Dream's End

[Kolava]

Feel free to ask a question if you feel I've skipped an important detail or you don't understand something.

Pronounciations:
Kolava: coal-ah-VAH (adapted to coal-AH-vah for English speakers)
Kaori: kay-OR-ee
Belave: bell-LAVE
Mirabile: mer-RAH-bill-lay
Ghetti: GET-tee
Elysium: el-LIDG-ee-um
Salor: sal-LOR
Declano: day-CLAH-no
Cecilmir: seh-SILL-mer

[Kolava]

	Ghetti squinted out at the churning fog as he cleaned his glasses on his shirt. It 
was cool and tranquil, a playful oceans of colors with no sign of the previous turmoil, and 
as he put his glasses back on he found it hard to convince himself that he hadn't just 
dreamed the whole thing, that he couldn't just wake up to find everything back to normal. 
He crouched back against the low wall. All he had to do was lay low. The young Paragon 
checked over his work for the hundredth time, eyes darting from one entry to the next, 
then pulled his bag out from under him.
	The clouds above were breaking up as the last of the storm's power bled away. 
Sunlight poured down onto the dripping foliage and filtered through the windows of the 
temple, where a few prismatic wisps of Miasma still lingered in the air. A warm breeze 
tugged at Ghetti's papers as he stowed them. Though there was a white noise of wind-
tossed branches all around him, he still felt as though he were standing in the midst of a 
great silence. He felt waves of vertigo as the final echoes of the psychic battle, despite the 
passage of several minutes, resounded as clearly as the freshest of thoughts.
	Too clearly. The scientist undid the clasp on his bag again and fished out a 
cigarette. His brow knotted, and stayed that way until he had dragged half of the stick 
into ash and exhaled a long stream of smoke over the wall.
	"This is insane." he said. Though the phrase was his loyal motto, it had long ago 
lost all meaning through overuse. "Insane."
	He turned again to peek over the wall, the cigarette hanging from his mouth.
	~Duncan. Kaori.~ he called again, ~'Lava, 'Lave, Anyone?~ he slumped back, 
adjusting with compulsive patience the delicate metallic mechanisms which gave him his 
telepathic voice and separated him from those unmoving figures at the temple's entrance. 
~Declano?~ he jokingly offered, but there was no response. Telepathic silence. Maybe 
the battle had drawn the others somewhere else? He had been left behind...
	No, there was movement. Up on the temple's roof, a splotch in his peripheral 
vision more colorful than stone but not Miasma. The movement approached the edge, and 
Ghetti swung his binoculars up from his side. Belave. The six limbs left little room for 
doubt. He still had a sinking feeling he would still be walking home, but at least he'd have 
company.
	In it's most stable form, Belave's body resembled a seamless piece of blue clay 
shaped into an anatomical absurdity. A torso and two lower legs vaguely suggested a 
humanoid form, but two additional lower limbs, each extending back from her waist into 
a powerful, grasshopper-like crouch, threw that suggestion out the window. Her head was 
a nest of tendrils, two of them much larger than the others, all of them swept back as if 
suggesting coarse hair. Her flesh, except for eyes, mouth, and chitinous claw tips, was 
uniform blue. Most strikingly of all, she lacked a skeleton in any traditional sense, and 
moved with a sinuous grace that transcended the limitations of joints.
	"Ha-ha, what've we here? I had a feeling it was gonna be you." the being 
paused at the edge of the roof, looking to where Ghetti leaned. She coiled four of her 
limbs and released, sailing across the gap to land, hard, on the road's glistening surface. 
"I've got a fan, then?" Four claws clicked against the flagstones as the other two folded 
across her bloodied chest.
	"I get sick just smelling you," Ghetti joked. He rose, keeping his muddy bag close 
with one hand while the other took his cigarette. "Why would I want to stalk you?"
	"I don't know, maybe you were worried about me?" Belave cooed, moving 
closer and drawing a tendril across his cheek
	"Stop!" said Ghetti, pulling his bag close.
	"What's up? You're even twitchier than usual, kid." said the being as she reached 
around his side to find out. Ghetti turned away, but met laughter and another arm 
reaching around that side as well. "You hiding something?"
	"Seriously, let go!" said Ghetti. He tried to slip from his coat, but it was fastened. 
To his surprise, Belave complied.
	The scientist whirled around, his breath still heavy, to look her in the eye. She 
wasn't looking at him. He followed her gaze to the side, through the front doors of the 
temple which had been closed seconds ago. The feeling of vertigo doubled. In the eddies 
of swirling Miasma hung a shadowy silhouette, which, as it moved forwards into the 
sunlight, filled the Paragons' eyes with awe.
	"You can wrestle later, Belave." Kolava said, looking distractedly to the being. 
"We still need someone on the roof watching for the signal."
	"Yeah, sure." said Belave, and with a crouching jump she was gone. Only the 
claw marks in the mud showed that she had ever been. Ghetti rubbed his head.
	"And Ghetti, I thought we had agreed that you wouldn't follow us anymore."
	"I'm sorry, K'lava." he said quickly, his eyes downcast to the bag he had dropped. 
"It won't happen again."
	"I hope it doesn't. We're dealing with very dangerous minds, here, Ghetti. This is 
not a safe place for you." said the creature, flicking across the yard to float next to 
Ghetti's bag. He picked it up and handed it to the human. "This 'research' of yours is not 
worth the danger of being wounded or killed--or worse."
	"Right. Sorry. Just, instead of hearing about it afterwards, I wanted to actually be 
there, you know? I wanted to know what it's like when they call the Tempest."
	The creature alighted on the wall, a warm wind flowing through his fur. Though, 
from a traditional military perspective, Ghetti was insubordinate, the Paragons weren't a 
traditional military. Besides, Kolava looked less upset than tired. "Well, at least you had 
some protection... but you could have just asked me." His ears tucked back and he looked 
up into the parting clouds.
	After a pause, he grinned. "Was it what you expected?"
	Ghetti knew a rhetorical question when he heard one. He slung his muddy bag 
over his shoulder and turned back, looking at the spots of blood on the creature's fur and 
recalling the terrible energies which he had felt released. Then he heard a groan. One of 
the bodies near the entrance was still breathing. "Kolava!"
	The creature had heard it too. No sooner had the man opened his eyes than that 
brown rush of fur was next to him, leaning close and staring. The man was physically 
unhurt, but his mind had been all but destroyed. His voice was a feeble whimper, and his 
head was slicked with mud from where had fallen. Ghetti stayed back, wary of some sort 
of trap.
	"Cold..." the robed man said, looking up at the temple's wall.
	"What was Cecilmir thinking?" said Kolava sadly, shaking his head "What did 
your master hope to gain? Why would he willingly Call the Tempest?" The 
man shuddered, his gaze wandering until it reached the creature's. He hesitated, then 
gasped, recognizing the eyesof the Shining One, which had been in his head. With great, 
shivering effort, he spoke.
	"Because the Tempest is coming. It's time has arrived—" he wheezed, sticky 
numbness filling his lungs, "—and it will not be denied." That green stare was 
becoming blurry in his vision.
	"But you cannot defy the Aeons, human. The Creator’s tools are not yours to play 
with." said Kolava, closing his eyes and reaching out to lay a gloved forepaw on the 
human's cooling cheek. "I am very sorry that this had to happen, but it is out of my 
hands."
	The shivering stopped. To the man's frayed senses, it was as though a great 
golden warmth had wrapped around him, melting his icy pain; his body seemed to float 
beneath him in the mud, still letting out its final breath. To Ghetti's horror, the man's eyes 
froze and his face went slack.
	"Hold on," said Ghetti franticly, fumbling in his bag, "keep him talking. I still 
have some serum, it might keep his heart beating until--"
	"--until what?" said the creature shortly. He didn’t turn his head. "The shell has 
emptied Ghetti. He is gone." Kolava closed the man's eyes, then floated 
and turned his attention to the ground. Save for his ever-shifting tail, he was still.
	"Where?" said Ghetti after a frustrated pause, his eyes and arms still frozen in his 
bag.
	"That's for the Aeons to know, not us. Besides, I think you've already learned 
enough today, human." the young scientist looked up to see Kolava was staring into his 
open bag, where the top sheet of his notes lay exposed. He quickly gathered it up and 
pulled it closed, banishing the labeled diagrams back to shadow. His tongue searched for 
something, anything to change the conversation.
	"Yeah, uh, well..." he trailed off. The Kolava's eyes filled with worry.
	"Ghetti, Please, not this." The creature brought a glove to his temple, his 
stamina down to the last grain. "Tell me that the Tempest isn't what you've been 
'researching'?"
	"No," Ghetti blurted, "the Call itself... My formulas line up with 
Cecilmir's results perfectly, and with the rest of my data..." he paused, seeing the shock in 
the creature's eyes. "...I think I'm onto something big..." he trailed off.
	"Ghetti, I beg you. What happened today cannot be changed, but it should never 
be repeated. Burn all of those papers, and never think of Cecilmir or Calling again. Ever." 
Kolava sighed with anxious fatigue. He started to say something else, but Belave had 
swung over the lip of the roof, her eyes panning across the courtyard and eventually 
stopping on Kolava.
	"I...think I see the signal."
	Forgeting about Ghetti, Kolava darted up through the air, stopping only when the 
forest canopy was rustling a dozen feet beneath his paws. 
	"Yeah." said Kolava to Belave, who had followed through the branches. On the 
horizon, the round peaks of the Baquat mountains stood in the haze, each crowned with a 
shaft of intensely hued flame. "Yeah, that's it." The Aeons wanted to talk.

[Kolava]

		"Resis hrasavett aklon seclanole"
		"And His eyes were upon them"
	Kolava paused in flight, hovering above the granite boulder which bore 
this inscription. For generations it, and countless others like it, had stood 
along the Baquat paths, guiding the pilgrims who braved the icy slopes. In theory, the 
series of inscriptions formed a continuous verse when read in sequence by a 
climber. At the end of every such "verse", a small shrine offered shelter for 
climbers to rest and pray. They were uninhabited and unstocked, however, as 
the pilgrims were expected to make the journey without assistance-- hence the 
other common path marker: stiff corpses, frozen in an eternal crawl or huddled 
fetal position.
	The biting arctic gale shifted directions, obscuring the boulder in a 
whirlwind of white powder. Kolava shook his goggled head of plural thoughts, 
focusing himself on immediate matters. Far above, at the summit, the Obelisk 
stretched towards the sky, visible from a great distance as a shaft of unearthly 
flame. The manifestation of the Obelisk was not something any Orphian took 
lightly, for it meant that the Aeons had approached the physical world. This 
only happened for two reasons. The crowning of a new Sovereign, and great 
upheaval in the order of Creation.
	With a silent burst of acceleration, the brown blur darted towards the 
summit.
 
	Finally, Kolava came to rest. Behind the animal, separated by a dizzying 
amount of empty air, the grey Baquat foothills and Catervanian plain rolled out 
to the horizon. To either side, great arches of living obsidian formed the crown to 
edge of the world. There was no snow or haze at this altitude, but a centuries 
old wind kept the thin, bitterly cold air in motion. Crunching frost beneath his 
paws, he rose and completed the final leg of the journey on foot, reverent of the 
countless pilgrims for whom gravity had been more than a suggestion.
	Though there were many things in front of him, his eyes could not pull 
down from the Obelisk. If Miasma was psychic energy intersecting Elemental Air, 
then the Obelisk was its intersection with Elemental Fire and Earth. Though it 
had never actually been measured, its base was purported to "rest upon the 
everburning core of the planet", and its point "grazed the passing spheres", and 
with no reference objects beyond the lip of the caldera, the creature could only 
guess at its true magnitude. What the primordial monument was made of, where 
it came from, and why it was referred to in the singular when several peaks held 
one were questions Orphians never openly addressed outside of jokes. This was 
no time for jokes.
	Kolava approached the lip of the caldera, watching distorted mirror images 
of himself slide across the crystal gate’s surfaces. He could feel something at 
the edge of his thoughts, as if the waves of his mind were washing onto a distant, 
unseen beach. Perhaps a "normal" human, if placed in a situation where their 
understanding of things was so compromised, would have retreated to the 
relative comfort of disbelief, but this animal knew better than to let his guard 
down. Something within him pushed onwards.
	As a literal pair of gates, the crystal structure was very poorly designed. 
They didn't open, and one could bypass them by simply walking around them. 
What they were, and what they had been for inscrutable ages, was a nexus, one 
of the many which formed the backbone of the Celestial Bureaucracy. Each was a 
psychic conduit, created in ages past and anchored to a physical structure, 
often a door. The nexus in the Terpleskan Hall was thick mahogany with iron bands; in 
Pulchron Vale, an archway rimmed with embossed bronze plates. It was even 
said that there was a simple wooden door somewhere in the oldest building of 
the Elysium Academy which served as a nexus--though it was, as the rumor 
teller went on to assure, locked from the inside and unusable. Some, such as the 
Iron Gates in the Lucemian Concourse, were used regularly. But here, under the 
glow of the Obelisk, Kolava stood alone. The crystal gates were the oldest and 
highest of the gates, not meant for normal traffic.
	~Open.~ he said through the subtle medium, his eyes looking from one 
side of the gate to the other as if he expected the mineral to respond.
	It responded. ~Kolava. This is hallowed ground. Those who serve the 
Prince of Lies are not welcome here.~ On the mental planes, the crystalline 
spines came into sharper focus, and Eidolons lurking in the nearby nightmare 
realms fixed their eyes on the furry newcomer.
	~I've come to hold audience with the Aeons, as they requested.~
	The Gate Spirit was amused, but showed no signs of budging. ~Have you 
brought an offering?~ The Eidolons moved in closer, some taking on visible 
forms.
	~Do I look like a pilgrim to you?~ said Kolava briskly. ~Now open before I 
get angry.~ He understood that the avian around him were only in his head, but 
was a seasoned enough psion not to be comforted by this. It was clear from the 
way they perched on the obsidian, with their powerful talons, sharp beaks, and 
intense stares, that they were predators; all that stood between them and 
tearing him apart was a word from the Gate Spirit. The Mongrel had suddenly felt very 
small, and was beginning to wonder if she should have brought some Paragons 
for backup when a massive blood-eyed raven, whose wingspan blotted out the 
sun and scream tore at his sensitive ears, suddenly dove off its perch and 
towards him.
	He twitched physically, and for a brief moment the little animal could 
feel the cold of the wind against his neck as his bandanna blazed with clear silver 
light. An instant later, none of that mattered. With a single sweeping motion, 
Mirabile's voluminous tail had wrapped between Kolava and the Eidolons, sealing 
him in golden warmth. The raven flapped wildly to pull back from the dive, 
cawing in panic as her pearly fangs came into sight. The other avian also cried out, 
retreating back to their nightmare realms. The Shining One, in Chidihigros form, 
lay her gentle magenta eyes on her shivering friend and gave him a tired smile. 
She, also, was nothing more than a figment in his head, but again he understood 
that this didn't matter. He seemed to calm. Mirabile looked to the gate.
	~Your Grace! I'm sorry, I...~ said the gate, recognizing the Shining One 
and opening the conduit with great haste, ~I didn't realize you were out still 
out here. Shouldn't you be somewhere safe? The Silence is growing, and the 
weather lately has been unreal.~
	~Yes, weather.~ said Mirabile knowingly ~But I go where my duties 
take me.~
	~Right, right. Well, if you ever get tired of sharing a ragged little body 
with a lowlife like him, we could always help you get a body of you own, you know.~
	Kolava froze at this thought, but Mirabile only smiled politely. ~Yes, 
thank you, I'll keep that in mind. Please hurry.~
	A silence followed. All Kolava knew for certain was Mirabile, so he 
avoiding straying an unnecessary foot away from her as she moved towards the 
gate. He could feel the fog which cloaked the edge of his perception lifting, 
and was made potently aware that simple avian Eidolons would be the least of his 
worries on that distant shore.
	~It is done.~ said the Gate Spirit, quickly adding: ~But, your Grace, he 
must stay here.~ and indicating Kolava.
	~Where she goes, I follow.~ said Kolava, steadfast. He drew closer to his 
birthmate as if protective, though her Chidihigros form was several times his 
size, and it wasn't very convincing.
	~It's not my call to make, Mongrel. Rules are rules.~ said the Gate Spirit, 
~Besides, the rule is there for a reason. No mortal could last more than a few 
seconds there. You know that.~
	~Don't worry, Kolava.~ said Mirabile, her weary magenta eyes watching 
her lack of reflection in the crystal. Her voice was soft but sure, and 
reflected without exertion the genuine compassion she felt towards others. 
~Cecilmir was the last. Everything will be fine now, you'll see. No Tempest, no War.
Just peace.~
	"Really?" said Kolava out loud, his eyes widening "We're done?"
	Mirabile nodded slowly, herself in disbelief. ~We're done.~
	Kolava nearly melted. The world was at last done with him.  After all the 
injuries, all the years spent chasing clues, evading captors, fighting others 
and himself, his original dream had nearly faded. The dream which had pulled him 
ever onward since he was a dumpster feeding stray, since before he could even 
speak or reason. He had found Mirabile, she had finished her duty, and they 
were finally free.
	~Now be still, Kolava. I won't be long.~ she gave him a reassuring nudge, 
imparting him with a bit of her energy. It wouldn't help with the loneliness of 
her absence, but it was be enough to keep frostbite and avian away. With a smile 
and a burst of golden radiance, she was gone. Kolava narrowed his eyes dreamily.
	It might have been the distant outline wings against the sky, or a moan of 
the wind against the rocks that did it, but something awoke in terror within 
Kolava; something was wrong. His eyes fell open, and all at once he knew he had made 
a mistake. He had, against all of his sentient ideals, grasped the one thing he 
truly wanted, the one thing no Orphian was allowed to have. He finally felt safe. 
For a few seconds, he had let his guard down.
	Maybe it was a phantasm. Maybe he couldn't actually hear the gears of 
fate roaring above his head. Things of great mass slipping through shadow, 
voices springing from his blood with every breath. Not safe. Danger. Run. 
Maybe none of it was real. He accidentally brushed the nexus in the subtle 
medium, and suddenly realized that the Gate Spirit was laughing. It knew something. With 
a clenched jaw and a sinking heart, Kolava knew it too. This was not the 
end.

[Kolava]

	Mirabile felt her heart soar, and her dreamform leapt likewise. All around her, the Upper 
Miasma swirled and shimmered in response to her presence–and for once, she stopped to notice it. 
Her destination never left her weary mind, but each time to the borders between dreamscapes 
thinned and sent the terrain into tumult, she couldn’t help but stop and watch with childish awe. 
Dense forests erupted from burning sands, windswept tundra snowdrifts concealed tropical 
marshes, and bustling marketplaces conducted their business oblivious to the schools of fish 
overhead. She hadn’t really noticed until Kolava pointed it out, but it was really quite beautiful.
       When she happened to catch a dreamer’s bewildered glance, she would stop and smile at 
them. Usually, a sudden, incredible sight like this would be too much for the dreamer, who would 
disappear wide-eyed as their dream bubble burst, leaving them to consider her eyes as they fell 
back asleep. But sometimes they would not disappear but, rather, stay and smile back. Mirabile 
liked it when this happened.
       She pressed onwards, and the dreamers became sparser. Few human dreams reached 
this high. Ahead, the Hroskejon, or “road of light” snaked from one horizon to the other. While 
the path’s layout and composition constantly shifted to match the terrain, it’s destination never 
changed. Follow the Hroskejon long enough in any direction, and one eventually reached 
Jutukalatomafon’s outer fane.
       But Mirabile was not going to Jutuk. She turned upward now and rose again, leaving the 
familiar churn of dreamscapes behind. She darted higher, leaving a trail of exited Miasma like a 
long, colorful meteorite—though one going in the wrong direction. Higher, past the clouds and sky 
of the Dream until at last, just below the celestial dome, she stopped at her destination.
       The celestial dais very nearly defies mortal description. The only glimpses of it afforded 
humans are accounts from near-death experiences, or the deepest, most intense of fever 
dreams—both widely disregarded as delusion by even the spiritually inclined of Orphian scholars. 
Though it exists in the Dream, it is clearly not the dream of any human, or even of a spirit. If the dais 
is indeed a dream, its dreamer is older than Orpheus itself.
	As her ebony paws settled onto the firmness at the lip of the celestial dais, her vision was 
suddenly filled by another. The kitsune stood before her wearing an immense, layered raiment of 
matte black, more metal plate than cloth. Nine tails of the purest white billowed like sunflares from 
the dark eclipse of his body and occasionally a similar hand would appear from the darkness of a 
sleeve, but few who stood before Aeluxamender looked anywhere but his eyes.
	"Oh, Untouched," said Mirabile. Her voice escaped more loudly than she intended it to, and 
she paused to calm herself. "I’m here." She bowed as properly as her aching limbs allowed, looking 
past him to the rest of the Assembly.
	A dark, elderly man in simple dress also stood at the lip, a pseudo-Hsarnate mark gleaming 
on his forehead. His impatient movements and plural personal pronoun revealed the hive mind 
behind his gaze, and his eyes seemed to see more than what was.
	The Third Aeon had never moved from the spot where it had been planted into the dais 
eons ago, nor had it ever spoken.
	The pseudo spoke first. “We expected you in Volctt last week. When you failed to arrive, we 
were...concerned.”<br>	“I’m sorry,” said Mirabile sheepishly, “I came here as soon as I was able.”<br>	“This is a somber hour, a time for reflection and prayer." said Aeluxamender with a voice 
that could stop an avalanche. “To surrender our heart to temporal levities is to squander what time 
we are allowed.”<br>        “What could possibly distract her Shining Grace?” asked the pseudo. “Something more 
important than the fate of the world? You do realize that the Tempest was just called, don’t 
you?”<br>       “Yes,” said Mirabile, “I was with Cecilmir when it happened.”<br>       Aeluxamender's brow seemed to labor under the gravity of his thoughts as he drew in a 
great breath, and Mirabile froze.
       “You were…where?”<br>       “Bys was our friend...I couldn’t stand by and watch him destroy himself...I had to know 
why.”<br>	The kitsune stood up taller than usual. "Cecilmir's life,” he said, visibly restraining himself  
“wasn't anyone’s to save. It ended the moment he turned away from the light and fled down the path 
of darkness. You should not have put yourself in danger to speak to a ghost.”<br>	“Had you arrived in Volctt last week,” said the pseudo, “we could have already made 
progress on the Gate.”<br>	“The Gate?!” erupted Mirabile, alarm jolting her from her weariness. She looked back and 
forth between the two “But that would mean…No! The Tempest Callers were the last—we’re done! 
You said that would bring Peace!”<br>	“For a year,” said the Pseudo, “two maybe. Yes, the Callers have fallen, but until we have 
recovered every last miasm of charismata, there will always be other subversives.”<br>	The sea of molten darkness on the kitsune’s body shifted as he turned his shoulders, 
looking out across the Upper Miasma. “Scared children, clinging to their stolen toys and threatening 
to tantrum at the first hint of Authority’s return.”<br>	“But the Gate is a last resort…” said Mirabile. Her magenta eyes searched for compassion. 
“Using that on this world…there would be no going back. Millions would die!” 
	“That which never truly lived cannot die.” said the pseudo simply.
	“This sacrifice was only made neccesary by their actions. They were shown the path to 
salvation. They must live with the consequences of their choice.”<br>	“But Kolava—“ 
	“The Mongrel is the servant, not you.” reminded Aeluxamender.
	“Kolava was there too?” said the Pseudo, uncomfortable. “That would mean the 
Subversives may still have access to forbidden charismata. Cecilmir could have leaked sensitive 
information.”<br>	“Yes.” agreed Aeluxamender, one of his fox ears twitching as he opened a telepathic 
channel. “We’ll have him dealt with.”<br>	“You mean...eliminate Kolava? No!”<br>	“His usefulness was limited and his loyalty divided.” said Aeluxamender reassuringly. “We 
will find you a new host, a better host, one that my brother has not yet tainted.”<br>	“But Kolava is harmless, I know him to the core! He doesn’t understand about subversion. 
He would never do anything bad!”<br> 	“We Faithful are the sole keepers of Lux Aeterna. The Divine Gifts are—“
	"—our responsibility." finished Mirabile, her eyes closed and voice shrunken in reverence. 
	"I understand that the Faithful have been scattered and that morale is low. I understand 
that every day, more hallowed ground is Silenced.” The kitsune moved past Mirabile to the edge of 
the dais, projecting his falcon-like stare on the pinpoint of light that was the crystal gate. "But we still 
have our faith. With so much depletion, it is important that our Devotion during these critical hours 
be absolute.
	“I know the pain you are in. I have felt it. Bys and I were inseparable, and my brother used 
to be the brightest kitsune of all. But the time came to act, and I knew where sentimentality ended 
and duty began."
	Mirabile opened her eyes.
	"—as I pray you do now."
	"Yes." whispered Mirabile.
	"The faithful have nothing to fear from Judgment.” Aeluxamender's gaze softened, the 
telepathic channel closing. The proselytizer called Miasma into his right palm and produced his 
long, chrome staff, the Panoptikon. “If you truly believe that he can be saved, I will not deny you a 
chance to try. Our attention can be spent much more productively elsewhere.”<br>	“Thank you, Untouched. Thank you.”<br> 
 
	~Ghetti.~
	“Kolava?” he flinched awake, looking around the empty room.
	~It is time to wake up. It is time to work.~
	“Wh...” Ghetti pulled himself from the chair and brushed ash from his shirt. “What’s going 
on?” His memory was fuzzy, but he remembered Duncan giving him a ride to the room Kaori had 
rented for him. Judging by the pinkness of the sky, he realized that he must have fallen asleep.
	Wait--The creature had said ‘work’. Ghetti launched himself to his desk, closing and locking 
the drawer as if it made a difference. He was supposed to have burned it.
	“I, I just fell asleep, I planned to burn it, honestly!” The desk, like every other flat surface in 
the room, was piled with things, and his sudden movement caused small landslides. He bent to pick 
up a picture frame of Kaori—his other obsession—and suddenly wondered if Kolava could see 
through his eyes.
	~You recorded them. Every Call. Every charism. You dissected them.~
	“No, no, it’s not like that,” said Ghetti, his thoughts racing, “just a few experiments, standard 
stuff, it didn’t mean anything. I’m burning it right now.” He fumbled for matches.
	~A hundred wizards could not do it.~ said Kolava. Ghetti noticed something missing from 
the voice, something large and warm. At this realization, he let his hand with the matches lower. 
~But you did it.~
	“The Aeon Power. It’s...completely theoretical.” He reached into one of the piles and pulled 
a folder into the light. “But I know it’s real. It’s the only thing that could unify all of the formulas. Each 
charism is part of the wheel, and this is the spokes. There’s no reason it couldn’t be controlled as 
well, and maybe even used to find the axle...”<br>	~Ghetti?~ The single word was several questions, few of which didn’t make the young 
scientist squirm.
	“I made a prototype, but it’s useless. There isn’t enough charged Miasma in the world to 
power something like this.”<br>	~You forget who I am.~ Ghetti could suddenly feel the energy as though he had dunked his 
head in it. ~Get the prototype and meet everyone at the usual place.~
	~Does Declano approve of this?~
	~I don’t care.~
	Parcel in hand, Ghetti rushed down the stairs and out into the orange street.