I was tired. Trying to act as the author instead of an avatar character was taxing on me. There was a meridian-era vehicle parked near another entrance to the prison. I yawned as I drove Moebius and Malek back to my home.

I should have left them both, but my conscience was strong enough to drive me to stupidity. With these two and the three vampires, I was concerning myself with five children that shouldn't be my responsibility. Six if Janos had somehow been involved in this insanity.

I sighed and hit the control panel in irritation at my situation. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. At least Moebius and Malek were being quiet. They sat in the back of the vehicle and watched the scenery drift by.

When I returned home, I confirmed that Janos had been affected as well. Six children that I didn't rightly have any obligation to.

I might be able to find other quarters for Vorador, Malek, and Moebius; some family that would take each of them in. Trying that trick with Kain or Raziel would be more difficult; their names had less chance of being lost to history. With Janos, such a thing would be impossible.

I decided to handle the situation without the help of Nosgoth's residents. I commanded my Muse to assume a humanoid form, though it protested that it knew even less than I about dealing with children, and disappeared on some unknown errand.

Telepathic message from the dragon-muse: Smoke didn't realize that she didn't know children when she got herself into this mess. She might've mentioned something to that effect in the notes at the beginning of this arc. There are some odd ideas that you might catch in conversations, but what actually happened while they were children is up to your imaginations, so big time-jump here. The muse's errand was supposed to be going to author-space to beg for help, but I'm rebelling.

.

I awoke to a resounding crash. Statistically, it would be one of the meaningless objects that littered my home. It sounded like a vase. I buried my face in my pillow and contemplated everything that had happened since the children had entered my story.

Their shifting alliances were the oddest part. It seemed that events from their adult lives randomly affected their childhood decisions. Kain and Malek even decided to gang up on Moebius at least once. Raziel was usually the first to step in during any fight he didn't actually start.

I winced as I heard a loud bang. The last time I heard anything like it was at an exposition where someone had accidentally knocked a television off of its stand. I lurched out of bed and staggered downstairs.

Sure enough, all six of them were in the entertainment room. They were staring guiltily at the television, which was lying face-down on the floor. Unlike the rest of my appliances, it was not compatible with Nosgoth's power supply, so therefore I didn't use it often. However, I was peeved at its loss. The only thing fortunate about the situation was that the generator wasn't running.

I let out a long, hissing breath and felt the last shred of my patience leave with it. I grabbed Moebius by the back of the shirt and snapped, "You, clean this up. You're grounded for the next twenty years."

The rest panicked at my anger and ran from the room. Moebius whimpered against my hold and protested, "I'm not the one who broke it."

"You caused this whole mess with your stupid time spell." I didn't yell, but my tone had much of the same effect. "It's all your fault."

On reflection, it wasn't exactly fair to show my temper, not when his mind was innocent. As I sipped at my morning coffee, I hoped that I had somehow goaded him into discovering that he was the timestreamer.

My presumption was correct as shortly afterward a taller Moebius emerged from the entertainment room in a cloud of acrid smoke.

"It has been twenty years," he commented.

I glanced over his shoulder to see a disaster of dissasembled equipment and melted plastic. "But you didn't clean up the mess."

Suddenly, I lunged and pinned Moebius to the wall. I guess too much time spent with the vampires had caused me to adopt some of their violent ways. Moebius struggled in my grip and almost managed to break free. He was lanky even in youth, but he was stronger than he looked.

My determination and greater weight gave me the leverage I needed to keep my hold on Moebius. I stared angrily into his steely blue eyes and said, "I would prefer that you clean up the bigger mess."

Moebius struggled again, but stilled when he felt a vague crackle of power building up around me. "I can't simply reverse it."

"I don't believe you." My flat tone held more menace than yelling or growling.

"Even in this form, the only thing I retain from my guardianship is knowledge," Moebius explained. "I would need to build another mechanism and find a block that could power it."

"No blocks," I insisted. "Those things are more dangerous than you know."

Moebius relaxed slightly as I pulled my arms away in an uneasy truce. His gaze was focused inwards in thought. "I can't do anything without taking that risk."

"What if you cannabalize the chronoplast?" I asked.

Moebius stared at me in horror that I would even suggest such a thing. He calmed and said, "Though it is powerful, even that wouldn't be enough."

"The blocks can't be that powerful," I contended. "Gather what you need. I'll find another power source."

As Moebius started to walk away, I roughly pushed him back into the wall and held him there. "And no funny business," I breathed. I purposely let my power take on a cold and sinuous quality as it encroached into his mind; like tentacles. Moebius cried out in revulsion and staggered away once I released my physical hold on him.

Feeling slightly queasy myself, I examined the mess in the entertainment room. I yanked a spliced cord out of the wall and plugged the lamp back in. Identifying what components had come from which device was truly impossible, nothing had been spared. The time manipulation device itself was now a smoldering puddle.

Deciding that the entire room was a loss, I locked the door. Given time, I would gain a new space with the same function, even if its appearance decided to change.