A nerve-racking week goes by before the group is ready to discuss the threat that is looming over their heads. Amber is back on her feet – ready to press on. Her enthusiasm is a power battery for all of them to draw from. Harley is the first to break the companionable silence, they’re using Vukosava’s backyard to discuss important matters.

  Harley is twisting a long piece of grass between her fingers. “Now, we're actually functioning again and not on the brink of death. I suppose I’ll start things off – we’re in the shitter bigtime. Nathen and I don’t have any special chant to send the Red bitch back.”

  “In other words, the mediums are firing nothing but bnks.” Nathen concludes in an editorial tone. “We don’t have a sure-fire way to close the portal – considering all kinds of nasties are spilling out of it.”

  “How could that be?” Vukosava asks mildly.

  “You see – there’s one problem, that portal into our dimension is widening. It’d take a tremendous amount of power to close it. I guess the best comparison I have is with haunted houses – some of them contain demonic energy and entities. If they hold them long enough, that house gradually shifts - becoming evil itself.” Nathen looks over to Harley who gives an approving nod. “With something like this – we’d need more than two mediums, and if that portal is a house, burn it down.”

  John is tossing around a football between his left and right hands. “We don’t have explosives. I can’t exactly run up to mum and dad – and be like, hey can you bomb the fuck out of this pce?”

  “Would it actually close the portal or dye everything in dust?” James asks, rubbing his chin.

  Amber shakes her head. “Charles has told me it’s not that simple.”

  “Great. So, what can we do?”

  “The same thing, Vics and I discussed.” John sets the ball down. “We talk.”

  “Are you sure she’d entertain the idea of talking with us – not just flick us out of the way like some unwanted insect?” Harley grumbles loudly.

  “Fighting her is a no go – we’ll have two threats to deal with. Sir Victor and the Queen herself.”

  “But what if fighting becomes our only option, what then?” James splutters. “I’m all for believing in diplomacy – but what if the Red Queen is set in her ways?”

  “Then we move onto Pn B.” Vukosava folds her hands together. “We get help from the professionals.”

  “Professionals – who would those be?” Amber politely asks.

  “Not the deadly duo from Bcklife, right?” Harley interjects pointedly. “The criminal investigators?”

  “That’d be a massive mistake.” James smirks. “We’d end up doing each other in.”

  “Carlos and his buddies.” Vukosava fills in.

  “So, the screaming lunatic on one side and his therapist on the other? I suppose there’s worse options.” Harley looks over to Amber. “What kind of dirt does Charles have on her?”

  “He can show us the past – we just need to open our minds.” Amber replies. “You need to calm the waters of your mind, treat it like a rippling pool, lessen those ripples.”

  “That fills me with confidence.” Nathen audibly rexes. “When he starts to speak in riddles.”

  “Let’s get started, shall we?” John and the others close their eyes, a tight knit circle of adolescents facing off against the world. The best they can do is treat the rippling of one’s mind simir to exercises in yoga – releasing the pent-up energy and allowing it to settle outside of them. To have a weight taken off their souls.

  “Your minds are clear. Good. Be sure to keep in mind. If your thoughts become clouded, I won’t be able to show you what you seek.” Charles Derhert’s voice echoes, reverberating at the back of their skulls and working its way round to their eyes and ears. “I will now color your imagination with my own, with my memories.”

  -

  “I have to say, I’m quite impressed. You truly are remarkable.”

  “You think so? Do you really? I’ve never heard it before.” Charles Derhert is young and green, he’s standing alongside an older man, with a face marked with the passage of time. A great adventure that continues to sparkle in his eyes – he’s seen so much.

  “Clearly, they didn’t say it enough to you. Or not at all.” The man leans down, patting the youth on the shoulder. “After all, I’ve been wanting a companion for quite a while.”

  “You’d actually accept me? You will not be disappointed – I promise you!”

  “I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. It’s a pleasure to have you, my young companion.”

  It’s a sad thing to realise who it is. Fodor Dresk – taking on a man cast aside by his own family.

  “Where are we going? Are we crossing those mountains?” Charles Derhert points off into the distance.

  “We’re doing more than just that – there’s a river as well. I want to cut through the desert. Have you seen one?”

  “No.” Charles Derhert looks down. “I’ve never seen one.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that – you’re like a flower, Charlies, it takes time for one to fully bloom.” Fodor Dresk turns around to face the Derhert family. “We’ll be going now. The capital of Avaron is where we shall be.”

  “Make sure the brat doesn’t cause problems – as he has for us.” His father is happy for him to go, or is he? There’s a moment of hesitation, will he dismiss his son, have him leave his old life behind? It’s not so simple, is it? Charles Derhert is his flesh and blood.

  Yet, for the first time in that young boy’s life, his mind is perfectly clear. There’s no nightmares.

  “I’m going, father, you’ll see me in the capital. I’ll use my talents to the fullest.”

  “Are you sure about this, boy? Your life here was – easy.”

  There’s a threatening undertone to run alongside it. “A lot can happen in a pce like that.”

  “He’ll be at my side. I won’t leave him.” Fodor Dresk promises sternly. “Come, Charles, it’s time to begin our adventure into the new world.”

  It’s going to be a long, arduous journey to the capital of Avaron. The Usurper’s War caused a lot of problems for the local people – and lines were drawn in the sand. Charles Derhert couldn’t stop his premonitions from coming true, his loving and caring family lost their beloved son, his older brother to the war. He never returned home.

  -

  “Give me one moment.” Charles Derhert says to them. “It’s been a long time.”

  They wait patiently for the image in their minds to solidify once more – it’s like being stuck in a dream. Everything is hazy and trippy. Vukosava couldn’t believe how quickly the group could adapt to this method of communication – usually spirits and entities take more time to get familiar with. It’s an instant link.

  “That’s okay, Charles.” Amber says gently. “We need to see what happened.”

  Their voices were not external but internal, Vukosava could hear the words with perfect articution.

  “Of course. It won’t be long before Fodor and I arrive in the Ancient City of Duskenveil.”

  “The Capital of the Kingdom of Avaron – it has a long and proud history. The World History Archive considered it one of the most dazzling cities in the Western World. Of course, where there is great beauty there is often something that hides beneath the flowers, so to speak.” Vukosava can feel the group’s need for crification, an innate sense that’s been born out of always being the carrier of historical information.

  “Indeed. The Prince’s deception was easy to hide; he was the great hope of King Harald and Queen Josphine.” Charles Derhert adds helpfully.

  “To create something new, something better.” Amber and Charles are in sync. “The legacy of the King instilled the belief of conquest. Whatever stands in front of him is his to cim – why should one single human life be any different than a kingdom?”

  It’s a haunting thing, the past shapes the present - and the present moulds the future. With the passage of time, the past cims the present. The cycle begins again.

  “Now, I will show you Catherine Mallory as I understand her.” Charles Derhert states pinly.

  -

  “Here we are, Charles. Duskenveil – quite a different pce after all the battles.” Fodor Dresk looks around with a scrutinizing eye. “I wonder – is this really the pce to be?”

  “Of course it is.” Charles Derhert, very much a young man jumps with enthusiasm. “We went through the desert to get here. I want to see these colleagues of yours. Speak with them.”

  “Your enthusiasm mends my cautious heart, Charles. Very well – let us not waste time.” Fodor Dresk makes his way into the artistic grounds. The buildings rise taller and grander than anything Charles had ever seen. His eyes glow and he starts pointing with endless fascination.

  His world had been so small before – he didn’t have access to these amazing instruments.

  “I’ll be teaching you personally, Charles.”

  “What about my dreams? Do I ignore them?”

  “No. They’re a part of you – just remember you have to find bance.” Fodor Dresk instructs. “They may contain some truth, but that doesn't mean that you should rely on them.”

  “Of course, Master Dresk. I’ll remain calm.”

  “It’ll do you a lot of good, Charles. There’s no reason to feel fear.”

  After a peaceful moment passes, a man with white hair and beard walks up. “I see that you’ve found a new student, Fodor, where did you find this one?”

  “Out in the wilderness, that’s where the best ones are found.” Fodor embraces the man with a big smile. “You’re looking young, Dominik, what have you been doing, enjoying the merriments?”

  Dominik looks down at his slightly swollen belly. “Your jests wound me greatly, I mistook you for a sapling when you arrived. Is this young one going to be your st, Fodor?”

  “Perhaps. I have to find one to merge with.” Fodor reflects aloud. “Otherwise, I’ll be looking like you.”

  Dominik ughs heartily. “Yes, they keep you active and thin. Who are you, d?”

  The young d nods respectfully. “I’m Charles Derhert, I’m here to learn your wise ways.”

  “I wish you had manners like this, Fodor, you’ve always been an insufferable bastard.”

  “What can I say – I like making things interesting.”

  “Where did your adventures take you?” Dominik guides them to a sturdy wooden table. He’s a long serving master builder with a side passion for sculpturing.

  “I ventured towards the cold mountains – you know the ones. With the limestone.”

  “Ah, yes. The masons were certainly happy for the carters to arrive – took their sweet time.” Dominik scoffs in annoyance, though there is some humor underpinning it. “They’re getting more and more impatient now. Those boys and girls get clever with me – saying it’ll be a couple more years before I go.”

  “They love their teacher.” Fodor Dresk leans back in his chair. “They’re showing their appreciation.”

  “By making me wish that I could return from the dead with a stick.” Dominik mutters fervently. “You are right – I just never got the idea behind it. I have always been a fool.”

  “Humility? Is that something you’ve finally learned in your old age?” Fodor Dresk snorts.

  “You always find a way to irritate me. So, what about it, d? Do you want to be a mason?”

  “Look at his hands, Dominik, he hasn’t held anything like a chisel and hammer.”

  “I can put some more muscle on his bones – good food, good wine.”

  “A pig is not what I ventured for.” Fodor Dresk pats Charles Derhert on the shoulder.

  “True. In any case, I’ll have to return to the fortifications – make sure the bastards are not making mistakes.” Dominik is about to walk away, hitching up his tool belt and using his old measuring stick as a staff. “I’ve heard that the people want another contest – it’s been too long since the st one.”

  “You think I should compete?”

  “Not for the vanity of it – to get people interested in your good qualities.”

  Fodor Dresk straightens up in his chair. “Who would they love, the art or the man?”

  Author’s Note - I just wanted to let you all know that if you’ve read the previous chapter earlier on the 9th, I’ve made revisions for the flow of the story.