Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
first released 11th November 2022
Douxie let the broom coast to a slow loop around the cul-de-sac, past the Domzalski house, finally drawing to a stop before the Lakes'. It was a bit later than he'd intended to come home; the street lamps were just beginning to flicker on, and the streets themselves were quiet, most of Arcadia's citizens returned home from their jobs in the nearby greater Los Angeles basin.
Strickler's car, he noted, was once again in the driveway.
Through the living room window, he could see Barbara setting the table in the dining room beyond. And farther in, he could just glimpse Strickler tossing a salad while Jim bustled about in the kitchen.
It caught at something in his throat and behind his eyes, the simple domesticity of the scene.
Archie leapt up onto his shoulder, looking to see what Douxie did.
"Do you think," Douxie found himself asking, "that in some other world, some world where magic doesn't exist, they'd still find their way to make a family like this?"
"Likely," his familiar replied. "A high school student introducing his bachelor history teacher to his doctor mother... it's a simple enough story. Simpler, perhaps, with changelings and trolls taken out of the formula."
"Yeah." Douxie kept watching. That something in his throat and behind his eyes began to hurt. Barbara said something; Strickler laughed. Jim looked scandalized.
"I do hope you're not planning on staying out here like a little match girl," Archie remarked tartly. "You're not an outsider now, you know. You're a brother and a son, and that comes with certain responsibilities."
"Including not neglecting my familiar," Douxie said, reaching up to stroke Archie's soft fur as the pain abated, though it did not entirely vanish.
"Indeed. I'm hungry, and Jim's prepared dinner." Archie leapt off his shoulder and strode up to the front door.
Douxie breathed a laugh and waved a hand, his vambrace lighting up momentarily as the front door unlocked and opened for the black cat. He himself turned, though, and looked across the street, at the lit windows of the Domzalski house, where a similar dinnertime scene was almost certainly playing out. At all the houses around them, and others, farther out and further out of view.
This, he knew in his core. This is what we're fighting to preserve.
He slung his broom head over his shoulder and went up the steps, closing the door behind himself.
Outside, in the bushes, something rustled unnoticed.
A pair of glowing yellow eyes narrowed in the dusk, before their owner skittered away.
"We're home," was called from the front door, followed by the sound of said door closing.
"Perfect timing," Jim's mom called from the dining room as Douxie rounded the corner and hung his backpack up in the coat closet, followed by the broom.
Strickler's eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you've been riding that around Arcadia Oaks."
Jim snorted. "He's been riding a broomstick around Arcadia for a couple weeks now."
"And, may I say, modern brooms have terrible aerodynamics," Douxie said cheerfully, coming into the kitchen. "But I haven't got time to build a proper one, so it'll have to do until I do find the time."
"How cliché," Strickler said dryly, carrying the salad to the table.
"If we're going to rub everyone's nose in the fact that magic is real, there's no better place to start than the cliché," Douxie rejoined. "Wine for the adults, I assume?"
"Yes," Jim's mom said as Douxie pulled glasses out of the cabinet.
"And for you, Arch?"
"I'll stick with water," said the dragon, already sitting at the table.
"Jim?"
"Milk," Jim said. He side-eyed Douxie. "And if you get yourself orange juice to go with pasta..."
"Yes, yes, you know where I sleep." Douxie smirked at him. "Are you this bossy with everyone about what they drink with your culinary concoctions?"
Their mom laughed. "He's got Toby and me well trained."
"Should I be worried?" Strickler asked her.
"Absolutely," she replied.
Jim dished, Douxie served (all those years-or-maybe-centuries of waiter experience making him an expert), and within a few minutes they were all seated around the table.
"Oh, this is so good," Jim's mom said, across the table from him, digging into meaty-cheesy-tomatoey pasta goodness.
Jim smiled. Then paused, caught by a thought. He and his mom were seated across from each other, heads of the table, with Douxie and Archie on one side and Strickler on the other.
But Douxie was the older son; shouldn't he be head of the household? But Jim had been here longer. What about if (when, hopefully) Strickler popped the question? Would they change seats then?
Or because Jim was a king, would he still be at the head of the table...?
Douxie looked at him. "I can hear you thinking," the wizard said.
Jim glared. "You can not."
Douxie shrugged. "Metaphorically," he amended. "I'll admit telepathy's never been in my skill set."
"Fortunately," added Archie.
"Fortunately?" asked Jim.
"Well, just think about it," Douxie advised. "Would you really want to read people's minds? Would you want to read /Steve's/ mind?"
Jim blinked. "No," he said, not even needing to think about it.
"Exactly." The wizard nodded sagely.
"I do have to admit, Mister Palchuk's mind would not be the first I would choose to read, either," Strickler remarked. "That said, Young Atlas, may I ask what is on your mind?"
"Round tables are easier," Jim said automatically. "That way you don't have to worry who's sitting at the head and foot."
Douxie choked on his pasta. Jim reached over and whacked him on the back. "Camelot," Douxie wheezed, laughing.
"No man's head higher than another's," mused Strickler, eyebrow arched. "An interesting pipe dream."
"Douxie, shut up," Jim said as his brother continued to laugh.
"Arthur's heir," Douxie teased.
"Merlin's successor," Jim shot back.
The laughter cut off.
"Anyway," Jim's mom broke in, taking over the conversation, "I'm not sure a round table would work in this room, so let's stick with this one, okay? Douxie," she said, turning her attention to him. "How did band practice go today?"
Douxie clearly took a deep breath and refocused, centering himself. "Okay...?" he guessed aloud. His fork drew random patterns on his plate. "Zoe and I told Marti and Gil we're wizards."
Silence reigned for a second.
"How did that go...?" Strickler eventually asked.
Douxie's face was a grimace. "As well as can be expected, I guess. At least the band's not broken up. Yet."
"Marti didn't care," Archie reported. "Gil... has questions."
"Yeah, he's going to need some time to wrap his head around things. Not least of which is Zoe and me being like nine hundred years older than he thought," Douxie agreed, nodding.
"How old is Zoe?" Jim asked, suddenly curious.
"Why, Jim, don't you know you never ask a lady her age?" Douxie grinned at him. "She's actually four years older than I am."
Strickler raised an eyebrow. "The both of you came into immortality early."
Douxie shrugged. "It's what happens when you have good teachers," he said, returning his attention to his pasta.
But Archie, Jim noticed, didn't look like he agreed with that statement.
"Anyhow, we warned the both of them to keep out of the town square next Saturday," Douxie continued. "Hopefully they'll listen."
"What, afraid they'll cut in on your patented 'let me hit it with a guitar' attack shtick?" Jim couldn't help needling.
"One," Douxie held up a finger, "that works better when you've worked a durability spell onto your instrument. And, two, I really don't want to have to worry about ADP breaking up because a Gumm-Gumm ate my bandmate. Music's supposed to be stress relief, not a source of horrible guilt."
"Zadra was calling us?" Aja demanded.
"Apparently, yes. And she knows the identity of the 'traitor'."
As one, both Tarrons' eyes slid to Varvatos.
"Varvatos... remains most ashamed of his foolish belief in Morando's promises," their guardian said, his shoulders hunching in on themselves.
"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" Lucy trilled, setting a heaping platter of pot roast on the table.
"Varvatos does not lie!" the behemoth bellowed.
"Varvatos," Aja soothed, taking a seat, "I think she is referring to Morando."
"You betcha, honeycakes!" the robot cheered, wandering back to the kitchen area.
"How do we eat this?" Aja wondered, poking at the slab of meat with a cautious fork.
Krel rolled his eyes. "You were not present to experience Jim Lake's patented 'team dinners'," he informed his sister. "Allow me." Krel drew his serrator, configured it into a blade, and swiftly sliced the roast into several neat layers.
"That's some nice cutting there, chief!" Ricky popped up by Krel's side, carrying plates. In short order, he had the meat and vegetables plated and set before the three of them.
Varvatos poked at the meal with his own fork. "The food on this planet is most primitive," he complained. With a flash of blue light, his transduction activated. "But satisfying," he admitted, shoving a bite of potato into his mouth.
"One must follow the local customs," Aja said primly, following suit.
Krel snorted and applied himself to his plate. "So. I am working on building a more secure means of communication. Other than obviously warning Zadra about the construction of the Omens, what else should we be doing with it?"
"Ugh. So much," Aja moaned. "We must coordinate the actions of the resistance, ensure the security of their safehouses and the safety of their families, find out the extent of their resources- what?" she asked crossly.
"Oh, nothing," Krel replied, a small smile hovering around his mouth.
"The queen-in-waiting sounds like a true queen," Varvatos told her approvingly.
Aja blushed cyan. "It is nothing-"
Krel's hand covered his sister's. "It is not nothing," he told her. "Mama and Papa will be proud of you, when they wake."
"They will be proud of us, you mean."
Krel's smile shifted, now holding something of sadness. "If you say so," he said. "Oh! Wasn't your bonfire thing this week?"
Aja stirred her carrots and celery. "I think you are right, it was. But the Palchuk has not invited me yet. Maybe it is not happening."
"Well, he did not invite you until the day of, last time," Krel pointed out. "And that's not until Monday, right?"
"True." Aja took another bite. "And this time I will not lose my serrator," she muttered to herself.
"What was that?" Varvatos asked.
"Nothing!" she said brightly. "Nothing at all. Is your hearing maybe 'going'?" she asked. "I have heard that happens to Earth geezers sometimes."
"And where would Varvatos' hearing be going?" he demanded.
"I am just hoping the Zerons do not show up again," Krel said.
"Hmph." Varvatos leaned back in his chair. "With the aid of our allies, we have disposed of Zeron Alpha permanently," he said with a great deal of satisfaction. "And Princess Aja has grievously wounded Zeron Omega. Varvatos finds it unlikely they will have been able to regroup so soon."
"Even healing with regeneration chambers will take some time," Krel said, nodding. "And Zeron Beta is not known to be the brightest serrator in the lot."
"Which does not make him less dangerous," Aja pointed out. "We must remain on guard."
"Fine, fine." Krel waved at his sister. "I hope you will have fun on your date."
"Who knows," said Aja. "Maybe I will ask him, this time."
Sunday
The Hero's Forge was a cacophony of sound, making Eli wince and wish he had earplugs.
"All right, that should do it," Douxie said, handing the potato cannon back to Eli. "Interior enchanted with nonstick spells."
"Awesome." Eli accepted the weapon reverently. Sure, it wasn't a sword like Steve had, or even a warhammer, but it was something he'd built with his own hands, and it was going to be useful! He'd get to do his part while keeping well out of the fray. Which, honestly, he was pretty sure he didn't want to be in the middle of the fray. Jim and Claire and Toby and all the others had outlined very clearly what they were going to be up against. And faced with the possibility of having a dozen or more Aaarrrgghh-sized evil trolls charging at him, wanting to kill and eat him? Eli wasn't ashamed to admit he was a coward if it meant he was going to be a live coward.
"And here, young padawan, is some test ammo for you." Douxie dug in his hoodie pockets and pulled out a dozen flat discs. They weren't the gold coins that Eli had seen on his special "do not touch" shelf, but they were approximately the same size and thickness.
He accepted them with both hands, peering closely. Each of the blank coins had a very slight blue shimmer to it. "Thanks."
"No problem." Douxie nodded at the coins. "I've enspelled them to be the same approximate weight, and to have the same sticking spell on them that your actual ammo will have, the day of the battle."
"So, what do I do with them?"
Douxie grinned and gestured at the Forge below them, with various battles playing out among the combatants training against one another. "Pick your targets and try to hit them. Let me know when you've exhausted your ammo, and I'll go unstick them for you."
Slowly, Eli began to grin. Douxie patted his shoulder and stood, heading down the stairs to rejoin the others. Sitting in the observer's seats that ringed the Hero's Forge, Eli loaded his first blank into his potato cannon, lifted it to his shoulder, and adjusted the scope.
He picked his target, and fired.
Back down on the floor, Douxie headed toward his own personal group of students. (Total number, currently: two. And the thought of being a teacher remained, frankly, weird. But Mary was his friend too and needed a wider perspective than just Zoe's, else she risked becoming like the insular meatheads who majorly staffed HexTech.)
"All right!" he said, clapping his hands. "Eli's set and sorted for the next little while, so. What shall we work on?"
"She!" Mary stabbed a finger in Claire's direction. "Can make things float! And I can't. This is highly unfair."
Ignoring the slight tone of whine in Mary's voice, Douxie blinked. "Zoe hasn't had you work on that yet?"
"Being fair, Teach, you didn't have me work on it until I told you I was bored." Claire cocked an eyebrow at him.
Douxie held up a finger, then paused. "That's a fair point," he admitted. "All right. Levitation, then. Claire, do you want to give a go at teaching Mary how to do it?"
"Me?" She was clearly surprised.
He shrugged. "As I'm being reminded, at some point students have to become teachers. And I'll be right here with a more experienced voice in case any bad habits start to slip in."
Claire rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying anything about you and bad habits."
Douxie gasped in mock offense.
"All right." Claire turned back to Mary. "The first thing is, you can feel the magic at your core, right?"
"Uh-huh." Mary's eyes narrowed in concentration. "Dark blue ball of energy."
"Okay. So, imagine it reaching out. Growing an arm."
"Eww." Mary's nose wrinkled up. "One tentacle. Okay."
"Or a tentacle, I guess," Claire allowed. "Now, the tentacle grabs whatever you want to lift. Gently!" she squeaked as the pebbles at their feet got knocked back and forth by something invisible.
"If I may." Douxie stepped forward. "Let's start with a concrete goal." He took Mary's phone from her hand and set it on the ground. "Try lifting that."
"Right. Lift the phone." Mary stared at it for a second, then blinked several times in rapid order, shook her head, and looked away instead, at the far wall.
Douxie raised an eyebrow. Trouble with reconciling physical vision and her ESP? he wondered.
But then, while Mary was determinedly not looking at it, her phone raised smoothly into the air, rotating slowly.
"Nice," Claire said, grinning.
The phone turned on, flickering through apps rapid-fire until the camera opened, the screen displaying video while the phone lazily spun.
"Oh yeah. That's more like it!" Mary said, her white teeth breaking into a broad grin. Her levitation slipped as soon as she looked at the phone; she hastily glanced away, blinking rapidly, and telekinetically caught it before it hit the ground.
"Ooh, nice," Toby said appreciatively, wandering over. His Eclipse warhammer disappeared from his hand as he watched. His mouth pursed and his brow wrinkled thoughtfully. "Hey, Mary, do you think you could get video that way?"
She scoffed. "Like, duh, braceface."
Toby ignored the slight to his former dental appliances. "Because I was thinking, we're not really gonna be able to get any footage from the battle, which is a prime waste of opportunity..."
She cocked an eyebrow, finally looking at him. "You think I should be camera girl for your little movie?"
"Well, I was thinking more camera woman," Toby allowed. "But yeah. I mean, I don't think you're gonna be participating in the fight itself, amirite?"
"No," Douxie and Claire said as one.
Claire glanced at Douxie, then at Mary. "Don't take this the wrong way, Mary, but you're not ready for something like this."
"I don't want to be ready for something like this," Mary retorted. She snorted; her phone moved over and dropped into her waiting hand. "So, sure. Give me some cameras and a safe place to hole up, and I'll record your battle for posterity. But I want screen credit!" she warned.
"Duh." Toby echoed her. "You work on my crew, you get credited."
"Okay." Jim stood looking at the various people trying to hit one another with various weapons. "Darci is out."
"Agreed," said Draal. "She has good form, but insufficient stamina."
"I was more thinking that she's just not ready yet, but you're the trainer." Jim grinned at him.
Above and behind them, there was the fwoomph sound of Eli's cannon launching another shot. Followed a second later by Steve's wail of "Not again!"
"Sorry, Steve!" Eli called.
"Aaand that's three for Eli, none for Steve," Jim counted.
"He will be a fine warrior someday," Draal said gravely. "For now, however..."
"Yeah. Jim grimaced. "For now."
"He must learn to focus on multiple fronts, not merely what is before him."
"Took me a while to learn that one," Jim confessed.
"I somehow suspect it will take Steven longer," Draal said dryly.
Jim shrugged. "Eh, maybe. I wouldn't underestimate him. But. No Steve and no Darci on the field."
"WHAT?!" Steve demanded from halfway across the Forge, apparently having overheard their conversation.
"Aja will be a fine addition to the team on the ground," Draal offered.
Jim glanced upward, where Aja was dancing and flipping easily around several arms of the central pillar, even as Steve stalked over to him and Draal. "Agreed."
"What do you mean I can't go out on the field?" Steve demanded, doing his best to use his several inches of height to loom over Jim. To make him change his mind.
But Jim was a warrior and a king, and Steve couldn't bully him anymore. Couldn't make him shift his feet. "Just what I said," Jim said softly. "You're not ready yet, Steve. You'd only get killed."
"I. Would. Not!"
"A match, then," Draal offered. "Best me, in any of three spars, and you may take your place on the field of battle this Saturday."
Steve glared impotently at Jim for a minute longer, then turned to Draal. "Fine. You're on," he said tersely, and turned to stalk away. Revealing the three glowing blue coins still stuck to the back of his shirt.
Draal smirked. "If you will excuse me," he said to Jim, and walked after Steve.
"Whoo," said Toby, coming up beside Jim. "Glad you're the one having to make him back down, not me."
Jim snorted with amusement. "You'd do fine," he reassured his bestie. "Want to spar?"
"Oh, you're on, Jimbo!" Toby materialized Eclipse even as Jim did the same with Excalibur. "Best of three?"
"You're on."
"All right. And that should do it!" Krel finished his adjustments and held up the improved communicator.
"Do you believe Lieutenant Zadra will be attempting to communicate with you?" Mother's icon hovered nearby, monitoring Krel's proceedings.
Krel shrugged. "Only one way to find out," he said, and turned the communicator on. It was preset to the highly encoded frequency Zadra had used before. With any luck (and given her stubbornness of character, it was extremely likely), Zadra would be sticking to the same frequency.
"Hello?" he offered.
"Prince Krel!" Zadra's response came almost immediately.
Krel's grin widened fit to split his face. "It worked!" he told Mother. "Zadra! It is so good to hear from you!"
"Prince Krel," she almost interrupted. "It is most imperative that you know there was a traitor-"
"Yes, I know."
He could almost see her taken aback expression as her core ran through an abort/reboot sequence. "You... you know?" Zadra asked, sounding incredulous.
"I do," Krel confirmed. "It was Varvatos Vex."
"Has the traitor paid for his crimes?" she demanded. And by 'paid for his crimes' she clearly meant 'is dead.'
Krel sighed. Zadra had, after all, been trained by Varvatos. She was no less bloodthirsty than her mentor. "Yes and no. There is a lot more going on here than you know about, Zadra. The situation has become very complicated."
"If he has hurt you or Princess Aja in any way-"
"Zadra!" He cut her off. "We can discuss that in length once you get here to Earth. In the meantime, there is much I must warn you and the Resistance about. General Morando is manufacturing advanced war blanks called OMENs. Do not underestimate them, or him!"
Another pause at her end. "Prince Krel-"
"Trust me, Zadra, even if you do not trust Varvatos," Krel said grimly. "Things are about to get worse, and much more dangerous."
Monday dawned fine and fair, in Toby's not-so-humble opinion.
"Up and at 'em, Trollhunter," he told his reflection in the mirror, grinning wide, enjoying the sight of (finally!) a mouth free of braces. "Oh, orthodontic appliances, how I do not miss you," he told himself. And, shooting finger guns at his reflection on the way out, "Lookin' good."
His good mood continued through breakfast, out the door, and during meeting up with Jim and then Claire to bike in to school together. Nothing could stop him. He was on a roll. He had rehearsed, and gotten notes from Chompsky. He was totally going to nail the speech to Trollmarket!
"Well, you are in a good mood today," Krel said in the locker aisle.
"Krel!" Toby checked him over. "Are you okay to be coming back to school today?"
Krel rolled his eyes. "You are the hundredth person to ask me that," he complained. "Does everyone in this Seklos-forsaken school know my business?"
"It's not like we're going for subtlety anymore," Claire pointed out, coming up behind him. "I mean, literally the whole school knows about you and Aja now, and you were absent last week..."
"Rumors spread," Jim said simply, joining them. "Seriously, Krel, you okay?"
Another eye roll. "I am fine," Krel said.
Two hours later, in gym class, Krel was leaned over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. "Okay, maybe I am not okay," he admitted.
"Tarron!" Coach Lawrence barked. "You're benched. Go sit with Pepperjack!"
Krel, for once, made no sarcastic complaint as he obeyed, hobbling over toward Eli, who hesitantly offered up his inhaler. Krel waved the offer off.
Logan snorted. "So much for alien superiority," he scoffed.
But Seamus, surprisingly, looked less derisive.
"C'mon, man, race you," Logan said.
"Maybe later," Seamus said, obviously to his friend's surprise. He turned, instead, and walked over to what he'd long deemed the "wimp bench."
"So, um." He scuffed the toe of a shoe on the floor and looked away, then back at Krel. "You're really from another planet?"
Eli straightened in surprise. A small smile grew on Krel's face. "I am," Krel said. "It is called Akiridion-5. It is about 40,000 light years from here."
"That's cool."
Krel's smile grew. "It is." He glanced around the gym. "But Earth is pretty cool, too."
"It is?" Seamus' question overlapped with Eli's.
Krel shrugged. "Sure. Do you want to sit and talk about it?"
Eli pushed his glasses higher. "I would love to hear more about Akiridion-5," he pleaded.
Seamus looked back at the rest of their class. At Coach Lawrence, who was looking at him. "I gotta get back to class. But maybe after school?"
"Deal. I will meet you in the locker aisle?"
"Can I come too?" Eli pleaded.
"Ugh." Seamus rolled his eyes. "Fine, dweeb."
"Yes!" Eli cheered as Seamus walked away. Krel just chuckled.
"Is Krel going to be okay for this weekend?" Toby asked Aja, who was looking worriedly at her brother.
"I hope so," she said. "Akiridion healing is faster than you humans', but..."
"But things take time, sometimes." Toby nodded, remembering just how hurt Krel had been. He gritted his teeth. "I swear, if you and Douxie hadn't already taken care of that bounty hunter and Kubritz..."
Aja nodded. "We must take care of each other," she said softly. "And though I do not think he will be willing to 'sit out' of the battle... we must be able to find some role for Krel to play that will not worsen his injuries."
"Or let him end up as Gumm-Gumm chow," Toby agreed, sobered.
The possibility of losing one of their teammates, again, was enough to ground even his mood.
No one dies this time, he promised himself. This time, everyone lives.