Unable to fall back asleep, Simon turned things over in his mind. His interaction with Antras had gone far better than he'd imagined it would have; had the Angel been able to stay, he would have dumped a plethora of questions onto him. There was still so much he wanted to understand about his situation, but for the time being, he had to be complacent with knowing that both Azraphael and the Prophet were still on his side. He considered this, turning the selenite pendant between his fingers, watching the light reflect off of the chinks in the crystal's delicate surface. Why should either of them bother at this point? He asked himself, unsure if he actually wanted the answer. He turned the crystal again, chuckling in spite of himself. I wouldn't bother. But then again, I'm no Angel, nor have I been tasked with assisting lost Souls. He stopped on that point, lowering the crystal, and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe I could try to…no, no. It's beyond me. Shaking his head, he directed his train of thought towards how in the Hell he was supposed to construct a functioning Time machine in Renaissance England. Granted, he was grateful to know how long he had to accomplish such a feat, but he was clueless as to where to begin, or how, for that matter.
He let out a long, low sigh, and shut his eyes. In his mind, he could retrace all the years he'd spent creating the Time Twister, and the Rift Generator, down to the last detail. But he'd come out of an era in which science and technology had advanced faster and more drastically than other Universes on the same course. This was, much to his chagrin, largely due to the Academy of Evil, and all of the geniuses that had passed through its doors, trials, and tribulations. He thought back again to the years he'd spent there, and suppressed a shudder. What horrors we'd known…and as mere children. Then, on a whim, he thought back to those eight blissful months that Azraphael had entered his life as an undercover operative. Before then, all he'd had were his friends, who, under the orders of Madame Amberley herself, he'd kept at an arm's length. After the Angel's arrival, however, he'd allowed them to get close to him. Oh, Azraphael…it's like you were guiding me from the beginning. Meeting you tore down my walls, and shoved me into creating real, lasting bonds with those I'd been swayed into forsaking for years.
He suppressed something between a sarcastic laugh, and a sob. But then I just did it again anyway. Did you waste your Time with me, like you did with the Academy? That place will never change. And at this rate, I don't know if I will, either. He stopped again, taking a moment to consider what his thoughts were leading to. Haven't I, though? Looking over to the spot where Antras had clasped Maria's hands earlier, his fingers tightened around the selenite. His mother, beautiful and kind, was destined to die too soon. She, who refused to shun him after knowing every terrible thing he'd ever done, who Loved and accepted him anyway, was to meet what would likely be a terrible, painful death. She was afraid; Simon could see it in her eyes, and hear it in her voice. And yet she wouldn't run – she wouldn't abandon him. Neither would his father, for that matter. For as intimidating as William appeared, the man was a gentle giant. He held a certain softness behind his eyes, a certain warmth in his smile and embrace. He knew when to be tough, and when to show tenderness. It was almost too much to bear, to know that he, too, was to meet a terrible, untimely demise. Then, completely unable to help himself, Simon smiled at the memories of his parents' lighthearted interactions with one another. They were happy together, and their happiness touched his heart in a way which was unfamiliar, but not at all unwelcome.
He considered Antras' words, commanding him not to waste what precious little Time he was allowed to share with his parents. These next several months are going to be, I hope, good for all three of us. Despite his desire to make the most of this opportunity, he still had to figure out how to survive long enough to get himself to the future, and to Madame Amberley's doorstep. Taking the first step in the right direction was absolutely crucial. He hadn't enough Time for trial, error, and mistakes; the countdown had begun, and he'd only get one shot to do it right. Lifting the selenite once more, he stared hard at it and strained his mind, trying to force an idea to come. If it were impossible, I'd never have made it to the Academy in the first place. In the outer reaches of his field of vision, he caught the dull glimmer of the Power Crystal fragments. That's it! He nearly sat up in his excitement, stopping himself at the last second. There was another problem; no matter what plans he may devise, he'd have to help with the construction of the machine, and to do that, he'd need the majority of his body to cooperate. Azraphael had indeed left him in a sorry state – I deserved it – and this time, there was no Healer to step in and speed up the process. He remembered, though, even in the haze of agony after being thoroughly beaten, Azraphael yelling at Uriel to "call Sahl'resh." This gave him a flicker of hope. His energy helps speed up the healing…I have to get back on my feet, pain be damned, and quickly!
With this in mind, he resolved to begin attempting to walk again in no less than a week. He'd have to be careful to avoid overexertion, or causing any further damage, but he was determined to jump on it as soon as possible. Setting this on the backburner of his thoughts, he returned his attention to the Power Crystal fragments on his father's workbench. He'd worked with them before, but only sparingly. Power Crystals were Uka Uka's area of expertise, if not also Nitrus' to a degree. They made him uneasy; Simon had always preferred to keep his distance, using more technological and less magical methods to conduct his experiments. Not much was known about the extent of their capabilities, but everything he'd seen them do thus far convinced him that it would be possible to use them to achieve Time travel. Deep in thought, he steepled his fingers, closed his eyes, breathed slowly, and began visualizing the steps he'd have to take. First, I'll have to gauge the collective power of the fragments. I'm afraid there won't be much, but should I be able to construct a lightning rod…yes, that should amplify whatever's already there into something useful. Those crystals have a unique vibrational frequency…I need to figure it out what that is…I'll need a tuning fork, for starters. Maybe one can be forged. I'll have to be extremely specific about the size, shape, and dimensions…if Father has the right equipment, perhaps it would be better to make it myself. Asking a stranger for a weird-looking metal object, a century before its actual invention, during an era that still fears and condemns witches to death…yes, it'll have to be me.
With his first steps planned, he opened his eyes, and was surprised to find William staring at him from across the room. Either the man moved as silently as a shadow, or Simon had been so lost in his thoughts, he never noticed him come in. "I found that ink and quill, son." He stepped towards him, extending both hands. Sure enough, he had a nearly-full bottle of ink, and a turkey feather with a clipped tip. Instead of handing them over to his son, he set them on the small bedside table, next to the bundle of paper he'd retrieved the previous night. He settled into a chair, clasping and unclasping his hands nervously. Simon straightened himself out; he knew the look on his father's face quite well, for it reflected his own when he felt afraid, or uncertain.
"What's troubling you?" Simon asked.
"I've made a terrible mistake." William's voice trembled, as did his hands. He clasped them once more, keeping them locked firmly together. Simon waited; if he and his father truly were alike, he knew the man wouldn't want to be prodded. When at last William spoke again, a sweat had broken out across his forehead. He mopped his bangs to the side, hands still shaking, then held them together once more. "Did you see those crystals over there?" He jerked his head over his shoulder, crudely pointing to his workbench. Simon nodded. An icy weight began to settle in the pit of his stomach; he didn't like where this was going.
"They've got some sort of arcane power. I've been experimenting with them, purely out of curiosity. Two of them burned me, another one gave me a terribly painful jolt, and the other two started humming and sent everything in the room flying about." Five crystal fragments? As far as Simon could tell from where he lay, there were only three or four present. The cold feeling in his gut grew worse, but he kept his mouth shut, silently prompting William to continue with another nod. "I took one of the humming ones and put it in a cage of copper rings – the most remarkable thing happened!" Despite his fear, his eyes lit up, and a telling smile stretched across his face. He had the look of a man who was genuinely pleased with his success. "The whole contraption started to hover, and depending on how I turned the rings about it, the humming would either grow louder or softer. The louder the hum, the faster the rings would spin…and the more any nearby objects would scatter."
Brilliant! The vibrational frequencies can easily be adjusted and controlled! Whether he realized it or not, he practically mirrored William's triumphant expression. His father caught this, and let out a small chortle. "What? You've been cooking up some ideas?"
"Yes, I'm starting to piece together how I'm going to get to the future." Simon let it rest at that for the moment. He was more concerned with what his father considered "a terrible mistake." Letting his scientific zeal fade, he turned the conversation back over to William. "Before we get into that, however, tell me what's wrong."
At that, William's face fell; the light in his eyes dimmed, and he appeared to have aged ten years in one moment. "I managed to set the thing in an inert state by making the hum barely audible. The rings still spun about it, but very slowly. It became less of an unpredictable, and potentially dangerous experiment, and more of a curious little trinket." He paused, mopping his sweaty bangs aside once more. "A few days before you were born, a trade caravan passed through the area. I was doing business with them, when a lad no older than four or five came out of one of the wagons. He barely spoke any English, but he was able to tell me his father was dying, and he asked if we had anything that might help." He paused again, beginning to shuffle his feet. Simon hated the suspense, but held back the urge to push him to speak. "Your mother and I don't keep much in the way of healing herbs, but I considered what my experiment may be capable of. So, I brought it to the boy, and he took me to his father."
A sharp pang of fear struck Simon's heart as he began to wonder what the crystal, in its modified state, may have done to the dying man. For all he knew, it could have made him explode. "I didn't know what I was doing," William continued, breaking Simon out of his thoughts. "I held the contraption over the man's body, and it started working on its own. It's like the crystal sensed that something was wrong with him. It hovered over him, gliding back and forth from his head to his feet. At intervals, the hum would grow louder or softer, and the rings would spin faster or slower. The crystal glowed brighter than I'd ever seen it before as it did its work, and I swear on my life, son…the man aged backwards before my very eyes. Color returned to his ashen face, the light came back into his clouded eyes, and his body went from emaciated to healthy and whole. He sat straight up as though nothing had ever been wrong with him, and embraced both his son and myself."
"That's incredible!" Simon breathed, glancing between his father and the crystal fragments. I never would have imagined they could turn back the clock on someone's body. If Power Crystals can reverse the effects of Time and ailments on a living being, then they must be able to manipulate Time in other ways. This is it; the proof I needed…they'll work. They have to! "What happened, then?"
"Once the crystal's work was done, the light went out, the rings locked into place with the stone still hovering between them, and the whole thing fell to the ground. I figured it had used all of its power, and was no longer useful." He ran his fingers through his hair, then clutched a fistful of it before letting his hand fall. "But just in case I was wrong, and just in case the man's affliction started up again…I gave the contraption to the boy." He hung his head, plunging both hands into his fiery mane. His voice became strained, then, as he bit back the terror welling up inside him. "I'm positive that somehow, either someone is going to discover the crystal after it regains its power – if it ever does – or someone in the caravan is going to tell the wrong person about what happened. When that happens…" He looked up, his ruddy cheeks streaked with tears, the whites of his eyes turned red. "It'll only be a matter of Time until we've got a mob breaking down our door, or torching the house!"
Not for the first time in his life, Simon witnessed genuine, unadulterated horror exuding from someone. In days past, he might have told said someone to grow a backbone, or he may have relished the fear, especially if he was the reason for it. However, seeing his father in such distress, and once again being reminded of his parents' inevitable demise, he didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to reach out and comfort the man, to deny the possibility of his being discovered, to tell him that he'd find a way to ensure his parents' survival, even though it would all be lies. Another part of him – the calculating and logical part – wanted to talk William out of being afraid, and get his mind set in the right direction. There was no doubt in his mind that the two would have to work closely together in order to close the loop. Still uncertain of how to handle the situation, he opened his arms, silently prompting his father to hug him. William managed a small, tight smile, and happily embraced him. Locked in each other's arms, Simon told him of Antras' visit, their deadline, and how badly he'd need his help.