It had taken a long time for Nista's heart to slow down and for his breathing to return to normal. Ganbri had quietly told the others that he needed some space and, luckily, they had simply backed off and directed them to a quiet room for some privacy. Ganbri sat beside him on a cot, kind and worried as always, and didn't talk other than the occasional reminder that he was there and they were safe.

There was a battle going on in the distance somewhere. In the time he'd been taking to get himself under control, he'd begun to hear thunderous explosions in the sky. They were far enough away to know that they weren't currently in danger, but near enough that he could feel the vibrations faintly through his feet on the floor. If the battle moved, it likely wouldn't take long for it to be upon them.

He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and turning his face to the floor. Ganbri put a hand on his back and he tried not to bristle at the touch. Ganbri's instincts were always to touch, to hug, to give physical comfort in some way, and it was hard for him to remember that touching could make the panic worse.

"Are you going to be sick?" Ganbri asked softly.

"No," he growled back.

"I think I might be sick."

"Go ahead. I won't tell."

Ganbri gulped audibly and, for a second, Nista thought he might actually take him up on the offer. He leaned away to stay clear of him but, when he looked back, Ganbri was still as a stone.

"How can this have happened so quickly?" Ganbri asked quietly. "Aren't we supposed to get, like . . . a break first? You're not even healed."

"The Bad Wolf doesn't give a shit if I'm healed."

Besides, he'd had a break. He thought about how bitterly he'd complained about being home and now all he wanted was to go back. He twisted his fingers through his bracelet and thought about doing nothing but boring chores around the house and cooking breakfast and watching shit crime documentaries all night.

Why had he complained so much?

"I want to go home too."

He pulled his lips back over his teeth. "Stay the fuck out of my head."

"Sorry," Ganbri sniffed. "It was an accident."

He knew that. Ganbri was used to reaching out for his parents when he was scared or upset, just like he was used to offering physical comfort when someone else was scared or upset. He was doing the wrong things but Nista tried to remind himself that he was only trying to help.

He sighed and reached out to grab Ganbri's hand and give it a reassuring squeeze before patting him on the knee. "We've got an army of Time Lords helping us," he said, pulling his hands back to himself and crossing his arms over his chest. "We'll go home soon."

They sat together quietly for a while. Nista tried not to think too much in case Ganbri accidentally wandered into his thoughts again. He didn't feel like answering questions now.

After a few minutes, the door pushed slowly open and the Master stepped inside. "You're going to need equipment," he said slowly. "Kahlia needs to measure you for armour."

"Yes, sir," they said in unison and began to stand up.

"Ah, she can only do one at a time," the Master cut in quickly. "Go along, Ganbri."

Nista slowly sat back down and eyed the man before him suspiciously. Ganbri stood up but hesitated leaving, casting a nervous glance between the two of them.

"Unless you would rather walk the battlefield unarmed and unprotected," the Master added loudly.

Ganbri straightened up. "Yes, sir," he answered quickly. "Sorry, sir."

Ganbri hurried from the room and the Master shut the door carefully behind him. Nista waited for him to speak but, instead, there was only a long moment of silence in which they looked at each other and he began to wonder if his thoughts were being invaded again.

"Did you just come for the view?"

"I need to shave your hair."

Nista's lips pulled back almost immediately. "No."

"Not all of it," the Master answered quickly. "But that wound won't heal with so much hair getting in it all the time. This mission could last for days and I can't risk you getting an infection. The hair has to go."

"Seems a little below your pay grade."

He shrugged. "It is." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a silver tool that was nothing more than a handle with a button on it. "You wanna do it yourself?"

He turned his chin downward and pulled his legs in closer to himself. He knew he was doing it and it annoyed him to be so transparent but he couldn't seem to help it. His neck ached where the Master fingers had dug in and it almost felt like the hand was still wrapped around his throat.

The Master sighed and sat down on the cot beside him. "Look, I just met you. Whatever I'm like in your world, that's a different person. I have a family to protect and a planet to fight for. I'm going help you get home but I don't have time to wade through your personal hang ups to get to the goal. I've seen your mind and we both know what the problem is. Let's just deal with it, okay?"

Nista turned to look at him and saw a burdened and tired look he'd come to be familiar with. Harry had always tried to give time and attention when something was bothering him—especially for break ups and other teen drama—but it was no secret that he had little patience for it. There was only so much sympathy he could give before Nista could tell he just wanted to be done with it. He supposed it was hard to sympathize with such trivial things when you've lived through a millennium of death and tragedy.

"You're usually a little more subtle," he found himself saying.

"Like I said, I'm a different person. I've go better things to do."

There would be no hiding from this one, he knew. Harry would back off if Nista shut him out. He'd let things go and try again later. But this wasn't Harry. This was the Master.

"I don't like people being able to see it," he admitted.

"I know," the Master answered with a nod. "But you also don't want it to go away. Trust me, I understand what it's like to feel rejected and think you deserve it. I'm also old enough to tell you that that is complete and utter bullshit." He held out the small silver tool, giving it a little shake to make it clear that he expected Nista to take it from him. "You went to war for your best friend and you got hurt doing it. That wound is a symbol of love and loyalty for your friend, not evil. Be fucking proud of it. Besides, Ru'ahn was the hero of the story and you know it."

He shook the tool again and Nista stared at it blankly. He cleared his throat and felt the bruising ache spread through his entire neck for a second. To the point, painful, but over quickly. It seemed to be how the Master got everything done. Perhaps it was better if he did the shaving himself.

He reached for the tool and the Master clapped him on the back. "Good lad. Now move your ass. We've got things to kill."

The door closed and Nista found himself alone, staring at the beautiful and ornate shapes carved into the doorframe. It was a beautiful home, clearly built for holding aristocrats and their social functions. But he could still hear distant explosions, almost drowned out by the sound of people in the other rooms, running around and preparing. Someone was screaming somewhere in the house. It didn't matter how pretty the world around him seemed to be—there was always something horrible waiting to come in.

The button on the silver handle turned out a small laser and Nista scoffed. Of course, a Time Lord wouldn't have something as simple as a razor. There was a mirror hanging on the wall to his right, with a beautiful frame that shimmered and changed colour as he moved. When he got closer to it, he noticed an old, dried smear of blood on one corner. Someone else had stood right here before and he was suddenly aware that they must have either gotten better or died. There was no third option.

The wound was far uglier and angry looking than before. Jumping through the void twice had not been gentle on it. Even with Tassiel's help, blood was still oozing slowly out of it and sticking his hair down. The flesh was red and swollen, making the horrible tear look even bigger than it was.

It was only a wound. Nothing more. The Master was right.

He brought the laser up and started before he could think about anything else. It was hot against his skin, almost burning. The hair fell away and exposed the enflamed skin to the world and the feeling of cool air against it was soothing.

He shaved away everything below the wound and swept everything above it over to the other side of his head. He thought it looked a little stupid, but the look had been pretty popular once so perhaps people would think he'd done it by choice, trying to pull off some kind of retro look. He tried to see it without looking at the massive gash that wrapped around his skull and decided he could get used to the look.

He brushed the loose strands of hair away, trying to ignore the sticky blood that made it cling to his fingers. He glanced at the smear on the mirror frame again and pressed his thumb just below it, leaving a mark of his own.

Another explosion ripped through the sky, making the entire building tremble beneath it. The battle was moving closer. Nista left to find his gear.

The room was alive with movement. People were flowing through the various doors like lines of ants, focused entirely on the job at hand. The Master, the General, and Kahlia were standing over a sea of papers on the table and talking animatedly, reaching over each other to point to one thing or another. Tassiel was standing in the center of the room holding a small screen in her hands. She had her own line of ants, approaching her one by one, waiting for her to consult her screen, receiving a quick order, and immediately moving out to follow it.

In the middle of it all was a surreal site. Ganbri, Berran, and Hannes were all sitting on the floor together, fitting together pieces of weaponry tech like little boys building a Lego set on Christmas morning. All three had wide and eager eyes, excitedly chattering as they shared their ideas and argued over whose was best.

Berran looked up at him then. His deep blue eyes had something to them that made it hard to look away and Nista instinctively lowered his chin when Berran grinned at him.

"I like the cut," Berran said, running his hand over the side of his own head as if to show what he meant. "Ganbri says you guys fight with staves."

"I'll fight with anything."

"We're trying to make you one with Skaro piercers," Hannes smiled from ear to ear and held up the piece he was working on proudly. "We figure you're too small to use the shields."

Nista looked the boys up and down. Ganbri was significantly taller and broader than both of them. Hannes was a wisp of a thing, no taller than Kevin and not as muscular. Berran was of a bigger build than his brother, but nothing impressive. Nista had no doubt that he'd have a harder time fighting Kahlia than either of her brothers.

"And you're not?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We don't use them either," Hannes answered matter-of-factly. "I'm a sniper. Berran does explosives."

Nista blinked. They were just kids, all three of them. He started to feel like he suddenly understood why so many people had looked at him so strangely when he was growing up. They always seemed confused and concerned to hear a child talk of learning to defend himself with such grave importance or showing such an interest in the ways of war. He's always thought humans were just soft and stupid. Now he was seeing how unsettling it was.

There were three children in front of him and all of them were deadly.

It was then he noticed that Ganbri's smile had died. He was looking at the wound and his eyes had taken him far away. Nista fought the urge to try to cover it up with his hands and turn away. People were going to look. He had to get used to that. He turned his attention to the leaders in the room instead.

No one said anything when Nista stepped up to the General's table. Kahlia gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement but the conversation continued without interruption.

There was a map on the table with several chess-like pieces positioned on it, showing that the Academy was heavily fortified and had several enemy camps positioned not far from its walls. The General was concerned over how other camps might try to take advantage of their attack and attempt to hijack it for themselves.

"The Academy is very valuable," the Master offered Nista as a quick explanation. "It's got all the good toys."

"The Crafters won't attack," Kahlia said, picking up one of the pieces and moving it aside. "They don't have the equipment or the numbers. They're scavengers. They'll wait until the fight is over and hope they can pick from the rubble."

The Master nodded and gave a quiet hum of agreement.

"Maybe the Crafters won't, but the Archivists definitely will," the General added, pointing to a separate piece. "Daleks are extremely reactive and there are too many of them to ignore. If they push us up against the walls, we wouldn't have much of a chance."

"The Serpent's Union are a smaller group than us but their leader is smart," Kahlia pointed out next. "She's turned far worse odds to her advantage."

Nista stared at the map and its pieces. He glanced of to the side and saw a small box that contained at least a dozen other pieces, each one shaped differently.

"How many armies are involved in this war?"

The Master took a deep breath in, hesitating. "We don't know," he admitted. "Depends on how many were wiped out today. Depends on how many new ones popped up. The war started between the Time Lords and the Daleks, but these days everyone wants a piece and it's every group for themselves. The Archivists are Daleks that believe stealing and adapting to other tech is how to survive. The Crafters are Time Lords that tried and failed to take over Gallifreyan rule when our last president was assassinated. The Union are a group built of survivors from other destroyed factions and they grow every day."

He looked up at the three before him and glanced about the room. They had a proper headquarters established, they were organized, and they even seemed to have uniforms in place.

"And who are you?"

The Master's mouth tugged up at one corner. "We're the Called Upon."

"We send some fire into the Archivist camp," Kahlia suddenly cut in. "Send Hannes to take out the Serpent's Head. Lugrin isn't nearly as clever as his wife and wouldn't be able to recover from the shock fast enough to organize. The Archivists would be too stupid to realize that it wasn't them and would just head for the commotion. Let those two fight it out, with the Crafters watching keenly, while we attack here." She pointed to the map on the furthest side of the Academy from the other camps.

Nista looked up at them in surprise. "Are they your enemies?"

"They're not our allies," the Master answered simply. "And it would create a lot of chaos. Chaos is our playground."

"It is," the General agreed. "Which is why they might see it coming."

"Not if we send Hannes," Kahlia argued. "Send him in while the rest of us stay back and wait. They wouldn't know we were there until it was too late."

Nista looked over at Hannes sitting on the floor cross-legged with his brothers, putting together pieces of scrap. "You want to send him on an assassination mission?"

"It's what he's good at," the Master replied without even looking up.

"He's a kid."

The Master looked up then, leveling him with a look that threatened all manner of consequences if he asked another question. "Who do you think assassinated the last President?"

Nista glanced over at Hannes again, at his easy and naïve smile, and felt a chill run through his blood.

"I want you to go with him."

Nista's eyes shot back to the Master's face. "What?"

"Stealth and hand-to-hand combat are what you're good at," the Master explained slowly. "You can protect him while he does his job, in case you're discovered. Ganbri will stay with us while we set up the attack on the wall."

"I can't leave Ganbri."

"He's my blood," the Master said firmly. "He's all of our blood. We'll do everything in our power to keep him safe. Hannes is our blood too, so I expect you to do the same. Now . . . go do what you're good at."

There was no negotiating here, he realized. This was not Harry and this was not Earth. He was going to help Hannes perform an assassination whether he wanted to or not.

"Yes, sir."

"Go get your gear."

It had been difficult to find armour that fit. Time Lords were not giants by any means but they were still large enough that most of their equipment left Nista feeling like a child trying on their parents' clothes. Eventually, someone was able to find armour that was almost small enough to fit him and they adjusted it with a series of tools he didn't recognize and some good old-fashioned creativity.

He looked up at one point to see Kahlia showing a shield to Ganbri, explaining to him how it worked and the techniques he'd need to use. Berran was putting the finishing touches on the staff that he and the other boys had put together. Hannes had disappeared.

The armour was lighter than it had looked but restricted his movement more than he cared for. They gave him a helmet but the pressure on the wound on his head was painful and distracting, so he quickly removed it. The Time Lord assisting him gave him a pointed look of disapproval but said nothing.

Berran approached him when he was finished, holding up a staff proudly. "Should you come across any Daleks, push this," he said, indicating a button near the center of the staff. He pushed it and the ends of the staff glowed with a faint blue light. "Those are Skaro piercers. The energy disrupts a Dalek's shield and lets you pierce the casing. Don't bother trying to attack one as long as its shield is still up. You'll just die."

He muttered a word of thanks and then found himself an empty corner to practice a little. He needed to get used to the feel of the armour and the weight of the staff. He kept reminding himself of what he was about to do but it didn't seem to be sinking in, like he was thinking about someone else. His mind just kept travelling home, wondering if Kevin and Annie had found their way back yet.

"Time to go."

Hannes had appeared next to him. He was dressed in the same armour, complete with the helmet, and had a massive rifle resting against his shoulder. He didn't look scared or nervous at all. He smiled as though they were only going for a competitive run together.

"You ready?"

No.

"Yeah."

"Then let's go."

If there had been a good-bye or wishes of luck between Hannes and the others, Nista must have missed it. He looked back just in time to see Ganbri wave to him before he was led into the next room.

There were three gates set up before him, each crackling with energy as several Time Lords busied themselves around the room. Hannes muttered something to one of them and they immediately set to work.

"This won't take long," Hannes promised.

It didn't. Nista still didn't feel like he quite had his bearings and suddenly one of the gates was coming to life. It roared with power and a bright light flashed across the gate. When the light faded from his eyes, Nista was looking at a hole that opened up onto red fields of deep grass.

Hannes stepped forward without a word. Nista followed him.

It was freezing outside. A chill instantly ran through his body and his breath appeared before him in little puffs of moisture. Hannes crouched low in the grass and set off at an impressive pace, holding his rifle tight against his body so as not to let it clatter about and make noise.

Suddenly, he felt like he was on Nu'akt again and an old, dormant sense of fear and determination came creeping out of the back of his mind.

Be quiet, he could almost hear Mother whispering to him. If you make a sound, you die.

He set off after Hannes, staying light on his toes and keeping his head down.

Don't let them see you.

He kept his eyes focused ahead of him, making sure he didn't lose track of Hannes in the grass.

Don't let them hear you.

He held his staff close to his body and pointed ahead, letting it part the grass before him.

Either they will eat you…

He could almost feel them out there—teeth in the dark. One wrong move and he'd die. He didn't even know how many could be out there, how many were listening, or how many were hunting, but he knew they were there.

Or you will eat them.

Hannes had stopped abruptly in front of him, but he already knew why. There was a sentry standing ahead of them, gun at her hip and eyes scanning the horizon. She hadn't thought to look down.

Nista rushed forward and struck out with his staff, knocking the back of her knees in. He whipped the staff around to strike her in the throat before she screamed and then grabbed hold her gun, just in case she still managed to collect her thoughts enough to reach for it. She did reach, trying to take it from him as he took it away, but her grip was already weakening and he easily shook her hands off.

Her mouth kept opening and closing, like a fish on the shore desperately trying to breath. The blow had crushed her throat completely and she was suffocating. Still, he didn't want to take risks. The blade fixed along the end of his staff slid through her flesh easily enough and her throat opened up like a second, gasping, red mouth.

She'd already stopped moving when Hannes came rushing through the grass again, passing him without so much as glancing at the body.

It took a few more minutes to reach the Union's camp but they didn't find any other sentries so far out in the fields. There were many patrolling around the perimeter of the camp but Hannes stopped before they were close enough to be any concern. The boy got down on the ground and carefully laid his rifle out, attaching small pieces and making little adjustments. Nista crouched in the grass beside him and watched.

Once Hannes was prepared, laying flat on his belly and carefully watching the camp, they waited in complete silence. Nista's ears were so focused that his head was starting to hurt, listening for an enemy in the grass walking idly by or creeping up for an attack. The wait felt like an eternity.

Finally, a bright light flashed across the sky and the sound of an explosion cracked through the air. The grass around them bent over in the shock wave and Nista felt heat rush across his face. The voices of hundreds of angry Daleks filled the air instantly and Nista could see the Union camp before him suddenly come to life. There were people rushing for cover, but plenty of others were emerging from their shelters to see what was happening.

Nista barely saw the woman who stepped from the entrance of the largest tent before she dropped. Hannes's rifle made just a whisper of sound when he'd pulled the trigger, and the boy himself didn't appear to have blinked or taken a breath as he lay in wait. It was over so quickly that he wasn't even entirely sure that it had happened yet.

More screams took to the air and Nista watched as people rushed forward to their leader, trying to figure out why she had collapsed so suddenly. He looked back just in time to see Hannes's boot disappearing into the grass and he took off again.

They were being less careful now, running as fast as they could at a crouch just low enough to keep them hidden. The chaos of the two camps was more than enough noise to cover the sounds of their breathing and heavy footsteps.

"Dalek!"

Hannes leapt to the side with only a second to spare, revealing a massive contraption hovering through the grass towards them. It fired and Nista leapt in the opposite direction that Hannes had, barely missing the shot.

"Exterminate!" it cried, whirling around to aim again. "Exterminate!"

Nista hit the button that Berran had showed him, activating the only weapon he had against the creature before him. The blue light seemed to ignite some sort of energy field surrounding the Dalek, exposing its shield and then burning it away. He drove the point of his staff forward and it pierced the metal shell encasing the being inside. He felt the blade hit something soft and squishy on the other side and the Dalek screamed as he drove it in further. He gave the staff a twist for good measure and the Dalek fell silent, the various pieces of the outer shell dropping down limp and the lights shutting off.

Hannes didn't stop to congratulate him. They ran again. They came across two more Daleks and a person who really could have been anybody. They never found out who it was. Like the Daleks, Nista had silenced them before they really knew that anyone else was there.

They spotted the Gatekeeper they were supposed to meet, crouching in the field ahead of them and, again, there was no time for words. The gate opened, they ran through, and Nista barely had time to register the room at headquarters before they ran through the gate right next to the one they'd just come through. Suddenly, there were Called Upon all around him, standing in silence, waiting.

The Academy loomed in the dark above them, large as a castle and decorated with all the pomp and circumstance of a cathedral. The sounds and lights of the battle they'd started roared up from the other side of the great building as though it were on fire, and yet the Academy did not stir.

"We are Called Upon!" the Master's voice called out over the crowd, far too loud for it to have truly been his voice. "To war! To victory!"

Nista did not see a single mouth move and yet an army of voices called back with a battle cry. It was being projected straight into his head, he realized just as the drum beat began. The soldiers began to move in time with the drums, keeping their formations tight as they moved. Four beats, four steps. The Master had turned his curse into a tool to command his armies and Nista couldn't help but smile at the cleverness of it.

Suddenly, the sky split open above them, rocking the ground hard enough that several people lost their footing. Then it happened again. Nista looked up and saw two gaping holes with sunlight pouring through where there had been stars before.

He stared up in amazement at the portals, looking straight through to another world. He could see crumbling buildings and blue sky, just like he was looking through a window. It took him a moment to realize that there was a sea of shadow pouring through them. The portals were so far away that it was difficult to see at first, but the shadows were growing and becoming more obvious, even against the night sky. And they were screaming.

Nista grabbed Hannes by the shoulder. "What the fuck is that!?"

"It's the Could Have Been King." For the first time, Hannes actually looked worried. "All we can do is pray that he didn't come for us."

"And if he did?"

Hannes suddenly wouldn't make eye contact. "Just hope that he didn't."