Can you believe in something you don’t see and does that belief or disbelief make it real?

Lark believed his friends and family were still alive somewhere. Out there. But it was a wish, a hope with a dash of unrealistic rationalization. Considering he was in a dream.

People are allowed to share the same dreams.

At least Sky thought so.

Sky shared this theory on the day of the Runesteam play-date. We were not only made of things like DNA and all that physical flesh but a soul; something we could not see.

Something Lark couldn’t wrap his head around. But this subject greatly intrigued the fanatic known as Mishka, who rested her head on Sky’s lap, and whenever she felt annoyed by Lark’s interruptions her socked foot would toe his face. The three were on Sky’s couch talking about stupid things. Teenage things.

The future, one of many teenage topics, never felt like the present even with the flying cars and other alien technology. It was a shapeless introspection, imaginative anticipation, a dream. When was it did they share their aspirations, again?

Like observing a memory from the outside of a snowglobe, all walled-out and fragile, Lark’s mind hazed.

Mishka’s foot hit his cheekbone the second time when he said Sky’s dreams of piloting to a new planet in this lifetime was almost nil seeing as current spacecrafts hadn’t even reached further than Uranus.

Then Sky asked him what he wanted to do.

Reiterating the canceled bat field trip with Professor Zayne’s class, Lark said he wanted to be a field scientist like Mr. Zayne. He did inherit some adventurous blood from his parents. But Runetech was his priority, Lark answered.

Mishka? If she somehow mutated herself into a cat-human, Lark wouldn’t be surprised. But she surprisingly said, she didn’t know. Although the future was limitless, she felt like she didn’t have many options like them. Not willing to talk about her own future, she expressed support for their dreams.

“If you ever find Planet X, you have to promise to take us too,” Mishka told Sky. She played with his hands, puppeteering them over an invisible steering wheel.

“Okay…” Sky looked at Mishka, then to Lark and said, “If I could participate in your dreams too, I’d be very happy.”

Lark wanted to push his hand through the wall to hold them. Feel their realness for a moment longer. The instant his finger touched wonderland, everything splintered, and his surroundings changed back to his latest memory.

Wangshi who he always relied on since a kid, disappeared with his hopes for a turning point. Mishka, the girl he thought he somewhat knew, sacrificed herself along with whatever secrets of the other world she grew up in. Sky, his best friend for a very long, long time, changed into someone he didn’t recognize.

And then, himself.

He bashed a person’s head apart.

He used a gun to shoot his professors.

And then he asked a slime for help.

A red hood, a snotty nosed man, the atrocious accent. It was a blur.

Shock.

Snow. Slimes.

Shock.

Sky. Snot.

Shock.

Sapling.

Lark’s grey eyes peeked open to an almost blinding fluorescent light until the room came into focus. No windows, a table next to his bed full of basic toiletries, and the air smelled like Mishka’s sanitizer spray. Gorilla-like shoulders stuffed in a black suit blocked the opened door. The gorilla-man faced the hallway, so he hadn’t noticed Lark’s awakening.

Wiggling his fingers and toes, Lark felt relief; he could move. A finger pulse oximeter monitored his oxygen levels and heart rate, while something cold clamped down his feet underneath the blanket. He raised his right arm over the blanket, realizing they undressed him down to his boxers and a short-sleeved, over-sized hospital gown. On his left arm, his Trinity watch was turned off, which wasn’t a big deal, but the spatial ring was gone. A slight jolt showed on his heart monitor. It hadn’t alerted the guard nor staff, yet.

He closed his eyes and controlled his breathing; slow in and out breaths, which were shallow enough to not clue in the guard something was amiss.

The room looked small and crowded with hospital equipment, therefore he must be in some type of medical facility on Earth. He hoped all the familiar hospital equipment meant he was still on his home planet.

Squinting his eyes, he took a second look around the warm room. His feet weren’t the only things hidden under the layer of white blankets. It appeared there was a silver restraint tugging around his ankle.

There was a red button on the bar next to his bed, with a bold ‘help’ indicator above it. He ignored it and pressed the blue button at the top of his bed.

A rough shuffling of feet atop smooth, flooring reached his ears. The back of the gorilla-man twitched, as he glanced at Lark’s obvious smirk. In five seconds, a shaky, female nurse pulled into the room with the crash cart. Two other nurses behind her, a male and a female, raced into the room, looking wildly at very much alive, and still breathing Lark. Then the person who Lark wanted to see the most, someone had more authority than a doctor, stepped into the room. Unlike the others, the agency’s director was less frazzled compared to the staff, with sharp blue eyes, and gray-streaked on golden hair that could compete with Instructor’s Fuego’s fabulosity.

“Hi, which hospital is this? And do you mind removing this.” Lark made a show of his imprisoned leg, rattling it against the bar. “You’re breaking more than a few codes of ethics.”

The director had an impassive face. Looking down at the youth before him, his hands knotted together behind his back.

“My Mishka always said you were impressive.”

“She was the impressive one.” Lark put down his leg and leaned forward with a serious, yet distant look. “So what do you know?”

“That’s what I want to know too.” The man made no further statements and beckoned over the gorilla-man to unlock Lark’s restraints. The staff left the room, seeing as it wasn’t an actual emergency.

The medical facility Lark was in was none other than the expensive research and medical center, Friledaux Hospital. Famous for its billion dollars worth of medical equipment and leading medical experts in various fields, it boasted very high-rates of patient satisfaction and recovery rates. It also helped people to trust the government more, when Friledaux Hospital was a government-funded branch that not only took in government-related clients, but also regular members of the public into its domain.

Before today, Lark only heard rumors of the architectural beauty of Friledaux hospital. Everything from the interior to the minuscule details in the door frames invited Lark to its smooth, fluid structure.

Back in his washed clothes and goop-less sneakers, Lark followed his guides to the director’s office. As the director, gorilla-man, and he walked, Lark couldn’t help but look out the large, jutted square windows. Dark clouds paraded the sky, covering the half-moon’s visibility. Lark inwardly winced. How long did he sleep for?

His gaze drifted down over the dim city lights. They were on the outskirts of the state capital. While the city didn’t appear to be in ruins, a mournful spell was cast over them all. Over a hundred thousand citizens disappeared within an hour across the globe. It wasn’t a number that could put a dent into the world’s growing population, but it was a significant number nonetheless and the targeted areas were all random. Cities, small towns, resorts, islands, villages, anywhere that a push-pin could’ve left a tiny hole on a map. It left the impression on everyone’s mind that nowhere was safe.

Mishka was the agency’s director’s daughter. There was a photo of her on his desk, a workspace clear of clutter and cold like the temperature in the office; it sat right next to a floating desktop panel.

Gorilla-man stood by the door, while Lark sat adjacently from the director. The director’s office was as he pictured it, minimal and bare like there weren’t any secrets here. It had to be a lie.

Lark had a sneaking suspicion, the three were not alone in the vast room. But he was unarmed. Not that he could do a thing against a team of potentially armed, and camouflaged soldiers. He drummed a hand against the opaque desk, not liking the silence he received.

“What are we doing here?” Lark asked. As he recalled, Sky had said before to ask the right questions, not questions they didn’t have possible answers to. And he got the feeling he was going to be heavily interrogated under the watchful noses of anyone involved with the agency.

“Talking in private,” Mishka’s father said, his voice tense and tight, his hands clasped together on the top of his desk. The C-shaped chair scraped its wheels against the floor as he leaned in to match Lark’s focal point.

“A lot of us are in the dark about what happened today. The agency already made the announcement across the globe that thousands are dead due to the massive scaled attack from the cultists. In our best rescue efforts, we only managed to save a handful of hundreds from the thousands lost today. And to show for it, we’ve lost a lot of resources. But you, Lark Rune, are the only true survivor we’ve seen in all the chaos that has unfolded within the last thirty-four hours. Even my talented Mishka was taken away from me.”—The wrinkles on his hands ran deep and taut as his knuckles blanched— “What we’d like to most is how did you live?”

“I got lucky.” Lark didn’t blink, keeping an eye on the director’s bent head. He couldn’t tell if the sag beneath his eyes were from old age or tiredness. But it definitely wasn’t from grief. “Mishka used magic today to rescue me and she sacrificed herself so that I could get away. I’m sure you’re familiar with that term magic because the things she could do was more than any normal flying car with alien-technology. She exploded walls and monsters.”

The director’s resting hands moved from the table to right below his chin. Lark worried because he recalled the magic Mishka used were from the items her father had given to her. Or did he remember wrongly, because it seemed like the director had no idea of his daughter’s abilities?

“I’m afraid you’re wrong about that. Our research center studies advanced alien technology. She must’ve stolen the items and figured how to use them all on her own—”

“You must think you’re a slick old fox, but you’re lying,” Lark’s grey eyes gleamed. “Mishka wouldn’t lie about her old man giving her a few magic tools.”

The old man stiffened.

“Now that I think about it…” Lark turned to the half-smiling gorilla-man at the doorway. “Mishka’s pointy nose looks a lot more similar to yours, the real Mr. Fedorov. Can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you though.”

A soft whistle left his nostrils; Mr. Fedorov even snorted the same way Mishka did, sending a painful pang into Lark’s chest.

Mr. Fedorov switched places with the golden-haired man. The C-shaped chair seemed to be built for Mr. Fedorov’s size and somehow the atmosphere became more intimidating as Mr. Fedorov took his rightful seat. His protruding forehead cast a shadow over his already heavy eyelids. As Lark saw it, the man before him had the heart and face of a father who lost his daughter, simply distraught and angry.

“I’ll spare you of asking how you found out, Mishka did pick her friends well. Regretfully, we couldn’t start our conversation earlier.” He spoke with a thick, Russian accent. “For that, I am deeply sorry. But the agency is no more, we were destroyed from the inside-out.”

Lark didn’t show it on his face, but Wangshi was right, the agency was indeed incompetent. They had let spies infiltrate them.

If the agency couldn’t help him track down anyone, then he was wasting time staying in their headquarters. But he still asked, “So what does that mean for us now?”

“I’m going to tell you all that I know about the Wishes of the People…so that you can help me find my daughter.”

Not daring to frown, Lark agreed and Mr. Federov returned his spatial ring. His tongue soured at the new arrangement though. Mishka’s father was going to be used as a scapegoat for the government to use as the face behind the failure to stop the AA cultists. Meanwhile, there was no new plan to pursue the terrorists, because they had no means of knowing where they went. All previously captured terrorists disappeared along with the spies who freed them. It was as if they all disappeared from the face of the earth.

“The Wishes of the People are composed of individuals from different worlds whose main interest lies in uprooting people from their homeworlds and sending them off to places unknown to see how they will survive. They’re an organization that thrives on live experiments. The way that they function is comparable to a mad scientist. For the sake of seeing something interesting, they’re willing to create havoc. But they have a lot of supporters, especially from powerful people, because of an old legend.”

It was a lot to unpack, but oddly enough, the way Mr. Federov spoke about the Wishes of the People, it reminded him of the mysterious inventor he purchased the Trinity Watch from. Not because they were the same person because they definitely weren’t. But the way they talked so fervently about the topic was a bit off like there was a layer of excitement underneath all the information.

“Before I go into the Wishes of the People’s goals, you must know that Mishka and I originate from a different world known as Terragon. I was a part of the event known as The Culling fifty years ago; I was maybe half your age when it happened.”

Lark’s forehead wrinkled. The numbers didn’t make sense.

“Do you know the saying you can take a person out of their home, but you can’t take their home out of them? I’ve never forgotten about Terragon, and Mishka may be a denizen of Earth, but I’d never let my flesh and blood forget about their birth roots.” He tapped his ring finger and nodded towards Lark’s spatial ring. “Like magic.”

“It’s true then, what’s being marketed as alien technology is actually magic.”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you will realize how often knowledge is watered down to calm the masses. Even things like the Internet, you could claim also works like magic. But true magic isn’t like the objects we wear or use, it’s in how we use the strength inside of us to turn the tables.”

Lark didn’t even blink when it happened. While Mr. Federov’s eyes twinkled with mischief on the opposite side of him, Lark sat on the C-shaped chair. The sudden change in perspective sent his heart into overdrive. He saw the golden-haired man smile and Lark couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m intrigued. So Mister fake director are you a denizen of Terragon as well?”

“Yes,” the golden-haired man answered. “Unfortunately, I was just a part-timer in a magic scroll shop. I didn’t have a lick of talent towards using battle magic and neither does Moritz, who was only eight years old. To explain what just happened, Moritz used a simple spatial spell called Transfer, which only works within a small range. Though I suppose if he tried harder, he could reach to where I’m standing only.”

“Nevermind Bon.” Mr. Federov waved off his comrade’s attitude and turned to look at Lark, who couldn’t figure out how to sit without feeling he was about to fall. “So now that you know there are numerous other worlds, it must mean that there are many world travelers who bring otherworldly knowledge such as flying enchantments, certain medicines, and as you are aware special, deadly weapons. The spatial ring is one such special product that I’ve only seen on the cultists, which is why I was very shocked to see you had one.”

Lark’s hands felt tied. Surely it would hurt Mr. Federov’s feelings if he said Wangshi kept it for him because he was sure the agency wouldn’t know how to use it.

“I picked it off a cultist and Mishka told me to use Blood Rite on it to help us turn the tables so to speak. Now, I suppose I should let you know how I escaped them.”

With those last words, everyone’s interest piqued.

Turning the ring to his ‘on’ position, he said, “Gushi come out.”Gushi, the buoyant slime, materialized out of the ring, enveloping the back of Lark’s head like a second head. The sensation tickled the back of Lark’s neck like a water pillow.

“So this is Gushi, the slime I met during the fight with the cultists.” He wore a weird grin on his face while feeling the cool, pleasant sensation of Gushi’s gummy body massaging away the strains in his neck. Mr. Federov and Bon had fixed gazes; though not maybe the strangest sight they have ever seen, it's certainly the first time they’ve seen a slime glomp a human.

Gushi gelled through Lark’s blond hair, pulling strands forward until it formed a mighty, yet small horn. Proud of its aerodynamic creation, Gushi bounced on Lark’s head as if telling him, “My masterpiece is complete!”

Lark stared up at the slime sitting on the top of his head. Gushi had no face, so he couldn’t tell what kind of expression the slime fiend was showing, but what a little mischievous personality he had befriended.

“Stop messing around up there,” Lark said.

As if laughing, Gushi wiggled its body and untangled the unicorn hair and smoothed back Lark’s hair. Slick, slime-gelled back hair projected a simple, clean look that said Lark was here to get shit done. Gushi hopped onto Lark’s shoulder and then onto the table to greet Mr. Federov with a dance Lark thought was comparable to a jiggling pudding.

Bon spoke up, “How unscientific. I’ve heard of monster corpse collections in storage rings, but never live creatures staying in there though.”

Lark was about to say he got the idea from watching a popular monster-collecting cartoon he watched as a kid until Mr. Federov asked a question. “The slimes that were used by the cultists to capture people were as big as airships, so how is this Gushi so small?” Currently, the cute, buoyant slime was the size of the computer monitor it swallowed when it met Lark and his friends; about eighteen inches wide, and twelve inches tall. Mr. Federov couldn’t resist poking the side of Gushi’s cheek.

Sensing a trifling remark about itself, Gushi vibrated, causing the fluid in its belly to bubble. Like steam carried off boiled water, Gushi’s body ballooned.

Bon clambered over to the table, where Gushi the mini slime king stood at over five feet tall, and remarked, “A slime used a body tempering skill! Incredible! Truly unscientific. I don’t really know which art it is, maybe Body Expansion or Boiled Body or even Pliable Body! But Mr. Rune you do own a remarkable slime.”

Lark nodded in agreement. While he was happy to learn about Gushi’s ability that tricked the cultist known as Tim, at the same time he couldn’t help but feel saddened by the way Bon talked. He recalled all the times when Mishka spoke in a very fast-paced manner like Bon when she saw things she couldn’t understand. Considering how close Bon was to Mr. Federov, Lark guessed Bon’s relationship with Mishka would be similar to either a godfather or uncle. Uncle Bon had a better ring than Godfather Bon though.

“Thankfully, Gushi helped me trick the cultist into thinking I was taken in by one of their slimes when actually Gushi came out of the spatial ring and saved me at the last minute,” Lark said, observing Mr. Federov through Gushi’s transparent body. Tired of showing off, Gushi shrunk back to its comfortable size and repeated its jiggly dance to the very fascinated Uncle Bon.

“I want to rescue both Sky and Mishka,” Lark continued. “From your experience, however, it sounds like after The Culling all the kidnapped victims would be transferred to other worlds immediately. Do you know if all the victims from Terragon ended up here fifty years ago?”

Mr. Federov reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a paper filled with names of less than a hundred people. “Throughout my time on Earth, I’ve only managed to reach out to a few real foreigners. Most of them are regulars I grew acquainted with at Soko’s. Some are from Terragon, and some are from other places like Pantheon or Volaria to name a couple.” The hopelessness in Mr. Federov’s words showed and Lark felt a hammer strike his heart. But it did not stop there after Mr. Federov told Lark to take a closer look at him and Bon. “We look the same age, yes?”

Lark tilted his head but agreed anyway. The two men were well past their prime and had white whiskers combing the sides of their face.

“Bon was his in mid-twenties when the Wishes of the People took him. I was eight. We shouldn’t be the same age, yet here we are both at the age of fifty-eight.”

“What do you mean?” His fingers flattened against the opaque desk.

“We’re not sure how the Wishes of the People can conduct a large-scale transfer at different location points, but one requirement is time and matter. When I transferred over, I was still eight years old with my original body. Bon arrived on earth fifty-eight years ago as a mere babe.”

Soon the light left Lark’s eyes. It was as if he was experiencing the kidnapping for the second time.

His mouth opened and closed. Twice. The words wouldn’t come out.

This knowledge wouldn’t change a thing, temporarily. Moreover, Mr. Federov nor Bon seemed aware if it was the time that shifted or if it was was their physical bodies that changed. For instance, if they were transferred from Terragon at the same time and Bon arrived first as a baby, then did that mean his time reversed or did his physical body itself changed? Mr. Federov, on the other hand, held the same appearance but came eight years after Bon first arrived. So where was he for eight years?

Lark laced his fingers together. If they arrived here at different points in time, then would Sky and Mishka experience similar issues? Would he find them as he remembered them?

Mr. Federov removed a flash drive from his computer. “Now that you know the truth, I want you to have this.”

Gushi looked up expectantly at the flash drive in Mr. Federov’s hand. The old man squinted his icy, blue eyes and chuckled when placing the drive on the table. Gushi rolled up the drive into its slimy body and bounced over to the surprised Lark. Gushi spat out the flash drive that was free of any goop and wiggled happily when Lark patted its head for a job well done.

“What’s on it?” Lark asked while examining the unexceptional black flash drive the size of a rectangular lego block.

“More information, I’ve compiled over the years that I think may help you find your friends.” Mr. Federov said as he stood up straightening his coat.

Lark looked inquisitively at the solemn Mr. Federov and Bon. “Are you giving up?”

The two men had walked over to an empty area of the darkroom close to the wall.

“I don’t plan to stay on the planet, in which I feel so alienated. And I don’t wish to see what the government will do to maintain an information blackout.” Mr. Federov said as he initiated a program order on his smartphone. Outside of the large windows, steel beams cascaded down, keeping the room under lockdown.

True, thousands of citizens were taken without a show of resistance. People were scared. And angry. Who better to blame than the system that promised them a free, yet safe society.

“We’ve also acquired a safe passage home to Terragon.” For the first time since their conversation began, Mr. Federov sighed and Lark tensed. Gushi jumped in front of Lark as the camouflaged guests in the room revealed themselves.

“I was wrong about you,” Lark growled, seeing the identities behind Mr. Federov and Bon. Beyond his wildest imaginations, he wouldn’t have guessed the AA cultists or he should refer to them now as the Wishes of the People were the hidden ones in the room. “You really had me going. The agency was actually working with the organization they promised to take down. Laughable really.”

Lark gritted his teeth, seeing the person he least expected to be there still. Tim.

Using the same hideous accent, Tim greeted Lark, and then said, “You are somethin’ special. Able to fool me, a high-ranking member of the order.”

Lark’s eyes narrowed but said nothing.

“Naww, can’t have you be angry like that — I did say I’d fulfill one of your requests.” Tim released a high-pitched giggle and the sea of black, robed cultists parted for him to walk to the wall and knocked twice on the steel panels.

Tim had a playful look on his face, eager for Lark to amuse him. “Knock, knock?”

Lark’s trigger finger twitched. He had caught the faces of the traitors in the crowd. But he kept his anger bottled in, and played the game. The sooner this was over, the better.

“Who’s there?”

“Don’t go.”

“…Don’t go who?”

Tim’s clown-like grin grew wider if possible, and a white magic circle appeared under his black gloved hand. It had a complicated star formation within several concentric circles. The white lines, forming the stars, withdrew from the circle and formed an archway.

Bon gasped. “Constellation arts!”

Lark stood up immediately and retrieved the handgun from the still opened sphere.

“No more funny business—” He stopped midway, holding the gun at eye-level towards Tim. His eyes widened at the sight of the archway barreling a tied up Wangshi towards the room.

“Wangshi!” Lark shouted. In a moment of distraction, a cultist whipped the gun out his hand. The vine-like movement lashed against his arm, before his loyal caretaker’s body shot out from the doorway and into his open chest. With quick thinking, Gushi jumped up, taking the initiative to be the cream of the Oreo, and lessened the impact between Wangshi and Lark.

“Don’t go gettin’ your knickers in a knot!” Tim slapped his thigh with a high guffaw. After retrieving the gun, the cultist who lashed out retreated into the archway before the rest. Mr. Federov and Bon were about to follow suit when Lark shouted.

Lifting the unconscious Wangshi off of him, Lark held their gaze. “Did they promise you Mishka’s safety? Is that why you’re willing to go with them?”

Mr. Federov answered. “Yes, she’s supposed to be arriving in Terragon. That was our arrangement with letting The Culling happen.”

Anger and relief flashed through him. His mind was in so much turmoil from all the recent events and information overload, but even so, he spoke calmly to Mr. Federov. “If you see her…tell her not to worry about Sky. I’ll find him.”

He paused and promised one more thing, “And you, I better not see you ever again or else.”

Mr. Federov turned away from Lark’s piercing gaze, while a conflicted look washed over Bon’s face as the two walked towards the lit path. He whispered to his friend Moritz, “Why did you tell him the truth about letting The Culling occur?”

The two were now well beyond the arched doorway and inside the tunnel of light.

“I wondered if Mishka picked the right son-in-law,” Mr. Federov said, no longer hiding a smile. “And anger is a good motivator for starters. It’s not like they promised we’d see her right away and Terragon is twice the size of Earth. You could say, I’m counting on the stars of their friendship. Our reunion may occur quicker in time if they can find each other again.”

The only cultist left in the room was Tim, who stood captivated by all the unfolding events. Lark Rune came way out of his expectations, but finally, the Wishes of the People’s plans were back in order. Unfortunately, Lark Rune would no longer have a role in their project.

“You’re not here to kidnap me?” Lark asked.

“I’m ‘fraid not today. You see we could’ve done great things together, but you messed up your one and only chance to be part of the order!” Tim shook his head with a pitiful look directed at Lark. He looked at an invisible watch on his wrist and exclaimed, “Oh look at the time, Star Tunnels have a time lapse, so I better hurry, but before I go, I’ll tell you this…”

Lark’s brows furrowed. Just go!

“You have no chance of finding either of them if you can’t leave this world.” Tim took a single step into the white tunnel. Unlike the mocking tones Lark was used to, Tim’s voice contained sinister confidence that tempted Lark to beg.

He refused to give in. “I told you, it’s not over. I’ll find them myself, and I’ll end you.”

If he believed his own words, he’ll make sure others do too! Looking in deep thought by Lark’s harsh words, Tim made no further comments and left. The tunnel collapsed unto itself like a dying star, leaving Lark with his unconscious slime and caretaker.

He looked around the room and wondered how he could leave.

Luckily, the door he came in with Bon and Mr. Federov was still unlocked. He placed Gushi back inside his storage ring and carried Wangshi on his back.

For someone who got discharged only hours ago, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be doing some heavy lifting, but there was no other choice. Wangshi looked like he was still in a deep sleep, and would not wake no matter how many times Lark prodded his cheeks and pulled on his goatee.

In one of the many hallways in Friledaux Hospital, he found a wheelchair for Wangshi to sit in. He didn’t think the billion-dollar healthcare enterprise would mind if he took one measly wheelchair. In fact, it should be their duty to care for the sick and unconscious elderly he reasoned. Besides none of the hospital staff questioned him wheeling away a sleeping old man in tattered clothes. Maybe it was due to his handsomely good looks, he hoped.

Once he reached the outside of the building, Lark reached inside his storage ring to see if he could fish out the bus pass Sky had lent him days ago. He had ‘forgotten’ to return it. He frowned when he realized he left it at home and wondered how long it would take to walk home in the dark while wheeling a sleeping old man.

Taking a few strides towards the parking lot, he saw his SUV and he hurriedly ransacked Wangshi’s waistband for the keys.

He buckled Wangshi on the passenger side and rolled back his shoulders. Seriously, how were his arms moving, he wondered and sat in the driver’s seat. Wangshi’s legs were longer than his, so he had inched forward the seat a bit before starting up the vehicle.

COSMO, the voice navigator greeted him and said because Lark was a minor without a license the vehicle would not be able to move.

“I’m invoking the law for minors to drive with an adult.”

“Your guardian is currently incapacitated to monitor your driving, so this solution is unacceptable.”

“Then invoke an emergency right that the adult is incapacitated.”

“You’re already at a hospital sir.”

“DAMMIT. COSMO just auto-pilot us home!”

“…Okay. Routing the fastest home…Unable to route, please turn on the ignition.”

Lark slammed his head on the steering wheel.

He rifled through the medicine cabinet back in the Cyan Cottage and popped a couple of pain-killers before finding the strong-smelling liquid medicine.

He took a quick whiff over the bottle and his eyes watered. That’s how you can tell it’s the good stuff. He doused the medication over a hand-towel and waved it over Wangshi’s sleeping face while chanting, “No more dormir, no dormir, no dormir. Buenos días, señor.”

Maybe it was the ridiculous chanting or the squeezed lemon face Wangshi made that caused Lark to burst into laughter.

The caretaker’s eyes stung and his nose felt like it had been dipped into a bowl of foul perfume for days. After hacking up a storm and rubbing the sides of his temples, his body urged to go back to sleep. But his mind was restless. With the splitting ache in his chest and mind, he groaned into a pillow.

Worried, Lark rubbed Wangshi’s back.

Like waking up from a hangover, Wangshi made more garbling noises before recognizing his surroundings. His green eyes sharpened as he expressed his shock. His hands gripped Lark’s shoulder, pinching them till Lark was sure they would bruise. But he didn’t complain. Like Wangshi, he wanted to be sure of the reality they survived.

“Welcome back to Earth, Wangshi. I’m glad you’re here.”

Choked with emotion, Wangshi swallowed down the pain stuck in his throat as he smoothed his wrinkled hands over Lark’s wet eyes and pulled him tightly against his weak bones. A measly sob of frustration escaped him.

He had failed. Failed miserably even and had let the young master save him instead. How could he face Lars at this rate?

The night was long but short for reunions. A fragile peace could not last when Lark still had to look for all his friends. Wangshi had calmed down once Lark poured him his favorite cup of Black Rose tea.

“You’re not afraid, young master? From the sound of it, the Wishes of the People is a powerful organization with mysterious backers. Mr. Federov even forgot to tell you their goal.”

“Sky often repeated this phrase: 'Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not.' Now I know we are not alone. So, why should I be afraid?”

He removed his contact lens and wobbled over to his bed. Rest and time to think, he needed those to be ready for a new day. He felt ready to escape into dreamland until he remembered what Mr. Federov mentioned about real foreigners.

“Book an appointment with Soko’s. We need to verify if Mr. Federov was telling the truth and if magic is actually being marketed as alien-technology.”

“Yes, young master.” Wangshi bowed out of the room after Lark wished him goodnight. Unable to fall asleep immediately, Lark turned on his spatial ring and brought Gushi next to him. Feeling immensely better, Lark turned to the silvery moonlight pouring from his window. The pale moonlight harmonized with his paired orbs as sleep caught up to him. In the darkness, a happy picture of graduation floated up into his mind and then became a blur with the headache that followed.