::Prologue::

There were a great many arguments against what John had just done, but there were many in favor of it as well. He looked down at the set of scratched and worn keys that rested in his palm, then ran his eyes over the lines of his new purchase.
A green, rusted, dented, scratched, beat-up old 1967 Mustang fastback sat at the curb in front of his parent's house. It smelled of old motor oil and musty clothes left too long in the back seat, and the trunk hatch sat slightly off kilter, no doubt the legacy of some past antics which the previous owner had engaged in. At best it was unreliable, at worst it didn't even run, but John's private fascination with speed had grown with the roar of the 289 cubic-inch V8 as he'd driven it home at unsafe speeds.
Now this is a car that a man can sink some money into, he thought to himself, and the minor consideration of where this money was to come from bothered him not one bit. He kicked the tire poetically and practically danced up over the curb and across the lawn on his way to garage to grab a socket set. The afternoon was young yet, and he had a few minor repairs to make before he took it to show off at one of the endless parties his friends had planned for the weekend.
At the garage door John stopped and turned around again. It was a wreck, but it was his wreck, and he made a mental check mark by the second item on his list of things to do before he got too old to do them. He admired the car for a few more seconds, then started whistling as he went to gather up the tools.

::Disclaimers & Such::


I must point out that all of the characters as they appear, with the exception of John, Cerin, and anyone else I happen to come up with, as well as the name El Hazard are the property of AIC International and Pioneer Inc. For goodness sakes, you know I'm just doing this for fun, right boys?

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events should greatly worry you, as they take place in an entirely different dimension. This work is the intellectual property of Precious R. Roy, a.k.a. Liam Roy, and any attempt to copy any part of this story will be detected, and the Stormtroopers will be sent to your door.

For the sake of editorial ease, as well as reader sanity, while writing this I simply assume that in the land of El Hazard every human speaks the same basic language. There may be regional dialects, slang, and so forth, but it's just much easier when all your characters can understand each other.

And in case you were wondering, yes, my new character John is from America. So far as I can tell, and please tell me if I'm wrong on this, he's the only American that anyone has attempted to introduce to the world of El Hazard. But, seeing as I'm one of them myself, I figured it best to stick with what I knew.

For referential purposes, this tale takes place about three years after the events in The Alternative World.

And now, the story!


:Book One:
::Chapter One::

Well, we made it. Are you ready?
Makoto looked at Qawoor, and while the uncertainty on her face was easy enough to read, her determination was even more evident. She turned to look over her shoulder at Dr. Stalubaugh and Londs, who stood at the hatch that they had used to enter the Eye. The airship floated behind them, moored by no less than four guidelines, which Londs insisted were merely for their own safety.
Now that the moment had arrived, however, all the doubts and fears that Makoto had not allowed himself to feel when he first came up with this plan rushed to the surface of his consciousness, and he felt the sweat building on his brow.
I'm ready, Makoto, Qawoor replied in an unsteady voice, and they turned to walk down the corridor into the heart of the Eye of God. It was difficult, if no longer impossible, for Qawoor to keep from clinging to Makoto as the light panels in the floor turned themselves on and off when he walked over them. While they had both spent some time studying the internal schematics of the Eye, it was still unsettling to actually be there.
As he walked his mind raced between near-frantic anticipation and the dim memory of other, equally promising attempts. If it worked, his plan had the potential to bring Ifurita back to him, and return his friends to their proper world. He could still recall the day, now only two months in the past, that he had rushed into Dr. Stalubaugh's laboratory, eyes blazing and heart pounding. He smiled to himself as his photographic memory replayed the event for him while he and Qawoor made their way into the bowels of the Eye.

****


Doctor, Doctor Stalubaugh! Please, I need your help!
The good doctor had been in his usual studying posture, seated at the table in the palace library. He had been writing onto a scroll, attempting to translate some very old runes found at an excavation site in the southern regions of the land of Caldan, when Makoto had burst in, and his sudden exclamation in the normally quiet library startled the doctor so badly that the ink from his quill had splattered the page, making a mess of his past hours' work.
screamed the doctor. And then, when he realized what had happened to the scroll, Oh, drat! Now I shall have to retrieve the original and copy it all over again. He fixed Makoto with a deadly stare. You had better learn to keep your voice down around here, young boy. You're not the only one here who is trying to uncover the great secrets of this library. So please, have care!
Makoto came to a stop in front of his desk, panting heavily, and said, I'm sorry, doctor, you're right. But I think I've finally figured out how we can activate the dimensional matrix in the Eye without triggering the automatic destruct overrides!
Dr. Stalubaugh's eyes lit up with the same interest as Makotos', and he leapt from behind the desk with an ease that would have surprised those who did not know him. Makoto's youthful enthusiasm for all things science had long since given the doctor a second lease on life, and he almost ran up to Makoto as he exclaimed, But that's wonderful! I knew someday you would find the clues to lead you to your lost Ifurita. Tell me, what have you discovered?
Well, I'm not 100% sure, not yet, but... Makoto allowed the teaser to hang in front of Dr. Stalubaugh, and while his posture was nonchalant, the excited glint in his eye gave him away totally.
Go on, go on! prodded the doctor.
You know about the legend of the Scales in the Southern Seas, right? asked Makoto.
Of course I do! I am Dr. Stalubaugh, highest advisor to her majesty Princess Rune! It is my holy duty to know all of the ancient legends.
Oh right, I forgot, Makoto said sarcastically under his breath. Sometimes the doctor's enthusiasm made him revert to old habits. he continued, there's a passage in the eighth book, a poem written by the scholar Enrilay, that tells of one of the ancient Great Priests of the Desert. Makoto paused at this, and Dr. Stalubaugh nodded for him to continue.
Of course, said the doctor as he motioned for Makoto to lead him to his quarters on the royal grounds. Among other things, the isolation provided by Makoto's hut tended to protect the rest of the palace from the frequently destructive side effects of his research, and was also the one place where he and the doctor could speak in absolute privacy.
Makoto continued, paying only slight attention to the footpaths. Well, this particular priest's name was Karali Wren, and according to legend he was wandering the southern cliffs on a spiritual quest when...
Master Makoto! came a sqeaky-high voice behind them, Oh, Dr. Stalubaugh, how are you?
Fine, fine Alielle, replied the doctor to the short, energetic girl who had just run up in front of him. And how are you today?
Oh, just great, doctor! she smiled at him, then turned her attention to Makoto. Master, the Lady Fatora wishes to speak with you at her earliest convenience. She said it in a perfectly respectful tone, but the look on Makoto's face was an old one. He had noticed that Alielle had said instead of which made Fatora's a formal royal command. Of course, as a special guest of the royal family Makoto was always free to decline any invitation, but he had experienced Fatora's legendary temper firsthand when she was crossed, and had no desire to repeat the experience.
Oh, is that right? Makoto said in a tone of resignation. He looked longingly in the direction of his hut, while Dr. Stalubaugh stood silent. he said after a pause, I guess I don't really have a choice. I'm sorry, doctor, I'll come and see you as soon as I'm done.
Dr. Stalubaugh nodded gravely. To defy the Princess Fatora carries serious penalty, if not officially then realistically. I shall study the ancient texts in the meantime and attempt to learn more about this Karali Wren whom you spoke of. Good day.
As he said that he turned away and walked back to the laboratory, his earlier energy quelled, and Alielle turned in the opposite direction and walked off pointedly, an obvious invitation for Makoto to follow. She didn't speak until they got there.

Fatora sat on the floor of her chambers and toyed with the tiny stuffed ear mouse gingerly, as though she expected it at any moment to come alive. The mouse had been a gift from her sister Rune Venus to her new protector/companion, Mahl, and it was designed to move around on it's own if it was set on a level surface.
Many things had changed for Fatora over these past years, and as she had slowly grown to realize that Shayla and Nanami would forever be out of reach, she had also come to realize a fundamental truth about herself, and she closed her eyes tight while the memory of it played through her again.
She had a soul.
That realization had come, as it does for many, at the worst possible time. As a formidable member of the royal house of Roshtaria, the greatest family of rulers ever to protect the lands of El Hazard, she had always more or less assumed that she had one. But searching it out was what monks and priestesses were for, and so she had let that rest and gone on with her life in the way she thought she always would.
It had been her birthday, she knew, that did it. At 20, Fatora was no longer the freewheeling teenager that her personality had fit so well. While her undying love for Alielle remained strong, she had of late been brooding over her future. Another sixty years at the right hand of her sister had never seemed so unappealing, and while the kingdom had celebrated her birth, that night Fatora had snuck out of the palace and trekked across the lands that her family had come to rule by long tradition.
Playing the part of a beggar, she had at first little success at living by her own wits. Occasional outbursts of royal pride had led the populations of the towns she visited to regard her as an eccentric, at best, and a nutcase at worst. No royal princess had journeyed beyond the walls of Floristica without their guard since the Royal Palace had been established, and the villagers had regarded her as they might have a child who claimed to have purchased x-ray glasses from the nice wizard at market.
She didn't know exactly what she was searching for when she started her journey, all she knew was that in order to continue to be herself, she had to figure out just exactly what that meant.
And all the while, Alielle had led a tireless town-by-town search for her beloved, resting little and always running ahead of the Guard attachment that would retrieve the wayward Fatora.
For fully three months they searched, before finding Fatora, much to everyone's complete lack of surprise, at the Holy Hot Springs of Arliman. The reunion between the two riven lovers was the stuff of legend, and everyone who witnessed it still claim that they have never seen a more pure display of raw passion and love.
But now that she was back, Fatora wondered constantly what would become of her now. She had always been independent, but never before had she known who she truly was with such clarity. Those three months had altered her outlook on not only her own life, but the lives of the common subjects she ruled, permanently. To the rest of the world, she was the same old Fatora, but around the palace she had grown quiet and withdrawn, which explained Makoto's current apprehension. Fatora rarely summoned someone to complement them.
My love? Alielle crooned softly to her, and Fatora opened her eyes again with a start.
Oh, Alielle, I didn't expect you back so soon, she lied. She stood up off the ground, pausing to put the toy mouse away for Mahl when he returned from his daily romp with Ura, and cleared her throat.
Makoto, I summoned you here for a very special reason, she said with every ounce of royal majesty she could muster. She looked straight into his eyes, noted his confusion and apprehension, and the next words she said were almost as great a shock to him as they were to herself.
I wanted to say, I'm sorry.
It took Makoto all of ten seconds to get his jaw back in position, and when he spoke it was with amazement. You're what?
I'm sorry, replied Fatora in the same serious tone, and stood in front of him, waiting for his response.
But, for what? asked Makoto, I mean, I had always figured that if there was anyone you should apologize to, it was Shayla and Nanami.
At this Fatora blushed slightly, but pressed on. Well, I guess you're right, but I thought I should try it out on you first. You know, to kind of get a feel for their reaction. Because you see, Makoto, you need to know how much you all mean to me.
Makoto nodded for her to go on, still in shock but no longer totally off balance.
When I was growing up as a young princess, I always felt like I was living in Rune's shadow, always in the back of the procession, always the last to be consulted. But then Alielle came into my life, and she showed me what it was like to be myself. She looked to Alielle, met her eyes, and saw her unequivocal approval of what she was doing.
And then, you earthlings showed up, and for the first time there were others in the palace that I could share my life with, albeit in a, well, different fashion than I'm sure any of you expected.
Makoto nodded again. Yeah, I can certainly say that I had never met anyone else quite like you before on my world. Although I did hear some rumors once about this kid in the baseball club...
snapped Fatora, we're talking about me here!
Makoto flushed slightly, Oh yeah, sorry.
Fatora fixed him with a deadly stare, and Makoto's embarrassment deepened as he sputtered out, Please continue, your royal highness.
Fatora made a hrumph sound and crossed her arms, and for a second Makoto feared that she would fly into one of her famous tantrums, but the explosion never came. Instead, she smiled at him, and continued as though the interruption had never happened.
Well, anyways, like I was saying, I was so thrilled that all of you were here that I wanted to, well, show off what I had become. I guess I went a little overboard in chasing around the girls. Makoto looked puzzled, but before he could speak she continued, Oh don't get me wrong. I don't plan to change that part anytime soon, but for now let's say I'm just considering my options. The grin on her face told Makoto that whatever else had happened to her, Fatora was still fundamentally the same fiendish plotter that he had come to know and fear.
But I know that the way I went about it was wrong, and if anything I've done has caused you problems, well, that's what I'm sorry for. She had obviously finished with her speech, and Makoto closed his eyes to consider his next words carefully.
he began, I've gotta say that I never expected anything like this from you.
Fatora flashed him a look as cold as space, and Makoto hurried to finish his sentence before she could turn that look into a tirade.
But it's just so incredibly kind and generous of you to say so, and I guess, I should say, apology accepted, he finished hurriedly, and stood up straight and looked at her.
She smiled at him again, and while it no longer seemed totally awkward, it still had a long way to go to look natural.
Thank you, she said simply, and looked at Alielle again. Then Alielle turned to Makoto and said, thanks so much for coming, Master. You can go back to your lab now, and smiled pleasantly.
Makoto bowed slightly to them both, and turned to walk out of Fatora's chambers, when Fatora spoke up again suddenly.
Oh, and Makoto, she said, you do know that they're in love with you. They have been for some time. Shayla and Nanami. And Qawoor.
He stopped dead in his tracks, and looked down at his feet. He sighed, as though some strange weight had suddenly been placed upon his shoulders, a weight he knew quite well.
Yeah, I guess I have known all along. It's just that every time I think I've worked out how I want to tell them, tell them just how much Ifurita means to me, I get all confused and mess it up.
Fatora's smile was more wistful this time, with a hint of sadness at it's edges. Well, all I can tell you is that they deserve to know. They deserve to know that you really do love someone else.
Alielle chimed in, I know you can do it, Master. You just need to meet with each one of them, away from the others and on their own terms. You can show them that you still care about their feelings.
Makoto looked back at them. I know it sounds easy, but I've never had to break one girl's heart, much less three. But thank you anyway.
He walked out of the room in silence.

****


Funny how the mind wanders, Makoto thought uneasily to himself. The day of that discovery had been important in more ways than one. Has it really been only two months?
Makoto's thoughts were interrupted when he and Qawoor reached the central control room. It wasn't quite as large as the basement where they'd first found the Trigger of Destruction, but it was far more complex.
In the center was the obvious control matrix, a mirror-smooth pillar of steel, with rune-like messages blinking across it, as though they were reflected from the inside onto it's surface. The pillar was surrounded by a ring three feet off the ground, with two touch activated interface pads on opposite sides.
All around the edge of the room were banks of monitors, switches, dials, and various other readouts, and it was easily a hundred feet from the entrance just to the center pillar, and at least 30 feet to the apex of the domed ceiling.
Are you sure you know what to do? Qawoor asked. It wasn't the first time she had asked him this, but he had always assured her that he and Dr. Stalubaugh had worked it out to perfection. Now that they were actually here, however, Makoto's uneasiness showed.
He spoke sternly to the butterflies mating in his belly, then he nodded to himself and walked towards the pillar. Qawoor followed reluctanly a few steps behind.

I don't know, Afura. You sure this is really my color? Shayla turned around in front of the mirror with the fire orange and red dress held up to her breast. I don't think it fits my personality.
Afura sighed patiently, and tried not to sound like a schoolteacher addressing a particularly dull student. Oh, what are you talking about? Every other outfit that you own is in the same set of colors. There's nothing else on this rack that's more you.
Shayla spun around and balled her fists up. Aw, shut it! I do too own clothes that aren't red. What about that outfit I wore when we blasted the Trigger of Destruction?
And what, if you recall, happened to it? replied Afura.
Shayla's cheeks heated, and she turned back around to face the mirror as she clung the dress to her tighter. I burned it, accidentally, she said in a tiny voice.
And the dress you wore to Miz's wedding?
I burned that one, too.
You see? chided Afura, I don't think anything else will survive in your closet.
Afura herself wore a casual sage green gown, in place of her usual jumpsuit and cape, following their last shopping trip. An unfortunately honest tailor had accidentally remarked that one of the legs on her suit was missing, and while it wasn't the first time that Afura had been furious, it was the first time she had been so embarrassed in public. Following a complete dissertation on the value of individuality and the ways in which the Great Priestesses of Muldoon were not bound to follow normal social trends, Afura had completely replaced her wardrobe.
The warm-weather dress she wore now had been designed especially for her; there were special panels that ran the length of the dress that would become as hard as wood when she pressed her hands to them, so that her frequent arial acrobatics would not reveal anything accidentally.
Whether it's conscious or not, she continued, it's been well established that any elemental priestess will eventually begin to take on behavioral aspects of her element. It's nothing to be ashamed of, Shayla.
Yeah, I know, she replied, I just wish that for once, I could walk around like everyone else and not get stared at like some freak side show. She turned back to the rack and replaced the dress she had held, and picked out a white and purple outfit and began to try it on.
When Shayla had realized that even after four years of trying (and failing), Makoto wasn't going to give up looking for Ifurita, she began to rethink her career choice. While it was true that there had never been a Priestess of Fire who was quite as powerful as she, it seemed like a small achievement when compared to Miz's happiness. And now that their child was already three years old, and Mr. Fujisawa had accepted a professorship at the Royal Roshtarian History Academy, their lives seemed so complete. To Shayla, who had always been independent and lived by her own rules, it was hard to imagine tying her life to someone else's that way.
She couldn't deny that given the chance, she would have gladly done the same with Makoto if it brought her even a fraction of the contentment that Miz radiated. But for all her attempts, the clumsy propositions and half-whispered compliments, Makoto had seemingly remained oblivious to her affection. How anyone could miss it, Shayla would never understand. But they had remained friends, never getting very close, and for the four years since she had met him Shayla had never once been able to say I love you.
Well, we don't exactly have all day, so do try to find something that you think you'll be able to hold on to, this time.
Afura's comment snapped Shayla out of her reverie, and she put back the dress and turned to leave.
All right, she said, there's still a shop or two here that I want to check out first.

It was 2:30 a.m. and raining when John finally stepped off of the front porch. The party hadn't been a complete success, since they only had one tap for the beer, but he hadn't had a single drop that night. He wasn't about to risk his car at the hands of anyone who'd been drinking, not even himself.
He looked up into the sky, and let the rain splash on his face for a few minutes before he walked down the flagstone path to the street. The night had given him the perfect chance to show off his new purchase. The Mustang sat underneath a light across the street, shiny and somewhat forlorn looking in the drizzle, which was slowly working it's way into the downpour which was standard issue for a warm summer night in Pittsburgh. It looked great from a distance, but friend after friend had begun to snigger once they got close enough to see all the bits that were missing, like the hubcaps and the emblem on the driver's side.
He walked up to the door and unlocked it, as he hummed the first few bars of Born to be Wild to himself over and over, and he thought of how good it would feel to sleep in tomorrow morning.

They each went to one of the access pads, and as Makoto touched his hand to them they glowed an eerie green . Qawoor activated hers in the same way.
Makoto spoke with as much reassurance he could muster, Okay, now you remember how I told you this works? In order to gain control of the dimensional gateway system, we both have to request access at the same time.
Even though they couldn't see each other around the pillar, Qawoor nodded assent, and they both closed their eyes to concentrate.
The text on the pillar began to change color, from green to yellow to red, and the messages flashed across it's surface with mounting speed. A surge of electricity cascaded over Makoto and Qawoor's hands, their eyes opened wide with the shock, and then they were inside the system.
With Ifurita, the disabling of her submission routines had been relatively straightforward. All Makoto had had to do was find a single circuit, and cut it out of the command loop. But this time, he wasn't here to destroy, he was here to control, and the strain this placed on him was far greater.
In essence, he was the one doing the real work of discovering the root command structure, accessing it, and using it to manipulate the dimensional reactor of the Eye of God. Qawoor was necessary to verify his access, for the ancients who had designed the Eye had determined that only a member of the Royal house could control it, and only a holy priestess could grant access to it. But nobody else knew that they were here this day; only Londs and Dr. Stalubaugh had come to ensure their privacy. If anyone outside the royal family were to learn that the Princesses were not the only ones who could gain access to the Eye, it might inspire another nation to attempt what the Phantom Tribe had in the past.
It remained true that only the sisters Rune Venus and Fatora could use the Eye as a weapon, but the use of it's other systems, as Makoto had discovered, was not so restricted.
The strain of trying to control the Eye was making the veins of his neck stand out, and he grunted with the effort, riding the data streams much the way a kayaker might ride Niagara Falls. The sheer amount of information flowing through the system almost sucked him under and into unconsciousness, but then he found what he was looking for; the control pathways for the dimensional reactor.
He crossed the threshold from raw data to interface, and was confronted with a totally different problem.
He couldn't make heads or tails of it.
The connections between all of the systems of the Eye might have been difficult to navigate, but the actual controls were almost worse. Everywhere he looked were graphs, visual representations of mathematics so advanced that the tiniest mistake in their manipulation could destroy entire dimensions. He saw terrible futures loom before him; the probable results of his actions branched out in so many different ways that it soon turned from a latticework into a solid wall of different probabilities.
There were places where he could manipulate the equations, adjust the power levels, monitor the results, but the limited knowledge he and Dr. Stalubaugh had been working from had never anticipated such complexity.
And then the command he was looking for was in front of him; a simplified root directory that listed all the possible inputs. It took him only a few minutes to find the ones that he and the doctor had isolated, and a few more to manipulate the reactor itself to bring those commands about. He input the changes that had been so carefully worked out before hand, that he had drilled himself on so that there would be no mistake.
There! The reactor came online, obediently noted the changes to it's operational parameters that Makoto had input, and then everything else went dark as the massive amounts of power that the reactor required were shunted from all the secondary systems.
As the information displays in his interface began to dim, Makoto allowed himself a brief flash of hope. All the work, the waiting, the terrible disappointment when his previous attempts had failed, it would all be worth it once that portal opened up and he stepped through it onto the soil of his homeworld.

Take it on the otherside, take it on the otherside...
John sang to himself as he threaded the streets of Pittsburgh through the driving rain. It was getting harder to see the road, but he'd been on this route countless times before, and he could have driven it with a sheet over his windshield. The dark, brooding clouds and almost ceaseless thunder might have been depressing to some, but for John it was all coming together.
In a few short weeks he would graduate from high school, and then there would be just three months in which to make as much money as he could. Then it was off to college in California, and nothing but sunny skies and easy living from there on out.
John turned up the radio a bit and started to bob and weave in his seat in time to the music. The song was getting to that good bit.

Almost immediately Qawoor could sense that something was wrong. All this time she had been following Makoto through the bowels of the Eye of God's data system, ensuring that his presence did not trigger any security mechanisms. And while she could see what he was doing, could see the tremendous amount of information he was sifting though by instinct as much as anything else, she could not directly interfere, not even to communicate with him.
Which is why it took Makoto completely by surprise.
Before he even knew it was happening, the complex waveforms and meticulate multi-dimensional equations that had set themselves up in response to his commands began to collapse. It was too late to stop the dimensional reactor from completing it's activation cycle, and with a brilliant flash all of the new data erased itself from being.
Makoto stared in blank-faced horror. Not two seconds ago the triumph he hadn't dare allow himself to feel had been about to surface, but that flash killed all of his dreams in an instant.
A few displays remained alive, and from what his numbed mind could make out there were a few parameters that were still correct; he had still managed to find earth, had still managed to contain the gateway so that it would take only a few people and not a civilization. But the rest of the data, the exact location, the exact time of the portal's creation and the strength of the energy flux roaring through it were hopelessly scrambled. Warning signals flashed in front of him, telling him what to correct, but the language of the ancients was still foreign to him, and without the help of the doctor and the Royal Academy's library, Makoto was powerless to translate them quickly enough.

Hm. Now that one actually doesn't look too bad.
Afura and Shayla had nearly exhausted the shops along the main trading district in Floristica, before Shayla had spotted the outfit hanging on display in front of one of the more expensive trader's tents.
You think? Shayla asked, then turned again to admire it, yeah, this dress'll be just the thing I need to impress Makoto at Mr. Fujisawa's ceremony.
Afura sighed again in resignation. Just be careful wherever you're wearing it. Caldan rice-silk is known to be highly flammable.
At least I picked the right colors, Shayla said in her most sarcastic tone. She turned to the merchant, who had been eyeing her carefully since she'd approached his tent, and handed him a small sack and smiled. That should cover it, my good man.
The merchant accepted it cautiously, counted the coins for himself, and nodded a thanks to the two priestesses. A small group of young girls that had been following them moved in on the tent as Shayla and Afura walked back towards the center of town. They wanted to see if there were any more priestess dresses for sale.

John was fully aware that he was now driving at very unsafe speeds in this weather. The tortured route to his house through the hills had leveled out a bit, but just as he took the Mustang to full throttle a strange, globular light appeared in front of him as suddenly as if a light bulb had been turned on.
He knew he couldn't stop in time; there was too little warning and too little space for him to break the car effectively. So John swerved to the side instinctively to avoid it, but the wet roads robbed his tires of traction. He slid towards the light, now totally out of control, and the only thing he could do before he hit it was throw his hands up in front of him, and scream.

Shayla and Afura waited patiently for the huge wagon to cross in front of them, and for a split second the roads were clear. Traffic was light in the capital city today, thanks to the slackening tourist season and busy preparations going on in the Royal grounds for the ceremony to accept Mr. Fujisawa as a High Professor at the Royal Roshtarian Academy.
As they stepped ahead a strange globe of light appeared in the middle of the clearing, and they had no chance at all to react before a huge, green something came sliding out of it at terrifying speed and smashed into a pottery cart.