A/N: A lil warning because we have some strong drug use and talk thereof here. Also, there's a song for this chapter, and it's "King for a Day" by Battle Beast.

...

Ansem was delighted to see the castle so alive. The new researchers who had moved into his laboratory, Jumba and Dr. Doppler, seemed as though they were the sort he would get along well with. He'd also run into the castle guard trainees mentioned earlier, Finn and Sokka, and Sora hadn't been exaggerating about their ability to make others smile. It took a couple hours to tour everything, and there was no sight that didn't give Ansem a rush of hope that felt almost untrustworthy.

"You did the right thing, opening our doors to those in need," Ansem informed her. "I will be glad to join the effort to repair the city and give them back their proper homes."

"Mmhmm!" Kairi nodded. It was clear something else was on her mind.

"Shall we adjourn to the gardens for tea?" Ansem suggested.

"Yeah," said Kairi. "I'd like that. Except one thing."

She turned to look both her father and her brother in the eyes. "I want to know who Strelitzia is."

Ienzo couldn't find the strength to speak.

"Kairi," Ansem said. "That story is – "

"I know one of you must've done something bad to her," Kairi said. "That's why I didn't say anything right away. I wanted to be sure that I was ready, and that I wouldn't get mad when I heard it. I've thought about everything we talked about today, and I trust that neither of you would ever hurt her again, whoever she was. But I need to know. You can't keep it from me forever."

Ienzo bowed his head. "I – "

"I can hear it," Kairi told him. "I won't get angry. I promise. I already sort of…let it all out in my head while we were walking around. Because I know what kind of work you did for the Organization." She turned to Ansem then. "And I know what you did to Roxas and Xion. But I also know that when you apologized for that today, you meant it. With all your heart."

Ansem bowed his head also. "I will do whatever it takes to atone – "

"I don't need you to atone!" Kairi said, an edge of frustration creeping into her voice. "It's not about making up for it, because you've done that already. I just want to know that things will be okay going forward. And that means I want to know if something bad happened in the past that still affects me. Because if you two keep lying to cover up what you did, or dodging the question, I'll still love you both, but I AM going to get angry."

"That's fair," Ienzo said softly. "Father, if you are – "

"I am ready to discuss such matters if you are," Ansem told Ienzo.

"There are…some others who should know about this," Ienzo said. "Two of them should be returning from Twilight Town just now. I will meet you in the courtyard with everyone…involved."

"I have a fairly good idea of who the third would be," Ansem sighed.

"You probably do," Ienzo confirmed before turning to walk toward three of the hardest invitations he would ever put forth.

"It seems we can take our time arriving at the courtyard," Ansem told Kairi. "Is there anything else you would discuss in Ienzo's absence?"

"Hmm." Kairi thought it over. "Actually…" She shuffled a foot nervously. "There is one more thing. And it's better if it's just between you and me for now. Come with me to my room?"

She'd chosen such a modest chamber. The same sort everyone else slept in on that bloc. "This was not your childhood room," Ansem told her, "though it seems you've done well in replicating its aesthetic." He referred to the pink wall decorations, the engraved flowers and hearts that adorned the furniture and shelves.

"I still want to get the carpet redone so it matches," Kairi explained, rummaging in the bottom drawer of her desk. "The green is all right, but pink is better."

Ansem smiled. "Sometimes I wondered if you had outgrown the color."

"Why would I?" Kairi asked. "I know it's not for a lot of people, but I think it's pretty. It makes me happy to look at. Just like the hearts and the flowers."

"Then you have grown into a wise woman indeed," Ansem told her. "To be true to oneself is strength."

"Well, I know I have a way to go – oh, here it is!" She removed a leather-bound diary from the drawer. Then she stood up, looking Ansem in the eye. "This is kind of personal. I'm a little nervous about showing it to you. If you look at it, you can't tell anyone else, okay?"

Ansem smiled. "It will be our secret."

She passed him the book, visibly nervous. "After I found out…how we were related…I started writing letters to you. I didn't know if you would ever see them, or if I'd ever be able to talk to you again. I think maybe…you should read some of them. If you want."

Ansem flipped through the pages. The first contained a very formal-looking letter, beginning with "To King Ansem the Wise." Over the course of the journal, the greetings changed, from "Dear Ansem" to "Ansem" to "Father" to "Dad" to "Hey Dad." He could feel tears burgeoning behind his eyes as his heart welled with joy. "I would love to read every one," he stated in full sincerity.

"Sometimes I got mad at you," Kairi said quickly. "Like I said, I didn't know if you would be here, so there are some times I just let off steam, but I promise I didn't mean it – "

Ansem shut the book, stepping forward to place a hand on her shoulder. "My greatest regret is missing your and Ienzo's lives," he stated. "I am not so naïve to think that had we stayed together, every memory would have been pleasant. We would likely have had disagreements, some more spirited than others. I suppose I wish to know what our bad days would have resembled, as well as the good. And, as you may recall, I am no stranger to saying things I wish taken back."

They exchanged a smile. "That's all I had," Kairi said. "Wanna go wait?"

"Let me store the letters somewhere safe first," Ansem said. "After all, I did promise to keep them secret."

"Thanks."

After a quick side trip to Ansem's new room to stash the book, he and Kairi proceeded to the garden tea tables. Ansem automatically found himself wandering toward one of the older tables in the outcropping, one whose chipped paint he knew well. There, before he'd ever even dreamed he would become a royal, he had used to sit with Princess Elise when they were both young. The chair he had always used still felt the same.

"I wonder who Ienzo's bringing," Kairi mused.

"I have my theories," said Ansem, "but perhaps it is best to wait and see for yourself."

When Ienzo arrived, it was with Lea, Isa, and Aerith in tow. Kairi noted that Isa now wore new clothing, with a high-necked zip-up jacket that was distinct from the Organization's old uniform but still gave a sense of formality and broodiness that fit Isa well. Kairi waved them all over, and four more seats were taken.

"What is this about?" asked Aerith. "This is all a bit…vague."

"Yeah, not sure what we all have in common that Roxas, Xion, and Naminé don't fit," Lea admitted.

"It will become clear soon enough," Ienzo said somberly.

"Is this a sad occasion?" Isa asked. "Had I known, I would have come properly dressed for the occasion."

"I got news for ya," said Lea. "You already did." He fake-punched Isa on the upper arm, so Isa did the same back to him, and they shared the sort of smile they hadn't for years.

"I…I suppose there's no other way to do this than just to begin," Ienzo sighed. "I…do you…do you all remember – "

Ansem put up a hand first. "Do you remember a girl named Strelitzia?"

Isa and Lea exchanged confused looks. Aerith, however, gasped, pressing both hands to her mouth. "Strelitzia," she repeated. "Have you…heard anything about what happened to her?"

"That's what we hope to find out," Ienzo said. "But perhaps we should tell the parts you already know, to get everyone up to speed."

Ansem nodded. "Aerith and her mother brought Strelitzia to me years ago, before the fall of Radiant Garden. Before…Xehanort. She was a girl who had arrived here by seemingly magical means, with no memory of her life before waking up in Radiant Garden. She chose her own name, Strelitzia, based on a plant she particularly loved."

"She saw it in my bedroom," Aerith said softly. "We were roommates in the Deepground before we brought her to you. I wanted her to stay in my home." One hand tightened into a fist. "…I wish she had."

"Perhaps then things would have turned out quite differently," Ansem agreed. "I would have traded my bond with her for her safety in a heartbeat, given the chance. As it all went, I took Strelitzia under my wing and raised her as one of my own children. She was around the age of fifteen at the time." He looked to Ienzo. "You were perhaps seven, as you recall."

Ienzo nodded. "I do."

"And you were age four, if memory serves," Ansem told Kairi. "I apologize for not knowing to the number. There are…reasons my memories of that era are a jumble of truths and lies."

Kairi nodded. "It's okay. I don't remember anything at all."

"She was a moderately tall girl," Ansem recalled, "slender, with – "

"Gorgeous orange hair," Aerith said. "Like the sunset, or like a fire, or…like a strelitzia petal. She wore it in two pigtails. It was long, down her back, and I always thought it was so adorable."

Kairi gasped, making a connection. "That's why when I saw Maki's hair like that – "

"You remembered her," Ienzo said. "I…couldn't bring myself to explain it then."

A vague image built in Kairi's mind. "She wore white, didn't she?" she realized. "I think…I maybe remember who we're talking about. Sort of."

"Indeed," Ansem affirmed. "She bonded with the two of you like a sister. Young Aerith was quite a good friend of hers, and would often be invited to the castle to spend time with her, and with both of you." He paused. "What of the other children you had befriended?"

"I…we're not all here," Aerith said softly. "It's a long story. Only Leon, Yuffie, Tifa, Cloud, and I made it out. And we only learned very recently that Cloud survived."

"Then the girl Rinoa – " Ansem began.

"Is gone," Aerith said. "So are Zack and Ellone."

"Hey, where do we come into this story?" Lea asked. "We seem to be missing."

"I'm sure they're getting there, Lea," Isa sighed. "It wouldn't kill you to be patient."

"You don't know that," Lea teased.

Ansem nodded. "Then I shall attempt to make this brief. I was told Strelitzia's family was found, in the city of Luca. And so I sent her away, accompanied by my most trusted apprentices. However…they never should have been trusted."

"It was Even and Braig," Ienzo clarified. "Or…Vexen and Xigbar. However you want to think of them. They fabricated the entire story, and then brought her to the laboratories. And, of course, Xehanort stood by them the whole way. It was likely his idea…knowing what we know about his goals."

"Xehanort," Kairi said. "I've never thought about it, but we did share a home at one time, didn't we? That's…weird."

"I had hoped he would be an eldest brother to you all," Ansem said, "but I could not have been more wrong. He, Even, and Braig began their terrible experiments, and soon, they had recruited Dilan and Aeleus to their cause."

"And me." Ienzo swallowed hard. "I…kept Strelitzia hidden from our father. I kept her hidden from you. I don't know that there's anything I regret more than that."

Aerith pounded the table with her fist, rising. "YOU'RE the one who took her away!"

Isa quickly reached up, putting a hand on her arm. "There is no one here without regrets," he stated calmly. "You won't be able to change the past by complaining. But perhaps, by the end of the story, we'll see the way to alter the future."

Aerith thought it over, then sat back down. "Finish your story," she said with more venom than Kairi had ever seen her display.

"It's a story you know," Ienzo said. "Xehanort arranged a coup on Radiant Garden. Father was framed to have…gone insane, unable to remember what he had done or the difference between truth and lies."

"But the others were faking it, weren't they?" Kairi realized. "That's exactly something Xigbar would do. Warp everything around so nothing made sense anymore!"

"A conclusion I wish I had come to," Ansem sighed. "However, Braig was a childhood friend, as was Even. I never imagined that either could turn on me."

"…I didn't think Even would do that either," Kairi admitted. "He let all of us down."

"This…is where others come into the story," Ienzo said, turning to Lea and Isa. "After spending so much time in our test chambers, Strelitzia had abandoned her name. She began to answer only to the title that Even…that we gave her. You would have known her as Subject X."

Lea and Isa both gasped. "It was HER?" Lea said in disbelief. "We were friends with one of the princesses the whole time?"

"Let me explain," Isa said. "Lea and I made an accidental discovery. A secret way in and out of the laboratory."

Aerith nodded. "We found it too. Later. It was the day we fought. I'm…just realizing we were fighting over the same thing."

"We spoke with Subject X…" Isa shook his head. "No, with Strelitzia through her cell door. We brought her mementos of the outside world, and promised that we would find a way to liberate her from her prison. She never once disclosed to us that she had a name – "

"Because she didn't even feel like she was that person anymore," Lea realized. "Like us, when we joined the Organization and left our old names behind."

"We attempted to free her," Isa said. "We were captured, instead. Experimented and tested upon." Isa looked to Ansem. "We believed they were your orders."

"They never were," Ansem said. "I was not even aware of your presence. You were tricked, as was I."

"Xehanort," Kairi muttered. "And Dilan, Even, and Braig. That's no surprise anymore."

"Yeah, after we got to know the guys, it kinda all made a lot more sense," Lea grumbled. "Just a bunch of schemers at the top of the Organization."

"I would like to say I was merely deceived, and that I thought I was doing what was right," Ienzo said. "But the experiments…they brought me satisfaction. I learned new things about the way of the heart. Heartless, Nobodies, Unversed…I learned it all in our laboratory before our father ever wrote his reports. I felt pride in what I was doing. I knew that I was hurting her…but I didn't want to give it up. Not when I felt I was losing ground in my own home."

"Had I known I was being played for a fool, I would not have withdrawn from you," Ansem told him. "I fear it was my reticence to interact that led you to seek validation elsewhere. You were a child. And though you always were a kind child…perhaps I should have remembered well that not all children are pure."

"Hardly any children ever are, if you ask me," said Isa. "It's a time when we have to distinguish our own desires from what others want from us. Often, we lean too much one way or the other."

"I was always the rebel who wanted to do his own thing," Lea said proudly. "Isa here, well, he was the teacher's pet who just wanted to do what he was told. …No offense."

"No, it's an accurate prognosis of my heart's weaknesses," Isa told him.

"So when we met," Aerith said. "We were fighting, and – "

"Why were you fighting?" Kairi asked. "Don't skip part of the story!"

"Oh," Aerith realized. "Well, a lot happened at once. First, Xehanort threw your father out…and then Maleficent showed up. My friends and I tried to take care of both problems at once. Half of us went to the lab, and half of us went to stop Maleficent. …Neither of us succeeded."

"We'd already thrown our hats in with the enemy by then," Lea said. "It looked like a no-win situation. And worse than that, Strelitzia – man, it's weird to say her real name – was gone by then. We didn't know who moved her, or if she was dead or alive. She just up and vanished."

"We wanted answers," Isa said. "We believed Xemnas would have them. What began as a truce for a greater purpose turned darker."

"In other words," Lea said, "we started out just hanging out with the monologue man and his friends to try and find out where Strelitzia ended up…but we kinda got caught up in the act to the point where we just bought it."

"And I tried to fight them to get to her," said Aerith, "but they already knew she was gone, and they were fighting to stop me from stopping them looking."

"From there, I assume you know the story," Ienzo said. "Kairi, you were sent to the Destiny Islands. The last act of our grandmother, before she too was…taken down."

"My grandma?" Kairi said. "I remember my grandma. I remember she used to tell me stories about how the worlds began. That was even back before I believed in other worlds."

She didn't want to admit it, but a part of her had always hoped that the old woman was still alive somewhere. Just missing. That part had just been disappointed.

"There, you met Sora, while Lea, Isa, and I advanced within Organization XIII, and our father was trapped in the Realm of Darkness," Ienzo said.

"And my friends and I relocated to Traverse Town to try and plan how to take the kingdom back one day," Aerith added.

"But now we're realizing there may be more to the story than we knew," Ienzo stated.

"It has to be about Strelitzia going missing, right?" Kairi asked. "That's the only question you haven't answered."

"We ruled out pretty quickly that Mr. Monologue had any idea where she was," Lea said. "He tried to make it look like he was holding all the cards, but he was stumped. We would've found her a long time ago if he'd had any idea."

"There was the matter of his Heartless," Isa stated, "but as of my work with Xehanort, it is quite clear that Ansem, the other Ansem, had no information to give."

"You're sure he wasn't lying?" Kairi pressed. "He was always harder to figure out than Xemnas. And way more dangerous."

"I…discovered some of his own secret reports during my indenture," Isa stated. "There were many odd names, and he was vague about much, but unless they were in code, nothing was said of Strelitzia other than pondering her whereabouts. I doubt the reports were coded simply because several of the names mentioned have already been proven to be people that have played important roles in recent events."

"Still don't get why he wrote down the one guy that Sora had issues with on that one world with the spirits and the triangles and stuff," Lea said.

"Ganondorf," Isa corrected. "That eludes me as well. And, if I recall, you have also had a run-in with Salem."

"Salem?" Kairi repeated. "Don't ask Lea about her. Ask ME about her. We've fought her friends. They almost killed Kazuichi. She's definitely no stranger. Both she and Ganondorf work for Maleficent, right? Is Ansem planning an alliance with her?"

"No," Isa stated. "He continually refers to her as an enemy. But this is unrelated to the topic at hand. His private writings betrayed a need for the knowledge of Strelitzia's location."

"Not to mention that he interrogated me," Ansem said. "He seemed to truly believe that I knew where Strelitzia had vanished to, as though I was the one who relocated her behind Xehanort's back. He was surprised when I had no information to give."

Kairi suddenly realized something she hadn't even thought of before. "Dad? Did he…when he was questioning you, to get you to talk, were you hurt?"
"He knew he could not eliminate me permanently," Ansem said, "and that, for now, is all that matters. I was happy to give him the truth about Strelitzia simply because it was a null and void answer. No information meant he had nothing to do with it."

"Perhaps that is why they say ignorance is bliss," Isa mused.

"Though seriously, you were the next suspect," Lea chimed in. "Seriously, after figuring out that the Norts had no clue, we started wondering if you really did move her to get ahead of the game."

"I only wish I knew anything about her whereabouts," Ansem said sadly.

"This is where the stories don't add up," Ienzo stated. "The simple answer is that one party or another hid Strelitzia away…or, hopefully not, disposed of her permanently. However, it is clear for several reasons that that party was not Ansem, and Ansem and I – and Isa as well – can vouch for the fact that no direct iteration of Xehanort knows what happened. That means an involved party acted in their own self-interest, betraying all sides on the board for an unknown motive. Now, I trust Aeleus enough at this point to believe him when he says he knows nothing about it. And…because he is the one who shared this experience with me…I asked him, long ago. I cannot say I have the same faith in Dilan, Braig, or Even telling the truth."

"The three slimiest snakes of them all," Lea grumbled. "That's one hell of a suspect pool."

"I would argue Marluxia was a 'slimier snake' among the Organization," Isa said, "if we want to be technically accurate. Of course, we can rule him out as a suspect."

"You sure?" Lea asked. "There's kind of a plant theme going on here. Maybe they were secretly siblings or something? Yeah, no, now that I'm saying it out loud, that's stupid."

(And indeed, there was no blood relation between the two, nor any sort of familial connection.)

"Any one of them could've taken her," Kairi said. "Dilan lied to us for a long time about who he really was so he could do what he wanted to do, and basically for no other reason. Braig's always been right next to Xehanort, and it would be easy for him to be setting up his own plans without being noticed, especially since we already know he can convince people they're out of their own mind. And Even, well…he's with the WHAM ARMY now, which means he's finally acting out on his own too. They'll take whatever they can get, and if Strelitzia was valuable to them, or if she was Even's prize experiment, then he'd definitely keep her ready to bring back out for them."

"Either way," Ienzo said, "for one of them to betray Xehanort would have been unprecedented. Marluxia we always knew wanted to assassinate his way to the top, and Isa, you kept a poker face for a long time, but – "

"I wish I had gone through with my plans to betray the Organization," Isa stated. "Once again, while that is how it began…I fell for my own act. It was no longer an act of betrayal to anyone but myself. Even without a true heart…I somehow managed to make myself miserable."

"But we got you out now," Lea reminded him, patting his shoulder. "Even though we still haven't found her."

"I'd given up on her," Isa admitted.

"We CAN'T give up on her!" Aerith snapped. "Something happened to her, and she could still be out there, waiting for someone to come save her! Any one of us, her friends and family! And even if she's…even if she's gone, then I want to know who did it and why. I want to know what happened to her, even if it's the worst possible ending to the story!"

"That's why I think we should open an investigation," said Ienzo. "The trail is ten years cold, but there might be elements we overlooked. Revisiting the events of the past could show us what we didn't see in the moment, and there's hardly anyone better equipped than those sitting here at this table."

"I still don't remember anything," Kairi said. "I don't know how much help I'll be. But I want to say thank you for telling me the truth. I'll do whatever I can to help find her. She was my sister, so I need to know too."

"You're…likely upset at this turn," Ienzo said.

"Not at you," Kairi replied softly. "Like I said. I know what you used to do for the Organization. All three of you. And I played it all out in my head so I wouldn't be angry. That's just not who you are anymore, and what matters is that we find out what happened going forward." She looked down to the tabletop. "But I am a little disappointed that Grandma didn't survive. I mean, I should've known, and it was kind of obvious, but I guess I hoped she was just…hiding somewhere."

"I miss her dearly," Ansem agreed. "Her last act before sending you on your way – something I'm still not certain how she achieved – was to grant me this armor." He lay a hand on his own chest plate, luminous blue lines beneath the red cape. "It protected me from the Realm of Darkness and prevented me from becoming a creature of the Dark. All she wanted, in the end, was to spare her family suffering."

"What was her name?" Kairi asked.

"Minerva," Ansem said.

"Like the Lost Aeon's theorized name," Ienzo remarked. "I see her own parents were fond of the Summoners' legends."

"She loved Strelitzia too, didn't she?" Kairi asked.

"As much as she loved both of you," Ansem said, looking to Kairi and Ienzo.

"Then she would want us to find out what happened to her," Kairi said. "And if she's…still out there."

"One other aspect of this story bothers me," Isa stated. "Aerith, you noted that in your amateur assault on the castle, three of your friends were lost."

Aerith nodded. "Ellone, Zack, and Rinoa."

"You've never said those names before," Kairi pointed out.

"I…" Aerith shifted in her seat. "I never know if it's right to dwell on their memories or to move on. I think I might have just been trying to avoid thinking about it because it hurts."

"What were the circumstances of their ends?" Isa asked. "I want to be very certain of the facts in this case."

"Ellone was…killed by Maleficent," Aerith said, trembling at the memory. "B-Barret saw it happen. Then, while he and Yuffie escaped, he said that they were separated from Rinoa, and she never made it out."

"Was a body seen?" Isa asked.

Aerith flinched.

"I am not asking to be callous," Isa clarified. "I wonder if perhaps our culprit was a collector of sorts. If there were other victims to trace."

"No," Aerith finally spat out. "We didn't see the body. We just assumed, because Maleficent wouldn't let her live long in there. And…and Zack was lost in the shuffle during the laboratory fight. Either one of the experiments killed him, or one of the Organization."

"No body seen?" Isa asked again.

"…No," Aerith said, soft as could be, "but I wasn't awake for it. I was out cold from…the fight." Her eyes lit up. "But that was also when Cloud was lost, and we had no idea he was fighting to get back to us all those years. Looking for his Light. Maybe…maybe that means Zack was okay, too."

"Where is Cloud now?" Kairi asked. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"That's…another thing," said Aerith. "He vanished in a fight with Sephiroth, after the assault on Hollow Bastion just a little while ago, when we restored the name of Radiant Garden. Neither of them has been seen since. I know Cloud can hold his own in a fight, but Sephiroth is strong, and – and I worry. Tifa left to try and track him, but I haven't heard from her since then either."

"To get back to the point at hand," said Isa, "what interests me is that everyone who partook in that fight abandoned the laboratory. I at no point saw the body of any fallen…except for you, who I believed dead at the time. That means that there are three unaccounted for during that time period: Strelitzia, Zack, and Rinoa. They may be unrelated, or may have met different ends. However, we do know they had one thing in common: getting too close to the Organization and its secrets."

"So you're thinking that our mystery man, whichever one of the three it was, might've been running some kind of cover-up job," Lea realized. "Covering up what? What didn't the Xehanorts already know?"

"That, I couldn't begin to imagine," Isa admitted.

"It seems that to continue forward, we would need the assistance of a detective," said Ansem.

"Ienzo's pretty smart about putting things together," said Kairi.

Ienzo shook his head. "I can do a lot from behind a desk. Field work is another matter. Xemnas didn't prefer to put me on reconnaissance duty for a reason."

"That reason being you were bad at it," Isa said mischievously. "Your reports would always document page after page of irrelevant details about your surroundings, but you would look right over anything outside the box. In other words, you didn't see most of what we needed. That said, you were one of our brightest minds in other regards. Your talent was wasted on the Organization, and I presume you are where you belong now."

"I…thank you," Ienzo said shly. "But the point stands. I would feel a lot better if there was someone trained in this sort of thing, who knew where we should start or which lead to pursue."

"Wait," Lea realized. "You want a detective? Because I know somebody who knows a guy."

"Is it the somebody and the guy I'm thinking of?" Kairi asked with a big smile.

"If you're thinking of your other half's boy toy." Lea winked.

Kairi looked to Ansem. "Naminé. She has a friend. Well, maybe more than a friend, but we're letting them take it slow. On his world, he was a detective."

"An ULTIMATE detective," Lea threw in. "That's a title that's gotta be worth somethin'."

"We should ask him for ideas," Kairi said. "Tell him what we talked about here!"

"Not looking forward to doing that all over again," Lea said. "Even I'm not sure I remember all the details."

"Are you saying that you didn't…get it memorized?" Isa teased.

Aerith and Ienzo both let out ugly snorts of laughter.

"We should get in contact with this young man at his earliest convenience," Ansem decided. "I…have matters to settle with Naminé, as well. She too deserves an apology for what I have done…especially given that in a way, she may have also been my daughter."

"She forgave me," said Lea, "so she's gotta forgive you. I was way worse."

"No, the fact that she forgave me should tell you all you need to know," Isa related. "Compared to me, you were a saint."

"Are you seriously gonna mope about everything you did wrong over and over and over again?" Lea groaned. "No one needs to hear that, you know. Haven't you been paying attention? The people like you best when you mouth off. We're on the same team now."

Isa's lip twitched into a smile, but he fought it down. "I'm only saying that Naminé will forgive. Still and all, it is good reason to contact her, and to ask her about this boy she's…" He looked to Lea. "Seeing?"

"Flirting with," Lea clarified. "Pretty hard."

"Perhaps we could even clarify her path in regards to him," Isa suggested slyly. "I see no reason they should only be flirting when they clearly enjoy each other's company. She may just need a push…or he might."

"See?" Lea clapped his hands together. "THAT'S the Isa I remember!"

"Then let's go!" Aerith stood up. "We don't have time to waste!" She took off running.

"It must be at the boy's convenience!" Ansem tried to call after her, but she was already gone. He shook his head. "I suppose this means we are committed to beginning the quest this very moment, if no one objects."

"Nope." Kairi stood up. "I'm gonna find out what happened to my sister, and I don't care how long it takes to figure it out."

...

After Fiona's scouting party returned from the investigation of Twilight Town, that same group determined they would spend the night having a somber slumber party – a way for the children to hang out together in reverence of all that Molly had lost. The other Seraphs were invited back, save Dezel, who thought that best, since he wasn't really "Molly's" to begin with. Giovanni also asked if he could sit in and maybe join in on Truth or Dare, and he was of course welcomed.

The party took place one room over from Ainsley's own. They'd woken up shortly ago, choosing to take a while to gather their composure before heading downstairs to seek out food for the missed meal. Right now, they lay on their bed, atop the blankets, slowly flipping through the pages of a trashy romance novel that Ohn had swiped him from a used bookstore (Zethrid of course had made him march back and close the portal up so he didn't accidentally destroy all of Twilight Town in the process).

There came a knock on Ainsley's closed door. The sort that didn't sound so much like a fist, but someone rapping a thin metal object on the wood. Ainsley froze. They'd been hoping fervently that this would happen, but they'd also been hoping desperately that this wouldn't happen.

"Um…Ainsley?" Fernald's voice sounded from the other side. "Can I…can we talk for a minute? If you're decent. And, um, you can say no, and I'll respect your privacy and leave."

So Fernald was as apprehensive about this conversation as Ainsley was. That was something of a comfort. Maybe they could just both agree to put this off until later.

Ainsley knew that wasn't actually going to solve anything. They needed to talk, and the longer it was put off, the harder it would be to get anywhere. So they said, with a hitch in their voice, "Yeah, I'm good. You can come in."

It occurred to them that maybe they should've offered to open the door, since Fernald's prosthetics weren't the best for manipulating door handles, but Fernald managed just fine, having become pretty adept with the hooks. He then shut the door behind him, standing just in front of it. "Uh…hi," he began.

"Hi," Ainsley replied.

"It's been a while," said Fernald.

"Yeah," Ainsley agreed.

A silence hung heavy between them.

"So, I, uh…" Fernald shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back. "You…remember that thing that happened up on Mortmain Mountain…when I kind of…didn't go with you when we all agreed to leave, even though we'd kind of agreed to stay together as a group beforehand?"

"I remember," Ainsley said. "I assumed that's what we'd be talking about, since it left me with considerable emotional baggage."

"Ah, that's what I was afraid of," Fernald muttered. "And, um, you know how after that, I…kind of…sort of…"

"Didn't come back to find us even after Count Olaf was gone."

"Yeah. That." Fernald paused. "Where are the others, anyway? Are you a solo act now?"

"They're helping run an interdimensional general store," Ainsley said. "I guess I'm supposed to be doing that too, but I kinda prefer just chilling out here. We still hang out. There's a local play auditioning in a week and I'm trying to convince them to get back on board with acting. Except I'm not trying very hard, because they all said yes pretty much immediately."

"That sounds nice," said Fernald. "You always were a good actor, and you loved the stage part of our evil schemes, so it's nice to know you can do the acting part without the part that's too evil."

"…You used to love it too," Ainsley said, maybe a bit sharper than they'd intended.

Fernald sighed. "I guess there's no real good way to say this besides the obvious. I was wrong. I'm sorry. It's not that I wanted to leave you and the others, it's just that…well…I didn't know if I could show my face in front of any of you after I threw that cage off that mountain."

"Can…I ask something about that?" Ainsley said nervously.

"Yes?"

"Did you know the cage was empty?" Ainsley asked. "You kept the blanket on it to make it look like the Baudelaire girl was still in the cage, but then she was still alive even after you threw it. I know you and that girl became friends, probably because you have a history with a sister of your own that I know about because of that time at the Caligari Carnival when we had our fortunes read, so I was…really surprised when you decided to throw her away. I thought maybe you'd let her out before you picked up the cage, but nobody saw that happen, and you really seemed as surprised as anyone else when she was alive, so I don't know. I know what I thought you would've done, but I don't know if that's what you did, and…it makes me think maybe I don't know you as well as I thought I did."

"Of course I let her out of the cage," Fernald said, eyes wide. "The surprise was an act, because I'm an actor. I would have thought that would be more clear to everyone who wasn't Count Olaf, but maybe it was more just implied. I like to think that if anyone had written a book about it, they'd emphasize that I wouldn't harm the baby in particular, so then anyone watching it happen in real time would know that for sure. I didn't realize it was so ambiguous. I'm…sorry I didn't make that clearer, I guess."

"It would kind of have given the whole game away to Olaf, though."

"Yes, well…I'm sorry I ever even picked up that cage in the first place," Fernald said. "All I wanted was for him to – I mean, I just thought that he – I guess we'd been together so long that I wanted to be his – "

"Were you in love with him, Fernald?"

Fernald was struck quiet for a moment. He'd known this question would be coming. "I…thought I was. It's harder to say now, because he wasn't exactly who I thought he would be, and he didn't treat me how I expected him to, so I think it's one of those cases where I loved the idea I made up about someone I found attractive. And that's why I did everything I did. I threw all my real friends away over someone who didn't even care about me, and…I knew I'd betrayed you, so I didn't want to make it worse. But I guess I just didn't want to make it worse for me, instead of for any of you. When Fiona came along…I thought that would just solve everything, to go back to where I was really supposed to be, with my family. I already knew she cared about me and that it wouldn't be complicated, and I wanted to protect her too. We'd been apart for so long, and we needed to bond again as a family and find Stepfather."

"But we could've helped you find Captain Widdershins."

"I know." Fernald sighed. "I know. And if you want to just…not talk to me again, I get it, because that's the message I sent to you."

Ainsley put the book aside, sitting up on the bed. "Fernald…do you remember when the Heimlich Hospital was burning down, and Count Olaf almost took off without me because I was having issues getting around a plethora of burning debris, but you made him stall the car until I made it out? I always loved…that you waited for me. I knew we got along, but that made me realize that we were actually, really friends. I mean that the whole troupe was. It wasn't just a you-and-me thing. I mean. It just made me really happy, but I don't know if I showed that because I generally emote in a restricted fashion."

"You didn't need to show it," said Fernald. "I just figured you were happy because anyone would be. And I know you've always been more reserved about how you display emotion. That's not a bad thing. It's a very good thing, actually, because it's…well, it's you."

Ainsley nodded. "So when you didn't come with us on the mountain…I thought…it didn't make sense, because you waited for me and you didn't let the troupe leave without me. But when it was a choice between us or Olaf, you didn't catch up to any of us. You just wanted to be with Olaf. You didn't want to wait for me – for us anymore. And that disappointed me a lot, because I thought our friendship was more like what it looked like after the hospital."

"Oh, Ainsley," Fernald sighed. "I can't make any excuses. You're right, and I'm sorry, and actually, I should've – "

The door suddenly opened. "AH – SORRY!" Crusher reeled back, almost knocking down Spike, Car Crash, Flamethrower, Ben, and Darkstar in the process. "Wrong room!"

"We're…" Car Crash sniffled. "We're looking for the sad slumber party…"

"It's one room to my right and your left," Ainsley said.

Giovanni's loyal henchpeople started trying to do the math to figure out what that meant.

"They mean it's that way." Fernald pointed.

"Thanks," Spike whimpered. "We just have to be with people who get it right now, but who also want to play stupid party games that could distract us from the fact that our homeworld might be gone forever."

"I understand," said Fernald.

"So do I," Ainsley added. "Have fun, but also cathartic grief."

Crusher pulled the door closed as the Blasters moved to the correct room.

"…Where were we?" Fernald asked.

"I had a second part to say about that," Ainsley went on. "The thing is that sometimes, I think…the metaphor's all backward because what you did was wait for me to get out of danger. And then that other time, you went right into the danger. So I sometimes think…maybe it's not fair that I didn't wait for you. Maybe it's not fair that I let myself get so hurt over it when you were obviously – "

"No, no, no!" Fernald interrupted. "This wasn't your fault at all! Please don't think like that. I made a very, very bad choice, and that was my own problem to solve. But you didn't ask to have to escape a devastating fire, and I think…I'm sorry for what happened then, too. Not for stalling the car, because that needed to happen. But I shouldn't have just stood out there. The next time, if it ever happens again…I'd go into the building to make sure you were safe and help you get back to the exit."

"I've never resented you not doing that," Ainsley said. "It's generally a bad idea to run directly into a building that's burning down. If you had gone down a different hallway, we could've lost you instead."

"But I didn't do anything to help, not really," Fernald said. "And…you know why it was that way?"

"Because Count Olaf was getting impatient and you wanted to do right by your friends but also you really just wanted to not make him angry, so you were straddling a fence between the two options?"

"That's precisely it, actually." Fernald sighed. "I thought he was different. I mean, I always knew he was a villain, but I thought he at least cared about his henchpeople and had lines he wouldn't cross. I spent so much time admiring him that I still sometimes wonder if I could've just…saved my relationship with him if I'd – "

"There's nothing you could've done," Ainsley said sternly. "I think he saw us all as expendable, and he made that pretty clear when he let Kevin, Colette, and Hugo die." They cringed. "And…we were all so caught up in impressing him that I was just glad the competition was gone. That was kind of awful. Sometimes I think that if those three had lived, they could've made bigger names for themselves as villains, and maybe would have been able to make names for themselves somewhere like the Denouement Hotel, with the assumption of course that they would survive that devastating fire as well."

"Of course." Fernald sighed. "Hopefully, there's a universe out there where they got a little more time."

"After all this stuff about the worlds I've seen, I'm thinking that might not be impossible anymore." Ainsley sighed. "But anyway…if I'm being honest, what happened between us hurts a lot. I trusted you a lot, and I was glad to know that you were there for me. For us, I mean. So then, when you turned your back on m – on us, it was just…really heartbreaking. Especially when we didn't hear from you for so long after Olaf was taken down."

"I don't think I can ever make up for that," Fernald sighed. "Fiona wants us to stay here, but is that really best for anyone here? It looks like you've made friends who will be better to you, and I'm guessing you want to stay with them."

"I don't want you to leave," Ainsley said suddenly, realizing the implication Fernald was getting at and honestly fearing it.

"…You don't?" Fernald's eyes lit up with a joyous spark. "But I was – "

"You hurt me a lot," Ainsley reiterated. "And…you also apologized just now, and that means a lot, and like I said, we didn't wait for you even though you waited for me. So I think it's going to hurt for a while still, but…I also miss you a lot."

"I've missed you too," Fernald sighed. "Every day. I always told myself I couldn't abandon Fiona and Stepfather for you. You, the troupe, I mean. But I know that was just an excuse, and we could have at least stopped in the city to see you all act in a play. That would have been wonderful."

"Do you…want to come to the auditions in Twilight Town with us?" Ainsley asked. "Maybe if we all got back onstage together, it would spark our old friendship."

"…Yes," Fernald said. "Yes, I would love that! Oh, but I still have to apologize to the others, too. What if they don't take it well?"

"I don't know what you should do then," Ainsley said. "But it still needs to be said, and you won't know the answer until you ask the question, so…"

"Then I'll do it."

"And just to be clear, Fernald," Ainsley went on, "I don't want to take you away from your family. That's too important to you."

"Well, Fiona and I are on our own mission now," Fernald said. "And it looks like it might mean we stay here with you and catch up with the others, so…I won't have to choose. If I do have to choose in the future, I'll just…make a better choice than last time, so there's room for all of you. Have you talked to Fiona yet? I think you're going to love her."

"Mostly I was unconscious for all that," Ainsley said.

"Right," Fernald said. "Large-lake-sickness."

"Yeah. Are you…gonna be okay with getting over Olaf?"

"I kind of have to be," Fernald said. "Maybe being here will give me the way to do that. I just should've known better than to chase someone who was so obviously a heartless villain! I guess what I need is someone more on the good end of the moral spectrum, as much as I don't believe morality is binary."

"I mean…here, we're all kind of good and kind of bad," Ainsley said. "And we make friends with a lot of real villains and a lot of real heroes. You can just kind of…do what you want and not worry. Maybe you'll…meet someone here who's enough of a villain to be attractive to you, but doesn't cross the line."

"I don't know that I'm ready to think about meeting someone entirely new," said Fernald. "It's just…complicated."

"I know."

"So, um…that's all I really had to say," Fernald explained. "I'm sorry, again."

"And I'm sorry if I made you feel like – "

"You didn't. Trust me. So. Um…I guess you want to read your book and have some quiet, so I'm going back to my guest room for the night."

"Okay."

Fernald opened the door and took one step out.

"I hope you like it here," Ainsley said, feeling as though somehow it wasn't quite right to leave off where they had.

Fernald looked back at them and smiled. "I think I will. It's already a lot better than I thought it would be."

Then he left, shutting the door behind him.

About that same time, exactly one floor below, Locus walked in on the Once-ler in a side room, standing on a coffee table and wearing a stethoscope that he'd pressed to the ceiling. "What are you doing?" Locus snapped.

Once-ler, startled, fell right off the table. "OW!"

Locus walked over to silently take his hand and pull him to his feet. "Who were you listening to?"

"Listening?" Once-ler laughed nervously. "I wasn't LISTENING to anyone! I was checking for termites. You know, the first sign of a termite infestation is the…chewing sounds?"

Locus stared at him with a gaze that commanded honesty.

Once-ler sighed. "Okaaaaay, I was listening to Ainsley and their old friend, the hook guy. I'm trying to figure out if there's something between them. You know, SOMETHING."

"I know," said Locus. "Let them go."

"What?"

"Let…them…go," Locus demanded. "If they want you, they'll choose you. And if they don't, you have no business taking them away from who they're happy with."

"But I…" Once-ler sighed. "I know, okay? It just hurts. Like I bet it hurt when you found out Emerald, you know."

"It did hurt," said Locus. "But it makes me happy to see her with Velvet, Magilou, and Eleanor. They belong together. She was a passing attraction anyhow. Nothing close to real love."

"Wait," said Once-ler. "Are you implying you're speaking from experience with someone you actually did really love?" He sat on the coffee table. "Okay, I gotta know the deets."

"No. You don't."

"Aren't we pals?"

"Yes," said Locus. "'Pals' that respect each other's boundaries and don't push each other's buttons."

"Right, right," said Once-ler. "You know this is going to drive me crazy for the next, like, week, trying to figure out who you meant."

"That isn't my problem."

"If she left you at the altar, if she was cheating on you, if – "

Locus sighed. "It isn't like you think. It wasn't romantic love. Or a woman. It was someone I considered myself inseparable from. I was never attracted, and I definitely didn't want us to get married. I think I would rather have shot off my own kneecaps. We didn't even consider each other friends, not out loud. But on the battlefield, all we ever had was each other. I thought we didn't even need to be friends in order to have a bond. To need each other's presence. To never have one half without the other. Even if we hated each other, there was consolation in that, and many days, we did hate each other. It wasn't what you'd think of as love. But it was a type of love. Or maybe just a type of dependence. There was one moment when he protected me, saved my life, near the end of our relationship, and I thought it was him finally showing that he cared about me. But it was nothing like that. He wanted to leave me to die. He was just afraid of what I'd do to him if I survived it."

"Wow," said the Once-ler. "That…stinks. Seriously. You miss him?"

"I think I always will. But I need to let him go. We were wrong for each other. And if I ever see him again…I can't guarantee I won't kill him on sight. Mostly because if I don't shoot first, he will. I tried as hard as I could, but he wasn't willing to give back, so there's nothing else I can do to change things. If he extended the olive branch, that might be different, but it would also be nothing more than the bait to a larger trap he'd set. I know that much about him now. You've tried all you can with Ainsley, and now, you don't have the control anymore. They have to be the one to come back to you. But the difference between us is that even if you lose Ainsley as the kind of partner you're thinking, you'll still have them as a friend."

"That…really puts things into perspective," the Once-ler realized. "And also now makes the Emerald thing hurt more because you were really hoping she'd fill that void, weren't you?"

"I didn't invest too much into the idea," said Locus. "But the idea was there. It wouldn't have been a fair thing to ask of her anyway."

"Good call." Once-ler nodded. "So, um…are you…are you good? Like, do you need to talk about it more – "

"Just take my lesson to heart and don't make me feel like I told you all that for nothing," Locus stated firmly. "That's all I want." Then he turned and left.

Once-ler slid off the table, slowly trudging back to his room. He was starting to feel very strongly about Ainsley – noticing their looks, their little movements, their turns of phrase. But it was, at the end of the day, a schoolboy-style crush. He wanted the two of them to have a chance. But he also knew that that just might not be how things were set up to work, and he had no entitlement to a relationship of any sort with Ainsley, platonic or otherwise.

All he could do was hope that maybe Ainsley felt the same way about him. And if not…then he'd have to accept that and not keep pushing.

He knew all too well what happened when he kept pushing past common sense: he would destroy the very thing he loved.

...

Finally, the laboratory was outfitted. The Hellish Computer was a massive terminal that glowed faintly red-orange as though perpetually burning; its screen showed a blinking text cursor, ready for commands to be input. The ingredients obtained at Omega Mart lay spread out on every lab table and in the designated specimen refrigerators, which were all purple with blue or green animal carvings. For some reason, there was also an electric guitar here, one that seemed to have had its frame forged of human bones. It was plugged into a purple amp. Finally, there were the participants: the Huntsman, Vexen, Snatcher, Roman, Mim, Aghoul, Yzma, Wuya.

Mozenrath himself was copying lines over from the original recipe onto a new paper. "The bulk of this is in Infernal Code," he said. "Lucky for you, that's one of the languages Destane had me memorize. And, with that touch – " He left off a flourish. "We now have it in a language that can be relatively understood by anyone, barring a few exceptions."

"Excellent," Yzma cackled. "Let the brewing begin!"

Mozenrath held up his hand. "Not so fast. There's an enormous caveat to this. I didn't expect it to be easy, but there's one part of this process that's going to be…difficult, to say the least, so I'm giving everyone warning well in advance. For the final setting of the potion, after all ingredients have been processed, there's a point where none of us will be able to express any doubt. Not about whether the potion will work. Not about ANYTHING. And that includes any and all questions, because doubt is the foundation of every question. Again, this goes beyond not asking. You can't THINK about a single question either. If we do, well, the whole thing will be useless and we'll have to start over. Oh, and also the potion will explode and take out the entire Mystic Isles with it, which is kind of a bigger problem."

Roman winced. "Ouch."

"I should think it would be easy for us not to think of questions for a little while," Aghoul asked. "How long, again?"

"No time limit here," said Mozenrath, "but I'd say gear up for at least an hour. And if it were just ONE of us brewing this, then it might be an easier feat. But all nine of us have to have purely optimistic minds. No questions."

"Piece of cake," said Mim.

"Oh, really?" Mozenrath countered. "Let's do a trial run. Right here, right now. Go five minutes without asking OR THINKING of a question."

"Please," Mim scoffed. "How hard could that be?"

"That was a question," Mozenrath told her.

"Is it truly going to be that picky?" Snatcher sighed.

"And so was that," Mozenrath pointed out.

"There just HAD to be a catch, didn't there?" Yzma chimed in.

"You don't hear yourselves saying these," Mozenrath grumbled, careful to make it a statement.

"You need not worry about me," said the Huntsman. "I, for one, actually understand the assignment."

Mozenrath nodded at him.

"In fact, I will likely be the only one able to complete this task," said the Huntsman.

Mozenrath smiled.

"Wouldn't you agree?"

"GAAAAAH!" Mozenrath yelled. "You were doing SO well. SO well."

"We're all a bunch of idiots, aren't we?" said Aghoul.

"STOP," said Mozenrath.

"Does it REALLY count if the questions are rhetorical?" Roman said.

"YES," Mozenrath told him.

"Well, who came up with that stupid rule?" Wuya sighed.

"Oh, for – " Vexen's frustration boiled over. "WILL YOU ALL STOP BEING MORONS FOR FIVE SECONDS?" Then he realized, and he winced at himself.

"For Ahriman's sake," Mozenrath groaned, "am I the ONLY one here who knows how to handle this?" Then he also realized. "Apparently no. So before we get to that point, we have to figure out what extreme measure we're going to take in order to avoid any unnecessary questions."

"We could pare down those brewing to a chosen few," said Vexen.

"And after the display you just witnessed," Mozenrath said, "which few would you suggest? Go on. Tell me."

Vexen bit his lip.

"We're going to have to come up with some kind of diversion," Mozenrath said.

"We could use a musical number," Yzma said. "I, for one, suggest we take one from Oliver!. Wonderful show." She cleared her throat. "Who will buy my sweet red roses, two blooms for a penny?"

"Question," Mozenrath told her. "That's a question."

"You have to step off Broadway and into the realm of insipid pop and dead genres like boy bands," Aghoul suggested. "What about that one Backstreet Boys song? Am I ori-gi-nal? Yeaaahhhh…"

"Also a question," Mozenrath pointed out.

"Okay, hang on." Wuya put up a finger. She then bobbed her head from side to side, to a beat no one could hear. "…after all is said and done, you're gonna be the lonely one, oh, do you believe in life after – no, there's a question in that one too."

"Let's just rule out singing," said Mozenrath. "We need something that will keep our minds focused on one single thing that ISN'T a question."

"So it's hypnosis we want," Aghoul said. "Dreamless trances."

"That's not the – " But then Mozenrath stopped and thought about it. "Actually, that might be our only recourse left. Continue."

"Just before the period of no questions arrives," Aghoul said, "I hypnotize everyone here, myself included, into an indefinite and dreamless sleep."

"You're CERTAIN it will be dreamless." Snatcher didn't do as good of a job as he'd liked, keeping the edge out of his voice.

"If I use my charm here to cast the spell, then yes!" Aghoul tapped on his dream charm. "A complete coma. No risk of anyone accidentally dreaming about asking questions."

"Or doubting that the potion will work," said Mozenrath. "That leaves us with one conundrum. How do we snap out of it if even you are under?"

"Well, we just ask one of the other palace guests who ISN'T part of the process to wake us up," Yzma said. "Simple as that!"

"…The irony of this guest potentially being Deymos is reason enough for me to give that task to him," Vexen mused.

"Yeah, and he's also your favorite," Wuya reminded him. "Bias much?"

"Silence," Vexen told her firmly.

"Yes, but we won't know how long it will take the potion to settle," Mozenrath said. "He comes down here too early and thinks of a question, and the Isles are all space dust."

"Well, do we have an absolute maximum on when the potion is supposed to settle?" Wuya asked. "Twenty-four hours?"

"You want us to sleep here for twenty-four hours," Mozenrath sighed.

"Am I wrong, though?" Wuya urged.

"It's not more than twenty-four hours," Mozenrath said. "The original spell was designed to lose its efficacy at the stroke of the New Year's bell, and also to be brewed on the same day, so we're probably not even talking twelve."

"Probably or definitely?" Yzma asked.

"I don't – it's not more than a day!" Mozenrath barked.

"Then it will be twenty-four hours for our own safety," Vexen said, tapping away at his scroll.

"I'd rather not be in a coma for an entire day," Mozenrath sighed, "but knowing you've just texted Deymos that exact timeframe – "

"Perceptive." Vexen smirked.

"I suppose it's better than causing a magical meltdown that wipes us all out in the same shockwave," Mozenrath relented. "So that leaves us with one more item of business, which technically is part of the potion recipe itself. It won't take form unless we charge the brewing site with an evil mood."

"As opposed to what we're all feeling right now?" Mim crossed her arms. "I'd say we're plenty evil!"

"No, we can't just stand here and be evil," Mozenrath told her. "It's about energy. It's about…taking what's inside and putting it on the outside."

"What he means is it's about cultivating an atmosphere that has a distinctly sinister aura," Aghoul said as he strapped the guitar over his chest, positioning his hands. "And one of the best ways to do that is with – "

"KARAOKE NIGHT!" Yzma yelled.

"Maybe more accurately 'cover band afternoon,'" Aghoul corrected, "but you have the premise down. I've found a lovely song about corrupt politicians – well, actually, it was meant to condemn them, but I think we can reclaim it as a pride anthem for our side – and I think it's going to give us what we need."

"Without further ado," Mozenrath said with a smirk, "Ayam Aghoul…rock on."

"Wait JUST a moment," Vexen attempted. "I never agreed to – "

But Aghoul was already playing the intro with great vigor: power chords that echoed off the laboratory walls and surged with confidence. As always, the words and the notes made themselves clear to the hearts of those willing to accept the song and the mood, and it was Mim who started it off, summoning a microphone that also looked to be made of bone: "Welcome to the nightmare, where villains wear the crown! Fools rule a broken world, and fear grows all around!"

"There's a bad king." Wuya pointed to Mozenrath behind his back. "A dreadful puppet on a string."

"He pretends to be a champion of the common man!" Snatcher threw both arms out wide, sauntering forward with a flourish.

Wuya and Snatcher ran to each other, playing off each other's energy: "WANTS MORE DIVISION IN HIS LOST AND RIVEN LAND!"

"CAN WE PLEASE STOP THIS – " Vexen attempted, putting out a hand. He went ignored.

Yzma joined up with Snatcher to duet the high note: "His greedy EYES! Look insane, frozen smile like he's in pain! He doesn't COUNT! The human cost but only money made or lost!"

Mozenrath smirked proudly, taking all these words to heart and as compliments.

"KING FOR A DAY!" Aghoul yelled.

Yzma and Wuya spun each other round and round; "He kills the truth and looks away!"

"KING FOR A DAY!" Aghoul rallied again.

Snatcher twirled Roman into his arms and dipped him low before singing sweetly, "Lives like the world would end today!"

As Aghoul gave the call of "KING FOR A DAY!" again, the Huntsman approached Mozenrath, one hand extended. "What do you hide?" he sang, looking directly into Mozenrath's eyes. "Why do you lie?"

Mozenrath took his hand, and the two began to slow dance, as much as one could do to a metal song. "Who made the rules for this game?" the Huntsman went on. "Who is paying your champagne? All the mercy in the world cannot save you anymore – "

Mim leapt high, sprouting a pair of batlike wings to spread wide as she belted "KING FOR A DAY!"

Vexen watched, completely aghast, as this completely rational potion-brewing session de-evolved into a dance party. As Yzma, Mim, and Wuya started up a can-can line, as Snatcher cut in to be Mozenrath's next dance partner, as Roman engaged the Huntsman in a battle of skill and agility moving to the beat. As Aghoul…shredded.

"I know how to justify, and how to feed the myths!" Mozenrath sang out, laughing as he was spun across the floor to dance with Yzma next. "How to glorify the lies and hide the truth!"

Vexen rolled his eyes, unaware he was now speaking in rhythm: "His mouth is full of empty words…"

Mozenrath pointed to the Huntsman, to Roman, to Mim. "I have the right friends!"

"MAKING SHADY INSIDE DEALS!" Mim crowed.

Mozenrath gestured toward Snatcher, Yzma, Wuya. "Before the story ends, they will be out of tears!"

"Fools give the answers!" Snatcher sang, leading a dance that Yzma and Wuya copied while flanking him. "Wise men don't even try!"

"THE TIME HAS COME!" Yzma and Wuya chimed in. Then Yzma took the solo: "To dethrone him, but there's A NEW CLONE STEPPIN' IN!"

Roman, letting the energy overtake him, took center stage: "JUST MORE SCUUUUUM – "

He almost ruined the whole mood then and there with his attempt to hold a high note that wasn't even close. That was just a bridge too far, and even Vexen couldn't let that stand, so as Roman continued, "Another greedy – "

Vexen suddenly seized his mouth from behind, keeping it shut with his hand and finishing it for him: " – greedy, rotten puppet on a string!"

"YEAH!" the others all chorused. And Roman gave a thumbs-up, leading Vexen to wonder if he'd planned the whole thing.

The Huntsman now joined Aghoul in belting "KING FOR A DAY!"

"I kill the truth and look away!" Mozenrath twirled dreamily, hands up high.

"KING FOR A DAY!"

"Live like the world would end today!" Mozenrath flung out his right arm, casting an arc of glowing blue. Purely aesthetic dancing lights.

"KING FOR A DAY!"

Mim, Yzma, Wuya, and Snatcher stepped in flash-mob formation around Mozenrath, asking him, "What do you hide, why do you lie? Who made the rules for this game? Who is paying your champagne?"

"ALL THE MERCY IN THE WORLD CANNOT SAVE YOU ANYMORE!" Aghoul screamed. "KING FOR A DAY!"

On the next instrumental interlude, Roman had decided he'd had quite enough of not participating, and so broke into an ominous monologue: "He owns the seas. Has the Everrealm on its knees! Give him another day and he'll take your future away – and the best part is!"

"YOU DON'T GET A VOTE!" all nine of them screamed at once.

Vexen then realized what he'd done. So when the next "KING FOR A DAY!" was called out, he rolled his eyes and gave in, singing softly, "He kills the truth and looks away – "

Snatcher wasn't letting that happen. He swept Vexen in as his dance partner, and after Aghoul and the Huntsman gave the call again, Snatcher urged Vexen to harmonize with him: "Lives like the world would end today!"

"KING FOR A DAY!"

"What do you hide? Why do you lie?" Wuya and the Huntsman shimmied together, one a little bit more enthusiastically than the other.

"Who made the rules for this game?" Mim and Yzma gave each other dramatic shrugs, then pointing at one another to the beat.

"WHO IS PAYING YOUR CHAMPAGNE?" Aghoul leapt in the air and dropped to his knees, not missing a beat on the guitar.

By then, Mozenrath was even dancing solo, as uncoordinated and confused as ever, but very enthusiastic. And so Vexen saw nothing wrong with joining in for the final lines, when all nine formed a chorus: "All the mercy in the world cannot save you anymore! KING FOR A DAY!"

Aghoul then immediately gripped the guitar by the neck and smashed it on the floor. Bone fragments shattered every which way.

"I think that set the mood quite nicely," Mozenrath stated. "Now, let's get down to the real work."

The first order of business was to open up a can of liquid antimatter in order to mix it with anti-time particles. There was a slight debate between Mozenrath and Yzma over whether it was truly necessary to rinse the can lids first, but Roman and Vexen ended that by grabbing the cans and rinsing them anyway so there was nothing left to fight about. The solution was mixed, and Yzma poured it into a glass bottle onto which she screwed a spray top.

"We'll need a fire," Mozenrath declared. "Wuya, would you do the honors?"

"Why her?" Mim asked indignantly. "Why not me?"

"Because I don't want any of the lab burned down," Mozenrath told her, "and also, well. Her fire is such a lovely shade."

Wuya pointed at the center of the lab, and a shockingly green bonfire erupted on the tile, reaching half the height of her waist.

This was Yzma's cue to attack the fire with her spray bottle. "BAD fire! BAD! NO TREATS FOR YOU!"

It was at this point that Mozenrath read the proper incantation: "Imagery of flickering flame, of fire that spits and smokes! Your feverish dance is but a game, and time reveals the hoax! Salamander coat of luster, by the power of anti-clock, imagery of firey bluster – TURN AS COLD AND HARD AS ROCK!"

Upon coming in contact with the anti-time and the magic words, the fire froze, as though it were just a very delicate blown-glass sculpture of a fire. Mozenrath started plucking away flames. "Every Cold Fire can be pieced back together perfectly in the form of a cauldron," he explained. "It's about the only thing that can handle the volatile ingredients we're working with."

The downside, of course, being that trying to piece together a fire into a perfect glass cauldron with eight other people was just as bad as trying to do a jigsaw puzzle with eight other people.

"I SWEAR these are the right pieces!" Yzma growled as she tried to stick together what obviously weren't the right pieces.

"Do not BREAK the Cold Fire," the Huntsman warned her icily.

"Anyone find any edge pieces?" Roman asked. "Rim pieces? You know what I mean. The easy bits."

"All I know is Snatcher put that one in backwards," Aghoul noted.

"I beg your pardon!" Snatcher scoffed. "It's a perfect fit! You're just looking for any excuse to besmirch my – "

Wuya took the pieces from Snatcher, turned the awkward one all the way around, and snapped them together perfectly into a glass pane.

"…it would've worked my way," Snatcher insisted.

"Suuuuure," Wuya replied.

Eventually the cauldron, glimmering green glass made of frozen fire, was assembled. The seams where the flames had been pieced together glowed faintly blue as a signature of Mozenrath's incantation.

"Now," Mozenrath commanded. "I'm going to need the Cocytus ice, the Acheron fire, the Styx poison, and the Pyriphlegethon slime. Bring them to the lab sink."

Yzma brought the ice over, transferring its bottle from hand to hand to prevent the outer frost from getting into her skin; "WHY IS IT COLD?"

Snatcher was doing the same with the bottle of Acheron fire that practically burned. "WHY IS IT SO HOT?"

They both slammed their bottles at the edge of the sink, then backpedaled to get away from the temperature assault.

Roman then uncapped the Styx poison and took a whiff. Immediately light-headed, he passed out, forcing the Huntsman to rush in and grab the bottle so it wouldn't spill.

"Why would you do that?" the Huntsman asked Roman.

"I wanted to know how poisonous it was!" Roman replied, staring directly up at the ceiling. "Also, when did we get pink elephants?"

"I mean, I think that poison smells more delicious than the slime," Aghoul said, carrying the vial of viscous goop in question. "Do you mind – "

The Huntsman held it up high to keep it away from him. "No."

"Just one little taste – "

"IT'S NOT FOR YOU TO DRINK!"

So Aghoul put one hand on his lower back, and with a loud CRACK, snapped his waist back to his center of gravity so that he stood up straight. And in that instant, he'd gone from being hunched to below Mozenrath's height to a standing height that matched the Huntsman.

"…Did everyone else know he was actually tall, or is that news to me?" Yzma wondered aloud.

Aghoul grabbed for the poison. Vexen, however, got it first, hoisting the bottle high, and as he was the tallest in the room, he could keep it out of Aghoul's reach long enough to deliver it to Mozenrath's station. Aghoul begrudgingly passed along the slime.

Roman then burst out laughing. "BANANA PUDDING!"

"…The rest of you keep going," Yzma sighed. "I'm going to figure out if I can make an antidote for…whatever's in his system."

"Just hand him a bezoar," Mozenrath told her. "Presuming you have those."

"THE GOAT STOMACH RESIDUE?" Yzma yelled. "THAT'S why we have that?"

"How didn't you know that?" Wuya sighed. "I'll get it. You brew."

"I never realized how fucking funny shoes are," Roman said from the floor. "Also, I think one of my kidney's might've just failed." He found this hilarious.

Mozenrath blended the ice, fire, poison, and slime into a bubbling goo, then added it into the Cold Fire cauldron. He cleared his throat before reading the next part of the recipe: "Liquid money's what you need. Put ten grand in your account, stockpiled from a lifetime's greed and stolen to a large amount. Liquefy the interest only, three quarts and a quarter more: these you pour into the punch bowl. Don't get any on the floor."

"These rhymes sure are something," Aghoul commented.

"How are we to acquire magically liquid money?" the Huntsman asked. "As we've established, we have no money mage in our ranks."

"I know how to liquidate it," said Mim. "I just can't create it out of thin air. Get me someone else's dirty money and I can do the rest."

"Ten grand?" Mozenrath repeated. "I think we can swing that." He waved a hand, and stacks of bills piled up before him. "Or, more accurately, Tony Dracon can swing that. I mean, his card might get declined if he tries to take the shopkeeper on a date, but I'm sure that space cop she's also dating will pick up the bill." He snickered.

"I get it!" Mim laughed. "It's funny because he'll have to have his bill covered BY A LAW-ABIDING AUTHORITY."

She then set about liquidating the interest, pouring it in as a sparkling gold liquid. Roman, by then, was unpoisoned and asked, "What'd I miss? Also, why does my mouth taste like shit?"

"That's not what it tastes like," Wuya told him. "It's only the contents of the goat stomach that DIDN'T make it to that stage."

"I feel like you just did that to punish me for smelling the thing that, in my defense, I had to know what it smelled like," Roman said.

"That's not the defense you think it is," the Huntsman told him.

"I do not envy you in the slightest," Snatcher added. "After all, if I had the choice between eating haggis or perishing, I think I might pick death."

Wuya and the Huntsman gaped at him before asking as one, "IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK HAGGIS IS?"

"Is it…not?" Snatcher was perplexed.

"I mean, it might as well be," said Yzma.

Mozenrath looked over the recipe. "Next, it calls for crocodile tears, and I'll spare you the rhyme." He started emptying bottles into the cauldron. "I actually got the seventh one free. Omega Mart deals don't mess around."

"Neither does the meat," Aghoul added.

"Now, this is where it might get tricky," Mozenrath pointed out. "The brain jelly comes in here, but it has to be half the length of the brewer's favorite color. That gets complicated when there are nine of us."

He sat down at the computer, booting up an application for processing the values of the color spectrum into mathematics. "What we'll have to do is all state ours and use the accumulated average."

"Why can't we just use mine?" Yzma asked. "It's my lab!"

"Because that's not how it WORKS," Mozenrath told her. "But if you want to challenge the highly volatile potion recipe that could kill us all if we make one misstep, then be my guest!"

"…I'm good," Yzma decided.

"I'm volunteering royal blue," Mozenrath said. "George, what's yours?"

The Huntsman was silent.

"…George?"

"It's certainly hunter green," the Huntsman said quickly. "Yes. That's it."

Mozenrath input the value. "Yzma."

"Imperial purple," Yzma said flatly. "I'm not sure how you didn't know that."

"That was kind of a captain-obvious move on my part," Mozenrath admitted.

"I…may have made an error," said the Huntsman. "Can my value be changed to purple as well? Regal purple."

"Ah, two shades away from imperial," Mozenrath told him. "Also, that value is COMPLETELY different from hunter green. It's important that we get this right, George."

"I am aware," said the Huntsman.

"Wuya," Mozenrath commanded.

"The same green shade my fire is," Wuya told him.

"Snatcher?"

"Red," Snatcher answered. "Crimson, in fact. …Well, would you look at that? How far I've come! Before I knew the lot of you, I would've said pristine white, but now, oh, NOW I've finally learned that the most beautiful color is that of self – "

"Roman, color," Mozenrath commanded.

"Fiery orange," Roman said.

The Huntsman cleared his throat. "Switch it back to hunter green."

Mozenrath spun to regard the Huntsman with suspicion. "George…do you not know what your favorite color is?"

"I…erm…" the Huntsman shifted in place.

"You DON'T KNOW what your FAVORITE COLOR is?" Yzma scoffed.

"Oh, for shame!" Mim scolded.

"I was the one responsible for implementing both schemes into the Huntsclan uniforms!" the Huntsman spat. "When I was but a student, the uniforms were TAUPE. That could not stand. Once I ascended, I clothed us all in proper green. As time went on, however, it seemed the purple would better cut our image. And so I implemented the second change."

"I'm going to need a definitive favorite color," Mozenrath told him. "I regret that it had to come to this, but you're going to need to make a choice, and also, once you make that choice, actually commit to loving it more than the other color until this potion is done."

"Purple," said the Huntsman. "The answer is final."

"Mim," Mozenrath urged. "Color."

"Putrid," said Mim.

"Not a color," Mozenrath said, "but I feel like that's the only answer I'll get from you, so I'll use it. Aghoul – "

"Actually, the answer is green," the Huntsman said hurriedly. "I've decided on the green."

"GEORGE," Mozenrath groaned. "I'M BEING SERIOUS HERE."

"As am I!" the Huntsman snarled. "They are equally aesthetically pleasing colors! However, I have come to the conclusion that the green is but a hair more aesthetically pleasing."

"Aghoul, COLOR," Mozenrath said.

"The color a fresh corpse's face turns after a strangling," Aghoul said.

Mozenrath nodded, knowing exactly what color that was and inputting it. "Vexen, color."

"Ice blue," Vexen stated proudly.

"And with that…" Mozenrath's finger hovered over the enter key.

The Huntsman then realized everyone was staring at him. "What are you expecting from me?"

"For you to change your favorite color yet again," Vexen told him.

"The green is final!" the Huntsman insisted. "Mozenrath, run the data."

Mozenrath lowered his hand slightly.

"WAIT!" the Huntsman cried. "…No, it's the green. Run it."

Mozenrath punched the button before the Huntsman could change his mind again. "All right, we take the average, we divide it in half…" The Hellish Computer's screen was filled with ancient runes in bright orange font on a jet-black background. "And the value we get is…"

He grabbed a printout from the appropriate tray, looking it over. "Thirty-seven."

"Thirty-seven what?" Roman asked.

Mozenrath just walked over to get the brain jelly out of the specimen fridge.

"THIRTY-SEVEN WHAT?" Roman repeated. "I'm serious!"

Now, of course, in the grand tradition of recounting the tales of villains who have brewed this nasty concoction, the finer details shall be left out and many of the intricacies redacted. This is so that no reader can ever duplicate such a horrendous magic. (And, of course, because any hypothetical narrator of this tale has already had that knowledge barred from them by the first to document a brewing.) What can be told is that speaking in tongues, vivisecting an entire goose, and consecutive backflips were all involved in the process.

The instructions became more and more bizarre as time went on. For instance, now came the time to utilize the catafalcious polyglom by adding cathotymic flotion to it. Its circular floating motions were almost hypnotic, and Aghoul had to have hands clapped in his face so he would stop staring at it and go do something productive like filtering the shlemielized ectoplasm into the schizothalmic myrrh.

The potion bubbled, and as those bubbles broke the surface, they emitted sounds that resembled a mixed-gender choir singing demonic chords while simultaneously also burping. "I mean, you have to admit, the potion is a worse singer than I am," Roman laughed.

"No," Vexen told him flatly. "It isn't."

"Will you hurry up on those azipherized snorkels?" Mozenrath called out.

"I'm azipherizing as fast as I can!" Yzma yelled as she did exactly that.

"Oh, and Snatcher, you might not be the one to take those out of the thermostations," Mozenrath said once Snatcher had loaded the azipherized snorkels into the proper apparatuses.

"And why not?" Snatcher asked. "Because you think I'm not magically inclined enough to understand the process? Because you fear I'll ruin your hard work with my massive ineptitude?"

"That's not what I – "

The first thermostation beeped. Snatcher opened it up to retrieve the compound inside. "Because, as you can see, I am WELL equipped – "

"Snatcher, the thermostations were for a process we in the magic business call 'freezing to cheese,'" Mozenrath snapped. "Look at what you're holding."

Which was a wheel of brie. That had, somehow, previously been snorkels. Snatcher, looking down at it in his hand, could feel itching crawling up his palm and over his wrist. "I'll, er…leave this to Miss Wuya, then," he said as he stepped away, digging his fingernails into where the hives were breaking out.

There was an explosion from across the room. "WHICH ONE OF YOU OVERINFLATED THE SCLEROSIS SAMPLES?" Vexen yelled.

Mim and Aghoul pointed at each other, wide-eyed.

"That answers my question," Vexen sighed. "Thankfully, there are more in fridge number five. Snatcher, will you – "

Snatcher was biting his hand in a vain attempt to stem the itching before any injection was required.

"YZMA, will you take over the sclerosis inflation?" Vexen corrected.

"Bad news," said Yzma. "Our criminoil is three years expired."

"That's on purpose," Mozenrath said as he dipped litmus sheets into the mixture so far. "Defective criminoil is required. It's right there in the recipe."

Wuya was reading the recipe at that very moment. "Looks like now's when we need to break out those chimera saws – "

Aghoul, Mim, and Roman almost fell over each other racing for the blades.

"Save some for me, will you?" Wuya snapped.

With more of the complex steps completed, the potion crusted over with galaxyparallaxywax. Vexen carefully scraped a sample of it and applied it to an asdrubal petri dish, watching as the mixture inside was corrupted to the absolute largest minimum possible. "We're on track."

The Hellish computer printed schematic after schematic. Then the printer jammed, as printers from Hell are wont to do, and Mim suggested fixing the problem by smashing it with a hammer. Yzma loved this idea and literally everyone else vetoed it. Snatcher was eventually able to get the printer working properly again, at which point he proclaimed "WHO'S THE SUPERIOR INVENTOR NOW, TRUBSHAW?".

"…Does he really want me to give a literal answer to that question?" Vexen asked.

"Of course not," Yzma groaned. "Also, am I going to get to smash ANYTHING with the hammer today?"

"Jury is out," Vexen told her.

At a particular interval, the nine gathered around the cauldron. "This next part has to be done in total weightlessness," Mozenrath stated. "We're all going to be floating. Try not to make too much of a commotion."

"You don't have to look at me when you say that," Wuya told him. "I've been floating and flying for millennia. It's these other gravity slaves you have to worry about."

"Not me!" Mim insisted, folding her arms.

"Gravity is more of a suggestion for me than a law," Aghoul added.

"I'm going to be keeping my eye on you three in particular," Mozenrath said, "because the others I can understand ending up in some kind of slapstick sequence, but you three would be doing it on purpose."

With no further word, he shot a bolt of magic at an antigravity generator that Vexen had helped him obtain. The gravity was sucked out of the room – a phenomenon that looked like a dark sphere collapsing in on the generator – and suddenly, everything not fastened down was floating, including the nine villains themselves. The potion floated out of its cauldron in a delicate, undulating sphere.

"And now," Mozenrath said as he levitated the perversion particles toward himself, "we – "

He floated a bit too high and thumped his head on the ceiling. "OW!"

Wuya, Mim, and Aghoul were already in stitches. "Yes, WE'RE the ones you need to keep an eye on," Wuya snickered.

"You have no right!" the Huntsman barked. "Cease your mockery this – "

His own head crashed into the ceiling. That made the laughter worse.

Yzma, Roman, Snatcher, and Vexen were having struggles of their own. Yzma drifted too close to Roman, knocking into him, and like a croquet ball, he was sent to collide with Snatcher, and the both of them practically bowled down Vexen.

"Why you – " Vexen gritted his teeth. "If I knew Gravity – "

"You wouldn't DARE cast it now," Wuya told him.

Finally, Mozenrath had the perversion particles open and was feeding them into the sphere of potion with his magical abilities. "Mim, hit the generator quick once I'm done with this," he said.

"And what if I don't want to?" Mim asked.

"Then you can deal with the fallout if we're not on the ground in time," Mozenrath stated. "This is about the stage when there's a mild risk of the potion transforming into a large and very aggressive amoeba, and that's going to be easier to deal with on the floor than in the air."

"An amoeba?" Aghoul said. "I want to see that!"

"You can see it from the floor," Mozenrath told him.

"A single-celled organism that large?" Vexen scoffed. "Scientifically impossible!"

"But not magically impossible," Mozenrath reminded him – not noticing that his perversion particles had run out. "Don't try to apply the usual principles here. That won't work."

"Oh, by the way," said Wuya.

"What is it?" Mozenrath asked her.

She pointed twice to the giant amoeba that floated where the potion had been.

With a slimy growl, the amoeba took off after Mim, who gave a screech and shot through the air, letting the amoeba chase her around the room.

"GENERATOR!" Mozenrath yelled at her.

"BUSY AT THE MOMENT!" Mim yelled back.

"WHY CAN'T YOU HIT IT?" Vexen screamed as he backflipped against his will.

That question was answered when the amoeba split in two and the second half started to chase Mozenrath. "BECAUSE NOW IT'S AFTER ME TOO!"

He smacked into Yzma, Roman, and Snatcher like a bowling ball against a triad of pins, sending all three of them spinning head over heels. Vexen was now upside-down, flailing helplessly to try and get reoriented. The amoeba's two halves divided yet again, creating more hungry creatures.

The Huntsman spun his staff. "Hold STILL!" he commanded as he aimed at one amoeba, then changed his mind and chose another, then changed his mind and –

"Good job!" Wuya yelled. "It's definitely going to do what you tell it to!"

"I don't need your sarcasm!" The Huntsman was drifting off course, his aim unsteady due to having no footing. "Your ASSISTANCE would be more valuable!"

Aghoul and Wuya didn't need to be told twice. They zoomed around to each take one of the Huntsman's arms, steering him around the room. He systematically rounded up each amoeba, not actually striking any of them (that might have compromised the potion) but using the glowing huntstaff to intimidate them back into the bowl. The first two to re-enter the cauldron realized there was easier prey right in front of them: each other. Once the brawl began, the rest of the amoebas joined in.

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" Mim cheered.

Mozenrath finally had enough presence of mind to switch off the gravity generator; the dark orb of gravity was returned to the room, and everyone hit the ground hard and suddenly. In the bowl, the cannibalism continued until the amoebas had completely eaten each other up and become a harmless potion again.

Roman drew the Cudgel and trained it on the cauldron. "I don't trust it," he stated. "That thing's sitting and waiting. I know it."

"It's fine," said Mozenrath.

"Famous last words," Roman told him. "I'm on guard duty from here out."

"I mean, if it keeps him out of our hair," Yzma said.

Mozenrath retrieved the recipe. "Now, here's the part where we actually infuse the magic into the – "

"You mean to tell me ALL THAT wasn't the magic?" Snatcher asked in disbelief.

"It was within the field of magic," Mozenrath told him, "but that was to prepare a base that could hold the amount of magic we infuse into the potion. In this sense, the 'magic' refers to the part that causes an effect. The active ingredient, if you will."

"Let's see here." Mim swiped the next page of the recipe. "If you're the boss, take hobgoblin floss, spun from three fairies so hostile. Puffin a glass, the billowing gas, through two ecstatical nostrils…"

"Hobgoblin floss," Vexen muttered. "Did we purchase that?"

"Oh, don't take this part so literally!" Mim told him. "I forget sometimes that the young'ins don't know gibberwitch these days."

"I thought everyone knew gibberwitch," Aghoul scoffed.

"Gibberwitch, yes," said Wuya. "That is definitely a language that I mastered."

Mim and Aghoul fired her suspicious glares.

"…Or would have mastered if I hadn't been interrupted by a puzzle box," Wuya grumbled.

"You had plenty of time before that!" Aghoul chided. "There's no excuse!"

"Okay, I'll bite," Mozenrath sighed. "What's gibberwitch?"

"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW?" Mim was agape. "I thought you of all people would have some idea!"

"Well, I thought Vexen might have been versed at least slightly," said Aghoul, "but he's already proven that theory wrong."

"Will you just explain what you're talking about?" Vexen spat.

"In gibberwitch, every word means something else," said Mim. "A 'globe' is a 'boy,' a 'barrel' is a 'girl,' and 'bursting at the seams' is 'taking a walk.' Nothing's what it seems, and you have to know which word is which. There's no universal cipher; it's all memorization. For instance, 'If you're the boss, take hobgoblin floss.' That means 'When the potion is still, cast fire on the wind.'"

"How was ANYONE supposed to get that out of 'hobgoblin floss'?" Vexen asked.

"If you have to ask," Mim said, "then you're missing the point."

"Well, then, it's a good thing we have you here to translate," Mozenrath said. "If you would be so unkind – "

"Now, wait just a minute," Mim said. "You thought the gibberwitch was literal. Does that mean you ACTUALLY bought hobgoblin floss?"

"…It was two for $√2 at Omega Mart," Mozenrath muttered.

"We can put it to good use," Yzma said. "We'll just dump it on the Isle of Hobgoblins and claim it's an act of charity. That ought to be some good PR for us that might stem a revolution for another week or so."

"How many of these other things did you buy?" Mim asked. "The lumps? The corks? The pickles? DID YOU INFUSE YOUR THIGH WITH AN ALARM?"

"Admittedly, that last part, I knew was a mistranslation of some kind," Mozenrath said. "I was relying on your collective knowledge to clear that up. We do, however, now have a surplus of lumps, corks, and pickles."

"We'll just throw those at the hobgoblins too," Yzma decided. "They like those things, right?"

"No," the Huntsman said. "They won't appreciate it one bit, and will likely hasten the next revolt. If you want to dispose of lumps, you give them to leviathans. Corks will be good to have on hand in this very laboratory."

"And I can and will eat all the pickles," Roman said. "Just give me a week."

"Pickles," Snatcher grumbled. "An item to be destroyed with great prejudice."

"I promise, I'm gonna pretend I'm biting the head off your ex-henchman every time," Roman said. Still keeping the Cudgel aimed toward the potion, which was very obviously not trying to eat anyone.

Mozenrath sighed. "All right. Magic users to the inner circle. Everyone else to the edge."

He, Aghoul, Mim, and Wuya stepped closer to the cauldron. Roman, Snatcher, Yzma, and the Huntsman stepped back.

"Will ice be required?" Vexen asked, not sure which tier he belonged in.

"Some," Mim said. "Might as well get close. As for the rest of you, get ready, because you're about to see the best and brightest light show of your life!"

She and Aghoul called out the instructions. All Wuya could do was affirm that yes, every fortieth instruction or so was correct. The rest of the lab went dark on its own when the four mages started casting. Mim hadn't been kidding about the light show. They conjured cyclones of fire, as Mim had translated for the first step, that combined themselves together and funneled down toward the bowl, only to be intercepted by a disembodied raven's beak, and Mim assured that meant they were doing it right. Cloud patterns formed beneath the ceiling. Animal skeletons galloped across the floor and transformed into snakes. There were creatures of all kinds after that – half-human hybrids, Fair Folk with exaggerated features, enormous insects. Snatcher, curious, reached out to try and touch an emaciated horse that looked like it should have belonged to a reaper or a herald of the apocalypse. His hand phased straight through it. Only an illusion. But when the hourglass appeared, sand falling upward to signify time in reverse – he brushed the cold glass. That one was real. Some were physical and some only illusions, giant eggs and spidery fingers and sea creatures on fire and machines that walked toward the bowl of their own accord –

Vexen had practically left reality a while ago. The fire was just a bit too much – he let it all blur, let it become colors and shapes, concentrating as hard as he could on one of Deymos' favorite tracks from the mansion sessions. It was all so hallucinogenic in appearance that it didn't even feel so wrong to be lost, to be out of his own body. As time distanced him from the fire, the images became clearer and clearer, but nonetheless, he wasn't yet convinced he'd made it back to consciousness.

Wuya elbowed him in the forearm. He realized that it all was real, that it all had happened, and he'd just happened to miss quite a bit of it. "You're up," Wuya informed him.

Now all four mages were creating a mass of snow-white feathers. Vexen fed ice into it, creating icy tips to each individual feather, mingling fiber and frost as the feathers arranged themselves into massive wings.

As the illusion of the eagle took shape, Roman dared himself to stare it down, to not think about it suddenly turning on him and putting him through…that…all over again. He wasn't doing the best job, but still he remained, muttering to himself, "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fucking fine – "

A pair of hands lay very gently on his forearms from behind. "Impressive sight, isn't it?" Snatcher whispered right in his hear. "Beautiful and terrible."

Roman leaned back into him, just a little. "Yeah. Probably a once-in-a-lifetime deal." A pause. "I'm fine."

"I know."

"But I didn't say – "

" – to let go. I know." With one hand, Snatcher kept his grip, but the other smoothed over Roman's arm and onto his back, tracing a slow path.

Maybe the bird was nothing to worry about. It collapsed in a flurry and rained into the Cold Fire cauldron.

Again and again, as conjuration after conjuration entered the fluid, the potion turned blood crimson and boiled so hot that a wave of oppressive heat briefly pulsed through the room, only to cool back down to tolerable levels in preparation for the next spell. The Huntsman was enraptured, never having recalled seeing this much magic in one place before, no matter how much he raided his home city's underground. It reminded him that as much as he'd thought he could distance himself from magical creatures, magic was tied to him by the very idea of him becoming its enemy. He'd become so versed in what he wanted to hunt and kill that he knew how so much of this worked, recognized so many of these incantations. It wasn't a shameful realization, but one of pride. After all, only now was he making them work for him.

Yzma's head swam. The apparitions were beginning to look a little impossible. There was that trident she'd seen in many a jest of an illustration, with a two-pronged base but three points, the third seeming to materialize from the negative space. A set of Penrose stairs. An elephant whose feet were situated at the gaps between its legs rather than the legs themselves. Luckily, she didn't have to be confused by these too long, for they were the first signal that the process was coming to an end.

Mim and Wuya realized at the same time what would happen, eyes meeting across the cauldron. Mim was glad Wuya had figured it out, as she hadn't wanted to actually be nice about it. Wuya hadn't particularly wanted to do so either, but while looking at Mim, she knew that if either of the two moved, it would be her.

As her second to last spell, she flicked a hand toward Vexen, blindfolding him and putting him in a pair of earmuffs that completely silenced his world. He staggered backward, crying out, "WHAT – "

The Notion Potion exploded. Not destructively – it was just a magical chemical reaction, a great shockwave and a roar of flame – but later, when Vexen learned what exactly it was he'd been censored from, he wouldn't envy those who'd seen it.

Of course, to Roman, this was the best way it could have ended, and as the lights brightened again, he was literally applauding that finale.

"Tell me it's over," Yzma mumbled.

Wuya flashed her a thumbs-up. "Mission complete."

Vexen finally tore away the blindfold and earmuffs. "WHAT WAS THE MEANING OF THAT?"

"Just trust it," Mozenrath told him. "You don't want to know."

"I most certainly DO – "

"Then I'll explain after this potion is complete," Mozenrath stated calmly.

Vexen had to accept that. Better late than never. Not that he was happy about it.

"I haven't had a conjuring session that intense in such a long time!" Mim cackled, dancing around the room in order to release the euphoria that had built up inside of her. "Really makes a girl feel young again! Why, if you asked me, I wouldn't say I'm a day over a hundred!"

She took Aghoul by the hands and began to whirl him about as though on a dance floor, and he laughed, giving in and being led.

"Is that the completion?" the Huntsman asked, unable to keep reverence out of his voice. "It's finished?"

"Oh, not by a long shot!" Aghoul laughed as he kept dancing with Mim. "The last part of the recipe is the hardest, you know! Mozenrath, pick up that page you weren't able to translate."

"What makes you say there's a page I wasn't able to translate?" Mozenrath raised a brow at him.

"Because there is," Aghoul told him. "You really have to learn to step back and let the old-timers do what they do best."

Mozenrath was about to argue, but decided it really wasn't worth it. He levitated that page over to Aghoul. "The cipher worked on the letters, but they don't spell anything."

"I disagree," Aghoul stated. "It says here, very clearly, 'Hackamordax furycrass zuckez crackabula weirdafitz drac hornahiss – '"

"I KNOW what it says," Mozenrath interrupted before Aghoul could read off the whole thing. "And yes. It sounds like words, and I'm sure if you say it enough times in a row, it starts to make sense, like that time Wuya tricked me into saying that no, I didn't see any reason to put our enemies through a fate involving 'youth in Asia' and would rather avoid that."

Wuya snorted. "You have to admit that was funny. The look on your face when you realized you agreed to NOT put Aladdin through euthanasia."

"Or that time Mim told me she was thinking of drafting a new recruit," Mozenrath went on, "and stated her name very clearly as well as making it clear she wasn't the same person as a particular founder we already had – "

"Oh, yes, when you said, 'Yes, I want Amanda Hugandkiss, and I know it's not George'!" Mim was losing it. "Such good memories."

"OR the time that Roman found out about this, insisted the woman's nickname was Amy, and made a big deal out of looking for her," Mozenrath grumbled. "That one, we won't – "

"'If you seek Amy' is one of the oldest ones in the book," Roman said with a dramatic grin, "and I can't believe, to this day, that I got you to say it."

"Do I want to know…?" Vexen asked, unsure at first what that one meant. Then it clicked. "You are crass."

Roman clicked his tongue and winked in response.

"Well, this time, it's different," said Aghoul. "This time, the recipe is written in Exorbitanian, so you won't get anywhere trying to turn it into an oronym. We'll need to do something a little different. I hope you remembered to pick up a lot of upstud for this one."

Without missing a beat, Mozenrath and Vexen both asked, "What's upstud?"

"Why, I'm doing just fine!" Aghoul answered, and Wuya, Mim, Roman, and Snatcher burst into hysterics.

"WHY WOULD YOU FALL FOR THAT?" Yzma yelled. "WE WERE LITERALLY TALKING ABOUT WORDPLAY, AND YOU FELL FOR THAT!"

"Not my proudest moment," Mozenrath seethed. "Now. The REAL explanation. No wordplay."

Vexen had gone completely silent out of rage and was just resolving to let the rest of this play out.

"No, what we'll REALLY need is a particular compound that I happen to keep on me for a rainy day…" Aghoul withdrew a vial. "This is an old-fashioned drug, the type you used to go for if you wanted a REAL good time that neither opium nor swallowing poison-dart frogs could provide."

"I'm sorry, you ate what?" Wuya asked.

"It comes straight from the bowels of Hell," Aghoul said. "They call it Lucifer's Somersault Dimensionale."

Two people in the room recognized the letters. At the same time that Vexen (breaking his resolve immediately) said "Lysergic acid diethylamide?", Roman said "Lucidity shifting Dust?". Then the two looked to one another.

"It's a hallucinogen," Vexen explained.

"So is mine," said Roman. "Huh."

"The similarities and differences between our worlds never fail to mystify," the Huntsman stated.

"Yes, but THIS one has them both beat." Aghoul stroked the vial. "Those two will just give you a GLIMPSE into the Fourth Dimension. This will literally take you there. It's got magic, you know."

Roman held up a hand. "So you're saying that when I've been on the real strong highs, the shit I see is actually a peek into another world?"

"Dimension, not world," Aghoul corrected. "It's much, MUCH bigger than you'd think. But yes, there's an entire dimension where everything you've ever seen while in a psychedelic state is real."

Roman pointed at Yzma. "I knew it. I KNEW it. You – "

"I know!" Yzma groaned, digging a small coin purse out of her enchanted bag. "But in my defense, how was I supposed to guess any of that at all?" She tossed the bag to Roman. "Here I was thinking this would be the easiest bet I ever won."

"When and why did you two bet on whether psychedelic hallucinations were – " Mozenrath stopped himself there. "No. I'm not asking that question, because it will make exactly as much sense in context as it does now."

Roman and Yzma both nodded.

"Anyway, we've got to take a little trip to the Fourth Dimension in order to finish the potion," Aghoul said. "Or some of us have got to, at any rate. I get the feeling there are certain stiffs here who couldn't handle it." He looked directly at Vexen.

"While I don't appreciate your insinuations of my character," Vexen replied, "I also have no desire to mess around in a hallucinogenic dimension. That's just asking for trouble. I will stay here where things make sense, thank you very much."

"Well, I'm going," said Mozenrath.

"No, you're not!" Aghoul barked. "This is highly addictive, and we all know how you get when you taste something you desire. Your right hand is living proof. I let you have one hit of this and our entire mission becomes derailed while you try to accumulate a million years' supply at once and I never get any to myself again. The only mages I trust with this are myself and Mim."

"Any non-mages?" Roman asked.

Aghoul and Mim looked to one another. "Oh, what the blazes," Mim chuckled. "You've already apparently seen enough of it to not be surprised."

"And I know my limits with that stuff," Roman said. "Or, you know, the regular version. I've known a few Spiders who went too far with it and saw some real shit. And now I am very, VERY aware that's because they accidentally wandered into the Eldritch part of the dimension."

"Now you're getting it," Aghoul told him. "You already have enough issues with birds and deep water. You don't need existential dread and paranoia on top of it. Or to look the Ever-Nebulous Miasma in the third eye."

"I don't have issues with either of those things," Roman told him. "I did. But now I'm over it."

"Well, that's a bald-faced lie," said Wuya, "but you come by it naturally, given who you're pretty much married to."

"Can we just get this over with?" Mozenrath sighed. "Aghoul, Mim, and Roman are apparently the ones who are getting high enough to actually finish this recipe. Just don't mess up the timing this time, because the MINUTE the last step is done – "

"We go into the no-question zone," Mim said. "You have nothing to worry about."

"I thought I had nothing to worry about with the amoeba," said Mozenrath.

"The Fourth Dimension has a different time flow," Aghoul explained. "We'll be back here before we're even done being over there."

"Not physically possible," Vexen muttered.

"Has that mattered at any point during this venture?" the Huntsman asked him.

Wuya conjured up three chaise longues. Mim and Roman lay down on two of them, and Aghoul proceeded to inject them both sequentially with the drug. The moment Mim was dosed, she disappeared completely, and Roman followed.

"Hm, hope I've got the dose right," Aghoul muttered. "After all, a miscalculation could've sent them to the SECOND Dimension instead of the Fourth, and, well, Flatland's gone to the dogs ever since that thing…you know that thing that the Illuminati adopted as their sigil on a couple worlds? That thing. He took over. I'm sure Discord knows him. I sure don't want to have to haggle with him to get back two of our own who are pressed flat as sheets of paper…"

"WHY WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING THAT OMINOUS AFTER YOU ALREADY INJECTED THEM?" Mozenrath yelled.

Aghoul's response was "Que sera, sera" and to shoot up himself, vanishing from view.

"…I'm not certain I trust him," Snatcher voiced. "His intentions and loyalty, certainly, but not his ability to measure dosages."

"We have little choice," said the Huntsman. "…Do you suppose there is a Fifth or Sixth Dimension?"

"If the Fourth is made up of psychedelics and hallucinations," Vexen stated, "I don't believe we need to scratch the surface of anything beyond that."

"Hold on!" Yzma scurred over to the Cold Fire cauldron. "Something's happening!"

The potion was being stirred. It glimmered and splashed, as though someone was still adding to it.

"…They're actually accessing it from another dimension," Mozenrath realized. "They're…brewing something that's HERE while they're over THERE. That's admittedly very impressive."

It wasn't long before all three of them returned. "That was WILD!" Roman yelled. "You all SERIOUSLY missed out over here."

"I don't believe I did," Vexen stated flatly.

"I mean, I WANTED to go – " Mozenrath attempted.

"Righty," Roman said, "there are certain people I won't ever give any of my private supply to because I KNOW they'll devour it like it's fuel for a bad-decisions machine. You're top of the list. You didn't miss out so much as you did us all a service by not going along." He clapped both hands together. "Anyway, you wouldn't BELIEVE the stuff I saw! Okay, so I swear I didn't look at it, I'm not THAT dumb, but when Corpsey said that stuff about the Miasma and its third eye, he meant, like, eye of a storm, not like in a face…"

"We don't have time for this!" Yzma snapped. "Any moment now, we need to be asleep!"

"We have a grace period," said Aghoul. "Like I said. In terms of Fourth Dimension time, we're still over there completing those extra steps for the potion. That said, we should probably all slip into the void about now just to be safe."

Roman nudged Snatcher. "I'm telling you EVERYTHING later, whether you want it or not."

"Oh, you're not to leave out a single detail," Snatcher responded with a grin.

More chaises were conjured. From his position atop one, Aghoul called out, "Empty your minds as best you can. There's nothing but the sound of my voice. Imagine only what I tell you to. Visualize only what I say…"

That might have been a challenge for eight such easily distractible minds, but Aghoul released a glittering powder of magic into the air to help lull them, to put them into a dreamless sleep until awakened. He guided them down an imaginary spiral staircase with exactly forty steps.

"Three…two…" Aghoul yawned, casting the glitter onto his own face as he lay down on his chaise. "One."

As the potion's brewing ground to a halt, he and the others slid right into an all-consuming darkness.

...

The next thing any of them knew was a massive splash of cold water to the face. Mozenrath sat up screaming, as did Yzma, Roman, Snatcher, Vexen, and the Huntsman. Mim and Aghoul just laughed, and Wuya rolled over and grumbled, "Five more minutes."

"Up and at 'em, sleepyhead!" said Deymos, the source of the water. He waved a hand, and a small wave of water shoved Wuya off her chaise, forcing her to admit wakefulness.

"You couldn't have woken us ANY other way but that," Mozenrath snarled.

"No, we all know I could've," said Deymos. "But this way was so much more fun. Back me up, Vex."

"You're not going to defend this," Mozenrath grumbled.

"…We were in a deep magical sleep akin to a curse," Vexen said. "Startling as it was, it may have been the only effective method outside of someone performing True Love's Kiss, and both Roman and Mr. Snatcher were unconscious – "

"WILL YOU LET THAT GO?" Roman yelled as Snatcher chimed in with "BASELESS ACCUSATIONS!"

"The point is, we're all very awake, and that was the point," Vexen stated.

"Knew you'd have my back," Deymos said smugly. "Also, you totally loved that it made you feel extra alive for two seconds."

"Don't push it," Vexen warned him.

"Anyway, how'd the thing turn out?" Deymos asked. "I mean, we're all alive, so obviously it didn't explode."

"After the amount of questions that were voiced just now," Mozenrath pointed out, "either the potion was a success, or we blundered it so badly that it's just toxic waste we can't even use."

After a moment's pause, everyone, Deymos included, scurred over to the Cold Fire cauldron to see the results of their labor.

The liquid inside was as tempting as ambrosia, somehow lighter than water without being at all gaseous. It sparkled and shimmered with an opalescent prism, all colors of the rainbow, silvery at the base.

"That's it," Mozenrath stated. "We've done it. That's our key to tricking the chosen poor sap to holding down these islands while we move to the next phase."

"And without even needing a dragonweigh," the Huntsman said.

"Up to thirty-one thousand pounds," Mozenrath said immediately. "Not to burst your bubble, but I know that joke."

The Huntsman swung a fist lightly through the air in frustration.

"The POINT is we have the potion now," Mozenrath reiterated.

"And you're sure we can't, you know, make some wishes ourselves?" Yzma asked. "Just to get ahead?"

Even as she asked, everyone else remembered what had happened when they'd asked the Source to give them what they wanted, back in Cecelia Dram's factories.

"Or maybe just to wish that I'm not, at this very moment in time, holding one single, solitary jar of peanut butter," Yzma said, proving she'd learned the lesson.