This chapter was really fun to write, but I had to be careful about how much I revealed... which was absolutely killing me. Thankfully it didn't take me eight months to write, either, so that's a positive! Anyway, for those of you craving some more Allen, here's your chapter! :)
Thank you, everyone, for staying with me for this long!

Lavi has had dreams about flying- before becoming a dragon, of course- and the spell Walker cast on him seemed to bring him into one. The earth below their feet sank. Not like it would if he were standing in quicksand, but rather it dissolved into blackness, and the scenery abruptly changed. They were standing in a river bank, though as the water flowed past his ankles and should very well be roaring past him, he neither heard nor felt anything. They were standing in the shadow of another massive bird of prey, although this one was unlike the electric raptor he'd narrowly escaped from. Its wings were instead rippling under the light, its feathers translucent and watery. It should have been swooping in to attack them, Lavi thought, but instead it simply remained, hovering over them like a giant wax statue.

"Is that thing real?"

"Yes," Walker answered, a plaintive smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Then why isn't it moving?"

"It is moving. It's just in a slower timestream. We haven't left the Spires, either. This is all taking place in your mind- a vision of a real place, as it is."

There were several islands scattered both up the river and down, of various sizes and shapes and each displaying a different event. On one island, there was a man cloaked in a gown of purple satin, his torso twisted around and his arm outreached, palm outward, as if trying to block something coming from behind him.

"He was a Magister's Initiate, long before even Cross's time," Walker explained, noticing Lavi's eye on him. "An initiate of the Magistrates doesn't often survive apprenticeship. This poor sod walked right into his own banishing portal. I'm not certain what had been chasing him- something bad, if I am to read the look on his face. Whatever it was is long dead by now. I don't think he'll ever make it out of there, either. That timestream is one of the slower ones. I think the only development in there for three hundred years has been his mouth opening. He must be shouting."

Walker began moving up the river, and Lavi followed him. It slowly began to dawn on him just what this place was, although Lavi honestly thought it was merely an old legend.

"This is the Timeless Isles, isn't it?" Lavi asked warily. The warlock nodded. The Timeless Isles were an anomaly of time and space alike, the very centre of dimensional speculation. Each little island operated in its own timestream, so even if one were to remain there for only a few seconds, a century could pass in the real world. Even the opposite could happen. One could spend an eternity inside an island and leave that timestream only to find that time had in fact not moved since you entered it. It could be devastating to the psyche. Walker halted his march, and pointed to an island about twenty yards upstream.

"There," he said, and Lavi could hear the sudden discontent in his tone. Lavi followed his gesture, seeing an island occupied by a lone figure, tall and faceless, except for the disconcerting grin plastered on his face like a mask. He was running, or at least he looked like he might have been. He was reaching for something ahead of him, and Lavi saw it when he squint his eyes. It was a tiny, black stone. The man's long, slender fingers were coiling around it, but it wasn't quite touching his skin yet. Walker seemed crestfallen.

"So… what about him?" Lavi finally asked, after allowing the boy a long reprieve.

"He is the calamity. Millennium."

"No way-!" Lavi faltered, "He was banished thousands of years ago by the First Magister, Mana. Wait… Mana banished him here?"

"Yes. He wasn't supposed to be able to escape either," Walker said, "Unlike the other isles, this one is warded. The last of Mana's power was used to keep Millennium from simply walking out of the timestream. He is physically incapable of freeing himself. Unless he is afforded aid…" Walker trailed off. His eyes seemed to be focused elsewhere on the island.

He then turned his attention on Lavi. "I am the direct descendent of the First Magister. I am also the chosen vessel of Nea, shepherd of the Millennium Incarnate."

"Millennium incarnate? Do you mean this demon laid some eggs before Mana banished him?"

"Er, not exactly. He did, so to speak, but they aren't his children. Millennium left traces of his power in the world before he ended up here. His powers each found a human host and attached itself to their souls. When those men and women eventually passed on, their spirits became immortal- at least as long as Millennium was still alive somewhere- and so far they have lain dormant."

"How do you know all of this?" Lavi questioned him. Walker was beginning to grow impatient with his questions.

"Nea told me. Before Nea chose me, I was simply an initiate. I was training under Master Cross, of Westreach, but once he noticed Nea's presence in me, he tried to kill me. He even tried banishing me, and I narrowly escaped becoming one of these statues in the river.

But Cross didn't understand Nea. He wasn't- he isn't- like the rest of the Incarnates. The others want Millennium to return, they want him to rejoin them on the mortal plane and reshape the world to their liking. Nea is different. He sees the beauty that is the earth, the thriving ecosystems and complex organisms that inhabit them. He wants to protect it. I have lived long in the Devil's Wood, the old stomping grounds of Millennium himself, trying to restore it. I've come to realise this task will be impossible so long as Millennium continues to live."

"So," Lavi said slowly, "You want to kill a demon, so that you can return your forest to its former green… ness."

"That about sums it up, yes." Walker smiled cheerlessly. "Though, there is much more to it than just that."

"Boy!"

The Grand Magister's voice bellowed throughout the chamber, but it went unanswered. An irritated grumble followed. He was calling for his apprentice, who was decidedly engaged in more important activities such as not cleaning up a spilt wine glass his master had knocked over in his love-making.

"BOOOOOOOY!" Cross roared again, and this time he couldn't ignore it. He set the tome down and exited the study, apologising to the kitten napping quietly in his lap. It hissed at the sudden interruption, but recovered from its fall and scampered after the boy. It was a long walk across the estate, but he took his time, as he was not particularly enamored with whatever his master might want him to do. Sometimes his garden needed watering, or there was a spider, or he'd run out of bum tissue.

/Wait./ Nea warned him. His hand was only inches from opening the door into his office.

Nea?

/I feel a disturbance. We are not alone./

It's probably just his mistress.

/No, it is another like me. Tread carefully./

That was unsettling. The spirit had identified itself as the shepherd of the Millennium Incarnate, but also mentioned that no others had manifested themselves on this plane. If they did, he would know. He never did mention if they were a peaceful lot, but the warning he voiced just now made it seem like they wouldn't be friendly. Nea said nothing more, so he opened the door to Cross's study very gingerly, stepping foot inside as if peering around a corner to check for danger.

The man was seated before the window, wine glass in hand. He swirled his drink slowly, smelled its contents, then sipped, as if casually enjoying the sunset. This puzzled his apprentice, as he was expecting a much more wanton display of the man's passions to greet his eyes. His pet bird, Timcanpy, was sitting contentedly on its perch, clicking his beak at the door. Cross turned his attention from the window a moment.

"Come inside, Allen." It was an order. Nervously, he shut the door behind him and stepped to the centre of the room. To his left was a bed fit for a king, with silk tapestries surrounding it- which Cross never bothered with when exercising his libido- and bedding so damned soft one could sink into it for days. To his right was his "study", consisting of a long desk with a few books stacked on top, but behind it was a tall wine holder. Many emptied bottles sat on the undisturbed desk space. Next to it stood Tim's perch, and next to that was the mantle of his fireplace. Cross rarely put it to use except to arouse his mistresses, because otherwise he would just regulate the temperature of the room magically. It was about the only thing he did on his own. He usually found enjoyment in making Allen fulfill his needs manually, and without magic, because he could, and he was a cold-hearted bastard.

"Yes, master," he addressed the man weakly. Frankly, his calm composure was right now very frightening to him.

"Do you recall my visit with the Archivist this past fortnight?" Cross asked.

"I was not present," Allen said.

"I wish to relate to you what he told me. As you may have heard, he, too, has chosen a successor. I paid him a visit, you know, as it is my duty to approve of his selection. The old man handed over the boy, and when I held that child I knew there was an oddity about him. The Clan, as I'm sure you know Allen, share blood with an ancient race, long before our time. These people would hunt demons, then drink from their blood to gain immunity to their many dark powers. Over hundreds of millennia, it simply became a part of them. Of course, nowadays they come with some kind of defect, a common trait amongst them. This boy was born blind," Cross began to watch Allen fiercely, calculating his every move. Allen didn't like this. Nea was also silent, and it wasn't the sort of quiet in which he was lost in his own thoughts, but holding his own breath. Allen had to stop himself from holding his own.

"That is," Cross finally continued, as if he'd made no notice of his intense staring, "Until the boy was attacked."

"By what?" Allen dared to ask.

"A demon. The Clan is immune to such attacks, so it was unsuccessful, but the result was that the boy could see, albeit with only one eye. The other remained blind, and developed a star-shaped cataract. The Clan absorbs demonic power like air to a fire, and the result was a partially corrected defection. The Archivist claims that he was not born with it, and I'm inclined to believe him for one reason- "

/It is time to go./

Go where? He's got me cornered-

Nea tapped his vision. A shadow was slinking about the room, lingering between him and Cross as if indecisive about which one it wanted to make an entrée out of. It clearly did not favour Allen, as it closed in on the Master. The boy was petrified. Cross couldn't see it- it was one of Nea's special abilities- he could detect other manifestations of Millennium.

"-your eye maintains the same clouded look as the child's. The same effects. The demon has attempted to inhabit you, Allen, and I suspect it succeeded." He knew it, he damn well knew it. Cross was muttering an incantation, and Allen knew what it was for. He was trying to perform an exorcism. Golden, spectral chains erupted from under his sleeves and pinned Allen to an adjacent wall, sending a few bottles of old whiskey to war with the hardwood floor. They didn't win. The shadow seemed to smile in the moment before melting into the carpet.

Or, at least, he thought it did.

The kitten emerged into the room, and were it not for its now gleaming red eyes, he would think it just strolled inside wondering what all the fuss was for. It hissed at Cross, and before he could so much as utter another word, there stood a panther-sized feline in his path, making angry swipes at his neck. The chains released him, but Allen paused. He didn't know now if he ought to help rid of the cat, since it was clearly inhabited by the Incarnate, or make a run for it. Nea was vouching for the latter.

/I cannot ensure your survival should you choose to remain here longer./

Tim was pecking at the kitty's head ineffectually, and with an irritated growl and quick snap of the jaws, the poor crow was toast. He felt sorry for the animal. It had only tried to protect its master, but in doing so ended up losing its own life without any effort on the cat's part. He wanted to feel a little sorry for his cat, too, since it seemed the animal had so little self-awareness present in its tiny brain that the Incarnate was in full control.

He was left with little choice but to run. He edged along the wall while Cross was distracted by the giant cat. He'd only made it outside the door when there came a pained scream from behind him, and Allen knew it didn't belong to the cat. The fighting sounds began to fade ever so lightly into the background as he moved further along the hall. The closer he came to the exit, the safer he felt, but there still loomed a feeling of dread, as if escaping would not release him from the wrath Cross had promised. If spirits could squirm in discomfort, Nea was definitely doing that now.

/She has found me./ Nea said, and Allen suddenly knew where the dread was originating. Clearly Nea was not thrilled to see another of his kind join them. The feeling suddenly became so overwhelming Allen had to stop running. It was like an invisible rope had been tied around his waist and was holding him back.

/More approach. Be on your guard./ It was times like these that Allen was unsure if Nea was helping him or not. He warned him of dangers, certainly, but offered nothing by way of solutions. Allen himself was almost always the one finding ways out of a bind, or even hiding Nea's presence within his aura. At this time, however, Allen was more interested in knowing just how they had attracted these things.

/The Ark is being activated. Allen, you must make haste. I cannot ignore -/

Tell me what is happening, first, Nea! I will go no further until you do!

Nea didn't respond. Allen wished he could hear his thoughts the same way Nea heard his, but things didn't work that way. Nea had already taught him so much, though, and he just couldn't fathom the idea that he would be keeping secrets from him. But it seemed Nea was reluctant to speak now.

/The Incarnates can never be whole again until Millennium returns to this plane. They ALL seek to summon him, all save for myself. I am the shepherd, however. My duty is to bring together the Incarnates, so that they may activate his Ark, and that I would cast it off to retrieve our Father. But things have not fallen in place this way. My refusal to cooperate has forced their hands, and they assembled together without my knowledge. If I do not cast off the Ark as my duty dictates, there will be harsh consequences./ Nea finished, vaguely. It was starting to sound like there was no way out of this mess. The Ark he spoke of had to be a very specific vessel if it was used to pull a demon out of nowhere.

/It is not nowhere. He is somewhere./ Nea corrected him. /And the Ark is used to displace matter- be it through time or space. The place he is in requires travel through both to escape. His prison lies not in this plane, nor in this time./ His words left Allen perplexed, but he didn't have enough time to ponder them. The cat had snuck up from behind, and Allen spun on his heel in time to block its teeth from sinking into his throat, catching the feline's jaws on his raised arm instead. The animal bit down, hard, and Allen despaired that his bones were easily part of her chew toy. The cat did not waste time in pressing her full weight against him. Unfortunately, this jumbo cat was easily twice his size now, and Allen was pinned to the floor against his will. He spoke a quick incantation, and the cat became light as a balloon, literally- it began to rise toward the ceiling, and with a surprised and muffled yowl it crunched harder onto his arm, using it to anchor herself.

/Use my power, Allen-/ As Nea finished speaking, he felt a rush of cold water fill his lungs and he gasped for air. It felt like it was dissolving in his chest and spreading around his body, and as it did so, a chill came over him. It wasn't the sort of chill he would feel standing naked in the snow, but it resembled the jittery nerves one would get after absorbing too much caffeine. It was like Nea hit him with a Triple Nonfat Double Dark Magic Latte. The magic was so foreign to him, in fact, that it acted entirely on its own. It enveloped the cat briefly before it shrank back into a kitten again, although its fur was now positively bedraggled from the fighting. It looked mangy and the cuts on its sweet little face made Allen simply want to hold and snuggle the thing, but he knew it was beyond kitten play now. The cat rose to the ceiling with Allen's previous jinx, and it stayed there, bouncing off what was now a floor, and hissing at the illogical gravity it now faced.

Don't they have the same power? Why is it she hasn't thrown a curse at me?

/The host must be able to wield magic. It is unlikely the others will find the right vessel in which to cast their own, save for the formation of the Ark./

He wasn't certain what to make of that revelation. Did Nea choose him simply for his natural gifts? He wanted to think before now that he was just "compatible" as far as his shape and stature, physically. Things made a little more sense if one considered that the shepherd to these forces ought to have an edge over the rest. On the other hand, he remembered how Cross was totally ignored by the other, in favour of a cat, of all things. If it truly sought to destroy them, wouldn't it have taken Cross? It would easily have been able to kill them both if it had taken that route.

/She did not want us dead./ Nea interjected, again, vaguely. Allen grew weary of his nebulous choice of words. /Without their shepherd, the Incarnates are doomed to roam an eternity as mere specters. Their very existence would be in question. They can activate the Ark between themselves, but if it remains for too long without being casted, it will absorb itself, and create a void in time and space. Eventually, the entire world as you know it could be drawn inside, and simply cease to exist./

Oh.

The enormity of Nea's task finally hit him, and he now felt the rather crucial urge to complete it. His choice was to either allow the Ark to transform into what could only be described as a black hole, or summon Millennium, preceding untold consequences of its own. The other Incarnates left Nea with an impossible decision to make. From previous conversations with the entity in his head, Allen had learned that Nea was perfectly content without Millennium, much preferring the world as it already was. He knew Millennium would doubtless seek to liquidise everything beautiful in the world, and in its place erect his own vision of humanity's fate. But, as it was, allowing Millennium to do just that was the better of the two roads.

So… what is it we need to do?

/You won't like it./ There was an unmistakable cringe in his voice. /You must manifest the other half of the Ark and cast it to Millennium. When he gets his hands on it, he will be drawn from wherever he is to the gate created by the other Incarnates./

How do I do this?

/There is a blood price, Allen. It cannot be avoided./

A blood-curdling scream tore across the hall, drawing Allen from his thoughts. He raced across the threshold, fearing what he might find in the Master's Chambers where the sound originated. He threw open the door and nearly retched at the sight. The Mistress Lee was standing over what was once her husband, his remains scattered about the room as if he'd suddenly exploded. Her eyes were clouded over, like a zombie, but her facial expression seemed to hint that she was fighting for control of herself. She held her small daughter in one arm, a knife in the other.

/She intends to harm the child./ Nea informed him urgently.

Allen didn't need to be told twice. He hit her with a curse, binding her face to the wall. She dropped the knife, and the baby, but Allen was quick and managed to catch the girl. He held her as she wailed loudly into his ear. It was no use trying to placate her. The woman bound to the wall chuckled almost manically.

"You're too late," she spat, "Millennium comes." Her voice had a duotone to it, which Nea remarked was a telltale sign that an Incarnate held the reins. Then she, too, burst into a bloody corpse. Allen did retch this time, and it was difficult to keep the infant secure as his muscles shivered uncontrollably. He didn't have to hold her for long, however, because the moment he finished hurling, the girl literally flew out of his arms.

"To think I was intending to pass on my title to you one day…" Cross growled behind him. Allen didn't even turn around. He knew what he was thinking. The scene before him spelled it all out. There was no point in trying to convince Cross that it wasn't him that had killed the girl's parents. It wouldn't do to set aside Cross's rage, either, because he was now fully convinced that his apprentice was about to summon Millennium. And he was right about that.

/Allen, quickly, take the Ark-/

In a moment, Cross fired off a series of spells, one binding Allen's ankles together, effectively allowing gravity to do the job of dropping him into the portal Cross opened below him, and another binding his lips together in such a way it would be impossible to utter a game changing spell. It seemed like the longest second of his life as the force of his third curse hit him full force and sent him reeling backward.

His eyes focused below him, and he could see on to the other side of the portal- an island occupied by none other than Millennium, banished there eons ago by Mana himself. To him it would just have been a few days, perhaps even just a few hours ago that he was locked in battle with the legendary magistrate. Who knows how long it would take Allen to finish falling on his ass once he crossed that threshold. Nea would go with him, and without the shepherd on the other side, they would be trapped inside the Timeless Isles for the rest of eternity. For a moment, Allen considered the possibility that Cross had already figured this out, and by sending him into the same damnable prison as the demon, it would solve the problem entirely. And it would, if it weren't for the Ark.

There was no avoiding the inevitable, however, as Allen slipped into the portal. The green of the Island rushed up to meet him as he turned in midair, and in this moment he shared a particularly bewildered glance with the demon next to him. It seemed stunned by his sudden appearance, but his eyes quickly darted to the small, black artifact clutched in his hands. It shuddered in his grip, and just as suddenly as he appeared, he began to feel his being wink out of existence.

/Drop it! Drop the Ark!/

Just as quickly, the island disappeared again, and he found himself in an old study. Dust scattered under the impact of his landing, settling in the collected dreck of centuries. He sneezed.

Nea, what just happened?

There was no answer. Allen became worried. Nea? Nothing.

"Nea?" he called aloud. There was a mirror standing before him, covered by an old sheet that might have once been white, seemingly untouched for decades. Allen stood, carefully lifting it. It was surprisingly clean, almost like he was looking through a window. Usually, he could see Nea in his reflection, but it was only himself looking back, and he grimaced. He could still feel Nea's power… but Nea wasn't there anymore.

He suddenly felt more alone than ever.

Even though he had his master, he'd never felt truly free to talk to anyone until Nea came along. Cross never was the fatherly type he was supposed to be- he was more like the evil stepmother. He was supposed to be a trainer, a teacher. Instead, the only learning he could ever accomplish was a result of the nights spent pouring over massive tomes in Cross's library. There was little room to practice outside of cooking the Grand Magister's dinner, or doing the man's laundry.

Nea wanted to explore the world around him, leaving the safety of Westcliff's high walls to discover the vast expanse of nature beyond it. As Allen taught Nea about his world, Nea taught him things Cross would never dream of mastering. He told him about the other Incarnates, about their different mantles, and how all of them desired the return of Millennium. Nea told him what that meant for Westcliff, for the world. Nea never meant any harm. And now he was gone. It was like a darkness came over his mind.

His eyes searched for an exit, and he identified the door to his right. It was locked- in fact, as he attempted to jostle the lock free, the handle popped clean out of its socket. A light shone through it, illuminating the stray dust particles constantly on the move. There was something familiar about the view beyond the door. It wasn't old and dusty like the room he occupied. As a matter of fact, it was the same corridor his kitten was glued to the ceiling of.

He turned against the door, finally observing the room for what it was. It was the master's chambers, hidden away from prying eyes, never again ventured into after the deaths of the Masters Lee. Perhaps their decedents now occupied a different wing, this very room long forgotten about and never spoken of since. For how long, he was unsure, but he knew for certain he'd spent enough time on the Isles to lose at least a decade in the real world. He vaguely wondered how it was he got back. Was it Nea's doing?

He crossed the room, spreading the drapes until the sand-like buildup parted, and he then drew them open, flooding the room in the afternoon light. The old flower garden was still there, now overrun with wild flowers, like a miniature jungle. The window slid open with a little added force, enough space for him to slip outside. He removed his boots, feeling the earth greet him as he stepped barefooted into the garden. There were veronicas and sage, astilbe and yarrow, dead crow and peonies…

He paused in mid-thought.

Allen channeled his reach into the earth, feeling the perished bird's presence and willing it to rise. It did so, in a burst of dandelion seeds, dirt spilling out of its awful cracked beak. There was a faint glow originating from inside of it. Strangely, he felt a sort of fondness for the creature, like one would feel for a street rescued beast. It flapped its wings experimentally, and the smell wafted unpleasantly to his nostrils, but he ignored it. Tim was always a good bird in life, and it was unfortunate that Allen's cat introduced it to his end too soon. It cawed weakly and hopped closer to him, and Allen knelt to pick him up. It would take a little bit of practice to get him airborne again, but he was sure it was possible. He would give Tim the freedom he deserved- to fly outside the confines of a crowded little study, into the wild blue yonder Nea loved so much. Without Nea, it wouldn't have been possible. Without Nea, Allen would still be a shut-in student, apprentice of the Grand Magister for an untold number of years. He owed so much to Nea, so much he could never repay.

"Caw," said Tim. Allen knit his brows.

"We've only just been reacquainted and you're already trying to give me life advice?" He inquired. The crow watched him quietly, and then began to preen his matted feathers. Allen's expression softened. "Well, I suppose you're right."

"Caw," he replied, knowingly. Allen smiled, determination setting in.

"Let's bring him home, then, shall we?"

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