Thy Will be Done

"Please Mommy, I'm cold. How much longer is Daddy going to be?"

With a sigh, Elizabeth Leanora Langley turned her attention from the increasingly animated argument between her husband and what seemed to her an absurdly over-zealous airport security man given his request and glanced down once more to the little girl at her side. Her eldest daughter had been asking the same question for the past five minutes; not that Elizabeth could blame her. The man was being unnecessarily officious and she could tell that James was fast reaching the limit of his patience, his dark face flushed with growing anger and his broad shoulders tight as he towered over the other man.

"Oh come on now!" She could hear him now easily even through the rising surge around them as people prepared to move at a moment's notice, and she knew that his father's quick temper was beginning to get the better of him despite his attempts to remain calm and reasonable. "Lord! Ain't my clearance enough? What the hell you think my little girl's gonna do anyway, blow up the damn plane?! Come on! She just wants to see her Daddy safely on-board. Five minutes! Is that so much t' ask?"

"I'm sorry captain Langley sir." Came the answer in a tone that seemed to suggest he was nothing of the kind. "No one but passengers allowed on the plane. Now if you don't like it you're more than welcome to take it up with your superior or the President himself when you get to D.C., but I've got my job to do and I've got no more time to stand here arguing about it, and neither've you sir if you're gonna make the flight."

Watching her husband's dark skin flush a deeper angry red, Elizabeth sighed again and shook her head. He would probably have let the matter drop minutes earlier, preferring to spend his last few minutes with his family rather than in what was obviously a fruitless waste of time, but he had promised little Deânne that she could say goodbye to him on the plane and he never broke a promise if he could help it. Studying him, Elizabeth found herself smiling for a moment despite her growing irritation at what seemed now yet another example of his sometimes ill-considered rashness. He would never have admitted it, believing himself scrupulously fair with all his three children, but she had known somehow from the moment he had first held his tiny first-born daughter that he and Deânne would share a special closeness that he had somehow never quite managed with the son she had been certain would be closest to him, and it hurt him more than he would ever say whenever he had to let her down or whenever his too-frequent absences made her cry.

A man of intense conviction and a fierce Baptist morality learned from a large family and a childhood in which faith seemed to be the primary defining constant of their lives until he had left home to join the army at eighteen, James Thomas Langley, only son of a Scots-Irish father and Afro-American mother, army captain, CIA operative and now recalled early from his leave to take up his new post with one of the additional detachments of secret service agents assigned as Presidential bodyguards given the increasingly dangerous situation brought about by the recent spate of world-wide disasters and the unrest they had sparked, loved his family above everything with a fierce protectiveness that Elizabeth sometimes found almost frightening in its intensity.

They had met barely a week after his first posting and were married barely three months later despite her mother's initial unease concerning her daughter's marrying a man who had chosen to make the military his career. Not that Elizabeth had blamed her for her uncertainty. Having fled Castro's Cuba in the early sixties, the only survivor of a family of ten, Maria's distrust even of the American forces was more than understandable and it had not taken her long to accept the inevitable once she had met the tall, well-spoken Langley, her greatest concern in the end being his Baptist convictions and the fact that his swiftly-advancing career might mean she would see far less of her daughter and the many grandchildren she expected a good catholic girl to give her rather than anything else. August, Elizabeth's father, an immigrant who had come to upstate New York with his parents, two brothers and four sisters from West Berlin as a young man some ten years after the war, had simply smiled and kissed her and wished her all the happiness she could find.

For the tall, quietly-spoken but quick-tempered son of a man whose family had come from Derry (or Londonderry, as Thomas Langley always felt it necessary to point out when the subject was mentioned) to America during the worst deprivations of the great depression and to all the unlooked-for prosperity their new home had brought them and a woman whose great-grandmother had had the relative fortune to be slave to a family who had considered kindness and education preferable to the beatings and brutality all too accepted in their time, Elizabeth, small, dark and delicately pretty, whom he had loved with a boundless intensity almost from the moment he had met her at a charity dance, warm and bubbly yet with a quiet core of steel to match his own quicker fire, with her mother's strict adherence to a Roman Catholicism his Presbyterian father had always despised and his Baptist mother deeply distrusted, had seemed to him an unattainable hope forever beyond his reach. Then he had met her parents, and Maria, although wary and after a warning glare that had made it very clear that his intentions towards her daughter had better be honourable and that had had even him ready to turn and bolt as far and as fast as he could, had smiled suddenly and taken his arm and welcomed him warmly to their home. And upon his entering the large and cosy parlour, August had risen from a low armchair by the fire and caught and shaken his hand with a quiet strength that had astounded him. And he had known in that moment that somehow as always the Lord had seen him through and that he had not hoped in vain.

His own parents had proved little less intransigent, although he still smiled whenever he recalled their first meeting with Elizabeth's equally large family and the first, thunderous religious disagreement between Maria Bach and Thomas Langley that had culminated in the small, fiery Cuban woman catching the huge Scots-Irishman a cracking back-hand to the cheek and had ended with her being held back by August and an astonished Harriet while Elizabeth just shook her head and he simply stood and stared open-mouthed. He had never before seen his father so utterly lost for a response to any situation and it had been perfectly obvious that Maria was not the least intimidated and was quite ready to try pounding home her point of view despite the fact that she was little more than half his size.

From that day, the two had become fast although volatile friends and even now no family gathering was complete without at least one spirited debate between them while August and Harriet talked easily and kept an eye on them to see that things did not get entirely out of hand. Although fierce in her Baptist convictions, Harriet Langley was a steadier soul and a calming counterpoint to Thomas's driving intensity. It did no harm also that, although slow to anger, she was nevertheless more than capable of holding her own when she felt it necessary.

For their only son, an often dichotomous mixture of his mother's quiet steadfastness and his father's consuming fire, Elizabeth had proved that same strength and balance, a steadying and unbreakable anchor to his sometimes rash and overbearing intensity. To him, she was his light and his life and all the good and warmth and happiness there could be, a quiet, calming respite from the deadly world in which too often he was forced to move. To her, he was soulmate and confidant and a boundless strength and security, her absolute in a world in which so few things were certain.

Now, as she turned her attention once more for a moment to the small, bright bundle of boundless energy beside her, Elizabeth felt a surge of love for her family that made her throat suddenly tight and her breath for a moment short and painful.

At her mother's side, the little girl had jumped yet again from her place and was bounding from foot to foot, her long pony-tale dancing and her dark, pretty face set in a scowl as she bounced up and down and turned this way and that, dark eyes flashing as she waited with her usual impatience for her father to finish whatever he was arguing about with the stupid airport policeman so that she could say goodbye to him inside the big plane that would soon be taking him away to his new and very secret job in the President's own house. It wasn't fair sometimes that Daddy's work made him have to stay away so long, but he had hugged her tight and explained that what he did was very important and kept God's good people safe from those who might want to harm them, and this job was most important of all. Besides, this time she and Mommy and her brother and little sister would only have to wait two weeks before they would be moving too, and she would have so much to look forward to including school after next summer. Maybe if she was very good he might even be able to take her to the White House itself and let her see inside and perhaps she could even meet the President. She had beamed at that, twining small arms fiercely around his neck while thinking that perhaps it would not be so bad after all, even though she had had to say goodbye to Karen and Dana and Elena and all her other friends which had made her cry until her sometimes- nasty elder brother had teased her and she had hit him. That had made her feel better, even though Mommy had scolded her and even Daddy had frowned and flashed his dark eyes in a way that always told her when she was in trouble. Hitting James Jr. could usually make things better if she was particularly upset.

At only a few days passed her fifth birthday, Deânne, like the others, was no stranger to flying, but unlike her elder brother who hated it, she never seemed to tire of planes, or roller-coasters or anything else that was fast or dangerous, indeed Elizabeth often joked that the little girl would probably be a trained pilot before she went to school with all her ceaseless questions and all she had already seen. She had been talking about almost nothing but the trip for weeks and she had thought her father's promise that she would be able to go inside the plane before he had to leave more than worth the midwinter cold and having to get up so early for church and drive through all the snow, or at least she had when they had started. Now, as her brother (who was definitely nasty this morning) seemed to have decided that poking her just hard enough to make her mad but not quite hard enough to make her really want to hit him and so attract their mother's attention might relieve his own boredom and her younger sister Linna set up yet another protesting plea to be allowed to get out of her pram and walk, Deânne was not so sure. Her father was getting really angry and it seemed that the stupid policeman was not going to let her on the plane no matter what he said. It wasn't fair.

Beside her, her mother smiled indulgently down at her and squeezed her tight for a moment before releasing her and turning back towards the still-arguing pair, but Deânne was far from placated and her mood was not exactly improved a moment later when, seeing his mother's attention fully distracted, James decided it was time to pull her hair. That did it.

With a squeal of pain and a sudden burst of her father's fire, the little girl whipped around before he had a chance to back away and would have hammered one small fist into his mouth with all the strength she had, had not her mother been quicker. A moment later Deânne found herself picked up and looking into her mother's smouldering dark eyes while her brother scuttled frantically to relative safety on the farther side of Linna's pram.

For a moment Elizabeth continued to stare down at her daughter in silence, her small mouth set into a thin line of disapproval while she waited for the inevitable flurry of protest. Although almost a year and a half his junior, Deânne had almost half an inch on her brother and both their parents had begun to suspect that the teasing from his friends (not to mention Deânne herself) concerning the fact that he inevitably ended up on the receiving end of any skirmish with her was mostly responsible for their increasingly frequent fighting. Not that any of his friends had fared much better. Of the two, Deânne was by far the more aggressive, her brother's only real chance being to tease her until her quick temper made her careless, while to her, fighting seemed to come as naturally as the almost dichotomous warmth and gentleness she could sometimes show, even to him given the right circumstances. Today however she was not of a mind to be gracious.

"He started it!" She flared, the tears already gone though it had hurt, twisting with amazing agility in her mother's arms to glare at James Jr. with a look that promised dire consequences when she next had the chance. "He was poking me and he pulled my hair!"

She might have said and done a good deal more, but at that moment their father turned in their direction and she was distracted by the look in his eyes as he approached and halted beside them.

"I'm sorry Pony." He said softly, settling heavily at his wife's side and reaching to take the little girl from her arms and hold her close. "I tried honey but they're not letting anyone but passengers on the plane, not even to say goodbye. I'm sorry."

In truth he knew he should have expected it. The unexplained world-wide phenomena of the past few weeks had everyone on edge and seemed to have brought an unending stream of maniacs out of the woodwork from straight-out lunatics to crackpot doomsday fanatics who had recalculated this year as the new millennium and the beginning of the end of the world, and although he was taking a commercial flight, it seemed that it would be carrying other military personnel and they simply could not afford to take chances.

Beside him, Elizabeth shook her head, a sudden quick flare of anger at the hurt in Deânne's eyes when he more than anyone should have known this would happen making her own eyes flash for a moment before she took a calming breath and shifted a little to let the little girl settle down between them. She turned to him, about to say something she would probably immediately have regretted when abruptly the call came for his flight and she realised with a sudden unreasoning start of unease that it was time for him to go.

Quickly they stood, James bending to slap his son gently on the shoulder and ruffle his hair rather than do something that might earn him more teasing from his sister before turning to lift little Linna from her pram and hold her close.

"You be sure and be a good girl for your mother" He said as he kissed her goodbye. "and I'll see you in a few days, ok?"

Linna beamed up at him, her small arms twined about his neck and her blue eyes sparkling with the simple trust of her two and a half years.

"Bye-bye Daddy." She chirruped, squeezing tighter for a moment before kissing him on the cheek and beginning to squirm to get down.

Laughing, he set her on her feet and turned to Deânne. The little girl flew into his arms, twining both arms fiercely about his neck and bursting into a sudden flood of tears. Although she loved her mother fiercely, her Daddy was special and she missed him desperately whenever he had to go away.

"Hey Pony" He murmured, his own voice catching suddenly as he held her close. "Come on now. I'll see you again so soon you'll hardly know I've been gone and you have the plane-ride to look forward to and the new house and all the fun we're gonna have."

Yet even as he tried to smile, she clung suddenly to him with a fierce almost painful desperation and a sudden unreasoning thrill of fear seemed to take hold of him, almost as though caught from what seemed for a moment that was forever the stark terror in his daughter's eyes, and for a heartbeat he faltered, Deânne clutched desperately close in his arms while he stood suddenly trembling and unable to move or understand the fear until at last she began to squirm a little and the spell was broken.

"Daddy, you're squeezing too tight." She said, trying to get more comfortable. Her father's expression was suddenly so strange and something she could not understand had made her suddenly frightened and want to just hold on and hold on and never ever let go. "Please don't cry." She pleaded, and suddenly he was aware that tears were streaming down his face and he could not understand why or why he did not seem able to let her go. "I'll be brave and grown up and I'll help Mommy with Linna and make sure Mommy doesn't cry or get too lonely. And Mommy can help me write you because even though I'm big now it's really hard to remember how all the letters go together but I'll try so very hard so that you'll be proud of me. And I'll pray to Jesus every night so he'll watch over you and keep my Daddy safe. And I promise I'll be good and...and..."

And then she was crying so hard she could say no more, while her father's face was wrung with pain and beside them Elizabeth caught the look in her daughter's eyes and suddenly everything seemed deathly cold while icy dread crept slowly down her spine. Suddenly she wanted desperately to plead with him to stay, to forget the trip and take the leave they owed him. But she knew before she spoke that it was too late, and tears filled her own eyes as she heard his voice choked with emotion as he held his little girl and whispered a last goodbye to her before he at last eased her to the floor and turned to gather Elizabeth close.

"Hey, it's alright." He hushed her gently, trying to smile. "It's only a precaution Beth, a security upgrade because of a few crazy people. I'll be fine honey, you know I will, and it's only for a few weeks, just until things settle down. Then I'll take my leave and we'll go on vacation. Come on now. I think me and Pony have done enough crying for all of us and if I miss this flight a few weeks more before my leave'll be the least of my worries."

"I'm sorry." She said, trying to laugh through her tears and fighting down the fear.

But although she smiled as he made his final farewell to her and stood with the children as he hurried away at last, waving a final goodbye to him when he turned for one last moment to look back at her and flash her a last intense smile in his turn before disappearing in the crowd, the brief glimpse of the terror she had caught in Deânne's eyes would not leave her and a part of her screamed and screamed at her to run after him and plead with him to stay, and it was with a dreadful sense of unreasoning, terrible foreboding that she watched at last as the plane leapt skywards and moved when it was gone to settle little Linna once more in her pram despite her protests beckoning the two elder children to her side.

"Oh blessed virgin." She found herself praying suddenly, her soft words choking in the sudden seeming stillness, turning in that moment for a reason she could not have explained to the faith of her childhood rather than to that she had more or less accepted since her marriage. "Please watch over him this day and see that he comes to no harm. Holy mother of God protect him."

And with that and a warning that the children stay close, she turned and led them swiftly away.

But in a realm unknown to them a moment of dreadful destiny drew near; and her daughter was afraid.

It was just as he had tossed the last of the two bags he was carrying into the luggage-rack above his head that the voice came from behind him. "Hey! J-T!"

A moment later a hand slammed down on his shoulder and he turned, his melancholy lifting a little as he caught sight of the shorter man who now stood almost beside him.

"Hey John!" He returned, forcing a smile and pounding the other on the back in return with a huge hand that nearly drove him to his knees. "Thought you weren't flying out till later this afternoon."

"No sir." He answered, grinning as he snapped a quick salute. "They flew us in upstate early this morning, Al and Tom and Larry and I; probably couldn't wait to get us off the base."

Langley laughed, the gloom lifting still more as a genuine smile creased his features. "And decided to torment me by putting all four of you on my flight, Lieutenant? As if I ain't gonna have enough of you over the next few weeks? Or maybe they just wan'ed me on-board to make sure the plane was still in one piece when we got to D.C." His tone had just the right mixture of bite and sarcasm but the smile belied it completely and John Lansing's grin never faltered as he aimed a mock-blow at Langley's midriff. Then abruptly the captain's smile was gone. "You carrying weapons?" He asked quietly and suddenly Lansing was all professional attention. "Not that I'm expecting trouble, but..."

"Yes sir." He answered quickly. "Don't worry; we're ready sir should anything happen."

Langley nodded and might have said more, but at that moment the cabin PA crackled and at his gesture Lansing saluted and moved quickly back to his seat.

Glancing quickly about him, Langley noted the others had been seated at strategic points at some distance each from the rest and despite his question of a moment before he found himself smiling and shaking his head at someone's seeming paranoia. Just what, really, were they expecting to happen?

With a sigh he took his own seat and settled back. He intended to catch up on a couple of hours sleep before their arrival and the inevitable protracted checks, briefings and heaven only knew what else to which he would be subjected before he was allowed finally to get down to doing the job for which he had been sent. His head half turned as he gazed out of the window at the retreating terminal where he knew his family would be watching the departing plane, Langley let his thoughts turn for one last moment entirely to them, barely aware of the voice of the plane's captain as he prayed softly for a quiet moment before the aircraft turned and began to pick up speed and he turned quickly away.

"Lord protect them." He murmured one last time when at last they had climbed above the clouds and the city was lost behind them.

And with a heavy sigh, he settled back and closed his eyes. Yet although sleep rushed quickly to claim him, the fear followed him down into the darkness and he did not rest in peace.

Cold. Such had been this place even in the long-vanished time before the greatest guardian the realm of Helcion had yet known had abandoned the physical world to take up his abode in a kingdom he was to rule for time beyond measure, a place almost untouched even by the will of the dream-king himself, a hidden, silent place of cold and fear and midnight stillness.

Secluded and almost forgotten in the vastness of the land of dreams, it lay, a deep, secret hollow of fern and wood and midnight silence, stretching for perhaps half a mile from north to south and perhaps twice that from east to west, bordered to the south by dark, rolling uplands and to north, east and west by high, heather-covered moors as the land began to climb swiftly towards the midnight cold and perpetual mists of the northern highlands and the tall mountains beyond. From the north, a small stream, swift and icy-cold, fell with barely a whisper or ripple to flow out at last into a still, deep pool that lay almost at the centre of the dell, a cold, white fog drifting perpetually just above its surface, stirred only by the occasional murmur of the biting wind as it hissed and whispered in the darkness. No longer could errant thought or gathering dream shape this place, and no presence disturbed its midnight stillness save for the occasional dreamer, passing wraith-like in the dark as they wandered restlessly in the deepest depths of uneasy sleep, guided by fate to pass that way and so find for that night in the cloying dark and perpetual cold of the northern mists a dream they would rather not remember.

It was by the pool he stood, tall and silent, cloaked and hooded in deepest black, invisible save for the occasional stirring of the cloak and the piercing gleam of eyes like twin fires from beneath the hood as he gazed out unmoving into the silent, watchful darkness.

For what seemed an eternity of waiting, nothing disturbed the stillness save for the hissing whisper of the wind and for a little the faint, far-off cries of some tormented dreamer caught in the throws of nightmare, cut off suddenly as he awoke and vanished from the realm.

Then suddenly it was there, the barest flicker for an instant that was to him forever, a fleeting touch upon the very margins of his reality, a vanishing moment of choice in which he reached out with lightning swiftness to twist the exit of the opening portal into the land of dreams rather than the outskirts of the city of Tokyo in the real world, a fleeting, condescending smile at its creator's hubris touching his metaphorical face for a moment even as for a fractional instant the very fabric of Helcion was rent asunder and a darkness, more profound and absolute than the deepest horror of nightmare gaped wide before him. For a moment more he waited, while beyond the gate shadows twisted and lurid shapes of flame and horror seemed to flicker and dance upon the very edge of sight, and from far away came the screaming cries of tormented things.

Then suddenly the hell-red fires blazed high, and from the roiling horror they came, seven shapes at first vague and ill-defined, writhing and twisting upon the very verge of dissolution, captured soul-echoes from a dying omniverse reborn of the hatred of a creature of an infinite thirst for revenge that waxed, and grew, and were real. For a moment they hung as though suspended, twisted mockeries of themselves, hideous nightmare parodies that rippled and shifted in a reeling, sickening dance of nauseating change until suddenly, with a searing flash and thunderous crack of re-established form and identity they were hurtled headlong from the gate to fall at last limp and unmoving by the pool.

Still as death they lay before him, seven female forms fair and young, frozen as though captured at the very pinnacle of life, tall and beautiful, yet hard and cold as though cut from frozen crystal; and their faces, frigid in death, were wild and terrible.

Smiling fiercely in triumph, the cloaked figure moved swiftly to them, stooping to lift each in turn and lay her with sudden surprising gentleness by her companions, his face and the terrible power of his eyes softening for a little as he moved with quiet care to brush an errant lock of long, gleaming hair aside or settle slender hands more restfully.

Then swiftly he rose to look down upon them once more, his eyes straying to each in turn as he reached to touch souls as yet inanimate, learning in a fractional moment all he needed while they lay still quiescent.

Of the strangers, six seemed to him at first the more overtly curious, surprise flickering for a moment deep in his eyes as he studied them before he smiled at the revelation that they had been touched by powers far beyond the humans of the universe of their creation. Still, the achievements of their native builders had been for all their flaws impressive, even if born of a hubris and arrogance to make him sigh and shake his metaphorical head in disappointment although they were far beyond his jurisdiction. The minds within reflected well their beginning. Ruthless they were, and savage, forged in a time and tempered by the desperate necessities of a struggle beyond even his ken, wild and primal and filled with a terrible pride and an arrogance and certainty of the superiority of their kind. Yet there was kindness also and gentleness and a boundless capacity for warmth, and beneath all, a fierce and indomitable fire that blazed pure and clean and incorruptible. And his smile grew and warmed as the surety of the rightness of his compassion and the way to the future he had chosen against the stand of all save one of his companions, the rest of whom had insisted the travellers were alien and dangerous and should be destroyed, was vindicated. Then he touched the last and only truely human of the seven, and suddenly his smile was gone; for she was chaos beyond the boiling madness of the interuniversal void, a raging, roiling maelstrom in which nothing could be discerned, a screaming, shrieking rent into horror and oblivion and a plunging, hungry blackness that tore at the senses and confounded even his attempts to read the soul that lay within. And he understood at last the enormity of the Gate's unease and why this one at least should be destroyed beyond hope of recall lest she bring disaster or the Silence or some destruction of her own. Yet in the tale of pain and dreadful peril read in the memories of her companions he thought he saw the reason for her state, and he was perhaps the most compassionate of his kind. The very essence of her being was torn and splintered beyond his power to change or heal, yet with care she would still accept the power that would restore her, and in any case he would not destroy without cause. Besides, despite all his companions might claim, she was human and of the system, even if of a universe far beyond all hope of ken, and so inviolate and under his protection.

Decided, he gathered power enough to animate them and restore them to physical reality, then chuckled with sudden amusement as the necessity was taken from him.

"MINE!" The snarling roar brought his attention from the still forms to the portal once more, a metaphorical sigh escaping him as the thing of nightmare appeared in all its pitiful, impudence of power, twisted and misshapen according to its kind, huge mandibles snapping and eyes weaving savagely back and forth as its arms reached hungrily for its prey. "Hell-spawned bitch! They shall not escape me! My vengeance shall be now and you and your keeper shall scream!"

With a venomous howl, a roiling, bloated darkness spewed from its outstretched hands, a searing, poisonous corruption that surged screaming to overwhelm the unmoving forms and, as it thought, corrupt and animate them to its will.

Quicker than thought, the figure reached out, a fleeting touch turning the approaching darkness in an instant to a blazing, coruscating blast of life- giving spiritual power that struck the seven with the force of a tsunami, sweeping them in a heartbeat far, far away before it too was gone and he and the hell-thing were alone. Then, even as the creature understood that its intent had been frustrated and drew breath to roar a challenge to its unseen nemesis, the figure reached forth a hand. And Death Phantom screamed in agony and incomprehension as for a moment his link to the abyss of his kind was gone and he teetered upon the very brink of absolute oblivion.

"Go." The single word was low and terrible beyond imagining.

And in the next moment the Khr'vorll demon lord was hurtled from the gate of a realm he had better never have dared approach, his scream of rage and the frustration of his revenge dying in an instant as the hooded figure released his hold and Helcion was restored once more.

For a long moment he was still, standing half-turned as he gazed unmoving in the direction the strangers had taken, sensing already the terrible anger of the most disillusioned of his companions as in his turn and as they had agreed he reached for them with terror and nightmare and a grim determination that they should prove themselves false and so perish here and now ere they could be released to bring ruin on the world, watching with regret and compassion as the fleeting touch took them and each began to wander in the horrors his companion had wrought. Then at last and sadly he shook his head and sighed.

"So the great dissolution draws near." Again, the words were low, but now the tone was quiet and tinged with sadness and regret. "And so begins but the first of the many trials you must face. Let us hope our charity was not misplaced. For you are not yet needed save to lessen a little the suffering that is to come, and we cannot save you again should you falter. Yet still I believe my companions have misjudged, and perhaps you may yet repay us all; we shall see."

And without sign or flicker the figure was gone, a last fleeting warning speeding its way to the lord of the dream-realm before the link vanished and the hollow lay once more still and silent in its perpetual, midnight darkness.

"Check-mate."

Smiling, Helios set the white bishop in place and gazed quietly across the board at his silent opponent. Playing against a construct of oneself might have seemed rather curious to an observer, but the game was no less satisfying for that.

With an answering smile and a courtly bow, the construct dissolved, merging once more with the dream-king even as Helios banished the chessboard and settled back in his chair.

Such moments of relaxation had become all too few of late and he had been growing increasingly restive and uneasy. Darkness was gathering in the physical world, still all but inaccessible to him save for brief moments in the city of Tokyo, and he did not need the dreams of the re-awakened Moon Princess and her inner senshi or the nightmares of the few who had been attacked by Beryl's increasingly active servants to know that a time of dreadful choice was fast drawing near. Also, Neherenia was stirring once more on the realm's borders and he was far from certain as to whether he could hold her should she begin her final assault in the midst of the gathering storm. He had considered asking for what help the Windwalker might give him, but despite his powers in the physical world and the advantage his belief in them might grant him against an untrained adversary, Alisin's abilities were ill-suited to combat in the land of dreams, even discounting the fact that he had known little combat training during his physical life. In any case, he would be almost as vulnerable to a being of Neherenia's power as any ordinary dreamer and Helios did not want to think about what might happen should he be conquered and enslaved to the mirror-queen's will. Far better that he remain asleep until he was needed and unknown to her than that her attention be drawn to him by some fool's gambit on the part of the dream-king. Besides, Alisin had his own destiny, a destiny the lord of Helcion knew far better than to risk for what little hope his help might offer.

Helios sighed. In the end, as always, he was alone and little likely to find help unless by chance he might reach Serenity's daughter or one of her court before it was too late. Had he been able to reach Poseidon he might have risked warning her and taken the chance that their collective reincarnation might have dulled the former distrust between the outer and inner senshi, but queen Serenity had been exquisitely careful to ensure that nothing would show save should the senshi again be needed and as with the others he had had no hope of finding her while her senshi-self remained sleeping. Guessing that she might, like the inners, be active once more was not enough; he could spare neither the time nor power to find her. As for Hades, there was no hope there. She was difficult to reach at the best of times and with so much depending on the outcome of the inevitable confrontation with Beryl and her demon mistress, Hades would not leave the Gate.

Sighing again, Helios rose quickly to his feet, a tall goblet of steaming wine appearing in his hand as he moved swiftly to the door of the chamber. It was pointless to brood here, and in any case he needed to check the border defences once more. He could no longer risk sending a construct with the mirror-queen so attentive.

The door opened quietly at his touch and he was about to step out into the wide passage beyond when abruptly he froze. Something had touched the realm, brief and subtle but as clear to its lord as though the intruder had announced his presence by pounding at the gates. For a frozen moment, Helios wondered whether this might not be the first salvo in Neherenia's assault. Then his home seemed to tremble about him and in the next instant he cried out and reeled gasping to his knees, the goblet vanishing even as he raised suddenly shaking hands to clutch convulsively at his head. For a space as he knelt, he was dimly aware through his pain of a soul-deep tearing as though the very fabric of Helcion had been ripped savagely aside. Then it had vanished and in the next instant his home was gone and he found himself floating in nothingness, a nothingness wreathed in fire.

"Helios." The voice was the roar and rumble of the flame that surrounded him and he could do nothing save bow in deference and await what was to come. "LORD of Helcion, attend."

Then the vision came, a vision of ruin and destruction in the physical world, great and terrible as the cataclysmic horror of the fall of Silver Millennium, a ruin so absolute that it seemed at first impossible that anything might escape the coming darkness. Yet through the fleeting, dreadful glimpses that he knew were but the palest echo of the true enormity of the horror that was to come he saw the hope that had first illuded him, and he watched in rapt attention, learning all he might now so that he might do what little he could while still there was time and also so that the windwalker might be warned and save his last descendant should he not miss the chance.

The vision faltered and for a moment he thought that this was all that would be shown him. Then suddenly he stood before a forgotten pool in a deep, secret hollow of his own realm, and astounded he watched the strange unfolding of the rescue and restoration of the seven travellers until at last they were cast adrift to wander in terrible dreams and growing awareness in the farthest reaches of his realm.

Then at last the vision ended and Helios found himself in his home once more, kneeling as he had been when the vision had taken him.

For long moments he remained still and trembling while slowly the horror faded and a measure of quiet calm returned. Then at last he sighed and rose slowly to his feet, steadying himself for a little against the cool stone of the doorway arch until the last of the shaking had vanished and he stood firm once more.

The seven strangers must be found and released to the physical world while still unaware and before they awoke in Helcion in physical form or worse, were lost forever in the horror of the terrible dreams from which one at least was determined they should never escape. Already, more than one of them had begun to wander as the formless nothingness of deep sleep gave way to the throws of dreadful nightmare and ever-deepening illusion. Also, Alisin must be awakened and warned of what was to come while still there was time.

His face set, Helios stepped swiftly from the room, passing quickly through the wide corridors until at last he left his home and vanished grim and silent into the vastness of his realm.

It was a room of memory, a warm, restful retreat in a place of a long-vanished age in which he had known the quiet peace of study and meditation. Bookshelves lined its walls from floor to ceiling save for the space where stood its heavy door and a place on its farther side where was set the large fireplace in which a warm fire rumbled gently in the silence. Several low and comfortable chairs were set here and there and a small table stood by the hearth, yet the room was dominated by the heavy oaken desk standing almost in its centre upon which a small lamp burned quietly and behind which was set a large and heavy armchair in which he was settled, his bearded face relaxed in a half-smile and his eyes closed in sleep. Not for thousands of years had anything disturbed him save for the few calls of the medallion and the infrequent visits of the dream-king both to see that nothing was amiss and to talk for a little or challenge him to the occasional chess-game. No dreamer had reached him in their wandering (Helios had ensured from the beginning that his guest had understood how to see that his sanctuary remained undisturbed for as long as he remained a guest of the realm), and no rumour of the growing trouble in the physical world had yet come to trouble his quiet solitude.

It was the opening of the outer door that first disturbed him. Had his visitor been a dreamer, they would simply have continued on their way, the hilltop and its house perhaps not even touching their awareness as they passed. Even to a lucid wanderer, the retreat might have seemed at most little more than a fleeting image, a distraction to be ignored lest it pull them back into the oblivion of a true dream-state. Only the lord of Helcion, both by virtue of his authority and because he was the only real physical presence in a world of fantasy, could penetrate such defences without difficulty or alerting their creator and visit when he wished, and his own courtesy ensured that he would always give some sign so that his host would not be caught unawares by a sudden appearance. This time however there was nothing and the sleeping figure stirred, shifting uneasily for a moment as he tried in a half-dream to understand what had troubled him, before he sighed and settled once more into sleep. So it was that, when, after a time of stillness, the door to the study was pushed soundlessly aside, he did not stir.

For a long moment the figure beyond the doorway remained in shadow, while the fire murmured and the light flickered gently in the room beyond. Then at last footfalls whispered in the stillness and the wraith-like form of a girl, tall and pale, glided forwards into the room, the warm firelight casting a soft glow on a face at last stilled and peaceful seemingly in the deepest depths of sleep as she moved slowly to halt at last almost by the desk, guided perhaps by some sense far beyond conscious thought or reason or maybe by no more than the peaceful stillness of the study.

There for a long time of quiet she remained, eyes closed and unseeing, slender hands relaxed at her sides as she stood as still as though graven in pale crystal, seeming not even to breathe, until at last her eyelids fluttered and she stirred once more, perhaps only then aware that she was no longer moving, her gaze wandering aimless and purposeless about the room, seeming to see nothing until it returned to fix at last upon the sleeping figure before her and the ghost of recognition flickered deep in her eyes.

"Not dissolution. Not alone."

The words were the barest whisper in the stillness, her left hand stirring as though to reach out to the only thing she seemed able to perceive as tangible. Then the moment of awareness was gone and again she was still while time passed unheeded, until of a sudden the figure before her stirred again in his sleep, murmuring uneasily as though for a moment aware of the stranger, before his face relaxed and he settled deeper in his chair. Yet at that, her eyes seemed to focus once more and again she stirred, her body shifting almost imperceptibly this way and that as though she were unsure of how to move from her place. Then slowly she turned, her footfalls faltering as she moved silently around the desk to halt at last by the chair. There again for a long time she stood, her left hand trembling at her side before it reached forwards, moving at last to touch gently on the shoulder of the sleeping form. Instantly he started, jerking from her touch, his head turning swiftly towards her, eyes flashing angrily as he awoke fully to her presence and she returned his look with one of incomprehension.

For a long moment Alisin Windwalker studied the girl before him, his momentary anger at the intrusion melting first into confusion, then into astonished disbelief.

She was slender and very tall, pale and beautiful as a maiden of the people of Hyperborea, and clothed only in a strange, black form-fitting garment that clung tight from neck to feet and left little to the imagination. Long, lustrous dark hair fell in silken curtains to a little below her waist, and eyes of a startlingly intense blue-green were fixed with growing awareness on his face now that he was watching her. Yet even so it was clear to him that she could not understand where she was, and as he watched, a shadow of pain seemed to flicker for a moment deep in her eyes.

Alisin stirred, shifting uneasily under her increasingly disconcerting gaze, uncertain as to how best to deal with her. He was certain now that she was no phantom conjured up by his dreaming mind (he had been in Helcion long enough to recognise such counterfeits), and Helios had never told him what he should do should some stray dreamer manage somehow to enter his home; such a thing should not have been possible without his consent.

"You should not be here my lady," He tried at last, pitching his tone low and gentle yet with just a hint of command.

But she regarded him as though the words had not been spoken and at last he sighed and shook his head. Obviously she was too deeply asleep to understand anything he might say to her, indeed perhaps she perceived nothing of her surroundings save maybe at the very edge of awareness. Still, it should be simple enough to lead her from his home and to a glade where she could wander safely until she awoke. Yet was there need? Surely it could do no harm to allow her to stay until she returned to the physical world; at most it would be a few hours, and perhaps she might become aware enough to talk to for a little.

Allowing a smile to soften his sharp features, Alisin made as though to gesture to a chair by the fire, then started as she stepped suddenly closer, her gaze roving suddenly restlessly about the room as though with fever. "Lost."

Again, the word was little more than a whisper, soft and empty, and Alisin shivered, staring suddenly shaken as a spasm of pain and bewilderment passed like a shadow across her beautiful face as she turned this way and that as though seeking something only she could see. "Lost. And cold. So cold."

Then again her eyes turned to him and now they shone with an almost primal intensity and he could see the first true glimmerings of returning thought and reason, lost and confused as she was.

"Where ..." Her voice faltered and for a moment it seemed that she might slip back into the peace and emptiness of oblivion. Then she drew herself up and her gaze sharpened still more. "Where...am I? What...is...this place?"

She made as though to gesture, but her hand shook and she swayed as though at any moment the tenuous hold on reality she had gained might desert her.

"You can hear me now my lady? You can understand?"

Again, he kept his own tone gentle, suddenly afraid for her should she vanish in this state. Dream to her or no, he did not like the increasingly wild look in her eyes, as though she were holding on with everything she had, and the longer he watched her the more certain he was becoming that something was terribly, horribly wrong. Surely no dreamer should be wandering in such distress unless perhaps ill and fevered, indeed, he was within a thought of using the call Helios had taught him and that he knew would summon the dream- king as quickly as he could come, when she spoke again.

"I...i hear. I understand." Her voice was still faint as though she were reaching him from some great distance, yet it was losing the trance-like emptiness of a moment before and the wild, fevered intensity in her blue-green eyes seemed to be easing a little the longer she held the nothingness at bay. "This...this must be the realm of the Lord of Nightmares of Lina-chan's world. Or...or perhaps I am lost in the nothingness between even the realm of thought and physical reality. Or maybe this is all that remains at the uttermost end of oblivion..."

Again her words trailed into silence and once more Alisin shivered uneasily as he watched her taught face and troubled eyes.

For a long moment he was unsure as to how to answer what he did not understand. Then she stirred as though to speak again and he realised that she thought he had not heard her.

"This is not oblivion my lady," He said with a kindly smile and a tone he hoped might reassure her. "You have come merely to the land of dreams, though why in such a state I cannot guess. Probably you have strayed here in a troubled sleep, but I assure you, you have nothing to fear and you are more than welcome to remain my guest until you wake if it will ease you. Indeed" He added with a wry chuckle. "I should welcome the company. My vigil is something of a solitary one and--"

"Wait! Wait!" The plea was urgent and he faltered as she raised a trembling hand as though to ward off his words. "The land...of dreams?"

For several seconds she was silent, her face tight as though she were struggling to recall something at the very edge of memory. But at last she sighed in helplessness and frustration and shook her head.

"Do not let it trouble you." Said Alisin quietly, mistaking her bewilderment for the confusion of sleep. "This will, after all, be itself but a dream when you wake. It is unlikely that you shall remember--"

"No." The word was soft but final, somehow silencing the windwalker as though she had shouted it at the top of her voice. "You do not understand. You cannot. I...i do not dream, at least not as you would understand it. It...it is not the nature of my kind. And yet..." She continued softly as though to herself. "So like a dream, or a tale Sapphire and Steel might tell. So like. So like." But again she faltered, her words fading to silence and her eyes wild with confusion and a growing fear.

"Your kind?" Alisin inquired, bewildered now as well as uneasy. "I do not understand."

"I...i am ..." But abruptly she fell silent and suddenly a look of stark, terrible confusion filled her face. "I do not know!" The words were a sudden gasp of shock and incomprehension. Then her voice was rising in a terrible panic that was as swift and absolute as it was utterly alien to her. "I do not know who or what I am!" The cry was suddenly high and filled with terror, and Alisin felt pity clutch at his heart as he watched the leaping horror in her eyes. "It is not possible that this could happen...that I could forget such a thing!"

The words were wild and pleading and in that moment Alisin knew he could wait no longer. Whatever her trouble, it was plain to him now that it was beyond both his experience and ability to help her.

With a thought, he sent the call, the barely-perceptible tremor that he knew was itself an illusion for his benefit assuring him that it had reached the lord of the realm. Now, all he could do was wait and try to soothe his terrified guest as best he could until Helios arrived to see her safely from his domain.

"Please lady--" He began.

But suddenly she was before him, her face wild and savage and a terrible intensity in her blue-green eyes as they sought and held his own. And abruptly a quite different unease gripped him. It was tremendously unlikely that she could hurt him, nevertheless he would prefer not to have to battle a fevered dreamer in the grip of the gods alone knew what illness if it could be avoided.

Stilling his growing alarm and keeping his expression mild and reassuring as best he could, he made as though once more to try to calm her.

But she gave him no chance.

"Tell me." She cried, the panic in her tone seeming in a terrible moment to have given way to a ruthless, almost brutal cold. "Who are you? Where is this place and how have I come here?"

Her eyes were hard and terrible now with savage desperation and a primal, feral light blazed suddenly in her face that was shocking in the intensity of the change it wrought in her. Beautiful she was still, but hard now, cold and untameable as a wild warrior-maiden of the north, and Alisin tensed, shifting subtly as he prepared himself for a confrontation he hoped still would not come. Anger kindled for a moment at her perceived betrayal after his kindness, but he forced himself to remember that despite her agitation and the threat that seemed suddenly so palpable, she was confused and limited by the terrible dream that had somehow brought her to his home and could function only within the parameters her mind had set for itself.

Forcing himself to calm, he rose carefully to his feet and bowed.

"My name, my lady, is Alisin, last windwalker of the Silver Millennium, and this, for the present, is my home."

At his words, the growing fire seemed to falter, her face taking on again the tight, desperate concentration of a moment before as though she were reaching with everything she had for something upon the very verge of understanding.

"And this...this is your domain? Your home within the land of dreams?"

And now the horror rose fierce and cloying within her as she teetered at last upon the very brink of some terrible comprehension.

"It is." He answered, now more than alarmed by the panic in her face and wondering what in the name of the gods was keeping the dream-king.

For a moment more she remained unmoving, her face tight with some terrible struggle, her eyes wild as they held his own. Then suddenly she reeled back as though struck, a choked scream bitten desperately back as stark terror filled her face and she stumbled and whirled convulsively away from him.

"Alisin, windwalker of a world of fantasy! And the gate, the dying of the gate! And oblivion! So cold! So cold! Oh no! Not alone! Not like this! No!" The words were a choked whisper as though in their uttering she might somehow deny the truth of the reality around her.

For a moment longer she remained still. Then slowly she turned to face him once more and her face was terrible in its loss and agony.

"I remember." She said softly, her unconscious mastery of tone and the haunted intensity of her eyes setting a terrible horror to life in her listener. "We were in transit, the whole of the company. But Shiko delayed us too long, and a reality-storm struck at the very moment of our leaving Yohko's world. It broke the gate, and Joanna screamed. Never could I have imagined that I could hear such pain! And then, dissolution; so cold! So cold!" Her voice faltered and she shuddered, her arms clenching suddenly convulsively about her as though to ward off some deadly chill. "You cannot imagine what it was to die like that, to plunge into a blackness of mind and thought beyond the nethermost end of forever, to know that at the last there was nothing save nightmare and blackness and the emptiness of an oblivion beyond the uttermost end of damnation." For a moment she was silent, her body trembling and her face wrung with pain and horror and a shattered emptiness beyond all he could begin to understand.

Then at last she sighed, long and deep, and slowly the tension flowed from her until at last a quiet, gentling calm took its place and Alisin knew that somehow she had conquered the terror and would be allright. With a sigh of his own he resumed his place. "And yet" She continued softly after many seconds had passed between them. "here I am, a shadow lost beyond death and all hope of returning in a place in which my world cannot be, for your reality and mine cannot coexist; there are fundamental differences that would make it impossible. And what irony that I should be marooned and alone in a Helcion or Illusion, even if in one whose Helios I have never known and who cannot help me return. An author's jest perhaps, a last pull on the strings to see how the puppet may dance?" She laughed, but the sound was low and bitter, a sound far more akin to tears than humour. "Oh how perfect," She continued. And now her voice choked upon the knife-edge of breaking. "and how fine a twist in the tale. So simple, and so exquisitely cruel. Not even to know whether my companions somehow survived. Oh yes; this time fate has outdone itself."

Then at last the tears came and she began to cry, great keening sobs that shook her tall, slender form, while Alisin could do nothing but sit and watch in helpless sympathy while the tears continued to fall and she wept her loss, for the moment inconsolable. He had not understood all that she had said, yet it was plain that she had suffered greatly and lost loved-ones very dear to her. No one could have understood such pain better than he, and his hands clenched on the arms of his chair as he watched her, knowing he should give her this moment to mourn, yet unwilling simply to turn away and leave her to grieve alone.

For what seemed an eternity she remained, her head bowed, slender arms clutched desperately to her as she shivered and trembled in her grief and misery. Yet at last the sobs fell to tiny whimpers until with a last shuddering sigh she lifted her eyes once more to meet his quiet, penetrating gaze.

"Thank you." She said softly, the ghost of a smile touching her lips as she danced a flowing curtsey to him and moved at last to seat herself in a chair facing his own.

Smiling quietly in answer, he bowed his head for a moment, knowing that nothing more need be said and yet suddenly willing to speak.

"I am no stranger to such loss my lady," He said gently, an ancient yet still- raw pain flickering for a moment in his eyes. "long ago I lost my wife and my only son, and I watched helpless while all that I knew and loved was laid in ruin, destroyed by a consuming hatred I do not even pretend to understand. None know such pain better than I."

She nodded, a depth of sudden sympathy in her eyes that he thought merely empathy and an understanding born of her own tragedy until she spoke once more.

"Beryl?" She said softly, and Alisin started, staring at her amazed, too thunderstruck for a moment to answer.

"How...?" He managed at last.

But she only smiled sadly and shook her head as though at some inner confirmation. "In any archetypal senshi universe she is a vicious enemy," She continued, still in the same quiet tone. "but in yours in particular it seems she possessed a particularly twisted and sadistic flare for revenge. Your wife, then your son, and the last, terrible battle that saw the ruin of the Orders she hated and that had given such meaning to the world you loved; her vengeance on a man she had learned to hate perhaps beyond all save one. I wonder whether she did not contrive that he die before your eyes, so that you might watch helpless and so suffer still more before the end?"

For many moments Alisin could only stare in numb incomprehension, unable at first to believe the words he thought he had heard.

"How...?" He tried again at last, his voice seeming to him to come from some great distance. "How could you know? None save one who was there, who saw... Are you a priestess, an oracle perhaps? Or is this after all but a dream and you a fleeting image, a phantom to vanish when I awake?"

But the tall figure before him shook her head.

"I am no phantom." She said gently, a sudden bitter edge to her soft words. "At least, not of your making."

"Then how?" He persisted, his voice suddenly thick with emotion.

For a long moment she made no answer. Then at last she sighed and a great sadness filled her eyes as they met and held his own.

"A tale." She said at last, her voice little more than a whisper in the stillness, seeming suddenly weary far beyond her years. "A tale of a world, fair and wonderful as any I have seen, a world which in mine does not exist save as fantasy, a world in which the death of the Slaver empire saw the birth of Silver Millennium, and Ferrite captained the mighty Nemesis, and a world in which Alisin, last windwalker of the Silver Millennium watched all he held dear fall in cataclysmic ruin and yet swore to guard his descendants even should it take twelve-thousand years for the birth of the future that was promised beyond the darkness."

Her voice had remained soft and gentle and now it faltered once more, and for many seconds she remained still and silent. Then at last she sighed and her eyes left his own.

"I am sorry." She said softly. "It was both thoughtless and discourteous of me to speak of things I have no right to know and of others you could not understand. Liana..." But again her words caught and for a moment she could not continue. "Liana, my elder sister, warned us again and again that despite our knowledge we were still so very young and had still so much to learn. But of us all she was the most human, matured by loss and the pain of unimaginable betrayal, and her first true friendship in her suffering with a Moon princess you can never know, even though it was not her destiny to heal her."

Touched yet bewildered, Alisin could only shake his head once more.

"I am sorry." He said quietly in his turn. "But I do not understand."

She nodded sadly, her eyes glistening once more with unshed tears.

"Perhaps there is hope." He offered at last after a long silence in a vain attempt to comfort her. "Perhaps your companions still live."

"It may be so." She said, her voice soft and sad. "Perhaps one day I shall find some way to return to them before all is lost. Yet for the moment I must assume I am alone, a stranger in a strange world, trapped in a realm in which I can have no place."

"Perhaps not quite so trapped as you believe."

At the sudden quiet words, the stranger leapt in a lithe, fluid motion to her feet, whirling towards the still-open door even as Helios stepped across the threshold and moved swiftly to stand beside her.

"My apologies old friend." He said, turning for a moment to bow courteously to Alisin. "I came as swiftly as I could, but I was unavoidably delayed, a delay that might well have proven costly to both of us. I would explain, but time is desperately short and there is a great deal yet I must do.

"Come." He said, turning once more to the stranger. "You should never have awakened here. Certainly you should not have spoken with Alisin, and you must leave now and swiftly ere you do more harm to yourself and others by remaining longer than you should and speaking more of what should not yet be known."

"I do not understand." Alisin interceded, angered despite their long friendship by the sudden cold in Helios' tone.

"I am only beginning to understand myself." The lord of Helcion answered, turning quickly to him once more. "It is difficult, and there is very little time. Briefly, she is, for want of a better term, an aberration, a factor outside the expected flow of destiny as I understand it should be. That alone makes her dangerous. But worse, she is not of our world, but rather of a reality so far removed from ours that any speculations we might make concerning its nature would be meaningless. Just what this means and what it may entail was not made clear to me. But one thing at least is certain. There is great danger while she remains wild and unchecked within the borders of this realm. She must return to the real world and now, while there is time."

"The real world?" The stranger demanded. "But how is that possible? Unless..." And suddenly her face was lit by a surging hope. "Then I am not merely a phantom? My body exists in the physical world?"

"You are quite real, I assure you," Said Helios, a sudden kinder note to his tone. "and you shall awake unharmed and fully restored provided we delay no longer. Come, take my hand."

But she shook her head, the hope of a moment before leaping suddenly to savage fire in her blue-green eyes as they fixed with sudden terrible intensity upon those of the dream-king.

"I cannot wake here!" She cried, and her voice was again hard and cold with a sudden hungry desperation. "If indeed I am alive as you say, I must find a way to return to my reality, even should I be all that remains of the company. That at least I owe them."

But Helios shook his head in his turn, his own eyes blazing fiercely in answer. Yet his voice when he spoke was still gentle and touched now with pity and regret.

"That is not possible." He said quietly. "Of your destiny in this world, very little was revealed to me. But this much at least was clear. The way back is closed to you, at least for the present. Whatever your future, that future lies here and here alone."

But she did not falter and Helios cursed silently at his carelessness in not reaching Alisin before his intervention helped her wake too soon simply to return to the physical world while still unaware and too completely to deceive. And now the moments were speeding by while her companions teetered upon the knife-edge of an oblivion from which this time there would be no returning.

"Come!" He tried again, not needing to pretend the desperate urgency in his tone. "Already much time has been lost and we cannot delay longer here. Come; you must go now ere it is too late!"

Once more he reached his hand to her, but again she hesitated.

"There is hope?" She demanded, the terrible intensity undiminished as her eyes once again sought his own.

"There is hope while you live and should you go now." He answered, his tone gentle once more. "No more can I tell you."

For a long moment more she remained unmoving. Then at last she sighed. "Very well." She said, the fire dying and her eyes filled again with the heart- rending agony of her loss. "But if there is any power for good to hear me, this I pray, that my companions not be lost to me forever, and that some day I shall return to them once more. Very well. Let us go."

She made as though to reach for his hand. Then suddenly she drew back.

"Wait!" She cried, stepping from him to Alisin, even as the windwalker rose to stand before her. "One moment more!"

Quickly she reached to take his hands, clasping both in her own and pressing them with a fierce strength before releasing them and dancing another deep and flowing curtsey.

"I cannot thank you as I should," She said, her face alive with warmth and sincerity and her blue-green eyes shining still with unshed tears as for a last moment they caught and held his own. "and I dare not say too much for fear of the danger careless words may bring. Of two possibilities for your future can I tell you. Should yours be the first, it is unlikely that we shall meet again for years uncounted, and if the second, your road shall be long and hard and I cannot guess at its ending. Yet this promise do I give you. You recalled me from the nothingness of an oblivion beyond all you could begin to understand and showed me a warmth and courtesy I can never hope to repay, and for that you have my gratitude and my thanks, and my aid also and that of all my sisters should ever you need us and should we be able to come. For we do not forget, and your kindness has made you friend to us until the uttermost end of days. Farewell Alisin Windwalker, last of the Silver Millennium, and may all the good and fortune and happiness there may be go with you, whatever path your road may take. Farewell."

And with that, even as Alisin bade her farewell in his turn and bowed low in answer, she stepped once more to Helios' side and reached to take his hand.

For a moment the lord of Helcion remained unmoving, touched by the unexpected poignance of the moment. Then at last he stirred and smiled.

"Come." He said, his face warmed and his tone softened once more by the unlooked-for sincerity in her promise to a friend of more than twelve-thousand years. "It is time to go. Do not be bitter. And do not despair. What part you are to play against the coming terror was not made clear to me. Yet a part you shall have, and perhaps after all your meeting with Alisin was fated; who can tell? For now, I wish you good speed and fair fortune and the fulfilment of all you seek. For you are not so alone as you believe, and your hope may yet be granted. Farewell."

And with that, his hand clasped fiercely in hers, and for a brief moment a gate opened to the physical world. Yet the watcher had not yet done all that he intended, and the gate that should have opened in Juuban was twisted by a touch subtle beyond the lord of Helcion's ability to perceive.

And even as in sudden wild hope at the dream-king's words Camilla made as though to forestall him or plead that he explain, she was caught and swept within, and swiftly she vanished from the realm.

In the terrible months that were to follow, Langley would torment himself again and again with the certainty that the unreasoning terror he had felt as he made his last goodbye to his family was a precursor to what was to begin on that flight, that had he but understood the warning and stayed, he might by some chance have averted the terrible destiny he would have sold his soul in a moment to change.

The wrenching, blood-chilling scream seemed to him to sear the quiet calm of the cabin like the soul-shriek of something tormented beyond the madness of the deepest pits of hell. Instantly half the passengers seemed to be on their feet, shouts and cries and the splintering crash of things upset adding to the tumult while Langley, snapped suddenly to combat readiness from deep sleep, surged to the aisle, his hand already on the weapon concealed beneath his coat as he spun wildly in search of danger. Then a half-screamed: "Look!" from behind had him whirling to face his window, others moving instinctively to follow his example as he stared out as though seeking something only he could see. For one frozen moment there was nothing. Then suddenly it came, a darkness, profound and absolute, surging with terrible speed from the north to swallow the sun, waxing and deepening until within moments the sky had become a deep, impenetrable black, lit only by a lurid, defuse glow that cast the cabin in stark, chilling hues of blacks and deathly greys. In the sudden almost total darkness a stunned, profound stillness seemed to Langley to fill the cabin while people stared stupefied and uncomprehending into the midnight sky. Then someone, perhaps the same woman screamed and suddenly the silence turned to nightmare and horror and the madness of over two-hundred people suddenly unable to understand or accept what was happening.

For a moment Langley remained as frozen as the rest. Then a shouted "Sir!" from behind snapped him back to reality. If they did not do something quickly there would be a riot in the plane. Already many were screaming in incoherent panic, shouts of "Holy Jesus! The Goddamn sun's blown up!" and "It's a Goddamn nuclear war!" doing nothing to help the situation. In moments the panic would take hold completely and it would be too late.

"Lansing!" Langley's suddenly thunderous voice cut through the din and immediately the lieutenant was saluting and awaiting his instructions, the others already ranged behind him. "Secure the cabin. Use what force you have to short of shooting to kill. I want the rest ready for anything while each of you change into uniform; I don't want any more panic than there is. I'm going to try to find out what in God's name we've run into and get through to colonel Prichard at the White House if I can."

Without waiting, knowing he could rely on them to do as he commanded without any idiot questions, Langley shrugged quickly from the heavy coat he had pulled on that morning over his uniform, pitching it into his seat even as he moved quickly forwards, laying a hand on the weapon in its holster although he did not draw it, not yet. He had barely taken a dozen strides, careful in the near-darkness, when abruptly light flooded the cabin and he blinked and increased his pace. Behind him he could hear Lansing shouting orders and the chaos dying down as people at last began to recover at least a measure of composure now that it seemed someone in authority was taking charge.

Ignoring an attendant who was shouting at him and pushing quickly but with relative care passed another who tried to bar his way, Langley reached the front of the cabin, the door opening, then slamming quickly behind him. For a moment the two attendants stood frozen, staring after him, then nodding to the other, one moved quickly to follow.

"I don't give a damn what you've been told; we've run into the Goddamn X-files out here and I want to know what it is and I want to know now!"

With a half-snarl, Captain Hal Andersson tagged off the transmit, ignoring the radio as his hands flew over the board before him.

"Still no GPS?" He demanded, turning to the co-pilot at his side.

"Nothing." The other answered. "No satellite at all!"

"Sh*t!" He swore fervently and might have said more but at that moment the door opened behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder, ready to snarl at whomever of the cabin-crew was stupid enough to bother him now rather than doing their job, then half turned, his eyes suddenly blazing for a different reason as he stared at the tall, dark-skinned man moving quickly into the cockpit. "I don't know who the hell you are, but you've got two seconds to get the hell off... Oh sh*t!"

He had caught sight of the holster and was just about to turn and add a shouted "May-day!" to his problems when something was thrust into his hand and the uniform the stranger was wearing at last connected with the addendum to the manifest he had noted before the flight.

"Captain James Langley sir, Presidential staff. We'll be on your manifest."

With visible relief, Andersson nodded, relaxing just a little as Langley took back his ID and moved to close the door.

"Ok." He began, turning back to them. "Just what in the Lord's name is goin' on?"

"Alright, alright! Now if everyone can just can the noise for a moment I might have some chance of making myself heard!"

With relief, Lansing noted that the last of the panic seemed finally to be relenting save for the occasional sob and some crying from some of the children. From his position at the front of the cabin, the lieutenant surveyed the scene before him and felt that at last he had at least a reasonable chance of maintaining control.

"I'M army lieutenant John Lansing," He continued after a moment. "this is Sergeant Larry Gleeson, Sergeant Alan Alcott and Corporal Tom O'neal. Now before you ask, it's coincidence we're here; we're on our way to assignment in D.C.. We had no idea anything like this was gonna happen, we don't know any more than you do and we can't answer any of your questions. Perhaps we'll know more when Captain Langley gets back from talking to the flight-crew, but at least I can assure you that the Sun hasn't blown up, believe me we'd already be dead if it had, and whatever this is it's certainly not the start of a nuclear war. Now I know it's not going to be easy but I'd ask all of you to stay as calm as you can because we're not gonna get anywhere if people start to panic like you did a few minutes ago. Now I want everyone but the cabin- crew in their seats and strapped in within the next thirty seconds, because anyone I see walking around after that unless you're paying a visit I'll have physically restrained. Now I'm sorry if that seems a little harsh but until we know what's going on I can't afford to take chances. So please let's all just stay calm and cooperative and hopefully things will work out fine, ok? Now let's get to it."

There were some glares and a good deal of hostile grumbling, but most were still too shaken to offer much in the way of resistance and within half a minute or so the last had settled and Lansing was about to move to speak to one of the cabin-crew about checking to see whether anyone was worse than shaken when the door behind him opened and his captain stepped through, closing it quietly behind him. Snapping to attention, Lansing was about to speak when he caught the look on the captain's face and faltered into silence.

"We're in trouble." Langley's tone was quiet and terribly calm and the four listening men felt suddenly cold. "I managed to get through to the colonel; things are goin' crazy on the lines. Captain Andersson wanted to turn back, but the colonel ordered me to place the plane under military control. Andersson's not too happy about it, but we have to get to D.C. and JFK'S already in chaos. Whatever's happened out here, reports are coming in that it's world-wide and it's blacked out not only the Sun but all satellite communications, in fact it seems it's pretty-much a full-spectrum shield over the entire planet except that it seems to stop about two-hundred miles off- shore, which means that whatever it is, there's a good chance that someone or something's behind it." For a moment he was silent, gauging their reactions. Then in the same deadly-calm tone he continued. "There'll be a chopper waiting for us the moment we land. All conventional and nuclear forces have been placed on maximum alert. The United States of America could be at war."

For Langley, it was the waiting that would remain graven in his memory in the days to come, that and the bewildered, uncomprehending look in the eyes of many of the passengers as the minutes passed and the raw, desperate panic of those first terrible moments gave way to a numb, helpless dread that seemed to fill the faces of all but a few. The five had remained intensely alert for any sign of trouble, only too aware that anarchy lay still just below the surface and that many were holding on only because the rest had not yet broken. At any moment they knew the tenuous calm they had achieved could erupt into chaos and that should that happen, restoring order without someone being hurt would be all but impossible. Langley could only pray that they could hold them together until they landed.

It was just before twenty to ten and they were barely ten minutes out of D.C. when it nearly fell apart. He had just returned to his seat after another walk through the cabin when it came, a sudden unreasoning urge to turn to the window beside him and look out and up. Dimly he was aware that the subdued murmur of conversation had ceased and that everyone had turned to stare. Then the image filled the sky, a blue-tinged, deeper blackness seeming to wax and surge about it as the face grew ever more wild and the stark, chilling words filled his mind: "I am Calcite. I am responsible for both the global darkness and the imminent annihilation of the city known as Tokyo. I will address the United Nations at precisely 10 am Eastern Standard Time tomorrow. Enjoy the darkness. You have seen your last sunrise!"

For one terrible moment after the image had vanished, all remained frozen. Then the screams began.

"Damn it, we're not gonna make it!"

Glancing at Captain Andersson beside him, Dan Ericson could not help but feel that he might well be correct. It had been bad enough during the hour of incomprehension that had followed the coming of the terrible darkness. Now, he knew he was holding on only because to surrender to the mounting horror would mean death, not only for himself but for the desperate, panicked people for which he and the man beside him were responsible.

Turning for a brief moment, he studied him as he sat as though carven in stone, his hands steady and his face a mask of savage concentration as the minutes passed and they drew ever closer to the end of their journey. But he was pale and cold and Dan Ericson knew that like himself he might break at any moment, may well have done so already were it not for the knowledge of what would happen. The "Mayday!" followed by the stark, chilling report of only moments before had only added to the terrible intensity of the strain. A passenger-plane was down and burning on a runway at Washington National while an abortive take-off had damaged another plane and closed a second. He supposed it had been all but inevitable given the circumstances. A pilot had panicked and come in too soon and too fast, and now nearly two-hundred people were dead. `And perhaps they were the lucky ones.' He thought, and shivered.

"Military bastards!" Andersson continued, his tone low and savage. "We should have turned back to JFK."

He fell silent and Dan fought the sudden urge to add something of his own. Losing what control he had would be the beginning of the end, of that at least he was certain. He had to hold on for another few minutes, at least until they had landed. Then he could let the fear take him; then, but not yet.

Nodding to the captain, he reached for the cabin mike and fought the terror to a last, desperate calm.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." He began, his voice sounding impossibly, incongruously steady and reasonable to his own ears. "We are beginning our approach to Washington National Airport. Please fasten your seat-belts and prepare for landing."

Still and terribly calm, Langley watched with an almost numb fascination as the city spread out below them, lit now as though it were middle-night, the airport lights stark and cold in a scene that was almost other-worldly. Away to his left as they came round for their final approach, he caught with a terrible detachment the dancing shadows cast by the lurid glow of what could only be the burning of a crashed plane. Then the glow was behind them and they were diving low and fast and Langley knew with a terrible certainty that they were too far from the runway and would crash if Andersson did not do something now. Then the nose jerked upwards and for a moment they lifted before with a final dying scream it dropped once more and they struck down with bone- shattering force, bouncing once, twice, then a third time before the scream became the roar of braking thrust and Langley unlocked his intertwined, aching fingers from their death-grip while all around him people wept and laughed with hysterical relief and it was all he could do not to join them.

Even as the plane slowed, Langley unfastened his seat-belt and rose quickly to his feet, Lansing and the others joining him with the little luggage they had and by the time the plane had halted they were already by the doors and waiting for them to open.

"There!" Lansing shouted when less than a minute later they were out and hurrying away from rather than towards the terminal.

In the next instant the helicopter was dropping from above and it seemed only moments later that they were racing aboard and the machine was soaring skywards once more, turning north-eastwards across the Potomac and towards Capitol Hill.

The briefing when they arrived was to Langley's relief mercifully short and it was only a little later that they slipped unobtrusively into a meeting of the President and his security advisers; and froze in stunned disbelief.

"What the hell!" Was all Langley could manage, staring open-mouthed at the impossible scene before him.

Seated with the President and the generals were two teenage girls clothed in what he recognised immediately to be Japanese fuku, a small black cat settled on the table before them. That alone would have been inconceivable enough, but it was the fact that it was the cat who was currently holding the floor that had them gaping as though the world had gone mad.

For a long moment Langley continued to stare in stupefied incomprehension. Then at last he turned to fix a frigid, blazing stare upon the man at his side.

"Colonel Prichard sir." He said, his tone very quiet and terribly polite. "You have exactly five seconds to explain just what the hell sick joke you think this is before I turn round, walk straight out'a this room and go back to New York City and my family."