Claire traveled to the Communications Tower of the Visitors' Center Palace to send a message to the Asterparan elders. Speaking into what looked like a pink plasma ball (after all these years, Claire had barely even scratched the surface when researching spells and general magic), she deliberately highlighted the importance of recent events, hoping she could convey a sense of urgency without sounding helpless or panicked. She was banking on a speedy response, but wasn't particularly keen to incite riots by overstating the imminent danger. Tone was especially important when dealing with these kinds of issues.

Claire sometimes wondered why a civilized society that predated her own hadn't thought to invent email. Magic wasn't the only technology available to Asterparans- Claire had seen them use devices similar to those found in her own world- but for some reason, magic tended to be the most common tool in Asterpara. Perhaps it was more convenient, being linked to the biology of most Asterparan creatures. The ability to accomplish one's goals using learned skills was much more effective than having to invent objects for the same purpose. Claire was reluctant to admit that Asterpara might be equal to or better than her homeland in this respect, but there were times when she couldn't argue against this notion in good faith. She had once accepted the idea that, in order to communicate over long distances, she would have to periodically replace her cellphone (more often than most people, since she historically made a point of being the first to own shiny, new gadgets), but then she realized that telepathy had the same basic function, and was preferable in every way. Sure, she had to refine her technique, but when given the choice between the two methods of communication, there was no competition.

Sometimes, Claire was dismayed by the comparative insignificance of her universe. She wasn't just beneath Asterpara: she had been created in world that was itself created by an Asterparan, which made her feel like . . . less of a person. It was an irrational sentiment, of course, since she was literally God, but sometimes she wondered just how much that meant in the grand scheme. Her power, though in theory limitless, was in practice quite fragile. She was a flawed dinosaur, and she made plenty of mistakes. On top of this, she was afraid of her own power, and what might happen if she used it for the wrong reasons. Cliché as it seemed, she was legitimately terrified that she'd become another Ellie, a Queen fallen from grace whose reign would end in infamy. No matter how formidable a monarch's power, there was always a chance that they'd find themselves at the guillotine.

And speaking of monarch-

No, she refused to entertain that thought.

Nevertheless, she had already let it seep into her consciousness, and she knew what she had been on the brink of acknowledging. Ellie was the Phoenix Queen. Claire was the Monarch Queen. It seemed appropriate: the two of them had been born anew, Ellie from an ash tree and Claire from a cocoon, but there was evidence that their reign would end in a similar manner as well. Katharos, that disgusting word that made Claire's scales crawl, was called the Blood Monarch, according to Elkay.

Blood Monarch.

Monarch Queen.

The pieces fit perfectly, as Elkay had so gracelessly reminded her. And there may not be any way to guarantee for certain that things would turn out the way she feared, but when considering the arguments that supported this theory . . .

Claire noticed a hot air balloon hovering a few miles away, perfectly framed by the gothic window that stenciled the tower's cold stone. Sarah was out and about, just as she had been when Elymas was released from the Beneath. Claire thought about her confident reply to Sarah's warning, and despised her past self for invoking such obvious hubris. The words she had uttered had not simply come back to bite her: they were tearing at her throat like rabid hounds, and she suspected this was only the beginning.

Claire was about to leave the chamber when the glowing sphere began to crackle. She allowed magic to flow from her front horn, and as she touched it to the globe, the image of a purple tiger replaced it. Claire beamed.

"Bast!"

"Hello, Claire. It's been a while. How are you holding up?"

She laughed cynically.

"I think my summon speaks for itself."

The feline smiled warmly.

"You're too hard on yourself, Claire. Nothing's happened yet. You're not going to turn on us overnight."

"Well, I sure hope not . . . Wait, how did you know I was worried about turning? I didn't say- Elkay blabbed, didn't she?"

Bast shrugged sheepishly.

"Well, you know how she is. She gets a bit gabby when there's gossip to share, regardless of who it affects. I heard about what my son did to Elkay FROM Elkay, and not in the sense that she was pondering his crime and how it affected her . . . No, it seemed like she just wanted someone to listen to her story."

"Has she been lying about that?"

"Unfortunately, no. I'd like to believe my son wasn't capable of- . . . Well, she's telling the truth about what happened, anyway, but she treated it with levity, perhaps as a coping mechanism. Still, it was devastating news, and her tone didn't exactly soften the blow . . ."

"She really doesn't know how to handle sensitive topics, does she?"

"No, she doesn't. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure she realized who I was, or even remembered that I was alive. She loses track of people quite easily, as you certainly know by now."

"Why did she come to you first? Was it just an unfortunate coincidence?"

The tigress laughed bitterly.

"Oh, she didn't come to ME first. Half of Asterpara knew by the time she got around to telling my family."

"So . . . how many people know about my role in the apocalyptic prophecy?"

The tiger offered nothing but an uncomfortable stare in reply. Claire sighed and fell forward on her belly.

"Great. This is just what I needed."

Bast shook her head.

"Don't worry about it, Claire. Hardly anyone takes Elkay seriously anymore. We're not alone in our experiences, us two. Heck, I'm not even the only parent who's had to hear about . . . you know . . ."

"When she told you, did she bring up the bum of the mind?"

"The what?"

"Nevermind . . . Bast, can I ask you something?"

"You know you can, since you just did."

"Right, well, I was wondering if you had any helpful information about this prophecy."

"Sorry. Can't help you there. But I can check a few libraries, for what it's worth."

"Sure. Can I ask you something else?"

"Always."

"Is the reason you were the first and only person to reply to my message that the others are afraid Elkay may be right?"

Bast snorted, then covered her nose to stifle her giggles.

"Claire, now you really ARE being paranoid. No, the elders are just busy with other matters. As you know, things kind of fell apart when the Marshall abandoned his army. And he's not the only one who disappeared, of course."

"No sign of your son?"

Her whiskers twitched.

"Well, I haven't managed to locate Fang, but at least my other boy stays put. It's difficult to misplace a rug. He really ties the room together, I hear."

Claire gulped.

"Bast, if you want us to relocate your son's . . . remains, we can-"

"No, don't bother. He's fine where he is. It's an honor knowing he'll be admired for generations to come, but I generally oppose Elkay's decisions as a matter of principle."

"I understand the impulse, believe me."

Her striped tail curled at the end, and her ears flattened with uncertainty as her eyes strayed from Claire's face.

"Claire, I wanted you to know that I appreciate what you've done."

"What I've done?" she echoed.

"Yes. How you've handled . . . Well, how you've been able to tolerate . . . Look, I had to put up with Elkay for a long stretch of time, and I barely survived. She's the reason my whiskers went gray. It seems she gets worse with each passing year, and I'm only getting a glimpse of her current . . . self . . . What I mean to say is, I feel badly about distancing myself from her, since the result is burdening you further."

The faintest of smiles crossed Claire's face.

"Bast, you may not be the kind of person who can handle Elkay- few are- but her presence isn't a drain on everyone. There are times when she's difficult, and I sometimes feel the way you do, but . . . not always. You shouldn't feel badly for rejecting her. Having a relationship didn't benefit either of you. In your experience, Elkay was a negative force made worse by rejection, but she just needed to find someone who truly and genuinely didn't mind having her around. I mean, at the worst of times, she IS pretty bad, but I'd be lying if I said I wanted her gone. I consider her my friend, though she seems to believe that this fact remains true for only a few seconds after I tell her this is the case. Her default assumption is that everyone hates her until they deny it, and as soon as they stop denying it, they've reverted back to hatred. I don't know why she believes this, but I don't think her reason is a happy one. I will nonetheless keep telling her that I'm her friend, not because I feel the need to do so, but because it's true. And I think she knows this, but won't allow herself to believe it for fear of being proven wrong, which would most likely damage her spirit further. That's my theory, anyway. The point is, we know how much we care about each other, but we refuse to acknowledge that this is the case, so we find ourselves surprised by moments in which we violate our unspoken agreement to leave it unaddressed. I don't know if it's right or wrong, but it IS, and that's proof that we're friends, convoluted as our way of expressing this truth may be."

The tigress shook her head, marveling at the absurdity of Claire's explanation. She seemed confused, but impressed all the same.

"Claire, you are a miracle."

"Well, at least one person was bound to be compatible with Elkay, statistically speaking, and although our friendship is flawed, it exists all the same. We're both flawed people, after all, so it makes sense that our friendship is the same way. Elkay is sometimes difficult and downright harmful, but that doesn't mean she's incapable of growth. I know this because I see myself in her, just a little. I've done some pretty terrible things in the past . . . and I may repeat those mistakes, if the prophecy turns out to be true."

Bast frowned with determination.

"Claire, I promise to help you through this. I'll tell everyone to drop what they're doing and pitch in, mark my words!"

Claire shrunk away shyly.

"Don't bother them if they're doing something more important."

"More important than helping their Queen? Impossible. Any force that threatens Asterpara's leader is our top priority."

"I'll have to hold you to your word the next time the Bull stirs up trouble," Claire chuckled.

Her smile disappeared when she noticed Bast's expression.

". . . What? . . ."

The tiger gulped, then scratched the back of her paw.

"Can I take this to mean you haven't heard the news?"

"What news?"

"Well, I don't want to trouble you, since you have so much on your plate already, but there's been a . . . development in that area."

Claire groaned.

"Oh, god, is he planning something?"

She shook her head.

"No, no! Quite the opposite. He will trouble you no longer, I guarantee."

"I get the feeling that the reason for this is gonna make me feel differently about the entire revelation."

"He was murdered."

"Yeah, there it is."