Chapter Three: Ethan

Following my instinct, I pull Neriah out from the center of Arkarian's chambers – just in time to prevent a woman in wet robes from toppling on top of her, seemingly out of nowhere. The woman, wet curls shaking from the impact of her fall, lands gracefully on her feet before raising her hands triumphantly, bellowing, 'I DID IT! I LANDED!'

Every member of the Named is shocked. I instantly go on the defensive, even though no one has accused me of anything yet: 'It wasn't me, I swear! I can create OBJECTS, not people!'

But it's not me that our 'leader pure of heart' turns to; instead, Matt turns to Arkarian and begins shouting at him. 'ARKARIAN!' Matt yells, magnifying his voice just to show off his power. 'WHO is this girl, WHERE did she come from, WHY did you invite her, and WHY is she all wet?' Neriah moves to lay a hand gently on Matt's shoulder, instantly calming him down.

Arkarian looks just as curious as Matt does, although infinitely more tranquil about it. He takes a step forward, only to be propelled backwards by the strange woman's sudden embrace.

'Arkarian!' she screeches into his ear. 'Arkarian, I did it! I completed my mission AND I landed properly! Did you see me? Why is your hair blue? And longer? And why are your eyes violet? What happened to you?' Then the woman turns and notices me and Matt. I guess she decides to move on to me next, because she comes forward to stand in front of me and begins talking incredibly quickly. 'Oh, I'm so glad you made it! I thought you had drowned back there, you know… although you did look a bit younger then… And how did you get to be dry? After that tidal wave, I would've figured you'd be wet for at least a day or two! And YOU!' she exclaims, moving to stand before Matt. 'How did you transform into that dolphin and back again? Is it one of your skills, or can it be taught to anyone? Because I think it would be a very useful thing to be able to do, you know? And how come you're not dead? You were fighting the Goddess of Chaos, and yet here you stand! What are your skills?' Not giving Matt a chance to answer any of her numerous questions, the woman approaches Isabel and Neriah, who have taken sanctuary in a far corner. The woman points at the girls' legs and asks, confused, 'Aren't those uncomfortable?'

It takes a moment for everyone to realize that she's talking about Neriah's and Isabel's jeans.

Arkarian steps forward and gently tilts the woman's face towards his, looking deeply into her eyes. He surprises all of us by sinking to one knee, eyes wide. I can't help but laugh at Matt's reaction to having someone doing a reverence to someone other than him; he's got his hands on his hips and is staring wide-eyed from Arkarian to the woman.

Arkarian raises his head to look the woman in the face. 'Your highness! Why are you – how did you – where is your real body?'

The woman raises Arkarian quickly and commands him to address her by her name. This has us all speechless; no one commands Arkarian except Dartemis and Matt and the Tribunal!

I come up to look deeply into the woman's eyes for myself. Instantly I am falling into twin pools of brilliant green. I squint my eyes and suddenly her soul's true shape reveals itself: the woman's true body is pale, as if she doesn't spend much time in the sun, and her hair is pencil-straight and as black as the black irises that used to grow in Marduke's gardens… she is radiant. Although her eyes look familiar, but I don't remember from where. I KNOW I have never met this woman before. I'm certain I would have remembered someone THIS eccentric and curious.

'How do you know me?' I ask her.

The woman looks at me as if I am the most retarded person in all the worlds. 'Atlantis!' she replies simply. 'You and the boy with brown hair and the girl with electric hands were there, helping me to obtain the sphere!' I take a step back and lower my eyes at her mention of Rochelle; even though it's been six years since her death, it still hurts me to think about her… I know there was more that I could have done to save her life. I could have pushed her out of the way; I could have let Isabel come with me when I went to chase after Rochelle, seeing she was upset; I could have even let her go off alone and she might still be alive; my third skill should have picked up the danger, anyway! If it wasn't for me, Rochelle might still be alive…

'What's your name?' Neriah asks cautiously. Unlike me, Neriah tends to reserve her trust for people until she knows them well.

The woman looks confusedly to Arkarian, seeking help of some kind. Arkarian flicks a quick, worried look at me and urges the woman to give her real name instead of her false one.

'Call me Renate; I am a princess of France, so my whole name would probably be too long and complicated for you to pronounce.'

'Try me.' Jimmy steps out from the niche in the wall where he has been sitting all this time. Jimmy is good with tricks of all sorts, but he is an expert at traps. But it's still rare that anyone will dare to challenge him with any sort of riddle.

Renate suddenly rattles off a long line of vowels and consonants, arranging them into slippery-sounding syllables. It takes her a whole minute and a half to finish reciting her whole name, but Jimmy smiles confidently once she finishes. He stuns her by reciting the name, sound-for-sound (I seriously doubt there were any actual names or words in there).

'So who are all of you?' Renate asks. She smiles at Arkarian. 'Of course I know who YOU are… but who's she?' Renate points at Isabel.

Arkarian wraps his arms proudly around Isabel and smiles into her face, and it takes him a moment to remember that he still needs to answer Renate's question. 'This is my new wife, Isabel. Isabel, may I present my first ever Apprentice: Princess Renate of France.'

The whole room erupts into noise. There are cries of 'First EVER?', 'How old ARE you, girl!', and noises of general surprise. But the loudest voice is Renate's: 'Your WIFE! Wait a minute: when am I! What's with the long blue hair and violet eyes?'

'Your highness,' Arkarian begins, earning himself a wince from Renate for using her title instead of her nickname. 'It has been over six hundred years since your mission to Atlantis… My hair and eyes have changed naturally over time. And as for Isabel, she is my soul-mate.'

'But could you please tell me how Arkarian looked six hundred years ago!' Isabel asks eagerly.

'He's a lot more interesting-looking now. Before, he just had short black hair and sapphire blue eyes.' Renate suddenly looks critically at Arkarian. 'Yeah, that's about all that's changed about him. But then, he can't age past 18. Did he tell you that?'

'Yeah,' Isabel replies, laughing softly. 'I have the same skill now; it was granted to me by Lorian when I was sixteen.'

'And how old are you now?'

'I am the youngest here. I am 24. Ethan, Matt, Dillon, and Neriah,' Isabel lists off all of us younger members of the Named, pointing to each of us as she says our names, 'are all 25. Arkarian is something over 600, and Shaun and Jimmy are each somewhere in their mid-fifties. No one wants to ask how old they really are, out of politeness.'

'Hey, Dad!' I cry out sarcastically. 'How old are you?' Everyone laughs lightly.

Dad smiles at me mockingly. 'I'll be turning 19 next week,' he replies, his tone matching my own. This brings the house down, and the whole room erupts into chuckles.

Renate, on the other hand, looks at Dad seriously. She asks, without a trace of any joking manner in her voice, 'Oh, so one of your skills is aging in reverse? I'm sorry!' Everyone laughs now, but I can tell that Renate truly believes what she said.

But Renate doesn't seem to care. She turns to Arkarian and asks, 'So when do we continue training?' This brings everyone back to reality. Renate is not supposed to be here, and yet she is. Who knows what damage this could be doing to history? This is the Princess of France, for God's sake!

'Well…' Arkarian turns to look at me, and then looks back at Neriah. 'I would really like to personally research your history, to make sure no changes have been made to history yet, and to find a way to send you back to your own time period. But perhaps Ethan would like to take over as your Trainer…'

I look skeptically at Renate. Training her will be so different from training Isabel and Matt; unlike them, she looks as if she has not had to lift much more than a quill in her entire life. I look at her face, and suddenly I know why her eyes look so familiar: they are Rochelle's eyes.