The River that Flows Eternal

It was nightfall, and the northeast plaza of Sunnytown was crammed with defenders. City guards in red and silver, Guild mages with shining gems, a host of civilians who had volunteered their arms—these were Neopia’s best. But they spoke in low voices, glancing about them at every moving thing. The fountain was silent, and the cobblestones were dark in the shadows of the shuttered storefronts surrounding it. In the light of the torches, everything was painted a dour red.

Evett, Rikti and Tylix stood among them, feeling out of place. The three of them were used to jumping into danger by now, but standing helplessly—waiting for the blow to fall—was another matter entirely. Already they heard distant cries and the sound of blades crashing against tooth and claw. So the main gate was under attack.

Evett could feel Jahbal’s malice in the air. He desired Sunnytown’s magic, and he would stop at nothing to get it. The gate surely wouldn’t hold for long. This plaza was at a crossroads between it, the Guild, and the head watchtower; its defense was paramount.

“This is all a trifle to Jahbal,” Tylix said under his breath. “He thinks he can win easily.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Evett with more conviction than he felt. He gripped his staff tightly. Gali’s orb would have to serve him well.

One of the mages gave a shout. A winged creature had evaded the archers at the gate and was swooping low in the air. Letting out a screech, it made for the Guild. But as it passed above the plaza one of the volunteers fired a bolt from her crossbow. It glanced off the monster’s hide, embedding itself in its wing. With a cry the beast crashed through a rooftop and did not reemerge. The defenders breathed again. But then they heard loud commotion from the walls. The gate had been breached.

A soldier ran into the plaza. “Message from the captain! You’re to spread out more thinly. The marketplace and mages’ district need backup—it seems the monsters are spreading all through the city to get to the Guild. They’re more cunning than we thought!” And he ran off again.

“The monsters weren’t like this before,” said one of the mages. “What are they after?”

“No idea,” said another. “Does it matter? We’re going to stop them.”

The mages and the volunteers nodded to each other and dispersed, leaving only twenty defenders behind in the plaza. Rikti, Tylix and Evett were among them. They heard quick footsteps approaching, and the rattle of makeshift armor scraping the cobblestones. The first monster, a hideous Lupe, appeared from the shadows. Evett met its gaze, and his throat tightened. He saw himself in those feral eyes, that ragged pelt. That creature had been an ordinary Neopet once. For a brief moment he let himself pity it.

Then Rikti drew his sword, and torchlight gleamed bright on the blade. “Okay, let’s go!” he yelled. Evett took a deep breath. It was time to put all cares and doubts aside.

A shout went up. The soldiers surged forward. Evett went with them, striking blindly at every monster he saw. There were more of them behind that first Lupe, far more. He lost sight of Rikti and Tylix almost instantly in the chaos. The tide of darkness was overwhelmingly strong. He saw red eyes piercing him to the bone, and heard the shrieking laughter of creatures bent on destroying him. Was this Jahbal’s trifle?

The plaza seemed to grow tenfold in size. Evett felt alone and outnumbered. He was rationing his magic, or trying to, and his attacks seemed weak. He struck down one monster, then another, and another. It made no difference. Once he thought he heard one of his friends call his name, but amid the noise there was no way to be sure. And the monsters seemed to fight on incessantly. They had no will of their own except the desire to live and reach their destination. There was something tragic in their slavering mouths and cruel gazes, and it made Evett all the angrier.

“Why—won’t—you—stop!” he yelled, throwing fireballs in every direction. But the horde came ever nearer. A spear grazed him. Claws scraped his vest. He was surrounded by a madding crowd of infinite numbers and infinite hatred. He wasn’t cut out for this. He wasn’t a soldier. He was just… ordinary. That was the truth.

Suddenly he saw something gleaming in the air. It was an ice crystal, or several of them. They struck home cleanly, and five monsters collapsed. It was not a large number, but Evett’s mind seemed to clear. He looked around as if coming out of a dream. Half an hour or so had passed. The battle was raging, but there were not as many monsters in the plaza as he had thought. Piles of the defeated lay about him. Shouts and the ringing of swords echoed about the streets. The other defenders were hard at work, it seemed.

“Are you okay?” shouted Tylix, running to his side. He looked relatively unhurt, though battered and anxious. “You were doing pretty well up till the very end, it looked like.”

“What about you?” panted Evett. “And where’s Rikti?”

“I’m okay—I’ve been staying back and targeting anything that the others haven’t reached. I don’t know where Rikti is, though.”

“He’d better not be trying something crazy again…!” Evett gritted his teeth. There was no time to fret over Rikti, not now. They all had their battles to fight.

Another wave was flooding into the plaza. The volunteers and mages were doing their best, but they were beginning to flag. Evett felt an inexplicable rage rising in him again. Raising his staff again, he faced the monsters.

“W-wait! At least give me a moment to help!” cried Tylix from behind him.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Evett yelled over his shoulder.

“With this orb, I don’t have to!” Tylix returned. As he spoke, another crystal sprouted in his palm. He fitted it to his slingshot and fired it with ease. It sailed over Evett’s head and nailed a Peophin beast square in the muzzle. Evett had to say he was impressed. He’d never pegged Tylix as a fighter, but just in the past week he’d grown by leaps and bounds.

Time went on. Eventually the stream of monsters began to ebb; most were at the gate, where the fighting was hardest, or elsewhere in the city. Evett, Tylix and the other soldiers in the plaza were left to deal with the ones rampaging through the streets in search of the Guild and other magical targets. Slowly the defenders’ numbers dwindled; there were just too few of them, and too many opponents. Evett, for his part, was so dizzy with exertion that it was a miracle he still stood.

But somehow, he did. His magic never ceased, and monsters fell before him. As his mind dulled with the hours of pain and drudgery, his body seemed strangely to lighten. It must have been his strange power at work. And yet after all that, he couldn’t even say whether all his fighting had made a difference. His trust in this path he had chosen was all that held him to it.

Tylix came up beside him, looking pale. “Let’s rest for a few minutes. Do you have any water? My bottle’s slashed.”

“Plenty.” They sat down on a pile of fallen bricks and took gulps from Evett’s waterskin. For a while neither of them spoke, seeking only to breathe in peace for a moment. Then Evett looked down and noticed something.

“Hey. You’re shaking all over.”

Tylix blinked and stared at his lap. “Oh. You’re right. I guess I am.”

Evett put a paw on his shoulder. “You okay? Come to think of it, you’ve been like this the whole time. I’ve never seen you ruffled like this.”

“You’re right, it’s not normal for me,” said Tylix with a short laugh. “I’ve seen it all before. Wars, destruction… I’m used to this.”

“Then why—”

“I’ve seen the ruin of Sunnytown, but never like this. I’ve never seen this battle.”

Evett furrowed his brow. “I mean, it’s not like your visions show you everything that’s going to happen.”

“They used to—at least, the bad things. Even if I didn’t understand them, or if I only got a quick glimpse, they were always there.” Tylix drew his knees up to his chest. “But they’ve been getting fainter for a while now. Ever since Tower Gaia. And earlier today I had my last one.”

He stopped suddenly and took a long breath. He looked terribly vulnerable, like the child he was. “I’m scared, Evett. I think something’s changed.”

“It’s you,” said Evett quietly. “You changed, Tylix. You met Rikti and me at Tower Gaia, and ever since then you’ve been helping us. Maybe the reason you’re not seeing destruction anymore is because you’re altering Neopia’s destiny. Couldn’t it be that simple?”

Of course not, but it was the best Evett could offer. There was a long pause. He expected Tylix to snap at him, or at least lecture him on the uselessness of ideals, but finally the little Kacheek turned and stared into his eyes. The directness of his gaze was almost unnerving. “Do you really think so?” he asked. “Do you really think there’s a chance?”

“…Yeah. I do.”

“I see.” Tylix slumped his shoulders. “It was so much easier when all I had to worry about was myself.”

Evett said nothing. They sat in silence and stared out at the stained and broken fountain. The battle went on.

Suddenly Evett smelled something burning. He looked up. There was an unearthly glow in the sky to the south. The changing wind was blowing toward them, choked with ash. Something terrible was happening. “The mages’ district is on fire,” he gasped.

Tylix stood up, his face drawn. A thousand things seemed to go through his head at that moment. Quickly he rallied himself. “It must be bad if we can see it from here. I suppose Jahbal is determined to get those artifacts.” He hesitated. “Do you think Rikti went that way?”

As soon as he said it, Evett slapped his forehead. “Of course he did. That idiot.” Even as he spoke, he too rose to his feet. There was nothing more he could do here. The fire, the artifacts, Rikti, Jahbal… he didn’t love the mages’ district like Tylix did, but he needed to be there.

“We’re not cut out for this plaza anyway,” he said. “Over there we’ll be able to move freely.” Tylix nodded silently. There was no choice to be made here. All they could do was help wherever they could. It was just like he had said. There was still hope. Hope for Neopia—hope for him to return where he belonged. He just had to find it somehow.

I know how you feel, Tylix, he thought. There’s nothing reassuring about any of it. Bowing their heads, they turned and made their way out of the plaza: two small creatures searching for direction in a city that would give them none.

———

“Okay, let’s go!”

The evening sun shone bright in the west. The first wave of beasts was pouring into the plaza. Rikti took a measured look at their numbers, aimed for their weakest point, and advanced. He leaped into the air, catching a monster’s club on his buckler. He spun gracefully and sent a whole crowd of beasts to the ground. He swung his sword with the skills he had spent years honing.

It should have been the best moment of his life. He’d dreamed of a great adventure like this as long as he could remember. Those half-forgotten evenings in the little house by the swamp, listening to his parents tell tales of adventure and war… and here he was now, living them in the flesh. He should have reveled in this battle. But to his lack of surprise, he wasn’t. The songs never quite seemed to match reality.

Rikti took a breath and paused. His side of the plaza was clear for the moment. Evett was fending off a whole horde of monsters with his fire; Tylix was further back, bringing them down from afar; the other soldiers were scattered around the square. In the wind he heard the sounds of desperate fighting at the gate and in the surrounding neighborhoods. Rikti was lucky he was still holding his own.

He saw a white flash in the air to the south, almost like a firecracker. It was so sudden and quick that at first he thought he had imagined it. But then, flying up to a nearby balcony, he saw it again. A house in the mages’ district was up in flames. Some monsters had already gotten through, it looked like. And now they were in search of energy.

Rikti suddenly remembered Tylix’s friends and all the other civilians sheltering underground. What would happen to them? A wave of heat rolled over him, and light filled his vision. More fires were starting. The sight stirred something in Rikti. A memory of that terrible day…

He wanted to tell Evett and Rikti, but every second felt precious. Sorry, guys. I’ve got to do this. Leaving the plaza, Rikti jumped from rooftop to rooftop. It seemed to take him an eternity, and he cursed his useless Korbat wings. The state of things below was obscured by smoke and the sounds of chaotic fighting. With every new flash of orange light, his heart pounded faster. He had to get there soon. He had to do something, prevent what was surely bound to happen.

As he raced over the rooftops, a blow suddenly grazed him from behind. He turned his head. A beast was on his tail—a monstrous Draik with rows of teeth like blades. Rikti had never seen anything like it before. And as he marveled, it opened its mouth, preparing for another strike.

Rikti dodged sideways in the nick of time. Behind him he heard screams. There was a small crowd of civilians watching from the street. They must have fled their shelter, only to run headfirst into this Draik. Rikti gritted his teeth and faced the monster. “All right, you want energy? I’ve got some.” Great. He’d stuck his head into something crazy again.

He flew and landed a few rooftops away, straining to get out of the creature’s reach. It gave chase with ravenous eagerness. Back and back he flew. Compared to Jahbal, the monster’s movements were easy to predict. But it was still powerful, and Rikti’s body wasn’t meant for aerial battle. It was all he could do to stay ahead of it and make a few weak counterattacks of its own, whenever he could spare the precious seconds to look back. He was losing height and ground fast. And the mages’ district was so close…!

Then it happened: the monster swung its claws with frightening speed. Rikti turned, trying to block the blow with his buckler. It skidded off, and then he felt a sharp pain in his wing. He let out a gasp. Suddenly he was falling. Sky and wall passed him by in a blur. At the last second he realized what was happening to him, and in a frantic motion he flapped his other wing to give himself some lift.

He landed hard in a patch of grass. The wind was knocked out of him. Pain shot through his body, just enough to keep him conscious. Thankfully he had managed to avoid the cobbles. But right as he came back to his senses, he heard the monster’s cry from above. It was barreling down, preparing for the final blow. Rikti groped around in the grass for his sword. There it was, just within reach. He closed his numb hand around the hilt. The Draik was just above him now. Rikti raised his sword to the sky and thrust it upward as hard as he still could.

The monster gave a cry and tottered forward. Rikti dropped his sword again. He gathered his wits just enough to fend off the monster with his bare hands. They were locked there for a moment, wrestling in silent agony. Rikti’s arms trembled with exertion. The monster’s head was just inches from his, and he could feel its hot breath. His eyes watered from the stench and heat.

Finally, bracing himself against the ground, he managed to roll to the side. The beast, surprised by the sudden void beneath it and overcome by its wound, fell flat on the ground. Rikti kicked it onto the cobbles, where it lay silent.

Rikti took a deep breath. His legs wobbled. The hot and stinging air muddied his lungs, but it also reminded him of what he had come here to do. He needed to help. He could start by finding those townsfolk who had wandered into the monster’s path. Good. That was a start. He couldn’t fly anymore, but he could walk. Nodding to himself, he went on.

They had probably gone in the direction of the Guild, he surmised, and so he began following the gentle incline of the hill. As he went up the street, the heat became more intense. Buildings all over were burning now. The sight of each and every one of them seared his eyes. Ten years ago he had run from this. No longer. He went on.

At last he arrived at the mages’ district. The pleasant tree-lined avenues were unrecognizable now. Burnt debris littered the ground. Smoke and ash choked the air. Though it seemed much of the quarter had already been lost, a few scattered skirmishes were still going on. Monsters and soldiers were battling in the streets, each side trying desperately to stop the other from escaping the inferno. As Rikti watched, one of the burning structures collapsed into rubble. He recognized it as one of the magical storehouses. The monsters began to dig through it eagerly. A few soldiers endeavored to hold them off. The shouts and wails were endless, drowned out only by the roar of new flames rising.

There was nothing he could do here. There were no songs. He turned and stumbled onward, looking for something he couldn’t describe. The din of battle passed him by, but the fires were ceaseless. His lungs burned. But he wanted to continue. He wanted to—to—

A voice came out of the darkness. “Rikti? Rikti, come this way!”

His brother, peering out from a side-alley, was beckoning to him. A half-dozen others crouched behind him. It was as if Rikti was a child again, wandering the streets of Swampedge City. His eyes stung. Maybe this was fate. It had to be.

“So you were the one who saved us,” said Mokti.

“Surprised?”

“Is that all you have to say?” Mokti grimaced. “Listen, our shelter caught fire, but we know a safe passage out of the city. You’d better come with us.”

“I can’t,” said Rikti tiredly. “You know that.”

Mokti’s face darkened. “Well. I figured you’d say as much.”

He gestured at the others to go on, leaving only him behind. The two brothers stared at each other, separated by mere inches. But to Rikti the distance between them might as well have been the Wide Plains themselves, burning away into ash.

“You’re never going to change, are you?” said Mokti.

“Change…? Me?”

“Yes, you!” Suddenly Mokti was shouting. “You’re still putting your life on the line, and for what? After everything I’ve done for you, you’re ready to throw it all away for a city you don’t even know! You—you little brat!”

This again. This again. “So what?” Rikti growled. “I’m not like you! I’m tired of following you around, letting you raise me into some sensible merchant. I’m tired of—”

He stopped. Suddenly none of it mattered anymore. He felt like he might faint. “Actually, forget it.”

“What?”

“I’m not really mad. How could I be mad at a time like this? I was never that good at pretending, you know.” He wiped the sweat out of his eyes.

Mokti opened his mouth and shut it again. His whole frame slumped. “That’s new,” he said with a sad chuckle. “I thought you hated me. I mean, why else would you do this? Run away with strangers and risk everything? Why are you still fighting, when you know what it cost us?”

Rikti swallowed. The noise seemed to dim to a whisper. He had to say it now. And strangely, he found that it was no longer as hard as he’d expected it to be. Perhaps because this was his last chance.

“I never hated you,” he said at last. “You’re irritating and stuck-up, and you never ask me for my opinion on anything. But you’re still my big brother, idiot. You’ve kept me safe ever since we were kids. How could I hate you?” His voice cracked.

Mokti bit his lip. Rikti barreled on. “I’ve seen so many beautiful places now. Met Neopians I started to care about. I want to do for them what you did for me. I want to save Neopia.” He took a deep breath and winced as he tasted the smoke. “I know. I know what it costs to fight. I get it now. But I’ve got to pass it on, right? I have to make this world better.”

The seconds ticked by. Finally Mokti exhaled, as if shaking off the anger. Something about him looked so… normal. So tired and worn. It had always been there, all these years, but Rikti had never looked for it.

“You really are the worst,” Mokti mumbled. “I used to be able to shout you down, but all of a sudden you’ve turned into an orator. It’s really quite annoying.” He closed his eyes momentarily. “Once I asked that Evett fellow to promise me he would look after you. But I suppose it’s time I asked you. Will you come back safe?”

“Of course. This time next spring we’ll be yelling at each other like always… I’m sure of it.”

“All right. One last thing—“ Suddenly Mokti bent down and hugged him. Rikti was too stunned for a moment to move. Then he returned the embrace. Even in the midst of all his aches and pains, it was wonderfully soft.

“I’m proud of you,” Mokti said, so quietly that Rikti thought he’d imagined it. Then the older Korbat straightened up and dusted himself off with some embarrassment. “Anyway. That was some good swordplay I saw earlier. Make sure to eat your greens, and stay close to Evett, you hear? It won’t do if you catch a cold out there in the wilds.”

“You got it,” said Rikti, laughing through the tears. “Same to you, okay? If you’re trying to get out of Sunnytown now, you’d better not do anything reckless. Those other folks in your shelter probably think you’re a real character.”

“Unlike you, I always make the rational choice.” Mokti smiled and stepped back. “Good luck, Rikti. I’ll be waiting in Swampedge City.” Then, giving a final wave, he walked away down the alley and disappeared.

There was no need to say anything else. This wasn’t goodbye, after all. Rikti exhaled, feeling satisfied. Then, dragging his fist over his eyes, he gripped his sword and charged up the hill without looking back. Everyone was making for the Guild, soldier and monster alike. The battle for Sunnytown was reaching a dire point.

There were no songs for a time like this, but maybe one day there would be. There’d be something to wash away the bitter taste of struggle, something to lift up its valiant dreams. Rikti wanted to hear that tune. He lifted his head and saw the moon coming out. The night was still young. He had work to do.

———

The further Tylix and Evett ventured from the plaza, the worse their surroundings became. The streets lay empty and devastated. Every tree had been torched; every house had been reduced to smoldering ash. The largest fires seemed to have gone out by now, but small ones still licked at the fallen lumber. The ground glowed with fiery embers. Even with Tylix using his magic to clear the way, he found it difficult to move. He forced himself to put aside his emotions and push onward. Maybe Rikti really had been here. It certainly would have been a fitting place for him to end up.

“Do you think Jahbal can see us?” muttered Evett.

“I don’t know,” Tylix answered tightly. “But I’m sure he has a base here somewhere. Look at all these monsters carrying artifacts.”

The mages’ district was just ahead of them. Many monsters roamed about, picking through the ashes in search of magical energy. A few were skulking off with gems and other shiny trinkets clutched in their teeth. There was no sign of any Neopian.

As Tylix and Evett approached, trying to see where the monsters were taking their plunder, they were noticed. With all the buildings here burned to the ground, there was nowhere to hide. They would have to cut their way through the crowd.

“You won’t have the advantage of range this time,” Evett muttered. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Tylix took a deep breath. His close-quarters skills still weren’t much, but after a few days of hard practice he felt confident enough to give them a try. The ordeal in the Institute was long past. “Of course.”

As they ran forward, the creatures turned to face them. Tylix inhaled and gripped the orb that hung from his neck. In his mind he constructed the image of what he desired. It was his usual method, and a far cry from Evett’s spur-of-the-moment conjuring. As energy flowed into his paw, he could feel his imagination taking form. It was a wonderful sensation of control, like putting the first drop of ink on a blank sheet of parchment.

In an instant he could feel a long dagger resting in his palm. It was a bit duller than the average dagger, but as it had been created out of his own spirit, he could wield it with ease.

“If only I’d had more time,” he sighed to himself. “How was I supposed to know I’d get so engrossed in all this?” The dagger twirled in his grasp. Stretching out his other paw, he released the magic he had built up. Ice shot out from it and coated the ground around him. The monsters shrieked and staggered. Though great in numbers, they were slow to react to a sudden turn of events. Jahbal’s army was evidently still far from what it had been in centuries past.

A Wocky threw out a slashing blow, but it lost its balance and went wide. Tylix ducked under it and threw his dagger. His aim was as true as always; the crystal struck it square in the chest. Tendrils of ice snaked out from the point it had touched. The monster stood frozen, half from shock and half from the chill rapidly spreading through its torso. It wobbled backward, scattering the creatures behind it. A path was opening up.

Still too slow. He had to be faster. With the ice on the ground preceding him, he forced his way up the winding avenue. Evett was just behind him, blasting and punching the crowds of monsters. Worn as the Lupe was, he was still trading blows with ease. He had gotten so much stronger in the mere weeks since Tylix had met him—it almost beggared belief.

Shuttered houses and storefronts passed by in a blur. Broken signs and flowerpots were trampled to dust. Tylix and Evett ducked into an alley once they had gotten far enough ahead, hoping to catch their breath. On the other side, Tylix spotted the remains of Gali Yoj’s shop on a silent street corner. The shop had been reduced to cinders; only the back wall was left standing. Gems lay scattered on the cobbles, their brilliance in splinters. Gali herself was outside, furiously sweeping up the shards with a broom.

“Looks like it’s been ransacked,” whispered Evett. “The monsters must have come through here.”

Gali whipped toward them. “Who’s there?!” A small jewel-encrusted knife hidden in her wing came soaring through the air. Energy sparked along its blade. Tylix and Evett dived out of the way just as it sank into the wall behind them and exploded.

“Wait, wait!” said Evett, coughing. “We’re not monsters!”

The dust cleared. Gali squinted at them. “Oh. You’re that rich fellow from the other day.” With a grunt, she walked over and pulled her knife out of the remains of the wall. “Everyone’s fled to the Guild. Hurry that way if you want to keep your head on your shoulders.”

“What about you?” asked Tylix. “Shouldn’t you go too in that case?”

“And leave my shop? As if!” Gali gave a pompous sniff. “I spent years building up my collection, only for those moronic beasts to break in and carry it off! What’s worse, they don’t have the slightest delicacy. Look at this—they’ve practically left a trail of rubble. Now I’ve got to salvage something marketable out of all this! Just unbelievable, I tell you. Wars are bad for business.” With a huff, she returned to her sweeping.

Tylix looked around. Indeed, he could see a faint line of shimmering gem shards winding away from the shop down another street. “The monsters must be storing all these artifacts somewhere,” he said thoughtfully. “Miss Gali, do you know where they went?”

Gali shrugged. “The houses in that area are full of spacious cellars. I’m sure they could have found one to their liking. But there are dozens of beasts lurking there. If you’re looking for your valuables, I can assure you they’re not coming back.”

“It’s not that,” said Evett. “If we get the artifacts, Jah—er, the monsters won’t have the energy they’re after. They might pull back.”

“Hm.” Gali rested her arm on the broom handle. She squinted, giving the duo a once-over. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear your little slip-up. But I’ll say this much: if Sunnytown’s fate rests on your shoulders, you’d better not mess up. And don’t break your gems.”

“We won’t,” Evett promised hastily. “Thanks for the directions.”

“Get my stuff back while you’re at it!” shouted Gali as they ran off. “Good luck!”

The road began to incline sharply upward as they went after the shards. The thin trail was difficult to make out, and for a while they were lost. The echoes of ferocious fighting high above them at the foot of the Guild made them quail. Then a fey light burst out over the tumbled-down rooftops. High above the smoke and clouds, the moon was coming out. Monsters all along the hill howled and screeched, sensing their hour at hand. The shards on the ground sparkled like morning dew.

“Looks like it goes that way,” Tylix muttered. He and Evett were about to round a corner when they heard a shuffling sound to their left. They froze. Four armored Chia monsters were slinking out of a decimated magical storehouse, clutching armfuls of treasure: mirrors, beads, scimitars. They seemed too occupied with their precious cargo to notice the intruders mere yards away—but then Tylix noticed that Evett’s gem was catching the light as clearly as the shards they had been following. It was too late. The monsters looked up and charged.

Evett raised his staff, but he had no time to prepare a blow. The Chias were already on top of him, battering him with a storm of blows and thrown artifacts. They were small and fast on their feet, especially in this open space; Evett, still a novice at brawling, plainly couldn’t counter them at close range. But in their haste, they had forgotten Tylix.

Tylix backed up to give himself space. He had to act quickly before Evett was overwhelmed. Even with the moon out, it was difficult to see anything amid the chaos. Slingshots and daggers would do no good here. He would have to cast his net wide and hope for the best. And he had to be quick. Above all else, he would have to strike first.

With his orb resting in his paw, Tylix willed his strength to come forward. Once again he pictured his desire. The orb rose up, glowing, until it was floating above his palm. And then—ice sprouted from it. A dizzying array of daggers, curving through the air in a jagged arc, rushed forth before he could even blink.

“Evett! Jump!” he shouted.

Evett did as he was told. He leaped straight up, head and shoulders above the Chias. And all four of them, stuck low to the ground, had nowhere to dodge. In a flash they were blown halfway down the street. Magical relics went flying.

Tylix felt a twinge of fatigue hit him. “I think I overdid that,” he admitted.

“Are you okay?” said Evett hurriedly. “Actually, you’d better be, because—” One of the Chias was getting to its feet and stumbling around the corner. As it ran, it let out a wild shriek. From deeper in the maze of streets there came a chorus of answering cries. Tylix steeled himself. There would be time for regrets later. If the Chia was calling for reinforcements, the monsters’ hideout was surely near.

Tylix and Evett turned the corner onto a wide avenue and raced after the Chia. The trail of gem shards had been scattered in the confusion, and that lone monster was their only hope. A crowd of beasts poured out of the doors and windows behind them, but they did not dare stop and engage. With the horde on their heels, they made their way to the top of the avenue. Ahead of them, the Chia scrambled into a narrow alleyway.

Evett and Tylix had reached the southern edge of the mages’ district. The Guild was only a block or two away now. Tylix stared at it for a brief moment, biting his lip. Even now it looked beautiful; its gleaming dome, only slightly tarnished by the labors of war, could be seen over the hollowed-out roofs. The sounds of grueling battle were growing louder and louder. Sunnytown’s defenders were doing everything in their power to keep Jahbal from their most precious magical reserves.

With some effort, Tylix wrenched his gaze away from the Guild and turned to the dark alley where the Chia had vanished. Well, alley was a charitable description; it was barely wide enough to fit a Neopet.

“You go first,” Evett said. “I’ll try and hold off these monsters.”

Tylix squeezed into the alley and squinted. It was terribly dim here, but he thought he spotted a small door in the building to the right. It seemed to lead to a cellar of some kind, just as Gali had suspected. As he inched forward, he suddenly felt a prickling sensation on his skin. An evil presence was here.

He turned his head to call out to Evett, but then he felt a wave of magic in the air. Evett was standing at the entrance to the alley. The light of his gem was waxing to a brilliant shine. The monsters approached, hissing and growling. With a yell Evett unleashed his power. A bolt of crimson flame rushed forth. Heat cascaded outwards. Tylix felt his fur stand on end as the rushing breeze distorted around it. Suddenly most of the monsters were gone, and so was most of the building across the street.

Tylix was too shocked for a second to speak. “…That’s the most you’ve shown so far, I think,” he finally managed.

Evett looked just as surprised. In the darkness, as their eyes met, Tylix thought he saw something strange. A faint white glow on Evett’s pelt, like the soft gleam of a star—but it vanished when he looked again.

“Evett—“

His words were quickly drowned out. The remaining monsters were already closing in, too near for another round of fire. And then, as Tylix turned back around, he saw the Chia and a larger Wocky monster emerging from the cellar. He and Evett had no choice but to fight on.

Tylix pushed all worries and questions out of his mind. As the Chia brought down its sword, Tylix conjured up a dagger and parried the blow. Chunks of ice went flying. The monster countered with a flurry of strikes; though no more skilled than the rest, it was terrifyingly fast. And the Wocky was there too, delivering another round of blows. Tylix found himself losing ground with each passing second. Even pushing his reflexes to the limit, he couldn’t make up for the natural strength and speed of these beasts. If he could just find an opening—

Behind him, Evett pounded one of the bigger monsters into the earth. A shriek went up from the horde. The Chia, too, gave a cry. Its sword dropped to its side for a moment. Just a moment, but that was all Tylix needed. With the orb in his palm, he concentrated his power into his fingertip and thrust it through a chink in the Chia’s helmet. Glowing cracks spread through the metal until it broke apart in pieces, disorienting the Chia. Tylix grabbed its face and, placing as much magic into his paw as he could, shoved it backward into its partner. Ice blossomed from the Chia’s helmet as it struck the Wocky behind it. Both of them were down, at least for the moment.

“Evett! Hurry, let’s go in!” he yelled. Shakily he and Evett descended into the cellar. It was dark, but moonlight from a few tiny windows near the ceiling filtered in. Rubble and pieces of broken glass were scattered about. Claw and fang marks scored the floorboards and ceiling beams.

Tylix walked around to examine the room while Evett barred the door with as much debris as he could find. The stairway to the ground floor had collapsed; one of the finely-carved banisters lay in burnt pieces on the ground. On the floor, half-covered by velvet drapings, were five tall piles of dark objects: mirrors, swords, scepters, tomes, and precious gems looted from all over the mages’ district. The piles rose so high that they nearly reached the windows. Magical energy filled the room, enough to make a familiar nausea tickle the back of Tylix’s throat.

Yet he saw no way for Jahbal to reach that power. How did the monsters convey energy to their overlord? There had to be some ancient spell that would do it. And where there was a spell, there might be a counterspell.

The sound of monsters outside roused him from his thoughts. He turned his attention to the floor. Peeking out from beneath one of the mounds of twinkling relics was a curved scratch. Just one, and it was hardly even visible, but there was something odd about its shape. Something deliberate?

“Why are all the artifacts stacked up like this, anyway?” said Evett, still keeping his weight pressed against the groaning door. “The creatures could have thrown them anywhere they liked. You’d think they’d worry about the whole mountain toppling over. Speaking of which, why isn’t anything toppling over?”

Now that was a good question. There had to be something holding all the pieces together. Tylix ran to another pile in the corner of the room and checked the floor beneath it. He saw a similar curving indentation clumsily scraped into the wood. And then, almost indiscernibly, it glowed.

“It’s a magic circle!” he gasped. “Like the one we saw in the Institute, though much simpler. Something he could use to spy on others… and to collect energy. He must have directed his monsters to draw them for him—anybody would do as long as they could make the right symbols—”

“Okay, okay, so what do we do?!” interrupted Evett anxiously. “If we just break the circle, that should stop it, right? The way Korabric did?”

Tylix struggled to recall anything else he knew about magic circles. There was little; almost all the facts had been lost to time. “I—think so? I doubt Jahbal could have placed a protective enchantment on them from afar. But we can’t step into them, or else—”

The door gave in at last. Evett lurched forward under the weight of a whole company of slavering monsters. Tylix gasped. There were so many more now. Where had they all come from? He didn’t have nearly enough power left to fight them all off. And even if he had, he didn’t dare make a move in the midst of all these unknown relics.

Evett had no such compunctions. He swung his staff wildly, trying to beat the monsters back with sheer muscle. A stray blow knocked a hole into one of the piles of treasure. Tylix heard something snap in the air like a wire. The mound, which had been so still before, began to list to one side. Glittering trinkets tumbled down its long slopes with the fluid elegance of a waterfall.

“Evett, stop!” he said. “You’re going to—“

His cries were unheeded; indeed, Tylix himself went unnoticed in the dark corner where he was crouching. Evett was fighting hard, but the monsters were steadily forcing a retreat. The air thrummed with potent energy. Evett took a step backward, then another. He was on the very edge of a circle now. “Stop!” Tylix shouted again. “Don’t move!” There was nothing he could do. As he watched, Evett teetered and—as one of the monsters slammed into him—fell into the pile of artifacts. Another snapping sound echoed through the room. The hoard collapsed, burying Evett under a wave of shining gold and silver. There was no sign of him.

The rim of the circle was now fully visible. Tylix could see a few faint words of Kayannin script crudely etched around it. He saw, too, the malice that lurked beneath. It was palpable in the air. This was undoubtedly the same force that had dominated him and his friends at the Temple of Roo.

Tylix looked down and realized he was trembling again. There were still twenty or so monsters crammed into this room. The whole world was against him, the way it had always been.

Do you really think there’s a chance? he had asked Evett not even an hour ago. But that had been a rhetorical question, of course. He’d known the answer for a while. The visions had only been the last straw.

Finally he accepted it. He bade farewell to the life he had always lived. Gripping the white orb, he placed his paw on the floor. It was cold, getting colder. As power flowed into his fingertips once more, he heard Evett’s voice echoing in his head.

Yeah. I do.

And the floor split in half.

———

Darkness surrounded Evett. It was an all-too-familiar sensation for him. Memories of Xantan’s cave came back to him, and with them came deeper and more terrible things. How many years had he spent in that pit in the Haunted Woods, gnawing on nothing but pity and remorse? Where had the time gone? Ah… not this again, he thought. I don’t want to remember this.

Another voice interrupted his nightmare—not Xantan’s screeching wail but the velvet tones of a far more terrifying villain. Evett felt that creature’s hideous regard on him, and in the cold darkness it was a searing flame.

“My, my,” it said, sounding disappointed. “I felt a disturbance and came to check on my circles, but it’s only you again. Well, I suppose I can take advantage of this. I didn’t quite drain you last time…”

A wave of exhaustion came over Evett. He saw those orange threads again, floating away, floating on an invisible breeze. He strove to move, but his body would not obey him. It was as if he were a thousand miles away from it, staring at it from the other end of a long tunnel. Distantly he felt the weight of a great many artifacts crushing him into the ground, but they were so far away. So far away…

“Don’t bother,” Jahbal answered with a laugh. “You are in my domain now, little Lupe; we are speaking to each other within the confines of your mind. It was very unwise of you to step into my circle. What did you think you could do, after I trounced you so handily last time?”

“Shut—up,” Evett growled. “What’s your problem? It’s been a thousand years, and you still can’t leave Neopia alone.”

He’d retorted unthinkingly, saying whatever came to mind, but his words were met with a deadly silence. The eye staring at him was sour, rotting from the inside out with desire. “What dreams have you had in your low existence?” said Jahbal coldly. “What heights have you seen? When you have the power of an emperor, then you will know what it is to command a nation. In your next life, perhaps.”

Evett was finding it difficult to think now. He was so tired. His magic was almost gone. Was this what it had been like for all those Neopians attacked by monsters in the past millennium? A last gasp of hopeless fatigue, a last moment of impotent regret, and then nothing? What an ordinary way to go—erasure on the passing whim of some faceless, ageless ruler. He almost envied it. It hurt to admit it, but an ordinary existence had never been his lot in life, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

He gathered his wits and forced himself to focus. There was still something he could do. He was linked to Jahbal now, much like the monsters were. Of course it was Jahbal who had the advantage, but even so there was a tiny gap in that dark space: a gap through which Evett could, if only faintly, sense his enemy’s heart. In his vanity Jahbal had let his schemes slip through the cracks.

Evett took a deep breath and spoke at last. “You thought Sunnytown would be an easy victory, didn’t you?” he said. “You sent out an army in haste. But it’s been hours, and the Guild is still out of your reach. Even the little hoard you’ve gathered here has been discovered.”

Jahbal laughed again. “Bold words. I have you at my mercy, you know.”

“It’s not about me,” said Evett. “This isn’t even my own time. And you’re right—I don’t really have a dream. But Tylix and Rikti? They do. Every Neopian here has a dream. The world’s gone on without you. It will never bend to your will the way it once did.”

No answer.

“Sunnytown will win this battle.” Evett dared himself to meet that terrible gaze head-on. “You’ve overreached, Jahbal.”

Seconds passed. The darkness began to shudder, like waves of black drapes perturbed by some passing gale. “Overreached…? Overreached, say you? You, who couldn’t so much as lay a single finger on me!” Jahbal roared. “This backwater village is nothing to me. I could destroy it with a thought! And I will, starting with you and every worthless bone in your body!”

Evett could hear far-off commotion and voices. The weight on him seemed to grow lighter. Tylix, what are you… But Jahbal’s anger was boiling over, filling every corner of his battered mind. His consciousness began to flicker. He sensed the movements of Jahbal’s creatures scattered throughout the city. They were rushing to the Guild, filled with their master’s craving for power. There were so many of them. But then he saw the defenders of Sunnytown waiting for them: brave, stalwart soldiers who readied themselves uncomplainingly for the final assault. And Rikti… Rikti was there too. All of them were stronger than he would ever be. Nothing was impossible. There was hope after all. Hope for others, if not for himself.

It was not a happy feeling, but it pushed Evett on. Fire kindled in his soul once more. Who cared about his own desperation for life? He had others to care for, other lives to shield. He raised himself slowly upward. And the darkness, the eternal gloom of Xantan’s cave and the Haunted Woods and every other prison he had known, receded.

Jahbal’s rage was a storm. Evett’s mind buckled under its weight. Something was about to give. “You… You!” screamed Jahbal. “I know what you are now—another abomination from that accursed place! There should have been no more—you—you loathsome—“

The air in the cellar seemed to warp and crackle. Evett’s link to the Two Rings was stretching to the limit. Then it broke. The evil grip around him vanished. The darkness of his inner world receded into a more familiar gloom. He gasped and tasted air. For a moment he lay there, utterly exhausted. Only the strangely cold air kept him awake. Finally, shivering, he opened his eyes.

Beneath him was the crude magic circle. Its lines were broken by deep icy fissures that ran all over the floor. Each one had carved the wood two or three inches deep. “No way,” said Evett. He looked around weakly. The rest of the circles, also ruined, had lost all their power. Treasure and unconscious monsters were scattered everywhere. And lying facedown in the center of the room, with ice radiating out from him on every side, was Tylix.

Evett struggled to his feet and ran to his friend’s side. “Tylix! Hey!” The Kacheek was passed out, his fur frozen stiff. Had he really...? Evett couldn’t believe it. Slinging Tylix over his shoulder, he began to stumble out of the room.

But just as Jahbal’s voice disappeared from his mind for good, he heard that final word:

“—dissonance.”

———

Sunnytown’s central district was in chaos. Monsters flooded every corner; fires rose up on every block. Through the smoke Rikti could see the Guild on the top of the hill, its white walls like a beacon in the night. At its foot was a roiling cloud: Jahbal’s servants and Sunnytown’s guardians, locked in a desperate final clash. Rikti had to get there in time.

Flying was out of the question, so he ran. He swung his sword in brisk motions about him as he went, caring more for speed now than technique. There was no joy in this infinite madness. But even through the pain, the hopes and dreams of so many others were with him. Who could give up at a time like this?

Up the twisting road he ran, never letting his eyes stray from the Guild. It drew nearer and nearer until, at last, he was looking up at its great facade. It was just above him, ringed with hundreds of monsters and Neopians alike. The marble steps and green lawns and fair pavilions were overrun. There was no formation to speak of—every soldier fought for himself and his own cause. Rikti was one of them now. He shook his head and jumped into the fray.

In an instant time seemed to slow. Light and reason vanished from his head. He was wading in a vast ocean of foes, striking every droplet in its turn. His sword rose and fell with the tide. His heartbeat sang in his ears. Faces and weapons passed before him, bursts of color that soon faded out of sight. Noises and cries echoed off the walls and soared in the tumultuous air. His senses were overwhelmed until it was only his arms that had the strength to move. But they did move. He would not lose, not while there was still a chance.

When he thought to look around him again, he saw that he was in a clearing surrounded by fallen foes. His back was to a pillar and his sword was in his hand, stained but still upright. Only a few days ago he had stood on these very steps with Evett and Tylix. It felt like a distant memory.

He sat down for a moment. Over the tops of the soldiers’ heads and the enormous dome of the Guild he could see the moon, the stars, and beneath them a glimpse of the horizon. Was that the ocean? What a sight. Rikti leaned his head on the pillar and smiled. For a while he just looked out wordlessly at the sky and listened to himself breathe.

Rikti remembered one night, a few weeks back now, when he and Evett had made their camp in the fields outside Neopia City. The grass had been damp with evening rain, and Evett had lit a fire to warm him. Then they had gone to sleep together under the same calm, clear sky. Had it looked as beautiful back in those days, at the very start of his journey? Rikti didn’t think so.

“The smoke will clear,” he said to no one in particular. “It always does.”

He stood up and dusted himself off. The wind was changing. All around them monsters were rushing forward, cutting and striking with newfound strength. More of them appeared from every side. Howls and screeches pierced the air. Some newfound urgency was animating them—some kind of unfathomable rage.

The soldiers stiffened but held their ground. There was no doubt or question in any of their eyes; this had been a last stand from the beginning. Rikti hastened to join their ranks. The sea of foes flowed over his head. He fought on, unflinching. It wasn’t that he had no fear. He was afraid, more afraid than he’d ever been. He wondered if Mokti had made it out of the city. He wondered if his friends were hurt. He wished they could have been here with him. But the fears made him grateful more than anything else. He knew what he was fighting for now—not his destiny, not his pride, but his own simple choice to defend Neopia. It was a beautiful thing. He fought on.

The action was twice as brutal and disordered as it had ever been. But in the midst of it, even with his rational senses clouded by the fervor of battle, Rikti was suddenly aware of a crucial thought: there should have been more. Was this all Jahbal could manage? Was this all his fury was worth?

It’s all a trifle to him, Tylix had said. Rikti understood now. Though he could not put it into words, his restless mind seized on the truth. All of this was Jahbal’s ego. Jahbal believed Neopia was his by rights; that Sunnytown’s magic was his to capture at his leisure; that no one could stand up to him in this new era. He thought himself invincible. Ha! Rikti had learned that lesson a while ago, and it hadn’t cost him an army to do it.

There was a space in the action, and the soldiers paused to gasp for breath. The monsters’ movements were slowing. Watching them, Rikti could sense Jahbal’s will flagging. Maybe no one else could tell, but Rikti had seen it. He had felt that terrible presence, and now he could feel it waver. With renewed gusto he strode forward. Somehow he took the lead, and a ragged crowd of soldiers gathered behind him. And for the last time, with the smoke and ash swirling up about them, the Neopians of Sunnytown met their foes.

A while later—a hundred years later, as far as Rikti could tell—he heard someone calling his name from the outskirts of the battle. It was Evett, staggering in from what was left of the mages’ district. Tylix was trailing behind him, half-clinging to his scruff. It was hard to tell which of them looked worse.

“Hey!” shouted Rikti. He ran to them and propped Tylix up on his shoulder. “Hey, you’re freezing all over! What were you doing back there?”

“I don’t know,” mumbled Tylix. His head was nodding even as he spoke. “Ill-advised things, as usual.”

“Um, I yelled at Jahbal,” Evett said. “That, yeah. That happened. Then we came to look for you.”

Rikti stared at them openmouthed. They were alive. That was the important thing. He wanted to give them both a hug, but he wasn’t sure how high he could lift his arms at this point. He settled for ushering them to the back corner of a ruined parlor where they could rest. For a moment he crouched there, trying his best to warm up Tylix’s paws. “Well, good work,” he said. “I could tell something changed. Bet it was your doing.”

Footsteps crunched on the rubble. Rikti swung around, already preparing a thrust, but his movement was blocked as if by an invisible wall. Eleus Batrin was walking calmly toward them, one hand outstretched with a golden glow. He looked completely uninjured, save a few smudges that might have been a trick of the light.

“E-Eleus?” Rikti asked shakily. “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t I say I would watch you?” Eleus lowered his arm, and Rikti felt the wall dissipate. “I had my doubts about you when we first met, but you have all proved yourself tonight. You deserve to know everything.”

“Everything?” Evett said in a tiny voice.

Eleus nodded slowly. “I dare speak it only in my own abode. I will not compel you to venture there. But if you wish to take up the final challenge, you will find me in Kal Panning.”

A chill went down Rikti’s spine. He was tired of being so afraid all the time, but it seemed things were only getting worse. “The final challenge… you mean Jahbal? Uh, I’d love to, Eleus, but—“

“The gem on the staff you gave Evett was red, wasn’t it?” interrupted Tylix. Even half-slurring and glassy-eyed, his gaze was fixed on the old Kyrii. “But the magic you just used has a yellow tint. Why do you have a shock talent? And why is the Ghost City your abode? Something’s not right… Eleus.”

Rikti froze. In his exhaustion he hadn’t even noticed. There was a long silence as Eleus returned Tylix’s stare. Then with an inhale he drew himself up to his full height. In the gloom of the wrecked parlor, his silhouette was that of a king: the stern, unbending backbone of a nation. He stood and faced the trio head-on, as if daring them to speak again.

“That’s not the Eleus I know,” Rikti murmured. A thought was dawning in him. He remembered the noon light on the little porch in the smithy. The tears in the old codger’s eyes. “Eleus is… he’s always a little sad. Thoughtful. Looking back at things the rest of us can’t see. You’re not like that. I don’t think you’d look back for anything.”

“Your insight is keen,” said the one who faced them. His voice, suddenly stripped of Eleus’ reedy tones, rang out like a bell. “Yes, I do not look back. I have done so only once, to my great detriment. The time has come for the river to flow on, and for myself to drown beneath it. If you come to Kal Panning, then you will know.”

There was no malice in him. Rikti could feel none of the oppressive dread that had struck him that night in the Temple of Roo. But the note of pride—the calm clarity of utter power—was the same.

Without another word Eleus, or whoever he was, turned and walked away. The trio watched him shuffle down the road. His back was bent once more, and he looked every bit the harmless old loremaster he had seemed to be. Soon his form vanished beyond sight. He was heading east to the beleaguered city wall and beyond, into the quiet land where the sun would rise in a few hours’ time. Never again would that voice be heard in Sunnytown.

Of all this Rikti only understood a little. The hours of tears and pain were beginning to overwhelm his mind. But he could still move. He could fight. That, at least, was his role.

“Don’t tell me you’re going back,” said Evett weakly. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“More than enough. But as long as there’s something out there to do, I’m gonna do it.” He covered Evett and Tylix with his cloak, hesitated, and then gave them a hug after all. “I swear I’ll be back. I’m an old hand at making promises, you know.” Then he turned and ran into the battle.

The wind was changing. The fires were going out, one by one. The stars were twinkling clear and bright. When the sun came, it would shine on a field of victory.

———

A week had passed. The breeze was cool and dry over the ocean, bringing with it a reminder of winter. The sun was shining just as Rikti had promised. The smoke had blown away, the fires were extinguished; Sunnytown had reclaimed its name.

It had been a hard-fought battle, no doubt. The mages’ district was burned beyond recognition. The east gate was in tatters. The system of watchtowers and shelters that had kept the Neopians of the city safe for generations lay in ruins. And there were many among those Neopians who would never pass through the little shops again, or stand on the banks and fish, or come home to a warm hearth and a song. Even for a city accustomed to such things, that loss was hardest of all.

Rikti and Evett sat on the dock, swinging their legs. The abandoned shipyard where they had practiced was now a sprawling sickbay; healers rushed from cot to cot, and boats full of supplies crammed the water. And yet amid the groans and complaints of the wounded, there was a sense of determined optimism. The buzz and hubbub was more deafening than ever. Rikti wished he could summon a bit of that energy for himself. The heady rush of swordplay had long since faded, and now all he could think of was the grim task waiting up ahead.

“So we’ll leave day after next, then?” he said finally. “Are you feeling up to it?”

“As up to it as I’ll ever be,” said Evett with a sigh. He was looking better after a week of herbal concoctions, but he sounded hollow. “I wish we could stay. Help clean up, at the very least. After all they’ve done to help us…”

“Speak for yourself,” Rikti retorted archly. “I’ve spent the past five days stacking crates!” Well, he had gotten off rather easy. A torn wing wasn’t much compared to Evett’s second confrontation with Jahbal in as many weeks, or Tylix’s limbs practically frozen to his side. Speaking of which—

“He’ll be fine,” said Evett, catching Rikti’s sidelong glance at one of the cots. A certain Kacheek was still sleeping there, swathed in bandages. “The apprentices will take care of him. Don’t worry.”

“Me? Who said I was worried? You know, I think it’d take the sky falling to keep him down.” But Rikti couldn’t help chewing his lip. Tylix’s pallor still didn’t look quite healthy. He’d done so much for Evett and Rikti, so much that Rikti couldn’t even understand why. And now they were going to leave him behind.

Evett had told him about what Tylix had said—about the visions going away. Rikti was certainly glad to be done with them, not that he’d ever grasped them in the first place. He still felt revolted at the thought of seeing Swampedge City up in flames again. But he wondered how Tylix felt. Those dreams had been more important to him than anything.

“What am I talking about?” he muttered. “I bet he’s glad to be rid of all this. And he deserves some peace and quiet, anyway.”

“He does. And in any case, we don’t have time to wait. If Jahbal launches another attack, Neopia won’t be able to fight him off. We’ve got to go east and figure something out.” But even as Evett spoke he seemed to shrink. There was something off about him. Was it his eyes? Or the color of his pelt? He looked… paler.

“We’ll manage somehow. Eleus, or whoever, will have an idea. Anyway, how are your knees? I’m no mage, of course, but I’ve been thinking it’s your stance that’s holding you back…” Rikti began to lecture Evett on his motions. But even this, his favorite topic in all its comforting familiarity, didn’t quite feel the same. He couldn’t help but turn to the side again. Thinking, wishing, hoping for that irritating presence.

Then he blinked. The cot was empty.

“Stance?” said a supercilious voice from behind him. “Well, this sounds useful. Why didn’t you tell me before I blasted my limbs to pieces?”

There he was, standing on the dock with his arms folded. The bandages swirling around him in the breeze made him look like some hideous Babaa. “T-Tylix!” Rikti cried. “What are you doing? I thought you were sleeping!” He stood up and grabbed Tylix by the shoulders, expecting him to crumple at any second.

“I woke up,” said Tylix, as if it were obvious. “I couldn’t just let you two stroll off alone, could I?”

“Yes! You could’ve!” Evett said plaintively. “You’d be free. You wouldn’t have to put yourself in danger anymore!”

“You decided now was the time to be considerate?” Tylix bellowed. “I’m coming along, like it or not!”

The nurses shushed him sourly. He straightened up and, slowly, his face sobered. “Also… you know what happened with the dreams. They’re gone now. I’ve got to find something else.”

“Are you sure?” said Rikti. “I mean…”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Tylix admitted. “But I realized during the battle… I’ve changed. If there’s any hope at all to avert the future I saw, then it’s with you. So I’ll—I’ll trust you instead. I’ll try and achieve my dream another way. Though I don’t know how much help I’ll be.” He blushed furiously, but he was also smiling. It was the purest smile Rikti had ever seen from him.

He’s so annoyingly persuasive. Rikti let go of Tylix’s shoulders and coughed to hide his sudden flare of emotion. “Oh. Well, have it your way. I guess I don’t mind having you around.”

“We’re glad to have you,” said Evett. His gaze was so soft. There was something behind it, some terrible sadness, that Rikti couldn’t see. “You’re a real friend.”

“And you know what that means?” Rikti interrupted loudly. “Get back in bed and take your medicine! Don’t even talk to me about your stance till you’re in tip-top shape.”

“For your information, I’m a model patient,” Tylix said with a huff. But he complied and left the dock with a last wave, his bandages trailing behind him in a soggy procession.

“What a guy,” said Rikti. “Hey, Evett, mind getting me some supper? I think I’m back on crate duty now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Kids these days, so lazy…”

“How old are you?!”

And the three of them turned and went their separate ways. They wandered in their thoughts: the infinite worlds of their own making, the mists that no eye could pierce.

Rikti occupied himself with strategies for the danger ahead and foolhardy hopes that he could never quite shake off.

Tylix’s mind turned to the friends he had made, and the golden light that shimmered at the edge of his sight.

Evett tried in vain to remember the name of his hometown.

Worlds were converging. Thoughts were becoming one. Two days from now, the last stage of their journey would begin.

To be continued…