had to quietly dispose of… I'm not proud of any of those actions;" the large blue man stated sadly. "But a part of me found some comfort into the idea that I was doing it all for the people. That, at least, we weren't as horrible as the Prince. That we wouldn't sink as low as he or his court of monsters. Then I learned the truth about Carhaiz. Apparently, I was wrong about that."

"Vathek, wait;" Julian pleaded. "If you could let me explain what truly happened…"

"You can keep those explanations to yourself, Julian;" Vathek said as he stopped. "Look, I…" the blue Galhot sighed, hands clenching into fists just to open afterwards. "I don't know if I have any right to judge you. Not yet. And frankly, I have more important matters to attend to, and you clearly need more rest." The bulky man approached the door to the room Julian had been left into, opening it. "I came here to seek an answer as to why I wasn't informed of the attack over Carhaiz. You gave me that, so I thank you. But we both know I'm not the one you owe some explanations to;" Vathek sentenced as he exited and closed the door behind him.

And Julian found himself alone in that small room of the Infinite City. He tried to accommodate himself in his bed, and breathe through his mouth. His nose made another strange noise, and Julian couldn't avoid touching it one more time.

Yes, the former rebel leader thought. I suppose that is true.

And within minutes, he had fallen back into sleep due to sheer tiredness.

Across the Veil; a day later

Heatherfield

Chan Flat

"Are you sure everything is alright, mother?" Tohru asked through a phone.

"I'm fine, son;" the voice of his mother said from the other end of the line. You shouldn't worry about me. I should worry about you! Is that goat feeding my little boy well?!"

"Sensei isn't a goat, mother;" Tohru replied, albeit he couldn't avoid choking a chuckle in his throat. "But what about the illness you had?" he asked more seriously. "Have you suffered any relapse?"

"Oh you worry too much, Tohru!" the Japanese woman replied sternly. "That illness hasn't given me any problem ever since young Mariko treated me!"

"Yes… I know;" Tohru said, hiding his growing worry. Up until now he had thought about Mariko Takeda as nothing else than a nice, friendly woman who had helped his mother due to being a doctor herself and being the daughter of Foreman Takeda, a man his mother considered her friend.

But now that he had fought Mariko, now that he knew she worked alongside that strange sorceress that had an interest in the Oni Masks, and adding that to how quickly his mother had contracted that illness and how equally quickly she had regained her health once under Mariko's care… Tohru had learned a lot about magic under the care of his Sensei. Such as the fact that there were spells that could inflict effects upon people very similar to illnesses. Had Mariko Takeda (or the sorceress she was in cahoots with) used magic to make his mother grow ill in order to get closer to them? If that was the case… then his mother could be in serious peril! Nothing was stopping them from kidnapping his mother, or worse!

But if Mariko and whoever that "Butterfly Sorceress" really was were truly interested into the Oni Masks in order to use them for some horrible purpose… then why not simply kidnap or threaten his mother to force him, Sensei, Jackie and the rest to meet their demands? Why not ambush them at the clearing if they wanted Ikazuki's Mask? Why not try and hold his tired Sensei captive and exchange him for the Mask? 'We want to destroy it', Mariko had said. Had that been true? If so, why escape once her identity was revealed? And why destroy the Mask? Or how could you accomplish that?

Was Mariko (and by extension the mysterious sorceress) a potential enemy? An unlikely ally? Too many questions. That was why, although his mother already knew about the existence of magic, Tohru hadn't revealed to her the truth about Mariko's identity. Or Liam's, for that matter. Jackie was right, it was better to leave the investigation in Captain Black's hands for now, and proceed once they had more information.

"Just… take care, mother;" Tohru told her. "And if something happens don't doubt calling me."

"That's my line," the old Japanese woman answered. "Eat well, and don't let that goat-man overwork you!" she declared sternly. "And tell me when I will be able to pay you a visit," she added more sweetly. "I miss you."

"I will," Tohru answered with matching sweetness coloring his voice. "I love you, mother;" he said, then hanged and he let out a breath that he felt he had been holding through the entire conversation.

Well, at least he was sure his mother was alright now. Which meant that it was time for the Chi Wizard apprentice to check on the elder that wasn't separated from him by an ocean.

Slowly, Tohru made his way to Uncle's bedroom, fitting himself through the door with some difficulty. There he found his mentor, sitting over his bed with his legs extended and his back resting against a bunch of pillows, several blankets over his lower body and drinking from a cup of hot tea.

"How are you feeling, Sensei?" the sumo asked.

"Uncle is fine!" the elder protested, taking a sip from the cup. "But tea could use some ice! It's too hot! Does apprentice not know that we are in the middle of summer?!"

"Sorry, Sensei;" Tohru apologized, not at all bothered by the elder's ramblings. He had grown accustomed to those long ago, after all. "I was sure I didn't heat it up that much," the apprentice said as he moved to take the cup from his mentor's old, wrinkled hands.

It took him mere minutes to take the cup to the kitchen and come back, now with a tiny ice-cube floating on the tea. He handed it to Uncle, who proceeded to drink from it with pleasure.

"Better," the old man said, delighted. "Now, doesn't apprentice have spells to study?"

"Yes... Sensei," Tohru admitted, albeit he didn't think he had the time to focus on his studies, not with his mentor like this. True, the Horse Talisman had done its job perfectly, healing all the damage that his body may had sustained during his duel against Ikazuki, but it had done nothing to erase Uncle's extreme fatigue as a result of his use of Xiāo Lì. And so he had expended the last day and a half bedridden, trying to regain his strength. And although the elder insisted that he didn't need any help, Tohru didn't want to leave him unattended. "But are you sure I should leave you alone?"

"Bah!" the old man protested, taking another sip from the cup of tea. "Uncle doesn't need to be pampered! Uncle has tea! Uncle is in bed! Apprentice should focus on his studies! He will never become a proper Chi Wizard otherwise! One more thing!"

"Oh, leave poor Tohru alone;" someone said at the bedroom's door. "he's just worried about you."

"Aiyah!" Uncle shouted, putting all his effort into making sure the cup of tea didn't fall from his hands, while Tohru turned around so he could see who had spoken.

"Mrs. Lin?" the sumo inquired.

"Hello," the former Air Guardian greeted as she stepped into the room. She was dressed in her usual robes, and carrying a large purse with her.

"How did cousin enter here?" Uncle demanded to know.

"Oh, your nephew made me a copy of your apartment's keys;" the old Chinese lady explained, dangling a key-chain containing two keys in front of the two men. "For emergencies."

"Uncle doesn't believe this to be an emergency," the old Chi Wizard said, adjusting his glasses with one hand while holding his cup of tea with the other.

"I disagree!" Yan Lin declared cheerfully, in a manner that reminded Tohru a lot about her granddaughter. "You are clearly bored, dear cousin;" she said, pointing to Uncle with her opened hand. "And Tohru here," she pointed towards the mountain of a man; "clearly has more important things to do than look after you, but he's too nice and worried to admit it. So here I am," the elderly woman declared with a happy, big smile while searching within her purse until she extracted a small, wooden box. She shook it a little, producing a soft rumbling sound; "and I brought Mahjong."

Uncle's eyes widened a little as he and Tohru stared at both Yan Lin and the box she was holding. Then the old man drank his cup of tea in a single gulp and handed it to Tohru.

"Apprentice can take that to kitchen. Then he will puck up one of Uncle's books and study!"

"But, Sensei..." Tohru tried to protest once more.

"Oh, just let it be, big guy;" Yan Lin said. "I can handle him, I promise."

"I have no doubt about that, Mrs. Lin..." Tohru began to argue yet again, but he found himself walking towards the door and exiting his mentor's bedroom.

"Practice summoning and banishing spells!" Uncle instructed from his bed.

And the door closed behind the mountain of a man.

Fifteen minutes later

"Mahjong!" Uncle exclaimed proudly, winning the game he and Yan Lin had started playing. They had set up the Mahjong tiles over Uncle's bedside table, with Uncle sitting properly over his bed and Yan Lin over a cushioned stool across it.

"Ah… best out of three?" Yan Lin asked.

"If cousin wants to lose again…" Uncle conceded with feigned arrogance, beginning to put the tiles back on place once again. Both elders did so in silence, until the Mahjong set was ready to play again. Next both players picked the tiles that corresponded to each. And so, a new game began.

"Are your nephew and niece out?" Yan Lin asked.

"Thief isn't Uncle's niece!" the Chi Wizard said loudly.

"Yet," the former Air Guardian said with a little grin. "Don't give me that look, they make a good couple, and you know it."

Uncle mumbled something between his teeth. "They are delivering Oni Mask to an associate of Captain Black."

"Oh yes, the Oni Mask;" Yan Lin said, scratching her chin. "The Oni Mask you risked your life for, right?"

"Ah, so cousin Yan hasn't come just to play Mahjong," Uncle said, taking a Mahjong tile and holding it in his hand. He then discarded one from those he was already holding.

"No, of course not. I wanted to see you." Yan Lin answered, taking a tile and discarding another, just as Uncle had done. "Did you honestly believe that neither Jackie or Hay Lin wouldn't tell me about what you did? One thing is casting spells, cousin. Assist your nephew or the girls. Another, very different thing is getting into a physical fight with a demonically possessed meridianite teenager."

"Does Uncle need to remind cousin Yan that she had no problems breaking into a meridianite palace by Uncle's side?" the Chi Wizard retorted, to which Yan Lin glanced aside. He took another Mahjong tile and discarded another from the ones in his possession. "And if it wasn't for Uncle, there would have been nooooooo way to remove Mask from meridianite boy! Uncle knew there were risks, but there wasn't any other option! One more thing! Uncle may be old, but he isn't made of paper!"

"It still was very reckless of you," Yan Lin commented, doing the same move Uncle had done. "We aren't young anymore."

Uncle shrugged. "Youth is overrated."

Yan Lin chuckled mischievously. "I didn't hear that you had that opinion when under the effect of the Dog Talisman."

Uncle gasped audibly. "And who told you that?!"

"Jade," Yan Lin said, drawing another Mahjong tile and taking a good look at it. "Ah! Mahjong!" she said, clapping her hands once.

"Uncle will have words with Jackie and Jade about this," Uncle said, and he quickly began to shuffle the tiles. "Uh... time for tie-breaker."

"If you insist," Yan Lin said, mimicking Uncle's previous feigned arrogance, as they set the game again.

The two elders began playing their last match of Mahjong. As they took tiles and discarded others, Yan Lin's brow frowned, making the wrinkles on it all the more prominent; and her eyes narrowed. After finishing her current move, she breathed deeply.

"Why didn't you tell me that you confronted Nerissa the day Cassidy died?" Yan Lin asked, using a far more serious tone of voice. "Why didn't you tell anyone? Any of us?"

Uncle shrugged as he stopped midway from making his next move, leaving a Mahjong tile exactly where it was when he had picked it. Yes, of course she would know. Uncle had mentioned a woman who could conjure storms in his duel with Ikazuki. If Jackie had talked with Yan Lin about that, of course the former Air Guardian would put two and two together. "Maybe it was wounded pride, maybe it was sadness, maybe it was shame… There are a lot of answers to that question, cousin Yan. Maybe it was all of those at once." Uncle explained, shifting to the use of the first person as he always did when he was serious. "Or maybe I just… Maybe I couldn't bear to look Kadma, Halinor and cousin Yan in the face after I failed to stop."

"But you should have told me," Yan Lin told him angrily.

It was such a rare sight to behold, the one of an angry Yan Lin; even for one of her own blood such as Uncle. She didn't raise her voice, neither did her expression change that much. She didn't curse, neither did she slam her hands against the little bedside table. For all intents and purposes, she was unchanged. And yet the anger was there, just... hidden. Quiet. Subtle.

"And what would telling cousin Yan about something that happened decades ago have changed?" Uncle inquired. "Nothing. Nothing at..."

"No. No, you... you should have told me, back then;" Yan Lin cut him off; "when we were young. You should have told me about what you were going to do."

"No, I shouldn't have;" Uncle said bluntly.

"What?" Yan Lin asked flatly, but one of her hairs, usually always kept into her impeccable topknot, fell out of place and in front of her face. And although the window of his bedroom was closed, Uncle could have sworn that he had felt a breeze.

"If I had told cousin Yan and the others of my intentions, you would have stopped me;" Uncle explained.

"Of course I would have stopped you!" Yan Lin said, her voice rising a bit for the first time in the conversation. "You knew how much more powerful than you Nerissa was! You were lucky she didn't fry you or...!"

"No. Now is cousin Yan who doesn't understand;" Uncle cut her off this time. "Cousin Yan, and Kadma, and Halinor... any of you would have stopped me, but none of you would have confronted Nerissa afterwards." Uncle paused, tapping a finger against a lonesome Mahjong tile. "What did I tell cousin Yan back then, when the Oracle took the Heart of Kandrakar from one of her friends to give it to another? Nerissa is dangerous, I told cousin Yan. She is planning something, I told cousin Yan. But she didn't listen. None of the Guardians listened."

"But you should have told me," Yan Lin insisted. She didn't sound angry now. Just... bitter. Sad. Hurt.

"Yes I..." he sighed heavily; "probably should have," Uncle finally admitted. He continued to tap against one of the Mahjong tiles. "Has cousin Yan... ever gone to see Nerissa? In her prison?"

"No," Yan Lin answered after a few moments. "I visit Cassidy's grave each year, but I have never gone to see Nerissa in her cage."

"Why?" Uncle asked.

Yan Lin shrugged this time. "For the same reasons you didn't tell me anything, I guess."

Both elders returned to their previous silence for a while, only broken by a short-lived chuckle by Uncle. "Aiyah… Look at us, talking about 'What-could-have-been's! As if we could change the choices we made back then!"

"We really have grown old, haven't we?" Yan Lin wondered, adding her own little chuckle to the one of her cousin. Her anger had gone away as easy as it had come, it seemed.

Uncle laughed at that. "Ah… Sorry, cousin Yan. I shouldn't have kept that truth from you."

"No, no; you don't have to apologize;" Yan Lin told him. "You are right about what I would have done if you had told me what you were planning to do back then." The former Air Guardian took the hair that had moved in front of her face and put it back where it belonged. "Even elders like us shouldn't get lost in the past. What is done is done, right? And thank you, cousin. For trying to stop Nerissa back then."

"Hmph. There is no need for thanks, cousin Yan;" Uncle said sincerely. "Now… what if we finish this game?"

"Very well," Yan Lin said, returning her attention to the Mahjong tiles.

Meanwhile, outside Danny Ashcroft's cafeteria

"So this is the thing?" Raphael Silla asked as he opened a briefcase containing the blue, grinning Oni Mask of General Ikazuki. God, it's even creepier than the one I found for Ludmoore… "Awesome. Now's just a matter of getting to the airport and this thing out of a bad Goosebumps episode will be in San Francisco in less than an hour."

"And remember, nobody must put this Mask on;" Jackie Chan, standing by Viper's side, both of them dressed in sportswear; warned the man.

"Hey, don't worry Mr. Chan. I've been told what these things can do;" a relaxed Silla told him, closing the briefcase. "I'll give the agents in charge of bringing this one to HQ explicit orders to not even open the briefcase."

"Very well," a calm Jackie said. The last thing that he desired for anyone was to be put through the same nightmare Viper, Aldarn and he had lived when under the influence and control of an Oni Mask. And if there was something none of them needed right now was for Ikazuki to regain a body and roam free once again.

"Anything else to report? More magic shenanigans, or any news on…?" Silla asked.

"Ross?" Viper finished for the tanned, blond, bespectacled man. "Sorry, but still no news about the man."

"Pity," Silla said; "and weird, too. Knowing the kind of man Ross is, he should have tried some kind of stupid, crazy thing by now. He's not the kind of man to wait on the sidelines and lie low for so long."

Now it was Viper who shrugged. "Beats me. Everyone I've asked, in the right or wrong side of the law, knows nothing. But as I've said before, that guy is probably already on Italy, at least."

"I guess that's everything, then;" Silla said, brushing his jacket.

"Actually, there is something else I would like for you to talk with Captain Black about;" Jackie told the Section 13 operative. "Or, it would be better to say it's a favor I need to ask of him."

"And that would be?" Silla asked.

"To investigate a woman named Mariko Takeda;" Jackie explained.

Twenty minutes later

A park

"And that's one more thing taken care of," Viper said, stretching her arms upwards as both her and Jackie walked into one of Heatherfield's parks. "And here I am; free to do whatever I want, in a beautiful day of summer, and in the company of the man of my dreams;" she added in a funny tone; "about to lose some time teaching some moves to a kid. Why did I let you talk me into this?"

"Because Matt is a good kid, Will asked me to help him with his training and if it was just me I would only be able to teach him the basics of martial arts ad Kung-Fu;" Jackie answered.

"I thought you did that with the girls and it went just fine," Viper said.

"Each of the girls can lift me over their head with ease when transformed," Jackie reminded her; "and barring Will they all have magical powers. Considering that, the basics are enough. It was never a matter of transforming them into masters, but of helping them to learn how to handle their newfound strength." Jackie paused as they approached a spot in the park that was covered by shade thanks to some trees. "Matt is as strong as a regular human of his size and age. I doubt just the basics will do it if he wants to defend himself appropriately, and we can't dedicate enough time to the learning and practice of even a single style like I have with Jade. Basics of Kung-Fu and some mixed-martial-arts, on the other hand…"

"So that's why I'm here," Viper deduced, her lips curbing into a mildly cocky smile. "Because I'm the best mixed martial artist you know."

"You are the only user of mixed-martial-arts I know," Jackie corrected her playfully, earning himself a little glare and a soft punch in the shoulder.

"Careful, handsome;" Viper jokingly scolded him. "You still owe me a proper date that doesn't get interrupted by an emergency call or a giant, floating demon head."

"Well, now that you mention it…" Jackie began, before being interrupted by a distant shout of 'Mr. Chan!'. Looking into the yell's direction, Jackie and Viper were greeted by a smiling Matt Olsen, dressed in his own sportswear, and approaching them as he entered into the park.

"Sorry I'm late," the teenage boy apologized once he reached the pair of adults. "I had to help my grandpa with some things n his shop, and…"

"You aren't late, Matt;" Jackie told the teen. "You have already met Viper. She will be helping us today."

"Oh, yes;" Matt said, waving his hand at Viper as an awkward greeting. "Hello, ma'am. Nice to see you again."

"Same here," the ex-thief greeted him back. "You can drop the ma'am, by the way."

Matt nodded, then turned a face full of eagerness towards Jackie. "So, what's today's lesson?"

Heatherfield's streets

In the way to the Browns' house

As Matt Olsen began practicing martial-arts stances and basic punching and kicking techniques under Jackie and Viper's tutelage; the five Guardians of Kandrakar, Jade Chan and Alchemy Ethel were in their way to the house that, for almost fourteen years, had served as the home of Thomas, Elanor and Elyon Brown.

"Are you okay, Hay-Hay?" Irma Lair asked of the Air Guardian. "You look tired."

"Uhm?" an absent Hay Lin mumbled. "Oh, yeah… I guess."

"You guess?" Jade wondered. "Hay Lin, you got bags under your eyes."

It was true, she did have little bags under her eyes. Nothing too pronounced, but it was enough to be noticed. Hay Lin took her fingers to her left eye, touching said little bag a little. "Oh… I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Nightmares?" Will asked, thinking back to her own nightmares, the ones she had had after Torus Filney.

"One nightmare," Hay Lin clarified. "It's always the same, and I dream it every night since a few days ago. And I know it's just a dream, and all that but it's so… creepy," she shuddered. "Then I wake up, I drink some warm milk and go back to sleep, and… that's it."

"Maybe you should see a doctor about that," Alchemy suggested. "You know, like a therapist of something?"

"And what do we tell them?" Cornelia inquired. "Hey, our friend here's having nightmares because we're fighting in a war in another world, or dimension, or whatever; could you help her? Oh, by the way, magic's real, demons are real, dragons are real, wizards are real, all that is real. Taranee's lucky we heal fast in Guardian form and that Sephiria and her magic priests healed her before we left the Infinite City, because I don't know how she was going to explain to her family how she got her ribs broken."

"Geez, we get it Corny;" Irma told her friend. "No need to freak out like that."

"Which reminds me," Will said as the group of seven girls turned around the next corner and stopped, the house of the Browns finally within their sights; "Cornelia, I need you to stay calm through this. We need the Browns' help, and…"

"I know, I know;" Cornelia said. They had gone through this three times already; "and even if it's unlikely, there's a chance that they won't want to help us if I rub in their faces that Elyon would probably be on our side right now if they had told her the truth when she was old enough."

"I think that's exactly the type of comment we don't need from you," Irma chimed in, earning herself a glare from Cornelia, which in turn made nothing but make the Water Guardian snicker a bit.

"Okay, let's go;" Will commanded, and the seven girls walked towards the house.

Within the Browns' residence

Once they had greeted them, Elanor and Thomas had lead the seven girls into the living room as soon as they had set foot in the house. There, Will had sat on the couch with Taranee and Hay Lin at her sides. Irma had sat on a regular chair, while Alchemy had chosen the living room's armchair. Cornelia and Jade, for their part, had opted for remaining standing behind the couch.

After a couple of minutes, the Browns joined them, bringing chairs of their own and sitting in front of the seven girls. Both adults remained silent for a couple of minutes, before Elanor decided to break the silence.

"First, I would like to thank you all for rescuing us;" Elanor said, forcing a smile to come to her face. Although none of the people gathered there wanted to admit it, a lot of tension could be felt in the room. She breathed deeply after saying those words. "How much do you all know about… us?"

"We know your real names are Miriael and Alborn," Will said, unwilling to beat around the bush; "and that you two were part of the Royal Guard of Elyon's biological mother when she was alive. During the night Phobos' coup took place, you two and Mrs. Rudolph… I mean, Galgheita; grabbed Elyon and escaped to Earth. We know you two are actually Galhots under defective glamours that can't be dispelled for long. Aside from that, not so much;" the Keeper of the Heart paused, thinking about any possibly useful detail she could have forgotten about. "But I don't think knowing more would change anything," she sentenced, as nothing came to mind.

Behind her back, she heard Cornelia grumble something she couldn't understand, followed by a soft whisper of 'Cornelia...' from Jade. Good, good; the last thing they needed in this kind of situation was more conflict, and she supposed that the last thing the Browns needed was to be reminded even more of what had happened between them and their adopted daughter.

"Then why have you come here?" Alborn asked of the girls.

"Alchemy?" the redheaded Keeper of the Heart asked of the girl sitting on the armchair.

"A few weeks ago I went to Meridian, and I met with Elyon in a city named Lannion;" Alchemy told the pair of adults, whose eyes widened in surprise at the mention of their daughter. "I talked with her, told her who her brother really was, the harm that he's done to the people of Meridian. She just… flew away, and I thought she didn't believe me, but… well…"

"We believe, especially after receiving word from some informants of Ludmoore;" Taranee helped the girl; "that Elyon asked to see you two. That's the reason why Cedric and Miranda went to Cavigor personally. That's why we rescued you. There's a huge possibility that she's begun to mistrust Phobos."

"So if Phobos fails to deliver us to Elyon, that mistrust grows;" Miriael deduced correctly.

"Yes, but we don't think it'll be enough;" Will spoke again. "That's where you two enter the picture. Two weeks from now," the redhead explained; "the Rebellion will launch an attack over the nobility's forces assembled at the Meridian Plains. But defeating the enemy's armies while Phobos is still safe in his palace and with someone as powerful as Elyon by his side means nothing. While we're doing that, you two, leading a small team, will break into the Capital's castle and confront Elyon and Phobos with how the rebels have defeated the nobility's army. You will demand his surrender and a pacific ascension of Elyon to the throne."

"How will we know that the Rebellion truly has?" Alborn questioned.

"Trust me," Jade said proudly; "the nobility's army's going down. We've let nothing open to chance this time."

"Knowing Phobos and Elyon, either she finally accepts the kind of person her brother truly is; or he will react violently to his loss and reveal himself;" Will continued the explanation of her plan. "And there's nobody that knows the castle's insides better than you two, who worked for years within it."

"But that was more than a decade ago," Miriael complained. "Patrols within the castle may have changed, new corridors or rooms added or old ones destroyed either by the Prince's magic or by his followers…"

"Oh, don't worry about that;" Will said as her lips became a smirk. "We got that possibility covered."

Across the Veil

The Infinite City

Nerissa Crossnic was in high spirits, even if she couldn't show it, having to retain the stoicism that characterized the ancient woman she was impersonating. Then again, why wouldn't she be? Everything was proceeding even better than she had planned for. Phobos' regime was on its last legs: the nobility would be dealt with soon thanks to the Guardians' plans, Wong wasn't a problem anymore, her Rebellion had been given a boost in its numbers thanks to the prisoners of the Underwater Mines, even if they would probably only serve as cannon fodder.

And her beloved was back. He was alive. Julian was alive. The fallen Keeper of the Heart doubted that there had been a moment in the recent years of her life in which she had felt this happy. Finally all her sweat and tears were bearing fruits. True, there was still a long road to walk through ahead of her, but sooner rather than latter her dreams would come true.

In the meantime, better to stick to the role she had chosen and play her part. Which meant it was time to have a nice, civil conversation with someone she had wanted to talk with for a long time.

The two rebels that had been assigned guard duty bowed to them as she walked into the chamber that served as the Rebellion's prison alongside Drake and Vathek. "Leave us," she ordered in her Mage's persona's raspy voice, and the pair did as told. Then the 'Mage', Drake and Vathek approached the bars of energy containing the only prisoner that was being held there at the moment and the blue Galhot pushed a tray with some food between them.

It took minutes for the prisoner to step out of the shadows of his cell. Ah, he had discarded the green robes in favor of only dressing in a cotton shirt and the dark green pants he wore underneath. The man pulled his long, blond hair out of his face, and took a look at the tray. He allowed one of his brows to rise, either in surprise, suspicion, or both.

A small bowl full of steaming vegetable-soup, a not-outrageously-big grilled steak with mashed potatoes, two little baked fishes, and a cup full of wine. Those were the contains of the tray Vathek had given the prisoner.

Slowly, he sat in the ground, with his legs crossed. He eyed the three people at the other side of the bars, then took a look at the food. He sniffed it next, taking his time with each dish and the drink. A smug smile came to his lips.

"Interesting," Lord Cedric said, taking the cup of wine first and drinking half of it in one go. "Predictable, yes; but not less interesting because of that. Also, not as good as what I'm accustomed to drink and eat at the castle, but it will do. Vathek, old friend. And you must be the great Mage! Oh, and… some rebel I don't know." The Snake Lord greeted as he left the cup over the tray and, taking a spoon, he decided to try the soup next. Finding it too hot, he left it, and turned his attention to the pair of fishes. As he cut one into pieces and began eating them with their bones and everything, the imprisoned Shapeshifter looked at his captors once again. "I guess you want something from me."

"What makes you think that, beast?" Vathek asked of the Shapeshifter, and the 'Mage' fought the urge to roll her eyes. As if there was any need for that with people like Cedric.

"Vathek please, stop embarrassing yourself;" Cedric said smugly. "You spent years serving in the castle's dungeons, you know that you only give privileges to a prisoner when you want something from them. We all know I would be dead already if you didn't have any use to make of me, and here I am, still alive." Cedric finished devouring the second fish, then took the bowl of soup again. He took a sip from it, and since it had apparently cooled down already, he began drinking directly from it. "Once again," he said between gulps; "what do you want from me?"

The 'Mage' made a signal to a scowling Drake, who took a scroll that he was carrying and tossed it between the energy bars. Cedric caught and unfolded it with one hand while helping himself to drink from the bowl of soup with the other.

"A map of the royal palace?" he asked, genuinely intrigued. His curiosity did nothing but grow once Drake approached the energy bars and pushed a small inkwell and quill through them.

"You will signal in that map all secret passages you know of inside the castle," the 'Mage' instructed. "You will also detail the motion patterns of all the patrolling guards and Lurdens of the castle. And of course, you will also share any other information you possess, whether you judge it as important or not."

The arrogant smile returned. "And what makes you think that I will be willing to betray Prince Phobos in exchange of an, at best, mediocre meal?"

"Who is embarrassing himself now?" Vathek snorted. "Don't try to sound like Raythor, Cedric; it doesn't fit lying scum such as you. We know you allied yourself to Archmage Wong when he tried to usurp Phobos," the blue Galhot told the imprisoned Shapeshifter. "I don't know how you talked yourself out of being executed after that, but it's stupid to think that your servitude to the Prince is born out of loyalty."

Cedric shrugged. "In a world like this one, every Lurden, Galhot and human has to look out for himself and find any way he can in order to prosper. We Shapeshifters are no different." He left the bowl of soup over the tray, and proceeded to cut the grilled steak into pieces; then he picked a bit of mashed potatoes with a piece of the steak in a fork and devour it. "I just did what I do best," the Snake Lord said, munching. "I saw an opportunity to advance my own position and acquire more power, and I took it. Just as I did all those years ago, when I first became the Prince's right hand. Just as I did when I convinced him to attack Zamballa. Just as I did when Raythor was falsely accused of your crimes, my old blue friend. I believe I never thanked you for that. It made moving around the castle so much easier." Cedric swallowed and then laughed, making Vathek to glare at him in disgust and clench his big, blue fists in anger.

"An opportunistic snake from the beginning to the end," the 'Mage' declared. "Then surely a man of your ilk must know the few opportunities that lie ahead of him."

Cedric sighed as he ate another portion of his steak. "Sadly," he conceded. "What do I obtain in exchange of my services? A pardon? Oh!" he said funnily. "Do I become a member of the Rebellion? Do I get to fight valiantly alongside the brave rebels? The Guardians?"

"Don't play your luck, snake;" Drake broke into the conversation. "As you have said, you only remain alive due to the information you can provide us with. Don't do it or try lying to us, and I swear on my mother's tomb I will put that healing factor of yours to the test."

Cedric's eyes narrowed at the other blond man for a second. "I… do know you, yes? Yesssssss," the man hissed, his tongue shifting into the one of a snake for a brief moment. "You were younger, back then…"

"Enough," the 'Mage' stopped them. I should have seen this coming, Nerissa thought, initially surprised at the behavior of the otherwise calm Drake, then remembering that it had been the Snake of Cavigor who had killed his mother. "What you obtain from this bargain of ours is precisely that. Not dying. Do as we command, and you will be kept alive and granted a fair trial that will not end in an execution once the war is over."

"Not very fair if we already know its conclusion, isn't it?" Cedric wondered. "Very well, I accept your terms. Not that I have any other option."

"Then get to work," Vathek said after the 'Mage' made a sign and the trio of rebel commanders turned around and began to leave.

"Oh, but before you go, I have one last question for the great Mage;" Cedric asked at their backs.

Sighing, Nerissa decided that humoring one last jest of the Snake wouldn't harm anyone. "What is it?" the 'Mage' asked.

"Why didn't you do nothing to stop the Prince's coup?" Cedric asked seriously, making the trio of rebel commanders to turn on their heels in shock.

Nerissa was surprised by that question. Why had he made that question? Did he… know? No, that was ridiculous. How could he know? It was impossible. Yet the possibility crept into the fallen Guardian's mind in no different manner than Cedric himself crept around when in his beast form.

"What makes you think I could?" the 'Mage' asked.

"Because you are the Mage. The Mage," Cedric said, putting emphasis into the name of the woman whose life Nerissa had stolen. "You have served the royal bloodline of Escanor since centuries ago. Stories say it was you who crafted the legendary Star of Threbe. I find hard to believe that any kind of plot could brew within the castle's walls during Weira's reign without you knowing nothing about it." Cedric paused, then lifted the already emptied plate of grilled steak and mashed potatoes and licked it. "And yet, over the years, I learned from the Prince and the nobles that you did nothing to stop it. You didn't warn the Queen, or her Royal Guard, or her loyalists. The only conclusion I reached was that… you didn't want to." Cedric let the plate fall from his hand. It landed over the tray with a little 'clink!'. "Admit it, you wanted the crown out of Weira's head as much as the nobles did."

"Get the work done, Cedric;" Vathek spoke before the 'Mage' could do so herself. "And keep your lies to yourself."

"Yes, yes. I suppose that is the problem with us liars, isn't it?" Cedric said as the trio began to leave again. "You really don't know when we are telling the truth."

"I'm sorry you had to endure such disrespect, great Mage;" Vathek said as he, the 'Mage' and Drake exited the prison-chamber.

"Men like Cedric, especially in a position like the one he is in now, will always try to use tricks and deceit in order to seed discord amongst their enemies;" the 'Mage' calmed Vathek. "It is a good thing his forked tongue has no strength here."

Nerissa laughed in her head. For a second, she had feared that Cedric had successfully deduced her identity, somehow. Or at least, that she wasn't really who she told she was, or that there were ulterior motives behind her backing of the Rebellion. But he had done nothing but scratch the surface of a plan too complex for him to unveil.

But out of all of Phobos' followers, he is without a doubt the most intelligent… and the most treacherous and unpredictable; Nerissa thought. And therefore… unfit to be used. Such a pity, Cedric; she thought sarcastically. You could have made such an astounding Knight…

Hours later, a small chamber within the Infinite City

"They will kill him!" the shape of young Lady Miranda cried from a magic red book that lay over a table. Sitting at said table, Charles Ludmoore drummed his wooden fingers against the lighter wood of the furniture piece while Cyrus Ludmoore paced around the room. "They will kill him, and skin him like those bastards do with all Shapeshifters!"

"Calm down, Miranda;" Charles told the shape of his younger sibling's lover.

"Don't tell me to calm down, Charles! Not when the Rebellion has Cedric behind bars!" the Spider protested. "I shouldn't have left Cavigor! I shouldn't have… left him alone."

"That would have only resulted in you getting captured too. Or worse, killed;" Charles told her as calmly as he could. "I doubt you could have survived the prison's fall without a healing ability as strong as Cedric's. And as you have heard Cyrus tell us, the Rebellion won't risk losing all the information he possesses. As of now, he is safe."

"Yes, but for how long will that be?" Cyrus asked of his oldest brother. "We all know that, once the war is won, the people will ask for his head as much as they will ask for the Prince's, trial and the Mage's promises be damned. And none of us will have any chance to help him, else we risk blowing up our covers and ruining the plan's Phase Two before it even begins."

"We could appeal to the Rebellion's ego in that scenery," Charles suggested. "Tell them that in order to be better and nobler than the Prince, they must act better and nobler than he did with his own prisoners."

"We could try, but I doubt my 'Drake' would come unscathed from that;" Cyrus explained, referring to his faked identity as if it was a role for a play. "It's hard to make an argument in favor of a man that killed your mother and don't arise any suspicion around you. And the Rebellion doesn't exactly regard you as trustworthy."

Charles continued to drum his wooden fingers against the table. For a second, his eyes became of a fiery orange color, and his wooden fingers first scratched the table, then nailed themselves on it. "Argh…" he grumbled, eyes returning to their usual abnormal coloration, and he pulled his fingers out of the table. True, his brother would be safe until Phase One finalized, but if what Cyrus had said came to pass, then they risked losing Cedric midway through Phase Two. And Charles couldn't tolerate that. This family has already sacrificed enough, he thought. Yet, at the same time, prioritizing Cedric over the plan could ruin all the progress they had made. Decisions, decisions…

"Then what do we do?" Miranda wondered.

Charles pondered his options. There should be a way… there must be one! "We must… focus into making the war end as soon as possible, as we have been doing since I joined this Rebellion," the eldest brother of the Ludmoore family declared.

"Wouldn't that work against us?" Cyrus wondered. "Against Cedric's safety?"

"Not necessarily," Charles explained. "Yes, the commoners and rebels will ask for Cedric's head, and yes, the Mage's are probably empty promises. But, in the case any execution takes place, they will wish to make it public. And knowing your friend Caleb, the words he exchanged with Aldarn during their duel, how he is behaving as of late… and the plan the Guardians and young Jade Chan crafted for him, he will prioritize reinstating the kingdom's peace and order over anything else, even if he does ultimately agree to an execution. And of course, there will also be the word of the new Queen to take into consideration, but we can expect that it will be a slow process. After all, it takes time for a new ruling body to reorganize and regain control of an entire nation, especially after a war;" Charles smirked. "And let's not forget that we will be part of that ruling body, too."

"And that gives us the time and freedom to adapt," Cyrus deduced as his lips curved into a smirk of their own. "And also the power to act."

"And if Cedric's execution becomes an inevitability…" Charles sentenced; "then we will jump straight to Phase Three."

Miranda cleared her throat. "And how do you suggest we do all that?"

Charles' smirk widened. "Well, the written word has always been a favored weapon of our family;" he said. Then, after thinking for a few moments, he added; "Miranda, you are going to write two letters…"

Across the Veil

Japan; Mariko Takeda's apartment

One day later

"What do we do now?" Mariko Takeda, clad in her old pink pajamas as she usually was when in her home, asked of her mentor while she, Liam and the sorceress Nimue sat at a table in her flat's kitchen. There was a bowl full of cherries at its center, and Nimue had picked two of them, playing with the tiny fruits between her fingers. "Teacher?"

For the first time in decades, or perhaps centuries, the ancient witch Nimue found herself unable to answer those questions. When Mariko and Liam had returned from Meridian, she had expected, at least, two possibilities. Either they had been able to retrieve Ikazuki's Mask, or not. What she hadn't been expecting was for them to return not only without the Mask, but also with terrible news.

They had seen Mariko's face. Those children, who understood nothing, now knew Mariko's face. They knew her identity, and so did Liam's. They probably knew that they had operated under her instructions, too. If the Guardians were suspicious of her before, then they would be ever more so now.

How should she proceed? By just coming clean with the Guardians, explaining her plan regarding not only the Oni but also the Eight Demon Sorcerers and demon-kind as a whole? No, that wouldn't get her anywhere. Even if they agreed to help her, she had met enough generations of Guardians to know that they would want something in return. They would probably ask for her to cross the Veil into Meridian with them and she couldn't do that because, ironically, Himerish had forbid her from getting herself involved into his Guardians' affairs. Uhm… Maybe she should simply assault that vault in San Francisco, and destroy the Masks there and then? But the people working there would probably try to stop her, and she didn't want to risk harming any innocent in an unnecessary crossfire. And there were still two Masks missing, wherever they were.

If only I could have been there, she thought, and those words helped her to have an idea. "We will wait a little," Nimue said, advocating for patience as she usually did. Who had told her that patience was the mother of success? "Until the situation in Meridian is dealt with, and the Veil is lifted."

"And then?" Liam asked, ever so inquisitive. Nimue could understand why, though. Patience wasn't an issue for her, who had lived for over a millennia. After all, she had all the time in the world. Her proteges did not.

"Then we will become more active," she explained, tossing the two cherries into her mouth. "And we will search for new allies. Some fresh blood will do us good." The woman swallowed and spat the seeds of the cherries into her open palm. She clenched it and, after a little bit of magic ran through her hand, she opened it to reveal how the pair of seeds had become a miniaturized tree within her palm. "Well, not exactly fresh…"

At the same time

United States of America; San Francisco

Section 13

Captain Augustus Black, chief of Section 13, sat behind the desk of his office, staring at his computer's screen. In it, the four faces of his immediate superiors stared back at him.

"Everything has been progressing well, then?" Mrs. Foster asked from the top-right of Captain Black's computer screen.

"Yes, ma'am;" Captain Black informed. "As you can read in the twenty-third page of my report, Kepler and his team have been able to make remarkable advances into not only reverse engineering the Dark Hand's... eh..." Captain Black flocked through some papers over his desk, "magically-powered, light-based heat-weapons..."

"You can call them laser-weapons, Captain;" Mr. Folkner, his face occupying the top-left of the screen, spoke.

"Right," Captain Black accepted. "As I was saying, Kepler has, on top of the progress into reverse-engineering the Dark Hand's laser-weapons; also made some interesting breakthroughs into applying the magically crafted source of energy of the weapons into some of his own devices. According to him, as I quote in the next page of the report;" the bald man added as he read from another of the papers over his desk. "'This magical source of energy, so easily produced by combining an easily acquirable mineral with an easily written rune, can be applied not only to weaponry, but theoretically to every form of technology. For all intents and purposes the Dark Hand has invented a viable way to produce a nearly endless amount of completely clean energy'." Captain Black paused for a moment. "He also asks for permission to start running experiments by using a far greater amount of obsidian in order to see if it can power larger devices."

"We will discuss that later," Mr. Folkner said. "Mr. Comstock, I believe we have some more good news from Washington?"

"Indeed," the other man said almost cheerfully from the top-left section of the screen.

"I take that the Freemasons won't be a problem?" Mrs. Foster inquired.

"We have reached an… agreement of sorts;" Mr. Comstock explained, rubbing his grassy hair. "They have decided to stop hoarding mystical artifacts and hand over the ones they have under their possession to Section 13. Most of their operatives in charge of dealing with anything related to magic will also be transferred to our organization. In exchange, we won't expose neither their existence, nor the identities of the people in public office that belong to their ranks."

"Excellent," Mr. Folkner said, pleased. "Anything else to report?"

"The Oni Mask Silla sent from Heatherfield," Captain Black informed; "has already arrived and been stored into The Vault with the rest and the Talismans."

"How many does that make now?" old Mr. Harris asked, adjusting his tiny glasses. "Five? Six?"

"Seven, sir;" Captain Black corrected.

"I don't think it's wise to have all those Masks stored in a single place," Mrs. Foster said. "The San Francisco HQ has already suffered several security breaches, and that was just when the Talismans were there. Each of these Oni Masks grant control of an army. That can be quite… tempting."

"True," Mr. Harris addressed her; "but the Dark Hand hasn't tried to attack our facilities directly ever since Valmont and those three goons tried -unsuccessfully, may I remind you- to steal the Talismans, if that was a Dark Hand plot at all."

"And unfortunately, we lack facilities with the same level of security as our facility of San Francisco… for now;" Mr. Folkner said. "That will change soon, but until then the Masks and the Talismans are safe where they are. Anything else of importance anyone would like to bring to the table?" the bald man with the thick eyebrows asked of the Captain and his three fellow bureaucrats. Nobody said a thing. "Then this meeting is over. Everyone will continue with their assigned tasks and we will meet in another two weeks. Captain?"

"Yes, sir?" Captain Black asked of his superior.

"Excellent work," Victor Folkner said with a smile. Then, one by one, the four sections that Captain Black's screen was divided into faded to black. Seconds later, Captain Black's computer screen had returned back to normal.

Augustus Black leaned back in his chair, letting out a loud sigh and rubbing his temples. The bald man incorporated, walked a bit around the room, and then stopped in front of his desk. He rubbed his back before returning to his chair and sitting down again.

"I need a new chair..." he mumbled as he moved his mouse in order to dispel the bubbles that served as his computer's screensaver. This one wasn't doing his back any good.

He had never understood why so many of the people he had worked with during his time as an agent of the Interpol idealized office work so much, as if it was the Garden of Eden in comparison with field-work. In the Captain's opinion, the former could be as tiresome as the latter, if not more so. Regardless, duty was duty; and he knew perfectly what he was getting himself into when he had accepted to lead Section 13. So he began clicking and pressing keys on his keyboard, occasionally taking notes into a little notebook at hid computer's side, and filling some more paperwork.

Half an hour and many 'clicks' later, Captain Black found himself having finished his office work for the day. He rose to his feet again, walked towards the shelf at his desk's right and poured himself a mug of cold coffee from a jug that was over it. By the time he had made it back to his seat, the coffee-mug was half-empty. Leaving the mug over the desk, Captain Black clicked into an archive file. The time for duty was over. Which meant it was time to do a favor for an old friend.

Mariko Takeda, Captain Black read the name that served as the title of the file in his mind. A file detailing the life of this Japanese young woman. He had read the entirety of it once already. Now he did it another two times. And he hadn't found anything suspicious or even remarkable, aside from a pretty solid career in medicine. Nothing out of the ordinary, no criminal records, no scandalous news. The same could be said about her father, Foreman. The only thing that seemed to be mildly suspicious and intriguing was that there were no records about who her mother was, but aside from that… nothing. What I'm supposed to see here, Jackie? he thought. What do you want me to find?

"Captain?" an agent by the door took him out of his thoughts and back to reality.

Startled, the Captain's eyes left the screen and focused into the man. "What is it?"

"There's a package for you, sir;" the man answered, holding said package in his hand. A small package, no bigger than an adult's face, wrapped in dull brown paper.

"From whom?" Captain Black asked as he leaned back on his chair one more time.

"It doesn't say, sir;" the agent answered.

Captain Black frowned. Very few people could send a package to Section 13, since very few people knew that it existed. And the ones who could didn't have any reason to do hide their names. "Did you run the usual…?"

"We already analyzed and scanned it, sir;" the agent informed as he approached the desk. He left the package over it. "No explosives, no poisons, no microphones or any other kind of electronic devices. If I may take a guess?" the agent asked, upon which Black nodded. "I think it's jut a book," the man said, then turned on his heels and left.

Captain Black unwrapped the packet once the agent had left. To his surprise, it was a book. An old notebook, to be exact. Accompanied by a note tied to it by a bit of tape. The Captain leaf through the book without really reading it. He saw entries with dates, and little notes written at the pages' margins. A journal? A diary? He picked the note next, and read.

To the Captain,

I know we've had our differences. You're a man that lives by the book, I burned it long ago. But I respect you. I trust you. You're one of the few men in God's Green Earth that I trust. I found something, Captain. I got a hunch. So I'm going to confront someone about it. And there's a chance I won't be coming back. So I'll leave all I know written in my diary. All the information I got, everything those bastards probably know I got, and everything they don't. Don't show it to anyone you don't trust. Follow the trail, Captain. There's something bigger going on. Don't let the scum put a blindfold around your eyes. And goodbye.

Quentin Ross

Across the Veil

An abandoned meridianite farm

Drago, Son of Shendu, tossed a bloody piece of raw meat into his maw. Munching, he lied down into the grass. He had been lucky to find this farm, and even luckier to find it emptied. He wondered why whoever had lived here before had left, especially with such urgency that they had left three sheep, a cow and a pig behind; all in perfect health. The water from the well wasn't that bad, either. Ah, maybe this was the result of that war he had heard so much about?

He had run like there was no tomorrow once he had escaped from Cavigor, determined to put as much distance between himself and that miserable hole as possible; only stopping in order to see the damn building crumble to dust. He had run and run… until he had found himself here. Hungry. Thirsty. Exhausted. Hurt. And with a few animals and a well full of drinking water at his reach.

The first thing he had done was drink. He had even toyed with the idea of jumping into the well. Then he had slaughtered and eaten the three sheep. Then he had slept. And when the hunger had awoken him, he had devoured the cow. Then he drank a little more. Then back to sleep. How much time he had slept that time… he didn't know. When he had had woken up again, he felt a hundred times better than all those days he had awoken within Cavigor for sixteen years. Sixteen! Years! And now he was eating the pig.

He jumped to his feet when he finished eating, licking the blood from his lips. Then he stretched his arms, legs and tail, and cracked both his neck and fingers. "Ah… there's nothing some actual decent food and some good sleep can't fix, is there?" he asked to no one, flashing a delighted grin. "Time to get back in business!" True, he still wasn't in peak condition… but he was sure he was strong enough to finally leave Meridian behind. He wondered what had changed on Earth during these past sixteen years. Oh well, he knew about one thing that had changed. The old man was dead. He couldn't avoid chuckling upon remembering that.

Drago swung his arms a couple of times. Then he pointed his right claw onward, and concentrated deeply, tapping into the demonic power within himself. Careful… careful… Even for a half-demon, for the son of a Demon Sorcerer, this was a complicated thing to do. Eyes closed, he made his power to concentrate in his palm.

"And… fold!" he said as he swung it… just for nothing to happen. "What?! Fold!" he said angrily, repeating the motion. "Fold, I say! Why isn't it…?!" he began to ask as he tried to open a Fold in space for the third time.

This time, however, Drago found himself getting zapped by a torrent of energy that emanated from the spot in the air over which he had swung his claw. The energy, that manifested itself as some sort of bluish-white lighting bolt, ran through Drago's entire body, hurting him more than anything else in the entire universe could.

Screaming, the Son of Shendu knelt in pain. He looked at his palm, which had been left slightly burned. "Quintessence…" he hissed. He extended his claw and closed his eyes once again, but this time he didn't concentrate in the magic within himself, but the magic around him. He had been expecting to find a flowing river… but he found himself crashing into a wall.

"A Veil," he muttered as he rose. "Of course there's a freaking Veil."

So that was the reason that redhead couldn't use her element. Part of her and her pals' energy must be being redirected to form a Veil around this world. Had he underestimated the scope of this conflict? He didn't have a lot of information to work with, after all. Being imprisoned for so many years would do that to you, and it wasn't as if Calisto and Sidriss had been very talkative.

Anyways, there was a Veil around this world. And that meant that Drago couldn't leave unless he found a Portal by mere chance or he found an artifact designed to or a sorcerer skillful or powerful enough to open one. Which meant that, at least for now, he would be stranded in Meridian some more time.

He glanced back at the farm. He had a place to stay for the moment, and also a source of water. Which meant that his immediate concern now was finding something else to eat. And if he found a Portal along the way, then all the better. This wouldn't deter him in the slightest.

If there's something I'm sure that I am, that's a survivor; Drago thought as he walked towards the farm's main building.

Meridian's wild

The Archduchess' camp

Moving an army consisting of more than one-thousand soldiers across Meridian's wilderness wasn't an easy task, especially when it was expected of said army to work in perfect coordination with another and appear at the right moment in order to strike the enemy from its rear. Messenger birds came almost every day, bringing information about how things progressed in the camp on the Meridian Planes, usually written by Duke Jedah, and went back with messages written by the Archduchess that contained information regarding her current whereabouts and the condition her forces were in. This had become a routine. Every time that a new message arrived, one of her soldiers would bring it to her, she would read it, write a response and hand it to the same soldier that had brought it in order the new message to be sent back to the other nobles' camp.

Today, however, had been a complete break from the routine; for this time two messages had come with the bird. The first of those messages was the same as usual: a report from the Duke. The second, however, shook the Archduchess to her core. It was a simple letter, but she recognized the writing style immediately. And as soon as she did, she ordered her soldier out of her tent and she sat down, tears of happiness forming in her eyes as she read.

It had been Ishol's hand that had written this letter.

"She is alive," Archduchess Galiene said tearfully. "My daughter is alive…"

She quickly read the rest of the letter. In it her daughter detailed how her and Servantis had been taken prisoner after Torus Filney had been sacked, how she had taken advantage of some conflict that had arisen amidst the Rebellion in order to escape alongside her husband, and how they had met with Viceroy Khenel and been escorted to the camp at the Meridian Plains.

Then, however, Ishol's writing became blurry, as if written by a shaky hand. As the Archduchess read and read further, her smile twisted into a furious scowl, her eyes bulged with anger, and her hand gripped the letter so strongly that it soon became a wrinkled ball of paper.

The Archduchess shrieked. She jumped out of her seat and flipped the table that was in front of her with a single kick. By the time three of her underlings came into her tent, the maps, quills and inkwells that were spread over the table were on the ground.

"My lady?" one of the soldiers asked.

"I will kill them!" the Archduchess yelled, furious; as she stomped into one of the inkwells and shattered it. Her daughter. Her little girl! Raped! By one of those… one of those filthy pigs! Those dammed barbarians! That rebel scum! Ah, she should have squashed that Rebellion years before, even if it had taken all the lives of Blackrock Island! Oh, she would kill them! More than kill them! She would have all the survivors of any incoming battle tortured to death! No more compassion! No honor to those who didn't have any! "I will kill them!" she repeated.

"I will kill them all!"

The Capital's streets

At the same time

Captain Lothar was walking through the streets of the Capital, alone. It had been a long time since he had done something like this. Patrolling the streets was something that wasn't expected of a Lieutenant, much less from the Captain of the Guard, after all. But the young Captain supposed it wouldn't bother anybody, and it would do well for his men's morale to see him overseeing operations. And besides, he needed to see someone.

Everything was progressing as planned, anyway. The commoners would soon be fully evacuated from the Capital, away from the Prince's grasp and any possible attack the Rebellion would make against them. Not that he didn't trust the nobles' ability to crush the rebels in the Meridian Plains, but… well, better play it safe. And when the Rebellion was crushed, then the nobility and the Guard would depose Phobos and deal with the Lurdens, and… and next they would see how to proceed. Would the young Princess become the new Queen? Would that be enough to placate the fury of the people of this world, that for almost fourteen years had suffered under the Prince's rule, Cedric's laws and Wong's crimes against nature?

And let's not forget my own deeds, he thought.

First, there had been Sonder Hill. He wondered where the town's inhabitants had gone after he had ordered Frost to destroy their homes. Although he had insisted that none of them would do so, most of Sonder Hill's inhabitants had probably joined the Rebellion out of a desire of righteous revenge for everything they had lost… no, that he had taken from them. Then there had been donning that cursed Mask and getting possessed by whatever unholy being resided within the artifact. And then his failure at helping defend Torus Filney… and losing Tynar.

Too many failures. Too many mistakes. Could his recent actions truly serve as atonement for his sins?

His train of thought was interrupted when he arrived at his destination, a two stories tall house in some narrow street of the Capital. Tynar's house. His family's house. Lothar had wondered if his late Lieutenant's wife and child would still be around or if they would have already been evacuated, so he felt a little surprised when he found Tynar's wife, Anna, getting some sack into a cart with a Hoogong tied to its front in order to pull from it. Young Tash, Tynar's little boy, was already inside the cart, eating an apple. It was him who saw him first.

"Captain!" Tash greeted him happily, standing up in the cart.

Anna, however, glared at Lothar in the moment she spotted him. "What are you doing here?" the chubby, middle-aged Galhot woman asked in a far from friendly tone.

"I..." Lothar began, but hesitated. He... what? Wanted to say sorry for the loss of her husband? To ask for their forgiveness? Again? "I have come to bid you farewell, and wish you a safe journey."

"And you just did," the woman declared harshly as she adjusted the reins of the Hoogong. "You can go now."

"Ma'am, your husband…" Lothar began.

"Tash, can you bring a cloak from my room?" the mother asked of her son, who quickly jumped from the cart and dashed into the house after letting out a confident 'Yes, mama!'. As soon as he ha disappeared, Anna turned to glare at Lothar. "I knew my husband better than you could ever have, Captain Lothar;" the woman told the Captain. "There's nothing you can say about him that I don't know. That he was brave? That he was kind? That he was noble? I know that, I knew since the first moment I crossed eyes with him. That he didn't deserve what happened to him? That it should have been you? Light of Meridian be damned if I don't know that," she said as her face hardened and her eyes became teary. "Light, Abyss and whatever other gods and goddesses exists in all of creation, Lothar; if I didn't know his stupid face, his big, rough, gentle hands, and the sound of his voice better than you will ever do," the woman said, her voice trembling. "What could you ever tell me about my Tynar that I don't already know?!"

Lothar breathed deeply. "That he was a good friend," he said. "That he was wiser than me, and that if I had listened to him many of the horrible things that have happened wouldn't have. That everything I have done, taking the commoners out of the Capital, taking the Guard out of the Palace… was in his honor. That the reason all of you won't be harmed when the rebels come," or when the moment to depose the Prince comes, he added in his thoughts; "it shall be thanks to him. Tell that to your son," Lothar asked of her as he took the bracelet that had once belonged to Tynar off and handed it to her; "tell him that his father did more for the people of Meridian than any of us ever did."

The Galhot woman took the bracelet and clutched it into her hand. Lothar then bowed his head respectfully. Sighing heavily, Anna bowed her head in return. And then the Captain of the Guard, having done what he had come here to do, turned on his heels and left, leaving the woman and her son be.

The Infinite City; a day later

"How is he?" Caleb, son of Julian, asked of Sephiria, daughter of Sarah; upon entering the room. A long, rectangular chamber only occupied by a single bed, and that reeked of the same strong smell that characterized the various ointments that the Faithful of the Light of Meridian used in order to heal the injured. Over the bed, chest slowly going up and down with each breath, lied an unconscious Aldarn.

"He is… better. Far better than how he was when the Chi Wizards brought him here," the young lass said as he eyes left the form of the sleeping half-breed and focused on the rebel leader. "His wounds have bee treated, and his body is healing well. He really isn't in any worse condition than most of the others we Faithful have under our care, but…"

"But he won't wake up," Caleb said. "Uncle and Tohru told me this was likely to happen, that this is the effect that one of those accursed Masks have on people that wear them too long."

"We've been able to feed him water and some soup," Sephiria explained; "but I fear he won't be able to eat anything else until he wakes up."

"Thank you, Sephiria;" Caleb thanked the young leader of the Faithful. "I'll stay with him, you can go back with the rest of the priests. There are others who need more attention."

"If anything happens, send someone for me;" the green-haired teen girl said, dedicating a gentle smile at Caleb before she exited the room, leaving Caleb and the unconscious Aldarn alone.

As the nun left, the rebel leader paced around the room for a few moments before he approached the bed. With no chair or anything else he could use as one around, he took the sheathed Sword of Thanatos from his belt, and putting both hands over its pommel, he used it as if it were a cane.

"And here we are," Caleb told the unconscious Aldarn, knowing full well that he couldn't hear any word he uttered; "You and I, back together in this city that saw us grow since we were babies." Caleb took a good look at Aldarn. He looked past the bandages and the superficial wounds and bruises. He instead focused into Aldarn's pale skin and how sweaty he was. How, from time to time, he trembled, as if troubled by a bad dream or if he was going through a fever. Caleb had been told of the effect an Oni Mask had over the body of a host when removed, but this was his first time seeing it. More than wounded, he looked sick. "Light of Meridian… look what you've done to yourself;" Caleb said somberly. "Lurden spit, Aldarn; was really worth it? Did you hate me so much that it was worth it to let your soul be consumed by a demon?" The rebel leader chuckled darkly as he looked down at the sheathed Sword of the Berserker. "Not that I can talk a lot about getting one's soul consumed by a demon, can I?"

Caleb began pacing around the room again. "Why?" he asked aloud as he walked, Sword of Thanatos rattling against the greenish stone-floor of the Infinite City a he continued to use it as an improvised cane. "I still don't get it. I know you were hurt, I know you lost people. I lost them too. But… damn it Aldarn, was it so difficult to see reason? Was it really so impossible for you to let go of your hatred?Damn it all, you could've… you could've talked to me;" Caleb stopped and stared at his unconscious former friend once again. "Maybe I was the one who did wrong. Maybe I should have taken more time to discuss with you before making such extreme choices after Torus Filney, but…" the rebel leader sighed. "I don't know, I… I never meant to insult the memory of those we've lost. I just… I was trying to do the right thing. I… I don't know what else I can say." There were too many questions he wanted to ask. What would happen to Aldarn? Would he ever wake up? If he did, in which condition would he do so? And if he woke up, how should Caleb treat him? As a traitor? A friend that had lost his way? How would Aldarn react? Would he try to kill Caleb again? Would he try to apologize? Would he stay at his side, or go away? Too many questions, and no one could answer them. "Wasn't our friendship worth more?" the rebel leader asked sadly, and he felt tears burning in his eyes. I wish things would have been so different. Light of Meridian, if it wasn't for this stupid war, this stupid…

"Caleb."

Oh, no. Caleb thought as he heard and recognized the voice, his eyes widening in surprise. Not him. Not now, please.

"Caleb," he repeated. "Thank the Light of Meridian I have finally found you, I have spent hours looking for you."

Instead of paying him any attention, Caleb tied the Sword of Thanatos back to his belt, and dried his tears with a quick move of his arm. He breathed in and out. In and out. In and...

"Caleb," he said again. "Look at me, son. Please," he begged.

"And what do you want?" Caleb asked of his father as he turned on his heels. Uhm. That had come out harsher than intended. Caleb had tried to sound calm, to appear composed and not let his face to betray any emotion he may be feeling. Yet as soon as he turned around and looked at his father, he could feel the anger boiling within him.

Julian looked no different than how he had looked in the Underwater Mines, except for the little bandage over his nose and his new clothes, a pair of boots, dark pants, a white shirt and a light-brown vest over it. He had left the hair and beard uncut, to Caleb's surprise.

"I need to talk to you," Julian told his son. He gave a couple of steps towards Caleb, but stopped afterwards, keeping his distance. Instead of answering, Caleb regarded his father with a cold stare. Julian didn't say anything either, at least not right away. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, eyes going from his son, to the ground, to the side, and back to Caleb. He brought one of his hands to his bandaged nose, rubbing it a little. Finally, as if he had spent the last moments searching for enough bravery to say the words, he spoke.

"You... know about what happened at Carhaiz, don't you?" Julian asked.

"Carhaiz?" Caleb asked dryly, his green eyes narrowing as he folded his arms. "Oh, you mean the town full of innocent people you burned to the ground. That Carhaiz? Yes," Caleb said far more aggressively; "I know."

Now it was the turn for Julian's eyes to narrow. "We weren't there to burn Carhaiz, we..."

"But it burned, did it not?" Caleb cut Julian's words short. "And the people that lived there died, did they not?"

"That is..." Julian trailed off, before taking a deep breath. "You don't understand."

"Then make me understand," Caleb demanded. "Haven't you come here to talk? Then, go on, talk. Explain it to me. Explain to me what really happened at Carhaiz."

And Julian did. He told his son everything that had happened that fearful night. From him returning from his audience with the town's leaders, to the suggestion to destroy it from one of his own rebels, to the madness that had ensued, to Julian saving the young, white-haired boy and him getting spared by Raythor and sent to the Underwater Mines. Of course, he omitted some details. The corpse of the child that had fallen over him and the young woman he had killed, of those he didn't speak about. To Julian's surprise, however, once his tale had finished Caleb let out a dark, bitter laugh.

"Raythor… Raythor spared your life!" Caleb laughed darkly. "You're alive… because of him! And because of Tristan! You're alive because of them!"

"I… I don't…" a confused Julian babbled. Tristan? Was that the name of the white-haired child? "Why are you laughing?"

"Because it's funny!" Caleb answered after letting out another dark, bitter laugh. "The only reason you're still alive is thanks to a boy whose parents died because of you, and to Raythor! A man that I hated because I thought he killed you! And we blamed him for a crime he didn't commit and he got thrown into the Abyss of Shadows! And you're alive and here today… because of them! You! A murderer of innocents!" Caleb laughed again, yet this time the laughter died in his throat before coming out.

Julian's hands clenched into fists. He had expected every reaction from his son, except that one. How many nights in the Underwater Mines had he dreamed of this moment? Of talking with his boy again? Of embracing him once more? Yet here he was, and his son was mocking the darkest moment of his life. Why couldn't he understand? "I. Am. Not. A. Murderer." he said slowly. Flashes of the dying young woman he had killed at Carhaiz crossed his mind. Liar, liar! a little, impish voice seemed to say in his head. "I didn't enter Carhaiz with the intention of killing its denizens! The idea of destroying it wasn't even mine! I didn't…!"

"Who gave the order?" Caleb asked coldly, giving a couple of steps towards his father, looking him directly in the eye. "The order to march over the town," Caleb explained; "who gave it? Tell me it wasn't you. Tell me, and this talk will end. I'll apologize for breaking your nose, I'll hug you, we'll go and drink something and I will tell you about what's been going on around here in your absence. Who gave the order?"

But Julian couldn't say that, for he knew it not to be true. It didn't matter how many times his mind went back to that moment, and who he tried to put the blame onto; it was all the same. He had given the order. Yes, the idea hadn't been his. Yes, he had not ignited the fire. But he had given the order. He, and he alone.

Caleb took his silence as an affirmative answer to his question. "Get out of my sight," the son ordered the father, turning his back on him.

"Caleb, I…" Julian began. "There was no other option."

"It took me more than a decade to learn this, father. But there is always another option," Caleb uttered as a counterargument.

Anger grew within Julian now. Frowning, the father approached the son this time. "And what other option did I have? Let Carhaiz alone, let the nobles use it to spearhead our end?" Julian felt his blood boiling, and he stomped forward. "You can't be furious with me over that!"

"You think I'm furious with you only because of Carhaiz?!" Caleb yelled as he turned around once more. His son's movement caught Julian off-guard, making him to lose some balance and give a step backwards. "You think that after I learned about it I didn't go asking around?! You think that after I witnessed Rhouglar boasting about raping a woman I didn't interrogate his underlings for more information?! You think I don't know about the atrocities he committed in the villages near Frozen Peak?! You think I didn't do the same when Tharquin tortured one of my friends for hours?! You think I wouldn't notice that every time he freed a Shapeshifter he had drove to near-madness, it was near villages or towns in enemy territory?!" Caleb stopped talking and took several deep breaths. "I'm not furious at you just because of Carhaiz. I'm furious, because you let monsters join our cause, while telling us we were heroes!"

That took Julian by complete surprise. He had come here expecting to confront Caleb about Carhaiz, not about… everything else. "I didn't know..."

"Oh, you didn't know!" Caleb shouted. "How convenient, isn't it?! Because if you don't know, you aren't responsible! But I know you, father. And you're no fool. You knew exactly what they were."

Julian snorted. His anger reached its breaking point. "And what was I meant to do?!" he yelled. "The Rebellion had just been born! The nobility had more resources than us! More soldiers! The Prince had the Guard and the Lurdens, and a court of monsters! We needed help! Any help! And we needed for the people of this world to stop supporting Phobos' servants and support us! And don't dare you believe I didn't try every other option that was available, but they wouldn't listen! They only listened to fear! And fear it's what I gave them! Because it needed to be done!" Julian shouted at the top of his lungs. "It was necessary!"

"No, it was WRONG!" Caleb bellowed, grabbing Julian by his vest. Tears were rolling from his eyes, and his face was twisted by anguish. "YOU! WERE! WRONG! WE! WERE! WRONG! To trade innocent lives for meaningless victories!" Caleb dragged Julian to the bed Aldarn was lying in. "Look at this! Do you see this?!"

"It's… it's Aldarn…" Julian muttered, recognizing his son's closest friend. He had failed to notice him, lying over the bed, as he had focused all of his attention into Caleb. "What happened to him?"

"You happened! You and your tales about how we were heroes, and how everyone who dared to stand in our way were nothing but villains!" Caleb shouted, pushing his father away from Aldarn and himself. "When I made alliances with members of the nobility, he couldn't tolerate it! And he used a demonic artifact to try and kill me! Look what that made to him!" the rebel leader stomped towards his father once more. "I don't even know what the tactical advantage of using people like Rhouglar and Tharquin ever was! What do you think would have happened had we won with your methods?! We would've ended facing a new rebellion born out of all the people whose lives we ruined!"

"You… you have made deals with the nobles?!" Julian shouted with renewed anger, completely missing the point of his son's words. "Are you insane?! They are…!"

"If you say the words 'Servants of the Tyrant' father, I swear, I'll break more than your nose this time!" Caleb yelled in turn.

"They sided with the Usurper!" Julian continued to shout. "They are the main reason he is in power, and now… what?! You are going to forgive and forget their crimes?! To let them walk unpunished?!"

"It's not about forgiving or forgetting, it's about giving them the chance to atone!" Caleb continued once more.

"They don't deserve the chance to atone!" Julian argued.

"THEN NEITHER DO WE!" Caleb bellowed one more time, silencing Julian once and for all. "And surely neither do you," he spat.

Julian was left with his mouth wide-open, words unable to come out even if he wanted to. He closed his mouth and stared at Caleb. It was only now that he noticed the fact that his son was slightly taller than he was. Nearly three years in the Mines, that's what Vathek had told him. Three years was… a long time. A long time to grow… and long time to change. Julian had walked towards Caleb on the Underwater Mines thinking that he would be the same boy he had left behind years ago. Now he found himself looking at a man that couldn't be more different than how his son was.

"That's why…" Caleb began, calmer, yet with tears still falling from his green eyes. "That's why," he repeated, drying them with his sleeve; "you're allowed to be part of this Rebellion once again. But you won't be a part of the Small Council. You won't be able to give orders to anyone." Caleb walked past Julian. "I won't let you ruin everything we've achieved when we're so close to ending this war."

"Caleb…" Julian tried to plead.

"No!" Caleb silenced him. "Just… just leave me alone," he sentenced, leaving the room.

Julian stood where he had been left, only the sound of Aldarn's breathing keeping him company. "Lurden spit…" he cursed.

Across the Veil; Two days later

Heatherfield; Shell Beach

Midday

"So your training's going well?" Will Vandom asked of her boyfriend. She was clad in a light-green, two-piece swimsuit and the Heart of Kandrakar hanging from her neck; sitting over a towel alongside Matt at Shell beach; the sun shining over their heads.

The teen at her side, clad in a pair of dark blue trunks, shrugged. "It's going pretty neat, if you ask me;" Matt said with a cocky grin. He watched his girlfriend smile as well. He made his shoulder to friendly collide with hers. "In fact, I bet I could give you a run for your money!" he joked.

"What?" Will asked after letting out a laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am!" Matt joked. "Give me a couple more of Jackie's classes, and I'll be the best Kung-Fu fighter ever."

"You told me you aren't exactly learning Kung-Fu," Will said, smirking.

"Well... no. It's more like... a little bit of everything? Like MMA, but not exactly," Matt explained. "But my point still stands!"

"Oh, really?" the redhead asked mischievously. She then jumped to her feet and walked towards the sea.

"What are you doing?" Matt asked as he also came to his feet and began following on Will's steps.

"Come on!" the redhead, already getting her feet wet, urged the teenage boy; "I want to show you something!"

Once the two of them got into the ocean, they swam. They swam until they reached one of the Shell Beach's edges, where a large rock formation rose. There, Will stopped swimming and so did Matt.

"This is what you wanted to show me?" the teenage guitarist asked, looking at the rock formation in confusion.

"No," Will said, grabbing the boy's face between her hands. "You can dive, yes?"

"Yeah," Matt said, nodding.

"Good," she said, grabbing him by his arm and going underwater.

Matt took into a big breath of air, and he sank. Will guided him underwater, until the light of the sun over them disappeared only to reappear soon afterwards, only far weaker. When Will and Matt emerged from the sea, both of them found themselves in a large sea-cave. Its walls were of black rock and its only source of light a hole in its top that let the sunlight in. Interestingly, most of the cave was filled with sand, giving them enough place to stand over after getting out of the water. It was if they had a mini-beach all to themselves.

"How did you know this was here?" Matt asked.

"I found this place by chance a couple of months after I arrived on Heatherfield," Will explained, stretching her arms. "I was swimming, and I went diving a little and… I just found it."

Matt nodded, then he actually thought about what his girlfriend had said. "Wait, you went to the beach in like… autumn? Winter?"

Will shrugged. "Hey, sea's always warmer than outside of it."

"You're crazy," Matt joked.

"Whatever you say," Will said, downplaying what her boyfriend had said as she finished stretching. "Okay, I'm ready. Show me your moves."

"What?" a confused Matt asked. "You want to fight in here?"

"No one's going to see us here," Will explained as she grinned. "Besides, you're the one who said that you could kick my ass, so let's put that to the test."

"You sure?" Matt asked with a grin of his own. "You may be able to morph into a super-heroine, but if you're not transformed aren't you… a normal human being?"

"Trust me, you won't be hurting me;" Will told him. "But if you want to…"

Suddenly, Matt kicked some sand into the air, blinding Will momentarily. As the redhead closed her eyes and shielded her face instinctively, Matt tackled her. Both teenagers fell to the ground, Will first and Matt on top of her.

"Gotcha," Matt said.

"That's cheating!" Will protested. "Jackie didn't teach you that!"

"No, it was Viper;" Matt admitted quite proudly. "And it isn't cheating, it's being smart."

Will rolled her eyes. "Smart, eh?" she said playfully, and then delivered a kiss directly into Matt's lips. The action took the other teenager by surprise, and made him to lose enough strength for Will to reverse their positions.

"Who's got whom now?" Will, on top of Matt now, wondered proudly.

"Okay, that's not cheating, that's just… dirty;" Matt complained. Then, imitating Will's own move, he proceeded to kiss her.

"That isn't going to work on me," Will said, albeit her cheeks blushed a bit.

"I know," Matt declared. Then kissed Will again, but that action didn't surprise the redhead in the slightest. "I just wanted to do it."

Will's blushing intensified, but she returned Matt's kiss. In a matter of seconds, both teens were making out over the sand, rolling over it, and giggling. In the end, they ended up laying side by side, staring at the hole on top of the sea-cave and letting the sunlight that entered through it to bathe them.

"Christ, I love this;" Will said, smiling from ear to ear.

"Don't you mean you love me?" Matt asked jokingly.

"You know what I meant," Will told her boyfriend using the same tone he had used.

It was in moments like these that Will felt like how she supposed an actual teenager should be feeling. No worries about warring, or building alliances, or scheming wizards. Just… having fun. She wondered what could happen once the Rebellion made its big move against the nobility. How her plan regarding the Browns and Elyon would go. How things would develop once… everything was over. Damn it, she hadn't thought bout that, had she? About what would happen once the war was over. Would the girls and her still be Guardians? Or their lives would go on until the next horrible thing popped out from around the corner, or…

"Will," Matt whispered in her ear, taking her out of her thoughts. Something for which she was actually grateful.

"Yeah?" the redhead whispered back.

"My back's full of wet sand," Matt said.

Will laughed. "Mine too."

"We should've brought the towel."

"We'll get clean when we swim out of here," the redhead told the teen. "I'm actually more worried about someone stealing the towel than anything else."

"Who'd steal a towel?" Matt asked.

"Good point," Will said.

After a couple of minutes, they stood up and swam back to the beach. When they emerged, they found themselves laughing their asses off. A couple of kids had stolen their towel… in order to use it as a makeshift banner for their sandcastle.

It was the little things…

A room on a hotel

At the same time

Jackie Chan awoke slowly. The first thing his senses noticed was a pleasant smell, akin to the odor of fresh gardenias after some rain. Then he opened his eyes, letting his sight to accustom itself to the dimly lit hotel room, its only source of light the few rays of sunlight that entered through a window with a half-lowered blind. He stare at the ceiling for what felt like a blissful eternity, then let out a yawn. Next he felt movement at his right.

"Are you awake?" he asked of Viper as the woman, lying at his side, made herself nearer to him.

"I just woke up," the ex-thief told him as she snuggled at his side.

"What time is it?" Jackie asked.

"Don't know, don't care;" Viper said, eyes still closed. "It's our free day, we don't have to go anywhere."

In response, Jackie's stomach grumbled. "True… but I believe it's time to have breakfast," he said funnily.

"Fine," Viper said, getting out of bed. "I'll call room service."

Jackie looked at her walk out of bed and towards the phone. He couldn't avoid chuckling. "Maybe we should take a shower and put on some clothes before?"

"You're not fun, you know?" Viper joked, then tilted her head. "But the shower's a good idea. I'll wait you there," she said, getting inside the hotel room's bathroom.

Jackie laughed, laying over the bed. He felt… well, saying that he felt happy would be an understatement. It wasn't as if Jackie Chan was a stranger to romance. He had been in several relationships with women in the past, but… well, he had known they wouldn't last long. Job, family… for Jackie those had always been a priority over his personal love-life. Maybe that was the reason all his relationships until this point had failed? But with Viper he felt… different. Maybe it was the fact that she was part of the same world as he was? Well, not the world of archaeology, at least not in a usual sense; but yes the one that involved magical creatures and getting targeted by criminal organizations.

Or maybe this was the first time in his life that Jackie Chan had fallen genuinely in love.

Letting out another laughter, the archeologist got out of the bed and made his way towards the bathroom.

Afternoon

A basketball court

"Okay sis, try to bend your wrists forward a little bit when you throw the ball;" Peter Cook instructed his little sister.

Taranee, holding an orange basketball, ran for a few moments before throwing it towards the backboard. The basketball hit the board and went through the basket after bouncing a little in the hoop.

"Hey!" Peter said happily. "That was pretty good! High five, sis!"

"Thanks," Taranee thanked her brother, slapping her open hand against his.

"Say, you never showed interest in basketball before;" Peter said as he picked the ball and bounced it a couple of times against the ground; "or any other sport, for that matter. You gonna pick up basket now?"

"No, I just wanted to spend some time with my big bro," Taranee explained, brushing a droplet of sweat from her brow and adjusting her glasses afterwards.

"Aw, that's so sweet;" Peter said with a silly smile. "So you're not gonna stop being a bookworm?"

Taranee frowned, and bumped her shoulder against Peter's. "You said it as if being a bookworm was a bad thing."

"Hey, I'm just saying it wouldn't be so bad to do some exercise once in a while;" Peter said, bouncing the ball between his hands now.

If only you knew, Peter; Taranee thought, although she doubted flying as a guardian actually improved her physique, and that 'fighting monsters and soldiers' counted as any kind of sport. "Do you mind if we stop for today?"

"Tired already?" Peter snickered, upon which Taranee frowned again. "Okay, okay! Don't give me that look! Geez… you're so like mom sometimes…"

Taranee couldn't avoid laughing at that one. "Hey, Peter;" she told her brother as them both began walking out of the basketball court.

"What?" Peter asked of his little sister.

"Thanks for this," the bespectacled girl told her brother; "I really needed it."

"Yeah?" the older Cook sibling asked, in a far more concerned tone.

"I've been having a lot oft things going on in my head as of late," she told him. "I just needed to… disconnect." Taranee smiled at him. "So… thanks."

"Hey c'mon, are you trying to give me diabetes here, or something?" Peter said as he passed one of his arms over her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "It's no problem, sis; really. What's an older sibling for, anyway?"

Around the same time

Hale Residence

"I'm not going to do it, mom!" Cornelia protested to Elizabeth Hale, both of them and he little sister Lillian in their home's kitchen. "Do you think I don't have more important things to do than babysitting the pipsqueak?"

"Cornelia, for the last time, don't call your sister 'the pipsqueak';" Elizabeth told her eldest daughter. "And do you really have anything else to do?"

Cornelia looked sideways. "Well, technically no, but…"

"Well," Elizabeth cut her words short using the same word and tone of voice her daughter had used; "I've got an important meeting with someone I haven't seen in years and your father is working. So, since that makes you the only one that isn't busy, it means you have to stay here, with your little sister. Because…"

"It's my responsibility to take care of Lillian when you two aren't at home and make sure she doesn't get hurt," Cornelia repeated the words her parents had repeated to her a hundred times before.

"Very good!" Elizabeth said, planting a kiss into Cornelia's cheek. "Goodbye, sweetie. Goodbye, my little flower!" Elizabeth said, hugging Lillian (who was standing nearby their kitchen's window) from behind and kissing her cheeks too. "I'll be back in three hours, tops;" she told Cornelia before she exited the kitchen. Then the Hale sisters heard their home's door closing as Elizabeth left.

"Okay, Lillian;" Cornelia said as she approached her sister. "I'm in charge, and I want to spend a quiet afternoon, so… hey, what's wrong?" Cornelia asked, her mood changing from annoyed to concerned in a matter of seconds upon seeing her little sister pouting.

"My flower's sick," Lillian said sadly, or at least with the same sadness children feel when something doesn't go their way, as she pointed to a little flowerpot over the window's ledge. Within the flowerpot was a flower that had seen… better days, to say the least. The poor plant was in its way to whiter completely.

"Weeeeeeell… these things happen, Lillian;" Cornelia told her sister in the friendliest way she could.

"But I did everything mom told me to do!" the little girl complained, turning around to look at her big sister. "I let it in the sun, and I gave it water!"

"How… much water?" Cornelia asked nicely.

"Lots!" Lillian said, throwing her little arms up.

And there's the problem, Cornelia thought. Oh, she had told her mother Lillian was too young to know how to properly take care of a flower, but did she listen? No… "Lillian, flowers are like people sometimes. They need to drink like us, but too much water and they drown..."

"But I don't want my flower to drown!" a teary-eyed said, hugging her big sister. "I want my flower to be happy!"

Bad choice of words, Cornelia thought. Christ, was she like this when she was a kid? She remembered getting really sad and upset when a stuffed rabbit she had had years ago had gotten torn apart. Her parents had even staged a 'funeral' for the toy. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Cornelia hugged her sister tightly with one hand while she waved her other hand towards the flower. In mere seconds, the withered plant stood upright and bloomed, becoming as healthy as it was possible for it.

"Look, Lillian;" Cornelia told her sister. "Your flower looks good to me."

"Wha-?" Lillian babbled, drying her tears and looking at her flower. What had been a pouting face became a smiling one almost instantaneously, and Lillian happily let go of Cornelia and grabbed her flowerpot, bringing it within the kitchen. "My flower's alright!" Lillian said, giggling. She turned to face Cornelia next, "How did you do it?!"

Cornelia shrugged as she smiled proudly. "Who knows? Maybe I'm a witch;" the blonde said, before realizing the words that had left her mouth. Uh, oh…

"A witch?!" Lillian asked, her eyes shinning. "What do you mean a witch?! You aren't a witch, witches wear pointy hats and cool capes! How did you do it?! I saw you moving your hands!" Little Lillian gasped, leaving the flowerpot over their kitchen table. "Are you really a witch?! Can you do magic?! Can I do magic?! Cornelia! Cornelia! Can you teach me magic?!"

"Ugh," Cornelia groaned as she made her way out of the kitchen, while a hyper-energetic Lillian followed on her steps. As soon as they had left, the flower within the pot moved and bloomed a little more.

And then, for the split of a second, an eye opened in the center of the flower. The eye took a good look of its surroundings and closed itself, making the flower go back to normal.

Across the Veil

Royal Palace

It was already night when Prince Phobos Escanor received Miranda's missive, brought by a single Lurden that informed him it had just arrived. The Prince, however, paid the Lurden that had come into the chamber no mind.

It wasn't that big of a room, but big enough for what the Prince was going to use it for. A single door, no other overtures, no paintings, nothing of relevance. Phobos wondered what the room had been constructed for. Perhaps it was destined to store something? He didn't know. And it mattered not, really. What mattered was that the room was situated directly under the Throne Room, even if they were separated by dozens of meters of thick worked stone.

And in the room, there were three equidistant stone-pillars, each of them 'decorated', so to speak, with several runes the Prince had engraved in them with the use of his magic; all of them brought here with the help of the increasingly dutiful Roberta. Phobos had to admit the artificial Shapeshifter girl had quickly become his favorite pawn. When he gave an order, she followed it with a nod of her head and nothing else. No clever words hiding a secret meaning, no concern for morality and honor, no emotion displayed… she just obeyed. Why was that such a difficult attribute to find in his servants? All of them treacherous, all of them waiting for a chance to stab him in the back in the moment he showed an ounce of weakness… What would any of them be without him? Hadn't he treated them as best as one could expect? Bunch of ingrates. But Roberta, oh… she was different…

Would you take her as your Queen, then? One of the voices said. Phobos could almost feel a lascivious click of a tongue behind his left ear. Oh, the quiet ones are always the dirtiest, I tell you…

Pathetic! another one yelled. Love is for the weak! Attachment is for the weak! And a Escanor is no weak at all!

If you keep draining the land even with the Heart, then… yes, yes, yes! Immortality… at your hand! You won't need a Queen, then; yes? No need to secure the bloodline… All will be yours!

Kill them all! Kill them all! They are all traitors! All enemies!

Phobos… not too… late… You still…

"That is enough babbling!" Phobos suddenly yelled, silencing the voices and startling the Lurden.

"My lord?" the savage asked.

"Nothing!" Phobos spat. "Read," he commanded.

The Lurden did as ordered. Miranda's little letter told of her and Cedric's trip to Cavigor, of how the Guardians had attacked the prison, of how it had fallen… and how Cedric had been buried under the debris. Probably dead. Maybe captured. Who knew? As for that pair of fools that had taken his sister to Earth all those years ago, Miranda wrote that the Guardians had probably freed them by the time Cavigor fell.

They failed, Phobos thought. Again. Those pair of fools have failed! Useless and treacherous arachnid and reptile! I will have their tongues cut from their mouths! I will have their skin taken from their bodies and…!

Phobos breathed and calmed down. Then, slowly, and to the Lurden's growing fear; he laughed. A laugh that started normal, then grew until it became maniacal.

"It doesn't matter," Phobos said. "My sister doesn't need to learn about this now, and by the time she will, it shall be too late… You!" he turned to the Lurden, then pointed to the center of the pillars. "Stand there!"

The Lurden, probably fearing the wrath of the Prince, did as told. He moved and stood in the equidistant center of the three engraved pillars, and as soon as he did, the Prince concentrated and called for his magic to come to him.

"Cóntere Regula," Phobos whispered, and the runes in the pillars illuminated.

"Accipere Lumen," he said rising his arms.

"Devorabit Anima!" Phobos yelled as his very own eyes illuminated.

The Lurden screamed in terror as a series of tendrils arose from the pillars and shot towards him. The tendrils pierced his body and lifted him up in the air… yet no blood was spilled. The Lurden continued to scream in agony… until he didn't anymore. And then the tendrils pulled something out of him. A little ball of light that was left floating over the pillars. The Lurden fell to the ground, lifeless.

Then Phobos extended his hands towards the ball of light, which was quickly siphoned by the Prince, the Lurden's life-force added to his own.

The alchemists had done their research well. He doubted his sister would meet the same end as the Lurden had, but with this spell, the Ritual of Amalgamation, and his own ability to siphon life-force… Yes! Rituals, rules and bloodlines be damned! The Heart of Meridian would be his, as it always should have been!

The Princess' Bedchambers

Unbeknownst to Prince Phobos Escanor, Princess Elyon Escanor had also received a letter from Miranda. The same letter her brother had received, to be exact; detailing the same events that the one she had sent to Elyon's brother. Except for one tiny, little detail. This letter, contrary to the one Phobos had received, specified that another letter had been sent to the Prince containing the same information the one Elyon had received had.

But that detail wasn't the detail that interested Elyon right now. No... for the Princess of Meridian, dressed in the most regal and expensive of gowns, who now sat over her big, soft bed in her big, fancy bedchambers... her mind was completely focused into the part of the letter that detailed how Miranda and Cedric had failed to get her adopted parents out of Cavigor. How they had been 'broken out' of Cavigor by Cornelia and the others, and now were wherever the Rebellion had its base of operations.

Broken out. Yeah... somehow Elyon had a very hard time believing that. After all, how could the girls storm a place that Cedric had called several times 'the greatest prison on Meridian' by themselves? How did they know her adoptive parents were there? And they decided to attack the place precisely when Cedric and Miranda were going to go there and bring her adoptive parents here? That was a little bit too suspicious. But if Miranda was lying... then what reason could there be to send her and her brother these letters?

Too many questions. So few answers. And Elyon found herself unable to trust the answers she had been given. There, alone in the darkness of her bedchambers, the Princess felt that the only person who had been completely straightforward with her during this whole ordeal had been Alchemy. To whom… she had refused to believe, at first.

And what does that say about me? Elyon thought as she got up from her bed and entered her bedchambers' balcony. She looked at Meridian's night sky. Starless, dark; save for the usual purplish lightning that crossed it from time to time. Like every night before it. What kind of night sky was always like that?

Elyon returned to her bed, clutching the letter against her chest. Were her adoptive parents alright? Should she care? Had they ever truly cared for her? She found herself going through all the happy memories she had crafted during her whole life alongside Thomas and Elanor Brown. Birthday parties, holiday trips, movie nights… Had all those smiles and tears been lies? But if they truly loved her, if everything about her brother that Alchemy had told her was true, then… why hadn't they told her the truth when she was old enough?

That night, Elyon Escanor went to sleep thinking about how, one time when she was a toddler, she had fell while running and scraped her knees, a little bit of blood coming from them. She had cried. A lot. Then Thomas and Elanor had come running, helped her to calm down and then put some band-aids with tiny dinosaur drawings on them over her injuries.

As her eyes closed, Elyon Escanor thought that, if she wanted to actually find answers to her questions, then the time of waiting for the answers to be given to her was over. Now it was time to seek them herself.

And who better to answer those questions… than her dear big brother?

Across the Veil; a day later

A rooftop on Heatherfield; afternoon

Breathe in. Breathe out; Jade Chan thought as she stood in the rooftop of the building her family's rented flat was in. Not far away from her, Irma Lair watched with interest as her friend practiced; a little paper-bag by her feet. Feel the strength in your arms, your legs, your torso, your head. Your fingers. Your toes.

Jade moved her left foot back, while she delivered an ascendant punch with her right arm to the chin of an imaginary foe. She followed the attack by rising her left leg and delivering a frontal kick to her imaginary foe's chest. Then, as soon as her foot touched the ground, she rotated over it and followed with a reverse turning kick. Afterwards she pressed into her imaginary foe and delivered a series of quick strikes to where her adversary's throat and face would have been. She finished it with a low kick to the foe's stomach.

"Wohoo!" Irma shouted as she clapped her hands. "Pretty good, ten out of ten! So you gonna stop now?" Irma said as she walked towards her now sweating friend. "'Cause you've been at this for an hour."

Jade took a lot of air in, so much her cheeks puffed. She let it out in n over-dramatic way, then stretched her arms and legs and cracked her fingers. "Yeah, I think I'm good for today."

"Awesome," Irma said, walking to the paper-bag and extracting two soda cans from it. "Here," she said, tossing one to Jade and next opening hers. The can emitted a hissing 'fsssss', as it opened. "So what's all the fuss with training so much lately? You've been working out a lot."

Jade took a long sip from the soda can and shrugged. "Training's good."

"Yeah, why I'm no buying that answer?" the Water Guardian said, concerned. "C'mon, tell me what's been eating you."

Both girls sat at the edge of the rooftop, legs hanging on the air, looking at the picture the many buildings of Heatherfield painted in front of them. Jade took a long sip from the can and, seeing as she had finished it, crushed it within her hand.

"Remember when we were at Cavigor?" Jade asked to which Irma nodded affirmatively. "Well, Drago, the guy we talked you three about; kinda… kicked my ass there, using Dragon Style Kung-Fu, no less. And just before that, that Tiger-guy was kicking my ass too. Yeah, I got some good hits in, but I was the one losing. And I bet the elephant chick would've done something similar if you hadn't rescued me. And we've got some important battles coming on, and… you know, I just wanna be sure I can do it right."

"So that's the reason you're training so much?" Irma asked. "Seriously? You're a freaking magical werewolf who can do Kung-Fu."

"Yeah, but I'm not as strong as the Tiger and the Elephant were, and not even half as experienced with how my Shapeshifter form works. My magic's great against people using Chi Magic, but I don't know half the spells Uncle and Tohru know. And my Kung-Fu is amateurish compared to Jackie's, or Drago's or even Hak Foo's." Jade paused, holding her legs up in the air for a couple of seconds before swinging them again. "And all of those things put together make me pretty strong, I'll admit that; but I still think I need more practice."

"Practice makes the master, right?" Irma said, laughing. "Hey, if you ever need some help, I'll gladly shoot water-balls at you."

"Oh, ha, ha!" Jade laughed dryly, friendly shouldering the brunette.

"I'm serious! It¡ll be very helpful!" Irma laughed. "Or maybe I just wanna see you in a wet t-shirt. Who knows."

"Y-Yeah…" Jade said, her laugh becoming somehow awkward over its end and blushing a bit. She stared at the sky a little bit, while Irma drank from her can of soda. "Hey, Irma?"

"Uhmhum?" the brunette said as she finished her drink.

"These… things we're doing, when it's just the two of us;" Jade said. "Are these, like… dates?"

"Pffffffttttt!" Irma spat the soda she had just drank, then coughed a bit, her cheeks blushing too. "What?!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Jade said, blushing too. "I shouldn't have asked that!"

"No! It's okay, but…" Irma said, washing her jaw. "Christ, it wouldn't have hurt you to be a little less blunt!"

"Well, it didn't sound so blunt in my head!" Jade explained, then both girls looked away from one another awkwardly. "But… are these dates?"

"I don't know…. I mean, yes, I mean… maybe?" Irma babbled, then clapped her cheeks a couple of times. "Okay, cards on the table. We're clearly attracted towards the other, and we've clearly been flirting."

"Well, duh;" Jade said.

"Good. At least that's something we got cleared out;" the Water Guardian said. "So… you want these things to be dates from now on?" Irma asked of Jade.

The Chan girl thought for a couple of moments. "I… don't know."

Irma raised an eyebrow. "That isn't a very good answer."

"No, okay… it's juts… argh!" Jade shouted in frustration. "You're one of the coolest people I've ever met! You're fun, you like the same things I like! And I don't care how this sounds, but damn you're hot!" Jade said as fast as she could, making Irma smirk and blush at the same time. "But… we're friends;" she concluded, calmy.

"And that's… bad?" Irma asked. Many couples were good friends before being romantically involved, after all.

"No, but… look, let's say tomorrow Will and Matt break up. Or Caleb and Cornelia;" Jade said. "Yeah, they all would be sad, and Will or Cornelia would cry, but we'd be there for them… and Matt would go with his own friends, and Caleb lives in another world, for Pete's sake!"

"But if we start dating, and we make it awkward and mess it up;" Irma continued, picking on the Chinese girl's train of thought; "you're afraid we wouldn't be able to be friends anymore. Or that we'd force the others to pick a side."

"Yeah," Jade concluded. "And I don't think more drama's something we need right now. We're fighting a war and we're in the verge of ending it, and… I don't know. I'd love to start dating you, but… dunno, maybe we should… wait?"

Irma pondered this. All of them were being subject to a lot of stress, and relationship drama truly was the last thing they needed. "Maybe we could… you know, start dating seriously when the war's over? And we got some actual free time and take things slowly?"

Jade nodded. "Yeah, I think that's the better option. And until then, these aren't dates."

"No, these are… how did Will call her and Matt's? Yeah, these are no-dates!" Irma said.

"Uhum," Jade said, smirking. "Just a couple of…"

"Please, don't say it..." Irma jokingly begged.

"Gals being pals," Jade said with a smile from ear to ear, making Irma groan.

And both teenage girls, sitting in that rooftop, laughed.

?

That night, Hay Lin had the dream again.

It started as it always did, with her on her room; a dark yellowish light coming through the windows that didn't let her see anything on the street. Then she opened the door and descended the stairs, finding herself in the Silver Dragon. But her family's restaurant was… different, than it usually was.

It was bigger, for starters. So big, in fact, that Hay Lin found difficult to find if the restaurant had an actual end. And instead of the many round tables that characterized her family's restaurant, there was only a single, enormous and rectangular one. And over the table, alongside many dishes that Hay Lin recognized and others she did not, was a naked, beautiful woman; with a hair made of golden leaves and shinny pearls for eyes. And sitting around the table were a series of individuals to whom Hay Lin had, disturbingly, grown accustomed to see in her dreams.

The first one Hay Lin saw was the one sitting at the table's end, nearest to her. A ten-year-old boy, dressed in a blue and red robe; his curly hair of the same golden leaf as the one of the woman over the table. When Hay Lin saw his face, she saw he had two tiny mouths where his eyes should be. He was sitting in an over-sized version of one of those chairs babies are supposed to be put when their families bring them to a restaurant; yet he was clearly not enjoying being there. He tried to lunge forward in order to grab the woman's golden, leafy hair; but then a feather smacked against his face. The child screamed in anger and, forgetting completely about the woman over the table, he began tearing the feather apart.

Next Hay Lin focused into the individual sitting at the boy's right; a woman dressed in pink and dark blue robes. Her hands were the wrinkliest ones Hay Lin had seen in her entire life, her skin dry, her nails long and twisted. Yet her face was the one of a beautiful young woman with jet-black hair; her eyes two vibrant emeralds. She took a fork into one of her wrinkled hands and sank it into the woman's chest. Before she could pull it from her, however, her hand was stopped by the one of the individual sitting opposite from her.

A man dressed in a golden robe that hung tightly to his body, wearing three golden rings in each finger of each hand, each ring with seven diamonds on it. Necklaces of gold and silver hanging from the man's neck, each with jewels the size of a baby's fist. But the man ended being a man in the moment Hay Lin got to his neck. For where a head should had been, there were instead three long and big serpents. The left a green Python, the right an orange Boa, the one on the center a black Cobra. The trio of serpents hissed at the old-woman-with-a-young-face, and yanked the fork from her wrinkled hand.

Furious, the woman armed herself with a stone (which Hay Lin wasn't very sure from where it had come), and seemed ready to fight the serpent-headed man. but if she did Hay Lin didn't see, for she found herself walking again.

The next two figures were both armored, yet they couldn't be more different in how they looked. One was a hulking young man dressed in pitch black samurai armor, his face concealed by a mask. Yet his eyes gleamed with fury at the woman over the table. Sitting across him was an extremely thin old man with a long grey beard dressed in what Hay Lin could only call stereotypical European medieval armor, and wearing a heavy five-pointed crown over his head that forced him to look down. He didn't even seem interested in any of the dishes over the table, and Hay Lin could have sworn she heard him sobbing.

Then he moved his head and, from between the five protrusions of his crown came a huge albino bat that began flying over the table and letting out surprisingly powerful screams.

And then, like she did every time she had the dream, Hay Lin tried to take a look at whoever was sitting at the head of the table; always shrouded in shadows. But as it had happened every time before, she found herself unable to move.

Then a gust of wind that burned her skin threw her backwards, and a cacophony of mad laughter forced her to cover her ears. Then she heard the sound of a heartbeat, growing louder and louder with every second.

Nevertheless, Hay Lin tried to get a peek of whom was sitting at the head of the table. She was sure she could make the shape of a woman…

THIS IS NOT FOR YOUR EYES

Lin Residence

Hay Lin's room

"Ah!" Hay Lin screamed as she woke up from her nightmare in a cold sweat.

Breathing heavily, the Air Guardian sat over her bed. She wiped the sweat over her forehead, and lied over her mattress again. Always the same dream. Always the same result. It was the same time she had heard that creepy heartbeat, though.

But judging it as nothing more than a nightmare product of her and her friends' experiences during the meridianite war; Hay Lin choose to close her eyes and go back to sleep.

For better or for worse, she wouldn't have that dream ever again.

It is the choices we make that shape who we are and what we will become. But we never must forget that our choices are ours, and nobody else's. And if those choices give birth to either happiness or misfortune, then those are ours, and only ours, too. Ser Bedivere, a Knight of the Round Table

A/N: Hello again. So… a lot has happened since I began writing this chapter. A pandemic, confinement… you know the drill by now. I really hope you lot at the other side of the screen are doing well.

I really wanted to give the characters some room to breathe before the finale. But I also wanted to tie some plot-lines, and the confrontation of Caleb and Julian is something I've been looking forward to; and also leave some foreshadowing for future events. Having said that, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, please leave a review if you feel like it. See you all in… whenever, when the three-part finale of this 'first season' of sorts begins. Until then, stay safe.

Bye, bye!