Two men in long dark coats left the cottage of the old man soon after dawn. He had given them spells and charms to capture the girl with the stone. Usually they were much more adept at following his orders, a mere girl should not have troubled them as much as she had so far. They had been traveling the worlds for many years, and were familiar with most of them. The old man had yet to reveal why he needed the stone, thought the twins rarely needed a reason. They were grateful to do his bidding in any way, and had been since they were born and came to him soon after. He had almost decoded the rest of the spell, and realized that the sooner they found the girl and stone, the sooner he would be able to complete his life's work. The fabric of reality was stretched thin and was finally beginning to tear in places. The twins brought back news of the disturbances the rips were causing and this helped the old man gauge the timing of the final working. With a fresh candle, he sat back down at the table and ran his fingers along the text searching for the words he needed. At dusk he stopped. The code had become more complex, and his eyes burned from the strain. He looked up as the door opened, and the two mud-covered and bedraggled men returned home. This time there was anger in their faces, not embarrassment. He did not feel the need to berate them now, they were angry enough with themselves and their minds could mete out the punishment much better than any words from him. They hung their coats by the roaring fire and lay down in front of it, their bodies had steam rising from the dampness of their clothes. He had told them to capture her at the temple of Chandahar before she learned of the prophecy, but time did not run the same in each world. He already knew that the timing of the last mission was off by mere minutes, but he didn't stop the spell that sent them between the worlds. The charms he had given them did not work on the girl and he wondered what power she had to repel them. Another thought came to him and he got up to go to the bookshelf he selected a thin, leather bound book. He took down a black bowl and poured water from a pitcher into it. He opened the book and turned to a marked page. Mumbling an incantation he held his hands over the water. When a few moments had passed, he took his hands away and peered into the bowl. The old man's eyes lost focus as he concentrated. His wispy hair floated up as the air around him became charged with energy. The water began to bubble and splash over the sides. He repeated the incantation in a louder voice. A small fountain of water started forming in the center of the bowl when it suddenly exploded. The old man flew back, tripping over the chair and landing on the floor. Dazed, he reached a hand to his face and drew it away bloody. The long gash across his cheek angered him, but now he also felt a small twinge of fear. Someone was trying to stop him. Someone was protecting the girl. He made up his mind to find out whom.

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