Epilogue

A man watches his children, and I Watch them all.

Each child has their own room, all in a row, courtesy of the Khalil Institute.

The children are genetically identical, but none are the same age.

In the first room, Max is an infant, sleeping soundly in a small crib adorned with a mobile. The man, Leonidus Angelos, gives the little guy a gentle poke in the tummy, making him squirm and smile, but not wake. He's actually considered to be the oldest of the children, but for most of his life he was unable to learn or grow. Developmentally, he'll be two years old in another month.

In the next room, the man pauses to watch his son, who's the equivalent of four years old. The child is playing with blocks, stacking them impressively high. One block tumbles from the top of a stack. The man kneels down, picks it up, and places it back on the stack. The little boy looks up, smiling. "Thanks, daddy. I gonna get'em taller'n me."

My heart aches, for there should be a room with a six-year-old boy. I still remember Lamia forcing me to take that child's life, just before I encountered Klaus-21.

Instead, the next room houses a boy of nine. He laughs with delight as he plays a VR game, and Leo asks, "Did you beat your top score?"

Max IV pulls off his goggles. "Big time! Earth stopped playing this game sixty years ago, but before that, the top score ever was eight hundred million. I just got seven, and I know I can do better."

"Well, you've practiced for twelve years, and your brain's growing again. I bet you'll hit a billion at least."

In the next room, the man observes his twelve-year old son reading a novel. The final book in a series of fourteen, he read the first volume dozens of times as an Unwanted. I look forward to him finally reaching the conclusion of the story. I have a suggestion for his next series, taken from the reading lists left behind by Tácito Nelson.

In the next room, the boy is fifteen. He has always been home-schooled, though Elpis will soon resume public classes. Nevertheless, he wears a gym uniform. He performs a full handstand, laughing at the ease with which he lowers his head to the carpet, then raises himself back to his full height. I'm genuinely impressed. With my prosthetic left arm, frail build, porous bones, and missing ribs, I could never manage something like that. "Do your worst, Dad!" Max VI says. Leo circles the boy, giving occasional shoves, playfully trying to knock him over. When Max finally starts laughing too hard to catch his breath, a push topples him to the floor. Gasping, the kid says, "Tomorrow… I'll start trying one-handed!"

In the next room, eighteen-year-old Max VII has paused in the middle of a meal, lost in thought. But he turns when his father arrives. "I wish… I'd been able… to do more…"

"You did enough," Leo says gently. "You pushed, learning and training all you could during the time you had. You're a very big part of why the Eighth was strong enough–and brave enough–to help Charlotte free our world."

Max nods, and returns to his meal. I'll make it a point to visit him later. As the oldest–physically–of Max's Unwanted on that fateful day, he still feels irrational guilt over his inability to directly join the cause.

I wish there was a room for Maximus VIII. I again think back to when he lured me–and Lamia–within Charlotte's reach. I remember the sickening feeling of driving the pencil into the brave boy's heart… But I smile grimly as I recall how he managed to knock me to the ground, even after that terrible moment. If not for that feat of pure will… Lamia would still live, my existence would still be unbearable, and the Unwanted would never have been healed.

In the final room, Maximus IX is packing for his move. Nearly identical to the boy who died at my hand, the twenty-year-old hero isn't satisfied with his own role in stopping Lamia. His reckless stunt with the ATV was crucial to Charlotte's success, but in his eyes, his contribution could never compare… because he survived.

"You're sure about this?" Leo asks.

"Absolutely," the Ninth insists. "Elpis finally has hope, but it'll be a long road. We need more police who care, who believe our society can recover. And with Watcher support, I know it can."

"You're as good as he was," Leo whispers, and Maximus pauses his work. "And as brave. You both did all you could. And you succeeded."

"But he paid the price," Max whispers. I can tell he's fighting back tears, and I consider ending my Watch.

"He did. And you are the one who carries his memory. Literally. You remember running after Charlotte, convincing her to accept your help, and choosing to be bait. You'll live your life doing what he would have done… and I'll stay proud of both of you."

The young man breaks down, the father moves in to hug him, and I give them their privacy.

I end my Watch.

The aches and pains of my badly malformed body weigh heavily. My implants and prosthetics help, but discomfort will be a core tenant of my reality for as long as I breathe. Compared to my hellish existence as an enslaved Unwanted, I know I'll never complain about my new life. In a month, Niko, Peng, Ymir, or perhaps Willard, will bring me back to Earth. My ocular implant will be updated, and Doctor Sharma will oversee my next series of treatments.

Maximus IX wants to be a guardian. Several of his predecessors took that role for their "younger" selves. And the Eighth acted in defense of all Unwanted.

But I function as a guardian… of an entire universe.

Renya Baldwin's team have worked with me extensively, dredging my memories of the months leading up to the Lamia Incursion. I am posted at the Khalil Institute, which is now an official branch of the Watcher Organization, so that I can stand guard.

Lamia never returned home, so it's hoped that the other denizens of Exovasillio will never risk entering our universe as It did. But if any of them start to look outward upon our reality, if they even consider coming to Elpis… I'll feel it.

And I will stop them.

While the other Watchers train daily in skills such as physical projection, abduction, telekinesis, spatial gateways, and invisibility, I specialize in a role that I'll one day teach to the others.

The Watchers will learn to shield our reality from any future incursions.

My implants alert me to an upcoming event, and I smile. After months of turmoil, upheaval, and organizational restructuring, things have finally settled enough for a certain little game to resume. I've heard stories, off and on, during my time with Niko-29. I'm eager to see him in action.

I trigger my MD-Λ pump, and resume my Trance. I send my mind to Watcher HQ on Earth.

"Hey! 30 made it in time to observe." Peng-24 nods toward my perspective. He's getting particularly good at recognizing and even locating a Watcher's mind without needing to enter his Trance.

The others wave, including the two young women from the Archive division that I haven't met in person.

As the new GM, Niko-29 hosts the group. He always sleeps on relativistic starships, so his apartment's been remodeled into one giant gaming room in preparation for this day. The players are gathered around an impressively large table. Holos, built-in screens, and quaint physical miniatures cover the surface. "It's been a long hiatus," 29 says, "but I needed time to prepare. Klaus had exabytes of notes, plans, imagery, and audio, but I'm finally ready. For the sake of our new players, let's take a second to get everybody up to speed. Introduce your characters!"

One of the Archivists says, "I'm Helena Vask, the Mandalorian Mercenary. On this planet, I'm an Occulator and a Stoneward of the Third Ideal."

The red-haired Archivist is better prepared. With a wave of a hand, she projects a design of her character on the main Holo, and theme music with epic bass starts playing. "I'm Guulo the Savage, Hutt Crime Lord and Gladiator Supreme. On this planet, I'm a Coinshot and an Awakener of the Fourth Heightening."

Though I can't begin to guess what any of this means, I feel a warm contentment at how excited these players are.

Old Logan Walsh, Head Archivist, loads a new holo file. "I've inherited Duri-22's character: Gorignak the Trandoshan Padawan. I'm also a Genin-level Shinobi, an Elantrian Aeonist, and the Keeper of the Alvalaithan."

Anya-28 holds up a beautifully painted miniature with impressive detail. "I'm running Niko's old character, Trekk the Ewok Gadgeteer. On this planet, I'm a Steelrunner and an Aes Sedai Rithmatist of the Green Ajah." She blushes. "Oh… and there's something about having a 'Cytonic Hemalurgic spike,' but seriously guys, I don't have a clue how that works… Sorry everyone, I really tried to do my homework, but this is a lot."

"No worries," Niko says. "GLaDOS can answer basic questions, and the veteran players will help with the details."

Everyone turns to the final player, and Peng hesitates.

"Don't be shy," Niko says encouragingly. "We're all happy you joined."

The holo displays a tall, magnificent soldier in silver armor, with a black-bladed sword and a tall black shield. "I'm a new character, a half-elven Mistborn who wants to explore the Galaxy with all of you."

"And your name?" Logan prompts.

Peng hesitates again, then he makes eye contact with Niko. "I'm… Benny Rakoto, Champion of Gondolin."

I can tell that Niko would be fighting back tears if his cybernetic eyes could produce them. I must again remind myself that I did not choose to take all those lives. Lamia did. But I can still remember so much…

Taking a second to compose himself, Niko manages to smile, then he addresses the room. "When the campaign left off, the Party and their local allies were under attack by Smaug the dragon and his Nine Champions. The Everstorm is on the horizon, approaching fast. You just learned that Princess Leia, Daughter of the Chosen One, is a Sliver of Infinity. Your goal: Defend her while locals in a Time Bubble teach her the basics of her powers." Niko's tone and expression grow dead serious, and I feel myself drawn in. "This will be the hardest fight any of your characters have ever faced… but the Force and the Valar are with you."

Everyone leans in, even Peng, as the holos display a selection of imagery Klaus-21 prepared for this moment. Niko reaches under the table, produces a splendid dragon miniature twice the size of his head, and places it on one edge of the map. I have a sudden urge to join in. Whenever I visit Earth, I hope they'll let me play as a guest. Though I won't really know what's going on… I'll enjoy every second of it.

Ambient music, environmental holos, and the sounds of lightning and roaring wind fill the room. Niko grins. "Everyone… roll for initiative!"

Author's Afterword:

Thank you for reading. Many years ago, after I had the nightmare that is the prologue to this story, I was fascinated and horrified in equal measure. When I wrote it out and shared it with friends and family, several said that it felt like "the opening scene of a movie." I agreed that it was a premise with great potential. People who can project their minds anywhere? Unwanted duplicates of children left behind as they grow? And a terrifying little girl that saw me, dragged me into the dream… and then turned into an Eldritch horror to kill me?

It took many years before I felt confident in my ability to finally write a novel-length story based on that dream. And I approached it as if the dream were someone else's work, and I was trying to faithfully adapt it into something bigger. I did my best to take every element of that dream and extrapolate an entire world and set of circumstances that might explain it all.

I also embraced the idea of the First-Person POV character dying in the prologue. I hope it was as surprising to you as it was to me during the dream. I chose to adopt the secret challenge of writing a whole story with a "dead protagonist." The ensemble cast of characters wasn't purely a result of needing multiple Watchers and a whole organization to support them. I also wanted to avoid having any one character steal the spotlight and become the obvious protagonist. Poor Klaus (not my name, and he's way cooler than me) got massacred in the prologue, but the story never forgot him.

I also set myself the challenge of writing a horror story that would still manage to feel uplifting, hopeful, and empowering. Real life includes some deeply disturbing, scary, and tragic things, but we don't have to give up or become someone we'd no longer respect. A person can choose to stay decent, brave, and caring, even if they face genuinely terrible circumstances. So, while keeping the promise of "brutal horror" set up by the end of my nightmare, I strove never to lose sight of the human element. The "best of the best" stayed true to themselves and each other no matter how grim things got.

I hope you enjoyed this exploration of that old nightmare of mine. Reviews are certainly welcome, so long as you avoid spoiling details for other readers. I'd be curious to know if you felt a specific character did steal the show and became the protagonist, despite my efforts to keep it focused on the team as a whole (and to leave room for Klaus to be the secret, dead protagonist).

If you want to give me specific feedback in a way that won't spoil things for others, you can post with answers to the following numbered questions, which shouldn't give anything away:

1: Who was your favorite character?

2: If anyone felt like the sole protagonist, who was it?

3: Whose death hit you the hardest?

4: Whose survival surprised you?

5: Did Lamia ever make you want to run screaming and/or throw up?

6: Which Watcher power would you want the most, and why? Mental Projection, Physical Projection, Abduction, Spatial Gateways, Telekinesis, or Invisibility?

7: Bonus: Did you put together the esoteric clues to figure out what year the main story is set in?

Also, I'm pondering writing a prequel to this story, set sixty-five years earlier. It would follow the first Watchers, their early efforts to stay hidden, the founding of the Organization, and the early attempts by various groups to murder them. I have many other projects that will come first though, including a prequel and a sequel to "The Children of Rohan," the story that healed my brain from trauma.

Again, thanks for reading. I know it often got complex and technical, but you made it to the end. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.