AN: Dear Readers, Thank you for reading my story. It's been a while since I updated as I've been busy with family the last two weeks. I'd love some reviews, even with criticism. I don't really feel the name of the island or the trickster is "perfect" so I'd love suggestions on that specifically. I stink at coming up with names. Thanks! Allegra

It had been two weeks since the clan had lost their beloved elder. True to his word, Goliath had restricted her to her rooms during the day. Not only were her implants reprogramed appropriately, but her room's security gate was closed for the first time since she'd been moved in two-years prior. Owen came to check on her occasionally during the day, asking if there was anything she wanted, and though there really wasn't anything she could think of that would improve her situation, she was still feeling stir crazy again the moment he left. It didn't help that her inactivity allowed her mind to become preoccupied with the Hunter. Thus far, there was no word that he'd been captured, which left her in a chronic state of anxiety. While the period of being lax on her exposure to the outside world was on an indefinite hold, she was certain Goliath and Xanatos would want to alleviate her anxiety if the Hunter was behind bars. What made the situation worse, was that while the boredom of her confinement encouraged her to seek more sleep, more sleep only meant more and more nightmares about the Hunter. She was certain that they hadn't heard the last of him, and that Goliath was not taking the threat seriously enough.

Also true to Goliath's word, one of the members of the clan came to fetch her each night and escorted her to the main part of the castle, where the others were gathered. In the aftermath of Hudson's loss, there was a natural desire for the clan to be together for a good part of the night, so there were discussions, games, and often a good meal. She was generally cold toward Goliath, though she still mourned with him over Hudson and she had to admit to herself that she believed him when he insisted that the current arrangement regarding her incarceration was really not what he wanted. Even so, the injustice of being punished for an undefined crime that Xanatos was afraid she might consider committing required her to make some sort of opposing statement. She knew that was the case, regardless of her sympathy for Goliath while in grief.

What she didn't know was that she was not the only one giving him grief over the situation. Although she took great care not to make her mother aware of the division among the rest of the clan, Angela was livid. There had been three large arguments between herself and her father on the subject. Brooklyn had also argued on Demona's behalf, pointing out that punishing someone for something they hadn't done immediately after they had done something of merit was sending a very conflicting message. Even Lexington and Broadway had gathered enough pluck to approach their leader, complaining that the new restrictions were unfair. There couldn't have been a worse time for Goliath to not have Hudson at his side, for the situation filled him with doubt and distress, and he yearned for counsel from his wise, old friend. Elisa, who was typically the next confidant he went to for advice, seemed oddly hesitant to discuss the issue with him. She merely confirmed that his choice made sense and might be necessary, but she understood his feelings about it. Deprived of the comfort of his mentor and his dearest friend, he felt quite alone. He wondered if this was how Demona felt all the time, and how she might feel if she'd known how her clan had taken up for her.

One Tuesday night, as Brooklyn escorted her to the courtyard for their weekly training session, she noticed two strange lights shining vertically over the parapet on the southern wall.

"What is that?" she asked him and he invited her to climb the tower and see for herself. She hesitated as she knew that Goliath did not like her on the towers where she could see the city below, but she reasoned that Brooklyn was her escort that evening and she could let him take the rap for it. He turned off the barriers on her implants and they climbed the southern wall and tower. Two enormous and intense beams of light shone from the footprints of the World Trade Center.

"What are they?" she asked Brooklyn and he shrugged.

"A memorial, for those who died. A dedication for the heroes who tried to help. A commitment that our city is going to go on and get better. All that sort of thing."

She stared silently at the strange memorial for several minutes. Brooklyn wondered what she was thinking. If she was considering any of those things, or just enjoying the breath of wind in her face for the first time in so long. Finally, he led her back down to the courtyard to begin their training.

That night, after the clan had left to go on patrol, she was surprised by a visit from the Child of Oberon.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, "I thought you'd forgotten me!"

"Of course I haven't! I've been visiting, so I wasn't able to come see you."

"Visiting? Where? On Avalon?" she asked curiously.

"No. Not on Avalon!" he laughed, and then abruptly changed the subject.

"I got some presents!" he exclaimed, holding up a royal blue, velvet bag, "Look!"

A little apprehensive, she took the bag from him and peeked inside. It was filled with thin pieces of a white substance that glistened a bit when she took a piece out.

"Is this chalk?" she asked, hoping she wasn't about to be asked to play a game of hopscotch.

"Yes! It's from my Godfather. It's exactly what we need! And I got another gift from my Grandmother, but I can't show it to you yet. My Godfather has it. He says I'm entirely too young to control its powers, but when I am old enough I'm going to use it to help you break the Hunter's curse!"

"That's very kind of you," she replied, though she was wondering exactly how long it took an immortal being to read an age of maturity. They could all be enjoying a new ice age by then!

"Anyway, we can use this in the meantime," he said excitedly, gesturing to the bag of gleaming chalk, "What's your plan?"

She shrugged, "I've not got all the details worked out yet." The boy fell forward on the bed in exasperation.

"It's been forever since I last saw you! You still don't have a plan? Didn't you learn anything useful when I helped you escape before?"

"I did find out some things," she admitted, "I found out that one of the Hunters was paralyzed in our last battle."

"Paralyzed?" he repeated curiously, not understanding the significance.

"His spine was severed so he can't walk anymore. And there's no medical cure."

"So, you're trying to find a magical cure?" he wondered.

"I reckon that if a relatively minor injury started this whole thing, fixing a devastating injury might make amends?" The boy seemed to consider the proposition before smiling and saying,

"Yes. I think that could do it. Have you figured out how?"

"I don't suppose fixing a severed spine is one of your magical talents?" she asked awkwardly.

"I can do a scraped knee, a small cut, or a sunburn…but not mortal wounds. A severed spine sounds like more than I can do without some help."

She sighed. "One would think that healing injuries would be one of the first tricks a young child of Oberon would learn," she groused, "That has to be in pretty high demand."

"Well, my teacher says the top three things mortals request from our kind are love, revenge, and having a baby."

He gave a squeamish look before continuing, "But I'm not supposed to do it anyway! If you want to break the curse, then you have to be the one to make amends."

"Fair enough," she replied, then she added hesitantly, "I remember a story I heard as a hatchling. It was about a clan of gargoyles that lived on an island that was protected by one of Oberon's own. According to the story, he was a trickster that created powerful gems that could heal any injury. I was wondering if there was any truth to that story."

"I've never heard of it, but that doesn't mean a lot. There are a lot of my kind out there that I don't know about. They try to protect me too much." he explained with a touch of disdain.

"If I was able to get my claws on one of those gems and cure the Hunter's paralysis, would that be enough to break the curse?"

"I would think so," he said,"Do you remember the trickster's name?"

"No," she admitted, "How I wish I hadn't given Xanatos those books!"

"Oh?" the boy asked curiously, "What books did you give him?"

"I had two journals written by Xarastrian, Historian of the Fairfok," she explained, "I went to great lengths to get them and, unfortunately, I left them in his care."

"Why?"

She shrugged, as if she herself couldn't recall the reason.

"I had gotten what I wanted from them at the time, and he was still very interested in the stories and their potential for his future endeavors," she replied. Then, as if she was admitting to something a little shameful, she added, "They were written in ancient Greek. He was the one who helped me learn to read them. Without him, we'd have never gotten the Grimorum back and I would most likely never have come close to breaking the spell on my clan. I suppose I left them to him as a token of gratitude."

She was still and thoughtful for a brief moment, before the boy asked, "If he helped you so much, why do you still hate him?"

She laughed cynically, "Where to begin? There's ample reason to despise him, far more than I actually do! He's amoral, opportunistic, arrogant, self-centered, and more-or-less does precisely what he wants with no regard for justice, responsibility, or integrity. He is, by nature, the polar opposite of everything I loved in Goliath, and even so, it is none of that that inspires my hatred. How could it be when I have become no better than he?"

The fairy looked confused.

"What then?" She shook her head somberly.

"He is one of them."

The boy fairy sighed and let his chin rest in the cup of his hand.

"What'll we do with you?" he asked incredulously.

"There's not a thing to be done with me," she snapped at him, "Unless it has to do with undoing this curse." The child of Oberon seemed to consider this.

"Do you think those journals are still somewhere in the castle?" he asked her.

"With Xanatos, they could be anywhere," she replied, "I wouldn't put it past him to go to extreme lengths to keep them away from me. But when I last saw them, they were in his private library."

The child of Oberon rose suddenly and confidently.

"Then we'll start looking there!"

She gave him a mischievous smile.

"You mean to break me out again? It won't be so easy this time. Xanatos has me in lockdown and even if you could open the gate, my implants will render me unconscious the moment I attempt to cross a boundary."

The boy picked up the velvet bag of chalk and pulled a piece from it.

"Then we won't do that!" he replied slyly. Then, taking the chalk with him, he opened the rolling door on the closet in her bedroom. There wasn't much in there. She only had a couple of outfits for her human form, some pajamas, and a hooded jacket. The whole lot fit in a laundry basket which sat on a shelf next to a single pair of sneakers. Most of the enormous closet was empty and the young fairy crawled into the ample space beneath the lowest shelf and gestured for her to follow. She noticed how the glow of the chalk illuminated his excited face as he slid the door shut behind them.

"You've grown since I saw you last," she commented and he grinned.

"My mother says that too. They gave me new clothes that fit me better."

He patted the breast of the white garment he wore and she noted the threads of the embroidery glistened with that same shimmering color that seemed to be all colors at once. The same mysterious color that she had come to associate with sweet dreams and the center of his eyes. In her experience, all of Oberon's children had such eyes if you looked closely enough, but his were different in a way she couldn't place.

"It's more than your size," she added, "You look and sound older as well."

He seemed pleased by her observation, but he didn't reply. Instead, he took the piece of chalk and drew a large, lopsided rectangle on the wall. The lines of the chalk shimmered and glowed as he chanted the incantation and etched symbols into the middle of the rectangle. The texture of the wall seemed to change, almost as if it was made of illuminated melting glass.

"I'll bet there's no boundary set on this doorway!" he exclaimed proudly, "Go ahead." The look of melted glass suddenly disappeared into blackness and she reached to touch the rectangle, only to realize it had given way to a dark space. She looked at the boy hesitantly.

"Go on!" he encouraged and she began to crawl through, into a passageway that was dark as an underground cavern and about as cramped.

"Hurry up," came the voice of the boy behind her.

"I'm trying," she hissed in response, "You might have drawn an adult gargoyle sized doorway!" Finally, the texture of the floor beneath her became rough, like that of a carpet, and she emerged from the tunnel and out from under a large, ornate desk. She stood upright and looking around, exclaimed, "You've done it! This is Xanatos' private library."

"Right!" the young fairy replied, "Let's find those books!" They set themselves to looking through the floor-to-ceiling bookcase.

"There's a good chance they won't be here," she thought out loud as she scanned the shelves, "I doubt he would make it that easy."

"I don't know, but I have a feeling that they are here," he told her nonchalantly as he spun around in Xanatos' wheeled leather armchair.

"Why not take that shelf down on the floor?" she asked him uneasily as his whirling accelerated until he was a blur.

"But…I…can…hardly…read…yet!" he giggled as he spun.

"I see. Well, try not to break anything," she chastised, "And keep it down so no one hears us and comes prying!"

She continued to search the shelves while he continued with his antics. She was surprised and amused at the variety of Xanatos' private collection. The last she'd seen of that library, it had proudly displayed the rarest, most priceless, and most dangerous among his collection, including both the most ancient manuscripts on dark magic and the newest research mechanic weaponry. Now, the shelves seemed to give a silent testament to how Xanantos' life had changed in just a few years. Some of those great manuscripts remained, marked carefully with the passages that were inspiration for future endeavors and schemes, but now they were only a small selection among a vast array of photo albums, novels, poetry, travel-logs, personal journals, and whatever else he happened to be reading at the moment. She smiled to herself as she discovered in between a parenting manual and a book about the development of unmanned vehicles, a paperback copy of "Treasure Island" that contained a pocket in the back with a card that bore the name of his former junior high school. On the last line of the card, he'd written his own name and the number seven, indicating his grade that year, next to the stamp for a long-forgotten due date. She noted that he'd signed his name to check out the same book multiple times and the sight of his childish handwriting made her laugh out loud.

"He really ought to return this," she commented, "It's well past its due date! Imagine the fine he must have accumulated."

"What is it?" the fairy boy asked curiously as he spun slowly to a stop.

"It's just a book he read as a boy," she explained, showing him the colorful illustration of the sly-faced Long John Silver on the cover.

"That's one of his favorites," the boy told her confidently.

"How would you know?" she asked dismissively. He shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his bare feet before answering,

"It has to be, if it's on his shelf."

She nodded and said, "Well, you aren't wrong. But it seems we're chasing the wrong fox in here. This isn't where he has hidden his most valuable books. These are just the books he loves." She chuckled again as she carefully placed the dog-eared book back on the shelf.

"I wonder why he likes this one so much? I thought he loathed the very thought of boats and sailing! I supposed he liked the idea of getting away on an adventure."

"Maybe he likes the pirates?" the boy fairy suggested, and with an "Argh!," he pushed his feet off the side of the desk and propelled the armchair backward, right into an end table that held a lamp, a picture frame, a couple books, and a half-drunk mug of cold coffee that Owen had neglected to clear away. The collision knocked him from the seat of the chair onto the floor, and into the mess of spilled coffee, soaked books, and broken ceramic.

Her eyes flashed in frustration as she hurried to his side, trying to undo the damage.

"You're going to get us caught!" she snarled in a low voice that would terrify most grown men, but the child of Oberon was not troubled and replied,

"Don't be mad at me! Cleaning up messes I make so I don't get caught sneaking around is one of the first tricks I learned!" His hands began to glow as he spoke, and at his gesture, the overturned table was uprighted, the shattered mug restored and placed back on its coaster, and the wet stain disappeared from the floor, the carpet, and the book she had lifted out of the coffee puddle.

"I don't believe it!" she whispered excitedly.

"No problem!" the child replied proudly, replacing the ornately framed photograph of Xanatos' son back on the table by hand.

"No, that's not it. This book is one of the one's we're looking for!"

"Is it?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, leaning against the armchair while the child climbed onto the seat to look over her shoulder. The book opened to an entry about "halflings and their ways" and a bookmark slid out.

"Xanatos must have been reading it recently," she guessed, placing the bookmark on the end table and skimming through the pages to find the great Xarastrian's take on tricksters with healing gemstones. She read silently for some time, while the child of Oberon looked on without interrupting. After a while, she glanced up at him curiously.

"Am I going to read anything about you in this book?" she asked him.

"I don't know," he replied, "If you do, I want to hear what it says about me!"

"How will I know it's about you, since I don't know your name?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you my name," he reminded her.

"Why not? Will you lose your power if I guess your name, or will you have to grant me a wish?"

The child laughed at the suggestion.

"I don't think so!" he giggled, "You're thinking of Rumpelstiltskin!"

She gave him a theatrically suspicious look.

"Which is NOT my name, thank goodness!" he added, still laughing.

"If I were to guess correctly, would you tell me?"

"Yes," he agreed.

"Will I get a wish, if I guess right?"

"Well…" he said slowly, taking the matter seriously, "How about, if you guess right, I'll give you a prize? But I get to choose it!"

"Very well," she agreed enthusiastically and he smiled as if he thought the game would be great fun.

"Let me see your hand," she directed, and though he looked a bit confused by the request, he gave it to her. She took his hand in her claw and squeezed it firmly, then drew it gently to touch her face.

"What are you doing that for?" he asked.

"You feel warm, like flesh and blood. I've been touched by your kind before. It feels like touching ice and flame at once, and it runs through you like an electric shock. The book says that even when a shapeshifter takes a mortal form, you can still feel the energy of their pure magic when you touch them. I noticed it back on the night of the attacks when I carried you. You were warm and I could feel your heart racing. Even now, I sense the magical energy in you, but only alongside the warmth of your mortal life. You're a halfling aren't you?"

The boy nodded sheepishly.

"Is Lord Oberon your father?" she asked him.

"Of course not!" he exclaimed, "I've never even met Lord Oberon, but I sometimes think he is watching me."

"Watching you? Why? Have you seen him?"

"No," he admitted, "But I wouldn't see him unless he wanted me to."

"I suppose you wouldn't. Is that the way you watch me?"

"I could be right beside you and you wouldn't even recognize me," he boasted.

"Are you a shapeshifter?" she asked, becoming more and more interested in the game.

"Yes, but…not a very good one," he replied with a hint of self-consciousness, "At least, not yet. My teacher says I should get better as I grow."

"What sort of forms can you take?"

"Well, I can make myself look more like a human boy…and once I tried a cat…but I got stuck. My tongue was scratchy for weeks and it took forever to get rid of the tail." She laughed at his story as she leafed through page after page of tricksters that didn't seem like the one she was looking for.

"I tried to make myself into a gargoyle before I introduced myself to you," he admitted, " I thought you might like me better if I looked like a gargoyle. But I couldn't do it yet."

She glanced back up at him.

"You needn't have done that. I like you just fine," she told him and he seemed pleased, but he said, "I'm going to keep trying though. I want to be able to glide someday!"

"If I am ever allowed to glide again myself, I shall show you how. But for the moment, I have a guess."

"You think you've guessed my name already?" he asked in amazement.

"Not exactly," she replied, "But I have a theory and, if I'm right, that should make finding out your name a lot easier!"

"What is it?" he asked.

"I suspect that Puck is your father. That's how you already knew so much about me when we met. And breaking Lord Oberon's law against interfering with mortals is how Puck got in so much trouble and why he's lost his powers."

"That's actually not a bad guess," he told her, clearly impressed, "But it's not completely right. Puck definitely isn't my father. Although, messing with mortals is part of the reason he lost his powers."

"What's the other part?" she asked.

He gave her a defiant smile and said cleverly, "That's not how the game works! I said I'd tell you if you guessed right, but I'm not giving anything away!"

She scowled a bit, but went back to reading the book. An hour or so passed in near silence. His eyes had begun to show sleepiness when she suddenly said,

"I think I may have found what I was looking for!"

He leaned over her shoulder to look at the page.

"I see fairy letters written there!" he told her excitedly, pointing to the page where large, ornate symbols were carefully marked in a margin.

"Yes, but Xarastrian doesn't say in his journal what they mean or why he wrote them here. I think this is the same story I remember, though. The trickster is most commonly known as Old Felix the Healer, but has several other names as well, and even Xarastrian seems to doubt that they are all the same being. However, he does say that at least one Felix the Healer is said to live on an island that must never be approached by man, except by day. By night it is guarded by a race of nearly-invincible monsters who kill any trespassers on sight."

"Oh! They sound very mean and scary," he interrupted cheekily and she gave him a swat with her tail.

"If a man was to manage to avoid these intimidating creatures of the night, he could approach Old Felix and expect to be challenged with some sort of trial, proving his worthiness. If he could pass the trail, he would be rewarded with a powerful gem that could heal any wound or illness, even if the victim was on the brink of death."

"That sounds like it could fix the Hunter's broken spine with no problem!" he exclaimed, "Where is this island?"

"It says that some call the island Bain Felix, but it doesn't say how to find it." She examined the pages before and after the entry, but finding nothing of interest, she set the book aside and rose from the floor.

"I wonder if the other book is still here as well?" she thought out loud, "I recall there were some maps drawn in that one. Maybe Bain Felix is on it?"

As she searched, the child of Oberon picked up the journal and began to examine it carefully. He traced his fingers over each of the fairy letters in the margin, whispering to himself. She was carefully picking through some of the folders and things on Xanatos' desk, when they suddenly heard the sound of a door slam and footsteps coming quickly down the corridor. As she posed to defend herself, the young child of Oberon scampered across the floor with the book in hand and crawled quickly under the desk, pulling on her tail, urging her to join him. She ducked under the desk, just in time to hear the rattle of keys and Goliath and Lexington burst through the door.

"I know she's in here, Goliath," she heard Lexington saying, "I've got her implants tracked on my computer."

"Keep them busy," the boy whispered to her as he took a piece of his enchanted chalk and began furiously copying the fairy letters from the margin of the journal onto the chalk rectangle on the underside of the desk.

"Adelpha?" she heard Goliath call her in a voice heavy with grief, "Please, just come out." Slowly, as the child scribbled beneath the desk, she rose as commanded. Lexington looked triumphant as she emerged, but Goliath studied her with obvious sadness in his expression. Her eyes fell as soon as they met his gaze. As much as she tried to tell herself that she didn't care when she hurt him, she knew it was a lie.

"Explain yourself," he ordered. Trying to quickly fabricate something to say to him, a few believable stories came to mind, followed by a flash of rage that dispersed quickly, leaving only exhaustion behind. She felt a tug at her claw and looked down to her right to see the child of Oberon, invisible to the others in the room, gesturing toward the glowing chalk fairy letters under the desk. She decided to simply tell the truth.

"I want to be here with you," she said finally, "I do. I am grateful for what you've tried to do for me in a way that I can never really express. But I have to go. I have to stop the Hunter before he succeeds in destroying us all."

Goliath shook his head incredulously, "Even after all we've been through, you still won't trust me?"

"Can you not see? It isn't that at all! I cannot endure you looking at me that way, but neither can I leave this undone. The curse is on me. I have to be the one to break it. I must go. You must let me go."

"You aren't going anywhere," Lexington assured her.

"I am, though," she replied and with that she ducked down and disappeared under the desk, back into the black tunnel.