It was calm. The twilight colors of an evening sun were bleeding through cracks in the ceiling. The once metallically golden throne room was now coated in the natural, soft, warm golden light of the sky—the light of a sun setting on the past. While the whole room was still not basked in it, the holes that were now present allowed it to finally be free of the man-made colors that were once affixed to it.

After taking a few seconds to look at what he had done, Vincent Huron began to make his way down the stairs. At least, that was his plan. The moment he turned around, he was greeted by the flying embrace of Eliot. Vincent accepted to hug with open arms and the two of them spun around for a few times.

Soon enough, even Zander joined them and the three of them released their tensed emotions out in a single, warm embrace. That lasted for a few seconds before they eventually let go of one another.

“It’s really over, isn’t it?” Eliot asked with a tearful smile.

Brushing his dirtied hair aside, Vincent replied, “I guess so, yeah, for this place.”

Zander placed a hand on Vincent’s shoulder and added, “But there’s still much more that needs to be done.” He then looked behind the throne and behind Lucretia’s unmoving body. “We still have to do what we originally came here to do.”

Both Eliot and Vincent looked at each other and nodded.

“Now,” Zander started to say, placing his hand on his chin, “how in the world do we open a giant vault like this?”

Vincent playfully hit him on the shoulder. “Dude, I literally just did something like this a few minutes ago.”

“Oh yeah,” Zander shook his head, “I keep forgetting that your ability can push any matter aside. I guess I don’t have to think too hard about these kinds of things anymore.”

“That’s right,” Vincent replied, flexing his arm, “you can rely on me. Isn’t that right, Eliot?”

When Vincent said that, he went to look at where Eliot was, but found that he was nowhere in sight. Vincent looked around his immediate vicinity, but still saw no signs of him. Luckily, he managed to spot him towards the back of the room, walking up to the body of Fang. He smiled and turned back around to face the vault entrance. With a crack of the neck, he said, “Devoid,” and a 3 foot void was created within the door.

When he released it, the darkened interior of the vault room was exposed. Vincent then looked at Zander and said, “You ready to find out a little more about the truth?”

“Not without us,” a voice called out from behind them.

Looking back, Vincent smiled as he saw that the voice came from Fang, who was being helped up the stairs by Eliot. Their arm was wrapped around his shoulder and they hobbled a bit as they tried to make their way up the stairs.

“Yo! I’m glad to see you up!” Vincent shouted. “You wanna see what Lucretia had stored back here?”

“I wouldn’t want to miss it,” Fang replied.

With a smile and a nod, Vincent stepped into the hole in the vault door that he created. Stepping inside, he noticed that it was a bit hard to see anything. Only the first dozen feet or so in the room was clearly visible, as the only light in the room was the light let in from the throne room.

What he did see immediately in front of him was a floor that was covered in nothing but a similar gold-marbled tiling, striped with purple lines of carpet. On the edges of his vision, he saw a few rectangular shapes that were about as tall as him or a bit shorter. Without hesitation, he continued forward, followed by the rest of his friends.

After taking a few more steps forward, the light suddenly turned on. Vincent tensed up and immediately brought his guard up. His eyes darted back and forth through the entire room, but nothing seemed to move or pose an immediate danger. Finally, he turned around to see if someone had entered the room. What he did see, instead, was three friends on the verge of laughter.

“What’s going on?” Vincent asked, still a bit on edge.

“Vince…” Zander said, his voice inflecting upwards. “Did you even think to turn on the lights?” As he said that, Vincent’s eyes followed Zander’s hands to the light switch that they were resting on.

Vincent’s face grew a bit red and he quickly turned around. With haste, he moved through the vault room.

With the lights now illuminating every inch of the room, the sheer size of it made itself known. While the room was called a vault room, it looked more like a display room than anything else. The room itself was massive and voluminous. It was about 50 feet wide and three times as long. The ceiling stood 10 feet above the floor for most of the room, except for the very back. Towards the back of the room was a black silhouette that extended far past the ceiling, showing that the ceiling in that section was much taller.

Filling up the space of the vault room were dozens, if not hundreds of items encased in glass boxes, sitting on top of decorated pedestals. Most of them seemed to be antique in nature, while others seemed much more ancient. There were all sorts of things behind the display cases, from helmets, vases, coins, paintings, and more. It seemed like anything of extreme worth was kept in them and shown off.

To Vincent, everything just seemed like a bunch of old rusted stuff. Because of that, he marched right past every single thing that was displayed and headed straight for the back of the room. However, that being said, one piece that caught his attention for a slight second was a black shard of some kind that was encased on a pedestal a few feet away from anything else. Even so, he didn’t pay it any mind and continued to walk towards the back.

As he did, he turned back to see Zander and Eliot in a trance. Zander’s focus was entirely on a collection of armor that looked like it was in pristine condition, but the making seemed old. The display case read Roman.

Eliot, on the other hand, had a complex expression on his face. His eyes, as stained as they have been throughout most of the visit in the Setting Sun, were bright and shining. He was staring at a painting that was a bit abstract in nature, composed primarily with deep blues and luscious greens.

Vincent rolled his eyes, smiled, and continued forwards. The closer he got to the back, the more defined the black silhouette became. When he got about 20 feet away from it, the room changed. That being said, changed isn’t the right word. The room with the silhouette seemed to be an entirely different room, hastily attached to the end of the display section.

The moment he stepped into that section of the vault room, his head snapped upwards. The room itself was shaped like a rectangle, sitting long side vertical. The length and width of the room were about 25 feet, but the height was about 100 feet tall. While it may seem like a strange design choice, it made perfect sense when looking at what was situated directly in the middle of it. In the center of that added-on addition to the vault, was a giant, black obelisk.

The obelisk looked identical to the one in Maryland. The way it simultaneously absorbed and reflected light was perplexing and hard to grasp. The shapes and colors that occasionally found itself swirling around on it were almost unimaginable. Etched onto most of it were similar symbols to the ones on the previous obelisk.

The longer he stared at the obelisk, the closer he felt like he got to it. His vision started to tunnel inwards towards the spiraling light within it. Before he knew it, his body had moved up right next to it. Instinctually, he reached a hand out and touched it.

The moment he made contact with the towering, alien structure, various images flashed through his brain. Like bolts of lightning, those images turned into scenes—scenes that he had never seen, but ones that felt oddly familiar. He saw scenes of a laboratory, scenes of absolute nothingness, scenes of refracting light that spiraled all around him, and finally, a scene of a white-winged man slowly turning around towards him. While he did not recognize the man, he couldn’t help but feel a single emotion when looking at him…hate.

The entire time that was happening, his body was completely numb. He felt nothing, heard nothing, but saw everything. He simultaneously understood everything that he saw and understood nothing about it. Everything was paradoxical in nature and he fought with himself to not lose himself from within himself. Through the nonsensical confusion, he heard voices.

“Vince…”

“Vince…”

“Vincent!”

His eyes blinked back to reality. He quickly withdrew his hand away from the obelisk and shook his head. The ringing numbness in his brain fizzled away and the normal warmth of being alive took over. Snapping back, he looked around him and saw the concerned look of his friends.

“What?” Vincent asked.

“You totally conked out for a sec, dude,” Eliot responded.

“You looked a bit dazed,” Zander added. “Are you alright?”

Vincent rubbed his head a bit and replied, “Yeah, I’m fine.” He then looked up at the obelisk. “Well, let’s take a look at what we came for.”

Zander, who started to put away his notebook, rolled his eyes and said, “You really weren’t paying attention, huh? We already finished with that a few minutes ago.”

A few minutes? Vincent pondered to himself.

“Well,” Fang began to speak up, “should we be going?”

The other three looked at each other, nodded, and started to make their way out of the room. The group walked out of the vault room, paused near Lucretia’s body, and then exited the throne room. From there, they managed to make it to an elevator that wasn’t destroyed by Vincent and take it down to the Diamond Pillar.

As the elevator doors opened, the group was caught off guard by what they saw. The entire floor was littered with police officers, medics, and other sort of emergency personnel. There were dozens of people on the floor, handcuffed, both wealthy-looking and damaged.

Vincent nervously turned to Zander, but before he could say anything, Zander stated, “I know what you’re going to say, and it’s actually good to see police officers in this place. Normally, there would be absolutely no law enforcement in this part of the casino, for obvious reasons. It’s easy to deny knowing about something if you never see it.”

“So the fact that they’re here…” Eliot started to question.

“Means that the powers that once held an iron grip on this place have finally run out of influence,” Zander finished Eliot’s statement. “The secret of this place will be exposed to the world soon.”

Vincent looked around at the people that haven’t seem to notice them yet and then back to Zander. “Yeah that’s cool, but I still don’t want to be anywhere near them,” he retorted.

“No, I agree with you. We should probably avoid them and make our way out of this place in secret.”

“Then why don’t we use that wine place we met at before?” Fang suggested.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Zander agreed.

Carefully, the group made their way towards Bacch. Along their path, they managed to stay out of the gaze of any law enforcement. The winery was not filled with any officers, but there were a few that were wandering around the Pillar outside of it—it appeared that they hadn’t fully made their yet.

With ease, they managed to make it into the secret garden and out into the daylight. That being said, the light that shone was orange, while the shadows were elongated. The sun was already starting to set behind the horizon.

After standing still for a moment, taking in the free air of the outside, Vincent turned and asked, “So what now?”

Fang stepped forward and replied, “Maybe it’s for the best that we get far away from here.”

“Will the people in the Setting Sun be alright?” Eliot sincerely asked. “I don't want everything that we did to be for nothing.”

“They’ll be fine,” Zander assured. “Considering that the police were in there, I would wager that the international detective managed to make it there, too.” He then turned towards Fang. “And I agree with you, we need to get away and be alone while I decode the obelisk’s message.”

“Then I know just the place,” Fang commented. “But first, we need to go rent a car.”

The group then began to walk towards a car rental place—one that Fang said that they were familiar with. After walking for a few minutes, about two minutes or so away from the car rental, a car suddenly turned around with a screeching halt.

Turning around, Vincent watched a man hurriedly step out of the car. The man was wearing a long, brown jacket and a slightly worn pair of jeans. His peppered hair was short and cut tight, while his goatee seemed to blend in with his five o’clock shadow. With a cigarette in his mouth, the figure shouted out towards Vincent, “What are the odds?”

While he didn’t recognize the voice, Vincent did know who the man was. He had seen him once before during the attack on the school. Calling out towards Vincent was the fire-finger guy that assaulted them within the burning building.

Vincent turned towards his friends and yelled, “Run! I’ll hold him off.”

Eliot and Zander both nodded and immediately started to book it. Fang, on the other hand, seemed to be a bit confused about the tension. Still, they followed the social cue from the other two and ran along with them.

With his friends running towards safety, Vincent responded to the man. “What do you want?”

Taking a puff of his cigarette, the man replied, “Justice.” He then pulled out a revolver from his waist and kept it pointed towards the ground. “You’re all wanted men and I’m gonna bring you in.”

Vincent lowered himself into a colder place. “I’m sure we are after what we did to your system, ya stupid hogs.”

“System? If that's what ya call killing innocent people, then yeah, I am bringing you in for that.”

Gritting his teeth, Vincent responded, “Lucretia ain’t innocent, asshat, and you know it.”

A slight break in the man’s stoic composure showed through for just a second, as his eyes mirrored a confused look. “Lucretia?” Just as quickly as that came, his hardened expression returned to him. “I don’t know what you’re on about but I think it’s about time we settle this.” He then clicked the hammer of his gun into place.

Both of them stared at each other for a few seconds before one of them broke the tension of the space. The man quickly brought his gun up, and in response, Vincent created a void in front of him.

A couple shots were fired, but they were deflected by the void. In the brief seconds of silence after the initial round of bullets were unleashed, Vincent released his void and used godspeed. He used that opening in order to close the gap between them.

The moment he got next to the man, Vincent used his speed to knock the man to the ground. With a thud, the man collided with the cement. Vincent planned on using that moment to deliver a final starbreaker to end the fight, but when he looked down at his opponent, his eyes widened with shock. The man’s focus was never broken—he continued to stare at Vincent, even as his head hit the ground.

Before he could react, the flame from the man’s cigarette ignited into a sudden burst of flames. The sting of heat was so strong that Vincent instinctively shielded his face instead using his powers. He then rolled on the ground and put some distance between himself and the fire.

With only smoke remaining, the man stood up from the ground and continued to glare at Vincent. “It seems you’ve learned a few tricks,” he commented.

Rubbing a bit of the burnt skin off his arm, Vincent snarkly replied, “Don’t talk to me like ya know me.”

“I know that you’re wanted for terrorism and murder across the ocean, and that’s all I care about.”

As Vincent took a deep breath and started to cool himself, he heard a new sound enter the fray.

HONK HONK

An old, beaten-up truck was barreling his direction, slightly to his right. At first, he tensed up and prepared for even more trouble, but as the sun’s reflection on the windshield moved out of the way, he smiled when he saw who was behind the wheel.

Eliot, who was in the passenger seat, waved out the window and pointed to the trunk. Vincent then dug his feet into the ground and prepared himself. Just as the truck was about to pass him, he leaped up and to his right. While in the air, he reached his arm out and felt it find purchase on something. He was then suddenly yanked along with the truck and found himself in the truck’s bed.

As he tumbled in the bed, he looked up and saw that his arm was being held by Fang. Before he could even sit up, he heard the sound of bullets connecting with the exterior of the truck. And so, he stayed huddled down, and Fang followed suit.

After about 10 minutes passed, and there were no further sounds of gunfire, Vincent felt safe enough to sit up and look around him. The truck was still in the middle of Cairo, but there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. In fact, he felt oddly at peace when he felt the wind blow his hair back as the truck continued to drive farther and farther away from the casino.

The scenery around him was just as cluttered as it was when he first arrived in the city, but compared to the claustrophobic hell that was the Setting Sun, he gladly welcomed the busy roads. The people that inhabited those roads were busy, but in a peaceful way. The smiles on their faces were not forced and every emotion that they displayed was natural.

As the truck came to a red traffic light, Zander rolled down his window and asked, “So where are we going? Because I can’t read any of these signs.”

“Well,” Fang began to answer, “if you continue on this road for about—”

“Wait!” Vincent blurted out. “Aren’t you going to ask about what happened back there?”

“That can wait until we’re in a more remote location,” Zander replied.

Fair enough, Vincent thought.

For the next three hours, Fang guided Zander through the busy and twisting highways. Zander, who only gave into his road rage four times, managed to drive the car in a safe manner. Eventually, they found themselves on a back-country road that was barely wide enough for a single car. The road itself was surrounded by open, cracked desert plains. Occasionally there were some rocky hills and shrubbery, but for the most part, the scenery was barren.

By the time they made it to their destination, the sun was nowhere in sight, and the stars in the night sky were the only source of light. The waxing moon was partially obscured by the clouds above, and because of the low light, they almost missed where they were supposed to go.

“Right here!” Fang yelled.

With the car coming to a stop, Vincent saw where they were staying for the night. In the middle of the empty wasteland that they drove through, just off the road, was a single building. The building itself was the size of an average American, midwestern home, but looked completely different. The exterior was composed mainly of brick and stone, and anything beyond that was hard to discern in the night.

The group then parked behind the building, where Fang instructed them to, and they quickly made their way through the front door. The interior of the building was fairly similar to the outside, but it was warmer and more inviting.

A single elderly man sat behind a mahogany desk towards the back of the room. His skin was weathered and wrinkled from time, and that skin wrinkled even more when he smiled. His hair was thin and white, and most of his head was bald, with a few brown spots on it.

To the right and left of the man were doors that lead further back into the building. Above the man, resting on two wooden rods that jutted out of the wall, was a beautiful acoustic guitar.

The group then walked up to the man and the man began to speak to them. The language that he spoke was foreign to Vincent, although he heard a lot of the people in Cairo speak something similar.

Vincent turned to his friends and asked, “How are we supposed to ask for a room? I don’t speak anything but English.”

“And even that’s a bit debatable,” Zander jabbed.

“Don’t worry,” Fang said, stepping ahead of the group, “I’ll handle it.” They then strolled up to the man that Vincent assumed was the owner, receptionist, or both.

The man said something in his native tongue and Fang replied in the same language. Their conversation lasted a few minutes, with both Fang and the man chuckling a few times. At some point, the man asked Fang something and they blushed a bit and seemed to decline.

After the conversation was over, Fang returned to the group and said, “Alright, it looks like we got a place for the night.”

“That was sooooooo cool,” Eliot said, his eyes glimmering with excitement.

“Well, I have been all over the world,” Fang awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of their head. “I’ve learned to speak many languages—it’s one of the things I’m most passionate about.”

“That’s so impressive,” Eliot reiterated.

“So are we going to turn it in for the night?” Zander asked, switching subjects.

“I guess so,” Fang answered. “I don’t know if there is anything else to do.”

“A campfire!” Vincent proclaimed.

“A campfire?” Zander questioned.

“Yeah, of course,” Vincent matter-of-factly replied. “It’s a beautiful night out—the stars are shinin’, the sky is mostly clear, and it’s just warm enough outside. Besides, it doesn’t look like anyone else is here.”

All three of the friends just looked at him. None of them spoke up for a second as they pondered what Vincent proposed. Finally, Fang spoke up, but not at Vincent. They turned around to the man behind the desk and said something to him. The man replied and Fang finished the conversation.

Well,” they started to say, “if we want, there’s a fire ring out back and the owner said that we can use it.”

“Let’s go!” Vincent exclaimed, marching out towards the back.

Eventually, the group of friends found themselves next to a happily glowing fire. The light of the burning wood cascaded itself across each of their faces, showing off the smiles that they had while talking to each other. Jokes were made, insults were sluing, and reminiscing about days of the past took place. Time lost its sense of meaning in that window of bliss that they all shared. It truly was the calm after a storm, and one that tasted like burnt hotdogs and marshmallows.

As the energy began to mellow out, Eliot asked the group, “So what now? I don’t think I can eat anymore.”

“And I’m out of insults that involve all your mothers,” Vincent added.

They all laughed.

“What about some other form of entertainment?” Zander proposed.

“Like what?” Eliot asked. “Do you want me to juggle? I haven’t done that since eighth grade.”

“What about music?” Vincent mentioned.

“I actually like that idea,” Zander stated.

“Same here,” Eliot agreed.

“Does anyone here play an instrument or sing?” Fang asked.

Eliot raised his hand. “I play the saxophone and trumpet.”

“And I play the piano, but I know that I didn’t see one inside,” Zander added.

Fang then turned their attention towards Vincent.

“Don’t look at me,” Vincent said, raising his hands up in the air in a defensive manner. “I’ve never even hit a correct note in my life.”

“Not even on a piano,” Zander joked.

Vincent then returned Fang’s look and asked, “What about you?”

Blushing a bit, they responded, “Well, I, uh, I don’t know, I haven’t…”

“Awwww come on, let it out.”

Fang took a deep breath and sighed. “I do play the guitar,” they hesitantly said. “But I don’t have one on me.”

Jumping to his feet, Vincent yelled, “Wait right there!”

He then took off in a dead sprint towards the building. He darted inside and drifted his way to the receptionist desk in the front. When he got there, he slammed his hands on the desk, which caused the owner to jump a bit.

“Can I borrow that?” Vincent asked, pointing at the guitar hanging up on the wall behind the owner.

The owner just looked at him with a confused look. He cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Hmmmm.”

Vincent then tried to think of how to ask for the guitar. He tried to recall anything that Fang said to the man, but in all honesty, he didn’t pay attention to a single second of their conversation. Finally, after throwing away every idea he had, he just pointed at the guitar and smiled. He then pointed outside and made a strumming motion with his hands, like he was playing a guitar.

It took the owner a few seconds, but they finally opened their mouth and smiled. With a nod, they reached for the guitar behind them and handed it to Vincent. The moment he got it, Vincent said, “Thank you!” and began to run back to his friends.

When he arrived back at the campfire, with a newfound passion ignited in his heart, he shoved the guitar on Fang. He then quickly ran back to his seat and sat down.

“Well then,” Fang said, a smile slightly breaking through.

“Do you know any songs?” Eliot asked. “What about that one that every person asks someone when they play guitar?”

“Let’s be a bit original,” Zander insisted.

Fang continued to look down at the guitar. “I’m not sure if I know any songs.” They then continued to stare deeply into the very wood that made up that instrument. “Actually, I might know one.”

“What song? What song?” Vincent impatiently asked.

With a nostalgic smile, Fang replied, “One that I wrote a long time ago.” They then looked back up at the group. “It’s one that I haven’t thought about in years.”

“What’s it about?” Eliot sincerely asked.

With a quick sigh, Fang said, “It’s hard to say what it’s about, because it’s more about how I felt at the time.” They then raised their eyebrows and said something under their breath. “There was a fantasy book that I read when I was younger, one that I think you,” they said, motioning towards Eliot, “have read.”

“Oh, so you do know it!” Eliot delightfully exclaimed.

“I do,” Fang answered. “I had almost forgotten about it, but when you were telling me about the story that changed your life, I couldn’t help but feel that it felt familiar.” They then strummed the guitar one time. As they began to tune it, they continued their thought. “While you were inspired by the side character, Emmer, I was inspired by an even more obscured figure in the story.”

“Which one?”

“The Teller of a Thousand Tales.” Fang continued to look at the strings of the guitar. “They’re only mentioned a few times, but in the story, they are more of a legend than an actual character. In that world, they are someone that is said to travel all over the world, gathering stories from every inch of the earth. It’s said that if your story gets spread all over the world and sung in bars far and wide, then it was the doing of the Teller of a Thousand Tales. Those are said to be the tales that are specially handpicked by the Teller, themselves.” Fang then strummed the now in tune guitar.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Eliot said.

“They must have been the freest person in the world,” Fang commented, their head still stuck in the fantasy world of their childhood. They then shook their head and laughed a bit. “Anyway, I wrote this song, and I don’t think it really has a name. Let’s see if I can remember how it goes.”

Silently, Vincent, Zander, and Eliot watched in awe as Fang began to play the guitar. Clearing their throat and waiting a few measures before starting, Fang began to sing.

“Notes are my solace

Rhythm beats my heart

I’m left to wonder how

To write the next part

Journeys take you places

But music takes your soul

And lets your mind wander

To places untold

Lost beneath weight of all

I ever wished to play

Walking down a path not mine

Please just let me say

I fantasized about your songs

A dozen times or more

Teller of a Thousand Tales

Sing me just one more

Gaps of time to sign

The bars that all break

The world ain’t white or black

Written just to take

Finding my own tune

To live and breathe by

Humming fills the spirit with

A hero's hope to fly

Lost beneath weight of all

I ever wished to play

Walking down a path not mine

Please just let me say

I fantasized about your songs

A dozen times or more

Teller of a Thousand Tales

Sing me just one more

I fantasized about your songs

A hundred times or more

Teller of a Thousand Tales

Sing me just one more

I fantasized about your songs

A thousand times or more

Teller of a Thousand Tales

Let me sing one more”