Author's Note: Hey! Thanks so much for all the support! Really, every view means a lot to me. And I also found some time to update! So yeah! And now, here's Chapter 23! Hope you like it!

John

"Malcolm!" Six calls over from the other side of the room. The three of us are in Malcolm's hideout while Sam is in their house, catching up with his mom.

Malcolm and I both come over, passing the huge skeleton.

"Look at what I found!" Six says enthusiastically, holding up a huge, dusty book. The cover reads: "THE HISTORY OF LORIEN."

Six drops it on the cold stone floor, creating a huge thump sound.

We all gather around it.

The pages are slightly torn and yellowing, but otherwise readable. The whole book is covered with a thick layer of dust and the spine is a little bit worn out, making some of the pages fall out.

"Looks like this is all we need." Malcolm says, brushing the dirt from the book, making us all cough.

"Hold on." I say, standing up and grabbing a box full of red darts; like the ones Ella had used to make Setrakus Ra return our Legacies again. It's going to be useful, that's for sure.

"Hey, Malcolm?" I ask as we head back to their house.

"Hm?" he asks back, pushing his glasses backward.

"Did you know how you got these?" I twirl the box in my hands.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, in deep thought.

"I don't know, John. All I know is that it has something to do with Pittacus; I think it came from him, but I'm not sure." He explains.

I nod, not wanting to push him any further. There's a time and place for everything.

We all sit down on the couch in Sam's room, the tension between Malcolm and Mrs. Goode increasing as each second passes. Mrs. Goode is still pretty angry at him and Malcolm can't do anything about it. It's not like he can tell her the whole story.

"I've missed you so much." Mrs. Goode says, hugging Sam.

"You too, mom." Sam replies. To this day, I've never seen him happier.

…

Marina

My head is spinning and I feel nauseas. I'm in some sort of moving vehicle but I can't see anything. I think I'm blindfolded.

I can feel other people with me and I can hear them talking but I can't make out what they're saying.

I then realize my hands are also cuffed. I try to squirm free but I guess they must have noticed because one of them came up to me and tore my blindfold away so I can see his big, ugly, and menacing face staring right at me. I flinch.

"Well, Sleeping Beauty! You're finally awake!" he said. His sour breath was spitting at my face, making me feel even dizzier.

"Where am I? Who are you?" I manage to ask, mustering up all my strength for every word.

He simply laughs (or is it more of a cackle?) and sashays back to where his colleague was.

I'm in a truck, I suppose, filled with cardboard boxes stacked high. The two men are at the far corner, murmuring about something.

I've gathered up just a little bit of strength to telekinetically snap my handcuffs off. Slowly, I wiggle my hands free and manage to stand up.

The others notice immediately but I was prepared and used my telekinesis to hold them back. One of them collapses on the ground, unconscious, while the other one stays put.

I feel like the energy is being drained out of me as I try to keep the shield from collapsing. Finally though, it collapses.

The man lunges for me, holding a cloth of some kind. My blindfold.

Before thinking, I scream. The sound echoes and bounces off the walls, piercing the man and sending him flying out the truck, leaving a Mog-shaped hole behind. I almost chuckled, if not for the shouting I can hear from the driver's seat.

"Hey what's the ruckus over there? Mar—hey why don't you stop the truck, huh? CAN'T YOU HEAR ME TALKIN'?!"

The truck stops and I can hear the car door swing open.

I freeze.

Get ready, I thought as I plant my feet on the ground.

The truck door opens and a round man steps in. I can tell immediately that he isn't a Mog. First of all, he isn't pale and he has normal teeth. Second, he's wearing an FBI vest, and I can see his badge peeking from his shirt pocket; one of those US government allies that have teamed up with the Mogs. I feel sorry for them, really I do.

"Mart!" he shouts, his head whipping around.

"Looking for your Mog friend?" I tease, my breath heaving.

"What did you do to Mart?" he asks, dumbfounded.

Funny, I didn't even know Mogs had names. Maybe the high-ranking ones did, but those pale soldiers are treated as the expendable ones, so I didn't expect them to value them so much as to give them proper names.

The man lunges for me and pins me to the ground. My body aches too much to fight back.

I can see some letters imprinted on his shirt: SPECIAL AGENT PURDY.

He's surprisingly agile, grabbing a gun from its holster. I was readying myself to stop the bullet with telekinesis, but instead of shooting me, he whacks my head with it, making me unconscious.

…

I wake up feeling increasingly nauseous; even more nauseous than I was when I first woke up. I'm no longer in the truck, but in a white room, strapped to a chair. There are some men in lab coats walking around the room, testing out vials of chemicals on random animals like rats, bugs, even dogs.

My head is spinning and I can't remember anything. Who am I? Where am I?

One of the men comes up to me, holding a clipboard.

"Hello, Marina." He says, smiling. Marina. Marina. Marina. Marina. Who is Marina? I don't remember any Marinas. Maybe I was Marina. I don't know. I can't think straight.

"Who is Marina? Who are you? Who am I?" I ask.

He smiles down at me serenely. He looks so peaceful and nice. I figure I can trust this man.

He pulls out something from his coat pocket and injects it into my shoulder. I don't feel anything though.

"What are you doing?!" I shout, now feeling scared.

He pats my hair. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay…"

I find myself nodding unconsciously, feeling like I have no control whatsoever with anything I do or think.

He looks me straight in the eyes and I notice that he has really dark eyes. Darker than the darkest depth of darkness. Something inside me is telling me to run away from this man, but I can't do anything.

"Everything is going to be okay…" he reassures me, and I nod, feeling hypnotized. I'm agreeing to every word he says, believing him, trusting him.

"You are going to be much more powerful…" he says serenely.

I nod.

Now, he looks much more serious, his dark eyes the only thing I can see.

"You are a loyal Mogadorian soldier…"

I nod.