"Natasha?" James said sadly. "My love, I'm afraid I've failed you after all." He rubbed the edge of his broken horn and took an uncertain step into the gloomy crypt. Natasha stood facing one of the grave plaques; she looked up when James spoke, but did not turn. "Stan and those two humans came," he went on. "The slave got free and turned on me and…"

"It's alright, Jamie," Natasha said sweetly, turning at last. She put her tentacles around his neck and lightly kissed his forehead. "I have everything I need already."

James beamed. She'd only been testing his love after all, or so he thought. "I'm glad, my love. I was afraid you'd hate me for failing you."

She smiled and shook her head. "You didn't fail me, Jamie. I never really expected a weak fool like you to succeed anyway."

James tried to jerk away as the reality of what she had so lovingly said hit him like a ton of bricks. "N…Natasha…?"

The demoness laughed lightly. There was no malice, no sarcasm; she sounded like she was talking to an old friend who'd suddenly become particularly dense. "Oh, sweetie, you're just not that good at magic. To be honest, I'm surprised the slave hasn't escaped already considering how you botched the consciousness spell. But that's okay. I've just been using you to gather power for me, anyway. And you did that marvelously, considering how adorably inept you usually are."

James gasped as he felt the magic that animated him begin to unravel. Natasha was still speaking, but he could no longer hear her. He could only think that she had betrayed him. He did everything for her, and she had betrayed him. He had told her how he had been made, and she was using that knowledge to unmake him. He wasn't quite gone yet when she let go, and so was able to see the name on the plaque. His last thought was that he should have known. Natasha had been Gohma's wife, after all.

She looked down at the remains of James and shook her head ruefully. "Oh, Jamie. Everyone knows that the Eclipse doesn't really exist. It is sweet that you would go looking for me, but it was very dumb. You poor thing, not even recognizing a fool's errand like that." She sighed and turned away.

Illisaith laid on his back and stared happily up at the star studded sky. Freedom suited him just fine, and as soon as he got rid of Stan, this would all be his. Then he would be the ruler, and everyone else would have to do what he said. He thought that made a nice change of pace. There was just one little problem.

Everyone kept mistaking him for Stan.

Those few others of his kind that had been called to this world over the centuries might not have minded that sort of thing, but Illisaith was not like them by any stretch of the imagination. He was an Evil King, created by an Evil King, and that made him evil. Very evil. So evil, in fact, that just to prove his evilness, he was going to get Stan back in a way that would sorely damage him.

He sat up and looked down at what was left of Rashelo. It was a good plan, he thought. He grinned malevolently, remembered he could talk finally, then changed his mind and laughed maniacally instead. It felt good to be free.

Hidden, the creature fluttered paper-white wings and smiled. It didn't know what Illisaith was thinking, nor did it particularly like his tone. But he was clearly happy about something, and that made the creature happy. It crept cautiously out of its hiding place and, using its wings like a cricket would, made a soft chirping noise.

Illisaith whirled around, ready for a fight. When he saw the creature, he narrowed his eyes. It was mostly humanoid in form, with four thin, insect-like wings hanging down its back. Its deep blue, slightly-too-large eyes were the only features on its face. There were only three fingers on each hand, and no discernable toes on its feet. Its body emitted a soft white light. It was only about four feet fall, but it hovered over the ground to be eye-level with Illisaith.

"I think…I know you…" he said slowly.

"Have I lapsed from the memory of all?" the creature asked sadly, using its wings as an audio medium. At Illisaith's obvious puzzlement, it continued. "I imagine it is to be expected. Long have I been trapped in that prison of glass. At least, you retain some faint knowledge. I am Radiant Star."

Illisaith decided to relax. "You were the power of the World Library."

"For so long, yes. I was. But we have both gained our freedom. What is your name, young one?"

Stan would have objected loudly to being called "young one", so Illisaith squashed down the urge to shout insults. Instead he told her his name and, with some prompting, his story and plans.

Star tilted her head and laughed. "It is an exemplary plan, young one. I would grant succor, if I may."

Stan would have objected loudly, saying he didn't need help. Illisaith grinned. "I would welcome your help."

Rainy season in Madril was as bad as it ever was. Not one to be blatantly daft twice, Rosalyn closed her parasol so it wouldn't blow away; it was too dark to see her shadow anyway. Even at midday, the sky was so full of clouds that the sun was a half-remembered dream. The streets were beginning to flood, the water having risen nearly half a foot just since the day before. The elevator, while still functioning, was quickly becoming a water tank. When the doors opened, what had to be at least ten gallons of water spilled out along with the pair of heroes. Stan, as usual, was immune to weather.

In a fit of brilliance, the innkeeper had put a blockade across the bottom of the door to keep the water out. By the time they got over it and inside, Rosalyn was again in a foul mood, Stan was laughing at her, and Ari was resigned to what would most likely be a very long day. Fortunately, the innkeeper remembered Rosalyn's temper, and their business was conducted in grateful silence. He looked at them strangely as they went past and wondered where the devilish laughter was coming from.

Stan, also not one to be blatantly daft twice, came out of Ari's shadow the second they entered the room. Ari himself tried to shake off his sodden clothing while Rosalyn headed straight for the shower. He glanced at Stan, who was now seated in the chair by the window flipping aimlessly through a tourist pamphlet. "You're being awfully quiet all of a sudden," he said.

Stan shrugged without looking up. "I'm bored, and this is going to be a very long afternoon. But if you really want, I can always order you to go find dinner." He glanced up and laughed at Ari's dismayed expression. "Relax, slave Ari. You're no good to me if you're sick. Just hurry and get dried off, so you can get back to attending to me." As an afterthought, he added, "Assuming, of course, that Hero woman doesn't take as long as your sister in there."

Ari grinned. "Or Marlene," he agreed. "Or mom."

"Women," Stan muttered. "Who needs 'em?"

They fell silent, and Ari wondered, not for the first time, at how Stan could seem almost normal at times. Anyone who didn't know them might even have mistaken them for a pair of buddies discussing the detriments of that aliens species known as woman. At least, they might have until Stan threw the pamphlet across the room and demanded, "Slave, entertain me!"

Ari shook his head and repressed a grin. "I thought I was supposed to dry off first."

"You were, but that damn woman's taking too long, and I'm bored. So entertain me."

The hapless boy shrugged. "What do you want me to do? Juggle?"

It was a testament to his ennui that Stan actually considered that for several seconds. "Juggling is stupid. Think of something else."

"Uh…"

"I know!" Stan announced. "Dance, slave!"

"What?"

"You heard me. Dance. Obey your master, slave."

Ari was spared the indignity by Rosalyn's muffled voice. "He's not your slave, pancake shadow!"

"That insult only works if I am a shadow," Stan yelled in considerably brighter spirits. "Which I'm not, you airheaded simpleton."

The bathroom door flew open and a righteously angry Rosalyn stalked out, her face red from more than just the hot shower. Ari ducked in behind her before the degenerative name calling could ensue. Unfortunately, not only was it still going on when he came back out, it had retrogressed to the point that they were simply calling each other stupid.

"You stupid, stupid, stupid Evil King," Rosalyn yelled, stamping her foot.

Stan growled. He was shaking with rage. "You're the stupid one, stupid Hero woman!"

Ari carefully and quietly left the room for all that it helped. A door opened off to his right and a disgruntled head poked out. "Are they going to be at that for much longer?"

Ari shrugged. "They'll be at it for the rest of day, off and on. Sorry."

"Can't you shut them up?"

Ari grinned and shook his head. "I value my life too much." He turned his back on the man's puzzled expression and wandered into the lobby where the shouting was mostly drowned out by the storm. A bucket positioned near the middle of floor was already half filled with rain water from a leak in the roof. The innkeeper gave him an odd look but left him in piece. He roamed around looking at some pictures on the walls until the sounds of shouting finally ceased, then walked back into the hall and groaned to see Rosalyn standing between a nearly rabid Evil King and a terrified neighbor. He heaved a melancholic sigh and slid back into the room as Rosalyn tried to convince the man that he really needed to go back to his room, and she was a Hero, she would handle it thank you very much. Stan snarled and lunged forward; he didn't succeed in getting past Rosalyn, but he did succeed in scaring the poor guy back into his room. And probably a mental institution.

"Human trash," Stan hissed between his teeth. He tried to slam the door in Rosalyn's face, but she caught it and slammed behind her. Ari decided not to ask.

"You know, Stan," Rosalyn began wearily. "Just because some poor guy wants you to shut up doesn't mean you need to go completely insane."

Stan harrumphed. "Well, he'll think twice before messing with Evil King Stan, again! You! Slave! Where've you been?"

Before Ari had a chance to answer, Rosalyn broke in. "Probably trying to get away from you!"

They glared at each other for what seemed like hours, but apparently they had exhausted their respective supplies of insults for the time being. Eventually, Stan retrieved his tourist pamphlet, and Rosalyn flopped onto the bed to stare at the ceiling. Ari stared at the window and fidgeted for a while. Part of him wished that something would happen, but another part was afraid that anything happening would set Stan and Rosalyn off again. Ever since coming back from the World Library, Stan had been unusually peevish. He was always quick to anger, or at least to shout juvenile obscenities, but lately he'd been considerably worse.

After some time during which the storm was the only noise, Rosalyn sighed and decided to risk her life. Or her sanity. Whichever broke first. "So how did you figure out Illisaith's name?"

Ari cringed, expecting another outburst, but Stan actually seemed pleased that someone had asked finally. "There, you see?" he said. "You try to tell me you think I'm stupid, then you come seeking my intelligence. You women are all just walking contradictions, aren't you?" He paused, but rather than wait for an answer that probably was not forthcoming anyway, he continued.

"Images are created using some pretty complex magic spells. Normally, they are completely loyal and without thought until you name them. And as he said, 'Name a thing, and you give it life.' But James always was pretty useless when it came to any kind of magic except teleporting. Illisaith should have come out of that mirror answering only to me. In order for him to be able to attack like that, James would have to have given him some sense of self awareness. However in doing so, he completely screwed up the spells. My copy was able to think of ways to get around James, like telling that imp to tell us where they would be.

"Normally, the person casting the spells would weave the name of the creature into the incantations, but I had a feeling James hadn't bothered. It is possible to do the magic without a name, but the result is usually unstable. Illisaith shouldn't have lived as long he did, especially since I wasn't the one who cast the spells. It must have been the sense of identity James gave him. But whatever it was, that part of the spell that required a name was still open, so I made something up."

Rosalyn stared at him for several minutes. "All that just to tell us you made it up? You really do like to hear yourself talk, don't you?"

Stan smirked and went back to his pamphlet. "You know, what you should have asked was what James wanted up there."

"I thought he wanted the power of Classification." Stan shook his head smugly and said nothing. After several seconds, Rosalyn huffed. "What did James want up there?"

"The power behind Classification. The power that kept Beiloune and Marlene alive all these years, that allowed him to separate this part of the world from the rest to begin with."

"You know, you can stop being mysterious any time now?"

Stan glared. "Well, then, maybe I don't want to tell you anymore!"

"I want to know," Ari piped up. "Master Stan," he added as Stan looked ready to tell him off for his impertinence.

Properly appeased, Stan nodded. "Supposedly, a long time ago, there was a being called the Eclipse. Actually, that's not a very good translation. It was an old word that meant both light and darkness at the same time, but no one remembers it anymore. Anyway, according to the legend, Eclipse was sealed away by a dark power, probably Beiloune."

"So you think James was looking for this…Eclipse?" Rosalyn asked dubiously.

"I don't believe it actually exists, if that's what you're asking," Stan responded scathingly. "But James has always been a little slow. I would have gotten rid of him years ago…I guess I should say centuries…if Classification hadn't kept me from properly noticing. It wouldn't surprise me if Natasha had sent him on some wild goose chase."

They lapsed into contemplative silence, and on all their minds was the same question: what was Natasha really up to?

"Hey!" Stan said suddenly. "The rain's slacking off. Slave!"

"I know, I know," Ari said resignedly. "Fetch dinner."

"Ha! See, now? That's how a slave should act."

"Stan, don't send him out in this weather. Ari, you sit right back down."

"It's alright, Ros," Ari said quickly before Stan could get started. "I'm hungry anyway."

Rosalyn stood. "Fine, then. I'll come with you."

"No, it's okay, really," Ari argued. He sidled closer to mutter in her ear, "Someone's got to keep an eye on him."

"What are you saying about me?" Stan demanded as Rosalyn snickered.

"If you're sure…" she asked, ignoring him. Ari nodded. Moments after leaving the room, he heard the altercation pick up again. Really, he was more than happy to get away.