The River that Flows Eternal

     Whoa, what a creepy cave.

     Hey, mister, we’re sorry for bothering you.

     “I need to leave. Please, please, I need to leave.”

     Why was he thinking of this again? He didn’t want to. He had put it away, somewhere safe.

     Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.

     You can change. You can change. You can change…

     He had cast aside the past. He had made his choice. That was how it should have been. But the river was rushing on, and the music of the World carried him back to the beginning.

     ———

     “So how was your little talk with Erick?” asked Rikti.

     The morning was wearing on. Evett looked around at his dispirited companions, all gnawing on an an unpleasant breakfast. The memory of Jahbal’s sneer was still fresh in all their minds.

     Tylix shrugged. “For a legendary hero, there wasn’t much to him.” Though he said it with his usual coolness, his face had a grim cast.

     “Legendary hero?” Evett repeated. “Wait, you mean the story Rikti talked about before?”

     “Yup. To think that was the real guy… I wish I’d talked to him myself.” Rikti scratched his head. “Time sure has a way of changing things.” He trailed off, but no one had anything more to add. The atmosphere descended once again into gloomy silence.

     Evett reached into his bag for water. It seemed oddly cluttered, as if the space inside it was shrinking, and it made a hollow sound when he shook it. Surely his bag couldn’t be losing its enchantment already… or so he thought, but then he remembered all the illusions he’d waded through yesterday. There had been enough energy in the air to make him sick; it was no surprise his bag hadn’t been able to take it.

     Evett made a face as the thought of all the nausea came back to him. He still felt a tiny bit ill. For some reason the illusion magic had had a worse effect on him than Rikti and Tylix. He paused for a moment, thinking about the differences between past and future magic. Perhaps the two worlds weren’t meant to intertwine. No, not ‘perhaps’. He was living proof of it.

     Rikti spoke again in a lower voice. “Evett. What did you think of last night?”

     “Huh?” Evett forced himself to focus. “Why me?”

     “Uh, isn’t it obvious? You were the only one who could actually face him. Not even Erick could.”

     It hadn’t felt like it at the time. Then again, Evett could hardly remember what had actually happened. “Well… I don’t know him like you all do. But he was definitely strong. I did everything I could, but I doubt he ever saw me as anything more than annoying. To be honest, I have no idea what could stop him.”

     He expected Rikti to blow up at him, but instead the Korbat just stared at the ground. The vaguely disconsolate air that had hung about him ever since Tower Gaia looked more pronounced than ever. “You’re the strongest out of us three, so, uh, depending on what happens… what you decide, I mean…”

     Again he left the end unsaid. Finally Tylix cleared his throat. “He’s asking if you want to go on, now that we know Jahbal has nothing to do with your being here. If you bow out, we’ll probably have to give up on going after Jahbal—though, knowing Rikti, he’ll go on hacking away at monsters anyway. Am I wrong?”

     “Tylix!” Rikti sputtered. “You didn’t have to say it like that. But… yeah, that’s the gist.” He rubbed his neck, shooting furtive glances at Evett. It looked almost timid.

     Ah. That. Evett wished he had a choice in the matter. Where would he go if he turned away? What would he do? What would he become? There was no path for him, nothing to animate his limbs. He would only watch, hopeless and powerless, as Rikti and Tylix wandered on. Anything was preferable to that existence. Even now, as low as he was, he could at least reach out and touch them. He could see a little more of this beautiful, ill-fated world. He had something to wish for.

     “What are you so worried about?” he laughed in what he hoped was a normal tone of voice. “I wouldn’t just drop out. I’m not that heartless. Even if Jahbal doesn’t recognize me, I’m sure I’ll find something out if I keep tagging along.”

     “Glad to hear it,” said Rikti. Though he did his best to smile, it seemed all he could manage was a heavy sigh. “Now if only we knew where to go next—Korabric’s tip didn’t exactly pan out. I’d settle for just finding another monster lair.”

     “Why not Sunnytown?” said Tylix. “My home, and the home of the Guild of Scholars. It’s just south of the plains. With all the historical archives and magical supplies there, I’m sure you could find something useful.” He hesitated. “It’s also the nearest city to the Valley of Song—where the Two Rings and the Ghost City are. If you felt up to challenging Jahbal himself, you could go there.”

     Rikti paled, though he did his best to hide it. “We’ll… we’ll talk about that later. The Ghost City’s got nothing to do with it, anyway.” Evett wondered what that was about. “But Sunnytown sounds good. Evett needs a new orb-thingy, I could use some new gear, and Tylix might dig out some lore tidbits for us. Oh, and I hear it’s great this time of year.”

     “Good. Let’s get going. We probably have four days’ travel ahead of us, if not more,” said Tylix, downing a gulp of water. “I’ve got work of my own to do in the archives, by the way. I’m not doing this just for you.”

     “I know,” said Rikti. He bent over the leftovers and began packing them up. Something in his posture looked deflated. Tylix turned away, a little self-consciously.

     “Are you okay?” asked Evett quietly. “I know it’s a lot—Jahbal and everything—”

     “Who cares about Jahbal?” Rikti replied. “At least with him I have something to aim for. It’s everything else that’s slipping away.” He looked at his palms helplessly. “You… you should leave after all. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

     “I don’t either. Neopia doesn’t. We’re all stumbling blind, except maybe Tylix. All we can do is keep pushing.” Evett pasted on an encouraging smile.

     “Ha. Sounds like something I would say.” Rikti strapped on his pack and folded his arms, striking a pose. A bit of that irrepressible spirit was reviving in him. “Okay, here we go.”

     For a moment they stood, surveying the wreckage of the temple. Evett remembered the brilliant illusion with its tower, its statues, that ineffable grandeur. Gone now, as surely as the burning courtyard. Rosval in all his invincible majesty had been nothing but a fancy in the end. Evett wondered how many more times he would be faced with these sights.

     Beside him, Rikti’s face was scrunched up with some inscrutable emotion. He looked nothing like the self-important adventurer Evett had met all those days ago. And Tylix was already walking ahead, wrapping his cloak around him in the wind. Evett wondered what they had seen in the temple. He wasn’t part of this world; there was a depth to it he would never understand.

     Finally, tearing themselves from the ruin, they plodded away. Not far off they found a small creek winding south. Thin and muddy though the water was, it was a welcome addition to their canteens.

     “I didn’t know there were rivers here,” said Evett. “Thought it was too dry for that.”

     “Erick said things would get better here,” Tylix commented. His voice and gaze were distant. “Who knows?”

     They had water now, but as the time stretched on, their cares and fears seemed only to multiply. And through all of them, Evett’s mind returned again and again to his fading memories of home. The illusion magic had made the situation worse, no doubt, but it had been happening since the beginning. Only the bad things were left… it was like everything was conspiring to shut him away.

     On the third afternoon since the departure from the Temple of Roo, his bag finally broke down for good. The last of the knickknacks he’d stored in it tumbled out and landed in a heap on the grass. Grumbling, Evett crouched down to sift through the junk. He would have to leave most of it behind. Not that any of it had much value, even sentimental value, but—he still felt somehow that he had betrayed a little part of himself.

     “Poor bag,” sighed Rikti. “It was useful while it lasted.” He peered over Evett’s shoulder, admiring the strange objects from a time he’d never known. “Hey, Tylix, whaddya think of this book? Ice Cream Machine Game Guide. Looks neat, huh? So many colors.”

     “What’s ice cream? And how would you play a game with it?” Tylix squinted at the diagrams, which no doubt looked quite unfamiliar, before giving the other objects a curious once-over. Evett could practically see the gears turning. “Are these the sorts of things you do in the future? I was never curious before, but I have to admit it’s intriguing.”

     “It’s not that exciting of a place,” said Evett. “That’s why I liked it, you know.” He couldn’t bear to talk about it anymore. Shoving the important things back into his (now quite ordinary) bag, he set off. If he was going to leave everything behind, he wanted to do it all at once.

     “Wait up!” said Rikti. “Don’t get your trousers in a twist, alright? Can you at least tell us a little bit about your life? Something fun. I think we could all use a break right now. How about a story?”

     “I wouldn’t mind that,” Tylix chimed in. There was an odd shape sticking out of his pack. Evidently he’d nicked the Ice Cream Machine Game Guide for himself. For that matter, Rikti’s pockets had a rather suspicious weight to them too.

     Evett sighed. They really were kids. He couldn’t find it in him to be upset, despite himself. “A story, huh? Maybe next time.” Next time, sometime, whenever his memories came back. Whenever things went back to normal again.

     They went on south, wading through the endless sea of grass.

     ———

     “So what’s this Ghost City?” said Evett one night. “You both know something, don’t you?”

     Rikti made a face. He’d been enjoying his supper, or at least tolerating it, but this was something of an intrusion. “No one really knows that much. It’s just rumors.”

     “Come on. If we’re going that way, I’d better at least have a clue what I’m getting myself into.”

     “Uh, well, you know,” grunted Rikti. He gave Tylix a pleading look, but the Kacheek was pointedly ignoring him. Typical. “It’s southeast of here, in the Valley of Song. A fancy city on top of a lake, according to the stories. It used to be the capital of Neopia in the Old Times.”

     “A city on a lake…” Evett looked up, interested. “I saw a picture like that in Tower Gaia. Kal Panning, right?”

     Rikti winced. Out here in the middle of nowhere, the name sounded even more deadly than usual. “Could you be any louder? But yeah, that’s the name. At the end of the great wars, it was the last holdout against Jahbal. So Jahbal launched a surprise attack, and… I mean it when I say no one knows what happened. But Jahbal was vanquished there, and so were all the defenders. The city’s cursed now.”

     He stopped, having explained the history as quickly as he could. There was nothing more to say. It was unsettling enough just thinking about that place.

     “So that’s how Jahbal was defeated before?” said Evett. “Not in battle or whatever, but by some kind of weird plague.”

     Tylix nodded. “Why do you think he has the power to destroy Neopia? No one can stand up to him by normal means.”

     “Figures.” Evett crossed his arms. “But maybe if we figure out what beat him, we can do it again.”

     His suggestion was met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” said Rikti. “This is a curse we’re talking about, Evett. That’s… that’s not much of a strategy.”

     “I agree,” said Tylix in a more measured voice. “Well, even so, the final battle might be a clue. There are plenty of obscure records in the Guild’s archives. You could find something about it there.”

     “You could,” Rikti grumbled. He didn’t know where to go, what to do. He was relying on Evett for strength, but Evett was relying on him for direction. He wanted to protect Evett somehow—send him safely home, free to forget all this nonsense about curses and ghosts. After all, what did Evett care about any of it? Let him go back to his ordinary life, his peaceful future. It was what he deserved.

     Days passed as they trudged southward. Slowly the air changed. Then, finally, they spotted Sunnytown on the horizon. Rikti couldn’t help but feel relieved. He didn’t mind traveling, but something about the plains seemed to lend itself to endless worrying. That kind of thing just wasn’t his forte, no matter what he’d been through.

     Walking alongside the creek, they came to its mouth at the banks of a wide, still river: the famed canal dug three hundred years ago to bisect Neopia at its narrowest point. It was the greatest marvel of Neopia since the Old Times. Even Rikti had heard of it, mostly from his brother’s grousing. Depending on the schedule dictated by Sunnytown’s council and the Guild of Scholars’ mages, the water flowed either northeast to the Summer Sea or southwest to the great ocean. Today it seemed to be the latter, and a series of boats were making their unhurried way down to the city and thence to the coast.

     The grass was greener here, and the wind fresher. The sight of real Neopets was a relief. Rikti and his friends reached the long, low wall of Sunnytown by late afternoon. There was a massive canal gate for the ships, accompanied by a smaller and dingier wicket gate for foot traffic. A long line of wagon-loaded merchants stretched out before it, Rikti noted with dismay. “They never questioned visitors before,” said Tylix. “I suppose security is tighter these days.”

     After half an hour, they finally made it to the gatehouse. Standing by it was a stocky Draik in the red-and-silver colors of the city. “And what’s your business here?” he said, looking them up and down. His eyes rested with some displeasure on their weather-beaten clothes and weapons. “If you’re ruffians, you’d best leave now.”

     “We’re no ruffians,” Rikti said hurriedly, trying to push his scabbard into the folds of his cloak. “Look, we’re—uh—traveling scholars!”

     “What?” said the guard.

     “What?” said Evett and Tylix.

     Rummaging in his pack, Rikti proudly pulled out the lengthy contract that a certain excitable Bruce had drawn up days earlier. “See? Says it right here. This fine Lupe and I are conducting a joint project on, um… the soil quality of the Wide Plains. Tylix here is our temporary apprentice on loan from the famed Denethrir himself. Aren’t you, Tylix?” he added loudly, elbowing the Kacheek.

     “Yes!” Tylix chirped, after he had recovered from the sharp pain in his side. “Master, uh... Masters Rikti and Evett have taught me a lot about the soil! It’s really quite fascinating...”

     “Soil, huh? I can see why old Denethrir took an interest, he’s always been about that weird stuff.” The guard scanned the parchment with obvious suspicion. “But aren’t you a mite young to be taking apprentices?”

     “Well, we are the only soil experts in all of Neopia,” said Evett innocently.

     “Huh.” The guard folded up the contract and returned it to Rikti with a cough. “Everything looks to be in order, so go on in, I guess. Enjoy your stay.” He retreated into the gatehouse, muttering about crackpot scholars.

     Once he was out of earshot, Tylix groaned. “Soil? Really, Rikti?”

     “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Rikti returned smugly. “And that’s Master Rikti to you!”

     Just then, the guard stuck his head out again. They all stood up straight. “Ahem. I just remembered. Someone the other day was asking about a Lupe matching your description,” said the guard. “Seems he was a scholar too, or looked like one at any rate. Think he said he was staying near the Rosemary Pavilion.”

     Rikti wondered what that was about. Evett frowned, looking equally lost. But the guard had no more details to offer. He waved them through, and they passed under the stone arch into a lively crowd. They were in Sunnytown now, the proud port city of the south. It sat at the continent’s narrowest point, and dealt in trade both across the Summer Sea and with other lands beyond the great ocean. The merchants and scholars here, even in this darkening age, were fabulously wealthy. Rikti was accustomed to hearing northerners gripe about it, at any rate. Seeing the city now, he couldn’t bring himself to complain.

     The city sprawled out haphazardly before them on either side of the canal. The terrain was punishingly steep, and even in autumn the heat was impressive. Houses and shops popped up on every side, each one stuffed to the gills with bright colors and shouting passersby. Flowers and ribbons hung from the windowsills. The lonely wilderness of the Wide Plains seemed an eternity removed from this place; Neopia City with its narrow streets and stark white walls was no less distant. Tylix was smiling, and Evett whistled as they made their way down the busy boulevards. They looked livelier than Rikti had seen them all week. Maybe Sunnytown was the closest thing Neopia had to the paradise of the future.

     “So where is this pavilion?” said Evett, as they paused to gather their bearings. “It’s not far, is it? I feel like I could spend a month here.”

     “It’s in the mages’ district. The best part of the city, by the way.” Tylix craned his head and finally pointed to the top of a large, ornate marble building on a hill overlooking the canal. “There’s the Guild of Scholars over there, see? The Rosemary Pavilion is nearby.”

     They hurried through the marketplaces and plazas. Eventually the hubbub began to die down to a somewhat more well-heeled murmur. This, Rikti gathered, was the mages’ district: whispering trees, grand old houses, schools for apprentices, and storerooms piled high with artifacts of ancient renown. The whole air buzzed with magic. Scholars and mages milled about in fine robes, talking quietly or sipping drinks (‘tea’, Tylix called it—more fancy imported stuff, no doubt). Rikti realized belatedly that he hadn’t bathed in weeks.

     Tylix, though, looked perfectly at ease. He made his way confidently through the streets, taking the others at last to a wide pavilion partway up the hill. It was white and elaborately decorated, much like the Guild itself. The lawn around it was adorned with peonies and rosemary shrubs dotted with tiny pink flowers.

     As the trio walked over the grass and onto the pavilion itself, they found that it had a commanding view of the sprawling city. Squinting out westward into the light, Rikti could see the tree-lined streets, the bustling townsfolk, and the tall watchtowers overlooking them. The low sandy-colored wall meandered up and down the slopes. Boats sailed unhurriedly over the canal. And at its end, blocked by the buildings and the haze of the atmosphere, there was a faint shimmer on the horizon that might have been the sea.

     The breeze was nice up here. Rikti wasn’t usually given to peace and quiet, but now he wished he had the time to sit and enjoy the sights. But of course it was not to be. Slow footsteps echoed on the stone behind. As Rikti and the others turned, they saw an aged Kyrii coming up to them. The scholar who had been searching for them was none other than Eleus Batrin.

     “Eleus?” gasped Rikti. “What’re you doing here?”

     Tylix coughed to cover his evident surprise. “Good afternoon,” he said more politely. “Er, how long have you been in Sunnytown? I didn’t know you traveled anymore. Master Denethrir always said you weren’t fond of the Guild—”

     “Spare me the chatter,” Eleus cut in. His blue-eyed stare was stoic, like a statue’s. “I came here a few days ago, knowing you were likely on your way. I want to hear how your quest has proceeded. After all, it was I who set you on this road at the beginning.”

     “You came all the way here for that?” asked Rikti, confused. “Well, sure, I guess. It’s kind of a long story. Um… we ran into Jahbal.”

     Hurriedly he and Evett summarized their exploits since leaving Neopia City. Tylix interjected every now and then, although he looked uncomfortable at being swept up in this grand tale of adventure. Laid out in full, it sounded crazy to Rikti’s own ears. Had all this really happened? To him? It beggared belief.

     When the story was done, Eleus leaned against the balustrade and contemplated it. His silhouette looked incongruously regal in the shade of the fragrant pavilion. “So this is what Jahbal has become,” he murmured at last. “To think this era has taken such a turn… The hour is at hand.”

     “Is that all you have to say?” Evett said with some indignation. “You’re the reason we set off on this journey to begin with. Aren’t you the least bit concerned?”

     Tylix shushed him nervously, but Eleus merely shrugged his shoulders. “Of course I am. And if you must know, I’m pleased with you too. I laid a burden on you that you did not deserve, and the three of you have performed admirably in spite of it.”

     “Then—“

     “This is my fault. Utterly. But I have no time to dwell on that.” Eleus’ sharp voice grew sharper. “Tell me. Do you mean to go east now?”

     Rikti fidgeted in his seat. He’d thought before that he recognized Eleus’ expression, but now it was clearly far worse than anything he’d ever seen before. It wasn’t an angry look, exactly. What Rikti saw was cold, meticulous, and yet restless with foreboding. It mirrored his own fears.

     “We don’t have a choice,” said Rikti reluctantly. “All Evett and I can do is try to find out how Jahbal was defeated in the past, and use that to beat him. E-even if that means going to the Ghost City. It’s not far from the Two Rings, in any case.” He flushed and looked down. Admitting weakness still wasn’t his strong suit. “You know how outclassed we are.”

     Silence. “I doubt Kal Panning has the answers you seek,” said Eleus. “Your response tells me all I need to know. You are not strong enough yet.”

     He said this so decisively that Rikti thought they might all evaporate away on the spot. “What do you mean?” asked Evett in a small voice.

     “The Ghost City, as you call it, is more than a mere waypoint in your travels—it is the birthplace and deathbed of Neopia’s fate. The curse that lies over it is stronger than the shadow of the Two Rings themselves. Do you really think you can press through the darkness of the First Forest and look upon that terrible sight?” He paused to look at them, confirming the truth from their faces, before continuing. “Let me be clear. You will need bodily strength to make it to Kal Panning. But what you find there will require a different sort of power. Aimless as you are now, you cannot hope to set foot in the Valley of Song and leave unscathed.”

     Rikti didn’t know what Eleus meant by that, and he was quite sure he never wanted to find out. Even Tylix looked uneasy. Only Evett spoke. “Look, I still don’t know much about Kal Panning,” he said. “But we have to get there. We have to do whatever it takes to bring Jahbal down again.”

     “‘Whatever it takes,’ you say? I wonder if you have any idea what you speak of.” Eleus folded his arms. “It is no longer my place to direct the affairs of others. I will only offer you this little advice: do not go east until you are ready. Against Jahbal—against the truths of the World—you must not have even a single weakness. In these days of disaster, uncertainty is a luxury none of us can afford.”

     He stared at Evett, who looked away uneasily. “It doesn’t matter,” Evett said. “The way things are now, we won’t accomplish anything no matter what we do. What’s the point?”

     “The point, you ask?” Eleus’ eyes softened almost imperceptibly. “That is something you must discover for yourself. And there, I think, Kal Panning will help you.”

     He rose to his feet, heedless of his listeners’ bewilderment. It was plain that, one way or another, the conversation was over. “Well, that’s all I have to say. I may keep watch over you, but do not look for me. Good luck.”

     Sharing a dubious glance, Evett and Tylix turned and began to head back to the lawn. But Rikti hung back a little longer, feeling he owed it to a family friend.

     “Thank you,” he said. “For, uh, coming all this way. And warning us. I didn’t think I would see you again until the adventure was finished.”

     Eleus gave him another deliberating look, as if he was sizing him up. “You don’t hold yourself like an ordinary youth.”

     “Um…” Did he? He’d gotten a bit wiser, certainly. Then he thought of Mokti and shied away. “Maybe, but it’s like you said earlier. I—we—still have to get stronger.”

     Neither of them spoke for a moment. Rikti prepared for the usual grandfatherly pat on the shoulder, but there was none. Finally he cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. “This is your first time in Sunnytown, right? You should do some sightseeing.”

     “I did come here once long ago, but it looked quite different then. The Sunnytown of today has a refreshing air about it. If I had time to take it in, I would.” Eleus looked up at the leaves with fondness as he and Rikti walked slowly back to the street. “I fear I’ve forgotten much of my wide-eyed youth. But I still remember what I love about Neopia. What drives me onward.”

     Rikti turned, more confused than ever. “And what’s that?”

     But Eleus was already walking away. He passed Evett and Tylix silently and was gone into the crowd.

     The staid hubbub of the mages’ district descended on Rikti as he returned to the mundane noise of the street. The sun was beginning to go down now, but it was still distractingly bright. For a second he was reminded of the door to the smithy in that quiet avenue of Neopia City. But everything was different now—Eleus himself not least. There was something hard in his demeanor; something that knew the coming threat and loathed it beyond all else. The genial old loremaster was nowhere to be seen.

     “So, Evett, should we turn in for the night?” sighed Rikti. “We’d better get some rest, what with all the training we’ll be doing. There are probably some good inns back by the merchants’ district.”

     “No need for that.” Tylix pointed to a large, rickety-looking building just up the hill. “I’ll put you up at my quarters in the apprentices’ lodge of the Guild of Scholars. You won’t have to pay, and we’ll be a stone’s throw away from the archives. It’s perfect, if you ask me.”

     “But you’re the only one going to the archives. Right?!” Rikti cried. But he and Evett had to admit that Tylix’s offer was convenient. They headed up to the lodge.

     Its interior was no less shabby, but there was a certain homely cheer to the wooden furnishings and old carpets. It was a nicer place than any apprentice housing up north, at least. As Tylix filled out the paperwork for his guests, Rikti wandered off to the dining hall and helped himself to some delectable gruel.

     “Hello! Are you new?” said a chubby Xweetok, sliding into the seat next to him. “Don’t think I’ve seen your face around here. Who’re you apprenticed to?”

     “Oh, I’m just visiting,” said Rikti. “Um… on business. My name’s Rikti.”

     A gap-toothed Acara came up to them and clapped the Xweetok on the shoulder. “Come on, Leir. You really think this fellow with a sword strapped to his back is a scholar’s apprentice? Where’s that big brain of yours?” Turning, she shook Rikti’s hand heartily. “I’m Rys Virn, by the way. Been studying here for four years now. Nice to meet you.”

     Three more apprentices, apparently friends of Rys and Leir’s, sat down at the table and introduced themselves in turn. There was Anise, a bespectacled Aisha with a serious face; Tarwin, a joker of a Shoyru not unlike Rys herself; and Kuent, a freckled Meerca. They all looked quite interested in Rikti, and eagerly examined his sword.

     “Northern make,” observed Anise. “Interesting. So I take it you’re an adventurer, then. Or maybe a mercenary. What brings you to the Guild of Scholars?”

     “A mercenary?” Rikti sputtered. Surely he didn’t look that grimy. “No, uh, I’m here to do research. I’m staying here with Tylix, if you know him—“

     “Tylix?!” the group chorused.

     “Are you serious?” said Kuent, awed. “Not to be mean, but I’ve literally never heard him say a full sentence at supper. Who could’ve guessed he was up to all this intrigue?”

     “Guess we misjudged him.” Tarwin imitated a dramatic sob. “Even geniuses like us get it wrong sometimes…”

     “Oh, can it!” They erupted into laughter.

     Rys leaned over conspiratorially. “So what’s Tylix really like? On the road, I mean. Does he talk?”

     “He does. There’s more to him than meets the eye, I think.” Rikti scratched his head, not sure what to say. He imagined Tylix spending night after lonely night here, keeping his dreams and his secret journal locked away. It didn’t feel right. Tylix was too smart, too inquisitive, too… nice to be a loner in this cozy place, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

     “Excuse me,” said Tylix mildly from behind them. “Could you make some room at the table?”

     “There you are!” shouted Tarwin. “Come on, what’ve you been up to with Denethrir? Tell us!”

     With a noncommittal grunt, Tylix sat down in the corner and began to eat in silence. Evett sat by him, only to be immediately pounced on by the five apprentices for details. He looked pleased about it, though—practically nostalgic. Rikti seized the opportunity to down his gruel.

     The boisterous evening went on. Once everyone had finished eating, they wandered over to the sitting room and gathered around the fire. Evett and Rikti shared excerpts of their journey for the second time that day (highly edited now), to their listeners’ delight. Tylix joined in every now and then, albeit reluctantly. The rest of the time, Rikti could see him watching the conversation out of the corners of his eyes. He even smiled once or twice.

     “…and wouldn’t you believe it, he let us in!” Rikti finished.

     “Soil experts?” laughed Tarwin. “The guard actually believed that? Then again, I guess I’ve seen crazier things in the Guild.”

     “You’ve never been in there before, right?” said Rys excitedly. “You’ll be amazed. It’s so clean and elegant—nothing like that fusty old Institute. Have you ever heard its nickname ‘the little moon’?”

     Evett tilted his head in confusion. “No, what’s that about?”

     “Just like the moon reflects sunlight, the Guild of Scholars reflects Neopia’s knowledge,” she explained. “We gather it up, past and present and future, and display it for the world to see. That’s what’s so amazing about our job—well, aside from the real highlight, which is copying notes all day.” The others chuckled at that.

     “I see.” Rikti shot a look at Tylix, who was staring pensively into the fire. “That makes sense. Me, I’ve always been a fighter at heart, so…”

     “We all have our paths in life,” said Anise in a kind voice. “Of course we scholars like to poke fun, but it is thanks to Neopians like you that we can do our work in the first place.”

     Leir nodded. “Without the watchtowers and underground shelters, Sunnytown wouldn’t be nearly as safe as it is. And we still get attacked every winter.”

     You’re not scared? Rikti almost asked. But it was obvious already from their faces. They had a different sort of courage—not the sort that came with force of arms.

     “Shut up, Leir! They’re not gonna move here unless you keep quiet!” Tarwin stage-whispered.

     At this, even Tylix couldn’t help but laugh. “I promise not to show them the sewers,” he said. “Although, being northerners, they’re definitely used to worse.” More chuckles, followed by a round of jibes at the ‘armpit of the continent’, as the north was apparently known down here. Rikti did everything in his power to clamp down on the choicer retorts he’d heard.

     “Finally the real Tylix comes out!” Rys elbowed him playfully. “It’s a shame you never talked to us before. We always wanted to get to know you better.”

     Tylix shifted uncomfortably. “I wish you hadn’t, but—“

     Rys, not hearing him, turned back to Evett and Rikti. “But really, we hope you two have a good stay. Make sure Tylix gets some more sun. Hear that, Tylix? If you turn into a shut-in again after all this excitement, we’ll never forgive you! Oh, and just ask me if you ever need some information on shock magic.”

     “Or creatures of the plains.”

     “Or sluice mechanisms.”

     “Or the history of trade relations with—”

     “Go to bed!” yelled the lodge-keeper.

     Amid a chorus of harrumphs and good-natured shouting matches, Rikti and his friends bade the others good night and went up to Tylix’s room. It was a small place with a low ceiling and a rather interesting smell, but no one complained. Evett opened the little window and peered out at the canal. The streets were quiet now, and the lanterns swaying in the breeze looked almost like stars. He breathed in and out slowly. A sad aura had been surrounding him ever since the events on the Wide Plains, but looking at him now, Rikti thought he seemed a little calmer.

     “That was fun,” he said. “Your friends sure are lively, Tylix.”

     “They’re not my friends,” Tylix replied. “I don’t even remember their names most of the time.”

     “But you like them, don’t you?”

     “I don’t like anyone, really.” With that, Tylix determinedly busied himself dusting the room. Rikti hadn’t thought it was possible to tell such a bald-faced lie in this day and age.

     Once the blankets were all laid out, Tylix took the bed (though he did his best to give it up) and the others slept on the floor. Rikti didn’t mind. He hadn’t had a bed of his own in years, anyway. As he fell asleep, he wondered dimly what terrible dream Tylix would be having tonight. And he wondered, too, what waited for them in the days to come. Ghosts? Jahbal? Some other horror Eleus could only hint at? Though the night in Sunnytown was peaceful, it was no reprieve from the end of the world.

     ———

     Rikti cracked open an eye. It was still early; the sun was barely up. Evett and (surprisingly) Tylix were still asleep. Someone was knocking urgently at the door.

     “Ugh. At this hour?” With a yawn, Rikti roused himself and opened it. “Hello?”

     He half-expected to see Eleus Batrin wagging his withered finger, but instead it was the lodge-keeper. “You’re Rikti, right?” he asked. “There’s a traveler here to see you. A quite—“ he gave a loud yawn himself “—insistent one, for that matter.”

     Rikti sighed. He had a bad feeling about this. Shrugging on his jacket, he crept down the stairs to the lobby. A short Korbat wrapped in an unseasonably heavy cloak stood there, his arms folded. It was Mokti.

     To Rikti’s utter lack of surprise, his brother was not in the best of spirits. His red hair was sticking out in every direction, and his usually neat tunic was badly disheveled. From his scowl and the bags under his eyes, it was apparent that he hadn’t been sleeping.

     For a second there was silence. Mokti looked Rikti up and down, apparently unimpressed. Rikti could feel himself withering under his brother’s gaze. Just like always. “Okay, what do you want?” he said finally. “Don’t tell me you’ve been following me around.”

     “I just got here this morning, for your information,” snapped Mokti. “Some Lenny scholar came up to me at the port in Neopia City with a message. I couldn’t believe the things she said. According to her you’d been running all around the jungle—and not only that, you were planning a cross-country trip south!”

     Thanks a lot, Margoreth, Rikti groaned to himself.

     “So I came here as soon as I could, of course,” Mokti went on. “It’s my duty as your caretaker. Where else should I have gone?”

     “I dunno,” Rikti mumbled. “But if you’re here to yell at me again—”

     “I’m not!” said Mokti. “Do I look mad to you?”

     “…Yes?”

     Mokti hesitated for a long moment. Then, in an awkward motion, he put his hand on Rikti’s shoulder. It hovered there uncertainly. “This has gone on long enough. Can’t you come back with me already? I’ll—I’ll let you go out and fight monsters up north if you want. You’ll still be able to do some good. But I’ll be there to keep an eye on you.”

     Rikti struggled not to laugh. “You really don’t understand me at all, do you?”

     “I—“ Mokti took a calming breath. “I’m just doing what I can. You know I have to. Come on, please.”

     Rikti looked away. He’d never heard Mokti talk like this before. Suddenly he saw the worn-down desperation in his brother’s face, barely concealed by dignity. He remembered Tylix’s vision of the flames rising in Swampedge City; and more distantly, he remembered himself and his brother running through those burning streets. All those years of running. He hadn’t understood then what it meant to fight—the strength it would take. If only he could go back to being that brash, ignorant kid hacking his way through Xantan’s cave.

     The moment passed. Rikti wanted to yell, but he couldn’t find the rage. Maybe this was the one Neopian he would never be able to talk to. Shaking his head, he wrested himself from his brother’s grasp and fled up the stairs. He looked back once, but Mokti had made no move to follow him; he was already trudging away, staring at the floor.

     More shaken then he would have liked to admit, Rikti came back to Tylix’s room. Inside he found its other occupants already awake, to his dismay. “Busy morning, huh,” said Evett sympathetically. “I didn’t think your brother would find you all the way here.”

     “Oh… yeah, it’s annoying,” Rikti replied in as normal a voice as he could muster. “No wonder he and Eleus get along so well.”

     “What did he want from you?” asked Tylix politely. “I never knew you had, er, family troubles.”

     “Just the usual. He scolds me for being reckless, I point out he doesn’t have a clue what goes on outside his stupid wagonload of trinkets.” Rikti waved his hand, eager to dismiss the topic altogether. “But forget that. What’s the plan today?”

     Tylix shot him a last concerned look before speaking. “…Well, I was thinking of showing you some of the tools and weapons you can buy here in the mages’ district. Evett could use a new gem, I think. Afterwards, we can make for the archives. There’s bound to be something there you can use.”

     “Sounds good,” said Evett. They gathered their belongings and left the lodge. Rikti looked around furtively, but there was no sign of Mokti anywhere as they stepped out into the street. It was a quiet morning. A few rolling carts and bands of apprentices rushing around foretold the start of another busy Sunnytown day.

     “There’s a place that sells gems two blocks this way,” said Tylix. “We can start there.”

     “Nice,” said Evett. “How about we get one for you too? I’ll cover the bill.”

     “That’s too much!” Tylix protested as Evett and Rikti pushed him down the street. They passed by a row of magical storerooms buzzing with magic before coming to their destination, an unobstrusive little store on the corner. Gali Yoj’s Refractors and Staves, read the sign. Evett pushed aside a curtain of overgrown vines and ushered the group within. Immediately Rikti was blinded by the glitter of a thousand gems. They were everywhere—on the windowsill, the shelves, the floorboards, every available nook and cranny. Each one of them caught the light like a miniature sun.

     An elderly Pteri hobbled out from the back room. “Hello, hello! I do apologize for the mess. How can I help you lads today?”

     “We’re looking for some gems,” said Evett. “Fire for me, and ice for the Kacheek here.“

     “New apprentices, I gather? Don’t worry, I price for all walks of life.” She dug around in a drawer and retrieved two small translucent spheres about half an inch in diameter—bigger than the one Evett had now, but not by much. “These are well-suited to low-level magic. Five rooks apiece.”

     Tylix winced visibly. But Evett leaned over. “Hey Rikti, are rooks the silver ones?”

     “Yeah. But what—” As Rikti watched, Evett reached into his bag and pulled out a fistful of gold coins. ‘Neopoints’, Rikti recalled. Evett had used plenty of them back in Neopia City, but somehow there was still… a lot left. Tylix choked audibly.

     “What can we get for this much?” Evett asked with a small grin. “It’s not local money, but the gold plating’s real.”

     Gali grabbed one of the coins, doused it in magic, and bit it a few times before she was convinced. “All right,” she said finally. “I won’t ask where you got those. Come downstairs with me.”

     She unlocked a door behind her and gestured to the trio. They followed her down a narrow set of steps into a large vault with thick metal walls. Rikti surmised that it was one of the underground shelters, only… spruced up a bit. Here Gali lit a few candles in the sconces lining the walls, illuminating the darkness. Rikti gasped. There were even more gems here, crammed into cabinets and boxes. The overflowing riches stretched up to the ceiling. And the gems here were rich indeed—enormous, colorful, and polished to an elegant shine, they made the artifacts upstairs look like toys. Rikti stepped on a few and blanched at the thought of how much they probably cost. Only a few scrawled labels provided any hint of a method to the madness.

     Gali brought out another pair of orbs. They were two inches long and sparkled brilliantly even in the dim candlelight. “If it’s precision you want, you’ll find no better refractors. Go on, try them. The walls here are reinforced with spells.”

     Tylix gaped at the glittering jewels. Screwing his eyes shut, he took the white one gingerly in his paw. Rikti took several healthy steps backward as the buzzing sensation of magic filled the room. He expected to see a misshapen crystal like what he had witnessed back at Tower Gaia, but to his amazement a perfectly formed mass of spikes, like an overgrown white bur, sprouted from the orb. It hung in midair for a second before dropping into Tylix’s palm.

     “Wow,” Tylix said meekly. “I’ve never had this much control before.”

     Evett, meanwhile, affixed the red orb to the tip of his staff. It barely fit. Then he grabbed the staff with both paws and conjured up a fireball. It, too, had a more regular shape than what Rikti was used to. But then it got bigger. And bigger. “Stop!” Tylix shouted. But Evett was doing all he could just to hold on to the convulsing staff. The flame swung about wildly. Rikti dove for cover. Finally, cursing, Gali cast a shield of life magic that smothered the flames and hit the staff with just enough force to knock it to the ground. Evett landed on his rear, breathing hard.

     “Uh… I wasn’t expecting that,” he said lamely, staring at the burn streak coating the floor. “Sorry.”

     “Neither was I!” sputtered Rikti. “The gem Eleus gave you must have been holding you back.”

     Shaking her head, Gali relit the candles around the room. “If it were just a poor-quality gem, you would have sensed its limits before. Clearly that isn’t the case here. You’re simply more powerful than you think, and this gem allowed you to channel that power subconsciously.”

     Just how deep were Evett’s reserves? Rikti shook his head. Judging by Tylix’s expression, he was just as shocked. What was going on?

     “I don’t think the orb can take this much,” Evett said. “If I’d let it go, it might have exploded.”

     “Yes. It’s evident to me that a precision-oriented weapon is not what you need,” she said. “Here. This one can take as much magic as you give it. And it has a lifetime warranty, may I add.”

     She gave Evett another, even larger red orb. Much more cautiously this time, Evett fired up the staff again. The others stood well away. As Evett focused, a fireball just as large and ferocious as the last one leaped into existence. Rikti could practically feel his face searing as he looked at it. But it held stable. Evett inhaled and exhaled slowly before extinguishing it.

     “I think that was better,” Rikti said, relieved. “Are you satisfied with it?”

     Evett nodded. “It feels a lot nicer than the one I was using before—no offense to Eleus. What about yours, Tylix?”

     “Er, no complaints here,” Tylix said. “But are you sure—“

     “Yup. We’ll take them.” He counted out the coins (with a few extra to cover the damage) and gave them to Gali, who was practically salivating. “Thank you.”

     “Do come again,” she answered with a large wink. “I could always stand to line my pockets some more.”

     Soon they were standing on the street again. The day was shaping up to be an especially bright and warm one. Tylix turned his orb over in his paws. Gali had put it on a chain for him, and it looked conspicuously glitzy in the sunlight. “Thank you, Evett,” he said, looking more embarrassed than ever. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

     “Why? ‘Cause I can, and you deserve it,” said Evett. “Even if you’re not coming east with us, you’ve got a long road of your own to follow. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

     Tylix blushed and stared at the floor. Rikti, meanwhile, jabbed Evett in the ribs. “You know, you still haven’t explained how exactly you got all this gold. No matter how fancy-schmancy your future is, rare metals don’t just pop out of thin air.”

     “I dunno who makes it, but I picked it up from odd jobs. Not exactly the height of luxury.” Evett laughed, but the sound was oddly melancholic to Rikti’s ears. “I’ve got more, so let’s see if we can get some non-magical stuff too. Personally, my tunic is really starting to smell.”

     ———

     They left the mages’ district and spent a few more hours shopping. There was plenty for Evett to spend his riches on: it was a busy day, and shopkeepers were crammed into the street bazaars even more tightly than they had been the day before. Tunics, winter cloaks, and waybread for the road were soon piled up in Tylix’s arms. He didn’t dare ask how much they had cost.

     After dropping off their new possessions at the lodge (to the incredulity of the other apprentices, whose finances matched Tylix’s exactly) they turned toward the Guild. It was just past noon now, and the marble steps were bustling with activity. Evett craned his neck to get a full view of the gleaming facade. “I can’t even see the top. How many Neopets are in here now, you think?”

     Tylix shrugged. “Quite a few, I’m sure. It’s the little moon and all.”

     At the top of the steps was a wide oaken door. Tylix showed his papers to the guard, introduced his two ‘guests’, and was promptly let in. Inside, behind a majestic row of pillars, was an ornate foyer full of scholars going about their daily business. The flat marble ceiling was richly carved with images of flowers and curving lines, and many lights illuminated its crevices. Paintings and shelves lined the walls, each overlooking one of a vast warren of corridors. Some heated debate on the particulars of mind-reading floated down from an upper floor. The echoes of it, and of the pitter-pattering footsteps, was like a rushing tide. All in all, it was wonderful—a familiar home of sorts, both comfortable and grand. It was the only true home he’d ever had. Tylix felt his heart lifting just from the sight.

     “Hmm,” he said. “The largest archives are in the north wing. Only full scholars are let in, though, so we might have to settle for the second level…”

     “Don’t worry about that!” Rikti cut in, suddenly brightening. “Your local soil experts are happy to help.”

     Tylix opened his mouth and shut it again.

     As it turned out, Denethrir’s hallowed contract and a little bluffing (“This apprentice is vital to our soil compendium. You hear me? Vital!”) were enough to get all of them into the archives. Though this room was smaller and drabber than the cavernous space that had been Tower Gaia’s library, it was no less crammed with knowledge. Tylix couldn’t resist a tiny squeal of excitement.

     “All right,” he said, clapping his hands. “You two, do what you like. There’s bound to be a book here that’ll help you on your journey. But don’t expect any help from me.”

     The trio went their separate ways. The archives were quiet, with only a few other scholars milling about; Tylix soon settled peacefully in a corner with a pile of books. He really had meant it when he’d said he wouldn’t help, but… when it came down to it, he couldn’t resist a little digging into the history of the Ghost City. After all, it was there that the Old Times had met their end. Now that he had this precious chance to access records no other apprentice could touch, he’d be a fool to pass it up.

     Even in these archives, though, memories of the dark days were difficult to come by. Before the battle, there was plenty to read—Kal Panning had been the capital, after all, and a marvelous island-city that awed visitors near and far. But sources afterwards were silent. The name of the city had become fear itself, and that fear lived on even now.

     Hours passed. Tylix went through a long biography of the Circle of Twelve, hoping to find a few more clues. There was Xantan the Foul; Haletha, renowned for her mastery of the bow; Faleinn, the great philosopher and shape-changer; Rosval, maker of swords and shields; and so on. Jahbal was at the end, overshadowing the rest even here.

     But all the information here was common knowledge, Tylix thought in frustration. Why wasn’t there anything about the final battle? And come to think of it, shouldn’t one of the Twelve have been leading Kal Panning against Jahbal? Rosval had been its longtime chieftain, but the book said he had fallen just a month before the last assault. Someone else must have taken charge. But who? That was another odd omission.

     Blowing out a breath, he changed tack and opened up a chronicle of every major battle against the monsters for the three centuries following the end of the Old Times. It was not in chronological order, and the text, written in some archaic dialect, was far too small to read comfortably. Such were the trials of being a scholar.

     The attacks were all of a similar nature. The monsters were disorganized bands, never a full army. They struck quickly and with devastating force—yet they hardly ever went as far as destroying a settlement, even the smallest village. Either the Neopets beat them back, or they retreated of their own accord after their rampage. Tylix remembered what Jahbal had said. It all made sense now. The monsters had never been after prey or wanton destruction; they cared only for the energy that could bring their master back to life.

     The book made no mention of the origin of the monsters. There was a brief aside about the abandonment of the Institute after it had been overrun with pygmies, but nothing more. With the great wars upending the continent at that time, it seemed no one had bothered to look into Korabric. Or rather, Rollay. All the destruction—the wars, the chaos, everything—had started with him. Tylix remembered his dreams, and swallowed a sense of great unease.

     He turned the pages quickly, trying to put the thought out of his head, when suddenly he found what he had been looking for. There it was, just another cramped paragraph in an overly-cramped book: an account, however brief, of Kal Panning’s doom.

     Final year of the ghastly war. Kal Panning stood alone without succor. A leader it sought, invested with such force as might rebuild the walls and overcome the enemy. And unto the isle came a great sorcerer, whose hand spake with time, and whose name we know not.

     Tylix’s breath caught in his throat. Hurriedly he read on. For thirty days and nights the city was defended. But a curse of strange shape fell upon the rebels. They faded and vanished thence from the earth; and became shades which all fear. The great sorcerer was vanquished. And Jahbal did prevail over Kal Panning, and ravage it utterly. Yet by fortune’s whim he too was laid low, and sealed in the Two Rings, and the horde which followed him hath scattered to all corners of the land. There ended the war. And in our time one might come to the ruins of the fair city and still behold its twisted wreck. Such is a Dissonance, as decreed the scholars of old.

     Tylix exhaled and shut the book. It was too little to go on—too little. There was so much more he wanted to know. What was the curse? Who was the sorcerer? And what was a dissonance, anyway? The word sounded familiar, but not enough for recognition. Rubbing his chin, he sat back in his chair. His curiosity was well and truly piqued now.

     Then his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Rikti, who plopped down next to him with an armful of scrolls. Tylix hadn’t the heart to tell him that none of them were in any way relevant, and half weren’t even in the right language. “Hello,” he said.

     “It’s almost sundown. What’ve you been you up to?” asked Rikti.

     “I’ve found something interesting,” Tylix said. He recounted the story he had read. “Now what do you think about that?”

     “A sorcerer with power over time, huh,” Rikti muttered. “Evett’ll be interested in that. I wonder if he’ll really be able to make it home.”

     “I don’t know,” said Tylix thoughtfully. The Lupe’s face floated in his mind. The shape of it, or perhaps the color, seemed to have changed lately. “Have you noticed he hardly ever talks about himself? His life in the future, his friends, his hobbies.”

     “What’re you getting at?”

     Tylix raised an eyebrow. “Try and name a single distinguishing personality trait of his.”

     “He’s… well, he’s nice...” Rikti faltered. “A-anyway, it’s not a crime to be a bit boring. Doesn’t mean he’s a liar.”

     “Of course not. I only think there might be something he hasn’t told us.” Tylix paused. “He’s not normal, you know. He tries so hard to be, but he’s not.”

     Tylix remembered the night he and Evett had talked outside Tower Gaia. He’d seen Evett’s eyes pointed up at the sky, searching for the constellations he’d known. Those eyes had been mirrors. There was so much depth behind them, and yet they were full of nothing but the stars above. Tylix didn’t know what it meant. He had never understood others. He wanted to understand, more and more, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet that flat gaze head-on.

     “In any case, it’s not my concern,” he said aloud with a cough. “Could you help me shelve these? The archivists won’t be happy if we leave them out here.”

     Rikti chewed his lip, caught up in thoughts of his own, but he nodded. A few minutes passed as they gathered up the books and scrolls strewn about the table. Once they were done, Rikti gave them a long look. Something about him seemed particularly moody. “At least Evett isn’t stuck in the past,” he said.

     “What do you mean by that?” said Tylix, half-absentmindedly.

     “It’s Old Times this, Old Times that,” said Rikti. “All the good stories are from then. All the books in the library talk about them. It’s like nothing else matters to us. To Neopia, I mean.”

     Tylix looked up. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “The reason we don’t have a future is because of what happened all those centuries ago. Erick said it best: as long as those old grudges still linger, time won’t pass for us.”

     “But he also said we could change—move on from it, somehow.” Rikti lay his head on the desk. “I’m trying. It’s easier said than done, being the last hope.”

     “I figured you were eavesdropping,” said Tylix. He reached out and touched Rikti’s arm. “Well, I wouldn’t worry so much. That’s my job, you know. It doesn’t suit you.” What am I saying? he thought. He was terrible at being friendly. But Rikti gave him a bit of a smile, and that was good enough.

     Evett arrived a few minutes later. If he saw anything brewing in the atmosphere of the room, he didn’t show it. He looked almost boyishly excited when Tylix told him about the strange passage in the book. “Wow,” said Evett. “That… I don’t really get it, to be honest, but it sounds promising. Do you really think I could get home?” His eyes were wide. There they were again, those mirrors.

     “It’s possible,” Tylix answered. “I wonder what Eleus would say about it.”

     “Something depressing, I bet,” said Rikti, lifting his head. “Well, I don’t need any more of that now. It’s high time for supper. The Ghost City can wait.”

     As they went up the stairs back to the ground floor, they saw afternoon rays of sun bursting through the windows. The whole corridor, every painting and bookshelf and marble wall, was alive with color. And down below, stretching out to the twinkling ocean, was Sunnytown. At this distance, the chaos of city life was blurred away; it was a quiet, almost placid landscape.

     “It’s a good view,” said Tylix. “Even better than the pavilion, if you ask me.”

     Crowds of scholars passed by, chatting and arguing among themselves. A few apprentices hurried after them, carrying quills and scrolls; Kuent was among them, and as he went by he gave Tylix a friendly wave. Up above, the debate on mind-reading was still ongoing with no end in sight. Tylix wished he could have stayed here forever, an ordinary scholar ensconced in this house of learning. The knowledge his gift brought him was a curse. But looking at Evett and Rikti beside him, he couldn’t help but admit that it was—sometimes—a blessing.

     And yet that night, for the third time in a week, there were no dreams.

     ———

     Evett woke up the next day feeling refreshed. He suggested they explore the town and find a place to train. Tylix obligingly took them on a tour through the merchants’ district, the city center, an enormous public garden, and all sorts of other places. Evett looked around, trying to commit everything he could to his unstable memory. There was so much here—so much that arrested the eye, that filled it with energy. Evett’s only experience with this era’s towns was Neopia City: a bustling metropolis in its own right, but one with a decidedly stately appearance. It was an ancient city, after all; they didn’t call the inner ring Xantan’s Pot for nothing. Sunnytown was an altogether different experience. What it lacked in history, it made up for with overwhelming life.

     Tylix was no exception to the buoyant mood. He led the way, talking all the while. As he explained, he’d lived in Sunnytown ever since his apprenticeship had begun a few years ago. “If not for that, I’d probably still be fishing by the coast.”

     “Yeah, that doesn’t suit you,” Rikti laughed. “Wow. Can you imagine? Our very own prodigy hunched over on some beach angling for anchovies.”

     It sounded like a perfect existence to Evett: the quiet and unambitious life he’d always wanted. And yet, described like that, it did sound absurd. In a time like this, who could dream of the ordinary?

     “Forget about fishing,” said Tylix. “Come here and look at these imports!”

     He gestured to one of the market booths. It was stacked high with sweet-smelling spices and trinkets. As Evett and Rikti came nearer, they saw Tylix already listening raptly to the merchant’s explanations.

     “This? It marks time,” she said, pointing to an floridly-carved little box with a round display. “See? Arm here says hour. Arm here says week of month.”

     Rikti stared at the object skeptically. “Why would anybody need that? We’ve got sundials and hourglasses for that kind of thing.”

     “I think it’s interesting,” Tylix objected. “Look how advanced this is. It’s some kind of machine, right?”

     “Indeed,” the merchant answered. Opening the back of the box, she revealed an intricate set of interlocking gears. “Very simple, no? Neopians should all have. Let me set for you.”

     She began to twist the central gear, and the whole system began to move. Rikti and Tylix watched the arms spin around with wide eyes. Evett squinted at the box. It was a clock, wasn’t it? He’d seen plenty of those in his own time. They had looked different, though—they’d had hands, not arms, and the hands had pointed to… to… what, again? Suddenly he was grasping at nothing. What had the clocks looked like? Like—like—clocks. The word felt unfamiliar even as it came to his mind. His mouth went dry.

     For a moment he stood still, putting the noise and the bazaar aside, thinking only of his home. There was so little to remember. The images fled as soon as he turned his sight to them. He couldn’t understand why. Why this, why now?

     “Evett! C’mon, we’re gonna leave you behind!” shouted Rikti. He and Tylix were already up ahead, flitting from one stall to the next. Evett forced himself to walk on.

     “That device really was something,” Tylix was saying as Evett caught up behind him. “I wish I had more time to look at it. I bet there are scholars here working on something similar right now.”

     Rikti rubbed his chin, looking contemplative. “It’s weird to actually see time with your eyes. The gears, they’re like water wheels turning in a river. Kinda crazy.” It was an evocative image. Absentmindedly Evett pictured the gears circling backwards, winding future into past, churning that unseen water into foam. The river of an unchangeable destiny.

     As he mulled these thoughts over, he found that they had made their way to the northwest point of the city. There was an old shipyard here, sitting by a tributary of the great canal; a few planks and rotting vessels bobbed up and down in the stale water. No one was nearby.

     “Oh, nice,” said Evett. “This is a good spot to practice.”

     “Great. In that case, I’ll take my leave. You don’t need me anyway—” Tylix was interrupted by the roar of a bolt of fire headed straight for him. Dodging at the last moment, he grabbed the orb around his neck and tossed up an array of ice crystals that scattered the flames. “—all right, that was unnecessary.”

     “What do you mean, we don’t need you?” said Evett. “Look at how you ducked that. You’ll be a great training partner.”

     “But I should go study,” said Tylix, not very convincingly.

     Rikti gave him a knowing look. “You want to try out your new gem, don’t you? Well, don’t hold back on our account.” Drawing his sword and strapping on his new buckler, he launched into a thrust.

     The fight began. It wasn’t much of a fight—with magic and a bare blade involved, they were all holding back. Really, it was more of a chance to hone their techniques. They had never had the chance before, not when the drudgery of travel had stolen all their vigor. Here they could practice to their heart’s content.

     Evett had observed Rikti and Tylix fighting before. Now he admired them more than ever. Rikti was fast on his feet, using his small size and limited flight to his advantage; with a shield tied to his arm, he had even greater maneuverability. It was like nothing could touch him, much less hurt him. Tylix, meanwhile, had a knack for pinpoint precision and tactics. He always seemed to place himself perfectly for a ranged attack, whether it was an ice-propelled plank or plain ice itself. And like Rikti, he was polishing his defenses. Evett saw him create an ice sheet in the air that blocked fire and sword head-on; though it cracked easily, it was a formidable start. These two youths had skill and agility Evett knew he could never match.

     Evett didn’t have much to his name other than power. But he had a lot of it. Gali Yoj’s orb channeled the raging energy in his core with flawless ease, like an extension of his own body. He felt his heart beat to its pulsating rhythm. Just as it had in Xantan’s cave and atop the Temple of Roo, the primal magic in him poured out in unremitting waves. Fire coated the ground and rippled through the air. Even holding back, he could barely keep a lid on it. If anything, it had gotten stronger than before. This couldn’t be normal, could it? Something had to be happening to him.

     “You’ve been struck by lightning, that’s what,” Rikti concluded as they sat down to rest. “How do you think the Circle of Twelve got so good?”

     “That’s just a myth!” Tylix sniffed. “Don’t listen to him, Evett. If I had to guess, it’s somehow related to your time travel.”

     Of course. Everything was. “I just hope I don’t burn out or something,” said Evett uneasily. It was strange to think that he wasn’t in control of his own body. First his memories, now his magic…

     “Don’t worry so much,” said Rikti. “There’s still time before we leave. It’ll work out.”

     It’ll work out… That hope carried them through the week. Evett and Rikti spent most of it training. Rikti jumped at the opportunity to trounce Evett in a no-magic duel, which he did several times. Evett grudgingly began to brush up on his physical combat. The staff, while thin, was hardier than it looked; it made a decent club. With luck, he’d be as dangerous up close as he was at range.

     Sometimes they stopped by the Guild to visit Tylix, who had holed himself up in the secondary archives heedless of the other apprentices’ complaints. It seemed he really did plan to focus on his research from now on. Evett and Rikti saw him and the apprentices mostly after dusk, where they whiled away the hours by the fireplace in jokes and conversation. Tylix stayed every time.

     The days passed, warm and mild even as the leaves turned yellow on the trees. The nights were cool, though never exactly quiet. There was no sign of Eleus or Jahbal. Evett felt as if he were inhabiting a single frozen moment of peace, a dream as vivid and shallow as the illusions of Erick.

     “We should leave soon,” said Rikti one evening, as they headed back to the lodge. There was a festival going on, it looked like. Lanterns crisscrossed the orange sky, and the tantalizing smell of street food wafted out in every direction. Someone somewhere was loudly and poorly playing a lute. “We’ve done enough, haven’t we? Look how much stronger we’ve gotten just in these few days. Even Eleus can’t complain.”

     “You’re right,” Evett said. “But… I dunno. Eleus said we were aimless. Are we any less aimless now?”

     “He’s just talking in riddles. I swear he’s making less sense here than he did back in Neopia City.” Rikti rolled his eyes. “I mean, I get it. He doesn’t want us going near—“ he lowered his voice “—Kal Panning. I don’t either. But then why doesn’t he just tell us what’s in there?”

     Evett furrowed his brow. “It feels like he’s waiting for something. Some kind of reckoning. Tylix probably understands it better than us.”

     “Well, that’s true for most things,” came a bright voice behind them. They jumped. It was Tarwin, tailed by the usual gang and Tylix himself.

     “Uh—“ Rikti began.

     “Why the long faces?” said Rys. “Can’t you tell it’s a holiday? Come on, let’s eat!”

     She ushered the group towards a nearby food stall, where they were soon helping themselves to some fried fish. Evett realized belatedly that he was famished. With all the magic leaking out of him, he was lucky he hadn’t keeled over from exhaustion yet.

     “So what’s the occasion?” he shouted over the din and a mouthful of fish.

     “Founders’ Day!” Kuent shouted back, though he was standing right next to Evett. “Minna the Wise laid down the first block of the city wall on this day five hundred years ago.”

     “Unofficial chronicles say otherwise,” Anise interjected. “Personally, I don’t think the story holds much water.”

     “Can’t you turn off your brain for one second?” Rys complained. “This is supposed to be fun!”

     “I am having fun. See?” Anise took a decorous nibble of her biscuit. Everyone groaned.

     They wandered around the streets, eating and watching street performers. Tarwin stopped to argue with a magician doing card tricks. Leir was trying and failing to juggle bean bags. Kuent complained about his workload to anyone in earshot. Tylix shuffled along, looking as if he was doing everything in his power to avoid looking too happy. Somehow amid all the chaos they made their slow way down to the canal.

     It was a little less crowded here, and the water was calm. Evett looked around him. The sun was finally disappearing behind the hills; lantern light shone golden in the darkening sky. Neopets were walking along the banks and over the little footbridges. Some fished, or dangled their toes in the cool water, or sang songs and watched the sunset. The watchtowers were ever-present; the doors leading down to the shelters peeked out from every corner. The city was on guard. And yet the liveliness of Founders’ Day continued unabated.

     “Having a good time?” Tarwin asked, as they all relaxed on a nearby hillside. “You look a little overwhelmed.”

     “I am,” Evett admitted. “I used to live in a big city, but—it wasn’t like this. I was always alone back then.”

     “Well, that’s no good,” said Tarwin, flashing him a signature grin. “Without friends and neighbors, a smelly old place like this would be unbearable. But with them, it’s pretty nice. Life goes on, you know? We all do what we can together.”

     Tylix hugged his knees. “Yes… it’s nice.”

     “Isn’t it?” Tarwin slung his arm around Tylix’s shoulders. “You ought to come out with us more often.”

     Evett was reminded once again of Erick’s illusions, of that determined crowd of followers and those sculptures staring boldly into the night. But Tarwin and all these townsfolk were no mirages of a bygone era. They were real, living Neopians: Neopians who struggled every day for the sake of this peace. And it was that very struggle that made their lives worthwhile. They were anything but ordinary.

     What’s the point? he had asked Eleus. Maybe this was it. Maybe on that night in that ghastly corner of the Haunted Woods… he had made the wrong choice.

     ———

     Mid-afternoon again. Tylix yawned. The rows of scrolls before him slid in and out of focus. Usually it was dreams that kept him up at night, but once more he hadn’t had any; no, the culprit now was the Founders’ Day festivities. He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for the momentary reprieve from his terrible visions or indignant that he was still tired regardless.

     He’d wanted to skip the event, the way he usually did. The joyful crowds and their celebrations didn’t suit him. If anything, they made it hard to keep up his facade. It was impossible not to get attached to it all—the lights, the crowds, the music. The other apprentices, barely more than strangers to him, were suddenly fresh in his mind. And then he thought of Rikti and Evett. Their jokes, their bright eyes. Without them, the room seemed so much larger.

     They would be leaving soon, heading east. There they would meet their destiny. If it couldn’t be changed, he could at least see them once more before it happened.

     “Stop this,” he muttered. “It’s not like you.” Clearing his throat, he resolved to focus on the book in front of him. It was a comprehensive overview of archaeological discoveries in northwestern Neopia around Swampedge City. Normally he would have taken to it with alacrity, but now his head and heart felt heavy. The imaginary snowfall over the Two Rings bit at his fur. “Maybe I should go along with them after all…”

     This was absurd. He’d sworn long ago that he would chase nothing but knowledge in the little time he had before Neopia’s doom. The Valley of Song should have been last of all on his list. But the familiar arguments were drowned out. He understood now why Eleus had called him aimless, and he loathed the truth of it. Slowly, with the inevitability that he knew came only from his magical gift, he passed into sleep.

     At once he knew this was an unusual dream. He was floating in a great, colorless abyss, with his gaze fixed on a golden river. The river had many tributaries, and sometimes it would split into a bundle of narrow streams; but always the shining waters rejoined as one, and together rolled on through the infinite void. Tylix watched the river flow, but he could not make out its origin nor its destination. And from every direction, arresting the ear with its thunderous harmonies, came a symphony of music.

     Tylix didn’t know how long he was there, watching this ethereal performance. Visions couldn’t be measured in seconds or hours or years. But slowly he became aware that the river had changed; or was it that the change had always been there, and he was only now seeing it? Regardless, he looked closer. There was a vortex forming in the river: a mighty disturbance of crashing waves and foam. The music became hurried. Strands of gold splintered from the main body and twisted in bewildering shapes. One of them shot upwards away from the river like a shooting star; another raced forward, to some further point beyond Tylix’s sight; then the two curved towards each other, faster and faster. A harsh and discordant note rang out—no, a whole melody, playing frantically over the lyrical piece that had preceded it. Tylix winced and covered his ears. It occurred to him that this was no ordinary vision. Nothing like this existed or would ever exist in Neopia. He was seeing something far beyond his comprehension.

     The water frothed chaotically. The cacophony rose in volume as the two melodies fought for dominance. It became agonizing to hear the dissonant pitches—the dissonance—dissonance.

     Where did I…

     Darkness fell. It was an utter darkness without sound or light. Tylix saw flashes of the cataclysms he knew well, but every time he reached out to them they vanished. Only a trackless void remained.

     The dream ended abruptly. With a gasp, Tylix awoke to the drab lights of the archives. He shivered. The river… he didn’t understand it, but it was exactly what Rikti had talked about as he’d looked at that foreign time-keeping device. Water wheels turning in the river of time. Somehow it had all gone wrong, and the world—no, the World—had been disrupted. Tylix could still hear the haunting music.

     He shut the book and stood up. Air. He needed fresh air. But just as he turned to the exit, he heard horns all over the city ring out. The scholars in the room leaped to their feet. Tylix froze. He knew what those horns meant. It was an annual occurrence here. But not now. Not this early, and not so suddenly.

     An archivist rushed into the room. “There’s a horde of monsters coming west out of the First Forest,” he yelled. “They’ll be here by nightfall. Report to the city guard if you can fight—otherwise, prepare to take shelter.”

     Exclaims filled the quiet chamber. “It’s too early in the year for an attack!” one scholar protested. “How did it take the guards this long to notice?!” shouted another.

     The archivist raised his hands placatingly. “I don’t know the details, but the scouts say this band of monsters is different from the others. It’s organized, and moving faster than we’ve ever seen. Like an army, perhaps.”

     The scholars were even more dumbfounded at this. “An army? That’s ridiculous. They’re primal beasts.” “Well, don’t forget how things were in the great wars. We have records of Jahbal commanding them—“ “Please! That was a thousand years ago!”

     Silently, and feeling more dazed than ever, Tylix slipped out of the room. He knew nothing of this attack. He’d never had a vision of it. Sunnytown had fallen a hundred different ways in his dreams, but never like this. Not once. It was the first time his power had failed him.

     Then he recalled the blank darkness he had seen. It had not been the darkness of night or ruination. There truly had been nothing there for his visions to show. As he pondered that possibility, nausea struck him. It could be that none of the futures he had seen would come true—that some other, unknown possibility would come to pass. All his life he had stood on the solid foundation of fate, cruel though it might have been. Now even that had gone away.

     More than anything, he felt a pressing emptiness in the space behind his eyes. The World’s imbalance was his imbalance, too. The river and the void would be his last vision. He felt his stomach twist with the sudden loss.

     But maybe… the vision of snow won’t happen either.

     Outside, the city was fast transitioning into a fortress of war. There were no music or lanterns now. Tylix hardly noticed the stream of merchants rushing to the coast, nor the soldiers shouting directions as they marched up and down the streets, nor the townsfolk gathering spears and clubs with grim determination. His feet led him unthinkingly back to the lodge, where he found Evett, Rikti, and the five apprentices in the sitting room. Other apprentices scurried around them en masse, carrying precious artifacts and messages.

     “Phew, you’re here,” said Rikti. “We were talking about what to do.”

     “You should leave,” Tylix told him. “There’s still time before the gate closes. We citizens have to stay, but you can get out and hide somewhere. It’s the best thing to do—“

     Evett shook him by the shoulders. “Slow down. What are you talking about? You don’t sound like yourself.”

     “What?” Tylix reddened.

     “Since when were you so concerned about us?” said Rikti. “We’re gonna fight, of course. If you think we’re going to turn tail and run now of all times, you’ve really lost it.”

     “Your friends’ve been telling us the layout of the city’s defenses,” said Evett. “If we head to the northeast plaza near the main gate, we’ll be in a good place to help out the guards. It’s a central choke point. Right?”

     “You’ll be a general any day now,” said Leir with a straight face.

     Rys looked at Tylix apologetically. “We tried to stop them. But you know these two better than we do. They’re adventurers to the bone.”

     “More or less.” Evett offered a wan smile. “Anyway, thanks for the help. You’d better get your things ready now. I bet the shelters fill up quick.”

     The apprentices turned to go. “Tylix? Are you coming?” asked Anise. Her bright eyes were uncomfortably attentive.

     “Er…” Tylix was having trouble thinking straight. Everything was moving too fast. Logic never seemed to occur to him at times like this. Not in Rollay’s glass garden, not in the Temple of Roo, not here.

     “I’ll stay and fight too,” he said in a strained voice. “Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow. Be—be safe.”

     Anise nodded. “Okay. Good luck to you all.” Those words were hope in themselves. Nothing else needed to be said. With a few smiles and a parting glance, the apprentices disappeared into the crowd. They, at least, would be safe.

     Tylix turned to Evett and Rikti, who were staring at him with eyebrows raised. “Are you sure you’re the real Tylix?” asked Rikti. “I mean, you’re actually worried about us, and now you’re going to fight. Did we rub off on you somehow?”

     Tylix reddened further. “T-this is no time for jokes. I do have a duty to protect the Guild, you know. If Jahbal is attacking now, it must be because he’s grown powerful enough to seek out even more energy. The artifacts in the Guild and the mages’ district will be his first targets.”

     “Makes sense,” said Evett. “That’s why we picked the plaza closest to the mages’ district. It’s a good thing we have you around to confirm our suspicions.”

     “Well…” Tylix hesitated. He felt more embarrassed and scared than ever. How could he admit to them that he’d lost his only guide in all this mess? “Consider them confirmed. Let’s go to the plaza. The guards will probably have plenty of orders for us.”

     As they gathered up their gear and made their way through the street, they could see the afternoon sun hanging low and red in the sky. More shrill hornblasts echoed through the valley. The streets were emptying slowly but surely. The last boats sailed off. Left behind were the guards, the Guild’s mages, and those civilians who had volunteered their arms. A crushing unease filled the city. There was a battle on the horizon, one that would outpace anything Sunnytown had ever seen since the days of old Minna the Wise. Legends of the Old Times were coming to life. It was enough to make any soldier quake in his boots.

     Tylix trudged alongside Evett and Rikti. A pale half-moon shone overhead, illuminating the plaza with a lifeless glow. They walked up to it and felt the tension in their bones. Aimless… yes, the three of them were still aimless on their grand journey. But for tonight at least, they had somewhere to be.

     To be continued…