“Please tell me you didn’t just say what I think you just said.” The inspector looked at Agent Price as though she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

“If you think I just said that the second attempted assassination of Serenity in New York City nearly ended up also killing an FBI agent and that it’s being covered up, then I’m afraid I can’t. If you heard something else, well, then maybe I can.” Agent Price was glad to finally be putting this on someone else’s desk. He didn’t need the sleepless nights. He had enough of those for other reasons.

Whether or not Serenity was actually Thomas Rothmer, it wasn’t right or legal to simply kill him. Agent Price still wasn’t certain he was Thomas Rothmer; he knew too much, and it was obvious he was hiding something.

At the same time, Agent Price was no longer certain Serenity was an alien impostor. He’d met the other teachers in the Tutorial; none of them behaved like Serenity. Serenity felt far more like a modern American than any of them, down to his use of slightly old memes and references to history.

He’d decided it didn’t matter. The weeks he’d spent traveling with Serenity told him that whoever he was, Serenity was willing to work to help humans. More than once, Agent Price had seen Serenity step between something dangerous and a human. It wasn’t always Rissa, either. It didn’t feel calculated; if anything, it felt like he was used to protecting others.

Agent Price might not like getting lumped in with the weak who needed protection, but he’d seen what Serenity could handle.

He’d already collected most of what he needed even before his time out of the country, but the only thing he’d done after getting back was to finish collecting the evidence.

Which was how he found himself in the Inspector General’s office of the Department of Homeland Security.

He set a paper copy of the file on the desk in front of himself. “What I’ve been able to find out is in there. There’s more to it than just trying to kill Serenity, but that’s the only thing I know for certain was illegal.”

“You’re actually serious.” The Assistant Inspector General reached over to the file and pulled it in front of herself, but didn’t open it. “You know that this may blow back on you, right? Whistleblower protections or not, bringing something like this to us won’t be forgotten.”

Agent Price nodded. “I know. That’s part of why it took me so long to come forward. But that level of disregard for …” he didn’t even know how to express his disgust. Trailing Serenity and trying to gather evidence on him was good police work, and completely reasonable when done against a suspected impostor.

Killing him wasn’t. It cheapened the profession and made Agent Price start to consider if maybe he was in the wrong line of work.

Of course, if people like him left, who would do the work? The people who wanted to kill their problems?

Lex Rothmer grinned as he closed the door to the safe deposit box area, then hurried over and slid the safe deposit box out of its slot. It wasn’t very large, just large enough for ordinary documents and a little jewelry, but it was exciting. He’d only opened the safe deposit box a few times since he moved his grandfather’s belongings into his own box, thinking he’d never use them.

They were fanciful; he’d only kept them because of the memories they brought. Well, that and the fact that they were written in a language Lex had never been able to identify, even though his grandfather had made sure to teach him enough to read the basics.

Lex spread the top one out on the desk. MAP TO THE WELL OF SOULS, it said. Yes, that was exactly what he was looking for. About half of his grandfather’s papers talked about the “WELL OF SOULS”, but none of them said exactly what it was.

Even though one of them was called a map, it really wasn’t. It was more of a set of directions. Lex folded the “map” away and set it in the stack of things he was taking with him.

The other half of his grandfather’s legacy was a mix of things. Most were written in that unknown language, but some were in English. The next piece of paper he saw that wasn’t labeled WELL OF SOULS was one of those English documents. Lex spread it out and took a good look.

Grandson,

Thank you for putting up with this old man. I know that you think I am senile or possibly crazy, but your long tolerance means a great deal to me.

I am leaving you what I have. It is not nearly what you should have as my Heir and the Heir to your Family, but it is all that is left. If you must blame anyone, blame me, for I traded what should have been your heritage to run and hide instead of fighting to keep it.

Know that you share a bloodline of power and of command, but also one that may put you in danger. Beware should any claiming to be my Family find you, for you are the true Heir, not the one who sits at their Head, and that is enough to have them wish to kill you.

I will not tell you more of it than that, not directly. Not only would you not believe me, but knowledge is power - power that can be turned against you.

Make your own mark, found your own Family. Do not depend on my past, for it is a broken thing, unable to bear its own weight and the sins of its past. You are already doing that with the sweet angel you are bringing home; however forbidden that love might be in my past, I hope that it works out for you. I believe in you and in your Bethany as well. You have my blessing for what little that is worth.

The papers I’m leaving for you are not for the you that you are today. Indeed, I almost hope that they are something you will never need or want. They are a treasure hunt, searching for the magic of my past. If you ever do follow it, you will need the tornado brooch; it is a key, though an odd one.

It will not be easy and the treasure is not unguarded. Beware.

I am a coward to leave this letter where I know you will find it instead of telling you myself, but so be it. It is not a surprise to me that I am a coward; I always have been. If I had been a brave fool, I would have fought and died.

Do better than I did with my life.

Your Grandfather,

Timothy Rothmer

Below the name, there was another scrawl. Lex thought it was in the same language his grandfather had taught him, but he’d never been able to translate it. He’d always assumed that it was simply his grandfather’s name in the other language, whatever it was.

Next to the name was a symbol Lex didn’t recognize. It was the only place he’d ever seen it; it didn’t appear on any of the other papers as far as he knew, but it wasn’t like he’d ever taken the time to go through them in detail.

That was a task he’d happily pursue when he got home.

Lex tucked the rest of his grandfather’s papers and the “tornado brooch” in his bag; everything else went back into the safety deposit box.

Coyote stepped into Dragon’s book-filled study again. This time, Dragon noticed him almost immediately.

“Back already? Wasn’t it just yesterday that you left?”

Coyote grinned. Dragon had never had a good sense of time, but this time Coyote had no intention of playing with it. “It’s been a few months.”

“A day, a few months, whatever! You know I don’t care. Why are you here? I was busy.” Dragon’s words were irritated, but the tone of voice Coyote heard wasn’t, and neither were the scents he smelled.

No, if Coyote had to place Dragon’s mood, it was happy. Something must have been going well for Dragon, and Coyote had a very good guess what it might be. “You’ve been watching your newest protege, haven’t you?”

Coyote headed towards Dragon’s voice and found him sitting - in human form, for once! - in one of the padded chairs Dragon liked when he wasn’t simply lying on a rug or some pillows in front of the fire.

Coyote had never asked why Dragon had a fireplace in his study, when the room was always exactly whatever temperature Dragon wanted it to be. There were some things that were simply not worth asking.

Coyote’s eyes were drawn to a distortion in the air in front of Dragon; the circular shimmer had a scene in the middle. The scene was paused, but it showed Serenity talking to a woman with red hair; Coyote wasn’t certain where the scene took place, but he knew he’d seen the woman before. A relative of Serenity’s fiancee, if he remembered correctly. Coyote made a mental note to look into her more; if Dragon was watching them talk, she had to be important.

“Yes. He’s doing exceptionally well. When I took him on, I had no idea he was from an unintegrated world. Much less that he was from Earth.” Dragon waved a hand and the image disappeared. “That’s not what I asked. Why are you here?”

Coyote indicated the spot where the image had been. “Exactly. Earth. I remember the past; I’m old enough, and so are you. There aren’t many of us left.” Coyote felt the grin leave his face; the situation was problematic enough that he didn’t feel like having fun right now. “But we’re not the only ones. Death is on Serenity’s side, so we can probably get him on ours. He’s never been a threat, but having him be a help instead of neutral would be good. Some of the others-”

“You assume I’m on your side,” Dragon interrupted Coyote. “I’m not certain I am. What are you really after, and I don’t mean the little bit you want to tell me to get me to cooperate. Serenity’s my best hope in millenia; I’m not going to risk that for one of your little games.”

Coyote huffed. He’d hoped this would be easier, that Dragon would agree simply because his plan was to help Serenity reach his goals. He’d never really expected it to work, but he’d hoped. “I remember the past. And I know that the only way to fix what we broke is to get at the root of it. We’ve patched it repeatedly, but we’ve never been able to go in and actually fix it.”

“Because no one can,” Dragon objected. “It evaporated.”

“It did,” Coyote agreed, “But look at this.”

Coyote concentrated and a pair of shimmers appeared in the air. Both showed a large open area lit with a dim reddish light and a crystal that floated in the middle of the open area. “I’ve added the light. There isn’t any there normally. The one on the left is from a year ago; the one on the right is from a week ago.”

The picture on the left showed the remnants of a shattered crystal; it pulsed dimly and slowly as they watched.

The picture on the right showed a crystal that was half again as large. The shattered portion hadn’t changed much, but the growth reached into the area and seemed to be trying to cover it. This crystal also pulsed, but the pulses were brighter. They weren’t any faster, but somehow they seemed more hopeful.

“That’s far too small. There’s no chance the kernel is still there. Is there?” Dragon seemed to be muttering to himself, so Coyote waited. It was always better when people talked themselves into helping him. “Maybe there’s a chance. Maybe.”

End of Arc 6