Krel awakens to the sound of the forest around him. He doesn't open his eyes immediately, instead trying to put together why it sounds like he's outside. Those weird Earth insects are chirping still, and every now and then he hears a faint hooting sound that sets him on edge. He can hear someone nearby, but he doesn't know who. Finally, he forces himself to painfully sit up and open his eyes. He's in less pain than he was before. He hopes that's a good sign.
The good news is, he doesn't think he's been captured again. He seems to be in some sort of makeshift shelter. A few feet away, there's what looks to be a troll humming to themself and doing something Krel can't see.
"Um, hello?" he says. His voice comes out hoarse and weak.
The troll spins around. She – at least, Krel thinks she's a she – brightens immediately. Her dark brown hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail above her faintly green face. She's smiling kindly. "Welcome back! I hope you're somewhat comfortable. Those were some bad burns you had."
"I… am, thank you," Krel says. He takes a short moment to glance at himself – a good portion of his body has been wrapped in bandages, including both of his left arms. When he spoke, he could feel the gauze and tape on the left side of his face, for the burns he knows are there.
The troll lumbers to the edge of the shelter. "Mugg! He's awake!"
She then walks back inside and Krel hears the sound of water being poured. She turns and offers him a cup. Krel takes it gratefully, lifting it to his lips and letting the water pour down his parched throat. It's cool and refreshing, and Krel never knew until now how much he took something like water for granted.
"Don't drink too fast, child," says the troll. "I'm Ungwella, by the way. My wife should be here shortly, her name's Mugg."
"I'm Krel," he says. "You're… trolls?"
She nods. "Yep. You're not, though. Not human, either."
"No," Krel confirms. "I'm an Akiridion – I'm from a different planet."
"What's this about a different planet?" Another troll – Mugg, presumably – walks in, taller and thinner with deep blue skin and black hair.
"Our mystery kid isn't from Earth," says Ungwella. "Never would have imagined it. Extra-terrestrials. Amazing."
"I thought all the trolls went to, uh, New Jersey," Krel says.
"We like it here," says Mugg. "Besides, travelling is no good for the little ones."
"You have kids?"
"Oh, goodness no!" Ungwella laughs. She gestures outside. "We have succulents."
Krel does not know what that means, but he decides against asking for the time being. He adjusts to a more comfortable sitting position and takes another sip of water, slower this time.
"How long was I out?" he asks warily. He only vaguely remembers passing out in the first place, but he knows it wasn't night when he did.
"We're not entirely sure," says Mugg. "Ungwella stumbled across you last night, so at least a day."
Longer than a day, then. Krel winces. It doesn't pull at his wounds as badly as it once would have. He gently prods the gauze, but Ungwella sends him a disapproving look and he lowers his hands.
"Quite the injuries you had," she says. "Now, we don't know the first thing about your kind, but I do know a thing or two about burns. Mugg here can get so reckless with the sunlight."
"I'm not that bad," Mugg grumbles.
"We did what we could for you," says Ungwella. "Is there anyone on this planet that can help you? Do you have a way to get home?"
"Home," Krel repeats. His eyes widen and he starts to push himself to his feet. "Home, I need to get home! My friends are in danger, I have to get to them!"
"Woah, woah, slow down, kiddo." Ungwella gently makes him sit back down. "We'll get you home. The human city?"
"Yes, Arcadia," Krel says.
"Breakfast first," says Mugg. "You must be famished. Now, we don't know what your kind eats, but I think Ungwella tried to make something human-friendly. We figured you were maybe some sort of weird type of human."
Ungwella happily presents him with a bowl of tan glop and a spoon. It doesn't look particularly appetising, but Krel eats it anyway. It doesn't taste appetising either, but it was really nice of them to go out of their way to make him breakfast. Ungwella's watchfulness makes him eat at a normal pace, as much as he wants to shovel the food down as quickly as possible. He took food for granted too, really. After all this, he doesn't think he'll take anything for granted again.
"If I may," says Ungwella. "What happened? No child should ever endure injuries like yours."
Krel takes another bite of the glop and thinks of how to explain it. "My friends and I were attacked. They lit the building on fire and blocked the magic so most of my friends couldn't fight. I tried to fight the bad guys myself, but – I got knocked out and captured. I escaped, but – I didn't make it very far before passing out."
"You poor thing," mumbles Mugg.
Krel finishes the last of the glop. Ungwella takes the bowl from him and gives him a fond smile.
"Do you feel up to walking, little one?" she asks.
"Yes," says Krel. He has to be. He has to get home quickly. He stands and wavers in place for a few seconds. Mugg reaches out as if to catch him, but he steadies himself and takes a deep breath. "I have to get home."
"Alright," says Mugg. "We'll walk with you. The night's still quite young, so we should be able to get you most of the way and still get back to our shelter before sunrise."
"Thank you," Krel says. "And for breakfast. And taking care of my injuries."
"Oh, of course, child," says Ungwella. "Alright, then, we best get a move on."
Krel follows them out of the shelter. He glances up at the sky – the stars are concealed by clouds, leaving the only real light source himself and specks of light he thinks have a name but he's not sure. Mugg catches him looking.
"Fireflies," she says. "Pretty, aren't they? I guess they don't have those on your planet."
"Everything glows on my planet," Krel says.
"I did notice you glowing," says Ungwella. "There are some races of troll that glow. Not us, obviously. But some."
"Do you know much about our kind?" Mugg asks.
Krel shakes his head. "No. I've only ever met three trolls, and one of them – well, it's complicated."
"Changeling?" guesses Mugg.
"Uh, no?" Krel says unsurely. "What's a changeling?"
"A changeling – well, I think that has become even more complicated now," admits Ungwella. "In the past, a changeling was a type of troll that could transform into a human as long as their human familiar remained alive and well."
"Familiar?" Krel repeats. "Like Archie? He's Douxie's familiar. He's a cat."
"Not exactly," says Ungwella. "From what little I know, the familiars have been returned from the Darklands, and now the changelings remain in their troll form."
"Well, I don't think Jim is a changeling," says Krel.
"The Trollhunter?" Mugg sighs. "So you're one of the Trollhunter's friends, then. That definitely explains the sort of trouble you've gotten into."
Krel laughs weakly. "Yeah, well… it's a mess."
"We trolls are no stranger to war," says Ungwella grimly. "You've heard, I'm sure, of the Battle of Killahead Bridge?"
Krel has very much not heard of the Battle of Killahead Bridge. He shakes his head.
"It was centuries ago," says Mugg. "Well, the first one was. I was still a child, younger than you."
"As was I," says Ungwella. "Well, you remember the Eternal Night."
"Yes, that I remember," says Krel. "The whole town was invaded by – evil trolls, I guess?"
"Gumm-Gumms," Ungwella corrects. Krel's heard that term from Toby before, but he never knew it referred to the evil trolls that had attacked the day of the Battle of the Bands. "Well, before they escaped, they had been trapped in a place called the Darklands. The first Battle of Killahead Bridge was when they were banished there – by the first Trollhunter, Deya the Deliverer. She defeated Gunmar, banished him and his armies to the Darklands, and Trollhunters have kept us safe ever since."
"Well, until your Jim came along and set Gunmar free," says Mugg. Ungwella elbows her. "But he also defeated Gunmar, so he can be forgiven."
"What's a Gunmar?" Krel asks.
"Gunmar was the fearsome warlord of the Gumm-Gumm army," says Ungwella. "I never saw him in person, mind, but – well, we grew up with stories of his terror."
"You can understand the panic it caused when he was freed," says Mugg.
"Yeah," says Krel. "I mean – we never had anything like that on Akiridion-5. But I can imagine."
"Tell us a little about your home, Krel," prompts Ungwella.
"Earth is my home," he says, glancing around at the trees and smiling. "There's no place like it. But Akiridion-5 is pretty cool too. We've been mostly peaceful, at least before the coup. I guess the only thing we have that compares to your Killahead would be the fight between Seklos and Gaylen."
Mugg hums in interest. "Seklos and Gaylen?"
Krel nods. "Gaylen was a celestial – he was actually from Earth, technically – who created Akiridion-5. Akiridions had previously been sort of planet-hopping, because they couldn't really find a planet to sustain their way of life. It's not a pretty picture, so it gets glossed over a lot. Anyway, Gaylen created Akiridion-5 and Akridions could finally permanently settle down somewhere. But Gaylen grew too strong – overcome by his power, they say."
He falls silent for a moment, wrapping his arms around himself and feeling the hum of his core, Gaylen's core, integrated and just as powerful, even if Krel doesn't know how to use all the powers. He shakes his thoughts away.
"So a royal Akiridion, Seklos, used her own life-core to kill him," he finishes the story. "The current royal house of Akiridon-5 is apparently descended from both of them."
He purposefully leaves out the fact that he's one of the royals – that he's heir to a legacy of destruction and power-hungry malice. The idea makes him feel cold even in the warm summer air.
"Incredible," says Ungwella.
"So, trolls really can't go in sunlight?" Krel asks. He isn't really in the mood to talk about his – what? Predecessor? – right now, not after all the trouble being Gaylen's heir has brought him.
"Only Stalklings," says Mugg. "The rest of us turn to stone. It's quite unfortunate, really."
"Mugg is just unusually fond of the daytime," Ungwella teases.
"Stalkling," Krel repeats. "I've heard that word before from Toby."
"Scary things, Stalklings," says Ungwella. "Pray one never sets its sights on you. You're a dead man walking if they do."
Krel shudders. Well, at least now he knows what types of troll to avoid – Stalklings and Gumm-Gumms. Granted, he doesn't know how to identify either, but he'll call it a work in progress. The more he learns about the life-beings of his new world the more he wants to know.
"What does a Trollhunter do, exactly?" asks Krel. He remembers the spiel Can-in-jars – no, Kanjigar, right? – made in his parents' memories, but it wasn't very detailed.
"The Trollhunter protects us," says Mugg. "Or they're supposed to, anyway. We've had – better Trollhunters than others. The human – or, well, no longer human Trollhunter has admittedly been one of the good ones, despite a few bumps."
"Jim's pretty cool," says Krel. "I don't know him that well, but he's Toby's best friend, and that means he's pretty cool."
"So you live here now?" asks Ungwella.
Krel nods. "My sister and I got stuck here for a while, but… I made a lot of friends and I like it here, so I stayed. Earth is a nice planet. It's more… I don't know, it's more alive than Akiridion-5."
He's not sure if alive is the right word, but here in the forest, surrounded by plant life and insects and birds, this planet definitely feels more alive than Akiridion-5's technological wonders. Akridion-5 doesn't even have any real form of native life. Gaylen created it, and the Akiridions brought everything else along with them. Earth has so much amazing life all around. Krel's never seen anything like it, and he desperately wants to protect it.
"Well, we're glad to have you," says Mugg. "You seem like a real good kid, Krel."
"Thanks," says Krel awkwardly. He's not entirely sure how to respond to that. Mugg laughs and reaches over to pat the uninjured side of his face, like his grandmama used to when he was little and he told her a story or did something she found cute.
Then Krel hears footsteps. He's immediately on guard, and when he catches sight of the source – the Red Knight, why does it have to be the Red Knight? – he ducks behind Ungwella and prays his glow won't give him away.
All three of them duck behind trees. Krel gulps and carefully peers around. The Red Knight approaches another man – old as Varvatos's human form, dressed in dark armour and carrying a staff glowing green – and kneels.
"He escaped," the Red Knight says gruffly. "He can't have gotten far in his condition. I will retrieve him."
"No need," says the old wizard. "Return to Arcadia, kill Arthur's little successor, but be careful. They're plotting your demise. I've done all I can to delay them. We must strike before they can strike first."
"But we need the boy to find the formstone!"
"Oh, he'll come," says the wizard. "These hero types, it's so easy to get to them. One word of their friends and family in danger, and they'll do whatever it takes to save them. Give up their humanity. Give up their lives. You name it."
Krel tries not to breathe too loudly, lest they hear, but he almost thinks the wizard knows he's listening. He needs to get home. His friends are in danger, but at least he knows they're still alive. He has to make sure they stay that way.
"Understood," says the Red Knight. "I won't let you down again."
"Yes," says the wizard. "See that you don't follow the same path as your brother… do keep your head."
The wizard's head turns. Krel ducks further behind the tree, holding his breath. All three of them listen closely to the footsteps and crunching leaves that follow, until finally Mugg says, "We're clear."
Krel breathes again, core buzzing hotly. That was close. Too close.
"That – that was Merlin," says Ungwella hesitantly. Krel's head snaps to face her. "The Merlin. He – I thought he was a good guy."
"Merlin," Krel mumbles. "Merlin! That's the one Toby said turned Jim into a troll. He did not sound like a good guy to me."
"He's the one who did this to you?" Mugg asks faintly.
"Well, the Red and Black Knights," says Krel. "But by his orders, I assume."
Her face pulls into an angry snarl. Ungwella has to grab her arm to keep her from stomping off. Mugg tries to jerk away from her. "Let me go! I'm going to give that man a piece of my mind! Hurting a child! More than one child! Oh, when I'm through with him–"
"Mugg, love, calm down," says Ungwella. "He's far more powerful than you. Let's focus on getting Krel home to his family, okay?"
She growls, but then glances at Krel and her face falls and she pulls him into a hug. "You poor dear."
"I need to get home," says Krel. "My friends – he's after them – I have to warn them before they make the mistake of trusting Merlin."
"We'll get you home," says Ungwella. She rests a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. We've got more walking to do."
It's probably several hours before they reach a place Krel vaguely recognises, although he still isn't one hundred percent sure how long an Earth hour is. He crinkles his nose at the initials carved into the kissing tree, even as Mugg reacts more like Aja and lets out a little, "Aw."
"The dawn will be here before long," mumbles Ungwella.
"I know where I am now," Krel says. "Thank you for taking me this far."
"Are you sure, little one?" she asks. "I hate to leave you on your own."
"We can take you the rest of the way and camp in the sewers until night comes again," offers Mugg.
"It's okay," says Krel. "Go back home where you'll be safe. I can make it from here. I've been here before."
"If you're certain," says Ungwella. "Come visit us when you get the chance, child. That means you have to survive. Understand?"
Krel laughs. "Understand. I'll come visit after this is over, and I'll bring all my friends. We'll all survive."
"Good," says Ungwella.
Mugg hugs him again. "We look forward to it. Be safe. If you need back-up, you know where to find us."
"Thank you," Krel says again. He waves to them as they leave, disappearing back into the forest, to safety, and a part of him is relieved. The less people involved in this mess, the less people who can get hurt. They'll all survive. He has to believe that.
He takes off running, all the way back to Arcadia. Toby's house first, he decides, because he needs to find his friends. He's not paying a ton of attention, so it's not surprising that he runs straight into someone and stumbles backwards.
"Krel?"
"Oh, it's you," Krel says in relief. Stuart continues to stare at him with an open mouth, before abruptly bursting into tears and pulling him into a too-tight hug. "Ow! Hey, hey, easy!"
"Oh, you're alive!" Stuart exclaims. "Oh, thank Gaylen! You gave us a scare! We thought you were dead!"
"Yes, I heard," manages Krel. "I'm kinda in a hurry though, I need to find my friends."
"Of course, of course, want me to drive you?" Stuart offers, finally releasing Krel. He looks him up and down and winces. "Yikes, you're in a right state. I'm definitely driving you. Hop in."
Krel is grateful for Stuart, always showing up when they somehow need him. He's missed spending time with the guy, but between all the running from Knights and the Gaylen's core thing, there hasn't really been much time to say hi to anyone else who wasn't involved.
"How are you alive?" Stuart asks.
"Uh, one part luck, one part Gaylen's core," Krel says. Stuart's eyebrows shoot up. Krel winces. "Long story."
"I saw your core with my own eyes," says Stuart. "Was there for the funeral! Beautiful funeral, by the way, really beautiful, a fitting tribute."
Krel is speechless for a moment. They... had a funeral? Aja thinks he's dead? He isn't sure what he expected. He should have known they would tell Aja. If they thought he died, if they thought they had his broken core, then of course they told Aja. Krel would have wanted them to. Unfortunately, he's not dead, so Aja thinking he is just completely complicates his life.
"It was a decoy," Krel says.
"Pretty good decoy to fool Aja," remarks Stuart. "Well, I'm sure everyone will be thrilled that you're alive! I sure am!"
"We have bigger things to worry about right now," says Krel grimly. He doesn't know how much – if any – the others filled Stuart in, but he continues as if his friend knows everything. Stuart is good with – what is the human term – going with the flood. "I've found out who the evil wizard is. He's coming for the formstone!"
"I don't entirely know what that means, but it sounds bad." Stuart makes a sharp turn, and Krel grips the armrests of the seat to hold himself in place. "Don't you worry, Krel, we'll figure this out. Oh, hey, remind me where we're going?"
That's maybe something Krel should have said at the beginning. "Toby's house. You know where that is?"
"Well, sure!" exclaims Stuart.
"Good," says Krel, because he does not know Toby's address. He doesn't even know his own address.
Sure enough, Stuart pulls to a stop in front of Toby's house. Krel is about to get out of the car, but a glance in the window stops him. Everyone is there, which would have been ideal, except everyone includes Merlin. Krel slams the door shut and buckles his seatbelt again.
"Never mind!" he exclaims. "My house, now! Quickly!"
"Uh, okay," says Stuart unsurely. He veers out of the neighbourhood. Krel is pretty sure no one saw him, but he really hopes he's right. The last thing he wants is for Merlin to attack his friends because Krel has made it back to Arcadia after all.
Stuart parks in front of the still-partially-destroyed mothership. They both walk inside. Krel finds himself wishing he had a front door. It wouldn't do much good against an ancient, evil wizard, but he'd feel a bit safer locking it anyway.
"Krel?" Ricky exclaims as he walks in.
"Krel!" cries Lucy. They look so relieved to see him that Krel has to wonder how much emotion and thought they actually have, and if it's even more than he ever gave them credit for. He lets them both hug him, thankfully less painfully than Stuart's. "We thought you were dead!"
"It's a long story," says Krel. The Blanks release him, and they and Stuart follow him down into the ship. Krel has no idea where his cell phone is – destroyed in the fire or afterwards by the Knights, probably – so the ship's systems will have to do. He's relieved to find he has Toby's number saved.
He calls the number and waits. It goes to the voice message box, so Krel tries again.
"Heyo, you've reached Tobias Domzalski, leave a message after the beep. BEEEP!" Toby's voice rings out for the second time.
"Toby, I'm not dead and I know who the evil wizard is," Krel says. "Pick up your phone!"
He groans and hangs up, then tries Steve. This is a bust as well. He'd try Seamus next but unfortunately Seamus's number was saved in his phone, not the mothership's still glitchy systems. He runs an agitated hand down the uninjured side of his face.
"Want me to try to call them?" Stuart suggests.
"You can try," Krel says, but if they didn't pick up for him – their supposedly dead friend – he doubts they'll pick up for Stuart, who's been known for calling about inconsequential things and inopportune times. He taps his fingers on his leg and tries to think of a solution. Okay, maybe he can track them. Once they leave Toby's house, he can go to them and Merlin won't be there. Hopefully. He sets to work initialising a tracking device honed on Toby's phone.
While that loads, he walks over to grab a spare serrator, one of the ones he'd already set up with transduction because he knows himself well enough to expect to lose his at some point. Turning on the transduction effect is simultaneously a breath of fresh air and a wave of fresh agony. His still-healing burns sharply protest the shift, but the bandages stay, warped to fit his human form. He pulls his hair back and ties it in a loose pony-tail at his neck.
"Looking good, your highness," says Stuart.
"None of that 'your highness', Stuart," Krel says. "Here I am just Krel."
And what a relief it is to be just Krel, even if just Krel still has the weight of a world on his shoulders. Stuart grins at him for a moment, then holds up his phone and shakes his head apologetically. "No response."
"Figured," he says. "Well, I'll know when they leave Toby's house, hopefully without Merlin. In the meantime, we need a plan."
"A plan!" echoes Ricky. "Plan for your retirement at–"
"No, no, no, no," Krel cuts in. "A real plan. Okay, think, Krel, think. How does a group of teenagers, a Knight, a university student, and a wizard beat a centuries-old evil wizard?"
"Quite the rag-tag team you've got there," notes Stuart. "You can count me in! Probably Aja, too, if you call her. Oh, she'll be thrilled!"
"No time to get Aja," says Krel. He paces, arms crossed, trying to come up with something that might work. Merlin is after the formstone. Maybe… they need to get the formstone first. Hide it or something. Except he's not sure they can move the formstone without destroying the planet. Part of him thinks no one should know where it is. Part of him thinks knowing would give the advantage.
"Alright," he mutters. "I need to find the formstone."
"Great," says Stuart enthusiastically. "Where do we start looking?"
"I… don't know." Krel drops to the floor and sits cross-legged, glaring towards the loading screen hovering above the tracking device. Maybe the armour will help – wait, the device. He delves his hands into his pockets, then, to his relief, pulls out the device. He has no idea how it got there, why the Knight didn't dispose of it, but he's grateful nonetheless. He mumbles the words and is shot into the air as the armour forms around him. Stuart's jaw drops. Krel lands on his feet. He can't help but smile at his friend's expression.
"This is incredible!" Stuart exclaims. He runs forward and lifts Krel's arm, running a hand on the metal and giggling delightedly. "How long have you had this? Why haven't I seen this before?"
"It's new," says Krel. "Uh, very long story short, I'm the heir of Gaylen–"
Stuart gasps. "Say no more! I mean, that doesn't explain everything, but it explains a lot. That's incredible, absolutely incredible. Alright, what's the plan?"
"I find the formstone, because supposedly I can," says Krel. "I don't know how."
"Maybe if you get close enough, you'll sense it," suggests Stuart. "Or maybe you can, like, meditate on it?"
"Meditation seemed to work for Steve," Krel muses.
"Really? I never would have seen that going well for him."
Krel sits again and closes his eyes. They don't have meditation exactly on Akiridion-5, so he's not entirely sure how it works. Still, Steve said something about clearing his mind, so Krel's going to try that and maybe focusing on the thought of finding the formstone. He knows it's in Arcadia. He pictures the town in his mind, the way it lights up at night, the way it makes him feel at home even though he's never seen anything like it in his whole life.
He opens his eyes. At first, it seems nothing has happened, but then he realises his glow seems brighter, and there's a faint white line extending away from him.
"Lively," he mumbles.
"Did it work?" Stuart asks.
"Can't you see it?" Krel says, gesturing to the thin line. Stuart shakes his head. Huh. It must be a Gaylen thing, then. Krel still doesn't know the extent of his own powers; the uncertainty scares him. He stands. "Come on. Follow me. We'll walk."
Following the line is easier, it turns out, from inside the mothership. As soon as he steps outside he realises that there are a lot more lines than just the one connected to him. They all seem to be going in the same direction, though, so he just follows the consensus. The closer they get to downtown, the more populated the area is, the brighter the world becomes. It's kind of beautiful. He wonders if this is anything like the auras Steve can see.
He's not even surprised when they end up in the canal, beneath the bridge Toby claims is always the final showdown. He should have guessed just from that.
Stuart leans on his knees, breathing heavily. "We there yet? Cause I can't run much further, not as fit as I used to be."
"We're here." Krel kneels, placing his hands to the ground. The formstone, hidden beneath layers of concrete, not as deep as Trollmarket but still concealed, hums and flares at his presence. It recognises him, and somewhere in his core he definitely recognises it.
"So… now what?"
Krel frowns. "I don't – I don't know."
Before he can make a decision or even come up with the options to choose between, his tracking device buzzes. He pulls it out and presses the button to show the holographic map of Arcadia. It seems both Toby and Steve have moved, downtown by the looks of it. Krel hopes Merlin isn't there.
"Now I go talk to my friends," Krel says. Stuart helps him to his feet, but Krel doesn't wait for him to follow. He takes off running. The armour flies off him as he runs and he catches the device and pockets it again. He skids to a stop the second he can see his friends, huddled around a table outside Benoit's, and hides in the bushes.
He doesn't see Merlin. He does see Jim, under an umbrella, and Claire and Eli. He's kind of surprised to see them, but they need all the back-up they can get. He takes a deep breath, then starts running again. The others start slowly noticing him. Seamus stands. Krel skids to a stop in front of their table and tries, breathless, to convey what he's learned with his hands. That's not working. Oh, and now his friends look like they might cry.
"Krel?" Steve says faintly; he too is pushing himself to his feet.
"I know who it is," Krel blurts. He realises that isn't incredibly clear. His friends' expressions are leaving him uneasy, but he gets it. To them, he just came back from the dead. He tries to reformulate in his head.
"What?" Toby says. His voice trembles alarmingly. "Krel – how are you – you're not dead?"
Krel shakes his head, finally putting the words together. "No time to explain. I know who the Knights' master is!"