As the fires spread across

the city of Epux

like locusts,

Emperor Zineus the 37th,

son of Areopagos the Deaf,

summoned his greatest

sorcerers,

sibyls,

and warlocks.

“The city is lost,”

he told them.

“But the Omniverse

must be protected.

Go to Mount Vein.

Go to the Time Cataract.

Protect the Permanent Now

from these

insects.

Protect

the Omniverse.”

Nearby,

the Empress Alumia,

hardly more than a child,

and seven months pregnant,

watched and listened

as her husband explained

his desperate plan.

Alumia kept her hands busy

and her nerves calm

with Eqidian embroidery,

a fiber art balancing

pattern and intuition.

She liked pretty pictures,

and she liked making them,

but there was more to it,

something her mind,

which was trained to be exquisite,

but not eloquent,

could not explain,

even to itself.

But she was glad she was not

a sorcerer, sibyl, or warlock.

Emperor Zineus

finished his instructions

for the spell masters.

One of these doomed fools

was the brash young warlock,

Xacto Dacto,

an androgynous android

with control of intense interdimensional

powers,

whose legend

had spread

across the Empire.

Dressed in a pointed,

wide-brimmed hat,

and flowing green robes,

he was electric with excitement.

Like all warlocks,

he had long, gnarled fingers,

golden glowing eyes

fixed in the black sphere of his head,

and his robes extended longer

than his slippered feet —

warlocks floated above the ground.

It is said that

Xacto was present

at this confluence of fates

completely due to his own ennui,

that he had missed his train

out of the city

days before the siege

entirely due to indecision

and an aimless heart;

and had he some intention,

he might have fled in time —

or, at the very least,

embraced what came to be

with certitude.

But,

while Epux was ravaged,

Xacto was instead

enlivened with the opportunity

for adventure and fame,

neither of which he really cared for,

but that he had convinced himself

would bring him redemption.

The lights in the Imperial palace

flickered.

The barbarians

were closing in.

“Go!”

Emperor Zineus commanded,

and the spell masters

walked out of the

wide halls.

The sorcerers, sibyls, and warlocks

would sneak out of the city

and pass underneath

the barbarian hordes

through ancient, subterranean byways,

travel North to Mount Vein,

endure the persistent cold

of the forever-rain,

and brave the dangers

and temptations

of Zydogast Castle

and the Time Cataract.

One of them was a traitor.

to be continued...