The thunderbird clung to life out of sheer stubbornness. Between the punishment that Fey had dealt to it, plus the spear that Zave was ninety nine percent sure he had driven through its heart, it had no right to still be alive. But try as he might to convince himself of that, reality refused to listen to common sense, and he opened his eyes to find himself still clutched in the gargantuan bird’s beak.

 

It was barely hanging on by a thread, though. Each flap of its wings seemed to be a colossal effort, and yet it still couldn’t even clear the tops of the trees. A cacophony of snaps and cracks resounded beneath them as it shaved off the forest’s topmost layer of branches. How long would it be able to hold out? And more importantly, when it finally did give in, would Zave survive the crash?

 

He realized he was about to find out, as the thunderbird’s wing clipped the forest floor, sending them corkscrewing chaotically toward the ground. Zave clenched his eyes shut and covered his face, scarcely daring to breathe as he waited for…

 

Zave had been unconscious when the plane crashed, but he imagined that it couldn’t have felt much different than this. At one moment, he was moving at speeds his brain couldn’t even comprehend, and then the next everything just stopped. This time it was his turn to visit the weightless place that Fey had gone to after grounding the thunderbird.

 

And then there was cold.

 

Like a slap that resonated down to his very soul, it yanked Zave bank to reality. For a second, he didn’t know what was happening. He still felt weightless, but now there was something all around him. It pressed in on him from every angle, slowing his movements when he lashed out in front of himself in panic. What was—

 

Water! He had landed in water!

 

His lungs were already beginning to burn when he kicked his feet behind him, hoping desperately that he was facing the surface. The water was dark and murky, but as he swam, light became visible above him. Fighting the overwhelming urge to suck down a lungful of water, he gave one last kick, and his head broke the surface.

 

He gasped, breathing in the life giving air as sunlight shone down all around him.

 

It took several breaths and more than one coughing fit, but eventually he was able to gather his wits and look around. Luck had been on his side for once, it seemed, because he had landed in a particularly large part of the river that ran close to the mountain. The same one that he and Fey had fished from earlier that day, but more than twice as wide and much deeper.

 

Zave whispered a quiet prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening. If he had landed anywhere else, he would never have survived the crash. And speaking of…

 

Treading water, he turned in a circle until he saw the gargantuan shape of the thunderbird. It lay on the river’s shore, and every few seconds it would shiver, as if it were still trying to find the strength to fly. Angling himself in that direction, Zave swam toward it.

 

The thunderbird gave a weak squawk as he stepped out of the water. Hatred gleamed in its one eye, which was eerily matched by the scarlet glow emanating from the empty socket on the other side of its face. Zave hesitated, but when it didn’t—or couldn’t—make any move to attack him again, he tentatively stepped up to it and placed his hand on its head.

 

“For what it’s worth,” he said softly, “I’m sorry things had to go this way. I never wanted to fight you. And maybe I’m just imagining things, but I don’t think you wanted this either.”

 

The bird made a strange sound in its throat, almost like it was agreeing with him.

 

“We’re just two weirdos who don’t have anywhere to belong, aren’t we?” he said, gently rubbing the thunderbird between its eyes. “You woke up in a world you were too big to exist in…”

 

Zave blinked in surprise. How had he known that? Because he did know it, without a shadow of doubt, and it had appeared in his mind the moment he looked into the dying thunderbird’s eye.

 

“...and I don’t even know what the hell I am,” he finished. “Maybe you and Gil are right. Maybe I am something evil. Can you be evil without even knowing it?”

 

If the thunderbird had any answers for him, it didn’t share them. It just gave one final shuddering breath, its black feathered form going limp for the last time, and died.

 

Zave bowed his head and said it again. “I’m sorry.”

 

He stayed like that for a few minutes, and when he raised his head the sunset had turned the sky orange. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Getting up, he walked around to the thunderbird’s side, where only a few inches of his spear protruded from its chest. The poor thing must have fallen on it when they had crash landed, driving it even further into its body. He pulled it out, trying not to throw up at the wet shloorp sound it made. Clutching the only dry spot he could find between his fingers, he took it to the river and washed it clean. It almost felt ritualistic, like something would have been wrong with the world if he hadn’t cleaned the blood off it.

 

A rustle in the undergrowth told him he wasn’t alone, and he spun around, expecting either Fey or Clueless to come running out to see if he was all right.

 

Instead, he found himself face to face with Gil.

 

“Y- You killed it!” Gil exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief and anger. He stepped out of the woods, wearing his human guise again and aiming yet another glowing red arrow right at Zave’s heart. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

 

Zave raised his hands, though from the look in Gil’s eyes he doubted it would make a difference. “Weren’t you trying to kill him?”

 

“Yes!” he yelled, his voice high and shrill. “It was supposed to be me! Then I could finally go home!”

 

The two of them faced off on either side of the thunderbird. Even with his hands above his head, Zave refused to let go of his spear. He had watched Gil’s fight against Fey, and knew that he stood no chance against the freakish lizard man.

 

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Zave said slowly, “but I don’t want any part of it. Can we please just…”

 

His voice trailed off when the sun, drawing even closer to the horizon, lowered itself so that it was directly behind Gil—and the light expanded until it was all he could see. His heart leaped. His powers were back!

 

The vision took form. He saw Gil, and there was Zave himself, standing across from him.

 

Gil shot him. The arrow flew straight and true, right into Zave’s heart. Zave managed to stay on his feet for a few seconds, a stunned look on his face, before he fell over and died.

 

The vision ended, and a pit formed in Zave’s stomach.

 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Gil challenged him. His voice was shaking, but the arrow was not. “For me to forget that I ever saw you and let you go on your merry evil way!”

 

Maybe if I tried to dodge? Zave thought, focusing on the sun again.

 

Another vision. He saw himself dart to the side, but Gil followed him and loosed the arrow. Zave fell to the ground, dead.

 

“Yeah, kinda,” Zave said. He had to keep Gil talking. As long as they were talking, Gil wouldn’t shoot him—or at least he hoped so. “I never wanted to fight you, Gil!”

 

Light enveloped him. Again, he saw himself dodge to the right, but this time he dug in his heels and reversed direction a split second later. The arrow missed, and hope surged in Zave’s heart. But then Gil drew his hunting knife and pounced on him, ramming the blade between Zave’s ribs.

 

“Damn it!” he hissed.

 

“What did you say?” Gil demanded.

 

“I said that I never wanted to fight you, Gil!”

 

“So what?” Gil jerked his head toward the dead thunderbird. “You think I wanted to fight that? It doesn’t matter! You’re evil, I’m good, so I have to kill you!”

 

Light. This time Zave tried to take a more offensive path, hurling his spear at Gil in the hopes that he’d catch him off guard. Gil just leaned casually out of the way and then shot him in the chest.

 

“If you’re looking for something evil to fight,” Zave said, the gears in his head churning out a half baked plan, “then maybe we can help each other. Have you ever heard of the wendigos?”

 

Gil went stiff. “The wendigos are extinct.”

 

“No, they’re—”

 

“Wendigos! Are! Extinct!”

 

Another vision. Another death.

 

“Why are you so certain about that?” Zave challenged him.

 

“None of your business!” Gil spat.

 

“What if you’re wrong?”

 

Another vision. Another death. Zave cursed in his head. Was that it, then? Was he destined to die here?

 

“You can’t trick me!” Gil said, one of his eyes twitching. “I keep telling you, I already know what you are!”

 

“I doubt that, since even I don’t know what I am.”

 

“You’re evil!”

 

Zave sighed. “I’m also getting tired of hearing that.”

 

Another vision. Another death. Despair began to claw at Zave’s heart. He was running out of time. With each vision, a little less time passed before Gil killed him. He could draw this out as long as possible, but eventually Gil was going to lose his patience and kill him one way or another.

 

There had to be a way out of this. The showdown with Jacob Donner had seemed hopeless too, and Zave had found a way out of it. It had been purely accidental, true, but there had been a way out. He had survived the fight with the thunderbird without being able to see the future. Fey and Clueless had done most of the work, yes, but he’d still avoided getting blasted by lightning. He couldn’t rely on his visions as a crutch. They were worthless if he wasn’t smart enough to use them the right way. In the end, he would be what got him out of this mess.

 

“This will be enough,” Gil was ranting. “This will have to be enough! I’ll tell them you killed the thunderbird, and then I killed you! That’ll make your kill mine by default, right? They’ll have to let me come back!”

 

“Where is it you’re trying to go?” Zave asked. It sounded like Gil was coming dangerously close to making up his mind. He had to get him talking again!

 

“None of your business!” he yelled again.

 

“If you’re going to kill me anyway, then you may as well tell me about…”

 

Zave found his eyes locking with Gil’s.

 

“...Agartha before you do.”

 

Gil went rigid, and Zave realized he had gone too far.

 

“I don’t know who told you about Agartha,” Gil said in a low, dangerous voice, “but it’s time for you to die!”

 

He raised his bow, and Zave’s eyes went to the shining red arrowhead. It was just a pinprick of light.

 

But it was enough for one last vision.

 

The same reflexes that had let him spear the fish that morning kicked in again. Without thinking, Zave dove for the thunderbird. He dropped his spear, and it spun on its end a couple times before toppling over onto the ground. A sharp twang told him that Gil had loosed the arrow. No time to think. Only time to act.

 

He grabbed the arrow that protruded from the thunderbird’s eye socket and wrenched it free. Using the momentum from his pull, he spun on his toes, holding the arrow out at arm’s length in front of him.

 

Please work, please work, please work!

 

The scene appeared to be playing out in slow motion. He spun back around to face Gil, and could see the arrow flying straight toward him. But then his hand swung into view, and grasped in his fist was the other arrow. Both glowed with that aggressive, blood colored light. One came to kill him. The other came to save him.

 

Gil’s arrow struck Zave’s, and both arrowheads shattered.

 

A blinding flash of light exploded in front of Zave’s eyes. The Skeptic’s Stones had been destroyed. Every ounce of magic they had imprisoned was set free in an instant. Now it just needed somewhere to go.

 

It chose Zave.

 

The swirling, pulsing mass of light surged toward him, first as one long, snakelike column, and then splitting into two. Both beams of light struck him simultaneously, one in each eye, and Zave went stumbling backwards as power surged into him. It burned like fire, acid, and lightning all at once, and he hated it, but at the same time he felt more alive and invigorated than he ever had before. Like Frankenstein’s monster being struck by lightning, it was agonizing and yet exhilarating, wonderful and yet terrible, life and death. A scream tore from his throat, and he didn’t know if it was from pain or mind-shattering pleasure.

 

And then, just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. But it wasn’t over. The world exploded into detail like Zave could never have imagined. He…could see…EVERYTHING! He saw the air swirling and dancing in a delicate ballet. The river lapped against the shore, and Zave could see the soundwaves it made traveling through the air. He could see every ripple and wave the water had made, was making, and would make. He could see straight through the water, all the way down to the riverbed below, and all the things that swam in it—even the ones whose bodies consisted of only a few cells.

 

“NO!” Gil screamed in outrage.

 

Zave spun to look, and both of them gasped. Gil dropped his bow, letting it clatter on the pebble beach below, and stumbled backwards.

 

“Wha- Wha- Wha- What the hell are you?” he shrieked in terror.

 

Zave didn’t have to ask why he had gasped. He knew. In an instant, he knew everything about Gil. Even more than Gil himself knew. Zave could see his past. He had been born in a gigantic underground city named Agartha, where an artificial sun provided ceaseless warmth to his reptilian race. He saw that Gil had displayed an unhealthy obsession with the surface world, an obsession that had grown until he had snuck through the forbidden tunnels to take a peek. He had been caught, banished, and given a single false hope for redemption: the blood of a Mythspawn would be his salvation. If he could kill one of the ancient beasts of legend, he would be allowed to return.

 

Nobody had told him that the Mythspawn were extinct.

 

Zave knew what had struck Gil so full of fear. He could see Gil, both the disguise he wore and his true reptilian form beneath. But more importantly, Zave could see himself. He was looking through Gil’s eyes, and what he saw horrified him as well. Zave’s eyes…they were like a pair of living nightmares! Three times as big as a human’s eyes should have been, and perfectly round, they stared unblinkingly at Gil. And that color! Blood red! Red as deep and as violent as the Skeptic’s Stones whose power he had absorbed! No irises, no pupils, just horrific, bottomless pools of red!

 

And there was something else below those terrible eyes. Something that hovered between this world and the immaterial. A handprint? It wrapped around Zave’s throat, right where Jacob Donner had grabbed him the night they’d had their fateful encounter. Whatever it was, it oozed pure evil into the air around Zave, corrupting it with his mere presence.

 

With an agonized scream, Zave forced his eyes closed. It broke the connection between him and Gil, but the horrors weren’t over. He could still see! Closing his eyes lessened the sanity shattering intensity of his vision somewhat, but his eyelids only seemed as opaque as a pair of lightly tinted sunglasses!

 

Gil was screaming. He’d fallen to his knees and had his hands clasped over his own eyes. Zave wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, but he knew that for everything he had taken from Gil a moment ago, he had also given something back. Some fleeting glimpse through his own eyes that Gil’s mind was clearly not equipped to handle. Zave, himself, could scarcely handle everything he was seeing, and it was coming from his own damn eyes!

 

“Zave? Zave!”

 

Zave saw the soundwaves before he heard the voices, and his eyes instinctively snapped open again. Fey and Clueless were coming. They were still several yards away, behind a dozen different trees, but he saw them anyway. No, he saw past them. Miles past them. Through the forest, then a city, across a lake, and through an entirely different forest before zeroing in on a building in a town hundreds of miles away. The words Susie Keiten’s Sweets were glowing above the door in a bright pink neon sign. Beside the sign was a window, and inside that window…

 

Zave saw the smiling man.

 

Completely ignoring the distance between them, the smiling man made eye contact with Zave. He didn’t move for a moment, and Zave got the distinct feeling that, despite his unnaturally cheerful expression, he was disappointed in him. Then he raised his hand, revealing the envelope he had clutched between two of his fingers. The paper was bright red, and Zave could clearly see the delicate writing that had been inked across the front.

 

For Xavier Thendred, it read.

 

“Zave, answer us!” Fey yelled.

 

The smiling man walked across the room, to the queen sized bed that sat facing the window, and laid the envelope down on the pillow.

 

“Zave?” Clueless called.

 

“HHHHELP!” he screamed from the bottom of his lungs.

 

Across from him, Gil stumbled to his feet and ran. Long red gashes covered his face where he had, apparently, been trying to scratch his eyes out.

 

Fey and Clueless burst onto the scene, and then froze in horror when they saw what was waiting for them. Zave kept his eyes trained on their legs, their chests, their feet, any part of them but their eyes. He didn’t want to go through that again. He didn’t want them to go through that.

 

For a few seconds, everything was still. The girls didn’t move, struggling as they were to comprehend the nightmare they saw before them. Zave was terrified that they would turn around and run, abandoning him there by the riverside. The worst part was, he wouldn’t have blamed them.

 

Clueless was the first to move. Dashing across the distance between them, she threw her arms around Zave’s neck.

 

“Zave! Poor Zave! Zave hurt, need help!”

 

Fey was there an instant later, kneeling beside him, staring in shocked disbelief.

 

“What happened?” she breathed.

 

Zave looked at one of them, and then the other, making sure not to make eye contact. He could see every line in their faces, every twitch of every muscle beneath their skin. They were scared, but they were scared for him, not of him. It was too much. Squeezing his eyes shut again, for all the good it did, he felt the tears spill down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop them, and wouldn’t have even if he could.

 

“It’s okay,” Fey said, hugging him from his other side. “Everything is going to be okay, Zave.”

 

Too much. Too much.

 

The dam inside him broke, and Zave wept like a child in their arms.