Welcome to Gaia! ::

Third was never cruel to them directly, never had anything but the kindest smile and sweetest words for his dear little sister and his daemon. Still Constant was worried, and Aelinye somewhat wary. The shift in Third's demeanor was so subtle that animals and children picked up on it when adult humans would not.

Third still went through the same motions as before with the same behavior, it was an underlying motivation that was different, somehow dark. Constant caught glimpses of it every now and then, a stray half-snippet of thought, never enough to be complete, never enough to accuse Third with or justify any argument. Third was not terribly good at keeping things from his daemon, but this strain of himself seemed somehow beyond her grasp. It was like a person she never knew, or did know but could not remember. It was strange like forgetting your own address, or the name of your best friend. You should know it, it just seems to cease existing in your mind, hidden as thoroughly as a passworded file. What the password was, Constant did not know. Perhaps Third knew the password and kept it from her. Maybe he would give it to her if she asked, but asking would require an explanation as to why she wanted to know.

For the first time, Constant was not entirely sure she trusted Third enough to ask him. She was not certain what he would do. For his own sake, she did not want to push him, but she did not know how to bring him back, either. It was as if he was standing just on the other side of a line, and if she was not careful he would walk away from the line and her on the other side.

How do you tell someone something they are not conscious of in themselves? Ask and they will deny it, because they have no way of knowing it is there. Fail to ask and watch it grow like the unseen cancer it truly is. If you tell the person, it might save them, but the surgery could also kill them.

Constant was, she feared, totally out of her league, and without the means necessary to communicate with another for advice. She had to work this out on her own. How to confront him without pushing him away (which could kill them both), how to tell him without evoking his wrath. And it was some sort of wrath, something dark and terrible and hidden, which made it all the more formidable. It could sneak around and hide and avoid her attacks if she did not anticipate its movements. Maybe it was like the wind, something futile to struggle against because how can you stop something your teeth cannot bite into but can kill you by pulling you up into the air and dashing you to pieces against the ground?

Though similarly disturbed, Aelinye was hardly as troubled. The Iridae knew only that her brother was slightly less happy, and somehow something was wrong, but he still read to her and bathed her, and in some of those moments he was his previous joyful self. She had not known him long enough to determine which was the real Third and which was the intruder.

And like the man who does not know he is in Paradise until he has been thrown out of it, Third was blind to the problem and its affects on Aelinye and Constant. Somewhat less so Constant, who seemed depressed to him when he thought she should be happier that they were proving the adults wrong and taking care of Aelinye all by themselves. He tried to make her happier by reminding her of these successes, but to no avail. "See, look at all we've done? Everyone was wrong and we were right!" he would say, with such exuberance he thought it should be contagious. His daemon only nodded her head and thought to him, <> It was merely rote agreement.

He knew Constant would come around in time, suspected she was upset about her lack of freedom and wanting to go exploring. Obviously, they could not so easily leave when they had to take of Aelinye, which he apologized for.

<> was Constant's response to that, so bland it left Third stunned for hours.

It was late at night now, and Third was just done penning the last notes to his diary. It was not a particularly interesting entry, except perhaps for the note at the bottom, written carefully:

Fate begins with a purposeful motivation.

He placed his pen on the table next to the page and let the ink dry before slipping it into the drawer with the rest -- everything he had written except the entry after leaving Trant. The pieces of that page were long gone by now in some dimensional compost heap, wherever trash from the Neighborhood went.

Aelinye was already asleep in her crib, and Constant beside her. The Iridae had, in the past weeks, gradually come to accept Constant's soft fur and fall asleep to that, which left Third more time to write. He felt guilty when he wrote during the day, since that was when Constant and Aelinye were awake and most likely to need him, or want him to play or read books. Third took his current book from the table and went to join them in the crib. The two sleepers barely stirred at his entrance.

Third opened to the last page he had read and resumed learning the history of the Roman emperors. Their rises, their falls, their living spectacles.

For some reason he found his eyes hard to focus, his head nodding. Without realizing it, he was asleep.

Third knew immediately this was wrong. He had enjoyed a true night of sleep only once in his entire life so far, and that had been bordering on unconscious, without dreams or memory of any time elapsed.

This time, Third was conscious of something happening, and his first instinct was to try and escape it. Part of the reason he avoided sleep was the nightmares, or maybe it was better to say the nightmares prevented him from sleeping. Now that his eyes were closed he was desperate to avoid them.

The nightmares did not come. Third flailed helplessly in his own mind, unable to summon his body, and found he was standing on dark green grass in a forest of leafy trees under a moonlit sky, none of which had been there a moment before. A dark, still pond lay beside him.

It was not real moonlight because in some strange way Third could see the trees in this forest quite clearly and without any blue tint. It was night as some artist might paint it, remaining truer to daylight colors than night ones. It was still and quiet as a stone, so quiet that when he heard a drop of water it sounded like a dictionary dropping right behind him. He turned.

"Oh, Third," she said, and it was all that was needed to put tears in Third's eyes. He ran forward almost blinded by the saltwater, never mind that he was walking across water to meet her, and flung his arms around her waist and buried his face in her lap, sobbing with joy.

Emperial smoothed his hair with her hands. She was exactly as he last remembered her on World Zero: skin so pale it glowed, hair flowing around her in a vast halo, white sarong dress secured just under featureless breasts, vivid blue eyes alight with love and curiosity, the pupils almost fully contracted. Emperial whispered to him as her fingers drifted across his hair, "Shhh."

Third looked up at her with loving awe. Just as she had before, she drew him up into her lap and wrapped her glowing arms around him. She kissed him on the head. Third gave a little giggle and wiped the tears in his eyes.

"I am sorry for coming to you like this," she said. "It was the only thing I was able."

Third shook his head. No, it was fine, of course.

Emperial smiled down at him, and he bathed in that radiance. "What have you been doing, my son?" she asked, infinitely kind and patient, and Third felt ashamed. She kissed him again and then smiled. "No matter. It was as much you as any other path."

Not understanding those strange words, Third looked up at Emperial in confusion. Did she mean to say that being so cruel to the others was what he truly wanted? But it felt so wrong, surely it had not been him that had done those things.

Emperial continued. "We are many people, Third, you and I. They are all of them us and we are all of them."

Still Third did not understand.

"You will, in time," smiled Emperial. "What matters now is that you understand I am Emperial, and she is me. She is not exactly the same, but she is trying oh so hard, Third. Can you find it in yourself to forgive her?"

Third brought his head up sharply. Of course he could.

"Good." Emperial's smile spread across her face to her eyes, filled with joyous pride. "She is not perfect, but none of us are. We must forgive the faults of others, and hope that they forgive the same in us."

Third opened his mouth, but Emperial pressed a finger against his lips. "I know," she said. "Have faith."

Third relaxed into her arms, sighing with understood happiness. This was his mother, and now that he was with her everything was perfect.

Emperial let him enjoy this contentment for a moment, but conscious of her time, said, "Do you remember the story of the little girl who was brought into the Underworld?" Third nodded his head. "Well," said Emperial, "she was never able to remove the taint of that dark place, but there were times when it was useful. There were times when it was necessary to believe the worst in people, and to hate them. Hate can be a powerful tool."

Once more, Third was confused, shifting uncertainly in Emperial's arms.

Emperial gave a thoughtful hum, almost a sigh. "There will be times when you find love is ineffective and hate is necessary. I would never wish a universe requiring this, but there are limits to what I can do. When you come upon such situations, it is important that you remember what you are capable of, what all people are capable of when pushed too far."

Third looked up at Emperial, but her gaze was off on the trees. She was not smiling. He took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. Then the smile returned, and she looked back at him.

"When you left World Zero, when you changed it, you took a piece of me with you. Always remember that I am with you, Third, and that I love you unconditionally, and I forgive you. I will always love you."

Third's mouth opened. He realized that their time was at an end. The trees, the night, it was all disappearing. Emperial was disappearing.

"One more thing, Third. When you are ready, read Ender's Game, but never a moment before, even if someone suggests it to you. You'll know when the time is right."

It was fading quickly now. Third finally spoke: "I love you, too!"

Third opened his eyes. The room was quiet. Constant shifted in her sleep at his side. His book lay on his lap, open tot he same page he had left it, and for a moment he wondered if any of it had been real.

Third touched a hand to his chest, where Aelinye's talisman had previously hung. The space was empty now, but was it? He thought back to World Zero, remembered how he Changed it, and realized when he turned that knowledge of Changing on himself that he had been changed by World Zero as much as he had changed it. There was a piece of that place inside him. It had been Emperial, and she words she spoke were true, and she was going to be with him forever. Tears came again to Third, happy with the revelation. He looked at Constant and Aelinye, slumbering so peacefully. To an onlooker, there were three of them, but Third now knew there were four.

He would keep it to himself, since the other two would not find the comfort in it he found. It was enough that he alone knew. Blinking away the tears, Third picked up his book where he had left it.

Reserved for Beach RP

RP with Kyri

Picking up after Constant and Aelinye was not a chore Third minded. His demon and his baby sister were worth the cleaning effort in more ways than one. Doing something for them made him feel good, the sort of good cheer that can come only from helping someone else with no thought of reward.

More than that, he sort of liked the fact he was the main responsible one in a house full of girls. It made him feel like somewhat of a leader, setting a good example by tidying up where he was able. In some ways it was an unnecessary good task: the house never seemed to get very dirty. The floors were always polished and cleaned, the tops of shelves dusted, and no one ever lifted a finger. It was hard to suspect what sort of mechanism lay behind this mystery. There was no sign of an artificial entity like Siba, nor of any overt magical charms. Just nice pots and pans, a constantly-stocked kitchen, carpets that never stained and perfectly unblemished walls.

It was something strange about the house, and Third knew this only because he knew the house, like World Zero, felt different from Gaia. He could not put this feeling into words. It was merely something he could tell, and Constant confirmed it.

Not that the house couldn't be made to be dirty -- Emperial's room proved that. Third had only brief glimpses into the pit of mess existing there. He also knew that if something was done intentionally, it stayed there, messy or not. When Aelinye took her crayons to the wall it did not go away. Luckily Emperial did not mind, and the mess of color was more amusing than annoying.

Third made his way along the hall, sorting the toys into three groups. First Aelinye's toys, which were few, as she was in the habit of picking things up and never letting them go. Then Constant's toys, which were guaranteed to be scattered everywhere along the day's trail. The daemon flitted from one distraction to the next, following her nose and dropping things in her wake. Finally, the remnants of Constant's toys, when she was quite done chewing them. That pile was destined for the trash.

Had she not been busy watching Aelinye, Constant would probably have helped Third. He knew she wanted to. The little daemon hated the thought of Third doing anything without her, not when she could be useful. The problem was that one of them needed to watch Aelinye napping, and Constant's teeth and saliva were rather ungentle to Aelinye's belongings so cleaning duty fell to Third regardless. It was up to both to make the best of it.

Any situation could be turned into a positive with the right attitude. One person's grueling chore was another's labour of love. One person's defeat was another's learning opportunity. It was all a question of perspective.

Living up to that was the tricky part, but Third found it was a skill that, like any other, increased with practice. It was possible to learn patience, it was possible to learn from mistakes. If he failed to find the positive perspective of a situation, the next time he would try harder until eventually the proper perspective came to light.

Third's path took him past the door to Emperial's computer room, which was ajar. He could see her lit up in blue by the light of her screen, topless but for a silken white bra. Her bottom half lay obscured by long grey cargo pants, loose and low on her hips. The sound of explosions and power-ups burst from her speakers. City of Villains, her current passion. From the sound of the automatic weapons fire, her Mastermind toon, the one based on herself and accompanied, predictably enough, by soldiers named after her favorite scifi characters.

He knew this because, when they were downstairs eating dinner, Emperial delighted in regaling him with tales of her victories and conquests regardless of whether or not he had any interest in the subject. She was easily carried away by her own hobbies. Third listened out of polite attention, and because without her yammering, dinner was too quiet.

"Hullo, Third!" she said, looking away from the screen a moment. With her Mastermind, she could afford to. Her minions would carry on the battle with or without her attention and protect her if required. When she played her main character, a stone-fisted magic Brute, she could scarcely be distracted lest her character be pummeled to death. The house might catch on fire and she would stay glued to the screen until she could put her toon somewhere safe, preferably not the hospital. Maybe. Or maybe not. She seemed to find her toon's deaths somewhat amusing, on account of him being a vampire.

On the whole, Third knew entirely more about her online gaming habits than he wanted to. "Hi," he said.

She looked at the toys in his hand. "You don't have to pick those up."

He shrugged. "I want to." His labour of love, her chore.

"You are completely bizarre," she said affectionately, looking back at the screen long enough to throw a new set of orders at her minions.

Third had no answer to that. Maybe he was bizarre. Maybe that was a good thing, as she had intended the compliment. He did not linger in the doorway long. The computer room always triggered the buzz in his ears and if he stood there too long it would start to give him a headache.

He moved into the guest bedroom, blissfully devoid of any electronics. He had developed a scale for the buzzing sensation. Anything below a five was harmless and merely annoying. Anything above five was discomforting and potentially painful. Light bulbs and toasters were a one. Air conditioning was a three, the microwave was four, and the computer a seven. Television he ranked at five. Sometimes it bothered him and sometimes it didn't. Add up the numbers and it was clear which rooms he tended to avoid. The only uncomfortable room he made a point to visit regularly was the kitchen. Its uses outweighed the discomfort.

The guest bedroom held nothing more threatening than several light bulbs, none of which were on. The room was lit in the daytime by a broad window and dark at night unless there was a guest. It was also the cleanest room in the house both in terms of mess and decoration. Only a bed, night stand with lamp, mirror, and sliding closet doors. Everything was shades of white.

Someday, the guest bedroom was going to be Aelinye's, and then Third would decorate it as thoroughly as his own room but in shades of pink and with lots of bows and ruffles, as befitted a little girl. Enough pink that he and Constant would be unable to stand it and give Aelinye some privacy. He knew well enough that he could only have his current relationship with his sister while they were both small, and eventually a certain degree of it would be inappropriate. Societal mores, developmental necessity, depending on the theory of psychology one subscribed to. There were a lot of conflicting opinions where child-rearing was concerned.

Third had read enough psychology to realize that in most instances the only thing a person in any sort of parental capacity could do was what they thought to be right. Provided it was motivated by love and good intentions, it would probably turn out for the better.

Third diligently checked under the bed and in the closet. He spotted Constant's knotted rainbow rope behind the full-length mirror and went to collect it. Constant would be glad to have her rope toy back. It was her favorite and to date the longest lived of all her belongings.

He noticed something odd in his reflection in the mirror, a faint fluctuation. He blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Then he saw it again. It looked like a distortion of the glass.

Third had never noticed the glass of the mirror being warped before. Was it some reaction to the recent summer heat? He deposited his colorful bounty at his feet and reached towards the mirror, wondering if the distortion was the result of a physical change in the glass.

The mirror was warm to the touch. Odd, and maybe supporting the heat theory. Perhaps something more recent than summer temperature. Maybe the air conditioner was broken and venting hot air to this location, enough to warp the glass.

As his fingers pressed against the mirror, he felt them break the surface and instinctively pulled back, only to find his fingertips were stuck. It was as if the mirror had suddenly melted.

Third's eyes went wide and he gasped, pulling again. The only thing that happened was his fingers sank deeper, past the first joint. He silently called out for Constant and grabbed his wrist with his other hand, pulling even harder.

Before Constant could offer any reply, the mirror pulled back. Third's arms sank in up to the elbows and his knees raised in instinctive reaction to the sensation of falling forward, trying to brace for impact or against the surface of the mirror for leverage, only there was no solid surface and his knees sank into the mirror.

Third cried out in alarm, only no sound came forth because his throat was frozen and constricted. He struggled wordlessly, sinking further into the mirror and trying to stop it. At the last possible moment he turned his head aside and leaned his neck back in a futile effort to keep his head free. <>

If his daemon replied he did not hear her, for he was very quickly and completely submerged all the way into the mirror. He tried to breathe and was stopped by the all too familiar sensation of something thicker than water, a liquid with the properties of tar or mercury. His throat seized up against the liquid and caused him to choke. Before he knew it he was swallowing the water and drowning.

He made valiant efforts to swim through the thickness towards the direction he thought was up, the direction he felt Constant. She would be coming just as she had before, diving in to save him, or at the very least join him so they would be together as was their destiny. Together forever. He stretched out his arms to receive her and pull her close and bury himself in her comforting fur.

He stretched out his arms, waiting, knowing. Believing so hard he could feel it.

She was coming. She had to be coming. He opened his mouth and screamed to summon her with all his desperation. <> He screamed it again and again in his head while his lungs filled with heavy water and his head reeled with aching pain and threatened to force him unconscious. If he only had her he could do this, the same as they had done it before.

She did not come. He realized with a flash of anguish through all the pain that he could not feel her.

His daemon was gone.

He was falling deeper. The water was pulling him under, burying him in its darkness. He wanted to struggle but he had little strength left. His senses were fading. He was falling into darkness.

He was alone. He was engulfed.

Third stumbled back in defense, an instant reaction to the sight of the teeth. He hit the ground, hard, bouncing, bringing his hands up protectively in front of his face.

It was only a moment later that he realized it was not a real maw at all, but a carving. It was the same color as the rest of the room, that dull, dirt brown, but smoother. Third's eyes went up the wall to the nose, big enough that he could crawl halfway inside, and then the massive, squinting, laughing eyes, fixed in a permanent mask of gruesome amusement. The carving was so precise that he could make out every chip and nick in every tooth, every pore of the skin, every hair in the giant nose. The head was fat, rolls and bags of flesh piled atop one another, vast bulbous surfaces pricked by warts and pimples.

In short, it was too real, but the face was flat. Save for the protuberance of the nose, it was not more than three feet deep, and he could see the back of the throat was carved only to give the illusion of depth.

On either side stretched a giant pair of arms, encircling him completely, bulging where once inoffensive wall had been. Every vein, every wrinkle, and behind him two massive hands curled as if closing in to pick him up. Third could see the grit under the fingernails.

In the back of the giant's fake mouth were carved words:



Rising out of the floor were two basins, each the size of Third himself. He could see in them two liquids, one thick and creamy, the other an unsavory green with little bubbles breaking the surface. How it bubbled and how the liquids remained in this underwater realm, Third did not know. Perhaps they were heavier than the thick water. Perhaps the laws of physics could not be applied.

Third stared at the choices, blank. If one were going to serve poison, would it look poisonous and green? Or creamy and inviting? The green looked so obviously poisonous that it would drive a person to try the white. Which meant the white was poisonous.

Or, knowing that someone would think that, the green really was the poison. Because it looked so unappealing, a person would think it was the safe choice, when in fact the safe choice was the white.

Rooted in place, Third just stared and stared at the choices. If one was obvious, then it was the other, but that line of thought was so obvious, it had to be the reverse. But that line of thought was so obvious, the reverse of the reverse had to be true.

There was simply no way of knowing, and there were no more clues. The carved giant was not talking. Neither basin had any writing. Third could try and analyze the chips in the giants teeth or the lines in the palms of his hands, but whether they indicated the safe choice or the poison was just as circular as trying to figure out the obvious. And even if there were clues, they could just as easily be lies.

Realizing it was hopeless, Third guessed. He kneeled before the creamy basin and cupped his hands, bringing the liquid to his lips. Some dribbled off his chin and onto his jacket.

At first he felt nothing. Then it felt as if his insides were exploding and he stumbled backwards, clutching at his stomach. Suddenly his skin was pulling away from his muscles, and his muscles away from his bones, and his entire body was exploding and inflating and bloating up like the fat giant. Third screamed as his face pulled away from his skull and his throat ripped apart.

He had chosen wrongly.

He was lying on the brown dirt floor, encircled by the giant's arms. Third lay there, barely breathing, his body still tingling as if from electric shock. He did not even want to try and move. Just thinking about moving his muscles brought up images of his skin flapping around like a windsock.

He was still, for lack of a better word, alive.

Third closed his eyes and lay there, not even wanted to think about where he was. He thought of Aelinye, and Constant, and Emperial, all sitting around in the park having a picnic, or at the beach, or anywhere except this place. He wanted to go home.

Of course, since he would never get home by simply laying there, he forced his legs and arms to move, winced, and stood up.

He nearly fell back down again. His muscles felt like they had been stretched thin and then scrunched together again. He could feel the pulsing of blood through his skin and it made him uncomfortable. He looked towards the giant.

Two basins. One of them sparkling yellow like champagne, the other black as night. The phrase "third time's the charm" ran through his head, and he went straight for the black liquid. He dipped his fingers in.

The black liquid struck back. It exploded up into his face, drenching him, and his head melted away. It was so quick he barely had time to realize what had happened.

He woke up again. His face itched, his muscles were still tingling from the last death, and he stared at the giant's happily leering face. The wrinkled eyes looked even more delighted than before.

One liquid, red as blood, the other changing colors before his eyes. Every color of the rainbow. It was a welcome change from the drab colors of this pit, but Third went for the red.

It tasted like cherries. He caught on fire.

It erupted from his stomach and his throat and when he opened his mouth a searing column of flame spat out that lingered even in this underwater grave and might have been funny if not for the fact he was on fire. He dove for the other liquid, intending to drink it and quell the flames ripping apart his throat, but when he opened his mouth fire erupted and the rainbow liquid ignited and caught fire to his clothes and hair. Third tried to roll on the ground but the flames were unaffected. He burned and burned until his flesh was wrinkled and brown as the cavern walls and his clothes hung off in charred strips where they had not melted into his skin.

He twitched a long, slow death and awoke again with his face itching, his muscles tingling, and the feeling of sandpaper on his skin. He had now died four times, and did it not look like the giant's arms had curled tighter and his grin gone wider? Third gasped and struggled to his feet once more to see what colors the basins held.

Brown-green like swamp sludge. Sparkling yellow like champagne. He picked the sludge. He just had to get it right this time. The laws of probability were on his side by now. It tasted like it looked. Splotches of brown and green appeared on his skin and his flesh rotted off his bones. It was the reverse of the bone-dissolving death. He collapsed in a pile of his own rotted flesh while his brain turned to mush.

He was on the brown floor and now he was quite certain that the giant's arms had gotten smaller. Not proportionally, but the space around him was constricting. He could walk from the hands to the teeth in less than twenty paces.

He knew without a doubt this game was rigged.

His body was now one giant, invisible bruise, and his skin itched and felt rubbed raw, and his muscles buzzed, though the buzzing was less noticeable against the various skin conditions. It hurt no matter what he did, stood or sat. The only difference was where.

The riddle was still peeking out from the back of the mouth, promising both poison and salvation. Maybe the poison was salvation. Maybe it was just some cruel joke.

One basin held liquid that sloshed and foamed like the ocean, the other looked a lot like cottage cheese. He sat down in the middle of the room and decided not to play. "Do you hear me?" he shouted at the giant. "I'm not doing this any more!"

The giant grinned back with that same frozen mask of an expression. Third sat and glared at the face with all the anger he could muster.

When he was tired of sitting, he stood up. When he was tired of that he lay on his back staring at the inky darkness up above. He even tried to summon his energy wings again without success. He tried different positions, looking for one that was slightly more comfortable. The pain just continued until the throbbing in his head returned and his eyes stung. (From what, he could not tell.) He double-checked the giant's features, looking for changes, he double-checked his clothes and his pockets and his shoes and everything else he could find to check, all to no success. The liquid in first basin still sloshed around, the liquid in the second just sat there looking white and lumpy.

He stalled and nothing happened. He began to realize that nothing would. Suddenly it occurred to him that the only thing more terrible than dying again was doing nothing. Being paralyzed with fear or reason: that was no victory.

He chose the liquid that reminded him of the ocean, the ocean he loved so much and wanted to see again. He drank it. It tasted of salt.

Impossibly, though he was underwater now for a long time, he began to drown.

He could feel his lungs filling with water, though they already were full of it, and he fought the urge to struggle and swim and just stood there, choking on it until his strength left him and he fell down and the light grew dim.

And when he came to, he was still in the dull brown room and the giant leered at him and the arms were encircled all the closer but something had changed.

The giant's eyes were open.

It was just a tiny crack, but from it Third could make out two things. The one eye of the giant was formed from brown, as everything else, but the other was glass. The giant had a glass eye.

Third forgot all pain and laughed, audible. A cyclops, he should have seen it. The giant had only one eye. Then he pointed his finger at the giant. "I see you. Do you see me?" The giant did not answer. Third set his jaw. "If by my death I can bring you any closer to yours, then I will gladly die."

The one liquid was soft powder blue and specked with little holes like a cake, though it was no solid. The other was patches of grey and glowing white that moved like the shadow of tree leaves faintly blowing. Third was more curious about that one. He cupped his hands and tasted it. Strange and milky. His body began to glow. He briefly thought that maybe the liquid did indeed lead to Fairyland, but then realized that was stupid and started to laugh. Pieces of his body faded away and it felt like he was burning with hot pokers. He kept laughing, hysterical, until his heart stopped.

He died and got back up. The giant's eyes were a quarter of the way open now and his arms had reduced the size of the room by a third. The giant's features were gradually morphing from laughter to anger. The first liquid was pink with little shiny flecks of silver, the second smoky green with popping bubbles. He chose the first.

A thousand cuts opened up on his skin and he bled from every one. His stomach ripped open as if cut by glass from the inside and his guts spilled out and he held them in his hands and toppled over from the blood loss.

He woke up again on the floor, in more pain than ever, to the point where he did not stand but merely crawled towards the nearest basin. The giant's eyes were halfway open now and his arms had reduced the room even further, so much so that Third, on a good day (of which this was not one) could have leaped from one side to the other with a bit of a run.

The liquid in the basin was flesh-colored and thin and kept slipping through his fingers. After a few tries he gave up, but he was unwilling to crawl over to the other basin when he was already here, so he tilted his head until he could slurp at the liquid like a dog.

It coursed through him like ice and suddenly he was being crushed, as if by the giant's very hand, and his bones were snapping and his lungs collapsing and then his skull broke and he was dead again.

It felt like it took him longer to wake up and he was nearly spent, but finally he saw it had been enough. The giant's eyes were open completely, his whole massive face contorted with rage and fury, and his fingers were nearly at Third's coattails. His mouth loomed impossibly huge and threatened to swallow Third up. Third imagined that if that happened, he would cut his way out of the giant's stomach as surely at the pink and silver poison had his.

Third pulled himself up, ignoring the aches and pains which were everywhere on his body. Sharp pains, dull pains, aches and sores and burning, hurts that he had no words for and could not describe. He tried to rise and fell. He stumbled and dragged himself across the floor, past the basins, towards the giant. He was at the base of the giant's face, perilously close to those giant teeth, and he began to climb.

The giant was as contorted in rage as he had been in laughter and his skin was creased by many folds and wrinkles. Still the going was tough and probably would have been even if Third had not been nearly blind with the pain. He crawled up the giant's lips to his nose, and pulled himself from there to the bulge of the giant's angry cheek and held onto the giant's carved eyelashes.

The glass eyes stared back at him, improbably strange and huge. The pupil and iris were nearly reflective, and through them Third could see himself, outside the mirror, the guest bedroom in the background, exactly as he had left himself, with an expression of shock and curiosity.

How innocent he looked, prior to so many deaths. Third felt like the face on that side of the mirror might not represent himself any more, that it belonged to someone he had forgotten long ago. He felt relieved and a little sad. He thought to himself, Good, he's still okay, as if the image in the eye were someone else entirely. Maybe he was. But he would need Third, that much was certain, so Third clenched his hand into a fist, sending new waves of sharp pain through his arm and up into his shoulder, and punched the giant in the eye.

The glass shattered into a million, billion pieces and for a moment, in every one of them, Third could see himself reflected, and his expression was the same as the angry giant's.

Then the moment was over, and Third was pitching forward into the emptiness where once had been an eye, falling into nothingness and suddenly all was light.

He was back. Relief flooded his mind and he gasped, collapsing. The mirror had cracked under his fingers, a spiderweb of jarring lines that broke his reflection into a hundred pieces. He could feel Constant again, and it was indescribable the way her presence affected him. He would never take her for granted again. He felt whole, he felt real. The air had never tasted so sweet. He looked at his hand but there was no cut, no blood. The glass has simply shattered under his fingers somehow.

The flood of emotions sent Constant into a near panic, desperate to know what was going on, and yes, she was happy that he was glad to be with her, but why?

Third realized from the tone of her thoughts that she was exactly as he had left her. For her, nothing had changed, his whole experience had not existed. Third did not want to inform her of what had happened, at least not yet. Let him enjoy the moment and the relief without needing to worry or remember.

Sending reassurances to his daemon and instructing her to stay with Aelinye, Third sank to the floor and held his face in his hands. He was not physically okay. He could feel his heart rate and his blood pressure and they were not where they were supposed to be. He hid this from Constant, a little surprised that he was able to, and wondered if she had things she hid from him. Probably. He hoped so. She was her own person as much as she was a part of himself, and they both needed their own distinct identities as much as they needed each other.

The door to the guest room opened and Third weakly looked up. Emperial quietly approached him, glass of water in hand. She crouched at his side and handed him the glass. He drank gratefully. His daemon was oblivious by his own decision. How did Emperial know?

"Are you alright?" she asked.

He nodded. The water helped. "Yes. I think so."

"I'm glad."

He remembered something. He remembered the destruction of World Zero and his unwitting part in it. "Are you alright?"

She gave a little sniff of laughter, touched by the fact he would go through so much and then be worried for her. "Yes, I think so." She reached out a hand to his forehead. She pursed her lips thoughtfully and brushed his hair back from his face in affection.

It was then he realized it: she was as good as her word, she had not left him. She had promised to always be there and protect him, and in some way she had. He had mixed feelings about that sort of noninvolved presence, but that was something to be resolved later when he was up to a good, long mental exercise.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said. Then she kissed him on the forehead, exactly as the white goddess in his memory, and left him. He let her go and sipped at the water. It felt so good against his throat, cooling and calming him. No modern medicine could equal the combination of hydrogen and oxygen atoms after what he had experienced. No science could solve such a basic problem the way a cup of water could.

Constant was growing more insistent and Third reassured her again before rising unsteadily to his feet. The door to the hallway was open and waiting.

A few days later, Emperial called Third into her computer room/office and her screen was empty except for a word processor and attention was completely on Third.

"Third," she said gravely, "we need to talk."

It was completely unexpected because, firstly, Em was not playing computer games, and secondly, Third could think of nothing he, Constant, or Aelinye had done in the past few days to warrant serious discussion. Unless it was related to his recent growth? It seemed a little early for The Talk, even if he was bigger, and Third knew all about that from his books, anyway. He could only conclude that this talk was not about him.

Emperial took a deep breath and chewed on her lip. It was a little hard to take someone wearing only a housecoat and underwear seriously, but that was clearly what Emperial was going for, even if she was wearing knee-high rainbow striped socks and her hair was a complete mess from sleeping.

"It's like this," she said, and Third patiently waited. "I have certain responsibilities, and..."

Third watched her, still waiting, still wondering, his hands planted firmly on his knees and his posture completely attentive.

"It's a little hard to do my job with you here."

Her job? Third had not realized Emperial had any employment. She never left the house except to see people, and if she was at home, she was usually watching TV or playing computer games. There was absolutely no indication that he even had a desire for employment.

"I know I've never made it exactly clear what it is a Praetorix does, but, suffice to say, if I were to complete my duties, it would involve me bringing people into this house that you wouldn't approve of." She paused. Third continued to listen, because there was nothing for him to say to that.

"It isn't that you wouldn't approve of them personally, but that you wouldn't approve of them being around Aelinye. And frankly I don't blame you." She looked up, determination in her eyes. "I wouldn't want them around my small children, either."

"Are you asking for my permission?" said Third tentatively.

"No. If you knew the people I'm talking about, you would never give it. The kind of things these men do isn't appropriate for being around small children."

Third's face opened up in alarm. He did, after all, know of several bad things from his book, things he would never want to be around Aelinye. Emperial waved her hand.

"Oh, no, no, don't worry about that," she said. "It isn't as if I can't control them, and anyway, they wouldn't ever do that to me. I'm their friend, after all. But the people I mean-- they've had bad things happen to them. They..." She went quiet again.

"They what?" prompted Third after a moment.

Another deep breath. "Do you know what the most terrible thing in the world is?" she asked quickly. Third did not answer, again, having no clear response. Emperial swallowed and clecnhed her fingers. "To be betrayed by people you love. And because you love them, you can forgive them, and you can't stop loving them, but they're too proud to say they're sorry and that what they did is wrong. And, umm," she turned away from Third. "Even worse is if they never loved you to begin with, and now you love someone and they don't love you back. But...

"It's not irreparable. It can be fixed." Her eyes were back on Third now. "And that's my job. To take people who have had such terrible things done to them, and fix them. It requires a great deal of concentration, and I can't fairly do that and still say that I am a proper guardian of you, Constant, and Aelinye. I'm not asking your permission. I think it's time I went back to doing my duty. And there's this person, I think we can help him. And even though it's going to be Ken's job, I want to be there and support him. And so... I'm asking you to leave."

Except for the hum of Emperial's computer, the room was very quiet.

Emperial licked her lips nervously. "Umm..."

With a small exhalation and a smile, Third said, "It's alright."

"I wouldn't really be leaving you," said Em quickly. "It isn't as if I wouldn't be your guardian. I just think it would be better if you were living with an imperatrix and not a praetorix. And so, I asked Em in Greyhaven if she would agree to take you, and she did." Emperial's mouth quirked into a funny little smile. "I think you'll find she's not that much different from me, and maybe even more like the Em you knew on World Zero." Emperial made a small laugh at herself.

Greyhaven. It sounded sort of familiar.

"I promise you'll like it, it's very different from here, but there are some familiar things. It should be very interesting." Em was beginning to sound like maybe she was a little jealous.

"If we go, you'll be able to do your job?" said Third quietly.

"Yes," said Em.

"And it's safe for Aelinye."

"Safer than anywhere else."

"And if we stay?"

Emperial's lip trembled. "Then I'll stay, too."

But she wouldn't be happy, Third knew. It was easy to see how much she wanted to return to her self-appointed duties. He smiled. "I hope you'll help a lot of people."

Emperial let out a squeal and jumped out of her chair, embracing Third tightly. "Eee, I knew you'd understand. And I promise, I'm still your guardian, even if it's not the same exact person. And when I'm done fixing people, I'd like you to meet some of them and tell me if you think they're worth it. I'm sure you'll be proud of me."

A bit reluctantly, Third hugged Emperial back. She was trying to make him proud? Wasn't the parent/child relationship usually supposed to be the opposite? But Third figured that he was probably older than Emperial in more ways than one, even if she was older physically, so he just smiled and squeezed her. Hopefully, Trion and Ken would take care of her, because he was going to miss it.