Leaving Kurma’s side was not as easy as Cimmerian had wished. His glowing orb was the only light as far as her eye could see, and it gave her comfort to have it there by her side, along with the man who had fallen out of the sky to save her only moments ago. It seemed as if she was wandering into the primordial ooze without a guide each step she took away from him. She walked and walked until the yellow orb became a speck on the horizon, a firefly buzzing in the distance.
 
Visibility was impossible outside of that single speck. The harder she tried to see in the absolute darkness, the fuzzier things became. Her mind began to play tricks on her. She imagined things moving just in front of her, constantly twisting and bending out of sight each time she tried to look harder. Yet her feet seemed to know this path, moving with a sureness that she did not feel in her heart. Before long, Cimmerian could see another light on the horizon, this one glowing blue.
 
The closer she got to the light, the less hopelessly black her surroundings seemed. It was as if someone had turned off all the lights in the world, and she just had to be patient enough to let her eyes adjust. When she glanced to her feet, Cimmerian could see the tiny rocks there, the cracks and breaks of Pluto’s rugged terrain. The air carried a subtle coolness, as if she were walking through a misty sheet. Her anxiety began to dissipate, each step making her feel safer and safer until she reached the base of a large crater. The glow crawled up into the sky just behind it. Judging from her limited vision, it would probably be difficult to walk around. There was no other option but to scale its side.  
 
Above the line of the crater, a lone tree peeked upward toward the starry sky. Its long silvery branches stretched wide, each one heavy with small blue fruit that glistened like dewdrops. Cimmerian climbed toward it, stumbling twice over the rocky ledge. She placed one hand on the trunk, the other gripping the crater’s lip, and pulled herself up onto the flattened rim. Immediately, she knew the source of the blue glow on the horizon.
 
A pool of crystal clear water churned restlessly at the base of the crater. The surface shimmered gossamer as fizzy white bubbles stirred tiny jetties of motion. From where she stood, Cimmerian could see no source for this movement, and yet the water continued to sway in a constant flux, ebbing and flowing like the ocean itself. Her eyes couldn’t pull themselves away from it, the motion, the glow, the aura.
 
“They are the waters of time,” said a voice behind her.
 
She was not alone.
 
Cimmerian turned over her shoulder, eyes wide.
 
A woman dressed simply in a hooded white robe stood by the base of the tree. Her eyes gleamed a bright mint green against the dark blue rock and dirt of Pluto. The woman smiled knowingly at Cimmerian, though the younger girl did not understand why.
 
“Who are you?” Cimmerian said dumbly, feet planted to the rim.
 
The old woman only folded her hands in front of her and tilted her head to the side. “Why, I’m your family,” she said. “And it’s very nice to finally meet you, Penelope.”
 
A chill raced up Cimmerian’s spine. How did this woman get here, let alone know her name? The entire planet seemed desolate and shrouded in absolute darkness, save this single tree and the glowing pool of water. It wasn’t often that Cimmerian found herself speechless. She’d chalked it up to a mystery of the Cosmos later, something to do with space-time continuum sucking all her words out.
 
“It’s all right, dear,” the stranger said. “I can understand the shock. There was a time many, many centuries ago when I had precisely the same look on my face.” The lines around her eyes crinkled as the woman smiled. “You can call me Esabel. I always thought it would be nice to hear someone call me Grandmother, but I’m not sure you’ll want to calculate all the great-greats that would need to precede it to be accurate.”
 
A spark of curiosity stirred Cimmerian’s lips. “You’re my… grandmother?” she asked.
 
“Oh no, dear. I died a very long time ago,” Esabel said, laughing. “I am your ancestor and the last Cimmerian Knight from our line – well, that is… before you rose to your duty.”
 
Cimmerian’s mouth fell open, eyes blinking wildly. Esabel laughed again, this time with a touch of pity. “Ah yes, that must be shocking too. All of this seems so complicated at first, but I have known you were coming since the day I set foot on Pluto years and years ago. Time can be funny that way. Sometimes you forget the order of things. You see, we have already met, Penelope, and yet, we have also never met – and still again, we are meeting. Here,” she said, sweeping an arm out to the water, “everything is, was, and will be. We are just tiny molecules in the swirling current of time.”
 
As if it hadn’t been startling enough to find a strange woman standing by a stranger pool on a strange planet, now Pluto threw another curve ball. Her awakening as a Knight of Pluto had been foretold? To who? And if Esabel had seen Penny coming, then what would she be able to see ahead of time? Would she even be aware of it as a future event, or would it be caught in the same miasma that Esabel’s own thoughts seemed to be?
 
As a girl who worried more about what she was going eat and when her next script deadline was than anything else, Cimmerian was not prepared for this degree of existential thinking. She had never contemplated her purpose before. She only saw the world in terms of what she wanted to accomplish, tasks that she could take on one by one in order to reach her career goals. Conceptualizing herself as something that transcended reality – the reality she had come to know and love – was extremely difficult for her.
 
Her face paled. None of this was making any sense to Cimmerian, and none of it was making her feel anymore at ease. Had she asked for this? No. Had she wanted to have this lofty mantle draped over her shoulders? No. She only wanted to be a success; she was determined to do that. Now that she was this Knight of Pluto, Cimmerian had no idea what to think about anything. It made her feel hopelessly lost.
 
Esabel seemed to sense that, her eyes flickering with amusement between the waters and Cimmerian’s face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Our planet is very different from the others, as is our Princess. Pluto keeps the Gates of Time, and we, beside Princess Pluto, are sworn to protect them.”
 
“I am…” she began, trying to make sense of this, “a keeper of time?”
 
Esabel shook her head. “No, no, Princess Pluto is the gatekeeper. We are merely sworn to her service on behalf of Prince Endymion and the pact between the Senshi and Earth. I was called to duty just as you were once long ago, and when I was seventeen, my lot was cast out here to the Cimmerian Shade of Pluto, to revel in the planetary phenomenon that existed as the source of my powers, as it now exists for you.” There was a spark in the old woman’s eyes that told of secrets unspoken and worlds unseen, but Cimmerian could not bring herself to inquire further on it. This was already far too much for her to handle. She’d only discovered what she was three days ago.
 
The rocky ledge of the crater bent in naturally-formed steps. Cimmerian took a seat there, resting her chin on her palm. In the same way that she had felt the truth of what Gehenna said back in Bill’s Saloon, she felt it now speaking with Esabel. She just didn’t know what that meant. “Cimmerian Shade,” she repeated, testing the word with her tongue. “I heard a voice tell me that back when I first became this.” She gestured hastily to the uniform she wore. “Cimmerian, Knight of Pluto.”
 
“That was me.”
 
Cimmerian glanced up at the robed woman. “I figured,” she said. “I mean, I recognize your voice from then. It has the same cryptic heaviness now that it did then.” She turned back to front, let her eyes blur on the churning pool for a long time.
 
Esabel allowed the silence to persist. It was as if she knew the freshly-awoken page had more to say and simply needed a moment of peace and quiet to collect her thoughts. “I just don’t get it,” Cimmerian said suddenly. “I’m 27. I’m not some teenager in a miniskirt. I’m not some kid in all black running around terrorizing the city. I’m twenty-seven. This seems like a hell of a time to show up in my life spouting off about this interstellar job that I never signed up for.” Her words picked up in speed, the intensity growing. “You know what? I have a job, a damn good one. I’m a producer, okay? That is what I do for a living.” One hand fell to the dirt, lifting free a handful of small rocks. She tossed them into the waters of time one by one and watched them disappear.
 
“That is your job, Penelope. But it is not your duty, and it is not your destiny.” 

“What if I want it to be? All I want to do in life is become the next Barbara Walters. I don’t need to play superhero to be happy or feel fulfilled.”
 
“This isn’t about you. This is about the needs of the universe. Those needs far outweigh your desire to mimic the life of a woman you hardly know.” 

”I know everything there is to know about Barbara Walters, okay? Question my loyalty to your cause, sure, but you damn well better not question my loyalty to Barbara Walters.”
 
The words hung above them like a rain cloud. Esabel sighed. Cimmerian turned to glare at her, but the woman was closer suddenly, standing just behind where she was seated. The young page stiffened at her proximity. “Penelope,” she began, eyes hard and unyielding, “you can try to run from your destiny, but it cannot be escaped. These things will come to pass. I have already seen it. You will rise to the challenge because that is what you do.” Her hand extended toward the water, and Cimmerian followed the gesture with her eyes.
 
The surface began to bubble and take an entirely new shape. Cimmerian saw herself as a toddler helping another toddler put away toys. She saw herself as a child wrapping her arms around her father as he cried about losing his job. She saw herself as a teenager sitting in a classroom sketching a symbol in the margins of her notes: the sign of Pluto. She saw herself in college screaming at a frat boy who shoved her friend at a party. She saw herself in the news studio speaking quietly with one of her coworkers whose husband had been abusing her about how to break free. She saw herself sitting in a hospital room reading a book to her dementia-ridden mother. She saw herself in the bar beside Gehenna calling an ambulance for Bill. And then she saw a flurry of images of things yet to come – of battles, of wins, of losses, of tears, and of laughter.
 
The swirl of visions danced before her eyes, and then they were gone.
 
The blue glow of the water cast a haze over her eyes. Cimmerian was not aware that she had begun crying, but she could not deny the hot tears that traced rivulets down red cheeks. Esabel reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder, but it felt too light, too soft. It only served as another reminder that Cimmerian was alone out here, alone with this burden. Could she talk to Gehenna about this? She had never been good at sharing her personal hardships seriously. She always made it a joke, or a cautionary tale. But if she didn’t talk to someone about it, what would she do with all of this worry and uncertainty?
 
Esabel answered that for her. “If you ever feel overwhelmed, come here. Come to the waters of time and allow yourself to just breathe. I cannot always appear to you, Penelope. My starseed went back to the Space Cauldron a long time ago,” she explained, drawing her face close to Cimmerian’s. “I will only come when you truly need me. This is a quest that you must face on your own, knowing that the safety of the entire universe depends on you. You are a Knight. Like all the women in our bloodline, you were born with the potential to become what you are, but that power was only unlocked when the universe needed you – and when you were ready for it. You would not have called that bow to your hand unless you possessed the soul to bear it. I can promise you that.” A soft smile touched her lips, and Cimmerian allowed it to bring her comfort.
 
Every woman who had ever been born in her bloodline was capable of this? Her mother had spoken to her once about their heritage. For as far back as they had gone, every Figgins woman had been an only daughter and had born only one daughter. There were no sisters or aunts outside of marital ties. This strange happenstance was something that they laughed about over Thanksgiving dinner, not something that she had ever expected had to do with the whims of a cosmos that demanded their service.
 
Something struck Cimmerian as odd. “How old are you? I mean… how long has it been since you awakened until me.” If every woman of their blood could become this, then she thought it odd that she would be the chosen one. Her mother had always been so much nobler, much gentler. Surely she was better suited for this role.
 
Esabel’s smile dimmed. “The Knights are only called when the universe needs our protection. We rise up when the darkness rises so that we can beat it back. Once that blackness is gone, our powers go with it, and the call of Pluto abates until that darkness returns.” Her voice had dropped to a low husk, a foreboding note of worry leaking into her words. It made Cimmerian shift uncomfortably.
 
“I was a Knight of Pluto a thousand years ago, Penelope, during the Silver Millennium,” she said calmly. “And now the mantle of Cimmerian rests on your shoulders, and yours alone.”
 
Cimmerian swallowed hard, digesting the newest wave of startling information.
 
In a thousand years, the service of the Knights had not been needed – until now. From working at DCNN, she knew of the many strange and dangerous things that happened in Destiny City on a daily basis. She knew that people died. She knew that some raved about horrifying monsters that roamed the streets, or worse – those black-clad soldiers that often accompanied them. The reports were so varied that she had no idea whether it was the schoolgirls or the soldiers who fought on behalf of the people of Destiny City, or if the citizens were all just pawns caught up in some gang war.
 
Now she saw that the senshi were her allies, and that something truly evil must be brewing in Destiny City for her to be called. Cimmerian turned to stare up at Esabel. “The universe needs me now, after a thousand years of being just fine without me. Should I even ask what it is that has cooked up this much evil?” There was a tremor of unease in her voice, fear.
 
Esabel stood up, offering a hand to pull Cimmerian to her feet as well. They stood eye-to-eye, different bodies instilled with the same power and the same purpose. “The senshi are warriors of the heart, and we are protectors of it,” she said. One hand reached out to touch lightly at Cimmerian’s chest, hovering over her heartbeat. “We must repel darkness from every part of us. It was a Moon Princess with the purest of hearts that saved us all once, and it is with purity of heart that we must do it again.” Her hand fell back to her side. 

Cimmerian sighed. “That was vague. And it didn’t really answer my question.” She put one hand on her hip.
 
“Pluto has a tendency to bring out the cryptic side in a person,” Esabel said, smiling. “You’ll get used to it.”
 
A pause fell between them. Cimmerian turned to look out into the bottomless blackness that separated her from the place where Kurma had dropped her off. Behind her, Esabel whispered, “He waited for you. Kurma is a good man, Penelope. It’s okay to trust him.” The words brushed against her ear like wind.
 
Cimmerian turned and said, “You’re just full of words of wisdom, aren’t you?” But Esabel was gone, and the glowing pool of water too. All that remained was the blackened skeleton of the tree beside her.
 
Alone in the unending shade, Page Cimmerian took a deep breath and walked, eyes open, out into the blackness of the horizon. She trusted her feet to guide her, and her breathing became even, calm. She had nothing to fear here. The darkness was a part of her, and it expanded in her lungs, filling her with power and purpose. Before long, she saw the dull glow of Kurma’s orb on the horizon and made her way to it. This was her destiny. Esabel had said so. And even if she wasn’t ready to fully accept what that meant, Cimmerian could feel the truth of it in her bones.
 
For now, that was enough.