Hey, I'm back again! Thanks to RandomLittleWriter for being my first reviewer. I wonder, though, Random… have you played any of the games yourself? Since I got some reviews, (two…looks mildly annoyed at this) I'm adding another chapter. I hope that you enjoy reading Atrus' turn in the hot seat. I certainly enjoyed writing it. And I wonder what will happen to Sirrus and Achenar on their travels? And what of Saavedro and the book that magically fell from the sky? Well ...

Atrus took a tentative step onto the stage, looking for any sign of prying eyes. He never did like being in front of a crowd. He was always gripped by a powerful, icy fear whenever he set foot onto a stage – it bolted him to the floor, made the words in his mouth become jumbled and mixed into a tangled mess of nothing, and made him stare as if hypnotized. But if he had to do it…

He swallowed hard and fully stepped onto the stage.

Nobody was there. Nobody? he thought. How very odd.

Still, merely being on the stage made him feel slightly dizzy. Fortunately, there was a chair nearby. Atrus walked over to the chair and sat in it, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, so as to quell his overactive imagination from taking things too far.

"Know your stars, know your stars, know your stars, know your stars, know your stars…"

The sudden voice from apparently nowhere made Atrus jump as if electrocuted. He looked around the dark stage for a brief moment, trying to find who was doing the talking.

Still nothing.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "Atrus, you are letting your mind run away with you. There's nobody out there. Calm yourself."

"Atrus… ate three hot dogs and left none for his wife!"

Confused, Atrus looked around for the source of the voice again.

"What in the worlds," he asked, "Is a hot dog? And surely I would save some for my wife. I'm not a greedy person."

Atrus, you're talking to yourself. Calm down. I repeat, CALM DO-

"Atrus… likes to butter his arms and run around screaming 'I'm a muffin, I'm a muffin!'"

"That's preposterous!"

"Atrus… once, he let his sons draw a moustache and goatee on his face with permanent marker when he was sleeping!"

"I remember nothing of the sort!"

Suddenly, a bright light came on, causing Atrus to shield his eyes from the glare and turn to see an image of somebody who was obviously not him with a goatee and moustache drawn onto their face.

"But… that's not me!"

"Suuuuurrreee it's not…"

"But it isn't!"

"I can see the similarity."

Atrus was beginning to grow annoyed with this childish person, whoever it was.

"Will you kindly stop saying things about me that aren't true?"

The voice only laughed.

"Uh, how about… NO! Atrus… sleeps with a stuffed wahrk named Bobo and doesn't tell anyone!"

"I have no stuffed wahrk named Bobo!"

"Atrus… enjoys having his hands shoved in a waffle iron!"

"Wouldn't I have burns in the shapes of waffle squares on my hands if that were the case?" He lifted both of his hands to show them to nobody in particular.

"…Maybe."

Atrus glared at where he thought the voice to be coming from – a speaker mounted high above his head. Enough was enough.

"Atrus… was too dumb to realize that his father was a nutcase!"

"Oh, stupid, was I? Why did I trap him on Riven, then?"

"Because you wanted to be a meanie!"

"Would you kindly be quiet for a moment?"

"Meanie, meanie, Atrus is a meanie!"

"I am not!" Atrus yelled, surprising himself. He rarely yelled, and when he did, it scared everyone, even himself.

"Atrus… is scared of his own voice!"

Atrus' jaw dropped open. He couldn't think of a single thing to say without sounding like a total moron, which would obviously fuel this person's passion for taunting others.

"Now see here," he said finally, "You stop this right now, or –"

"Atrus… he just threatened me! He must be a dangerous criminal! Help! Police! Nine-One-One!"

To Atrus, of course, this sounded like a meaningless string of pleas and numbers, but nonetheless it was enough to rile him up.

"Atrus… he enjoys gargling mouthwash to the tune of popular rap songs!"

"I do what? With WHAT?"

"Now you know Atrus… the waffle-handed meanie who thinks he's a muffin!"

"What? You haven't said anything true about me at all! Come back here! Who are you?"


"I told you that the natives of this Age were tough," the Stranger said as Atrus sat with her in the dressing room.

"I guess you weren't kidding," he responded. "They really seem to know how to push other people's buttons." He sighed. "All we can do is explore and hope to find another linking book. Anywhere is better than here."

"Agreed," the Stranger said as she gazed off at the doorway. "What do you think, Catherine?"

At this point, she turned to face where Catherine had been sitting next to her, only to realize that she was no longer there.

"Oh, my God. Atrus, where is…?"

"I don't know."

Both slowly turned to look at the doorway.

"This isn't good," said the Stranger. "Not good at all."

Meanwhile, in Tohmahna…

"I don't know, Sirrus. They're not here. And I don't think that's a good sign…"

"Oh, will you quit your whining? It'll be much easier if mother and father are out! Yeesha's unprotected, so…"

"But what if she's not here? Father's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he isn't stupid, either."

"Achenar, it'll be fine. Just trust me, okay?"

"Pfft. Not on your life."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Sirrus was busily trying to pick the lock on Atrus' living room, trying to make some sort of progress. Well, if you could call using a sliver of crystal and a needle from some variety of odd Haven plant to pick the lock on a door 'making progress.'

Achenar watched his younger brother struggle idly with the makeshift lock pick for a bit, enjoying how obviously frustrated Sirrus was getting. And so, it was quite some hours before he spoke to him next.

"Do you need some help with that, dear brother?"

At this point, Sirrus looked like he was about to snap, but decided that he had better save his energy for later.

"Look," he said, turning to his smirking older brother, "You want to help? Why don't you just shut up for another half an hour while I -"

Sirrus never got to finish his question, because at that exact moment, Achenar charged full-speed at the door, flinging it open and causing him to collide with a wall near the fireplace.

"I got it!" he said, standing up.

Sirrus shot him a dirty look and entered the room, muttering under his breath all the while.

"Yeah… you got it… sure… I loosened the door for you…"

Meanwhile, in Narayan…

Saavedro held the book with trembling hands. Here it was, another demon book, having fallen from the sky. Why? Why was his past coming back to haunt him?

His first instinct was to chuck it over the edge of the tree… but then again, it was a book. And he couldn't bear to get rid of it, no matter what.

So, he hid it underneath his bed and forgot about it for a bit.

Tamra never questioned him about why he seemed so tense. He had gotten awfully good at hiding things over the past few years – he'd had to, in order to survive.

But all the same, knowing that he was hiding something from his wife ate Saavedro up. He had been hiding for so long… wasn't it time to reveal himself?

No, he decided, shaking the thought from his head. No. Some things should be kept secret. A person didn't have to share everything, did he?

Of course not.

Perhaps that's why he hid his departure from Tamra with a note saying that he left for a friend's house and that he'd be back soon.

Perhaps that's why he was careful to make sure of a way back as he withdrew the book from underneath his bed and made his way to the gondola.

Maybe this is the reason he took it to a quiet place – the place he had been trapped for twenty years, the place he said he'd never return to – opened the book, and solemnly linked out of his home world, watching the pink slowly, slowly fade into black.