45. The Diagnosis
Silence.
That was all that reigned over the laboratory for a heavy while. All-consuming silence. The Huntsman, Yzma, Archibald Snatcher, Roman Torchwick, Wuya, Ayam Aghoul, Mad Madam Mim, Rémington Smisse, and Grany Smisse had started out standing in this silence, but as time passed, most gravitated to either leaning against a wall or sitting on one of the chairs or stools that served as seats for those working in the lab.
Then Mim broke it: "I'm bored."
"You would be," Yzma sighed.
"Well, he's not going to get any less of however dead he is just because we're all standing around not doing anything," Mim pointed out.
"I agree," Rémington said casually as Grany nodded.
"She has a point!" Aghoul agreed.
The rest refused to comment.
"I assume my brother and I are officially part of your alliance now," Rémington said. "I would like to be shown around our new base of operations." He looked to Mim with doe eyes. "Especially by a deliciously ugly and magical tour guide."
"Oh, stop flattering me, you," Mim replied, waving her hands to brush off the "compliment." "Just follow me, and try not to do anything stupid."
"Did you forget who you were talking to?" Grany sighed as he leapt to Rémington's shoulder. Mim marched out of the lab, skipping on every few steps, and Rémington followed gracefully, his brother perched atop him and his cape billowing behind.
Aghoul, in the meantime, summoned up a Corridor of Darkness.
"Aaaaaand where do you think YOU'RE going?" Roman asked.
"I'm helping, thank you very much," Aghoul said before disappearing into the Corridor without a trace.
The rest were downright miserable. It was easy enough for Mim and Aghoul not to grieve; it wasn't in their nature. And if you had asked, the Huntsman, Yzma, Wuya, Snatcher, and Roman wouldn't have said it was in theirs either. But it weighed on them that one of their closest friends, the founding member of their group, was leaning over the threshold of death's doorstep. And whenever it occurred to them that yet another acquaintance they were fond of, whose banter seemed to light up the room, was potentially growing close to the same fate.
It became clear after a quarter of an hour that Vexen was not coming back to brief them on the condition of either Mozenrath or Peter. "Perhaps," Snatcher suggested, "it is not in our best interest to loiter after all. Time still passes, after all. There are duties to be looked after."
"Yeah," Roman agreed. "Duties like telling Gar what happened to his boyfriend. He's not gonna take that well. It should prooooooobably be me who does it."
"Given your history," Snatcher told Roman, "that does seem most suitable."
"Vexen did mention running into some sort of trouble while we were away," Yzma added. "One of us should probably figure out what that was about."
"The others probably witnessed it," Wuya suggested. "We should ask around."
As Roman, Snatcher, Wuya, and Yzma moved to walk out of the room, the latter cast a look over her shoulder at the Huntsman, who remained propped against the wall. "And you?" Yzma asked.
"The rest of you have regular maintenance under control," the Huntsman insisted. "I shall remain here until there is news or I am needed."
"You're only going to feel worse, you know."
"That is my business and mine alone, Yzma."
"And you're not the only one who would miss him."
"I am aware, Yzma."
Yzma sighed. She knew why the Huntsman wanted to be the one who remained. She dared not accuse him of love, knowing that was the wrong label altogether, but became aware that it was best just to leave him be. "I will inform you if you are needed," she said briskly before turning and leaving.
The Huntsman didn't move a muscle. He allowed himself to wonder, ever so casually, what would become of him if Mozenrath slipped so delicately out of his life. Life would certainly go on, and he would rise from the ashes. But it would be somewhat akin to having a second shadow, he thought rather poetically. Something that would follow him, remind him of its presence, but be resistant to conversation and touch, like it wasn't really there at all.
On her way out, Yzma passed the recall crystal for Xerxes' collar lying on a side table. She hadn't yet found any evidence that Xerxes had gotten himself into irreparable mischief while his master was away, but somehow, she felt it was more than likely. She picked up the crystal, casually holding it in the air and calling out, "RETURN!"
...
"And that's why I think the oversaturation of patriarchal themes in our media has fostered an age of society that isn't as enlightened as its members seem to think it is," Ainsley was explaining. "Don't get me wrong, we've come a long way. But I still think if we really want to achieve equality, we have to admit that we're flawed and still have room to improve."
Ainsley had given Xerxes a lot to think about. He took a moment before opening his mouth. "Ford think – "
And then he disappeared.
Ainsley flinched. It took them a moment to realize that, yes, the talking eel had vanished right in front of their eyes with no explanation. Had he been a hallucination all along? The result of sleep deprivation? Or did he have his own strange way of exiting the closet that was as supernatural as his flying and speaking abilities? Ainsley didn't know. All they could muster to react to the situation was a forlorn "…Okay."
...
Xerxes popped back into the Cyclonian warship in front of Yzma. "Don't even tell me," Yzma sighed. "I do not even WANT to know what you did."
"Ford did a lot, actually," Xerxes told her.
Yzma sighed. "All right, I'll bite. Who's Ford?"
"Ford me. New name Ford."
"No, it's not," Yzma groaned as she stalked away. "You're still Xerxes."
"All right," Xerxes resolved. "Name Xerxes!" Finally, he thought, things could get back to normal.
He wondered where Mozenrath was. Yzma had left without telling him, and she hadn't seemed in the mood to speak to him. He took off to make a flight through the castle, completely overlooking the idea that Mozenrath might have been resting further back in the laboratory.
...
Out of thankfulness for those who had arrived to join the Sadida's battle against Qilby and joy that the only casualty had been the throne chamber, Oakheart pronounced a great celebratory feast for anyone within the kingdom's walls. Pandawas, people of Bonta, guards of Breta, and the military elites of New Sufokia lined up around a multitude of tables that had been situated outside, picking food out of rich buffets. One table was dedicated to elites: Oakheart, Amalia, Armand, Adal, Yugo, and Melo. Pandiego tried to talk himself into an invitation at this table, and Amalia argued in his favor, but Armand and Adal were louder about excluding him. And for all they had done to gather the armies, Sora, Ruby, Papyrus, Jasmine, and Stork were still seen as just five among the masses of heroes that day, so they were relegated to another table of their own. They had no problem with this, enjoying each other's company and the good food.
As Melo tried to convince Oakheart that making happiness mandatory was the only secret of success to a good kingdom and Adal shot Armand thinly veiled complaints about the Sadida prince's breath, Yugo and Amalia, the latter once again dressed in her best formal wear and headdress, looked over to the table of their five newest friends, who were laughing together loudly.
"Yugo!" Amalia whispered. "What do you say we ditch this table and go sit with them?"
"Sounds like fun!" Yugo whispered back.
They slowly lowered themselves beneath the table, crawling in between the legs of Oakheart, Armand, Melo, and Adal (the latter two of whom were beginning to get into a heated debate that almost seemed to concern which would be first to conquer the entire World of Twelve, hypothetically speaking, of course) and sneaking along the ground on their hands and knees.
"All right, this was a bad idea," Amalia groaned. "I'm getting my clothes all dirty! And crawling under that table messed up my hair!"
"You look fine to me," Yugo told her. It then occurred to him that perhaps now was the moment he should get his feelings off his chest. "Amalia? Before we go over to their table, can we make a detour? I…have some things I want to say to just you."
"Of course!" Amalia tilted her head toward one of the buffet tables. "Let's go under there. It isn't as though my hair can get any worse, after all."
Being beneath a buffet table with Amalia staring directly at his face in close quarters made Yugo feel more unsure about what he wanted to say. His heartbeat quickened under the circumstances, and words were hard to form. But he knew he had to say it eventually, and he'd already made her crawl all the way over to the buffet line. "Amalia," he choked out, "I just wanted to say that…well…you're one of my best friends, and I'm glad I could have this adventure with you."
"You're one of my best friends too!" Amalia said sweetly. "I'm very glad we could share this!"
"But…it's more than that," Yugo admitted. "I really like you, Amalia. As a friend…AND more. What I'm trying to say is…I have strong feelings for you. The romantic kind."
Amalia gasped. "Yugo - !"
"And I know it's foolish to think you could ever think the same about me," Yugo went on. "You're already old enough to be queen if your father abdicates and Armand doesn't take the throne, and I'm still not aging. I know I have to grow up eventually. Qilby and Grougaloragran did. But I don't know how long it will take me. The point is, even though you don't see me in the way I see you, I thought you should know how I felt. Because…I want to be your friend for a long time, no matter what, Amalia, and I didn't want any secrets like that to get between us."
"Oh, Yugo…" Amalia clasped her hands in front of her heart and smiled. "I'm very glad you were able to tell me that. And so flattered! I really wish I could say I felt the same about you, but…you are so young still. It might have been possible when we first met, but now, you are right. I just can't see you that way. I'm sorry. I would say I could maybe wait until you did grow older and see how I felt then, but without knowing how Eliatropes grow up, I don't know how long I would have to wait, and I could meet all sorts of people in between then."
"I understand," Yugo said sincerely. It did hurt to hear out loud, but it was the truth, and he knew it.
"But I do still want to be your friend if you still want to be mine," Amalia went on. "You make me so happy whenever you're around. You make me feel like I can do anything."
"And you always make me smile," Yugo replied.
"I hope you can find someone to be with in the romantic way someday," Amalia expressed. "You deserve someone very special."
"And you deserve someone truly extraordinary," Yugo said with a nod. "I hope you find your prince."
"We'll have to go to each other's weddings, then. Make sure you dress your best for mine! I'm not having a thing be out of place!" She winked.
"I will," Yugo promised. "You can dress however you want for mine."
They shared a light laugh before Yugo suggested, "Let's go and join the others now."
It was back to crawling, going unseen by all but a few very confused attendees of the feast. When they reached the table of the five, they rose up to sit down.
"AND WHEN UNDYNE LOOKED UP," Papyrus concluded, "SHE WAS SURROUNDED BY BONES! AND THAT WAS HOW I CLAIMED MY THIRTIETH VICTORY IN OUR SPARRING!" This earned him applause from the rest of the table. "OH, HI, YUGO!" he said when he realized who had arrived. "HI, AMALIA! I MUST THANK YOU FOR YOUR PART IN THROWING THIS FEAST. I THINK I'M GETTING MORE AND MORE USED TO HUMAN FOOD EVERY DAY, AND THIS IS A VERY FINE CULINARY EXAMPLE! MY BROTHER COULD REALLY LEARN FROM THIS!"
"Brothers," Amalia joked. "You always want them to learn to be better cooks, less lazy, and less rude. But they never do, do they?"
"ALL YOU CAN DO IS LOVE THEM DESPITE THEIR MANY, MANY FLAWS," Papyrus concurred.
Yugo nodded, thinking of his own brother, still carrying out his own personal business somewhere in the world where he didn't want to be found. Though he didn't say it out loud, there were many things that still stung when thinking about Adamaï, but he had to agree: he loved Adamaï anyway. "So what's next for you?" Yugo asked.
"That's what we're trying to figure out," Sora admitted. "After this feast, we actually probably have to get going."
"Already?" Amalia said mournfully.
"If Hades really thinks he left this world to get destroyed," Sora explained, "then no one from Maleficent's team OR from Mozenrath's team is going to be back for a while. If we want to stop them, we're going to have to look on another world."
"That makes sense," Yugo agreed.
"We still have no idea what he's doing," Stork pointed out, "and that scares me."
"Well, we know he's trying to kill dragons," Sora reminded him. "At least, that big scary guy with the skull helmet is. He did the same thing when Maleficent turned into a dragon back on Atmos. And that's about all anything they did have in common. That and leaving destruction wherever they go."
"It could just be random destruction," Stork suggested.
"WHAT WOULD THEY EVEN GET OUT OF RANDOM DESTRUCTION?" Papyrus asked.
"Trust me," Stork told him, "some people just want to see everything go up in flames for fun."
"Random conquest would make more sense for Mozenrath," Jasmine suggested. "That's always what he's been after. Power over other kingdoms."
"That would make sense for Snatcher, too," Sora pointed out. "After he went to all that trouble for a White Hat. What about that other guy? Ayam Aghoul?"
"Maybe he's trying to get revenge on the world for having the worst pun in existence for a name," Stork groaned.
"Remind me not to introduce you to my sister if you're not a fan of puns," Ruby muttered.
"Aghoul wants everything," Jasmine stated. "Revenge, power, destruction, and as many innocent women as he can trick into being his wives. I wouldn't be surprised by anything with him."
"Roman said, once, that he was with the people he was with because they were going to change the world and he couldn't stop them," Ruby recalled. "But now he's with a completely different group of people. I don't know what he wants when it's all up to him."
"Maybe it's not up to him," Sora suggested. "Maybe it's up to them, and he's just following along again."
"Not according to what he said on the Crimson Claws," Ruby informed him.
"So maybe it's just as easy as random conquest," Sora concluded, putting both hands behind his head and swaying slightly as he reclined.
"Then what did he want the Eliacube for?" Amalia asked.
"Well," Jasmine recalled, "back home, he would never launch an invasion without some kind of magical advantage. A wind jackal, a monster from another world, or his own personal sun. The Eliacube can definitely be that for him."
"Wait!" Ruby cried. "I just realized something!"
"What?" Sora asked.
"All the other times we ran into him or anyone he was working with," Ruby recalled, "they took something. Something big and important. Sora, you said they took the Cornerstone of Light from your friends. Qrow said they were after Dust back on Remnant. In Knightdock, Undyne said Neo took something out of the evidence room at the police station, and we guessed they were the six souls of the kids Asgore…uh…well, you know what those were. After that was Atmos, and they fought us for that big crystal and won. Then we didn't see them for a while, but now there's this with the Eliacube. That's at least five powerful things they took. Maybe they're planning to put all that power together and make some kind of super magic weapon out of it."
"That does sound like Mozenrath," Jasmine admitted.
"Putting the 'doom' back into 'doomsday device,' I guess," Stork added.
"We could ask the hourglass what he's building," Sora suggested, "but I don't think we'll get a straight answer."
"It's still worth a shot," Ruby encouraged.
"What about you?" Sora turned to Yugo and Amalia. "Do you wanna come with us? If you want a really big adventure, well, we're on one!"
"Thank you," Amalia replied, "but I think I have a little too much to take care of here. Someone has to make sure Ombrage stays locked up. And this kingdom won't run itself, you know."
"Your dad and brother will run it," Stork pointed out.
"WELL, THEY WON'T DO IT RIGHT!" Amalia yelled. "Besides, I'm a little adventured out after all that."
"And I've already been away from Papa for too long," Yugo added. "A break would be nice. But if you ever really need us, then don't be afraid to come back."
"By all means!" Amalia agreed.
"We'll keep you in our hearts," Sora promised.
"So what were you all talking about before we showed up?" Amalia asked.
"Papyrus was telling us stories from when he was training for the royal guard of his kingdom," Jasmine explained.
"That sounds like fun!" Yugo chirped. "Do you have any more?"
"AS A MATTER OF FACT, I DO!" Papyrus announced. "THIS ONE IS CALLED…'THE TALE OF THE GUARD-IN-TRAINING AND THE ANNOYING DOG WHO STOLE HIS LEFT BOOT'!"
Papyrus launched into a tale of chasing a fluffy white dog throughout the underground village of Snowdin, and laughs were had by all.
...
A loud knock rapped on the door to Garfield and Peter's apartment. Garfield, who had been watching videos on his scroll while reclining on the bed, rolled off into a standing position and made for the door.
The knocking came again, but louder. "I'm coming," Garfield groaned. "Just gimme a second, will ya?"
"Don't make me shoot through the handle," Roman's voice sounded from the other side. "Because you know I WILL do that."
Garfield swung the door open. "What's up?"
"So, uh, I don't really know how to tell you this," Roman began, looking just a little nervous, "but Peter's kind of holed up in the med bay because he got stabbed by a guy with a deadly scorpion tail. Okay, I guess that was actually really easy to tell you."
"WHAT?" Garfield replied incredulously.
"Yeah," Roman confirmed. "Vexen's not really taking visitors right now, so you're not gonna actually be able to see him, but I just thought you might wanna know – "
"I don't CARE what Vexen doesn't want me to do!" Garfield shoved Roman aside and broke into a sprint down the hall.
"Well," Roman muttered to himself, "he took that slightly better than I thought he would."
...
As Sora, Ruby, Papyrus, Stork, and Jasmine approached the great doors to the Radiant Garden castle, they were greeted by the sight of Ienzo standing atop a wobbly ladder in order to magically affix gemstones of various colors to the archway.
Stork squeaked before rushing to grasp the ladder, holding it steady. "You DO know you're not supposed to stand on the top step, right?"
"I'll be fine," Ienzo insisted. "If I fall, I can just catch myself with an Aeroga."
"What are you doing?" Ruby called up to him.
"Putting protective stones on the entryway," Ienzo answered. "We've had some trouble with intruders lately, so we're fortifying the castle's magical defenses to prevent people from getting in and out with Corridors of Darkness or other forms of teleportation. Just so you know in case you ever try to teleport in. I don't see why you of all people would, but you never know."
"What happened?" Ruby asked.
"You can ask the others," Ienzo replied. "Everyone's back to base, and they're all hanging around different parts of the castle. I believe Riku and Kairi are in the library; Jaune, Ren and Nora are exploring the lower levels; and Aladdin and Genie are helping Sadira put the hourglass together in the spare room adjacent to the chapel, since Merlin abandoned that project to help Aerith and me increase defenses. It's basically down time."
"Thanks for the news!" Sora called up to Ienzo. "Good luck with the security!"
As Sora, Papyrus, Jasmine, and Ruby strolled into the castle, Ienzo called down to Stork, "You really don't have to keep holding that ladder."
"Do you WANT head trauma from falling?"
"I'll cast Aeroga."
"IF your reflexes are that good."
Ienzo shrugged and continued to place gems.
Sora, Jasmine, Papyrus, and Ruby split up upon entry to the castle, each seeking out a different place to chill out. Sora made his way right to the library to find the other Destiny Islanders; Riku and Kairi were in heavy discussion at a table on the lower level – in soft tones, of course, since it was a library, after all.
"Hey!" Sora greeted, jogging over to the table.
"Sora!" Riku stood, opening his arms to get ready for the hug he knew was coming. Sora wrapped around him like paper on a present, delivering a kiss to Riku's lips as well. They held that stance for a good half minute before separating and taking seats at the table.
"So what were we talking about?" Sora asked.
"Something kind of serious," Riku told him. "Kairi and I both struggled a bit on our last missions when we were trying to keep the secret of where we came from."
"I didn't struggle so much," Kairi admitted, "but it sounded like Jaune really did."
"Actually, I had a bit of trouble with that myself," Sora stated. "It all got cleared up once I just…said where we were from."
"That's the funny thing," Riku went on. "The same thing happened in Kairi's case. And when my team showed Radiant Garden to the person we were traveling with, she understood immediately. So we were wondering…what if it isn't actually a big deal?"
"What's the worst that can happen if we just say where we're from?" Kairi added. "Probably that they won't believe us."
"I know there were all sorts of reasons for keeping the world order before," Sora mused, "but now that everything's growing closer together, that whole idea might be outdated. Maybe we all need to know each other is out there. I know I feel stronger knowing that I have friends on all different worlds. Maybe everyone else should get that same chance."
"Then let's do it!" Kairi insisted. "Next time, let's not hide it!"
"I still think we should be at least a little careful," Riku stated, "but I pretty much agree."
"I'm all for it!" Sora said with a nod.
"Great!" a fourth voice chimed in.
All three turned to look at who had spoken; Moana leaned out from behind a bookshelf and waved sheepishly. "Sorry," she said softly. "I was just looking around, and I didn't mean to listen in, but…I agree that the worlds should know about each other. If I'd have known all this was out here…!" She spread out her arms to indicate all of Radiant Garden.
"You haven't even seen the half of it," Riku reminded her with a smile.
Sora stood up and approached Moana. "It's nice to meet you," he said pleasantly, extending his right hand. "I'm Sora. Who are you?"
"I am Moana," she replied, putting her hand in his and shaking it firmly. "Master wayfinder of Motonui."
"She grew up on an island kind of like ours," Riku explained.
"Riku and Kairi told me the three of you were planning to build a raft to sail to faraway places," Moana informed Sora.
"Well, we kinda got our dose of adventure in a different way," Sora admitted. "What about you?"
"Sort of the same story," Moana told him. "I had always wanted to sail beyond my island's reef, but I only ever got the chance when I was called upon to basically save the world. And now I want to help you." She had told Riku and Kairi earlier, but it bore repeating to Sora: "I have heard about your quests to stop evil, and I want to become part of your team. Permanently."
"The one thing standing in her way is the people of her village," Riku pointed out, "including her family. They might find the idea of other worlds a little bit harder to understand. But we're putting together a small group to talk to them about what's going on."
"Well, welcome to the team, Moana," Sora told her. "I hope you can stay."
...
"And THEN," Ravess complained as she, Xayide, Yzma, and Wuya walked the halls of the fortress, "as if all that wasn't ENOUGH, when we got back, we discovered the real reason our home base had tried to kill Garfield."
"In his haste to collect the crystal," Xayide picked up, "Vexen left the base unguarded – "
"WELL, NOBODY ELSE VOLUNTEERED TO PICK UP THE SLACK!" Ravess barked.
"Including you," Xayide pointed out.
"We can fight about this later," Wuya hissed.
"Why do I get the feeling they're about to tell me someone else took over the base?" Yzma sighed.
"Someone else took over the base," Xayide and Ravess stated in unison.
"And his ship is still crashed into our west hangar," Ravess punctuated.
"Perfect," Yzma fumed. "Absolutely perfect! You know what? I shouldn't even be surprised! One of my best friends is dying, another fairly useful acquaintance may ALSO be dying, the ship was very nearly destroyed because it RAN OUT OF CRYSTAL, and we almost lost the entire thing to an invader whose ship put a dent in the side of our base! Go on! Tell me more good news! Did the base perhaps get caught in a meteor shower? Did one of you lose a leg in your battle and forget to tell me? Did Snipe clone himself?"
"Don't even joke," Ravess said with a shudder.
"The offender is locked up in our dungeons," Xayide explained, "if you wish to see him. At Vexen's behest, we held back from doling out any punishment until we could receive guidance from higher up the chain."
"At least tell us what kind of idiocy we're dealing with," Wuya demanded.
"He was easily captured by Vexen," Xayide described, "so obviously not very powerful. He put far too much stock into the potions he carried instead. He seemed to be trying to cut a traditional villainous figure, wearing a long black trenchcoat with a high collar. He also seemed unable to pronounce many words. He claimed his name was 'Zevon.'"
Yzma stopped midstride. "Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-ZEEEVOOOOON?" she sputtered.
"Is something wrong?" Wuya asked.
"How was it spelled?" Yzma asked, eyes wide.
"He didn't SPELL it for us, for goodness' sake!" Ravess huffed.
"You find the name familiar," Xayide realized.
"I…" Yzma faltered. It was a very common name, she realized. In all the multiverse, there had to be more than one Zevon. Hundreds. Thousands of Zevons. All the same, the name gave her pause. She had seen it a grand total of once, when she had been stitching it in pink script on the edge of a purple blanket. "I knew someone with the name, once, yes. How old was he?"
"He looked to be around thirty," Xayide answered, "but these days, one can never tell who is immortal and who is using glamour."
"Very true," Yzma agreed. Thirty. That would match. "You said he is in the prison cells below?"
"Might I ask who exactly you think he is?" Ravess asked.
"No one," Yzma said quickly. If he really was no one to her, she thought, she would rather keep this to herself. If he was the Zevon she knew, however, the truth would become more dicey. "I simply want a word with him about crashing his ship into our property."
"I'll go with you," Wuya volunteered.
"No, no!" Yzma put up both hands. "I'll take care of this on my own, thank you very much." She took a tentative step backward, then another before turning on a heel and bolting down the hallway.
"Something is suspicious with her," Ravess remarked with a raised eyebrow.
"She knows him," Xayide said with an affirmative nod.
"She'll have to come out with the truth sometime," Wuya resolved.
Yzma paused outside the door to the prison block, taking a deep breath and gathering her thoughts. Hundreds, thousands of Zevons. It could be nobody. She pried the door open and strode inside, heels clicking rhythmically across the floor, the very picture of confidence from looks alone.
He was kept in the furthest cell, where he sat on the hard wooden bench set in the wall, glaring at the iron bars that forged the front wall of his enclosure. Upon hearing the noise of Yzma's shoes, he proclaimed, "A-HA! So I get to see the face of my jailer!" He got up and rushed to the bars, gripping them as he looked out to see who approached. "You will regret the day you ever thought you could imprison ZEVON!"
He thought nothing of Yzma when he beheld her. For her, it was the opposite. When she looked at him, she saw, in almost perfect detail, the face of a man she'd known once for a week and whose name she'd never bothered to remember. So it wasn't no one after all. "I hear you attempted to take over our base," she accused, trying not to let her guard down. "Starting by wrecking your ship against it."
"I didn't mean to crash my ship!" Zevon seethed. "That was purely accidential! What I DID mean to do was acquisition your lair as my own base of operationals!"
Xayide wasn't kidding about him mispronouncing words, Yzma thought. "I just have a few questions for you," she stated coldly. "After all, I am assuming you have quite the…reputation."
"Absitively!" Zevon confirmed.
"First off," Yzma asked, "what did you say your name was, again?"
"I AM ZEVON!" Zevon proclaimed. "Feared criminal among the worlds! Up-and-coming sorcerier! Master of potions!"
"They said you came in armed with several potions," Yzma grilled. "Were you stripped of them?"
"My belt is hanging on the wall behind you," Zevon grumbled. "They took it from me when they threw me in here. They LITERALLY THREW ME."
Yzma took the belt down from the wall, looking it over. Each potion on the belt was labeled with a piece of tape bearing a different word, such as "Shrink!", "Reverse!", or "EXPLOSIONATE!"
"An impressive array of effects, provided they all work," Yzma commented as she reverently hung the belt back up.
"Oh, they all work," Zevon assured her. "I've tested them."
"Now, for the real question," Yzma said. "Who are you?"
"I told you!" Zevon declared. "I am ZEVON – "
"Yes, yes, I got that part. But how did you get here? Where did you come from? What is your goal?"
"Ah, I see!" Zevon realized. "You want my life story! Well, settle back and prepare to be dazzle-razzled!" He stepped back from the bars in order to better use his arms to gesture throughout his story. "I came from very humble origenesis," he began. "I was found left on the doorstep of a well-meaning couple of villagers, with nothing but the basket I was tucked in and a purple blanket wrapped around me with my name on it. The couple who took me in tried to raise me right and teach me moralities. But what they didn't know is I WAS DESTINED TO BE BAD TO THE BONE!
"I began to study the dark arts in secret! I had no magical abilifiers, but I quickly took to potionmaking. And I excellerated! Soon, I grew powerful enough to transformgure both of my parents into a filthy rat and a lumpy toad! Leaving them behind, I set out to make my way in the world!
"But as it turned out, my destiny was not limitationed to a single world! No! In my studies, I came across arcanate lore that spoke of transportalation between different worlds! Especially plants that bore 'magic beans' that allowed for passablage between the worlds once and only once! I acquisitioned five beans through heavy bartrading and distilled them into five potions that would let me cross from world to world. Drinking the first, I took my first step into the unknown." Zevon paused a moment to recollect his trip into the dimension populated by horrific beings of geometric shapes and conglomerate body parts, presided over by a loudmouthed dictator shaped like a one-eyed triangle. "It…could have gone better.
"But as I broadened the scope of my travels, so did I broaden the scope of my evil! I wreakaged havoc on many worlds, learning new potions as I went along! True, I never actually conquestered anything, and the fame I gained was fleeting, mostly getting me known as 'that trenchcoat guy,' but I left a MARK as I tried!
"And that brings us to today," Zevon concluded. "It is only a matter of time before I find my way out of your cell. I've broken out of tough prisons before! And I'll do it again! And when I do, you will all be sorry that you messed with ZEVON!"
He waited for Yzma to respond. She didn't. She simply stared at him, bug-eyed. "I see my story has impressioned you," he boasted. "You are no doubt enthrused by my resume (which he pronounced "re-zoom")."
Yzma shook her head to clear it. "I can assure you," she stated, trying to keep her voice calm, "that isn't it. You see, there is a bit of a…complication here. Your homeworld…that would be what they refer to colloquially as the 'Empire of the Sun,' is it not?"
"Hey!" Zevon barked. "How did you know that?"
"Well, you see…"
She remembered laying the basket down, telling the infant inside to be quiet or else, turning and fleeing into the night.
"…You're my son," Yzma confessed.
Neither spoke for a while. Then Zevon broke out into laughter. "I see your little trick!" he accused. "You're trying to get me to trust you with outlanding claims!"
"Your name was stitched into the blanket with pink thread," Yzma deadpanned. "You have a near-elliptical birthmark on your stomach, and the basket was also bright purple. I know, because I'm the one who put you in it, and I'm the one who put your name on the blanket."
Zevon gaped. "You…are either psychical, or you really are my mom."
"My name is Yzma," Yzma introduced. "Thirtyish years ago, I was rising in the ranks of the palace staff of the Empire. Where once I had a slew of men and women trying to break down my door to spend the night with me – "
"Ewwwww." Zevon shuddered.
" – Things had considerably slowed down in that department," Yzma went on. "You were the product of a night with a man who I knew for a week and never bothered to contact again afterward. And you were…shall we say…an accident."
"Is there a reason you're telling me the story of my concepting?" Zevon rolled his eyes.
"Well, it's because – I mean – I didn't want to deal with a child, you know!" Yzma sputtered. "Changing diapers, being thrown up on, having to sing cheerful little songs about talking animals and the alphabet!"
"Who DOES want to deal with that?" Zevon agreed.
"But after letting you fester within me for nine months, I couldn't just – I mean, I thought about it, because I'd already learned that murder is a time-efficient way to solve problems – but I couldn't! You know!"
"So what you're saying," Zevon realized, "is that you abandonated me because you never wanted me but you couldn't bring yourself to do me in."
"It was nothing personal," Yzma said dryly. Then, with a shrug, "I'm actually somewhat proud. You've managed to become an ineffectual villain, but an ambitious one at least, and can I really ask for much more than that?"
"You, too, are familiar with the schematics of evil!" Zevon realized. "You are one of the villains who occupate this base!"
"That I am!" Yzma confirmed. "I am part of the WHAM ARMY!"
"The what army?"
"It's an acronym of the first letters of the founding members," Yzma sighed. "We are an organization dedicated to conquest and other various evils! Much like you, we have not yet conquered any territory that we've actually been able to KEEP, but we've wreaked enough havoc to be memorable at least. Plus, we throw a killer karaoke night. And I too am versed in the art of brewing potions, though mine are usually geared toward transfiguration."
"I turned out strangely same-ilar to you!" Zevon realized. "I, too, love karaoke!"
"You never needed me!" Yzma crowed. "You grew up perfectly evil all on your own!"
"If you're expecting me to be mad that you abandonated me," Zevon told her, "I'm honestly not. As you've pointed out, I never needed you. And admittancely, I would have done the same thing in your shoes that you did to me."
Yzma gave him a sarcastic glare. "If you ever became pregnant with a child."
"Yes! I mean no!"
"So," Yzma told him, "you and I…we're good." She waved her hand back and forth between them.
"We're very good," Zevon promised. "Aside from the fact that your friends are still holding me captive."
"How good did you say your conquest record was again?"
"I don't have one. But that is subjective to change!"
"Consider this," Yzma proposed, holding up her hands with palms flat out toward Zevon. "You and I join forces. You become part of my syndicate: the WHAM ARMY. Together, we can combine our forces of alchemy and potionmaking and our ambitions of conquest and destruction and become a force the WORLDS WILL FEAR!"
"I like the sounds of this!" Zevon admitted. "Perhaps it was fate that led me to crash into your fortress!"
"Of course, there is one condition," Yzma informed him. "If we're going to make this work, you're not allowed to try and get revenge on anyone who put you in here."
"Not even the loudmouth with the ice?" Zevon groaned.
"Not even the loudmouth with the ice," Yzma reiterated.
"Not even the big purple-haired one who THREW ME?"
"Not even the – " Yzma stopped herself. "Well, actually, Snipe is fair game. But NO ONE ELSE!"
Zevon reached his hand through the bars. "Then you have a deal, Mother!"
"Mother," Yzma repeated. "So long as you're not screaming for me to come check under your bed for monsters, I could get used to the sound of that."
She clasped his hand firmly.
...
Tyrian kicked, hissed, and spat as Hades dragged him back into the halls of Villain's Vale and ultimately threw him on his back on the floor. The Corridor behind them closed for good, and Tyrian tried in vain to leap up and claw at the air, hyperventilating.
"No," he muttered. "No, no, no, no, no…" He slowly turned to face Hades. "You," he growled. "You RUINED MY CHANCE TO CAPTURE THE GIRL WITH THE SILVER EYES!"
Tyrian lunged; Hades stood stock-still. Tyrian's stinger plunged deep into Hades' chest, to which Hades rolled his eyes. "You think POISON is gonna work on the lord of the DEAD?" the god scoffed. "I drink this stuff with breakfast."
Tyrian gave a wordless snarl as he withdrew the stinger.
"What is your DEAL with the silver-eyed girl?" Hades asked. "Did she eat your last cricket or something?"
"You don't understand," Tyrian whined. "My goddess instructed us all to find the silver-eyed girl and capture her on sight. Those eyes make her terribly powerful. Enough to defeat half this fortress in a single fell swoop."
"Given our track record against her," Hades pointed out, "I'm gonna have to say that's a no."
"My goddess wanted her brought back alive," Tyrian moaned. "There's still time! We can go back and find her!"
"There isn't time," Qilby chimed in. "The World of Twelve is soon to be nothing."
"But…if I don't bring her back…" Tyrian whimpered.
"I don't get you, y'know that?" Hades sighed. "You went into this whole mission to kill Mozzy. And you figured out how to do exactly that. I thought you'd be happy. And now you're having a panic attack over some kid with freaky eyes who we have seen do the exact OPPOSITE of wipe out half our forces at once MULTIPLE times. Can we focus on what matters here?"
"SHE MATTERS MORE!" Tyrian screamed. "SHE MATTERS MORE BECAUSE MY GODDESS ORDERED HER ALIVE!"
"And another thing," Hades huffed. "Stop referring to your obviously mortal boss as your 'goddess' to my face. Do you even know how demeaning that is?"
"She is so much more than mortal," Tyrian said wistfully, a smile crawling over his face as he thought of her.
"I doubt it," Hades said dismissively. "What is she, the scorpion queen? Y'know what? I'd actually like to size her up. Show me this 'goddess' of yours. Prove to me that she's really THAT powerful and THAT worth throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old over."
"I'd do so gladly, but I would prefer to speak to your leader first."
The voice came from behind Hades and Qilby; Tyrian gasped, his heart nearly stopping. All turned their attentions to the source of the voice. Hades and Qilby didn't know what to make of it at first. A black sphere hovered in the midst of the corridor, and it might have been mistaken for glass if not for the six ropy red tentacles that dangled from its lower half, twitching and proving signs of life.
"Come closer," the sphere beckoned with a deep, feminine voice. "I promise it won't bite."
"MY GODDESS!" Tyrian took several clumsy steps toward the sphere, falling on his knees before it. "I can't apologize enough. The silver-eyed girl was there, in my grasp…but…but now you won't have to worry about her anymore! She is dead! There is no way she cannot be!"
"Enough, Tyrian," the female voice commanded.
Another voice came from the sphere, this one male and lilting: "You see, this is why you never send an amateur to do a professional's job."
A deep male voice: "Don't patronize Tyrian. Infighting is the last thing we need."
"What the me?" Hades cautiously stepped closer to the sphere; Qilby followed gingerly. As Hades neared, he could see the face of a woman filling the interior of the sphere. She was pale as snow, with jet-black markings on her face reminiscent of veins. Her hair, the same hue as her face, was swept back into an enormous bun. Her eyes were dark throughout: the whites were black, and the irises slightly brighter, reddish.
"This is merely a communication device," the woman stated, guessing at Hades' train of thought. "Not my true form. At the moment, I am worlds away. It had been a while since I dispatched Tyrian, and I decided it was time to check on the situation myself."
"And yet you're apparently too much of a VIP to appear in person," Hades scoffed.
"It's more that I'm very busy with plans regarding my own world," the woman explained. "Though, depending on what Tyrian has to report, that may change. Or perhaps you can explain to me what has transpired since last I saw Cinder Fall."
"She has been working with these…these monstrous geniuses," Tyrian babbled. "They all act under the orders of one called 'Maleficent.'" He giggled. "Cinder has even found a very close companion, my goddess. A paramour, if I'm not mistaken."
"Interesting," the woman replied, a calm smile upon her face. "I should like to know more. Would I be able to meet with this 'Maleficent'?"
"Malef runs on a tight schedule, babe," Hades informed the woman. "Buuuuuuut given just how bizarre this whole deal is, I think she just might be able to squeeze you in. You're connected to that whole relic-season-maiden business, right? Because Malef is considering putting stock in that."
"All the more reason I should speak with her," the woman stated.
"WE should speak with her," the lilting male voice corrected.
"That is right," the woman confirmed. "I am here with two of my companions. I have told the third to wait in his quarters until summoned, but perhaps he should be privy to this, given his history with Cinder."
"That lowlife ruffian?" the lilting male voice asked.
"He has potential," the deep voice grumbled. "But not yet our trust."
"Before this goes any further," Hades said, "I'm gonna need us to be on a first-name basis. Name's Hades. Lord of the Dead."
"An impressive title," the woman stated. "Perhaps there is even more to the ranks of this Maleficent than meet the eye."
"Anyway, this guy lookin' over my shoulder is Qilby," Hades went on. "That should do it for who's here. Now it's your turn."
"My name is Salem," the woman stated. "Currently seated beside me are my companions, Arthur Watts and Hazel Rainart."
The image inside the globe shifted momentarily, depicting a man with a thin, mustachioed face and close-cropped dark hair. "I must say, you cut a FASCINATING figure," the man with the lilting voice observed. "This intrigue grows deeper by the minute."
"Enough, Arthur," Salem commanded, and the globe's focus was brought back to her. "Also living within our quarters is one Mercury Black…shall we say a friend of Cinder's? He and Cinder used to travel with a third, but she has not shown her face since the fall of Vale. Victory seems to bring out the true nature of cowards. We have other ties that run deep through the veins of Remnant, which we will disclose should they become relevant. Is that satisfying enough for you?"
"It's a start," Hades replied. "Anyway, a deal's a deal. I'll let you meet the boss. Maybe, just maybe, we can all come to an arrangement or two."
"And what of me?" Tyrian asked meekly. "Do you wish me to return to Remnant?"
"Not yet," Salem stated. "I will decide where best you suit our plans once I have discussed matters with your new benefactor."
"Yes, my goddess," Tyrian said with a bowed head.
As Hades led the globe, which Salem informed him on the journey was known as a "Seer," toward Maleficent's current whereabouts, Qilby strode along out of sheer curiosity, and Tyrian picked himself up off the floor to trot along like an obedient dog.
...
Vexen gently withdrew a syringe from Peter's upper arm, placing a hand to hold him still. The venom was setting into Peter's system, and he had become detached from reality, muttering strange things while his eyes were closed. Vexen had taken the liberty of removing his torn suit in order to better examine him and draw blood from his bare skin, as well as apply a bandage to the wound itself; the scientist clicked his tongue at the sight of the thin man stripped down to only his undergarments, wondering how he kept himself alive with such little meat on his bones. Thankfully, Peter hadn't flinched or flailed while the needle had been inserted, but as soon as it was removed, he turned rapidly onto his side and curled up, saying "You'd think he's useful, but no, he's just Killer Moth" in a slurred tone.
Vexen held the syringe up to the light. Already, it bore bad news. The blood he'd drawn had a distinct plum-colored hue to it. "How much venom did you TAKE?" he barked, knowing not to expect a straight answer.
After a mild coughing fit, Peter told him, "If you're not going to eat that, I will."
At least, Vexen thought, it was better than dealing with the other patient. Mozenrath was fast asleep, drained of energy. He was still alive; Vexen had been able to detect a heartbeat, and he checked every so often to make sure air was respiring through the sorcerer's nostrils. But Vexen had also been able to ascertain most of the details of his condition, and he already knew disclosing them to the other core members of the WHAM ARMY would be a difficult affair – not due to any reluctance on his part to spit it out, but rather his unwillingness to weather their reactions. The Huntsman was still somewhere in the laboratory, imposing like a cobweb but refusing to simply be brushed away, and Vexen knew he wanted answers.
Venom, on the other hand, was something that could be countered – provided Vexen had the right ingredients. He already formulated a list of possibilities in his mind of the materials he might need, and he was lacking in one crucial component. If the venom was any less potent, he thought, he might have been able to get by, but this would require him to go out of his way to acquire it.
As he emptied the contents of the syringe into a flask, he became alerted to the sound of angrily storming footsteps headed in his direction. Not the Huntsman, he thought in aggravation.
He got what he wanted in one respect: it wasn't the Huntsman.
"WHAT HAPPENED?" Garfield growled as he stormed into the medical bay.
"What is happening is that I am in the midst of a very delicate process," Vexen stated, "and I will not tolerate interruption."
That line hadn't worked on Ansem's staff, it hadn't worked on Organization XIII, and any hope Vexen had that it would work on Garfield Lynns was quickly dashed. "Where is he?" Garfield asked, less forcefully due to the panic creeping into his voice.
His question was answered when Peter decided to declare that "I could double my net worth with those emeralds, you know."
"PETER!" Garfield bypassed Mozenrath completely (just as well, Vexen thought, as he wasn't yet ready to answer questions about him) to stand over Peter's bedside, where he stared down in shock at the delirious contortionist. "Tell me you're okay. PLEASE tell me you're okay."
"No, no, I said with twists, not on ice," Peter muttered. "Do I look like Mr. Freeze to you?"
"Don't bother," Vexen advised. "He's all but catatonic. You won't be able to have a decent conversation with him whatsoever."
Vexen was suddenly caught off guard by Garfield seizing him, turning him around, gripping him by the shoulders, and slamming him up against the wall. "YOU BETTER FIX HIM," Garfield threatened, glaring up at the much taller scientist. "Or you're gonna learn what it feels like to combust from the inside out."
"Believe it or not," Vexen replied casually, "I already know the feeling."
The two remained in stalemate until Vexen said, "For goodness' sake, I'm doing my best to cure him! Do you think I want my record besmirched by letting a simple venom case perish? I cannot, however, work toward that goal unless you allow me to do so!"
Garfield let Vexen go and backed off; Vexen could tell he was in no mood to apologize, and he frankly didn't care to hear an apology anyway. As Vexen returned to the plum-colored blood sloshing around in its flask, Garfield returned to Peter's side, taking the thin man's hand into both of his own and clasping it tightly. "You're gonna be okay," Garfield said softly. "I'll make sure you are."
"I have…something important to tell you," Peter said loudly and clearly.
"Yeah?" Garfield replied, wondering if Peter had regained clarity of his surroundings, even just a little. "What?"
"I'm in love with Firefly," Peter stated. "I have been for the past year. He doesn't know, so don't tell him. Shhhhh!"
Garfield choked back a laugh. "Okay. I won't say a word."
"WILL you leave me to work in peace?" Vexen snapped. "His muttering is distracting enough! I don't need your chatter!"
Before Garfield could argue, a Corridor briefly opened up in the area, long enough for Aghoul to step out of it, proudly holding high a bundle of white. "Voilà!"
"And what do you expect me to do with that?" Vexen sighed.
"It's spider silk," Aghoul explained. "Taken from a reasonable colony of giant spiders I knew back in the Seven Deserts."
"Y'know, I've pulled off some intense heists," Garfield commented, "but I think robbing giant spiders is where I draw the line."
"I didn't ROB them!" Aghoul snapped, offended. "I left them plenty of bugs to eat to regain their strength and spin more webs in exchange! What kind of boor do you think I am?"
"Are you even serious?" Garfield replied. "You're cool with mass murder, thievery, literally robbing graves, and kidnapping wives. But you get a conscience when it comes to SPIDERS."
"I've given up trying to explain any of their behaviors," Vexen sighed. "Truly, I have. Now, Aghoul, do you mind telling me WHY you have brought so much spider silk here?"
"For bandages, of course!" Aghoul explained. "They work much better than cloth! Especially where magic is involved."
"Hmm," Vexen recalled. "I do remember several medical texts stating the benefits of using spider silk as a natural bandage in place of gauze. Perhaps there is merit to it. I will forgive your intrusion so long as I can use the silk."
"What did you expect ME to use it for?" Aghoul asked as he plopped the bundle onto the table. "I don't even have blood!"
"Now, if you would simply leave me alone," Vexen sighed, "I can proceed with treatment. Or does anyone else wish to get in the way of my work?"
"How's the patient?" Rémington asked as he casually strode into the room.
"Why did I even say anything?" Vexen moaned to himself.
Rémington stopped over Peter's bed. "This doesn't look good."
"We are aware," Vexen huffed.
"Since when do you care?" Aghoul asked. "You're the one who wanted to leave him behind in the Corridor when he dropped."
"You wanted to WHAT?" Garfield glared at Rémington with fire in his eyes.
"I did what now?" Rémington said nervously, holding up both hands, palms outward. "I never said any such thing! You're misremembering! But if I did, it was only because I thought he was already literal dead weight. He's still some of the best company I've ever met. 'Thick as thieves,' they say." He turned to Vexen. "So, is he going to die, or – "
"If I give you a status report on Merkel," Vexen seethed, "will you all LEAVE ME ALONE?"
"Yes," Garfield, Aghoul, and Rémington said as one.
"Very well," Vexen sighed. "The venom was quick-acting after the initial strike, but its effects seem to have leveled out. I have only very preliminary readings to go on, but I fear much of Merkel's bloodstream has been infected. Yet his vital signs have shown a relatively slight decline. He has hours yet before there is any cause to worry. I still have yet to determine the exact composition of the venom that is coursing through his veins. I have on hand many of the materials required to combat simpler poisons. In the worst case, however, I would be in need of psyllium, which I am dangerously low on, and I would need to leave in order to obtain enough for a suitable poultice. I will know whether or not the psyllium is required after I have finished testing the venom, which I have yet to do thanks to constant interruptions. That is as much as I can tell you. Now, uphold your end of the bargain and LEAVE."
"At once," Aghoul said as Rémington nodded. As the two turned away, they found they had to take hold of Garfield's arms and somewhat drag him out of the bay.
On the way, Garfield finally noticed Mozenrath. "Whoa. What happened to HIM?"
"I'll explain on the way out," Aghoul promised.
The trio passed the Huntsman, still leaning against the wall. "Are you, uh…going to stay there all day?" Aghoul asked.
"I will leave when I am ready to leave," the Huntsman grunted.
"Suit yourself," Aghoul said with a shrug. "So," he said to Garfield, "about Mozenrath…"
As Aghoul and Garfield busied themselves with that conversation, Rémington slipped away. He reached into the folds of his clothing, wrapping his fingers around a small, hard item.
He had been awakened to the idea of inter-world travel a while back; the Ecaflip Ush had called him for several assignments, hoping to make use of his talents to thieve for Ush's personal gain, and thus brought him to the Ecaflip Dimension and opened his eyes to all that existed outside the World of Twelve. Since then, he had sought out other passageways to the multitude of worlds, bringing Grany on his escapades in search of a lucrative way to profit from the travel between them.
And he had found it. There were some very obvious reasons he hadn't mentioned it to the WHAM ARMY at all. All the same, he thought, there was no reason he couldn't continue it and still be part of the WHAM ARMY.
There wasn't enough time to take a Gummi Ship out to the place he needed to be. But on one of his last trips to work his side job, he had obtained a quite useful item: a bag of magic beans. Each bean would only work for one trip. He had in his hand the one that would get him where he needed to go, and he could easily dig up one for the return trip.
There was no time to find Grany. He would have to make this trip alone. He sought seclusion so that he could activate the bean.
...
It was cleanup time among the shelves of the Liminal Space. Terminus delicately worked a feather duster among the smaller items of his inventory while Hoagy swept up and down each aisle with a broom. Earlier, Harley had joined them to do a bit of window-washing for the façade.
"That Harley sure is a sweet girl," Hoagy remarked. "Nice of her to help us out with this."
"It makes you wonder what she's even doing here, doesn't it?" Terminus pointed out. "She's TOO nice. Why would Maleficent even let her stay around?"
"Maybe she's got a dark side," Hoagy suggested. "We don't know her that well. Maybe we actually oughta be careful around her."
"Careful, schmareful," Terminus brushed off. "What could a girl like that possibly be hiding? That she can turn into a dragon or some nonsense?"
"Well, actually, I've heard that MALEFICENT can turn into a – "
Both men were suddenly alerted by the jingle of the door's bell. They looked to see if a customer had entered, but instead, they were greeted by the sight of the shop's most productive supplier: the one who had brought such goodies as the shipment of Magiswords, which sold like hotcakes.
"Mr. Smisse!" Terminus greeted as he stowed the feather duster behind a row of shelved product. "Good to see you again!" He approached Rémington with a smile. "Brought anything particularly special for us today?"
"Actually, I'm here to buy," Rémington said coldly.
"…I sense you're not in a good mood," Terminus observed.
"I need to make this quick," Rémington insisted. "I need psyllium. And I mean the real stuff. Not any of your quack medicine."
"For you, of course!" Terminus agreed. "That is, assuming you can pay for it."
Rémington withdrew another treasure he'd been hiding from the WHAM ARMY from within his pockets: the heart made of ogrine that the Archmage had so disrespectfully tossed them as a consolation prize. Aghoul wouldn't go looking for it again after dismissing it as so useless, Rémington figured. "This should suffice."
Terminus swiped the heart into his hands, admiring its gleam. "I should say it does!" he said happily before taking a detour into the correct aisle for remedies that actually worked.
"Whatcha need psyllium for?" Hoagy asked as Rémington tapped his foot.
"That's not your business," Rémington stated.
Terminus returned with a moderately sized jar packed with brown flakes. "As promised," he said as he handed it over. "And are you SURE you have nothing to bring in to us today?"
"If I had something," Rémington deadpanned, "I would have brought it."
"When do you think you might have something next, hm?"
"Trust me," Rémington said, "I've just come into a position where I'm about to have access to some very delicious finds. You should be seeing the rewards soon enough."
On that note, he turned and stalked out of the shop, fishing through his pockets for another bean.
...
Vexen sighed as he lowered the flask of the venom he'd managed to examine. He would need psyllium after all. The problem was where to obtain it.
As he calculated where the best world would be to cast his Corridor, he was startled by a finger tapping his shoulder. After he flinched from the surge of adrenaline, he slowly turned to regard the offender with a glare. It was true that he didn't feel true anger. However, he found that in the absence of his heart, he was often driven to noticing the situations where the trappings of anger were fitting to wear.
Before he could yell at Rémington for disturbing him, his eyes locked onto the jar in Rémington's hands. "Psyllium," the rogue said simply, shoving the jar at Vexen.
"From the sounds of it," Vexen told him, "I didn't think you cared whether Merkel lived or died."
Rémington shrugged. "Like I said. He's good company." He then took his leave without Vexen having to egg him on further.
Vexen unscrewed the jar's lid, taking a whiff. It seemed to be what he needed. He edged a flake under a microscope; it was true psyllium. Good, he thought. He could begin making a charcoal poultice immediately and bind it on with the spider silk Aghoul had brought. That would take care of Peter.
Then, unfortunately, he would have to turn his attentions to Mozenrath. That would be a far less pleasant affair.
...
Tui trusted his daughter with whatever undertaking she had crossed the oceans for. That didn't mean he didn't spend at least some time every day of her absence worrying for her. He knew she was capable of taking care of herself, but he was also aware that sometimes, forces outside of one's control could bring down even the strongest and the bravest.
It was a sudden ray of light breaking through the clouds of the sky to hear her voice calling out: "Dad! DAD!"
"Moana!" Tui turned to see her rushing to him at full speed. He was surprised to see the company that followed behind her. Sora, Riku, Kairi, Cid, Merlin, and Leon all approached from some distance back.
"Dad, you won't believe it!" Moana gushed when she got within a distance where yelling was not necessary. "There's even more out there than we thought! There are whole other WORLDS out there beyond this one! On the other side of the stars!"
Tui frowned. "Moana, where did you hear this?"
"I didn't HEAR it, Dad! I saw it for myself!"
"Saw it for yourself?" Tui repeated.
The others had caught up by that time, letting Leon take the lead. "Chief Tui," he greeted.
"It is…good to meet you," Tui told him tentatively. "I see my daughter has already introduced me. What is your name?"
"Leon," Leon answered. "I think there's something we need to discuss."
"And I suppose it has to do with these tales my daughter is telling me of other worlds," Tui said dryly.
"That's exactly what we need to talk about," Leon stated. "You may want to come with us to see things for yourself."
"Come with you?" Tui asked.
"Just for a short while," Leon promised. "Then we can bring you right back."
"But where do you intend to take me?"
Merlin flicked his wand. "To another world, of course!"
...
Ainsley was half asleep by the time Oscar and his tech crew had located the closet and moved the heavy shelf out of the way. As Oscar pried the squeaky door open, he sighed with relief. "THERE you are," he breathed. "How did you get down here anyway?"
Bringing up Ellington would involve bringing up the reason Ainsley had followed her in the first place. "I got lost," Ainsley said plainly.
"Lost. In a broom closet in the basement, with a heavy shelf barricading the door."
"I got REALLY lost."
"Did…Elizabeth do this?" Oscar asked in suspicion.
"No," Ainsley replied, once again to deflect any thoughts that they were involved in something unsavory by being her target.
"Anyway, we're all waiting on your audition," Oscar stated. "So you might want to come out of the closet."
"Actually, I've been out as nonbinary since I was seven."
It took half a minute of silence.
"Oh," Ainsley realized. "You mean the literal broom closet. That makes more sense." They shuffled into a standing position.
As the crew walked out of the prop room, Oscar's foot landed on something hard that had been dislodged when Ellington moved the shelf. He looked down to see the damage he had caused to whatever prop it had ended up being. What he saw was a sparkling blue crystal, vaguely star-shaped, with crooked metal forging one of its points. It wasn't one of his props. He had no idea what it would even be used for. He quickly bent, scooped it up, offering it to Ainsley; "I think you might have dropped this."
Ainsley knew they hadn't dropped it. It first crossed their mind that it was something valuable, and therefore something Olaf would want. That was, initially, why they said, "Yeah, that's mine," and stuffed it deep into their pocket.
However, the more they thought about it, the more they felt the whole day had been unfair. Ellington had gotten away. Ainsley wasn't even sure what side of the schism she was on, but either way, Ainsley knew they were supposed to have intercepted whatever she was doing with that book. Now Olaf would find out, and Ainsley would be the victim of an unfitting punishment. Maybe next time, the troupe's car would simply drive off without them, and they would have to walk to the next site of Olaf's schemes. And on top of all that, they had just spent an hour locked in a broom closet. They felt perhaps they just deserved a little something all to themselves for that trouble. No, the star shard didn't belong to them, but were they not a villain, technically? Ainsley decided to hold onto the shard and not tell Olaf about it. It sparkled delightfully, and perhaps Ainsley could trade it in for a good sum of money when left unsupervised next.
With that decision made, Ainsley returned to the stage to finish out the audition for a play they would actually get cast in but have to eventually quit in order to follow Olaf to the site of his next plot.
...
Tui and his wife Sina were given a grand tour of the Radiant Garden castle. Moana excitedly pointed out landmark after landmark: the library, the kitchen, the snake's-head fountain. On the way, Leon, Cid, and Merlin took turns explaining the situation to Moana's parents.
They ended up back in the library, where it seemed most important business meetings were destined in the castle. "And that's what your daughter wants to help us do," Leon concluded as they settled around a table.
"Moana?" Sina looked to her daughter. "Is this true? You want to stay here?"
"Yes!" Moana insisted. "Well, not just stay here. Travel all the worlds. Help people who need me. I'll come back and visit often. After all, I know Motonui needs me too, and I want to be there for them when they do. But so many more people out there need help, and this is my big chance to learn what's out here beyond the stars of our world!"
"I don't like the sound of any of this," Tui confessed. "It sounds as though there are great dangers involved."
"I've faced plenty of great dangers!" Moana reminded him. "I survived Lalotai, remember?"
"That is true," Tui sighed. "Which is why I will say it again. I may not like the idea of you running off to this place and wherever else lies beyond. But if it is what you wish to do…I will trust you." He looked around at Leon, Cid, Merlin, Sora, Kairi, and Riku. "I do not know your companions well, but they seem kind."
"If you can say something like that," Merlin huffed, "then you DEFINITELY are not well-acquainted with Cid Highwind."
"Like you're Mr. Nice Guy," Cid shot back. "Always bringin' me down."
"I promise everyone else associated with the Committee knows how to behave," Kairi stated with a slight laugh.
"You may stay," Tui told Moana. "But you must return at least once per turn of the moon."
"It will take but a moment to discern how your calendar equates to ours," Merlin promised.
"I'm proud of you for everything you're facing," Sina added. "I just want you to stay safe. But I know what you feel like you have to do."
"Nothing will get better if we all stay where it's safe," Moana urged.
"We'll miss you," Sina said sincerely.
"And I'll miss you too," Moana replied.
"With that cleared up," Merlin decided, "we shan't keep you any longer than necessary, Chief Tui and Lady Sina. Now, while it is still technically possible to enter and exit the castle through teleportation, we are working on security measures that would make such things impossible, so we had best step outside before we depart. Get in the habit, you know?" He stood up and marched toward the exit. "Right this way, right this way!"
As Tui, Sina, Cid, Sora, and Riku followed, Leon stated, "I'll be along in a minute. I want a word with Kairi first."
Kairi waited until the others had left before asking Leon, "Why do you want to talk to me?"
"So far, the Committee has been acting under the assumption that I'm more or less its leader," Leon stated, "with Cid and Merlin close behind. But we are above all else the Radiant Garden Restoration Committee, and you are the princess of Radiant Garden by blood. Technically, you're the one who leads the Committee."
"But I'm almost never here," Kairi protested. "You know what goes on here a lot better than I do."
"But you know how to talk to people better than I do," Leon told her. "And don't tell Cid or Merlin this, but it isn't hard to be a better diplomat than either of them. I want you to start taking over some of the meetings we have with outsiders. With our growing influence, I have a feeling there are a lot of these meetings yet to come."
"I don't know if I can be a representative for all of Radiant Garden," Kairi protested. "The Committee, the kingdom, and the people working together to protect the worlds right now. It's a lot."
"It is a lot," Leon told her. "And it won't be easy. But I know you're capable of doing challenging things." He flashed her a slight smile. "At least think about it."
"Okay," Kairi promised.
They exited the grounds just in time to see Moana hug both Tui and Sina goodbye before Merlin transported them and himself back to Motonui. Moana then turned excitedly to Riku; "So! What happens now?"
As if on cue, Sadira came bolting out the front doors. "Hey, everyone!" she called out. "Guess what's finished!"
"The hourglass!" Sora realized.
Sadira turned to Kairi. "That crystal you brought back? It was perfect. Now we should be able to ask it anything we want."
"And I know I've got some questions!" Sora stated.
"We should wait for Merlin," Riku advised. "He was the only one who was able to decode the answers from the hourglass in Agrabah."
"Right!" Sora agreed.
Once Merlin had returned, Sadira rounded up the entire gang to bring them to the upper room of the castle, adjacent to the chapel; Sora recognized it as where he had first fought Maleficent in her dragon form. An enormous hourglass dominated the room now, stretching up to the ceiling, with its bottom bulb positioned to be easy to view. The pillars that kept it in place curved together at the top to position the Balmeran crystal above it.
"Zap it with some lightning," Sadira announced, "and the sands of the future are now open for business!"
Sora, Riku, and Kairi raised their blades in unison, calling out, "THUNDER!"
As the lightning struck the crystal, the sands within the bulb of the hourglass began to whip rapidly about in a cyclone pattern.
Sadira nudged Sora. "Well? You said you had questions!"
"All right!" Sora stepped forward, asking loudly and clearly, "What is Mozenrath trying to make out of the magical stuff we've seen him take?"
The sands bulged and writhed, and the bulb became filled with pure blackness. It took a moment before Sora realized that was the only answer he was going to get.
"It's…nothing," Sora observed. "What does THAT mean?"
"Why, it could mean any number of things," Merlin stated. "Sand divination is not an exact science. It could mean that there is no functional goal to the items Mozenrath is taking, and they are simply unrelated. Or it could mean that combined, the items will result in the destruction of a world, and this is a view of the aftermath."
"Kinda hoping it's that first one," Aladdin admitted.
"Okay," Sora said, "next question. Where is Mozenrath headed next?"
Color erupted from the center of the blackness, beginning to form shapes and symbols.
"Ah, yes!" Merlin proclaimed once a clearer shape had been taken. "THAT is much easier to translate! I know exactly where you are going, my boy!"
...
Vexen stepped back from Mozenrath's sleeping body. His assessment was complete. It was time to inform the others.
He took two strides to a radio set in the wall of the medical bay, depressing a button with a single finger. "Huntsman, Wuya, Yzma, Mim, Ayam Aghoul, Archibald Snatcher, and Roman Torchwick, report in to the medical bay at once," he stated calmly before lifting his finger from the button.
The Huntsman had only to walk a short distance from the outer laboratory. Wuya, Mim, and Aghoul teleported in; Yzma, Snatcher, and Roman crowded into a rollercoaster cart together and rode down to meet up with the rest. They filed expectantly around Vexen, all looking eager to hear what he had to announce.
"No beating around the bush this time," Aghoul urged. "You tell us what we want to know about him, or we'll force it out of you!"
"The only reason I beat around the bush regarding Merkel – who will be on his feet and annoying as ever in a matter of hours, mind you – is because you insisted upon interrupting me," Vexen reminded Aghoul.
"You're beating around the bush right now!" Aghoul accused.
"BECAUSE YOU SPOKE BEFORE I HAD A CHANCE TO!" Vexen yelled. He cleared his throat. "The situation regarding Mozenrath is grave. He burned away the absolute majority of his life force, and with it, much of his body. The skin and flesh from the neck upward are intact, but below that, there is no muscle, skin, or nerve tissue. His vitals remain, but are exposed to the elements. If he were to move, it must be with great care, and I would not advise removing any articles of clothing, as they are all the protection he has. Now, before you ask, I could temporarily patch the damage and cover his internal organs with a thin layer of ice, one that would still leave him flexible, but this would risk exposing him to cold temperatures in a manner I find unwise. And I could indeed regrow tissue for him using my replication process, but it would not fix the more pressing problem: the loss of his life force.
"Mozenrath is weakened to the point of barely being able to move himself. Even with a fully functioning body, he would not last long in it. As of now, if he rests, he has several days yet before he succumbs to death. Should he attempt to strain his body too much, that time span will be considerably shortened. And the use of magic is outright prohibited. I have taken the liberty of removing his gauntlet from him and storing it in a safe place so that he does not accidentally cast any spells in his sleep. Were he to use much more magic, he could burn through what life he has left within a matter of hours."
Mim and Aghoul's expressions remained neutral. The Huntsman's, as usual, was unreadable beneath his headgear. However, Yzma, Wuya, Snatcher, and Roman looked visibly brought down by this news, faces knit with worry.
Before any could make any comment, Vexen went on: "There is, however, a way to cure him, even in such dire circumstances. It is a bit of a long shot, but it will have to be worth the risk. I have heard of waters that have the power to heal any ailment: sacred waters, guarded by the moon itself."
"That sounds like CRAZY magic," Roman commented.
"It isn't magic," Vexen clarified. "It is a manifestation of the spirit world. It is not meant for actual use as a healing agent, and such an act is likely to be seen as sacrilege by those who house the water, yet we have little choice. Now, I have only heard about this water conceptually and never pinned down a location. Those who whisper about it have been lenient to disclose its whereabouts for the very reasons I have stated: sacrilege. However, if you haven't been utterly incompetent and lost it, one of you should still possess the compass designed to point the way to the location of whatever we seek."
Wuya held the compass out toward Vexen; "Looking for this?"
Vexen swiped the instrument. "Now," he declared, "if we place it in the map of the worlds, we should be delivered a starting point for our search. Presuming, of course, you all wish to seek the Spirit Waters, though to disagree with that plan at this point would be utter foolishness and a display of complete disloyalty to Mozenrath."
"I am sure I speak for all of us when I say we must locate this water as soon as is humanly possible," the Huntsman replied emphatically. The others nodded, some (Mim and Aghoul) less somberly than others.
"Then it is settled." Vexen took one step toward the table where he had set up the map in advance, placing the compass in its base. Once the map had pinpointed the world in question, he muttered, more to himself than any of his company, "I should have known it would be in the World of Four Nations."