She paced back and forth in her cage. There was no mistaking that sound. That pain had clawed its way from her throat, a lifetime ago. Her light knife cracked the air repeatedly as her weapon sheathed and unsheathed.

  “Get this ship in gear now!” She screamed into the walls.

  Draven's head poked in the door, his brows pinched in concern. “What’s going on?”

  Her arm fizzled as her knife withdrew, and her eyes met Draven’s. “Her mother.”

  Draven staggered. Garzha was titled – she couldn’t be dead.

  All but Meen-Tra gathered on the bridge – the observation deck. DG assembled a round table, per Pat’s request. Where before a single arm had delivered Ren his supplies, now – an army came down from the ceiling and popped up from the floor. They reminded Ren of watching a laser printer, as they quickly turned hunks of wood into a sturdy work of art.

  As the crew took their seats, the smell of burnt wood was fresh in the air. The mood was somber. The ship's fireflies, in a constant motion, hung overhead, their bodies dim and wings still.

  Hecate was the first to speak, “Vatagand a powerful beasty – to be sure, but Garzha wanna fall to it. Somthin aint right.”

  “DG’s gonna spend all their mana, but we’ll get to Murkspire as fast as we can. Now, does anyone have any questions about their quarters or the ship's colour scheme? We do have certain liberties. Also, if anyone–”

  The glow of a lightsaber fell across the table's length as Mitzy’s eyes bored a hole through Pat, “Meen-Tra will have vengeance. On the endless lolli’s of Lecker Smecker, I swear it.”

  Draven frowned. Mitzy was reminding him too much of home. Nosh and Mog shared a look.

  “Well, I see our death as imminent. Garzha was with a straight beast…

  Ren paused and realized he might need to clarify on that last comment.

  “A really high level. He was taking her to meet some shamans – dude made my skin tingle. Anywho, if all them couldn’t handle it, I’d say we’re cooked.”

  Draven watched a smoke ring lazily drift toward the center of the table. “The Council is rivaled by none.”

  Ren kicked his feet up. His danger sense tingled. Mitzy eyed his toes as if they were the enemy. He inched them away as he spoke, “What about the Wayfarer’s?”

  Mog and Nosh exchanged hand gestures, and Hecate narrowed his eyes. The [Ranger] disapproved of the apprentice’s use of their traditional language for gambling. Mog was confident in his wager and kept his eyes on Ren’s feet, “They are weak, almost non-existent. In the aftermath of the Wars… without Garzha, they are nothing.”

  Ren sucked on his teeth, “Hey Draven, isn’t that the thing we were gonna do with Thalgor…you know that guy nobody seems to care about anymore.”

  Draven leaned on his elbows, watching as some sufficiently somber fireflies became brazenly bashful and joined in the show, flipping through his smoke rings like circus performers.

  Nosh filled the silence – picking up from where his fellow apprentice left off. “Most young folk prefer city life. It's how Mog and I ended up apprentices to Hecate. Getting lost in some dark dungeon or on the edges of the Mire – it's just not that appealing. City life is… glamorous, and the bonus experience is hard to resist. Look at Draven, even the fabled Grumakh lose their best and brightest.”

  “Oh, they threw him out – he reaped his parents' souls,

  Ren was foolishly inventorying his candy while the rest of the table feared for his digits, except Draven, who pulled out another rune-stick.

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  “I just want to know one thing. Can I surf the vatagand, like in that one movie – Drewn? You know what I mean, Pat? With that privilege dude – who thinks kids are free.”

  “Dune.” Pat corrected.

  A crack split the air as a shadow fell across Ren’s sandals.

  “Thas enuf – get sum rest. Ren lad, yur a fool.” As Hecate exited the room, he stopped between his apprentices, swiping something from under the table, “I’ll take tha.”

  A knock on Meen-Tra’s door. She did not stir. A moment later, Ren entered carrying a plate of food. Her room was basic; she hadn’t made changes like Mitzy. The mecha had set up a lab before her door sealed shut.

  Meen-Tra stared at the floor as Ren took a seat. Ren munched on a slice of fruit that tasted like cinnamon strawberries, but looked like an apple. He considered his options – he needed to be delicate here.

  He bounced a piece of fruit off her face. It rolled to the floor. His upper lip curled in distaste. He was going to have to do this the hard way – by talking. “How do you know she’s gone?”

  She opened her fist – revealing a gold ring. Her skin was like ice as he took it from her. It's simple, elegant etchings reminded him of Gaelic art.

  He placed it on the table and took her by the hand. “My mother was killed. I still – If I could–

  Ren tried to find the right words. He hated thinking of her death, of the way she had died. He preferred to remember the good times and not what had been taken.

  “I’m sorry, Meen-Tra. It doesn’t really get easier. But you…grow with the pain, at least I have.”

  Meen-Tra sniffled, “The ring was an apexing gift. She lied to me – told me it would keep her safe. When I got older, I learned it was a lie – just a simple buff, nothing special.”

  Ren nodded, “Yeah, parents do that, try and make us feel safe. It's their job, it's like in the manual or whatever – at least that’s what mom used to say.” He chuckled.

  Some of the warmth returned to her hand, so Ren tried holding the plate of food under her nose. No response. He lifted it closer, in case she hadn’t noticed. Her eyes narrowed.

  “Attention, all hands on deck, report to the bridge.”

  Ren shook his head, “Treky.”

  Meen-Tra scooped up the ring and hucked it into the bin as she exited the room.

  Team Hecate, Ren was hoping he would take the job. They needed an experienced leader. Team Hecate stood around the observation window. The vibes were off – something was up. You could hear a pin drop as Ren approached, and none seemed to notice him.

  Even their stoic leader held his breath.

  Ren turned his attention to the landscape. It seemed like any other swamp day: dense foliage, still waters, and trees like mountains looming overhead. The visibility was…good. Where normally fog abounded, today it did not.

  “Huh, that’s odd. Did you guys–”

  Life and death. Rebirth. Nature in harmony – a constant flux. From whence a land of primordial ooze came life. Lifetimes upon lifetimes, gone and lost – their memories folded into the land.

  These things and more washed Ren’s consciousness, like a raging storm, drenching the land.

  A kaleidoscope of images. He was mother, father, friend, neighbor, and he was hope and despair. A billion combinations within a million lifetimes – a small fraction of what had been. It was all his mind could handle.

  Throughout them all, a presence, a gentle guiding force, pushing for change, and striving for perfection. God’s exchanging pieces on a chessboard – who would win and who would lose. What worlds would be lost in the balance – did it matter?

  Time was an infinite construct. In the void, nothing changed. Without change, there can be no measure.

  In the battlefield of their minds, a thing was born. It shattered reality and shaped it anew. It stole from their creators. The game must end. An outcome would be determined.

  The immortal mind struggles to communicate with that which it can’t comprehend. It has waited for a mind, and a time, and a place, a people, but most of all a conflict. It understands conflict and denies fate. Random chaos delivered its chance, and the time had finally come.

  Ren fell without end. The void embraced him. A pinpoint of light, it was time to go. She needed his help. It was his fate, not because he must, but because he would – what else could he do, she was watching.

  He woke with a start. Struggling to take his feet as hands sought to restrain him, Ren snarled, fighting them off. He pressed against the glass, beating his fists.

  DG4 parted their tinted surface like water. Team Hecate stepped back as Ren walked onto the bow. Unfiltered sunlight kissed his skin, and Ren fell to his knees, arms reaching to the sky.

  “I’m here, I’ve come – please, I can help.”

  There

  He saw it, just a flicker, a tiny mote – it shone like the sun. Ren scrabbled onto the masthead, grasping like a man drowning.

  A smile lit his face as the mote struck him in his core. He was lifted on his feet with the force of a crashing wave.

  Mitzy’s eyes shot wide.

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