The audience cheered madly as the actors of the play walked onto the stage, one by one, in their elaborate costumes. Wide, wide smiles were glowing brilliantly on their faces, a monument as to how much they enjoyed their work too. It was the glow of hard work and satisfaction, and the storm of applause was their due.

Gaius smiled at the relaxing sight. It was something he himself would probably never be able to relate to, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel happy for these kids, who had completed a (relatively speaking) grand undertaking. Cries for an encore filled the place, but it seemed that that particular play didn’t prepare one for the crafty parents.

Orb shuddered as Gaius fished a piece of coloured paper out of Nakama’s hair. His heart clenched up, and a jitter ran up his spine as a tremendous presence registered in his mind. The stage was somewhere indoors, but he didn’t need to see what was going on to know it.

A great god was descending.

An image floated into the forefront of his mind. A long, scaly dragon, with eight pairs of talons, was roaring, as it streaked across the skies. Grey skin, marked with regular red dots, glowed and darkened at a systematic beat. The earth shuddered, and trees grew visibly as the dragon — it had to be — flew through the skies and vanished into the horizon.

“That’s Aldnath, the Eternal Cadence…” Isabelle murmured. The pressure emanating from the dragon doubled, and for a moment, Gaius’ heartbeat slowed to a halt. The boy attempted to move, only to realise that the whole of the hall, and probably the Eastern Territories, was now moving in an area of slowed time. Something swirled inside him, and the boy suddenly found himself free from the unnatural flow of time.

A second later, the movements of everyone else returned to normal, but unlike the elemental great gods, Gaius could still feel the incredible existence of the god of time. Even without looking outside, the boy had the feeling that no new star had appeared in the sky…and that a long dragon was probably visible if he stuck his head outside a window for a gander.

“I can still feel it,” he said. “Nexus, what’s going on?”

“The dragon of time and fate doesn’t have a fixed residence,” the sculpture replied. “In fact, Aldnath was the last god I’d expect to even descend onto Orb, yet…”

Nexus shook his head. “Well, at least we now know what a dragon looks like.”

“What are you talking about?” Gaius asked.

“You forgot?” Nexus tilted its head. “Never mind. It’s okay if you forget. But this, at least, solves the problem that would have occurred if Hereward or Anren descended.”

“What problem?” Isabelle blinked.

“The possibility of yet another battlefront opening up starting up,” Gaius replied. “Am I right?”

“Oh, you’ve grown somewhat smarter,” Nexus replied. “Congratulations.”

“Even a stopped clock gets it right twice a day, little fella,” Gaius replied. “By now, I’ve learnt to expect a few things about Orb. That handprint on the wall just tipped me off way too much. Should I start running soon? Before I end up as dragon chow?”

“Are you alright?” Isabelle asked.

“Never better,” the boy replied. He paused for a moment. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I apologise.”

“You really don’t sound that fine to me. What do you think, Nakama?” Isabelle asked, her face now uncomfortably close to Gaius. The boy scooted backwards, an empty box of food sliding off his lap at the same time.

“Something’s definitely wrong,” Nakama answered, her head nodding seriously. “If my brother was alright, that box wouldn’t have slid off.”

“Right?”

Gaius looked at the two girls conversing worriedly, and restrained an urge to slap his forehead. “That’s not it, ladies.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Nakama asked.

He sighed. “I’m just…frustrated. This whole time, the road I’ve chosen turns out to be something someone else has laid out for me. Are these thoughts mine? My feelings, my emotions, are they real? If my path has been laid out and everything arranged for me…”

Gaius couldn’t help but think back to the first time he entered the Library. He had no issue with following Yong Yue’s arrangements, but this…was different. No one told him anything. He just did.

Nakama blinked. “If you think it’s real, it’s real. If you think it isn’t, it isn’t. Stop thinking of the weird things!”

“Exactly,” said Isabelle. “I don’t believe my feelings and emotions aren’t real. And nor should you. Besides, maybe that handprint thing was just a long shot. Even the gods aren’t all-knowing, right?”

“That’s true, but—”

“From what Xanadu said, that wall had to be sitting around for a really long time,” Isabelle continued. “Who’s to say that you’re the only person who can see and press that handprint? That’s arrogance. And I’ve spoken with scions of the Southern Houses before.”

“Look,” said Nexus, “there’s no point in you pondering about issues like these. If you were really guided here, through plots a hundred thousand years old, the great gods must be beyond bored. They wouldn’t even be in such a vulnerable state. Someone did something to that wall, true, but it didn’t mean that they had guided you the entire time here. That seriously doesn’t make sense.”

“Really?” Gaius stared down at his hand.

“Yes, really. Only someone insane and insanely mighty would even have a shot at that,” Nexus replied. “There are so many variables. No, I’d say that the events of today are sheer luck. Cast your net wide enough, and you’ll eventually get a bite or two.”

The boy breathed out slowly. He was convinced — for now, at least — and then picked up the empty box that had fallen onto the ground. Now that he had calmed down, the possibility that he had been a toy of fate didn’t scare him that much anymore. What the others had said made sense. But more importantly, his gut told him that his emotions right now — attachment, worry, concern, love — weren’t faked. They were as real as they could be.

He patted Nakama’s head, and sat back as the exhibition returned to normal, with a new play being set up, enjoying what little time he had left with Nakama and Isabelle.