Nurse Costran took it the hardest. Yuth was the first to speak out in protest once Brand told them the awful truth. I'd told Brand about the five stages of grief as they were traditionally understood: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. He heard them flash by in Yuth's song, like a chord, only without any trace of acceptance. Dr. Rathpalla tried to counsel her, but she just said, "Leave me alone," and flew away.

Larry, who—as Brand understood it—was in a relationship with her went after her, only to come back a short while after with his head hanging heavily.

At this time, her reaction surprised Brand, though, once I learned about it, it made perfect sense to me. Yuth had been one of my most adamant supporters, and by extension, one of &alon's. She'd made repeated attempts to get me to accept a leadership position among the wyrms, because of my connection to &alon. Even if I'd been there to help, I don't think I'd have been able to comfort Yuth enough to keep her from fleeing. Heck, I wouldn't have had the heart to do so!

Why would I tell her to ignore the despair the relegation made her feel when I wasn't willing to do the same?

When Larry came back from his failed attempt to bring Yuth back into the fold, Merritt asked him why she was taking it so poorly.

"Though she doesn't show it, Yuth is quite religious," he said.

"Yes," Mrs. Elbock replied, "I remember Genneth telling me about how Lassedicy surged in popularity in the Costranaks ever since the end of the Third Crusade."

"Other than me," Larry said, "Yuth's faith was all she had left. We don't even know what happened to her family. Now, that's all gone. She says she doesn't know if she has a reason to keep on living anymore." The janitor hung his head low. "It makes me feel like shit. I should be able to make her pain go away. I tried, fuck, I tried. But… it's not easy to smile when you see the person you love hurting like this."

Brand really didn't know what to say, and that hurt. A lot. He knew he wasn't the best in social situations, but most of the time, he was able to float above that failure in blissful ignorance. But not here. Here, he was painfully aware of his limitations.

Yuth's reaction was prototypical of how the WeElMed wyrms took it. Nobody took the news well. Nearly everyone had congregated in or around the first level of the garage to hear the tale but by the time Brand finished sharing, many others had followed Yuth's example. They simply couldn't bear the truth. However, the majority stayed, listening through to the end, though Brand almost wished they hadn't. The sense of hopelessness pervading the garage and the rest of the hospital's ruins was so thick, Brand could see it as it weighed everyone down, drooping heads and neck, coiling bodies in disillusioned heaps. Tira, the receptionist, had grabbed a small car and held it like it was a giant stuffed animal, squeezing and squeezing until it was crushed beyond the point of recognition. Larry the janitor was especially agitated, doubly so after he came back from his failed attempt to console the woman he loved. He was a pacing snake, slithering back and forth, stopping now and then to bemoan himself and bellow and lament. At one point, he launched a car at a wall, and then held it there with his powers and crushed it like a pancake.

Of all the reactions, Brand felt Dr. Rathpalla put it best: "I guess the road to hell really is paved with good intentions."

Like me, they'd all come to view &alon as the Moonlight Queen. That viewpoint stuck, even after Brand told them what &alon really was. In their eyes, that meant that not only were the Angel and the Hallowed Beast dead, but the last remaining Person of the triune Godhead was the very evil that had taken everything from them.

A few of the more religious survivors—wyrm or not—went so far as to start praying for atheism, as if, if they believed in disbelief with all of their hearts, maybe, just maybe, it would make our evil Queen disappear.

If only it had been that easy.

Everything they'd believed was wrong. It was nonsense through and through, borne from hearts and minds so desperate to know, that they imagined, rather than understood. Maybe it would have been easier to bear if it had been a well-intentioned lie. But it wasn't, and it couldn't be.

Falsehood didn't exist in a vacuum.

It was terribly easy to be wrong. Anything short of a perfect answer was, technically, wrong to one degree or another, and there would never be a shortage of imperfections. But to actively be in the wrong? To move away from greater understanding? To spite it?

Well, that was a horse of another color altogether.

It was inevitable that the conversation topic changed. It had to. Even with all his curiosity, Brand found himself getting sick of giving the explanation by the time he reached its end.

Karl ended up being the one to change the subject.

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"Those things in the sky," he asked. "What are they?"

"Strangers from another world," Brand said. "At least, that's my current hypothesis." He lowered his head in shame. "Though, at the rate we've been going, I wouldn't be surprised if I learned that hypothesis was just another crock of shit."

Though he still wanted to study them, Brand hadn't realized just how devastating the truth about &alon really was. He was used to me getting emotional—I certainly did it often enough when we lunched together, especially if I'd been having a rough time at things—but seeing the desolation in all the others' reactions put the revelation in a whole new light.

Brand loved learning because it gave him everything he ever wanted to share with anyone else. Research was lonely work. Sharing it with others was what made it worthwhile, more so than any prizes or honors.

That, and getting praised. Brand liked being praised. Now, though, he had nothing good to say about himself. He felt bad for having even shown any interest in the Strangers at all. The others probably thought his eagerness was callous of him, even though he hadn't had any ill-intentions.

Merritt, perhaps picking up on this, filled in the gaps for the others in Brand's stead. "We saw dropships." She glanced at Dr. Nowston before shooting a nervous stare at the garage exit. "There were landing pods. Creatures came out of them."

Larry stopped and turned around, mane bristling. "Creatures?" Larry. "You're telling me there's more of this shit?"

"Yes." Merritt nodded.

"What kind of creatures?" Karl asked.

"Silver, armored, possibly humanoid," Brand said, with a sigh.

Larry growled. "Perhaps?"

"I didn't get a good look at them," Brand said. "I was kind of busy trying not to get Mrs. Elbock and I cut in half or burnt to a crisp."

"I thought you wanted to study them," Merritt said.

Brand's horns pressed against the back of his head. Or, at least, that's what it felt like they were doing.

"I… I'm sorry about that. I know it wasn't appropriate, considering the circumstances. I—"

"—Brand, I'm not judging you for it," she said. "Genneth talks about you often; at least he did, before the world ended. You can do incredible things with that mind of yours, Dr. Nowston. It's something to be proud of."

Mr. Elbock materialized beside his wife. "It's like I tell Merritt: be proud of what makes you happy, because if you're not, no one else will do it for you."

Brand nodded shakily. "Th-thank you, sir. That's…" Brand wished he could have smiled. "That's very kind of you."

And, somehow, the dismal mood in the air seemed to weigh a little less heavily on everyone.

"Where is Mr. Clawless?" Charles asked.

Merritt looked up at the ceiling. "He's still out there… fighting. I hope he's alright." She lowered her head and clasped her claws together. "I hope Genneth is alright, too," she added. "I hope—"

"—Well… what are we gonna do now?" Tira asked. "Are we going to have to fight these Strangers?"

That was the name everyone had agreed upon for the new threat.

"Go ahead if you want," Bethany said, with a sporey snort, "you'll probably end up dead."

"We might not have a choice," Karl said. "If &alon seizes control of us, we'll be forced to fight the Strangers, just like all the other silver-eyes."

"You heard that message from &alon about fighting," Maryon said. "She wants us to hide. Maybe it's because we aren't experienced enough."

"She told us to protect our ghosts," Dr. Rathpalla said. "If harvesting people's souls is the point of all this, it would make sense that she doesn't want to risk us getting hurt until our cargo has safely arrived at its intended destination."

"Speaking of destinations," Brand said, "both Genneth and &alon said that &alon was going to be taking us away soon. And, with all the silver-eyed wyrms flying about, I've got a feeling that's gonna be happening sooner, rather than later."

"You assume we'd want to go," Larry said.

That comment led to an argument, and then to another, and another. Things quickly became heated. Some wyrms—Larry, chief among them—said they'd rather be killed by the Strangers than have anything to do with &alon.

Meanwhile, Karl took the opposite stance.

"How will more deaths make any of this better?" he asked. He'd summoned the spirit of Geoffrey Athelmarch to provide some tactical arguments, and to make a few stirring remarks about the sanctity of life.

"We are outmatched and outgunned," Count Athelmarch said. "Going forward, survival is what matters. You have to survive before you can find justice."

"The garage goes down quite a ways," Brand said. "I think our best bet would be to hunker down and hide until &alon makes her move."

"What will that move look like?" Dr. Rathpalla asked. "And how will we know when it happens?"

"Honestly," Brand said, "I have no idea. She wasn't exactly overflowing with details about the subject."

"I can't believe any of you still think what &alon says is worth trusting," Nathan said, spitting out spores onto a wrecked car. "I, for one, do not. As far as I'm concerned, we're on our own. We have to find some way to escape her."

"We're made of &alon," Brand said. "Our bodies are part of her. She'll be with us no matter where we go. Besides, even if we could find a way to break free of her influence, you've seen what the Strangers can do. You've seen how big their ships are. If their dogfighters can cut through skyscrapers, just think of what their flagships might be capable of doing. I agree with Ms. Palmwitch. We should hide. Oh, and, don't forget, we still have Greg."

The giant wyrm's song thundered up from the ramp down to the next floor of the garage, all the way up from the third floor down.

"If those asshats ever cause any of you guys any trouble, just let me know, and I will end them!"

"Good to know," Brand said.

"Did Genneth say anything about what &alon will do with the wyrms she turned into trees?" Dr. Rathpalla asked.

Brand shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

The psychiatrist turned to face the ramp down to the next level of the garage.

"Well, then," he said, "I know what I have to do."

"What?" Merritt asked.

The psychiatrist glanced at her.

"I made a promise to Dr. Howle. Dr. Derric is trapped in Letty Kathaldri, down in the lower levels, along with who-knows-how many other souls. I promised I would rescue Jonan's soul from Letty's clutches, and now, with the possibility that, when &alon comes for us, the wyrm-trees might get left behind, it's all the more reason to act quickly, before those souls get left behind to rot or disappear."

Brand tilted his head to the side. "Does this mean—"

"—Yes." Dr. Rathpalla nodded. "I'm off to do a bit of rescuing. Call it an emergency psychiatric intervention, if you want." He looked around the garage. "Does anyone want to come with me?"

Larry slithered up to him. "I'll go. I've been wanting to give that bitch a piece of my mind."

"What about the rest of us?" Karl asked.

"Whatever your conscience tells you to," Dr. Rathpalla replied.

Then Larry and Ibrahim slithered off into the depths.

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