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Part 6 of 6

We live in a world where emotions can lift people from their sorrows as easily as drown them within. They cause you to strive for something better or hold you back, wielding control both unmeasurable and unmistakable. But what if, for some, emotions held a tangible power, if they could use the emotions of the world for their own benefit? What is the chance that someone would abuse that gift?

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Chapter 17 - Panicked

Amelia awoke.

She felt no drowsiness or confusion, because she knew, despite her day count being at three hundred and sixty two, she no longer needed to wait.

Someone now shared her bed. Maybe the extra weight caused a subtle change in the mattress and brought her awake. No way could she blame it on body heat, only her’s warmed the space beneath the covers. In that, a construct felt no different than a corpse.

Thankfully Barnabus still remained the former. Better yet, he did nothing to show awareness of her slipping out from beside him.

Impossible to feel prepared for the moment, easier to let despair and hopelessness rule her mind. But Amelia discovered time and use wore them down to nubs of nothingness. In their place she remembered her plan. One that would make a budding tactician, straight out of school, laugh. Yet the grizzled general, experienced at losing against overwhelming force, would understand sometimes Savior Luck did not care about viability of planning. It preferred action.

Hoping to buy herself a moment, when Eric appeared, she took the paperback she finished before sleeping and wedged it into the gap between the floor and the door. It would only delay him only for seconds, maybe less time than it took her to do it, but she watched him hunt, she knew he slowed when his prey seemed aware of him. And since Amelia needed time, right now, she hoped for any delay caused by her awareness.

Opening the window, she jumped.

Not to defiantly rob him of what he wanted, Amelia wanted to live, but to begin her escape. A child's spell, one she remembered Kens using in play, with cousins, before they left him behind once he became enmeshed in childhood.

Like an unwinged angel, her pure, white nightgown glowing in the dark, she floated down from her second floor window like Ken and kin once floated from family warehouses. Practice, every night Eric left her alone, less often as Amelia's friends belatedly closed in upon him, allowed her to float almost to the gate in the fence. Landed, she took off at a hurried walk. Not yet time to jog, nor to run. That would come.

How many times had she envisioned this night? Hundreds, if not thousands. Once a plan formed, the visualization, much like a downhill skier preparing to hurdle down a mountain, of what she needed to do became a constant companion.

Practice, again and again, she'd walked the start of the path she mapped out in the days following her kidnapper’s confirmation he intended to kill her. Discovering the road, towards Hambley Woods, traveled in a long, sweeping curve she realized it would be faster to cut across country to the woods. There she desperately hoped to find escape. So with no shoes, since her closet only held her stupid shoes, not the semi-practical boots that accompanied her impractical heroine costumes, she walked the path tens of times. Until the route, each little bump or dip, ingrained itself in her mind, allowing her to walk it at night. Almost like a midnight dash from bed to toilet, where familiarity guided you instead of sight.

Though her bare feet carried her forward without any guidance, the ambient light from artificial moon and stars, in a sky that never showed clouds, allowed her to watch over her shoulder. Every shadow, in the distance, made her catch her breath. It caused her to want to run, knowing she needed to reach the forest before he arrived, but she knew she needed to stop herself from wasting energy before time.

She succeeded.

Nervous and tense, she skirted its edge, circling towards the road. All the while she watched for Eric, remembering his words after he professed his desire to hunt her.

"But, in order for me to savor our hunt, you must give me your best. Another mistake I made with my prior wives. Okay, victims, happier now? They felt no hope, since I never gave them any reason to believe they could win. Looking back, I probably robbed most of the desire to even try. I don’t believe that is true for you, but in case, let me say one thing. You are right, the portal with Benburg’s is at the center of my family’s woods.”

“Not much hope, with who knows how many guardians there are,” Amelia said in answer.

“If you do not stray too much from a straight path, you will encounter, at most, nine different groups. And before you repeat yourself, there are ways past them.”

Could she trust him?

In ways, despite wearing a mask of gentility to obscure the beast within, he always appeared truthful with her, rarely hiding his intentions or his desires on how he wanted her to act. Furthermore, why did he need to lie. In their deepest foray into the forest Eric dealt with six groups before her nerves and his exhaustion forced them to turn back. In many ways, his one consistent lie revolved around the validity of hope.

Tonight she would attempt to determine that truth. It frustrated the scientist inside of her. Though he implied multiple ways to get past the guardians, only one stood out as a possibility for her. Even worse, she would get only a single attempt to test her hypothesis. Yet an infinitesimally small chance still outweighed zero.

Circling the woods, she dashed across the road, not stopping until she reached a stand of trees thrusting out from their kin. Here, they exited the woods after their first encounter with the Uruk-hai. Here, they normally exited whenever entering nearby. Since Eric always guided them out, Amelia hoped his past exhaustion unintentionally led him into showing her the easiest path through his woods. It did seem less dense, with fewer deadfall. Maybe wishful thinking, but she planned to use this spot as her final night’s entrance.

Though not yet.

Even though she felt no effects from her walk, she breathed deeply, performing the stretches learned from Heather's past. Warming muscles for what waited, watching for, listening for the approach of her tormentor. The next phase of her plan required his presence.

A wait ended by the unhurried approach of a light along the road, before it turned towards her. The man with the lantern.

Just as she started her turn, he shouted, "Stop."

Ingrained habits caused her to look at him, to see him sitting atop a horse in a hooded, black overcoat, the lantern held so he could see her better.

"I thought you wanted me to run?"

"Oh, I most definitely do, probably I want it more than anything in nearly one hundred and fifty years. But the waiting is delicious and allows me to satisfy my curiosity. Who are you truly?"

"Why?"

"You mentioned the Divas. They and their immortal henchmen are like hounds, requiring me to become the most wily of fox to stay out of their focus. But there is another group, clever and sneaky, buying information the others demand, who I suspect will track me down first. At first I suspected an attempt to curry favors from the big girls, but the resources they are spending did not seem worth it. Until I heard a strange rumour. Are you Kenneth Cabot?"

"Not anymore."

"Isn't that the damndest thing," Eric said, as he swung right leg over the rump of his horse to dismount.

All the cue Amelia needed to initiate the next phase of her plan. Spinning, she ran into the woods. And as she did so, she opened the door of her soul to her ever lurking companion, Terror. Always watching from the edge of conscious thought, it's appearance during their prior adventures into the woods had washed away everything that could hold it back. Now it flooded along familiar pathways, filling her to the brink. It belonged. It felt natural.

Eric sensed its arrival, stood still for a moment to bask in its glow. He laughed in joy, his weapons appearing in hands as he finally allowed himself to savor his long awaited treat.

In this moment, her trialiity served her well. Each part of herself fulfilled the task that played to a strength. Amelia, their conscious presence for all these months of captivity, who'd born the brunt of their fear, experienced the periods of terror, welcomed it back as old friend, letting it wash away all other thought, except an awareness of Eric. Another of her strengths, playing the attentive audience taught her to sense where he stood, determining what he wanted from her.

Right now he wanted her afraid, so she allowed herself to feel more afraid than ever before. Nor did it completely exist as an act. She knew Eric intended to kill her this night and he held the power to do so. But she wanted to live.

However, first he wanted her to run. She'd known this for months. So like that remembered high school coach, her Heather part, the athlete of the triunity, took control of exercising, preparing physically for this night. Now her Heather part ran for all of their lives.

Dangerous to do so in the dark, particularly in woods, even this less dense section still contained underbrush, deadfall, and trees that did not form a straight path. Navigation fell to her Ken part.

This depended upon a lesson learned from watching Eric, who always knew from where attackers would appear. And how, outside of the one time, he never stumbled or collided with the trees surrounding him during a fight. That, not the idiotic cape and costume, made Amelia think of him as the bat man, as if he used something similar to the sonar that guided bats through darkened night. A spell from the same school as the one she used to the track the movements of the constructs. It just required her Ken part to cast it continuously, to process it immediately, to fire synapses in response that told her Heather part to twist left or right, duck or leap.

The fear that weighed heavily upon Amelia would surely lead to emotional exhaustion. Just as the physical strain of Heather's running would lead to physical exhaustion and the intellectual drain of Ken's constant focus would lead to mental exhaustion. Linked together, her body may give in before she gave herself a real chance to escape, but when spread across the three of them, maybe it would give her enough time.

"Left," Ken pulsed, as a man shaped object jumped out from behind some trees.

Everybody reacted perfectly to the command. her Heather part dodged, evading the grasp of a goblin. Amelia screamed in fear at the closeness of the escape. And Eric, smiling at her scream, shot the beast in the head.

Just like every other time she entered these woods, her safety from its denizens relied upon Eric’s presence. It did not exist in any of her three parts to kill nor did any of them possess the skill to do so, but neither of those issues hindered Eric. That is why the plan required her to keep him close, it recognized his desire to kill her himself and would ensure he kept her safe from everything else. But she could not give him time to play, to draw his sword and engage them in hand to hand combat as he liked, since that would tire him out. Amelia needed him strong enough to follow her to the wood’s center.

Eric's desire to impress always before kept them from reaching the center of the woods. Tonight she could not allow that to happen. So her Heather part ran as fast as her Ken part allowed, her speed giving Eric no time to do anything other than dispatch all that appeared with his gun. Instantly the monsters died as his gun, like in a movie, always remained loaded.

Another beneficial byproduct of Eric’s nearness, Amelia could efficiently capture his ecstatic appreciation of her terror. It allowed her Ken part to continuously cast the navigation spell without fear of running out of magical energy. Something even more necessary as the woods closed in the deeper they ran.

"Lovely Kenneth, you may want to stop for a moment. Ground control to major babe, I need a break." Eric shouted, after they reached a point deeper than ever before, seven, maybe eight, groups encountered.

Attuned to his presence rather than his words, she sensed him stop. Amelia did not want that, she needed him close, almost unconsciously she came to a halt. Only then, turning towards him, did she question whether she fell for a ruse, but he still held to the truth.

A relief to let her Heather catch her breath, to allow her Ken part to relax for a moment, and to see Eric’s chest heave. She could not let it last long, to let her muscles grow cold, but a short break could benefit her before the final dash.

“Have any water?” Eric asked. “I could use a drink.”

“Do you see a backpack or a bag?”

“Good point. And I suppose I should take the blame that none of your nightgowns have pockets. Function never played the key role when choosing what you should wear. Good plan by the way, none of the others even made it to the woods. If you only you brought water I would give you an A+."

Now wanting a drink herself, she said, "You seem rather unphased for someone about to puke his guts out. Is this all a lie in your twisted little game?"

"I didn't realize I was so out of shape. Instead of dressing you as Tifa, I guess we should have spent more time with you dressed as the maid and me the master chasing you around the kitchen table. God why didn't I think of that before, it's my type of exercising. Or, instead of Lara, maybe the secretary and boss around his desk, well too late for that. Though I'll need to remember for the next time. Oh, is that the confidence you question?

"Well it's like this. You're less of a city girl now, aren’t you, but you still can’t navigate these woods. If you continue in the direction you’re heading, we'll miss the center of the woods. You need to veer a bit to the East. You don't know which way that is, do you? Should I tell you? Would it make this excellent night more enjoyable? Is it better to keep you in the dark or...Fuck!"

Although Eric's monsters could not learn from their encounters with him, all came equipped with a certain level of cunning. None more-so than the Uruk-hai, whose appearance always led to the most ferocious encounters, the sneakiest ambushes, and the fights that drained them the most.

Usually her kidnapper waited upon attack, ready to respond. However, on this night, Eric could not share the burdens of the chase with anyone else. And while he did not need to worry about emotional exhaustion, the physical and mental strain took their toll. It caused him to call for a break, giving him a moment to catch his breath, to rest his body and mind. Just enough time for the black orcs, who patrolled the current section of Hambley Woods, to attack.

Unprepared, talent and practice combined to fling Eric himself barely out of the way of the attack of the first. Yet he did not completely escape, as the orc's black shield clipped his right arm. Continuing to roll away, summoning his own black armour, he did not notice his pistol fall to the ground.

However, Amelia watched it bounce twice before it fell flat. Fighting the feeling of panic that always accompanied the appearance of the Uruk-hai, she moved towards the chrome escape.

Legs covered in black metal denied her chance, striding in front of the gun as she moved forward. Instantly, her momentum turned into a backwards scramble, right into a second set of legs. Twisting away she tried to escape but a hand wrapped around her wrist. Yanking upon it, she twirled like some out of control ballroom dancer to crash into the orc's chest. Momentarily stunned from the impact, she did not notice his other arm wrap around her waist and lift her in the air. Grunting something at the other Uruk-hai he turned and trotted into the woods.

Focus returning, Amelia looked into the face that inhabited so many of her nightmares. The orc whose face showed the white-hand, who she once killed with her parasol.

"Eric!" Amelia shouted, panic wrestling with terror to grab control of her mind.

But her would be killer, circled by five attackers, could not help.

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Chapter 18 - Enraged

From the grave born stench of his breath to the rank smell of unwashed dirt, sweat, and rusting metal, everything about her new captor defined the word, foul. In many ways, the beast man served as the perfect physical manifestation of Eric's soul.

Not that the heinous qualities of the beast man robbed him of the physical gifts needed to carry Amelia into the forest, distancing the two of them from his brethren and Eric, her source of temporary rescue. As the sounds of fighting disappeared, the discomfort from his arm, wrapped around her middle, squeezing away breath worse than her tightest corset, left her lightheaded. Unconscious, uncaring cruelty momentarily weighed heavier than conscious, intended cruelty.

Whatever that would be.

Wherever he intended to take her.

But right now Amelia needed to breathe. Grasping at his arm, wrist, with both hands, fingers and thumbs trying to gain purchase on either vambrace or gauntlet and move his arm, even a inch. Unable to obtain anything other than the weakest grip, she stood no chance against the muscle bound freak.

Desperate, she struggled, earning a growl and a tighter grip. Stars bursting in front of her eyes, Amelia fought even harder.

Her wiggling, the slipperiness of her silk nightgown against his armour, the awkward way in which he held her combined to finally overcome his pressure based grip. Feeling her slip, the Uruk-hai tossed Amelia to the ground, where she sprawled clumsily, her head just missing a root as it bounced off the vegetation covered ground. Stunned, she did not fight as he took a length of rope from a pouch at his belt and wrapped it around her wrists, leaving just enough space in between with which to yank her to her feet.

Not letting go, he pulled her along, unworried as she stumbled behind him, marching deeper into the woods. Never had she felt more alone, as she tormented herself with thoughts of what he planned to do to her. Bad enough with Eric. Repellant though she found him, at least he wasn't...Oh God.

"Where is he taking me? Don't think about it, Amelia. Think about how you will free yourself."

It did not bother her that she spoke aloud, she did not allow herself to worry he understand her words, that he knew she looked to escape. Stating the problem turned it into a thinking exercise. And she knew Ken thrived on those. Not quite granting him control, she demanded he figure something out.

After a moment's thought, he ordered her to quit fighting, to conserve her strength for the right moment. Particularly since the orc dragged her the way she needed to go.

That realization required her to ignore what Eric told her while they rested, about how she would not hit the center of the woods, but, for the first time, Amelia felt he lied to her. Now she supported intuition with the understanding as to where the beast man traveled. The spawn point at which the monsters in this area always appeared, a location that experience taught would exist at the furthest point inwards, closer to the center of the woods.

Though what good would that do her?

Don't think, she reminded herself, the moment will come. It led her closer to her destination, so worry about nothing for now, just watch for that moment. Survive. Then escape.

Forget the ache in her head, from the fall. Ignore her bare feet, battered and bruised from running through the forest. Pay no attention to the blood dripping from wrists, tightly bound by the stiff rope. Instead she followed the black orc, not fighting his lead, waiting for her moment.

Thus it took her a moment, after they entered a broad clearing, to notice what stood in its middle. A small hut, log walls and thatched roof, a single door beside a lone window, like something from a fairy tale. Ignoring the hand holding her bindings, she momentarily forgot the reality of her present world and stepped towards the building.

Surely the hut held the entrance to Benburgs.

Reality did not forget Amelia, instead it used the muscled orc to stop in her tracks before he pulled her towards a lone pine, its branches starting well above her head, just inside the clearing. Here, with one hand clenched around her right wrist he used the other to worry the knot of her binding loose on the other hand. Then, despite how much she fought, he forced her arms around the tree before he re-tied her wrists together.

Hugging the tree, her cheek resting against its trunk in an attempt at comfort, Amelia felt more vulnerable than ever. Again she struggled against the horrific thoughts of what he could do to her. None of which included his walking away. Not far, no more than twenty steps, but enough distance to prove she did not occupy the forefront of his mind. Further verification came as she watched his yellow eyes, gleaming in the fake moonlight. Darting about, from point to point in the woods and to an empty spot just to his right, they rarely settled upon her.

Bait!

Eric wanted killers. Why spend any excess energy on lust, when he could imbue his monsters with the cunning of a hunter.

Relief washed over her body. At least she would be spared that indignity.

Now she needed to escape the next, for it appeared the Uruk-hai expected Eric to survive the prior ambush, that he expected the Man with the Lantern to follow them to this clearing. Hoping his brethren would re spawn before he arrived. Nervous they would not, lacking confidence they could win even if they did.

Of course they would lose, Eric would be sure to stack the deck in his favour. Never mind the foul beast that stood nearby, she still needed to escape the foul beast whose fantasy created her nightmare.

Magic should offer the answer. In fact many within the mundane world considered a escape artist as the greatest magician of all time, but Houdini disguised reality through hidden keys and tricks. None of which were available to Amelia nor did her own magic, which truly manipulated reality, offer a better alternative. She did not know how to free herself, as she'd never learned how, and doubted she had enough time to figure it out.

It left brute force as one option, not her forte. She considered how Brennus taught her to harness her energy for a strike, but she also remembered what he said about breaking fingers with a punch. She doubted her thin wrists would fare any better in any attempt to break free of the rope. First she needed to weaken it.

Eyes on her captor, who all but ignored her, Amelia slid her hands along the tree’s trunk, searching for a knot, a broken branch, anything with which she could attempt to cut the rope. The bark offered only semi-sharp edges, brittle more than hard, it tended to crumble under the anything more than the slighted pressure. Yet when left with only bad options, you can either embrace them or give up. So she, gingerly at first, scraped the rope against the tree, pausing only when the Uruk-hai glanced her way.

Unsure if she made any progress, Amelia wondered if she could free herself before Eric arrived. If so, she could use him to distract the orc and vice versa.

Confirmation he would appear came over the next few moments, with the arrival of the rest of the orcs. She half expected them to rise, zombie like, from the ground. If not that, then in a shimmering like a Star Trek transporter. Not just appearing in a previously empty space, but that is what happened. Until she shared the clearing with six instead of one, all of whom now watched the trees.

They all knew, including Amelia, that the Man with the Lantern would be coming for them. And he felt angry.

Although not yet thwarted, even a temporary diversion proved enough to bring Eric’s true self to the surface. The deadly cocktail of anger, hate, selfishness that formed his core released, with Amelia considered the cause, source and target of it all.

A maelstrom of emotion that she felt at his approach. A storm cloud forming on the edge of her consciousness that bore down upon her like a force of nature.

All of them sensed his approach. Each set of eyes turned to watch as a light appeared, filtering through the branches. Brighter it grew, as it came closer, until no trees blocked it from their sight. The gloom of the clearing washed away by light from a lantern more powerful than it owned any right to shine. With the only darkness it could not dispel existing within its bloom. There stood Eric, faceless and larger than life in his ebon armour, the very image of evil intent.

Setting the lantern upon the ground, his shield appeared to take its place as he walked toward the Uruk-hai. They, in turn, spread out in an arc. But when they moved to shrink their circle he attacked.

His explosion of power, magically enhanced, closed the distance with the two who formed the horn on his right, furthest away from Amelia, before anybody knew he moved. One, his falchion moving as if through mud, found no time to even shout before Eric's sword slashed into his neck, not quite severing his head. The second did not receive such a merciful end, the man's shield having slammed into his chest, breaking through the metal of armour to create shards of metal that pierced a chest now full of shattered ribs.

Silent, after the first brief clash of metal, Eric watched his four remaining opponents. He knew what they would do, so when they attacked as one, screaming their rage, he met them with raised shield and sword, along with quick feet that allowed him to dance away, always keeping them to his front.

Now the clearing rang loudly with the sounds of battle. Eric ducking one vicious swing, ramming a shoulder into one attacker, knocking him into another, before crushing his sword against the helm of a third. But before he could finish this stunned opponent off, the fourth attacked with a furious barrage of thrusts and swings, forcing the man backwards, allowing his companion to regain his wits.

Throughout it all, Amelia felt the rage boiling off the man in the black armour. But this she gave him nothing, having shut down all emotion, locking her terror away in a metal box inside her mind. Attempting to no longer care whether she lived or died.

If she thought about it, the latter seemed more likely, with not a single strand of her rope binding frayed. It left her as a spectator, wondering how Eric moved so quick, how he did not tire, how he always guessed what his opponents would do. Not that he toyed with them, they seemed to fight with an intelligence she'd never seen in them before, tempering their normal all out assault with moments of defence and teamwork. But Eric realized this as easily as her and with the skill of a chest player maneuvered the four until two bumped into each other. Again he leapt to attack. One scrambled away, to the safety of the other two, but one remained slumped on the ground.

Nobody could doubt who would win.

But that did not matter to the Uruk-hai, they existed for one purpose. To attempt to defeat Eric. They would die trying, had done so innumerable times before. Instinct, at least as much as a construct could possess demanded they keep fighting. Including the one whose ribs Eric destroyed at the beginning of the fight.

Through pain that would cripple anything truly alive, it dragged itself along the ground. Forgotten, ignored, a sense of presence, rather than sound alerted Amelia to its arrival at her side. She recognized the palm print on its face, the eyes full of demented anger. Arms outstretched, inch by inch, it pulled itself towards her. Unable to escape his approach, she pulled back her legs, ready to kick out when it came closer.

However, just beyond her range it stopped and looked at her, as if trying to communicate. A moment of weakness, the recognition he appeared as much Eric's victim as her, or something else caused her lock to gaze onto his. To follow his eyes to his right arm, watching it inch toward her.

Somewhere in the decision tree that substituted for his mind, he’d discovered a new way to defeat his enemy. Three more times he slid forward. His goal reached, he accepted death.

With legs straightened, Amelia stretched a foot to brush his gauntleted hand away from the grip of his falchion. Hooking a toe over its guard, she dragged the weapon towards her. When a glance confirmed Eric still focused upon his opponents, she spun around the tree, to crouch and grasp the falchion. The blood from her wrists making it awkward to maneuver, as she drove its point into the ground, its back braced against the trunk. Then she sawed her arms up and down, the sword’s edge slowly severing each strand of the rope until her arms sprung apart.

No hesitation. Scrambling to her battered feet, she ran for the hut, all the while she expected to hear a panicked shout from behind. It did not come and when she reached the door she knew why.

Of course there would be a lock on this solid door, a Weiser deadbolt to be exact, which may as well be the door to a bank vault. Nor did the window, covered by shutters offer an alternative. So close to escape, yet when she threw herself against the door, she felt no give.

And she heard his laughter.

Between her moment of building and the dashing of hope, Eric dispatched the last three black orcs. Now, with lantern back in hand, his armour dispelled to wherever it waited, he walked towards her.

And he laughed.

Full of scorn, empty of amusement, he laughed at her.

But where he expected it to trigger terror, he miscalculated. His prior anger, that felt as he approached the clearing, measured nothing when compared to the rage she now felt.

It opened something inside of her.

---

Chapter 19 - Released

If asked to explain what she felt in that moment of pure rage, she would struggle to do so. Strong, powerful, potent, even magical. All words that approached the right territory of explanation, but all insufficient. Why would words exist to describe something experienced by so few across the span of humanity's history.

Suffice to say, Amelia no longer felt afraid.

The Man with the Lantern sensed her change. Both his laughter and his stroll towards her stopped, but not instinct. Eric's sword disappeared, replaced by his gun. He saw the climax of his pleasure about to escape, he acted to stop it from happening.

Lightning fast though his actions would appear to anyone else, Amelia found herself with all the time she needed to do whatever she wanted. If someone else, she might rip the doors off the hut, dash inside to the waiting door to Benburgs, but none of her personalities ever relied on physical strength and she did not consider that option. Others, Eric or any of the Boiis, would leap to the attack, looking to kill before being killed. But at her core rested the soul of Kenneth Cabot, who always avoided conflict, who once told Brennus about his technique of running away in order not to get hurt.

An interesting comparison. When left with little choice, the choice came easily, rather than give up it is natural to keep trying until the end. While now, blessed with infinite choices, the choice came just as easily. It seemed impossible to chose anything other than what defined her as a person. For her, like Ken before her, curiosity trumped all else.

While imprisoned, only one thought occupied her mind with near the regularity as those of escape, it involved both Ken's and Julia's experiments. What did the latter miss from prior, why did their attempts fail so often? Why couldn't they open a portal to rescue her?

Without conscious thought, she cast the spell, used so many times by Ken within his lab, and found the beacon she'd placed earlier that day. With her new power she saw it in a different way. Rather than just the sense of a beacon's presence, it seemed as if a transparent overlay settled across Amelia's magical consciousness, almost like a traffic controller's radar screen. A single blip flashing brightly, as if her constant casting of the imbued it with never dimming light. No reason Julia's team could not find and use it, unless Ken's theory missed an important factor?

Maybe.

She wished Ken knew more about their tests, that they gave him a chance to study their results, particularly their partial successes. What accounted for success and what for failure? Did a special infinity need to exist between caster and world? Maybe a world in which they regularly visited or one to which they previously created a door. But probably never one to which they never visited, like this one. Did they ever include a secured world as a parameter?

Impossible to say without further information. The only things Amelia could draw upon resided in her head, particularly Ken's problem solving skills. No, her skills. Silly to continue with that fabrication. Why pretend to be three, it only diluted the truth of herself. Time for Ken and Heather's memories to join into one, for the imagined Amelia to disappear, replaced by...

She smiled, it seemed fitting.

Alyce.

Apparently she too belonged amongst the rarest of the rare. So why not take on the name of her figurative mother, the girl who placed her on the path to this moment. One difference did exist, she knew magic existed, she could use it. Though just as with the original Alyce, she did not know what it could do.

However, scientists sought to solve mysteries, for the good of mankind or to satisfy their curiosity. That desire did not change when she accepted new names the prior two times, nor did it change this time.

Satisfied with how easy she solved the mystery of self, once she decided to accept the obvious truth, Alyce turned to the more difficult external question. Allowing her inward gaze to study the overlay in her mind she noticed the shadow of not quite beacons. She catalogued these shadows, finding one near her beacon, the rest usually grouped two together, each pair of varying distances apart, hundreds of them barely visible.

However, thirty three of them, including the one nearby, stood out as black blotches, each a barely different shade of black. What did it mean, what did the number thirty three signify? Why did the nearest appear like a spot, created with a black marker, on the first sheet of a pad of paper, while the rest looked more like the bleed through on sheets beneath?

Obviously they marked a spell, but did the darkness imply distance or something else?

In a burst of inspiration Amelia guessed precedence. The spell sought to find a beacon placed in another world, so these marks might point to something similar. Could it be every time she walked into or out a world's door it would create such a mark. Passive in nature, there would be no reason for it to shine brightly. though a door’s permanence may cause the mark to last longer, at least to her currently enhanced vision of the magical world.

Counting, within her mind, she numbered fifteen different doors she'd passed through after Gary turned Ken into Heather. From Gary's place to Dannika's to Ilina's to Pythia's Retreat to Tess's, all the hubs in between, and finally the trapdoor in Heather's bed. Fifteen of those she remembered both the entry and exit, which numbered thirty. If correct, it meant Eric carried her from the original world in which he captured her into his twisted amusement park, which added three more. The rest, all those barely seen, she guessed came from the time when she'd only been Ken, a time to which all links slowly dissolved.

Another mystery solved, but not escape enacted.

Until she asked herself what better representation of a world did she need than an actual door? In a magical sense, its existence seemed at least as tangible as the lintel stones used to create it. Counting carefully, backwards from the darkest shadow, the one nearest her bright beacon, she found the door that matched the number she wanted. The most memorable door through which any of her incarnations passed, because of its environmental impact.

Just as Gary once used physical memories to create her current form, so saw no reason she could not use the memories from her prior crossing through the door to re-create it.

With that thought, Alyce brought a new door into existence.

A door through which she stepped, just as a bullet flashed through the space now vacated.

Brutal cold, so unlike the unchanging weather of Eric's world, blasted through her body, the thin nightgown and bare feet offering no protection. Yet for a moment welcome. Only something this shocking could separate Alyce from the seemingly perfect mental world in which she manufactured her escape, but which lured her into just as deadly a trap. Too easily could she stay there, in a universe of her own, satisfying curiosity, solving problems, never leaving.

Not even her onetime Ken self could remain sane when that alone.

Cold.

Now she needed to escape from it and the voice she heard cursing on the other side of the door. She ran forward, past explosives frozen into walls of ice, bloody footprints marking her passage.

"Please let me in! Please, I need help."

The first hatch showed only a crack when she reached it, but proved wide enough for her to slip through. Each of the following three provided even less difficulty before they closed behind her. Through the last hatch, she took five steps, along the soft grass, towards the cinder block building and stopped. Unsure what to do, but knowing she no longer needed to run, Alyce sank to the soft grass.

Tremors started. The terror of the chase, the horror of her capture by the Uruk-hai, the expanse of her discovery, the exhilaration of her escape, and the terrible all combined to overwhelm. Despite memories of power, Alyce felt weak. Her body needed to process the physical and mental shock.

On battlefields across two millennia, Harald the Boii lost count of how many people he'd seen struck down by shock. He knew how to handle it, but, as watchman, duty and paranoia always took priority. Not until the hatches closed and before he assured himself of approaching reinforcements did he, carrying his TAR-21 assault rifle and a first aid kit, leave the bunker to help.

Alyce's only reaction to his presence was to clutch at the Mylar blanket he wrapped around her shoulders and to lay down when he helped her do so. Barely could she hear his questions, never-mind understand them.

"It’s really you, isn’t you? Are you hurt?" Harald asked. When she offered no answer, his hands and eyes sought injury, finding her bloodied feet and bloodied wrists, rope still wrapped around them.

Focused on the first, he did not look up at the sound of vehicles approaching. He knew they were the enforcements, that one of them would enter the bunker to secure the monitors, while others would take over for him. First aid never counted amongst his strong point, all his brothers knew that.

By the time Alyce returned from her hard shutdown and reboot, she found her wounds cleaned and wrapped, a large, black hoodie, marked with WisÅ‚a Kraká³w 1906, covering her nightgown, and herself laying on a couch inside the bunker. Six unfamiliar men filled the rest of the space inside the building, their attention as much on the monitors and preparations for an assault as upon her. Yet they noticed when she calmed and her eyes regained focus.

One of them approached, kneeled beside the couch, and said, "My name is Nic. You're safe, Heather, but from where did you come?"

"Oh no, I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go."

"We're happy you came to us. Specially Brennus, who is on his way with the others."

"But you don't understand. I created a new between Eric's world and your entryway. He's who kidnapped me. He was chasing me. I don't know if he can get through."

"Harald, take your triad and secure the passage."

"Too late, Nic." Harald said.

All eyes turned to the monitor on the wall. At their icy entrance stood a man in a black coat.

"That's Eric." Alyce said, stunned to see him. She thought he would already be running.

"Oh, is it?" Nic said, a predatory look appearing in his eyes. "I think we should let him in, before he gets cold."

When all the Boiis, except Harald, moved to the door, Alyce swung her legs off the couch, winced when bandaged feet touched the ground, but stood despite the pain. Seeing her move to follow, Nic stopped, the others continuing outside to meet their guest, and asked, "Where are you going?"

"To finish this."

Not the answer he expected nor one Nic could not argue against. Instead he nodded his head and offered his arm to lean upon, guiding her outside.

Unlike how he opened the hatches for her, Harald cycled Eric through one at a time. It gave the unwelcoming committee time to spread out, Nic and Alyce at their center, in preparation for his arrival.

When the final door slid open, Eric walked through the opening into the Boii's world. Still dressed in his black, hooded overcoat, he no longer displayed the demonic power that defined the Man with the Lantern. Like his intended victim, he too limped, proving neither escaped the chase unmarked. But he did not appear cowed. Ignoring the Boiis and the guns they pointed in his direction, he eyes settled on nearby Delphi. For a moment he stared at it curiously before he looked towards them, a familiar smile on his face.

"Ahh, good, the tour guides are here. I'll let the pretty one in the middle show me around your historical site."

"I didn't expect to see you again, Eric. I thought you would run." Alyce said.

"Well after I exhausted my supply of swear words, I stood there in shock at the realization you’d won. I did not consider running until I got over that harsh blow to my ego. However, when I did, I thought back to all of those I've chased over the years and realized none of them enjoyed the experience, I doubt I would feel any different. So I decided to go out in a blaze of glory and followed you. When I found out where you ran, I assume these are the Boiis, if so, good move, even that disappeared. All I had left was my curiosity. So here we are."

"Drop your weapons," Nic said.

Slowly Eric's hands unbuttoned his overcoat, before opening it wide, showing no weapons.

"Remove the coat."

Just as carefully, he followed the order, tossing it to his left side. Dressed in his regular t-shirt and jeans, Eric spun about, the hated smile never leaving his face. When one of the Boiis moved toward him, Alyce raised her hand to stop the man.

"Don’t approach him, he summons weapons from somewhere. It’s a trap."

"Ahh, Amelia, my dear, how can you betray your husband so. Ruining my cowardly plan to force your stern friends to kill me; death by cop, if you will. Though it’s your right, you did win, and despite my many horrific faults, I am a good sport."

"Bully for you."

Eric laughed and said, "Your treasured sarcasm is just one of the things that made you my favourite. So what's the plan? We just going to stand around all night looking at each other like idiots? If so, I should warn you, you won’t out idiot me tonight."

"Is he always this glib?" Nic asked.

"He likes to hear himself talk. Though this version of him is better than ever-so-casual, I'm-gonna-kill-you-Eric," she said, then gestured for Nic to bend over, so she could whisper a question. "What are we gonna do with him?"

"We're waiting on Brennus and his bunch, along with the leader of the Samodiva's team. They’d been preparing to set a trap to...umm..." Nic's paused and actually blushed.

"To try and catch my murderer when he dumped my corpse."

"Yes. They should be here soon."

So they stood still for nearly ten minutes and if none of them looked like idiots, neither did anybody speak. All felt relief when the hatch cycled opened and eleven people, all in winter parkas, stepped through. Five of them she recognized, when they lowered their hoods, but outside of a quick smile from Tess, none of Ilina, Brennus, Ash, or Brice spared her more than a moment's glance. Eric held their attention.

He liked that.

"Well are we all here? Or do we need to wait for someone else? If not, let me introduce myself. I’m Eric, the bad guy, who are you?"

“Nic, why is he still free?” Brennus asked, staring at Eric like someone watching a particularly hideous bug.

“Heather said he could summon weapons from the air. I didn’t want to chance it until you showed and gave us permission to shoot him where he stands?”

Ilina said, “No we want to ask him some questions.”

“I assume you’re with the Divas? Shouldn’t it be the Cabots who decide my fate, since one of theirs defeated me. I’ll tell everything to Amelia, or should I say Kenneth, but I won’t speak to anyone but her. Not even if you sink to my level. You’d really be better off killing me right now.”

“You don’t get to bargain for your life, murderer.”

“Harsh truth, from one so beautiful, yet you don’t understand. I don’t bargain for my life, I know that’s gone, I’m bargaining for my death. My offer, for up to four hours, I’ll answer any question asked by Miss Cabot, I know her too intimately to think of her as a Kenneth. You can even prompt her, but in return, at the end of those four hours, one of you will fight me. If I win, which we know is unlikely, you give me a day’s head start, if I lose, well you will be smarter than you are now.”

Unbothered by his attempt to embarrass her, of course she slept with him, this bunch prepared her to do so if needed, Alyce found herself wanting to go along with his plan. Maybe a bit of Stockholm Syndrome, but others reason existed. First, she knew he deserved to die, no doubt existed as to his guilt, and she expect to feel no remorse when it happened. The same would not be true if they sank to his level, which may be the case if they handed him to the Divas. She liked Ilina and Tess, but suspected their organization held some true nasties who would put him to the question.

They would want to learn about his accomplices, would not believe he did not need any, but she believed. In fact Alyce suspected she knew when he told the truth better than anyone, which offered another reason. If she heard his answers, she could distinguish the truth from lies. At the same time, maybe protect his friends, the solitaries, from persecution.

But most importantly, she wanted to stop being afraid. If they took him away, locked him up, she would always wonder, worry he might escape and come after her. And newfound power Alyce could not control, did not offer much comfort.

“Ilina, let’s take the offer,” she said.

“What? Why?”

“I just want it finished.”

Ilina did not allow this argument as much power over her decision making as had Nic, but she could not deny her own desire to end it. Only the expectations of her order argued against that approach and those faded when Brice reiterated his viewpoint.

“Better to end it now. Besides, Heather’s earned the right to decide for us all.”

An anticlimactic end, but soothing to Alyce's frazzled nerves. In fact, towards the forty five mark, she left the questioning to the others, Eric warming to a larger audience with whom he could share his brilliance.

Compulsively he searched for victims, the appetizer in his meal of terror. He explained how he always ran an appearance recognition spell, targeted at smaller town newspapers, where pictures of pretty girls, active in their community, provided a staple in space utilization. How he maintained records on hundreds at a time, weeding the list down by any number of arbitrary reasons. Though he never settled on a target until he assured her extraction. Flitting between university town and university town, trying to get a temporary moving or delivery job, so he could magic a door into as many mattresses as possible.

All him, he proudly bragged. Why trust others with your darkest secrets when you did not need their help.

When he started in on his wealth, how he played the stock market, the ways he harvested during war, Alyce could no longer take it. She hobbled back into the bunker, Brennus and Tess keeping her company, not demanding anything from her, silently keeping her company, providing the warmth of humanity and friendship she'd long missed.

At one point, Ash came inside to get a drink, a sword now belted at his wait. Understanding of people, rather than telepathy prompted him to answer unasked questions. "No, Brennus, this is for me to do, it is why you made me your champion. Be happy getting the girl. Don't worry, Heather."

She said, "He's good. He has a forest full of constructs on which he practices."

"I practice with my brothers, living and thinking men born to fight, hardened in battle uncounted. Any of them could slap this mite in oblivion, but it’s my job. I won the right by being our best."

At the right time he left the bunker, replaced by Ilina, who did not want to watch. Soon after Brice appeared and said, "They're tossing him off the ledge."

"It's over, Heather." Brennus said, pulling her tighter to his side with the arm wrapped around her shoulders."

"Could you all call me Alyce?"

---

Epilogue

As they drove through the streets, Alyce looked for things she remembered. But in thirty years, much can change, not least yourself. Yet the school, the store, the park, all looking older, provided a needed anchor to the past.

Nervous, she pulled down the sun visor to check herself in the mirror.

"Don't worry, Alyce, you look great," Brennus said from the driver seat.

Not taking his word, duty demanded him to say that, she adjusted a few strands of hair, before deciding he spoke the truth. Five months of relaxation, after her ordeal, cleansed most of the horror from her eyes. During that time she became a sun worshiper, loving its warmth and the sound of happy people at a beach. She’d laid about all across the Southern Hemisphere, from Sydney, where the bikinis were small, too Ipanema, where they were smaller.

"So much so she will likely join the long line of those who see me as a cradle robber."

"You are two millennia older than I am, and that's after rounding down. Besides people on that list probably think I am a gold digger."

"Good thing you're rich. I don't have to worry about you taking advantage of me while I'm taking advantage of you."

Something she owed to her unlamented, fake husband. The pretend marriage proved real enough that, with the help of her family and the Divas, along with the embarrassment of the solitaires who knew Eric, she inherited most of the wealth he bragged about in the end. Stocks, property, even her very own world. As long as she stayed away from Hambley Manor and Hambley Woods, the world provided an escape when she needed quiet. And without access to Beck, she doubted she would keep the long hair she vainly enjoyed.

But other than that contact, particularly after she rebuffed a Diva request to change her appearance so people did not confuse her with Heather, Alyce did not have any official contact with either group.

Tess and Ilina, particularly the former, remained good friends, but they did not talk business. While the Cabots, happy with her safety, pleased with her role in earning a favour from the Divas, and worried about her new powers, something those in the know realized when they heard her new name, returned to mostly ignoring her. All except her father, who instantly understood a benefit to her change.

So he recruited Brennus to help her create a new identity. Brennus readily agreed. He liked her very much, knew she sometimes still needed to feel protected, enjoyed how they could silently share companionship, welcomed her independence that allowed them to part for days or weeks without judgment, and hoped that if she one day reversed the Cabot curse, as she planned, she could also reverse that cast by Pythia.

The two men's plan lead to Brennus joining Angus's "company". Which resulted in her wearing another wedding gown, sporting an enormous rock on her finger, and adding adding Prausi after Alyce on her id. The next phase brought them to a street and in front of a house at which she stared. Not until her door opened, Brennus there to help her from her seat in their Escalade did she blink.

"Don't be nervous, Alyce."

"I wish I could let her know who I really am. Though I doubt she could believe it. Do think she will like me?"

"From what you and Angus say, I expect your mother will love you. He says you won't be the first wife, whose husband travels so much due to the business, who she wants to mother."

"I wish I could call her that for real."