"Paradox (story 2): The Backward Journey (Chapter 12)" by Steven P. Love

Chapter 12

         Tarnara sobbed loudly as she sat upon her throne. It was probably the first time she had cried in years.

         Lylithia, however, was in a state of complete disbelief and denial as she paced the floor in front of Tarnara.

         “This should not have happened,” Lylithia said to herself. “The dagger should have drained his power.” She then looked out a nearby window to see the Primary Moon rising in the east. “The destruction is only hours away.” She then sighed. “After all these millennia, what could I have missed? Did I forget something critical from my childhood?”

         “MY SON IS DEAD,” Tarnara screamed. “And all you can talk about is what you might have forgotten?! You promised that the dagger would disable that abomination!”

         “Apparently I was wrong,” Lylithia confessed in a subdued and remorseful voice.

         Tarnara growled with anger. “You were wrong?! Is that all you have to say?! Why didn’t you heal my boy when you had the chance?”

         “Because I don’t have the power to heal the dead,” Lylithia snapped back. She then looked at Tarnara with a more apologetic expression. “By the time I recovered from the severance of the telepathic link I had with Kupa it was too late. He…was beyond my power to heal.”

         Tarnara seethed. “This is a disaster, and it is your fault! If you were a mere mortal I would have you executed right now!”

         “I’m sorry,” Lylithia apologized as sincerely as she could.

         “You’re sorry,” Tarnara mocked angrily. “Look at me! I am too old to have any more children. Kupa was my only heir. When I die the religious extremists will take over and destroy everything I have spent a century building!”

         Suddenly, a guard came into the throne room and quickly bowed in front of the Queen. He appeared anxious.
         “What is it,” Tarnara yelled.

         “Forgive the intrusion majesty,” the guard pleaded. “The communications officer has detected transmissions between Vanadis and the Secondary Moon.”

         “What,” Tarnara asked with surprise.

         “Further monitoring has revealed that the Vanadian mining station’s Fission Reactor has been re-initiated,” the guard reported as stoically as he could.

         “How long ago was this detected,” Tarnara asked while glaring at the guard.

         “Approximately 12 hours ago, majesty,” the guard reported with hesitation in his voice.

         Tarnara slammed her fist against the arm rest of her throne chair causing the guard to flinch. “Damn them! First that alien murders my son and now the Vanadians blatantly break the treaty! This final insult will not go unanswered!”

         Tarnara opened a small compartment in the right arm of the Throne Chair and pulled out what appeared to be a golden key with an oversized ring-like handle. She then stood up and shuffled her way over to an electronic panel on a wall just right of her chair and inserted the key. When it locked in place the panel lit up with multicolored lights. Lylithia watched curiously as Tarnara pressed several buttons in a sequence. The panel then made several beeps indicating that the procedure was complete. A digital display then lit up showing what appeared to be a chronometer running backwards. Tarnara then looked at the guard with indifferent eyes. “You may go.”

         The guard gave Tarnara the customary bow and then left the chamber in a quick paced march.

         Lylithia appeared perplexed. “What is so significant about the Vanadians reactivating their old mining station?”

         “Isn’t it obvious to you,” Tarnara asked rhetorically as she stared at the backwards running chronometer. “This must have been Trekell’s plan all along. He must have recruited the alien’s help knowing that my son would have no chance in the Tauri. He used the whole event as a ruse while they launched their mining ship in complete violation of the Treaty.” Tarnara then turned and glared at Lylithia. “With my son dead Trekell knows I am vulnerable now. He must be planning to stock pile the crystals before launching an attack to finish off my kingdom.”

         “You’re so paranoid,” Lylithia scoffed. “Their central power station nearly blew up the other day. Perhaps they are simply there to get a replacement crystal.”

         “It doesn’t matter,” Tarnara growled as she returned to her chair. “Now that I have implemented Protocol 17 they’ll pay for everything.”

         “What do you mean,” Lylithia asked with suspicion in her eyes.

         Tarnara giggled. “Why don’t you simply read my mind?”

         “You’ve planted a bomb on the Secondary Moon,” Lylithia realized with horror in her eyes.

         “I’ve never trusted the Vanadians,” Tarnara revealed in a vengeful voice. “When we abandoned our own mining station nearly 60 years ago a powerful thermonuclear device was left behind, just in case the Vanadians reneged on the treaty.”

         Suddenly, Lylithia had a revelation. “The fire from the sky I remembered as a child; Jon had nothing to do with it.” She then glared at Tarnara. “It was you. You blew up the Secondary Moon and it rained destruction down upon us all!” Lylithia came over and seized Tarnara by her throat, pinning her to the back of the chair. “What is Protocol 17? What did you do?!”

         “The panel is a fail-safe transmitter. Protocol 17 is a radio code that has activated the nuclear device,” Tarnara wheezed with a defiant glare. “It will go off in three hours, destroying the Secondary Moon and the Vanadian mining station.”

         “You will rescind the protocol immediately,” Lylithia commanded angrily.

         Tarnara laughed. “Protocol 17 cannot be rescinded. The fail-safe transmitter can only monitor the countdown from this point on. The detonation cannot be stopped.”

         “Do you realize what you’ve done,” Lylithia yelled desperately as she lifted Tarnara up out of her chair and shook her like a rag doll. “YOU’VE KILLED OUR PEOPLE! The extinction I remember was caused by YOU!”

         “If the detonation results in our own extinction, then…so be it. I would rather see our race dead than be ruled by religious zealots or the future half-breed freaks from Obsidyanna’s mating with that contemptible creature,” Tarnara countered with hate filled eyes. She then grinned at Lylithia. “At least you’ll survive. You can be our epitaph.”

         “You’re insane,” Lylithia yelled at Tarnara with contempt. “Tell me where the bomb is…NOW!”

         “I will not,” Tarnara said defiantly.

         “Tell me where the bomb is or I’ll rip it from your brain telepathically,” Lylithia threatened with glaring red eyes.

         “I think not,” Tarnara stated with a defiant grin as she pulled her pistol from inside her cloak. Before Lylithia could react Tarnara fired it at her own head.

         Blood and pieces of Tarnara’s head splattered onto a startled Lylithia. She dropped Tarnara’s dead body to the floor in front of the Throne Chair and staggered backwards in complete shock and disbelief. Lylithia then went over to the panel and tried to remove the key but it broke off in her hand. The chronometer continued its relentless countdown as if mocking Lylithia. In a fit of rage she slammed her fist into the panel sending out a shower of sparks.

         “This cannot be happening,” Lylithia cried. “I cannot let my people die. Not again!” She went over to the window and looked up at the tiny speck of light in the night sky that was the Secondary Moon orbiting between Gaia and the large spherical Primary Moon. “I will not let it happen again.” Lylithia then vanished within a column of flames as she teleported away.

         Obsidyanna exhaled with ecstasy as she rolled off of Jon. While in a state of bliss she affectionately wrapped her arms around Jon’s chest as he gently stroked her feathered head.

         “Tell me, Jon; now that you remember everything, do you regret your time here?”

         Jon chuckled. “Of course not, why would you think that?”

         “I was just thinking…before you came here you must have had another life in the time you came from,” Obsidyanna surmised curiously. “…a wife perhaps?”

         “Yes…I did have someone. She wasn’t my wife exactly, but I did love her,” Jon told Obsidyanna. “However, from my current perspective, she won’t exist for another 65 million years.” Jon then grinned. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

         “Why would I be jealous of someone who doesn’t exist yet,” Obsidyanna giggled. “What was…or rather will be her name?”

         “Eckara,” Jon replied.

         “Pretty name,” Obsidyanna complimented. She then lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “Why did you come here, Jon? Why did you leave…Eckara?”

         “My journey to this Time Period was not my choice,” Jon explained with a sigh. He reached over and caressed the side of her face. “But sometimes…fate lays out a path that you just have to follow…to what ever awaits.”

         “Do you miss…Eckara,” Obsidyanna asked curiously.

         Jon smiled. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But I have a destiny to fulfill here, and you’re part of that destiny.”

         “I’m honored that the Maker chose me to be part of your destiny,” Obsidyanna acknowledged humbly. “I promise you, Jon, I may not be your Eckara…but I will do what ever it takes to make sure your life here is a pleasant one. We all owe you our lives…including me.”

         As Jon gave Obsidyanna a gentle kiss he wanted to tell her the wonderful future that lies ahead, including the fact that she will become Eckara in the distant future, awakening his powers and fulfilling the Paradox. But he also recalled Clyde’s warning that the Vekolth had to die in order for Mankind to evolve in the future. Jon could only hope that their end would not come in Obsidyanna’s lifetime.

         After separating from the kiss Jon noticed the moonlight streaming in from the windows glinting off of the necklace Obsidyanna was still wearing from her wedding. He reached over and touched it with curiosity. He felt the tiny hook at its base. “Your necklace seems to be missing a piece.”

         Obsidyanna rolled onto her back and ran her fingers over the necklace. “It belonged to my mother. The missing piece is a medallion that had our family crest on it. It’s been missing since before I hatched. Father told me that my mother lost it during her delirium. But I have my doubts.”

         “Why,” Jon asked.

         “When I was a little girl father once told me a story of how the Maker’s Avatar and his beautiful Vekolth wife visited my mother before she died,” Obsidyanna explained. “Supposedly, my mother gave the medallion to the Avatar’s wife, as a gift.”

         “Why would she give such a prized possession to a being she had never met before,” Jon asked curiously.

         “I don’t know,” Obsidyanna confessed. “When I got older I began asking father more detailed questions about the story. But each time I pressed him for answers he would always find an excuse to avoid my questions.” Obsidyanna sighed. “He eventually recanted the whole story, telling me that it was just a fable he invented to satisfy my childish curiosity. If I had but one wish it would be to see my mother one last time so that I could see what she really saw before she died.”

         Obsidyanna let out a deep sigh as she nestled close to Jon and began drifting off to sleep. Jon patiently stroked her feathered hair as he reflected on the story she had just told him.

         Lylithia screamed with frustration after having searched for over two hours in the ruins of the old Xian mining station without success. She had turned over every broken beam and collapsed wall and yet still no nuclear device was to be found.

         “Where could it be,” she asked herself desperately. “Damn you Tarnara!!!” Lylithia then realized that the Vanadian mining station might be able to help. They might have detection devices that could help her. Once the bomb was located she could then teleport it out into deep space where it would detonate safely. But would the Vanadians even believe her. She had no choice but to try.

         Obsidyanna felt a strange sensation of euphoria as she walked about the halls of the Palace while holding the wedding photo that Jakor had taken of her and Jon. She felt weightless inside yet her feet were firmly on the floor. She also noticed how the light seemed subdued, almost tinted to a more reddish part of the spectrum.

         “How are you feeling, my Princess,” a familiar voice asked from behind.

         When Obsidyanna spun around she was delighted to see Jon smiling at her. She then realized that she was fully dressed in the same silken dress she had worn at her wedding. She reached up and touched the Tiara on her head and then the necklace.

         “Am I dreaming,” Obsidyanna asked in an almost childish voice.

         “Maybe,” Jon said as he came over and held out his hand. “But then again…maybe not.”

         Obsidyanna took his hand and smiled girlishly. “If I am dreaming, how do I know that you’re not just part of my dream?”

         “Come with me,” Jon said as he led Obsidyanna to a familiar chamber in the Palace.

         “These are my father’s chambers. Why did you bring me here?”

         “To meet someone,” Jon replied with a smile as he then led Obsidyanna to the bedchamber. She gasped at the sight of a woman lying in her father’s bed, covered with a white sheet. Her abdomen was swollen, an obvious sign of an egg nearing its term.

         Obsidyanna recognized the woman. “That’s…my mother!”

         Obsidyanna also recognized the necklace around her mother’s neck. Obsidyanna reached up and touched her own necklace as she stared at the medallion that was on her mother’s version.

         Suddenly another Vekolth woman came into the chamber, walking right past Obsidyanna and Jon, as if they were not even present.

         “Why can’t they see us,” Obsidyanna asked with surprise.

         “All in good time, Princess,” Jon told her. “Now watch.”

         “Are you ready, my Queen,” the woman, a Royal Midwife, asked as she positioned herself at the foot of the bed and lifted the sheet exposing the Queen’s lower body.

         “As ready as I’m going to be,” Obsidyanna’s mother replied in a labored voice as the Midwife slipped on rubber medical gloves and then placed one hand on the Queen’s abdomen in preparation of the egg laying.

         As they spoke Obsidyanna noticed how their voices seemed to have a strange echo. It was almost as if what she was seeing was delayed in some way.

         “Push, my Queen…,” the Midwife instructed. “You can do it.”

         Queen Tirana moaned as she labored to expel the egg from her Plague weakened body.

         “Jon,” Obsidyanna said in a nervous voice. “Please…tell me that this is just a dream.”

         While standing behind Obsidyanna Jon leaned close and with his hands gently on her shoulders he whispered, “This is no dream, my Princess. You are witnessing a very historical event.”

         “Great Maker,” Obsidyanna gasped with awe as she witnessed her mother laying the egg.

         “And there it is,” the Midwife announced as she stood up holding the forearm length oval shaped egg. She took a white cloth and quickly wiped the thin layer of mucus from the egg’s blue mottled surface. After setting the egg in a bassinet cart the Midwife then picked up a medical device and began scanning the egg.

         “Is the egg…healthy,” Tirana asked in a labored voice as she breathed hard from exhaustion.

         “From what I can tell the egg is perfectly healthy,” the Midwife assured. “And from the markings on the shell the embryo will be a female.” The Midwife turned and gave Tirana a happy smile. “Congratulations majesty, you’re going to have a Princess.”

         Tirana sighed with joy as she closed her eyes.

         “Oh…Jon,” Obsidyanna cried. “That egg…is me!”

         Suddenly, Trekell came into the chamber.

         “Father,” Obsidyanna gasped as she watched him come over and address the Midwife.

         “Guard this egg with your life,” Trekell told her in a soft but firm voice as he leaned over the bassinet and caressed the egg with one hand. “This could be our only heir to the throne of Vanadis.”

         “You have my word majesty,” the Midwife assured Trekell. She then slowly pushed the bassinet out of the chamber.

         Trekell went over to his Queen and smiled with pride as he pulled the sheet back over her and then knelt down beside the bed.

         “I am so proud of you, Tirana,” Trekell said as she opened her eyes and smiled at him. “You’ve carried and born a healthy egg despite the pain of the Plague. You have assured the continuance of our family’s line.” He then kissed her on the forehead.

         Tirana began to cry. “I am dying, my husband. I fear…I will not live to see our daughter hatch, let alone take the throne of Vanadis.”

         “Don’t say that,” Trekell told her in a commanding voice. “You will live, and you will see our daughter married to a fine Prince. I promise you.”

         “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, my husband,” Tirana warned.

         Trekell caressed her cheek. “Get some rest. I shall return shortly.” He then stood up and left the chamber with the door sliding shut behind him. Tirana then closed her eyes again.

         “Jon, why am I here,” Obsidyanna asked in a nervous voice.

         “You’ve dreamed of meeting your mother since childhood,” Jon reminded Obsidyanna. He then gestured at Tirana. “Think of this as my wedding gift to you, my Princess.”

         Suddenly, the chamber’s appearance lost its reddish tint and the light was now at normal levels. Obsidyanna felt a moment of vertigo as the sensation of gravity returned to her body.

         Tirana gasped as she opened her eyes and beheld Jon and Obsidyanna.

         “Who…are you,” Tirana asked Obsidyanna with wide eyes. “You wear the Tiara of a Royal Vanadian, yet I do not know you.” She then looked at Jon with frightened eyes.

         At first Obsidyanna was stunned, unable to speak. She had to take a deep breath to compose herself. She then slowly came over and sat down next to her mother. Tirana was too weak to move away but she was clearly afraid.

         “Please…don’t be afraid,” Obsidyanna pleaded as she gently placed her hand on Tirana’s arm. “I know that this is going to be hard for you to accept, but…I am your daughter.”

         Tirana shook her head negatively in disbelief. “No…you cannot be my daughter. My daughter is yet un-hatched.”

         “I’m…from the future,” Obsidyanna told her hesitantly. “I am what the egg you just laid will become…in 20 years.”

         Tirana then looked closely at Obsidyanna’s face and sighed with recognition. “Yes…I can see your father’s eyes in you.”

         Obsidyanna smiled with joy and relief.

         “How is this possible,” Tirana asked desperately.

         Obsidyanna gestured at Jon. “I was brought here…by my husband.”

         “Your husband,” Tirana said with surprise as she looked over Jon’s form with intense curiosity. “You wear the clothing of a King, yet you are not Vekolth. What manner of being are you?”

         Jon stepped slowly over to the side of the bed opposite of Obsidyanna. He smiled at Tirana. “Your people came to call me…Jahnus.”

         Obsidyanna appeared surprised that Jon used the name she had given him instead of his real name.

         Tirana, however, gasped at the name. “Jahnus…you’re the Maker’s Avatar?!”

         “In a way,” Jon told her. “It would be more accurate to say that I am…a traveler.”

         “Why have you come here,” Tirana asked as she looked back and forth at both Jon and Obsidyanna.

         “To fulfill a wish,” Jon answered as he looked at Obsidyanna and smiled. He then looked into Tirana’s eyes. “You were afraid that you would not live long enough to see your own daughter, and in the future your daughter longed to meet you. It was within my power to help both of you realize your dreams…and to keep history as it should be.”

         Tirana cringed with pain. Obsidyanna looked at Jon with pleading eyes. Jon responded by placing his hand upon Tirana’s forehead. His hand glowed momentarily and Tirana’s pain was relieved.

         “Can you help her,” Obsidyanna asked Jon desperately. “Cure her of the Plague?”

         “No,” Jon replied with a solemn expression. “I can only relieve her pain, not her fate. History cannot be changed.”

         Obsidyanna sighed with sadness and began to cry.

         “Do not cry child,” Tirana said as she touched the side of Obsidyanna’s face. “Jahnus is right. If it is my time to die then at least I can die knowing that my egg survived and hatched into a beautiful Princess. I am fortunate to have received such a miraculous gift.” Tirana then reached over and touched Obsidyanna’s necklace. “Where is your medallion, my child?”

         Obsidyanna paused as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Father told me that it was lost before I hatched.”

         “It will never be lost,” Tirana said as she unhooked her own medallion and handed it to a shocked Obsidyanna. “Take mine.”

         “Oh…Mother,” Obsidyanna gasped as she carefully attached the medallion onto her necklace. “It is so beautiful.” Suddenly, Obsidyanna’s mouth gaped as if having an epiphany. She looked at Jon with wide eyes. “I understand now.”

         “What is your name, my daughter,” Tirana asked. “What did your father come to call you?”

         “Obsidyanna,” the Princess replied with a smile.

         “A stubborn one,” Tirana remarked curiously. “I wonder why your father came to call you that.”

         Obsidyanna chuckled. “I was pretty rebellious as a child.”

         “You weren’t called ‘Obsidyanna’ from the day you hatched,” Jon asked curiously.

         Obsidyanna looked up at Jon and smiled. “When we hatch we receive a simple designation, such as ‘First Child of Trekell’. Only when we get older and our personalities develop do we receive a more appropriate name.”

         “Interesting,” Jon remarked.

         “I was quite a handful as a child,” Obsidyanna joked. “I was always sassing back at the tutors, challenging authority. It was on my tenth hatching day that father gave me the name.”

         Tirana suddenly had a need to sit up. “I wish I had my camera. This is a moment that should be preserved.”

         Suddenly, Obsidyanna remembered that she was still holding onto her own photo. “Here…you can have this one.”

         Tirana sighed with joy as she looked at the photo. “This is beautiful. I am so happy to see that your father lived long enough to preside over your wedding.”

         “I wish you could have been there,” Obsidyanna said as she fought back tears.

         Tirana held the photo close to her chest and looked into Obsidyanna’s sad eyes. “I will treasure this for all my remaining days.”

         Suddenly, there was the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor outside the chamber.

         “Your father’s returning,” Tirana stated with nervous certainty. She then looked at Jon and Obsidyanna with urgent eyes. “He must not see you here. He will not understand. You must go…now.”

         “But mother…I have so many questions,” Obsidyanna pleaded.

         “There’s no time,” Tirana insisted as she gestured for Jon to take Obsidyanna away from the bed. She cried almost childishly as Jon pulled her away as gently as he could.

         They could hear the footsteps nearing the door. Tirana looked hard at Jon and Obsidyanna. “Go…now!”

         Suddenly, Jon raised his hand and the room fell silent. Obsidyanna appeared to be frozen like a statue. Tirana and Jon, however, were not.

         “Great Maker,” Tirana exclaimed. “What did you do?”

         “If you don’t mind, majesty, I need to have a little talk with you,” Jon told her as he stepped away from Obsidyanna and sat down on the bed beside Tirana.

         Tirana looked at Obsidyanna with a perplexed expression. “Why is everything so still…so silent?”

         “I simply took you and myself outside of space-time,” Jon explained. “But you already know that…don’t you?” He then looked into Tirana’s eyes with an expression of recognition. “You’re not just Obsidyanna’s mother…are you?”

         Tirana grinned. “You have matured indeed, my son. How did you know that I was not what I appeared to be?”

         “When I took your pain I sensed your consciousness beneath Tirana’s,” Jon stated with a smirk. “Why are posing as Obsidyanna’s mother?”

         “This body is Obsidyanna’s mother,” Tirana explained. “But Tirana died from the Plague days ago. I knew what was at stake so I intervened by merging my life force into Tirana’s body. In essence Tirana is still herself. She has her own memories, her own will. For the most part I am merely a spectator watching through her eyes. But it is my life force that is sustaining her…at least until she does what needs to be done.”

         “This is something I would expect Clyde to do,” Jon said with a smirk. “What happened to your personal policy of ‘non-interference’?”

         Tirana smirked back at Jon. “I see that you’ve been talking to your step-father.”

         “He was very…informative,” Jon grinned.

         “To answer your charge; I was not interfering, I was preserving what is meant to be,” Tirana told Jon. “With Obsidyanna’s future now secure I can allow Tirana’s life to end…as it was meant to.”

         “Not right away, I hope,” Jon grinned. “Tirana still has a few stories to tell her husband. Not to mention that photo Obsidyanna gave you. How will you explain that to the King?”

         “Do not worry, my son,” Tirana assured Jon. “Tirana will fulfill her destiny. The history that Obsidyanna remembers about her mother will be preserved.”

         “Tell me, mother; is Clyde right,” Jon asked curiously. “Are the Vekolth really doomed? Is their extinction the only way to preserve the future of Humanity?”

         Tirana sighed. “I’m afraid so, my son. For you see, to every sentient race there are only two possible futures; they either evolve to the point where they put aside their primitive past and ascend to a higher level of being, or they destroy themselves. A million years ago I planted the seed of civilization among the primitive tribes of Vekolth on this world, but like any garden some flowers never live long enough to blossom. The Vekolth were simply not ready…to blossom.”

         “And there is nothing that can be done for them,” Jon asked sincerely.

         “Their current biological forms are not long for this world,” Tirana said with a sad expression. But then she appeared hopeful. “Their souls, however, will not be forsaken. They will be reborn into the next sentient race that is destined to evolve here.”

         “Are you saying that the Vekolth will be reborn as…humans,” Jon asked curiously.

         Tirana nodded with a smile of certainty.

         Jon chuckled. “I guess that explains why the Vekolth culture reminds me of my own. Perhaps they’ll get it right the next time.”

         Tirana then reached over and took Jon’s hand. There was a glow in Jon’s eyes as his mind was infused with new memories.

         “What was that for,” Jon asked curiously.

         “When their end comes you will need to take Obsidyanna to a safe time and place. I have just given you that knowledge. Use it well, my son.”

         “Good-bye, mother,” Jon said as he gave Tirana a kiss on her hand. Jon then stood up and went back over to Obsidyanna. He then looked at Tirana one last time with affection and then let time resume its course. At that moment Jon’s mother let the real Tirana’s mind re-emerge to full consciousness.

         “I won’t forget you,” Obsidyanna cried out as Jon wrapped his arms around her.

         Then, just as Trekell pressed the button to open the door they vanished within a glowing shimmer of sparkling light.

         Tirana, only remembering up to the moment before Jon froze time, slipped the photo under her pillow just as the door began to slide open.

         When Trekell entered the chamber he found Tirana alone in her bed. He glanced around, as if looking for something.

         “Is everything all right, my husband,” Tirana asked with as straight a face as she could muster.

         “I thought I heard voices while in the corridor,” Trekell replied as he came over to Tirana’s side. He noticed how she seemed more rested. “Are you feeling better?”

         “Yes…much better,” Tirana acknowledged.

         “You’ll be happy to know that our egg is now safely in the incubator,” Trekell informed her. “Doctor Grekar says that if all goes well she should hatch in about 30 days.”

         “I know,” Tirana said with a grin. “She will hatch and become a beautiful Princess, and she will marry…the Maker’s Avatar.”

         Trekell chuckled. “The Avatar…now you’re just wishing for a fantasy.”

         “Perhaps,” Tirana said as she lay her head back onto the pillow and closed her eyes to rest.

         Trekell then noticed that Tirana’s medallion was no longer on her necklace. “Where’s your medallion?”

         “It is safe,” Tirana replied in a cryptic voice without opening her eyes. “It is with our daughter…in the future.”

         Trekell sighed with disappointment. “You lost it, didn’t you?”

         Tirana simply smiled happily as she went to sleep.