"The Spirit Of The Place". 


By 


The Heart of the Tiger

(Edited by TrudiRose)

  The ocean was spread out all around them.
  To Eglin, prince of Tartesos, that was something to be enjoyed: the isolation. The sensation of finally being left 
alone. As a prince, he had duties that he had to attend to: dealing with the concerns of his people, talking with 
visiting dignitaries, even trying to smooth relations between warring nations. All while being bombarded with 
several differing problems at once and being chased by an endless army of courtiers and perfumed diplomats. 
  But here, right in the middle of the Eastern Seas, was his little slice of paradise. He stood outside, stretching 
like an awakening cat, feeling the bright sun on his face and the salty sea air fill his lungs, all in this little boat 
in the sea. He stood right behind the large wheel which steered this small, sleek vessel. Behind him was the aft of 
the boat, where three fishing poles stood like sentinels, their lines trailing down in hopes of catching whatever 
bounty the ocean hid. Underneath was a wrapped bundle of fishing nets. The daily harvest was good enough that he didn't 
bother with the nets, but he was a person notorious for planning for anything. He didn't want to risk being stranded 
here in this boat in the seas.
  Or rather above the seas... 
  
  He was never alone. Not that he minded it. He checked his charts, making sure that his headings were correct and that 
they were on course. The boat hovered several meters above the waterline, in waters a bit too choppy for this seemingly 
fragile craft. 
  The trade relations with the faraway kingdom of Agrabah were a boon for both kingdoms, bringing trade as well as 
understanding and friendship. Even though it was normally a six-month journey each way to reach such a grand kingdom, 
Eglin used the time to absorb whatever news from there he could. He kind of had to, actually, since his grandfather, 
Maurice, had immigrated there only a few years ago. Grandfather Maurice, always the consummate scientist and inventor, 
having heard of the many varied devices and mechanical oddities, had vowed a pilgrimage there. Eglin’s parents had 
relented, after a time, and Maurice was soon on his way. His letters, always peppered with new sketches of some newfangled
device or invention, always maintained that child-like wonder for the curious and strange.  But this new thing, this ship,
was something that Eglin was proud of. 

  It was given to them only a few months before, a gift from the Sultan of Agrabah. A flying boat! Or a hovering boat. 
Still, just seeing a small boat just hovering a foot or two above the ground was enough to give people pause. It was 
large by most standards: thirty-five feet long, with Dutch-like sails. Under the decks was enough room for storage, 
provisions, and a cabin for up to four people complete with a galley/workspace. Even with all that, it still had enough 
room for the magical engine that kept it afloat and which also gave off freshwater as a byproduct, perfect for the small 
shower that was installed right next to the cabin. If anything, it could be categorized as a “yacht”. Small, sleek, but 
very fast. According to Maurice's notes, this boat made the trip back home in less then a month's time, as opposed to 
the six-month-or-more trip.
  Ever since receiving it, Eglin had had an almost obsessive fascination for this new craft, watching it from every angle,
 even looking at it at night, when most sane people would have already retired for bed. It was only after exhausting his 
parents that he was allowed to take it out for a trip. 
  Of course, they would have allowed it anyway, if not for their concern over his choice of companionship for this 
particular journey. 
  He saw her coming up the stairs from below decks, and smelled the cups of tea that she brought with her. She was 
dressed in a terrycloth robe. Behind her, trying hard to keep up and struggling to climb up the stairs after her, 
was a small, grey kitten. 
  "Good morning, Sadira,”he greeted her, taking the warm mug from her. 

  If asked, Eglin would have said that Sadira was the greatest import from Agrabah that he had ever laid eyes on. Of 
course, to him, she was. He felt a warm glow inside at the knowledge that they were together... or "seriously dating", 
according to the rumors of the Enchanted Castle's army of servants. He found it amusing; not because it was false, but 
because, for once, a rumor had turned out to be far closer to the truth than expected. 
  She was a sight to behold, from her lithe frame and agile body to her tanned, bronzed complexion and large aqua eyes. 
It was those eyes that caught him, always full of wonder and mirth. When they held hands, he could feel the 
barely-concealed powers that she held within herself. That fireball of physical and emotional energy, not to mention 
the maelstrom of magical energies that she kept in check. She was a self-professed "Witch of the sands" and after 
seeing the awesome powers she held over something as benign as sand, he knew to take her seriously.
  She was enjoying this trip as well. They had been out for only a week, but she had learned to enjoy the relative 
freedom of being out. Which was good. They had both initially worried that she would not be used to such a trip out 
in the ocean, considering that she had spent almost her entire life in a desert kingdom. But she had adapted and 
even learned to love it. 
  They had made stops at a few coastal ports, taking on a few more supplies and provisions. It was there that Sadira 
found herself a new friend, the kitten. It was a small, fragile-looking thing, grey with dark stripes. On one front paw, 
it had seven tiny toes instead of five.

  A boy-beast, a sand witch and a seven-toed kitten.... Somehow, Eglin was tempted to name the ship something along the 
lines of "Vessel of Freaks". 

  Below decks, Sadira dabbled in a quite a few interests. Experimenting with cooking, for one, in which Eglin was the 
unfortunate victim/test subject. Somehow, Eglin thought that his beastly origins were the main reason why his appendix 
hadn't already burst from her over-cooked, charcoaled cooking. But he gave a kind word and a kinder smile as he (literally)
choked down every bite. Gradually, she was improving. She was a lovely woman with a kind soul and a clever mind. But for 
whatever virtues a person had, Eglin knew that there must be a vice as a trade-off. In Sadira's case, she was just not a 
good cook. 
  Another virtue was using the workspace to practice and experiment more with her magic, infusing commonplace objects with
sand magic for a variety of uses. She even had a few commissionedpieces to be made, commissionedby Galen, their mutual 
friend and self-avowed protector of Jeanette - for one, a rapier infused with sand magic. 
  She had even lent a hand in creating a few powerful wards for the ship for the times when they were in port and some 
curious wanderer would try to board the ship. Somehow, she had made them so the wards would not do anything to Eglin, 
herself, or the kitten. But woe be to those who tried to walk on uninvited. Just thinking about it was enough to make 
the fur on the back of Eglin's neck stand up. He knew she was powerful, but he never dared to ask her about how powerful 
she really was. 
  She had just checked the engine below decks, making sure to keep fresh water pumped into it. A strange amber jewel held 
within a heavy metal and glass cage, this was what gave the ship the ability to float and fly. All it required was to be 
immersed in salt water (which the oceans had plenty of) and it would work. And secret fresh water was a byproduct. 

  The first two days had gone by with an almost romantic air. The nights they'd spend laying down on the decks, staring 
at the stars in darkness. The candlelit dinners that Eglin cooked and prepared for her, using whatever he had caught from 
the fishing lines moments earlier. And the almost hyperactive, incoherent ramblings of Eglin as he continued to prattle 
on about how such a vessel would be a great use for Tartesos in terms of trade and colonization. So far, their colonies 
were the few that were most content with their "Parent" nation, with no desire to break away or declare independence. 

  After a time, they finally settled on being themselves: settling on a set routine, sticking with it and generally having
a good time with themselves. Both found humor in his parents concern. She suspected that their main concern was that they 
might return from this journey with her already carrying his child. They talked about family. Both agreed that it was too 
soon for them. They were still young with plenty of years left to share together. 
  "Marriage first," Sadira would say in mock sternness, which brought about more gales of laughter, since it reminded them
too much of Cogsworth; the imitation was passable enough for people to notice and understand the joke. Whenever they needed 
to imitate someone they felt was an over-oppressive hand of protocol and discipline, they mocked Cogsworth at 
any opportunity. 

  So far, this ship was just a small nugget of what they were expecting to see in the future, though Eglin never pretended
to understand it; all he knew was that his parents had made some sort of agreement with the Royal Family in Agrabah. 
Sadira had lent a helping hand in the agreement, which called for more of these ships, only larger - the size of galleons,
meant for trade, mainly. From what he had heard, the first two, trade ships, were already completed. The third one, 
"the destroyer", was meant for protection and defense. 
  "Of course, Galen would call it that,” Sadira had snorted about it before. "I was told that he had a hand in making it."
  "Just the weapons," Eglin had replied mildly. But he could understand her concern. On one level, he could understand 
Galen's determination to protect the family, namely Jeanette. But sometimes, he suspected that Galen's determination was 
fueled by something else more powerful and primal. Like madness. Which could be a good thing to have on your side. Than 
again, he wasn’t sure if he would want it on anyone's side. 
  Like that rapier that Galen had commissioned. The one that Sadira was almost finished with. 
  The kitten, which Sadira had named Noah, had adapted quickly to her new surroundings: learning to sway with the ship 
with each gust of wind that struck them amidships; learning to enjoy fish, even abovedecks, sitting on the railing; her 
head hanging overboard, keeping watch of the fishing lines below; and much to their surprise, learning to do "her 
necessary business" without a litterbox by perching her bottom over the edge of the deck.
  "Maybe she was given a larger brain," Eglin commented, smiling. "After all, Nature given her two extra toes. Why not 
something else upstairs?" 

  "So, where should we venture to now?" Eglin said in a booming, majestic voice. 
  They both had something to offer on this trip. Eglin had the resources and Sadira had the untapped potential. And now, 
it was her turn to pick a destination, a direction. Since this was just a test-run, they had plenty of options to choose 
from. It was late afternoon and dusk was approaching. The sky above them was a lovely pastel canvas of pinks and violets, 
interspersed with soft flecks of gold. 
  She paused to consider. She didn't need a bunch of maps in front of her to show how indecisive she was right now. So 
many choices and she was overwhelmed by the need, the desire, to pick one. She had heard of ancient ruins in an island 
not too far from where they were right now - ancient ruins on a small island that was abandoned long ago, never colonized 
for whatever reasons. She suspected that those ruins may hold magic of some sort, even an artifact or two. Eglin wouldn't 
really approve, of course. He was still inwardly cautious and wary of the magical and mystical, and the way they could - 
or would - turn against people in an instant. But then, she didn't really need to tell him that the island had mystic 
ruins. 
  She unfolded a small map she kept in her pocket and showed him the small spot of land where she wanted to go. 
  He nodded and started to unfurl the sails. And with a huge burst of energy, the ship surged forwards. 

 Eglin had a mind for math, sciences, and the arts - for just about anything that involved ingenuity and cleverness. His 
workspace was right next to Sadira's; appropriate since it used the same desk space. They had just divided it in half 
and Eglin took one side and she the other. Eglin's space had books and parts aplenty: gears and springs and winders of 
every sort, enough to make a few small clocks. Cogs served as paperweights, holding down huge sheets of butcher paper, 
which he uses to sketch his designs and ideas. 
  Behind him, Noah was napping, sleeping blissfully atop Eglin's bunk, her tiny form huddled into a ball against one of 
his pillows. He thought of a nap and knew that he would half-awake to the sensation of her batting her tiny paws against 
his ear. Or worse, playing with his tail if it were to hang over the bunk if he turned over in his sleep. It was something
he was far too used to. 
  He had estimated that, normally, it would take a ship over a week to reach that special island. He nodded in 
satisfaction. At the rate of speed they were going, they could be there in only three days or less. It would give him 
time to work on a few more ideas and inventions, and continue his lengthy, time-consuming correspondences with several 
dozen people - mostly professors and mutual-minded scholars from universities abroad. Though he sometimes wondered if 
their interest in him was merely for his royal bloodlines and his unique beastly nature, he trusted his instincts enough 
to take their interest in him at face value. 
  Pencil in hand, he paused, remembering the events of his life. Sometimes he wondered if he tried too hard to look 
innocuous and harmless. With his wiry strength and his sharp claws, he could easily overpower many men at one time. 
It was a wonder why girls from abroad had taken a liking to him, even pursuing romantic intentions. Some would say that 
it was his overly good humor and laid-back nature that kept the cynicism from eating away at him. 
  One such letter was from a puzzle-maker, a master of wit and word games who fed Eglin's passion for both. He loved the 
cleverness of spoken or written language, the way a single line could misdirect and enchant like a magic show which, as 
he knew, relied on misdirection, distraction and surprise.. 
  He was about finished highlighting his new idea when he felt something from outside. Just a strange instinct that he 
had learned to rely on. Setting down his pencil, he ventured outside. Typical, he thought. No one understands a master's 
need for silence and privacy when he's practicing his craft. 

  Sadira was sitting at the bow of the ship, her frame covered by a large knitted comforter, her legs tucked underneath. 
She repressed another chill from the cold night air as she fiddled with the thick brass tube in her hands. She held it up 
to her eye and peered within. The spyglass worked well. With her other hand, she fiddled with a brass coin. By reflex and 
training, she had it flip over and over across her knuckles before disappearing under her closed fist. She'd open it and 
her palms were empty. Then she would close it again and have the coin mysteriously push out of her hand and the cycle 
would repeat itself. 
  She saw it almost at once: a large shape on the horizon, almost cloaked by the dark waters and the rolling night that 
was fast approaching them. 
  She heard Eglin getting up from his chair, heard the whisper of cloth as he rubbed the small of his back, obviously 
numb from the time he had just sat there, almost never moving. She heard the whisper of his furry tail brushing against 
the back of his slacks and the wood creaking as he walked up the stairway. 
  "It's a ship," she said as she handed him the spyglass.
  This kind of ship Eglin had seen before, But only in drawings and sketches, never in person. It was a brigantine, 
usually meant for warfare, but sometimes converted for trade or moving colonists to new lands abroad. But there were some 
more noticeable differances. The hull was painted pitch black. Even the sails were dyed. And worse, blazoned across the 
main sail was the coat of arms of the Nation of Montangue. In spite of how much the occupants had tried to conceal their 
ship, to hide it in the darkness of the night, they were also vain enough to have their coat of arms hand-stitched with 
gold threads. 
  "Great," Eglin moaned. 

  Nothing much happened for two hours. A silent standoff commenced as the ship floated and circled the Brigantine. They 
moved at great distance, farther then their cannons and guns could reach. The Montangues had been rivals of Tartesos for 
years, trying to subvert or conquer them through trade or political alliances, and more then a few dirty tricks. Eglin 
would much rather have nothing to do with that nation, hearing the nasty stuff the royal family there had done. 
  Two hours. No lights, no movements. Nothing. Everything felt closed-off and abandoned. The ship drifted, its sails 
half-furled. 
  "Eglin," Sadira started. "I think-" 
  "I know," Eglin replied. 
  If this was a trap, it would've been sprung by now. He did not move from where he was sitting, his eyes never leaving 
the spyglass. Sadira had to maneuver the craft now. She overcompensated, as expected, but still managed. Her hands 
twitched a bit as she gripped the wheel. 
  Then, much to his surprise, he saw something. No, sensed it first, and then his acute eyes caught it only a split 
second later. Sadira would've missed it. Bur Eglin's eyes were far sharper then humans. 
  Movement. On the foredeck of the other. One person. Spread eagle on the wood deck, lying flat on his back. Barely alive.
And just out of the man's reach, a small knife embedded into the wood deck. 
  "Sadira," he said slowly, trying to make sense of it himself. "There is someone still alive down there." "Part of the 
crew?" she wondered. 
  But something in him told him differently. Something gnawed at him inside. It could still be a trap. Or it could be 
something else entirely.
  "Bag it or try for it," Eglin suggested. He could feel her apprehension. That balance between curiosity and fear. The 
instinct to help a wounded stranger, and yet the suspicion that it could be a trap, using their own compassion against 
them. 
  "I'll take it on," Sadira said finally. 
  Eglin did not smile as she angled their ship closer to the other ship. 

  It felt strange walking on the decks of a larger ship, one that was still held up by the waters below. Strange and 
ultimately disconcerting. Sadira had taken only five steps forward when she clutched her stomach and felt her entire body 
racked with pain. Eglin, sensing it, reacted, gripping her arm with his hand to ask what was the matter with her, fearing 
sickness or something else. 
  She pushed him aside and ran to the side of the ship, gripping the railing with an iron grip, and vomited loudly. 
  Guess I'll cook tonight, Eglin thought, trying to keep the joy of such a thought out of his expression. If he smiled, 
and she noticed , he could end up sleeping abovedecks for the rest of the journey... 
  He merely turned his gaze away, to spare her embarrassment. He kept his eyes scanning the area around him. It was 
unsettling. No lamps lit. No bustling of activity. Even at night, a ship is still a blur of activity and noise. But there 
was just the sound of Eglin's soft footsteps, the sounds the ship made as it swayed in the breeze, and Sadira venting 
out her seasickness. 
  A check of the ship proved that it was in perfect condition. With a crew, it could be returned to whatever duties it 
was tasked for. But for whatever reason, Eglin blanched at the notion of such a ship as this working under their flag 
or anyone else’s. 
  He moved swiftly but silently. He moved around barefoot, his eyes scanning the floor in front of him for traps, for 
anything that would indicate an ambush. His eyes were keen, but not as trained as Galen's for that sort of thing . But 
he had removed a few poacher's traps from his many long walks in the forests around his home. He moved, lighting lamps 
as he did, and even borrowed one to better light his way.
  The captain's cabin was silent as a tomb. It was over-decorated to the point of gaudiness; almost everything was gilded
and reeked of fortune and decadence. It offended Eglin's conservative, practical nature. The harsh light of the handheld 
lamp reflected the gold decor and made his eyes ache. He stopped only to retrieve the Captain’s and ship's log and 
departed, making sure to close the door behind him tight. 

  Sadira was the first to approach the lone survivor. She crouched down and cradled the man's head in her hands. Eglin 
saw it and felt his body tense up, ready to attack if the man should come alive and attack her. "Hello," she gently 
prodded. "We are here to help you." 
  The man’s eyes fluttered open, slowly moving back and forth, as if confused about where he was. He soon focused on her, 
and the large man-beast standing behind her. If he recognized her, his face gave no sign of it.
  He tried to speak but couldn't. His throat was dry, his lips cracked and bleeding. He looked unnaturally pale and thin, 
the sign of someone who had not seen drank water or eaten food in days. 
  "We will take care of you," she said, trying to keep the nervous tremor out of her voice. "What happened?" 
  “You...” the man started, sounding shocked. “You are real. Real.”
  "...Island," the man managed. "Rumors. Captain... wanted to see.... terrible, terrible..."
  "The rest of the crew?" Eglin put in. 
  "Dead," the man managed, and even that looked like it was enough to exhaust him. "One hundred seventy strong. Dead."
  "What happened?" Sadira demanded, panic in her voice now. She shook the man's head, trying in vain to keep him alive 
and conscious just long enough to tell them what had happened. "What happened to them?" 
  But it was not enough. The man had long been close to death when they arrived. Nothing they could have done would have 
done much to save this poor soul. He died, finally faded away to nothing as his body slumped in her arms. His head felt 
heavier in her hands and she finally laid him down. 
  "Guess he didn't have time," Eglin said. 
  Sadira nodded. She felt an unnatural tingling covering her body, like a thousand fleas scurrying over her exposed skin. 
She wanted to scratch all over herself to get rid of the sensations. 
  Then Eglin shone his light on something to the body's side. That thing that had gotten Eglin thinking as he saw it 
through the spyscope only a few moments earlier. 
  That knife, sticking out of the deck, and something else. He wondered what.
  He shone the light and saw the answer. 
  A crude message, etched poorly into the varnished wood deck. Very crude and very shallow, since the man had lacked 
physical strength at the time 
  Two words: "Genius Loci".

  "What happened to him?" Eglin wondered aloud, wondering what had overtaken this strange ship. 
  "I know what happened to him," Sadira replied. There was now a twinge of sadness in her voice, from someone who knew 
from previous experience. "He starved to death. I've seen it happen before. He just... starved to death. Dehydrated, 
too." 
  Now things were really starting to confuse him. And it showed from the distinct way his brow creased. A strange habit 
that he had inherited from both his father and his grandfather - an amusing irony not lost on his mother. 
  "Well, that's very interesting." He tried to sound indifferent, but now came across as sounding sarcastic. But 
everything here still bothered him. Nothing made sense. And when she saw that confused, frustrated look, he told her. 
  The ship's cargo hold was still full of food. Barrels of fresh water still lined the bulkheads. 
  "So here's a very good question," Eglin asked aloud. "How does a man starve to death on a ship full of food?" 

  The island was a lush green pile right in the center of the blue ocean. From where they were, there was no sign of 
villages or settlements, nothing that showed that people had moved into such a paradise. Even from this distance, they 
could see the massive trees, over thirty feet high, that formed most of the island. 
  For two days, they had made the journey to this place, determined to figure out the mystery of the ill-fated ship they 
had left behind. The ship, they had abandoned for now. After dropping the ship's anchor and making note of its location 
for future salvage, they decided to make their way to that island, which was also the very island Sadira had wanted to 
visit. It bothered her that that Montangue ship had probably had the same reasons for going there as she did. 
  Reading the logs offered no real clues. The captain had been either very cautious or very paranoid . He had written 
in a kind of code or script that Eglin could not decipher, no doubt to keep prying eyes from reading. 
  The ship's log, records found in the ship, proved much more valuable. It indicated that the captain had been ordered 
to this site, an expedition fueled by local legends and the Montangues' desires for more power. Conventional armies had 
proven useless against the finely trained riders of Tartesos (And, as some suspected, the infulence of the Enchanted 
Castle itself). The records also showed that this dark ship was built solely for stealth, and for acquiring new magical 
artifacts. This ship was so secret that it was denied a given name. Just a number: Seven. The first dinghies had set 
down to scout the area, and had summoned the rest only days later, until soon they were all down here, leaving the ship 
to run on its own until one dying sailor had struggled back alone.
  Sadira, on the other hand, was getting her self-confidence back, and learning to steer the ship better now. She still
overcompensated, but not as badly as before. Noah stood at her usual post abovedecks: guarding the fishing poles and 
mewing loudly whenever the lines caught something. 
  "I'm taking her down," Sadira said. Eglin had no reason to question her or tell her otherwise. 
  The boat lacked a rudder like her waterbound counterparts had. So all that had to be done was to tweak the settings 
that lined the steering column and adjust the output from the crystal engine to lower the ship to the water or to shore. 
The ship descended gracefully, finally touching down on the sandy shore that lined the island. She set the boat down with 
only a few bumps. 
  After locking down the ship and checking their knapsacks for supplies, they stepped out onto the beach. Noah, sensing 
danger, chose to remain inside below decks. Seeing her shivering while hiding behind a stack of Sadira's pillows was 
enough proof for them. Sadira didn't mind. The wards were powerful enough to deflect anything that had hostile intentions
towards them. Or so she explained to Eglin. 
  Thick forests, the tall trees a shade of green so dark they were almost black, formed a dark canopy above them. Behind 
them were the beach, the shores and the oceans beyond. Wind was the only sound that drifted across the field to them.
  Sadira was the first to see it. A barely-tangible presence in the area - hard to pinpoint, but still there, just off 
to the distance, like some wavering form that chose to stand just beyond the edge of her eyesight. She kept the long, 
narrow tube that she had taken with her close to her, never setting it down for any reason. Eglin thought of it as just 
a walking stick of sorts. But once again, he felt that somehow, he might be wrong about that.
  Eglin let his vision extend to the line of trees, sensing for anything that might be watching them, trusting in his 
inborn beastly instincts to guide-and protect- him and his beloved. He was never resentful of who or what he was. He 
accepted it; he had to. In his view, he had little choice in the matter. 
  He felt nothing and saw nothing. Nothing except that strange twilight underneath the canopy of trees, with only a few 
lone rays of sunlight that had managed to break through the dense coverings above. 
  "It's safe," he said. "For now, at least."
  "You sure?" Sadira asked. 
  "Actually, it's not 'for now'," Eglin replied jokingly. "Perhaps safe for here, for this place, would be better, since 
there seems to be no one about. If we go where there would be others, whether 'now' or 'later', then it will not be safe.
Yes ... 'for now' works on the surface, but for here would be a much more accurate -"
  Sadira shook her head, feigning annoyance. Word games and logic-twists were Eglin's subtle way of breaking the tension. 
It helped to keep him in focus, to keep the fear at bay. She said nothing as she tried to suppress her smile and started 
walking across the beach, that tube in hand, glancing left and right as she went. Eglin smiled himself. Some habits died 
hard. What did someone like Sadira need a weapon for, when she, with her powerful magic, was already a weapon?
  Eglin had never found a use for a gun. He knew how to use one, but was loathe to hold one in his hand for longer then a 
second. He was apt as an archer, but for all his pre-planning and fore-thought, he had never thought of a situation where 
he would need his archery set on a flying boat. For now, he was content to make use of his natural defenses: brute 
strength, sharp claws and a razor-sharp wit. 
  He moved quickly to follow, hoping for another opportunity to split hairs with her; getting that look was half the 
fun of the journey. After all, he surmised that the verbal jousting matches more than made their relationship 
worthwhile... right up to the point where they could degenerate to actual physical combat... 

  They walked into darkness. 
  All in all, it reminded Eglin of his summer trips into Haven, a small retreat built into a small canyon, complete with 
a working waterfall. His father, Connor, had converted it into a huge hanging garden display - a personal project that 
had taken years to accomplish. And what a sight it was: a canyon seven stories into the ground with a waterfall, and 
almost cliff and rock face covered with wall-side dwellings and plant life; a small colony of artisans and gypsies living 
in the caves, tending to the crops; artisans carving and polishing marble figures right from the rock face itself. The 
bottom-most sections were the most fun for him: a rough stream of clear, pure water and plants and crops chest high or 
higher. 
  Here, it was different. The plant life was chest high. But he didn't relish its touch. He instead felt an odd sense of 
revulsion at it brushing against his body, his exposed body and even the thick vest he wore. If forced to explain why he 
felt such strong emotions, all he could have managed was that nothing here "felt right". 
  Sadira fared better navigating through this dense foliage and now Eglin knew why. That long metal tube that she carried 
was nothing more then a hidden rapier and scabbard. Galen's commissionedproject had now become Sadira's tool. How strange 
it was to see her with a bladed weapon, since she was much more accustomed to a quarterstaff. But she moved with fluidity,
drawing out the rapier and slicing and hacking away at the thick plants in her path. No paths were visible, so they had to
 pick through the thick roots and vines that grew so close together that at times they could only walk in single file. 
Eglin chose to watch the rear, a comment that drew a wry smirk from Sadira before she turned and resumed her hacking. 
  An hour into the exodus into this dark place, they had seen nothing that could be of any possible interest ... no 
cities, no people, and no sign of the hundred-plus Montangue crew who came here and, presumably, died here. 
 "Eglin?"
  He stirred from his reverie and realized that he had lost sight of Sadira. He looked around for the source of her 
voice. "Sadira?"
  "Eglin?" The voice came again, but smaller this time, more distant. He ran toward the sound of it, calling her name. But
she was nowhere to be found.
  Ah, no! Eglin thought. He cursed himself for getting so lost in thought that he could lose sight of her. He believed 
she could take care of herself under almost any circumstance, probably better than he could himself, but - 
  But it was only for a split-second, he thought. 
  He stopped at the sound of a voice. It was not Sadira's, but someone else's. It called to him not in any foreign tongue,
but in his own language. 
  "Who are you?" the voice asked. 
  "Prince Eglin of Tartesos," he answered, going as far as to bow humbly. "And who are you? If I may ask, of course."
  "Who do you think I am?" the voice asked back. 
  "Right now?" Eglin replied, calling out. He kept his hands up, an universal gesture of peace and good intentions. "A 
voice from the trees. But if that voice just happens to belong to a person, then I would very much like to meet him."
  A form stepped out of the trees, and that was enough to make Eglin flinch. For some reason, someone had moved around 
and Eglin had failed to notice it. It bothered him and he made the mistake of letting it show.
   male stepped into the half-light, dressed in the simple clothes of a peasant, perhaps a farmer. "Lochly," he said, 
imitating the same formal bow that Eglin had just given earlier. "Pronounced, 'Low-Key. And we are honored to have you 
among us, Prince Eglin." 

  "Eglin?!"
  Sadira called again for Eglin again, but there was no answer from the forest that pressed in around her. She scanned 
the area, but couldn't pick up even the whisper of his movements.
  Rats! she thought. How could he have gotten so far away that she couldn't feel or hear him, even without a clear line 
of sight? He had just... vanished. 
  It's this forest, she thought at first. Has to be! She bit down on that. Bit down hard, trying to keep the rising panic 
away. 
  She moved thought a thick strand of trees, chopping plants and anything obtrusive as she pressed onwards. she stopped 
at a clearing, a large clearing next to a pool of clear water. Right next to that pool was what looked like a small 
village. 
  She moved closer, keeping that rapier close at hand. She felt uncertain, and now afraid. At a distance to her left, 
she saw several people - mostly young men and a woman - working a small plot of ground that might eventually become a 
garden. They looked up as she approached. 
  But it was the way they looked her that bothered her. For some unknown reason to her right now, there was that familiar
"not right" feeling. That one feeling that preceded the onset of great harm or danger. 
  "Have you come to take us back?" one male called out. With care, he set down his plow and tried to stand up. She could 
hear the bones in his back snapping as he managed. She winced. 
  "No," She said, shaking her head.
  He stood, joined by the others. "Then you're welcome to stay." He managed to offer her a formal bow. 
  No, she thought, her sense of danger rising, not formal - familiar. Very familiar. And yet she did not know why. And 
that alone bothered her. 
  "What is this place?" she managed. 
  "Home," the woman answered back. "Freedom. A land of our own at last."
  Home.

  Galen would've loved this, Eglin thought as he was led into the village up ahead, looking at the small series of huts 
that had been constructed deep in the forest. He saw and instantly knew why they had not seen them from the boat. They 
were built of native material and carefully camouflaged to conceal them from prying eyes. Huge nets of vines and plants 
covered the huts above. Smaller nets dangled just below, as if to catch and contain rainwater. 
  As they entered the village, they passed other people who emerged from huts and the line of surrounding trees to study 
the newcomer.
  "Yep, see the new wildlife." Eglin replied, trying to keep some good humor in his voice, seeing the dozens of faces 
peering at him through their windows and doorways. 
  "What are all of you doing here?" Eglin asked his companion, as if wanting to make small talk.
  "We are the only survivors of a Montangue slave ship that crashed here after a typhoon three years ago," Lochly 
explained. "We built this place out of the wilderness and hoped that one day we might be found and returned home, so that
we could be allowed to resume our lives."
  "Oh, I sympathize," Eglin said. "About ten years ago, they invaded my kingdom again a second time. We drove them from 
our home. They haven't done another one since. But we know they would if they could."
  "Invasion," Lochly said, as though the word has special meaning to him. "Yes, I know all about that as well. Is it 
possible? After so long...?"
  "Possible, and real," Eglin said. "I was ..." he stopped, did not choose to say, I saw terrible things. He had seen 
bad things, things that gave him nightmares years later. He could even remember that memorable scene of his older sister
and a younger Galen. Galen, nine years of age, and shot twice in the chest, lying on the floor with a weeping Jeanette 
holding him from behind, right on that bridge that led to the Castle, his home. A smoking flintlock pistol laying just 
beyond Galen's limp fingers. 
  "I was very young, but I saw enough," he finished.
  "Bless you," Lochly said. "The elder will be pleased."
  "The elder?"
  "Yes. That is who I'm taking you to see," he said, and indicated a hut in the center of the village, larger than the 
rest, but no more ornate. If anything, it looked like any other hut. 
  "Afterward, there will be a feast in your honor. For bringing us this news, for offering us the chance to return home, 
you shall be hailed a hero." 

  Eglin shrugged, trying to suppress a small groan. Was this his lot, to be forever elevated above what he felt was his 
position? Were people so quick to find heroes these days that they would choose someone who just happened to stumble 
onto their existence? It was bad enough that ignorant people thought of him as a monster and intellectuals thought of 
him as some sort of zoological discovery, or some sort of defect.
  Every time he thought he had answers to his eternal questions figured out, something like this happened to him.
  And perhaps that is the point, he considered. After all, it was humorous to him, The irony of living in a village 
where parents might fear and hate him, but children adored him as a friend, a protector and an oversized teddy bear. 
  "Aside from your people, are there any others here?" he asked as they approached the elder's hut.
  Lochly paused for a moment a long moment, before answering. "I would not be surprised," he said simply . 

  Sadira came out into another clearing where makeshift huts had been erected. She recognized people from many nations. 
Some of them, she recalled from her long journey from Agrabah to Tartesos. 
  In the lake, she could see a trio of teenage boys spearfishing. A gaggle of small children sat to the side, cleaning 
fish and throwing whatever was left back into the lake. It was an idyllic scene as she looked around. Lepers, bound in 
swatches of leaves as bandages, chatted as they worked to mend a thatched roof. A couple of women were gathering spices 
that had grown on the side of a few huts, hunched low to whisper secrets and gossip as friends and housewives do in 
every civilization throughout time.
  “Are they all trapped here?” Sadira asked. 
  Her companion nodded. On their way here he had said his name was Ares.
  "How do you all get along?"
  "By respecting one another's privacy. There are no police or guards here, because we would have no trust in each other 
if such were so. We are free from rules or regulations, laid down by the powerful and the corrupt. And because we respect
one another, and have to for our own mutual survival, this is a place where people from all corners of the world can 
gather and be safe."
  "What about the crew of the ship that came here?"
  He stopped, his brow creasing a bit. "You know about that?"
  But that special, distinct way he creased his brow set off more alarms in Sadira's mind. 
  Danger here! 
  "We found it floating dead in the water. Derelict."
  He nodded again. "They heard this was a sanctuary from the kind of persecution they represent, and they came to take 
us back with them as their slaves."
  "What happened?"
  "We resisted. And when the others aboard saw what we had here, the kind of life we had created for ourselves, most of 
them joined us."
 Don't contradict him. Her internal warnings went off. She felt it. Ares was accommodating, even pleasant, as a host 
should be - almost too much so. If they were that afraid of being enslaved again, she would have expected a lot of 
distrust, even hostility: guards, sentries, traps. Instead, she felt none of that, and that bothered her. 
  "The survivor we found said this was a terrible place. He said his crew were all dead."
  But she did not feel Ares get angry or tense as she told her tale - or rather, part of it. She expected a retort and 
defense or even an attack. But Ares only smiled sadly, a small, sad smile as he turned to face her. 
  "Freedom is always terrible to those who would impose their will on others. As I said, most of them joined us. The 
rest struck off on their own, thinking that if we were here, then others must be as well. They hoped to find another 
group they could enlist in their cause. Last I heard, they were lost and running out of supplies. 
  "The survivor you found probably said what he said in hopes of convincing others to come here in force. I can imagine 
how easy it would be to believe a story like that."
  He looked over at her, saw the expression on her face, saw that she did appear to believe him. He smiled. "Some of 
those who joined us are away hunting or foraging, but you'll find most of the rest here. They'll confirm what I told 
you if you have any doubts."
  She smiled back, keeping her smile firm and genuine. Inwardly, she was praying that she would not falter, that her 
eyes would not slip. 
  "It's not that I doubt you, Aries," she replied, using the most sincere, honest tone she could manage, even as she 
felt her heart pounding against her chest, the blood rushing through her veins. "It's just that I've never heard of a 
whole ship of slavers changing sides like that before."
  There were no chains belowdecks! she fairly screamed within. Eglin would've seen it, would've told me about it. I 
would've known about it. 
  "Meaning it could have happened, and you've simply never heard about it ... or the world we've carved out for ourselves 
is far more attractive than even we realized."
  "Maybe so," she said, looking around. This was the kind of environment in which she had dreamed of spending her days, 
a place of safety and mutual respect. Something that she felt whenever she was with Eglin.
  "One other thing," she said. "I had a companion with me when I landed, a...friend. His name's Eglin. We got separated 
in the forest. We've been though a lot together, and he means a lot to me." She had finally confessed it, letting her 
emotions slip out her feelings towards Eglin, and her awareness that those same feelings were reflected back on her. 
To her, such love was like poising two mirrors against one another, the image reflecting back and forth towards infinity.
It almost made her blush thinking about it. 
  "I'd hate to lose him; he means so much to me. If you could send out a scouting party to look for him -"
  "Of course," he said, waving his hand at her. "I'm sure he'll turn up. Meanwhile, would you like something to eat? You 
must be starved after all that walking."

  The elder looked like a wizard from some old children's tome, the kindly wizard who would pore over his grimoires and 
tell moral lessons to immoral children. He sat crosslegged in front of a warm fire as Eglin entered. A tripod stood over
the fire and held up a steaming pot of stew.
  In front of the doorway, across from the elder, was a sitting mat and a tray of food, preparations for their honored 
guest. Eglin noticed the spread and was impressed as he sat before the small fire where the elder half lay, half sat. 
The elder considered his guest with bold eyes. Eglin sat down and just waited patiently, choosing to return the stare 
that the elder was giving him. "You do not eat, Honored Prince," The Elder said.
  "In due time," Eglin replied lightly. He waved his hands at his host's plate. "In my country, it is rude for the guest
to eat before the host, honored or not." 
  The elder bowed his head in respect to this bit of trivial etiquette and moved to eat the fruits. Moved, but didn't. 
Instead, me merely plucked a strawberry from the pile and fiddled with it. Making the strawberry dance across his knuckles
in a agile move. 
  Eglin's expression faltered, but only for a split-second before he regained it. He knew that if the elder suspected 
anything wrong now, things would go wrong fast. He knew that move. Had seen it done a hundred times before. 
  "You have questions."
  At that, Eglin smiled. "Constantly," he replied. "Few things in this world would please me more than to stumble across 
a real answer from time to time, but that does not appear to be a likely possibility."
  "Then perhaps you are intended to be an answer for others, rather than to have answers given to you by others."
  Well, it's far better then being a fur blanket for Le Emperor Montangue's bed as he so boldly declared and vowed, Eglin 
thought mildly. To which Eglin ignored, rather showing the world that he was not insulted nor intimidated. And to show 
that he had a great level of self-control. With his great strength and sharp claws, he knew that he had to be careful 
with his emotions. 
  "I don't understand," Eglin admitted.
  "As the eldest among us, I have led our people here since we were freed from captivity by the storm. But I am not well; 
I do not believe I will survive the coming winter."
  "I am sorry."
  "Do not be. My only regret was that I had not yet found someone who could lead my people, guide them in creating a new 
world for themselves here."
  "Don't you want to return to your homeland?" Eglin asked, compassion in his voice. But yet, that same tingling in his 
inner senses was there: that same unsettling feeling that something was wrong and he could not put his finger on what, 
the one that told him to duck and he would instantly, and would feel the air shift above him from a rock hurled at him 
at a distance. Something was wrong here. "Serve your people there? Have these people return to their families, to their 
lives?" 
  The elder paused, seeming considering. "At first, that was all we dreamed of. But in truth, we will always be a target 
for our enemies, who only see us as a resource to be exploited, slaves to work their fields and their mines. To let 
anyone leave would be to risk this place being exposed to them. It would be our ultimate revenge to create a place totally
unknown to everyone, so that if one day our people are attacked again - if our homes should fall - our people could rise 
from the ashes here in this secret place and fight to reclaim our home and avenge our people."
  Eglin smiled and paused. Somehow - he wasn’t sure how - he knew that everything up to now had been something akin to a 
magic show: smoke and mirrors, distractions and misdirections. 
  He picked up one of the fruits on the table and looked at it. It looked, felt, and smelled like a kiwi. He considered 
it
 for what seemed a long time before he finally spoke. "Well, then," he said, feeling something gaining momentum around 
him. He felt an odd sense of something... powerful, of something great that he was now becoming a part of. "I guess I 
have only one other question." 
  The elder smiled. "Just one?"
  "Yes." Eglin smiled his usual devil-may-care smile. He settled down a bit. In an odd way, he even seemed... relaxed. He 
leaned forwards towards the fire and fixed the elder with a gaze. 
  "Who are you?" he asked. "Who are you ... really?"

  "...and that was the last we saw of our ship." The man speaking had identified himself as Nathan Delcuire, first officer
of the Montangues Imperial Navy ship "Seven" that had been found dead and derelict only two days prior. He had the uniform
(now kept in a box beneath a crude wooden bunk) and the notarized, ornate documents to prove it.
 Others had been assembled around a lone dinghy that they used as a meeting area, serving as their own town square. Each 
confirmed the others’ , just as Ares had promised. So far the place seemed to be everything it was advertised to be.
  He was the twentieth person that Sadira had to question about it. She did not like to pry into people's personal lives 
and it embarrassed her to do so, a strong emotion that she could not contain as she asked question after question. 
  Ares was patient and never intruded, even offering a kind word for her actions. His only stipulation was that she leave
her rapier outside of their town's border.
  "This is a place of peace and harmony," he warned her. "We have no need for weapons except for hunting. You will be 
allowed to pursue your task, but you must leave your weapon behind." 
  The rapier was now standing a good thirty feet away from her, propped upright against a worn wooden bench. 
  So far, everything she was told seemed to fit well together. 
  And yet ... and yet there was something that troubled her. And that was the problem; how well everything she was told 
fit together. Perhaps it was the odd way in which their stories so closely corroborated one another. For all their 
ability, people were no more perfect or consistent no matter how long they lived and worked together. They all saw things 
in different ways, at different times, and interpreted those things in uniquely personal ways.
  Yet all the stories she had been told since arriving had a curious sameness about them ... as if they had been coached, 
or ...
  She frowned and took a bite from another of the exotic-looking fruits in the bowl in front of her. It was delicious, 
but she felt scarcely less hungry than when she had eaten the first one. However, that was a minor matter; something 
here wasn't adding up, and she couldn't put her finger on it. And that was the problem as well. 
  They had had a large breakfast this morning before arriving on the island. In less then two hours, it would be late 
afternoon and dusk would soon approach, which meant that she had missed out on lunch. With her active lifestyle, she 
usually had to eat regularly to keep up her reserves of energy. And yet as she ate, she still felt a bit hungry. She ate 
more then her fair share of fruit and she did not feel full from it. Exotic foods that should pain her stomach but didn't.
  You know what to do about it, she thought to herself. What only you can do. She shook her head. That she could do it 
wasn't the issue; she didn't want to do it. She could, but... she was afraid that she could be wrong. But not as much as
she feared being right.
  But under the circumstances, she couldn't see any other solution.
  With her magical abilities, Sadira could control sand. Not just desert sand, but any kind of sand. Even dust, to a 
limited degree. Sand was sand, and she could mold and model it to be anything that she needed it to be, from a barrier 
to a shield, to even a weapon, if need be. The thought did not cheer her; this place, if it was what it appeared, embodied
all the things she said she believed in, all the things she believed she was fighting for ... a place where the rights of
all people would be respected. To get the information she needed, she would have to violate that privacy. That they 
wouldn't know it was happening was not the point; she would know she was doing it.
  She thought of the sand. Like the sand that lined one part of the lake, the part that led towards the village. 
  She didn't like it. But it was necessary.
  Funny how quickly Paradise passes away in the face of what is required, she thought.
  Hating herself for doing it, she reached out with her powers, a mere burst of power that she had hidden within herself. 
A cloud of sand rushed forwards like a lightning bolt, streaked across the village and slammed into the body of the man, 
Nathan Delcuire, who had just finished speaking. The sand passed through the person as if the person was just... not 
there.
  She reeled back from the sight. There was nothing there! But that was impossible, it was -
  He turned, met her gaze, and suddenly she felt a wave of energy surround her, building up, first shielded and concealed
but now brought out in the open, leaping out around her. But not even a powerful mage could simply create such an 
elaborate illusion and turn it on and off like that. First they had been not there, then they had been there. 
  And as she caught the impression of the swirling energies that had gathered around her she realized something else: It 
was familiar. 
  Every bit of magical energy had its own unique signature, as individual and distinct as every person; no two were ever 
alike. Even the few magicians that used the same school of magic had their own ways of doing it. That was what separated 
them from one another. She was no different. She had her own way of keeping her power in check or unleashing it. She had 
taught herself to recognize such patterns instantly in order to find other magical persons in large crowds and to sense 
potential enemies. Her innate street rat abilities and sense of danger had melded perfectly with her magically attuned 
senses. 
  But the pattern she detected in this new energy was identical to the pattern of the people that was around her, the 
ones who had surrounded her and seemed to be gathering in power. A maelstrom was forming with her right at the center. 
  As she widened her probe, she felt the gathering patterns snapping on in all the people in the room. All the same. 
Identical.
  One mind. Not many minds. One mind.
  She found Ares' face in the crowd. "Who are you?" she said. "What are you?" 

  "What?" the elder asked, amused. "I don't believe I understand what you are asking," He added, that same smile on 
his face. 
  "Of course you do," Eglin said. "For every person, there is no greater imperative than the need to return home. It's 
understandable that an outsider, however well informed - mentally, maybe? - would not know that. It's not in our history,
it's not something we think about - it's who and what we are. The need to return home is in our blood and our bones and 
our emotions. Even if that place has caused a person great pain, he would still find some way to keep contact with home. 
Be it with news or letters or visiting there himself.
  "You see, I've helped slaves before, freed them. And one thing I learned is that almost all of them had a desire to 
return home, to their families, to their lives. They would never say what you just said, never write off the homes they 
have been ripped away from, never concede even the possibility of extinction. Therefore, although you look like a person,
you cannot be from what you've told me. From this I can only conclude that what I am seeing ... is not what is. And if 
you are not what you appear, then I must wonder how much else is real. This room, this table, perhaps even this delicious
strawberry which I think, I believe, I am holding in my hand ... but which almost certainly does not exist any more 
than you do."
  It has to be mentally, he thought. Has to be. There WAS no other way...
  And he thought back to what he was seeing before... and it made perfect sense!
  The elder - or what appeared to him as the elder - regarded him silently for a moment, a very long moment, before 
speaking. "You do not seem concerned by this conclusion of yours."
  "Conclusion or delusion?" Eglin challenged lightly. Then: "Concerned? No, not really. . Scared? Well, yes, I think I 
am very scared right now. Because I have to wonder about something: how many came before me, us? How many others have 
seen what you wanted them to see, eaten what they thought was really good food that did not, in fact, exist? And starved 
to death without ever realizing what was happening? 
  "I've seen a lot of magic shows as a child," Eglin confessed. "But I have to admit: this is the best use of smoke and 
mirrors I have ever seen."
  The elder rose, limbs that had previously appeared infirm now strong. He approached Eglin with a swiftness of a man 
half his age and met Eglin's gaze. Eglin did not look away. 
  "You are a most remarkable person," he said. Eglin felt a bit of shock right there, because he knew that this... person
was sincere
  Eglin shrugged. "Thank you." 
  "In the time of my existence, few have ever discovered what you have just discovered, and then only in the last moments 
of their lives. You are the first -"
  And then he looked off, seemed to be concentrating on something far from here. "-yes, the first, but now there is 
another also discovering this, not far from here. Your companion." He looked back at Eglin. "Your love," he corrected 
himself. 
  "Perhaps this was a good thing. From both of you I can learn what I did wrong that allowed you to discover what was 
going on so quickly."
  "I've been a teacher before. I'm sure I can be of assistance," Eglin said. "Sadira, however, might not be quite so 
amenable. She has a very stubborn side to her." 
  "We will see," the elder said. "It is a strange thing, to meet another mind openly, and ... talk. Even if only for a 
little while."
  "Oh? And why just a little while?" Then: "I hope we haven't begun to overstay our welcome."
  The elder chuckled at Eglin's little joke. He seemed more amused at this person then he thought possible. "Because 
regardless of how our conversation goes - and make no mistake, I am looking forward to it - neither of you will leave 
here alive."
  That was what I was afraid you would say, Eglin sighed inwardly. Then he leaned back, trying to relax and calm his mind
before continuing. 
  "Perhaps," Eglin said. "Well, you did pull the wool over our eyes for this long. I'll give you credit for that." 
  The elder nodded his head in humble thanks and bade Prince Eglin of Tartesos to continue.
  "But until then, if you want to learn from me, first I must learn from you. So I ask you again: Who, or what, are you?" 

  The results were immediate. So fast that Sadira did not have time to process it all in her mind the first time. It was 
just so much to digest at once. As soon as she asked the question, the other people - or what appeared to be people - went
 silent. She went though the possibilities. It's impossible for two people to have the same magical imprints. Therefore 
they cannot exist. I am seeing that which does not exist, she thought. 
  But then she had a moment of self-doubt. She was no grandmaster mage, no seer or prophetess. She knew only what she 
and other had seen and wrote down. 
  She closed her eyes, and for the first time became aware of the slight mental pressures on her mind, sending false 
signals back to her brain, pressures that coaxed the part of the mind that controlled what she saw, felt, heard, touched,
or tasted. The coaxing was so subtle that she had not been aware of it until now. She would have noticed it right away 
except-
  She had been intentionally distracted the whole time, right from the beginning. 
  Finding that center of calm in herself, she shut down the misleading impulses, pushed them away and kept them out, a 
reflex action now brought to life due to her past training. She felt a slight pressure that pushed at her concentration. 
It was the thought of Eglin, of his fate. She spent only a fraction of a second considering it and pushed it away. She 
knew that should any harm would come to him, she would feel it, would feel his pain and his anguish at any distance. 
And she knew that he was very capable and clever and he would be fighting his own battle as she was now. 
  She opened her eyes. The room was empty.
  "No," she whispered to herself. "Not quite."
  She closed her eyes slowly and chased down the last of that invasive coaxing, hidden expertly from detection, and 
opened her eyes. Such slithering things they were to her, poking around inside of her and refusing to leave when caught. 
They were vile to her and made her skin crawl from the thought of them. But she pushed harder this time, giving no 
quarter.
  She thought of being out of here now. Of fighting, living and leaving this place... together. Arm in arm, embracing. 
His body pressed against hers and his arms holding her close to him. And the knowledge that the remainder of their lives 
would be spent together that way. It gave her enough of that push she needed and she used it, focused it and replayed it
in the back of her mind over and over again, used it to push them away and slam them out of her mind. And then she 
opened her eyes.
  The room was gone.
  She stood inside a forest, the high branches forming a vast canopy above her.
  In front of her, spread out over a barely-concealed marble floor, were the rusted and woodrotted husks of dinghies and 
personal yachts from hundreds, perhaps thousands, of places and ports. They were overgrown with vines and covered in 
leaves. Some of the vines had left tracks in the dirt where they had been used to pull - or had themselves pulled - the 
ships in, where they could not be seen from the shore.
  And she could see the marbled ruins of what used to be part of a larger structure. Maybe a temple, maybe a grand 
building. Marble that was cracked and bleached from the untold centuries abandoned and neglected. With the vines and 
trees growing around, and as time progressed, over them. Vines encircled them, covering their faded carved symbols. 
  The more recent dinghies, still new and untarnished, bore Montangue colors.
  Only their own flying boat was missing from the scene. Obviously, they would get to it in time, or even now. But she 
figured that her own magical wards were doing their part by keeping the outsiders at bay. 
  Sadira felt sadness for the multitude of people - now all gone - who had once occupied these vessels. She thought of 
those people, all missing. Each had their own dreams and desires and some would be even noble, worthy ones. Now cut 
down by the local wildlife. She took only a second to think about it and quickly pushed the thought away. She started 
toward the ships ... and heard movement among the distant trees. As she watched, animals, birds, and insects of every
shape and description seemed to bleed out of the shadows. They crawled, hopped, slithered, stalked, and galloped out of 
the forest, moving together, utterly silent, and looking straight at her with uncommon intelligence.
  She reached out to them from a distance with her magic.
  They all registered the same magical imprint.
  No, she corrected herself, not hundreds of creatures with the same imprint, the same imprint overlaying their own minds.
  The words came to her from her earliest days of training, back in Agrabah when she had discovered the scrolls that 
taught her about her powers and how to use them. They were many, too numerous to count. And she was still reading new 
ones when time permitted. Chances were that her entire life could be spent reading those scrolls and she would still be 
far behind. 
  A few of them spoke of magical theories - what could and could not be done - and of magical places, or places where 
powerful magic was used. Such places would still have an aura of magical energies on them, and in rare cases, those 
energies would build and grow and over time, and start to think on their own. An aura that was the byproduct of powerful, 
earth-shattering magework could turn into a sentient, powerful force. It was a phenomenon often written about in the 
scrolls but rarely encountered in the real world: hive souls. 

  "Everything in the open?" the elder prodded. "The truth?" 
  "That would be nice," Eglin offered. 
  The elder nodded, as if to indicate that this was a fair question to be asked and answered. 
  "I am this island," the elder said.
  A moment's pause and then:
  "Not possible," Eglin said. "Islands are not sentient beings." He kept his tone even, controlled, not confrontational 
or offensive. More like the scholar who desired to learn more from his betters. 
  "No? Perhaps not the soil, or the metal, or their component elements, but what of the lifeforms themselves? Branch and 
leaf, hoof and claw?"
  Eglin pretended to consider this for a moment. He paused, seemingly deep in thought. "Good argument," he complimented.
"Please continue."
  "There is no memory among us, even the oldest, that tells us how it happened. Some who came here long ago and discovered
our nature had their own ideas about it. But they think that it had something to do with the... ruins that were here 
before. They believed that in a time long past, they were used for powerful things, harnessing and containing powers 
beyond anything we are allowed to see, or should see. And their builders, for whatever reasons, left. As time went on, 
the buildings that were made fell, but the energies within them remained." 
  "Ah." Eglin settled back a bit, relaxing a bit more, trying to seem casual. "So these builders finished what they were 
doing and just... left?" 
  "Untold time passed. And slowly, links began to occur between all the forms of life here. Small links that became larger
and more complex. Individually, none of those who live in this place are sentient, as you'd call it. But collectively, there
 is a group mind, a flash of consciousness that links all forms of life here into one great entity that, one day, long 
ago ...” 
  "Woke up," Eglin finished. 
  The elder nodded, beaming with pride and joy as he recalled this tale. "Ours is a land of unrivaled peace and 
cooperation. A wounded animal calls out to the carrion eaters when it is about to die so that the food is not wasted. 
The weak and lame are killed and the strong are allowed to grow to maintain balance. We are One.
  "But from time to time over the years, others came here, others whose intentions were not peaceful. They would destroy 
the land, tear down the forests, kill the animals. We responded by becoming even stronger, until we could impose the 
pressures on those who came here. They would become lost in illusion, as you almost did, eventually starving to death. 
Their bodies would be moved into areas requiring fertilization, to serve the greater self." 
  "Sounds very... efficient," Eglin replied. Don't let your eyes waiver! he kept telling himself. The elder seemed to 
beam with pride with every compliment Eglin gave him. And that was what he was hoping for. He can't read my thoughts, 
he told himself. If he did, I would've been dead by now. No, before. He can't read me or Sadira. "Wish our people could 
be that direct when handling problems. I can see how the prison system could be revised already." 
  "It is easier for us to deal with your kind this way," the elder said. "But we do have other means at our disposal." 

  Sadira looked around. 
  A few of what looked like wild boars stalked her. She could see them moving around her, hoping that one could distract 
her and the others flank her from the sides. 
  She was looking around for more threats, but she was also looking for something else as well. And she found it, almost 
completely hidden from her view behind a veil of hanging vines and branches. Galen's rapier.
  She reached out to it, physically and mentally calling it forth with her own will, her own power. And it responded, 
bursting out of its scabbard and rocketing towards her, spinning all the while. A lethal circle of sharpened, enchanted 
metal that screamed right for her, shredding whatever happened to stand in its path. Severed leaves, branches and animal 
limbs flew out of its wake. 
  The rapier's fine handle slapped right into Sadira's hand and her entire body thrust forwards, now just a blur. A grin 
of primal satisfaction split her face, showing twin rows of bright, even teeth. She had that feral look to her now. She 
thrust herself forwards, the blade just a slivery shadow under her control, slashing and hacking away in fluid movements.
Vines, carnivores, birds... all fell to that blade. 
  And with every hack, she swore that she could hear that other presence screaming in the back of her mind, howling in 
pain and surprise. 
  "I'm a street rat," she commented and actually found herself laughing. To her, it was funny. Here she was, a sand witch 
in a living, hostile jungle, now fighting with a magical sword that she had helped craft, her beloved off somewhere 
fighting his own battle. 
  There were now thousands of the creatures moving into position on all sides. Even armed, she knew she could take out 
only a few of them. If they struck with a coordinated attack, even if it wasn’t at full-force, she would be hopelessly 
overwhelmed - bitten, beaten, and stampeded to death.
  She could feel them preparing to strike, feel the growing determination in their unified thoughts.
  She ran back in the direction she thought would lead towards the beaches. She could feel them, their confusion, a moment
of uncertainty . They could feel her fighting spirit, her prowes - and yet, she had retreated. 

  She was fighting he own battles and Eglin was doing his part as well. 
  And he could already see how much of an impact she was making against them. This perfect illusion, so perfect that they
had almost fallen for it, was starting to lose its form, its cohesion. He knew that he didn't have the innate skills or 
talents to block out the illusions, so he didn't bother trying to strain himself. But now, he could see the walls of the 
huts fading back and forth in some places, and behind them, he would see that illusory village alternate to the forest. 
  The interior was suffering as well, fading in and out and even disappearing for a second or two. The fire blanked out 
in front of him but the light and heat remained. It was amusing to him and he wanted to laugh about it, his fears bleeding
away slowly. Now, the fire just burned silently, the sound muted somehow. And the smoke was absent as well. 
  "Problem?" Eglin offered, feigning concern. He was smiling now. 
  The elder merely shook his head. "Nothing that cannot be overcome in time." 
  At that Eglin smirked. "Your confidence does you great credit," he complimented. "But has it ever occurred to you that 
such a strong feeling might be.." He pretended to struggle to find the right word , silently mocking the elder and 
enjoying the experience. “Premature?"
  "Premature?" 
  "Well, you win enough fights, pretty soon you think you're invincible. Infallible . You believe it so much that 
pretty soon, the idea of being defeated is... unthinkable." 
  The elder hurrumphed at the notion. But Eglin could see the look in the illusion's eyes. That fear. Seeing it was 
bringing back his confidence, his faith. "You are worried, aren't you?" he wondered.
  And then: "Did it ever occur to you to talk to those people? The ones before us?" 
  The elder looked at him with questioning eyes. 
  "Never, huh?" Eglin shook his head sadly. Another lost chance where diplomacy might have worked. "Never thought of 
telling these people to leave. Never tried to talk to them, to get them to accept you as equals, to work with them. 
Everything you accomplished and all you've done was kill others, for no reason other than that they were ignorant of what 
you were." 
  "She's heading for the water ," the elder shot back. A wave of uncharacteristic fury stuck Eglin for a moment but it 
just strengthened his resolve. Yep, the Elder was worried. "She might try to leave you here." 
  "The water, you say?" Eglin's eyebrows rose. Inwardly, he felt like laughing. Or thrusting his fist up in triumph. "As 
in, towards the beach?" he asked, trying to keep his tone sincere and innocent. 
  He knew what she was up to. 

  There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and she was nearly out of time.
  But not out of ideas.
  She'd broken through the treeline. Exploded through it. An explosion of leaves, twigs and bird feathers. Circling 
around her like A silvery aura, the unstoppable slashings of her blade. And behind her, the entire island's inhabitants. 
She could feel them storming after her, a tidal wave of fur, feathers, teeth, hooves and claws. She could feel powerful 
jaws gnashing at her from behind, claws reaching out trying to grip her. Her entire body would spin around, and the 
blade with her, clipping and slashing away anything that was unfortunate enough to make such a grab at that split-second. 
And in those split-seconds, she had only a briefest of glimpses of what she was fighting against. It had shocked her that
 they would press on regardless of how many limbs she hacked away or faces she sliced open. 
  First couple to ever tick off an island and it's us. she thought wildly. 
  It was only when she felt the sand on her bare feet that she reacted - an instant reflex, a reaction that was driven 
by pure instinct long before her conscious mind could catch on. 

  The elder... "Oh, no," he breathed. A look of pure horror covered his face.
  Eglin, on the other hand, allowed himself to smile finally. The smile of someone who knew a great secret. 

  The sands had opened up around them: opened up, come alive, roiled in waves like an ocean surf. If the animals were... 
themselves, they might've stayed away, felt the danger that was coming for them. But their single-mindedness was too 
focused on getting to her - so much so that they never thought to consider what other surprises she was capable of. 
  The beach erupted in front of the monsters as they tore out of the forest after her. mandibles made of animated sands 
lashed out, shackling wild boars and other ferocious predators. She pushed hard, feeling her powers growing around her, 
feeling the sands responding to her every command. Walls were raised, made of sand yet as strong and as unyielding as 
stone. They flanked her sides at a distance, protecting her from being blind-sided. 
  The wave of monsters was being pushed back, but she knew that this would only hold them for a moment. They would still 
try to come after her. 
  She had to get to the root of the problem. Literally. 
  With an unsettling calmness, she reached into her hair and removed the ornate rings that held her ringlets together. 

  Back in Agrabah, Sadira had braids and ringlets framing the side of her lovely face. Often, the hair would just get 
tangled or get in her face - an annoyance. But for whatever reasons, she had still kept the same style. Eglin enjoyed 
it as well, feeling that somehow, that hair tapped into her primal nature. And when she was physically active, running, 
prancing or even sitting on a lawn somewhere, that hair gave her a slightly wild, feral look. 
  But the brass balls that held those ringlets together long ago were just brass. Nothing like the ornate silvery rings 
that she wore now. They were special to her, and also essential. Because they served the vital purpose of holding her 
powers back. Holding her full power in check. 
  And it was those same rings that she removed from her hair, using her free hand and keeping her rapier held high. She 
felt their influence fade away as the binders were distanced from her body. She dropped them on the sands, hoping to 
retrieve them later. 
  Behind the walls, she heard the wailing and roaring of hundreds of animals, a wild symphony of hate and destruction. 
Above her, the skies darkened with clouds of birds, entire flocks that took to the skies, circling over her. Waiting. 
  She closed her eyes again and concentrated. Hive souls seemed almost supernatural, but there was always a core element 
somewhere. Thoughts and powers didn't come randomly into existence; they all had to start somewhere. She visualized the 
magical patterns in the lifeforms around her, beyond the erected barricades and focused on tracking them back to the 
source, the beginning of the thought, the powers.
  Come on, focus! she demanded of herself. Those ancient scrolls that she had found a lifetime ago had altered her, 
enhanced her abilities to an extent even she didn't fully understand. They had changed her life forever. She thought of 
all the friends that she met in her journey from Agrabah to Tartesos. How she had first encountered Eglin, and how she 
came to love him. 
  She was no longer Sadira the Street Rat. She was Lady Sadira Sigel, the beloved girlfriend of Prince Eglin. I can do 
this. 
  I will do this. 
  Under her, the beach began to quake... and the rest of the island soon followed. 

  "Oh, by the way," Eglin said stalling for time. If this elder, this entity, could sense Sadira in motion, then she must 
be ready to take action. She was still alive, he knew that. He could feel it. And seeing how frustrated this being was 
right now, it was obvious to Eglin that his beloved Sadira was putting up a very good fight. Now, he had to do his part 
in this. It might help to distract the entity, and while he was at it ... he might learn something as well.
  “What is it?" the elder asked, seemingly annoyed.
  "A question." Eglin smiled warmly. "Oh, don't worry. It's something I almost always ask myself every day. 
  "Ever since I was a boy, I always wondered about the world and our role in it. I wanted to understand why we are what 
we are. Me and my sister, we were born this way, and there are no others like us. No one knows why or how it happened. 
Because of that, we are mistrusted, even hated by others for no other reason than that we are different. But I'd like to 
believe that there was a reason for us being what we are. A higher goal for us to be achieved.
  "Now, since the dawn of time, humanity has always turned its attention to understanding the universe, to discovering 
the ultimate meaning of our lives. Who we are, where are we going? It's a very noble goal, something that I think we 
should approach more often. But we have past knowledge, past experiences to draw from: our parents, our teachers, whoever.
  "My question is this: have you ever wondered why you are what you are? Ever wondered why you were given this gift and 
what you would-or should- be doing with it? You said you knew how. But have you ever asked... why?" 
  "I ..." The elder paused, seemed momentarily to lose focus. His eyes clouded a bit as he looked away, staring at nothing
as he considered the implications of Eglin's deep questioning. Then he shook off the distraction. "Yes, we have,” he 
answered, indignant. "When we became aware, it was our first thought: Who are we, and where did we come from? We needed 
to define ourselves here. So yes, we did ask that question, and after years spent dwelling on this one question, we 
finally received an answer. We know the meaning of all of this, of the 'why'! The importance of..." 
  The elder paused again. Looked at Eglin for a second. Then two. And then, that wave of pure ashen horror rolled over 
his face. His eyes widened. "The other..."
  "Her name's Sadira. My beloved."
  He nodded. "She ... is not like the others. Stronger. We had..." He gulped. Beads of sweated glistened down his face 
as the implications struck home. "We... thought she was the same."
  At that, Prince Eglin leaned closer. His eyes were steely as he glared at the elder. "You thought wrong," he replied, 
in a voice far harsher and colder then he had thought he could manage. 

  The image came into her thoughts: Buried deep underneath the island's mysterious ruins, a kind of life force, a strange,
unusual life force that had all the classic traits of an individual being. Just one that was born of magic rather then of
a woman. ... it thrashed about as time progressed, wandering about the island aimlessly, collecting bits and shards of 
input and information as the centuries progressed slowly. And somehow, all of those thoughts and memories converged into 
something else. Knowledge, and then self-awareness. And then it evolved with the other native life forms, infected them 
over the course of centuries, or even longer! Created a symbiotic life cycle .. took root in their own minds and bodies 
until they reached a kind of critical mass, until they were answerable to and controlled by this greater mass.
  She pushed deeper, and the beaches exploded. A massive ball of violent dust kicked up, seemingly miles tall and many 
miles wide, with only Sadira and her small boat left unscathed. The animals screamed even louder but did not retreat. 
She could feel the entire island quaking and shuddering. And she swore that it was all done in anger. 
  This island, those ruins, were just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. She could see the sand parting underneath her 
feet, burrowing away deeper and deeper into the ground. And then, she could see the marble blocks underneath, the same 
blocks and the same type of marble that made those derelict ruins in the forest. And then she realized, to her amazement,
that she had it all backwards. 
  The ruins, whatever structure that was made, was done first. After it was abandoned, as time went on, the island had 
formed itself. 
  There were miles and miles of caverns and buildings, one built after another, and over and sometimes under... a maze 
stretching miles in either direction, all underground. All long since abandoned, but still brimming with potent energies.
And in all of those miles and miles of untouched corridors and empty rooms, the combined mass of the magical energies 
coiled far beneath the surface, where it was warm, and moist, and safe.
  Correction: where it believed itself to be safe.
  She struck with a massive attack, hurling the rapier in the air with a mighty roar, forcing all the power she held 
within to be released in a titanic blast, pushing the entire beach away to reveal what secrets it held. It was simple 
to her. Using the animated walls and manacles to keep back the onslaught of monsters was child's play for her now.
  She felt the hive soul reel under her assault, trembling, fearful. The rapier sailed high in the air before falling. No,
it did not just fall as gravity finally regained its reach. It flew down, (descending and hurling back to the ground at 
a terrible speed.
  It slammed itself right into the center of the forest, right dead-center of those ruins, piercing through it, and still 
ripping downward at a great speed, descending deeper underground. No walls or floors or ceilings could hold this magical 
weapon back. It was designed to cut through anything. Anything. 
  It was what Galen wanted. 
  She felt the entity struggle to meet her attacks, to disorient her and confuse her again, to put up another fantasy, 
but she blocked it. And she felt its fear. It was unprepared - it had never thought it could be attacked in this way. 
  Eyes shut, she heard the creatures stampeding toward her, propelled by fear, trying to break past those sandy walls. 
Kill her, kill her, do it now.
  She knelt; no, crumpled to the ground. Dug her fingers into what few piles of sand remained around her. She growled, 
her teeth bared, ) and she could hear herself snarling in a rage. Then she pushed! Pushed hard. Pushed that rapier deeper
into the structures underneath, deeper into the core of this being. She was sweating, shaking, but refused to pass out. 
Refused to give in or give up. Even as her head pounded and her body ached, she knew that she had to push with everything
she had to win this. To overcome this. 
  Push, break, she silently commanded her weapon. Push, push, push, PUSH!
  And...
  Far below, something massive and moist began to tear.
  Then silence. The birds stopped squeaking their anger but still circled above her. The animals’ frenzy lessened, then 
stopped. And then she was blessed with numbing silence, and those simple, lovely sounds came back: the sound of water 
crashing gently against the ground, of trees rustling in the gentle breeze. It was quiet now, as if the entire island 
had just paused to say, "huh?"
  And it had only lasted for a second or two... until.. 
  Darkness surged upward, rising behind her eyes.
  In her mind, an island screamed. And soon, her ears heard it as well. Birds and beasts alike screamed and howled and 
roared and screeched in unison, in pain and agony. 

  It was dawn when she awoke to the gentle familiar sounds of the ocean, the smell of fish being cooked, and the 
sensations of a tiny paw tapping against her face. 
  She awoke in her own bunk, back on their magical flying ship, wrapped in a comforter, her head wrapped in a cool, 
water-soaked cloth. Noah was standing over her, patting Sadira's face with her deformed paw. Sadira smelled the food 
and heard her belly grumbling loudly, a sound that made the tiny kitten flinch. She felt like she had not eaten in days. 
  She tried to sit up, but her arms ached, and the pain in her head increased tenfold.
  Above decks, Eglin heard the noise and called down to her. 
  "Don't move," he said. "I found you on the ground and carried you back. You had me worried." 
  He descended to see her. Soon after, they had dinner and talked. They ate on the floor, Sadira propped up against her
bunk, still wrapped in that warm comforter. At her side, Noah was eating chopped fish from a small bowl. 
  She had slept for almost a full day. He had brought her back and stayed only to collect a few things, then soon left 
for home. The rapier, as if having a will of its own, returned to the ship as well. He had found it just lying there by 
her side, still sheathed in it's scabbard, sitting here , like a dog next to its master. 
  She told her tale as well, wolfing down bluefish steadily, pausing only to gulp down another mug of warm tea. Eglin 
smiled, having eaten half a dozen bluefish himself. He had kept telling himself that he was starving from that thing's 
influence on him and not because of her cooking. 
  "The animals...?" she wondered aloud. 
  "Pretty much left me alone when I found you," Eglin replied. "I guess whatever you did broke the connections." 
  She nodded. It took them some time to calm down. They both had a lot to digest on this trip. 
  She told him how she first suspected that something was wrong. How Ares' noticeably creased his brow, and just how much
it resembled how much Eglin did the same. 
  Eglin nodded and told her about that small sleight-of-hand trick that she did, ") and how that elder had done the same
thing, almost absently. 
  "It was all one big magic show," Sadira said, shoving another forkful of fried bluefish in her mouth. She would know. 
In a place where magic and genies and flying carpets ran rampant almost every day, she knew that there would always be 
cons and hucksters pretending to be magicians and wizards themselves. She had learned how to spot a con and knew almost 
all of the tricks. Mostly the sleight-of-hand, like her bit with the coins. But she knew that distraction and 
misdirection were key. 
  "All that stuff we saw in the forest before seeing... them, that was to distract us. To separate us." 
  Eglin nodded. "And that fellow, that guide." 
  "Lochly," she remembered.
  "Yeah. I thought how he sounded his name was strange. Strange and familiar. Low-key, that was how he pronounced it. 
Then I remember my mother reading to me about myths. Some bedtime story she read to me when I was younger. It wasn't 
Lochly. It was Norse: Loki. God of Mischief, mainly." 
  "Genius Loci?" Sadira asked, certain that Eglin had the answer. That mysterious message that the lone survivor had 
carved into the wood right next to where he had soon died. 
  "Latin: 'The spirit of the place'."
  There wasn't much left to tell afterwards. She slept soundly as Eglin moved the ship away from the island and they 
made their trip home. A small fragment of the ruins was taken as well, something Eglin wanted to study when they got 
back. He was no geologist, but it was what this rock resembled that fascinated him; fascinated and bothered him. That 
pinkish-white marble. Even subjected to centuries of neglect, he had polished it to a mirror shine without too much 
trouble. And that was what bothered him; because the marble that the ruins were made from was almost identical to the 
marble that made the Enchanted Castle. Heaven, his home. 
  They would go back, tell the others of what they had experienced. No doubt, the riders would work fast to retake the 
rogue Montangue vessel, to use for whatever reasons. And he suspected that that island would be quarantined somehow. Or 
just burned to ashes. He thought of the irony: how the very thing that hive soul had feared would come true after its 
demise. 
  Sadira focused on him. "I could feel you talking to.. that thing toward the end," she said. "You helped me by 
distracting it. I don't know what you asked, but it must have been a very good question, because nearly all of the entity 
was focused on it. What was it?"
  Eglin said nothing for a second. Then five seconds. She could see the many things running around in his fertile mind 
as he considered her question. Mostly how to answer it. 
  "Oh ... nothing important," he finally said, fighting what she suspected was an ironic smile. "Nothing important at all." 
  She frowned. "You sure?" she asked, eying him suspiciously. 
  "Oh..." Now Eglin was smiling broadly- the kind of smile he had when he had a private joke on his mind. "Nothing I 
haven't asked myself every day." 

  That night, they napped together. Not as lovers would ("Marriage first", they reminded each other, laughing a bit as 
they did so), but still close together, in each other's arms, his large hand holding her small one. In the semi-darkness, 
he could feel her blushing. The lamps were dimmed low as the ship coasted in the direction that would take them back home.
  In the shadows, off to the side, a small kitten nestled against the back of Eglin's head. This bunk had a porthole on 
the side, and outside, the stars shone their light onto them; a blueish aura surrounded them. The ship flying high in 
the night skies, and them together inside, they would sometimes look out the porthole together, marveling at the many 
stars the night has brought them. 

  Another adventure experienced.
  Another night together. 
  And so many more to come. 

  The End. 
  ("Perhaps The Ending Has Not Yet Been Written...")