Cambridge, Great Britain

There was a part of Moffitt that wondered if he should be ashamed of the fact that his first thought upon returning home was that he was looking forward to a good cup of tea, instead of seeing his wife. The tea at the pub back in Scotland tasted like it had been steeped in a blend of salt and fish oil—well, that was what he thought. Millington insisted it was fine, and Jules was terrified about getting involved when it was plainly obvious that his father was angry about the quality of tea. Moffitt ranked that tea just a step above Troy's "tea," because at least the Scottish pub tea was liquid rather than sludge.

He didn't have to worry about choosing, as Vanora chose for him. As soon as Moffitt opened the door, he was grabbed in a hug. Vanora squeezed him tightly before standing on her toes to press her lips against his in a long and passionate kiss. He hugged her back, keeping the kiss going as long as he could hold his breath. Tea could wait, at least for now, as holding the woman he loved and would love for the rest of his life felt so good.

They pulled apart slowly. The happy voices of Troy, Dietrich, Hitch, and Tully greeting Jules and admiring the silver sword didn't draw Moffitt's attention away from his wife. "Well," he said with a slight grin, "I can tell you missed me, darling."

"Of course I did, love. I was worried about you," Vanora said.

"The magpies never came after us. I was quite worried about you as well."

"We were left alone, thankfully."

"Good." Moffitt gave Vanora another hug. "This is it, darling. We have the sword. We just need Jules to learn how to use it, and then… then we're off to the magpies' castle."

Vanora kept her arms around Moffitt's neck. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, Jack, but… is there anything I can do there?"

"I'm not sure. You've never held a gun and you have no magic. We haven't even formed a battle plan yet. It's bad enough Jules will be in danger. I don't want you in danger, either."

Vanora nodded. "I don't want to do nothing, though."

"I know. If something comes up, maybe, but for now…" Moffitt shook his head.

"Alright. How long do you want Jules to practice?"

"Until he gets confident with the sword."

"That could take months!"

"I doubt it. I'm not going to make him practice from sunup to sundown, but I'm going to do my best to help him learn as quickly as possible."

"Okay." Vanora kissed her husband's cheek. "You're probably tired—and you smell like the sea. Go shower and have your tea."

Moffitt grinned again. "You smell lovely."

"I smell awful! I've been working in the bloody garden all day!"

"Exactly! You smell like flowers."

Vanora sighed before nudging her husband toward the bathroom. "Go on, love. I'll have your tea ready."

"I love you." Moffitt kissed Vanora again before heading off to get a change of clothes and go in the bathroom. Having a real shower was much preferable to the constant spray of salty seawater. He took his time in the shower, only getting out when he could no longer smell the ocean. He was horrified to find the growth of stubble on his face, and couldn't believe Vanora had been able to kiss him without being pricked. His first order of business upon getting out of the shower was a thorough shave.

He was half-finished with shaving when someone knocked on the bathroom door. After making sure his towel was secured around his waist, Moffitt said, "Enter!"

Troy peered into the bathroom. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No. If I say 'enter,' then you may enter," Moffitt replied. "What is it?"

"Have you been having any weird dreams lately?"

That was certainly a strange topic to open with. No "hello" or "how are you" or "how was your trip." Then again, Moffitt didn't expect anything less from Troy. "Shockingly, I haven't had any weird dreams lately. Why?"

"Huh. Out of all of us, I'd think you would be having these dreams, too, because they involve snakes."

Moffitt paused mid-stroke down his right cheek, and turned to Troy. "Who's dreaming about snakes?"

"Hitch and Dietrich, and I guess you can count me."

"What exactly are you dreaming about?"

"Well, for Hitch, it started as a recurring nightmare about the coral snake bite from four years ago, and then it slowly changed into him experiencing a mamba bite while in Dietrich's body. Dietrich's been dreaming the same thing, except it started as him experiencing symptoms, and then he actually felt the snake in his dream last night. I've been dreaming about running from a storm as a jackal, and then last night, I dreamt I was pulling Dietrich out of the river."

"It's funny you mention mambas because Millington and I discussed the possibility of Mahlah accompanying us to the castle. Mambas do hunt birds in the wild, and he performed exceptionally well when the zoology department was attacked a few weeks back. He's intelligent, quite tame for a member of his species, and very attached to me. I doubt he would cause problems." Moffitt focused on shaving for a moment. "Did you or anyone else consider the possibility that these dreams are the work of the magpies?"

"Not really. The magpies have only bothered Dietrich while he's awake, and you mentioned that he saw through an illusion when you guys were out looking for Jules. I didn't think it was possible for them to get to him in dreams after that."

"Maybe they never tried until now, and I imagine they're going to get worse now that we have the sword."

"Maybe the damn ravens should've stuck around so the damn magpies wouldn't find out we have the sword," Troy growled.

"Even though you badly need a babysitter sometimes, Troy, that's not the ravens' purpose. They gave us a chance to rest, but now it's back to solving this once and for all. That means we have to put up with the magpies harassing us."

"Fine. Then I'm going to go on night watch until Jules is ready to fight the little winged bastards."

"No, you're not."

"Why?"

"Because you need to sleep just like everyone else. I'm not opposed to a night watch, but we need to set up shifts so people can sleep." Moffitt stopped talking in order to shave his upper lip.

Troy sighed. "You know what? We're wasting time. We should just go, raise hell, and get this over with."

He's frustrated. Don't feed it, Moffitt thought. He didn't respond until he was finished shaving. He closely inspected his face, making sure not a single bit of stubble was left.

"Are you even listening to me?" Troy asked.

"No." Moffitt began rinsing his razor. "You're frustrated and I'm not about to make things worse."

"I'm more than just frustrated. Your own son is in danger, and you're acting like waiting around and play-fencing is going to help! There's no technique when it comes to fighting birds with a damn bladed weapon! It's complete bullcrap, written long before guns were invented! You can just wave the stupid thing around and stun them! It's useless, stupid, inefficient, and just more magical mumbo-jumbo that doesn't have a damn clue how to get things done! You know what would be more useful? Making silver-alloy pellets to load in the shotguns. That would be more practical than a sword."

Moffitt glanced at Troy while opening the medicine cabinet to get his aftershave lotion. He wasn't sure how to respond to Troy's outburst. It wasn't exactly a new occurrence when it came to things related to the supernatural. He wanted to say that Troy had a point, but he also knew better than anyone that messing around with the supernatural didn't yield good results. It had its ways and methods and would stick with them no matter what civilizations rose and fell, no matter what technology the Magicless developed.

Fortunately, Moffitt was spared from having to try responding, as Dietrich had overheard everything and ordered Troy to go outside. "I think he is upset because people he cares about are in danger and he cannot do anything about it," Dietrich said. "It is not your fault."

"I know," Moffitt replied.

"Several days ago, you would have been a complete mess, assuming it is your fault."

"Yes, I would." Moffitt squeezed a bit of the lotion in his hand, and began rubbing the lotion on his freshly shaved face while looking at Dietrich in the mirror. "We don't have time to go make silver-alloy pellets. It's not—"

"I would not take what Troy says seriously," Dietrich interrupted. "He needs to calm down first. I will go help him when I am finished here."

"Alright."

Dietrich leaned against the doorway, looking deep in thought. "Did Troy tell you about the dreams some of us have been having?"

"He did. I suggested the magpies are messing with you."

"That would make sense, although that does make things quite concerning. The dreams I have been having feel very much like visions."

"Well, either they are visions, or the magpies are getting more aggressive in their harassment of us." Moffitt looked over his face again after washing the lotion's residue from his hands. Oh, that feels better, and it'll be so much better for Vanora. "I'm inclined to believe the dreams are the result of magpies."

"In that case, I need to learn how to keep them from entering my mind."

"Try if you want, but I'm hoping it won't be too long before we go to the castle and defeat the magpies. Then, we won't have to worry about this ever again."

Dietrich nodded. "We will need a battle plan. Are there any maps of the castle?"

"There should be at the university. I can ask Professor Riverty about it tomorrow."

"I already know Troy will want to blindly run in."

"Of course he will. You're an officer. You should be in command."

"When has rank ever stopped Troy from doing anything?"

Moffitt sighed. "Never. Poor Boggs got used to Troy's nonsense pretty quickly. He liked Troy's out-of-the-box thinking most of the time, but sometimes he wished Troy would tone it back a little."

"Even during the war, I felt sorry for whoever your commanding officer was. I cannot imagine dealing with Troy as a subordinate was easy."

"It wasn't." Moffitt glanced down at the towel around his waist. "If you'll excuse me, Dietrich, I have to get dressed, and then we can continue this conversation."

"That is alright. I will go deal with Troy and see if I can get him to calm down." Dietrich left, closing the door behind him.

Moffitt hung up his towel once he had privacy. After getting dressed, he brought his dirty clothes right into the laundry room, not wanting to foul up the bedroom with the salty stink of the sea by simply placing them in the hamper. He figured he would run the washing machine while he was at it, so he went back into the bedroom to put clothes from the hamper into a basket, then went to find Jules and ask for his dirty clothes.

Jules's bedroom door was only partway closed, but Moffitt still knocked to be polite. When no one answered, he pushed open the door, and found Jules and Antheia seated on the bed, hugging each other. "Oh, terribly sorry!" Moffitt said. "Didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"It's okay, Dad," Jules replied. "What is it?"

"I'm doing the laundry. I suggest you get yourself a shower and clean clothes. I'd rather the house doesn't smell like the ocean."

"Alright." Jules looked at Antheia, who seemed hesitant to let go. She eventually let him stand, and left the room. Once she left, Jules looked at his father. "She's really scared."

"I can't say I blame her," Moffitt said. He tried to give Jules something more positive to think about. "I'd say the horses have had a decent rest. You and Antheia can go riding together tomorrow if you wish."

"Is that even a good idea now?"

"I'll go with you. Just remember, no racing. Icepatch can't keep up with a younger horse like Nightrunner anymore."

"I know." Jules sighed. "I feel bad. Icepatch was supposed to go to Dietrich, but he hasn't been able to get more land to keep her in Germany. She'll be too old for a trip like that when he retires and doesn't have to worry so much about Gunther anymore."

"He'll always have Icepatch here," Moffitt said. "She's getting up there in age, but… that happens to all of us, and our animals."

"Except Anah," Jules added in a low voice.

"Yes. Except Anah." Moffitt's voice dropped to a whisper as well. "That's not a topic to bring up with her. You know that, right?"

Jules nodded. "It makes her really upset."

"It does. Especially now."

Jules looked at the floor. "That's right. We're… We're going to find out soon about what Dietrich's vision from before I was born actually meant."

Moffitt didn't respond right away. "I still think there won't be anything to worry about. We'll have a plan of action before we go, and we'll try to account for everything." He patted Jules's shoulder. "Don't worry about anything for the rest of the day. We'll start practicing with the sword tomorrow."

"Alright. Thanks, Dad."

Moffitt stood in the middle of his son's room after Jules had gone into the bathroom. He remembered that room used to be a plain spare bedroom for guests staying over. After Jules was born, it became his room, and it was quite neatly kept for someone his age. It needed a bit of tidying, but nothing major. Moffitt looked around at all the little things around the room that made up who Jules was. The photographs of his family, of Troy, Dietrich, Hitch, and Tully. The photos and paintings of horses on the wall. The maps of Great Britain, the world, and Middle Earth. The neatly organized bookshelves, packed with a wide variety of volumes on everything from horse care to fantasy novels.

The thought of having to put all those things into boxes and store them away somewhere made Moffitt slowly sink down until he was seated on the edge of the bed. He knew there had been discussion after discussion of what Dietrich's vision of Jules falling from a castle turret could mean, but it still felt like there was more speculation than answers. It sat heavily on his mind, and he felt a dark, leaden sensation seep down into his chest. He let out a sigh, and hung his head. Losing Michael was bad enough. I already have nightmares about losing Vanora and Jules… I'd rather they not become real.

Moffitt made himself stand. He took Jules's cloak from where it had been hung on the desk chair, and placed it in the laundry basket. He brought the basket into the laundry room, and dumped its contents into the washing machine. The machine was left open, as it could fit whatever Jules brought out of the bathroom when he was done with his shower. Moffitt stared down into the machine for a moment, lost in thought. He focused on Jules's cloak and the teal scarf he had given his son for his tenth birthday, much like how Moffitt had received his scarf from his father at the same age. Stop. You're letting your fears and worries get out of control. Moffitt stepped away from the washing machine, leaving the basket in front of the dryer.

He tried to keep himself distracted for the rest of the day. His wife helped quite a bit, especially that night when they went to bed. She wanted nothing more than to be close to him. As soon as Moffitt laid down in bed, Vanora cuddled up to him, holding him tightly and sighing.

"I was gone a day," Moffitt said. "You really missed me that much?"

"I was worried about you," Vanora whispered. She kissed his left cheek. "I'm glad you're safe and here with me."

"I'm glad you're safe, too." Moffitt turned to kiss Vanora. "Is that it? Are you alright?"

"Mostly."

"What's wrong, darling?" Moffitt shifted onto his back to make eye contact with Vanora.

There was a long silence apart from Anah's soft snoring on Moffitt's bedside table. Vanora rested her head on Moffitt's shoulder, her expression suggesting that she was having a difficult time explaining how she felt. Eventually, she sighed. "Do you think we're going to make it out of all this okay?"

"I would like to. I've been thinking about Dietrich's vision about Jules falling all day. We've gone over it so many times… but I'm still worried."

"I think we're going to worry until this is over."

"Pretty much. Now, there's nothing we can do except prepare and pray."

Vanora nodded. "How are we going to prepare Jules? It takes a long time to become proficient with a sword."

"Well, Troy did have a point earlier when he said that Jules is fighting birds—all he has to do is wave the blade around."

"The fact that it's made partly with silver might have something to do with it."

"I've been thinking that. The book we found in the lighthouse didn't say much about the sword's properties."

Vanora went quiet again, but her expression was more thoughtful. "It didn't say anything about a shield, did it?"

"No."

"Jules will need one."

Moffitt nodded. "You're right. He will."

"Shauna's good with woodworking, isn't she?"

"She is. What are you thinking?"

"We make him a shield."

"Alright. Call Shauna in the morning, and we'll have her come over to help out. Troy mentioned we should have her go with us to the castle anyway because she's a good marksman." Moffitt put his arm around Vanora to kiss her forehead. He tried to be optimistic. "Everything will be alright. We'll get through this."

They eventually settled down to go to sleep. Moffitt hoped he would sleep well given how tired he was from his trip to retrieve the sword and its sharpening stone with Jules. Sleeping on the beach of the Island of Blue Adders wasn't exactly comfortable, so it felt like he hadn't slept at all in two days.

When sleep came, Moffitt was thrust into a dream. He was inhabiting a body that was certainly not his. It didn't even feel human. He was low to the ground, glancing around and trying to understand what was happening. It didn't take long to realize he was inhabiting a snake, but he felt like he was merely watching what the snake was doing from within its head. The snake was suddenly grabbed behind its head and plucked from the ground. It thrashed and opened its mouth, frantically turning its head. The rapid motion made everything blurry and difficult to see, then the snake latched onto something with its fangs. It continued struggling, its fangs tearing into flesh. Everything was dim and the only thing Moffitt could feel was terror from the snake. He found himself trying to reach out psychically to the animal, but to no avail.

He began coming out of the dream slowly, hearing something hissing with deep, even breaths. When more consciousness returned, Moffitt became aware of someone gently shaking him.

"Jack? Jack, wake up," Vanora said. "You're hissing in your sleep again."

It took another moment or two for Moffitt to awaken further. The hissing stopped, and he glanced up at his wife. "Did I wake you?" he murmured.

"Yes, but don't worry about it. You were twitching like you were having a bad dream. Are you alright?"

This hadn't been a typical nightmare. Moffitt lay there for a moment, then sighed and rubbed his face. "I had a dream similar to what Troy was telling me about earlier, but I was the snake."

"You dreamt about biting Dietrich?"

"I didn't even see Dietrich. Everything was very dim and moving very fast. All I could feel was that the poor snake was scared out of its mind. I wanted to help it."

"Didn't you mention earlier today that the snakebite dreams could be from the magpies?"

"I did." Moffitt let out another breath. "This felt way too similar to other dreams where I'm inhabiting a snake's mind. I want to dismiss that idea, but… we did also talk about the magpies becoming more aggressive in their harassment of us. They may be setting a trap or trying to frighten us."

"There must be a way for you to know the truth."

"Part of me wants to assume it's a trick until proven otherwise. We do need to focus on getting ready for the fight at the castle. I'll still ask about it when I go into the university tomorrow." Moffitt turned to look at the clock on his nightstand. "Well, in a few hours." He dropped back down onto his pillow, and felt Vanora nestle next to him. He really hoped what he had seen was just a trick played by the magpies. It had to be. The whole situation didn't make sense. He would never let a snake bite someone he cared about, and if he was in constant communication with it, there was no reason for a snake to be afraid. The other Rats and Dietrich knew better than to provoke a snake into biting. It has to be a trick of some kind. There's no other explanation.

Troy felt like he was trying to keep two walls from closing in on him as he struggled against the ever-increasing flood of anger and frustration. He had been given a simple instruction—listen to the sound of Dietrich's voice—and that was difficult. Troy wanted to scream, but resisted. The last few hours alone had been wrought with a feeling of hopelessness, anxiety, exhaustion, rage, and fear. He could feel the spirit-jackals prowling restlessly in the recesses of his mind, and he didn't want them there anymore. He wanted to lock them back up, but it was too late. Far too late. They were out, and whatever cage had held them before had been destroyed, mangled beyond all recognition.

"Just listen to what I say to you, Troy," Dietrich was saying. "Do not think too hard about it. Just focus on my words. Remember what we did a couple of weeks ago? After I untied you from the tree you like to bring up so much? How I had you think and focus on a place you felt completely at peace in?"

"Yeah—"

"No. Do not answer me. Just listen. Go back to that place."

Part of Troy wanted to snap after having been interrupted. He growled through clenched teeth, "This is so damn stupid."

"Is it? Or are you just angry and you are letting it cloud your judgement?"

"How can you just sit here and do your breathing exercise bullcrap when there's a very real possibility that you and Jules and more of us could die?!"

"Because if I let the fear of death and failure control me, how will I gain the confidence that we will survive? Have you forgotten that I had only my words to use when we nearly went to war with East Germany? I was terrified. I knew failure meant the wholescale destruction of Europe, the deaths of millions of innocent people, but I did not give in to paralyzing fear. There is nothing wrong with being afraid, but you cannot let it control you. Right now, you are letting it control you."

Troy felt the tide of anger steadily recede, and it was replaced by exhaustion and a much more mild irritability. He sighed heavily, looking down at his lap. "I'm sick of dealing with this."

"Jules said the same thing a few days ago. I told him that giving up will not yield good results, and the only way to make this all stop was to press forward."

"Exactly, and we're not pressing forward. We're doing nothing."

Now it was Dietrich's turn to sigh. "Troy, just because we are not blindly running into the castle at this moment, does not mean we are doing nothing."

"You tell me—we're sitting here, under a tree, thinking about breathing. That sounds like nothing to me."

Dietrich bit his lip. "Fine. Fine, go to the castle. Go ahead. Grab every weapon you can carry and go to the castle. Take Jules with you, because the prophecy says the sword is required. We will be here when you return."

"Now you're just being a smartass. I'm not that stupid."

Dietrich snorted.

Troy glared at him. "You think I'd just put Jules in danger like that?"

"No. I know your own self-preservation would go out the window to keep him safe, but there is only so much you can do on your own, even with the jackals."

Troy wasn't sure what to say. The flaming knot of anger in his stomach was still slowly putting itself out. Instead of determination to do whatever it took to end the madness of the magpies, he didn't know what to do anymore. He released his breath. "There's no way to speed this up, is there?"

"No."

"Okay. Alright. I… have to accept that."

"Yes. You do."

Troy looked up at the sky. "How?"

"The same way you wait for a foal to grow."

"That's different. You can't just make a foal grow up in a day. We could still go to the castle today and just overwhelm the magpies with everything we have."

"I see no difference. Sure, we can plan today, but a good plan requires a lot of thought, accounting for all possibilities."

"Dietrich, you should know better than anyone that in war, you have to think on your feet."

"Yes, when the situation demands it. This situation is not demanding it. We have time, so take advantage of it."

"I think I'd feel better if we started planning now."

"Moffitt, Jules, and Anah just got home. Let them rest. I should have mentioned earlier that you yelling at Moffitt was extremely rude."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing to me? Go apologize to Moffitt."

"I'll do it later."

Dietrich rolled his eyes. "Do it soon."

"Look, I swear, I'm not crazy when I say that using a sword is pointless against birds."

"Well, you do have something of a point there, but you are still crazy in general."

"But I'm right."

"Maybe. Making silver pellets for shotgun shells is certainly more practical than using purely silver bullets. However, silver is an extremely valuable metal. As I remember, the Nazis went to great lengths in order to acquire it. For us to acquire any would be difficult."

"I guess you got a point there. Then what? Does this mean Jules just have to swing the damn sword wildly and hope for the best?"

"It certainly appears that way. He only has to kill the fourteenth magpie."

"All magpies look the same. What if we kill it by accident when we're shooting them?"

"It may have strengths similar to vampires. Did you not mention to me that your grandparents told you stories about the strix? Ancient Greek vampire owls?"

"Yeah, they did. But, those actually are vampires. It makes sense that they would have those same strengths—"

"Given that the original magpies were sent here by the Nazis, it would not surprise me if they had somehow given these birds similar qualities, without the need for drinking blood. They may have even used strix for those."

"Never thought of it that way."

"It would certainly explain why we have to use silver."

"Dietrich?"

"Yes?"

"Could you… stop making sense?"

"Why? Have I made you feel silly?"

"Little bit, yeah."

"I cannot decide if I should apologize or tell you to take this as a lesson to stop and think before you fly off the handle with people. To be fair, though, we do not know if this is the case. It is just a theory."

"Yeah, but you're smart and you're usually right about stuff like this."

"That does not mean I am incapable of being wrong. I have been wrong before." Dietrich smirked. "I was once certain that you would never get married." His smirk faded. "I was also once certain that I did not mean anything to anyone, and that your reasons for helping me before I attempted suicide were disingenuous."

"Well, I once thought I'd never get married, and you were definitely wrong on those other two points." For the first time that day, Troy felt a little calmer. Still uncertain and frazzled, but he felt like he could think things through a little better.

Things were quiet for a few long minutes. Dietrich looked deep in thought, while Troy wasn't sure what to do with himself. He felt like he needed to be doing something to prepare for the last fight against the magpies. If I'm going to protect Jules and everyone else, I need to focus, keep a hand on the jackals. He bit his tongue before saying, "Dietrich?"

"Yes?" Dietrich said.

"Try it again. The whole 'listen to my voice' breathing exercise-thing."

"May I ask why you are suddenly interested in giving it a try?"

"Just… curious."

Dietrich wore an expression like he knew Troy was lying, but he still faced forward. "Alright. Face the creek. Back straight. Close your eyes, and… breathe."

Like when Moffitt's home was surrounded by magpies, Troy found himself in his own mind, facing a pack of jackals. He crouched in front of them, letting them step forward. He still found it strange, but he knew it was something he was stuck with. Moffitt had been able to make things work with his snake-whispering. Dietrich had gotten used to having visions when sleeping or unconscious. Why couldn't he do the same here? He felt like he was starting to, but still had a ways to go as far as truly accepting it.

When Troy resumed listening to Dietrich, he felt an animal's whiskers on his face, and opened his eyes to see the transparent, bluish form of a jackal standing next to him. Troy grinned, and thought, Go bother Dietrich.

The jackal didn't hesitate, and turned to Dietrich, sniffing him and licking his face.

Dietrich gave a heavy sigh. "For heaven's sake, Troy."