Night had fallen. The last bits of day were fading color-echoes at the sky's edge. Soon, they, too, would be gone.

I was scared out of my mind. The only reason I didn't break down right then and ether and plummet out of the sky like one of the Vyx's downed spaceships was because of everyone and everything that was depending on me. I was overwhelmed almost to the point of disassociation. I mean, back there… had that really happened? Did I just see what I thought I'd seen? Nothing felt real anymore, least of all the memory of the Pit's icy presence burning into my hide. I could have sworn I'd seen something churning in its depths, but there was no chance in heck of me stopping to go to investigate it further.

Even Brand would have agreed with me.

Time was not on my side, and not just because of the Darkness.

The Vyxit attack squadrons were making their approach on Fort Marteneiss. In a matter of minutes, all hell would break loose, on the ground, anyhow. It had already broken loose up in the air.

The tempest of war loomed large on the horizon in a tangle of wyrms, metal, lasers, spores, and flame. The battle was widening, spreading out across the land and the sky. Vyx vehicles and Vyxit ground troops stormed across the landscape like phosphorescent ants, firing their beams at the fungus in their midst. Rice-grain pods launched skyward from the surface; I'd seen it before, but hadn't known what it meant, and still didn't, though I noticed that they were far less frequent than before.

All that remained was to return to my family, and to show them the Angel's handiwork.

Assuming there was still enough time.

That, and deal with the incoming Vyxit forces.

From a distance, the fleet inbound for Fort Marteneiss looked like a school of silvery minnows. The ships grew in size as I neared the Fort.

I glanced at the Sword, clasped in my claws. It thrummed in response to my presence. I couldn't help feel that it was watching me.

"Do you have any explanation for that?" I asked Suisei.

"None whatsoever," he answered. "Maybe it's different for wyrms."

"Or maybe it's just reacting to &alon's power," I suggested. "What about these preset 'tabs'?"

"They were there when I found it," Suisei replied. "Maybe the reaction you're getting is some sort of automated assistant protocol?"

"Maybe…" I said.

I'd split off a secondary consciousness for the express purpose of marveling at it, and both of us were still at a loss for words. It was easier to list the ironies.

All my life, I'd secretly prayed for the Angel to intervene and use His power to set our world right. Whether or not finding the Sword as I had counted as a miracle, even if it did, the irony of it—the very emblem of the Angel's power—falling into my hands only after I'd given up on ever believing in Him—or anything else—ever again was almost too much to bear.

A punch in the face wouldn't have been half as cruel as it.

More irony: even with the Sword in hand, it wasn't like Tachyon Azon was actually with me.

As Ooüm had told Suisei: Azon was dead. He'd been dead ever since the Lass took up His blade.

It was hard not to think of that as symbolic.

We really were alone in all this: we, the living, up against the forces of a cruel, indifferent world.

The ruins of Fort Marteneiss soon came into view. Several wyrms had already flown up to meet me before I'd even begun to land, including Brigadier General Watterson.

I looked at the Sword, and then at them, and nodded.

"What the fuck?!" Slick roared. "What the fuck?!"

The wyrms put some distance between themselves and me, staring at the holy blade in terrified wonder.

"You weren't kidding when you said you were going to bring back a miracle," Watterson said.

"Ma'am! Ma'am!" Lt. Dueright cried. He pointed at the sky. "The enemy is inbound!"

"Wait," I said, "let me sing it to you! It's important!"

I couldn't in good conscience let them get caught up in fighting the Vyxit without understanding the gravity of what I'd just escaped. There was a bit of back and forth between us after that, but all of it transpired in a matter of seconds, carried to and fro by our song.

"What are we supposed to do against something like that?" Watterson asked.

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"I don't know," I replied.

I'd made a point of emphasizing that, as far as I understood it, I hadn't defeated the Darkness. I'd just disabled it—and not all of it; only a part.

"Do you think it will recover?" Lt. Dueright asked.

I started to answer the question, but then stopped myself.

"Do you really want to know what I think?" I asked.

"I feel like what I've seen is just the beginning. I think the Darkness is… waking up."

Overhead, beyond the battle approaching us, the Night seemed to hunger.

"I have a feeling something terrible is about to happen."

"And if you're right?" someone asked. "What do we do?"

"I just told you," I said, "I don't know."

"But you have the Sword of the Angel!" a spirit cried. "You're the second coming of the Lass! You're her successor! You're chosen! You're Blessèd!"

I let my would-be followers down as gently as I cared to.

"You call me that if you like, but I am who I am, nothing more, nothing less. I don't have the answer. None of us do. All we have are our hopes."

Even now, it's still kind of crazy to think all of that was conveyed through a few seconds of polyphony.

Brigadier General Watterson glanced back at the cowering members of the First Trenton Wyrm Brigade. "C'mon people! Get to your posts! Move! Move!"

She didn't need to tell me twice.

I turned away and flew to the bunker. Watterson nearly started chasing me, screaming in disbelief, when she instead cursed and doubled back.

The inbound Vyxit would be here any second.

The Sword pulsed in my grip.

As I landed, I whipped up my spore-containing fishbowl helmet forcefield. I glanced back and up right before slithering down into the underground parking lot.

Points of red had begun to gleam on the approaching Vyx modules' hulls.

They were charging their death rays.

I turned away and moved underground, keeping a tight grip on the Sword.

Vernon phased into being in front of me as I slithered up to the bunker door. "Genneth, what are you doing?! They need your help up there!"

"I'm sorry General, but I'm going to help myself, first. My family needs me, and I made a promise to them. Once the Vyxit arrive, it will be too late."

I didn't have any time to lose.

I used my powers to open the bunker door.

Please, let it work, I thought. Let it fix this. Please.

Jules and Rayph sat on the floor, lying against the wall. They weren't looking good. &alon's black mycelium was branching up their necks.

"Dad—" Jules started to speak, only to gawk in shock as she caught a glimpse of the Sword through the doorway.

She coughed up a storm.

She and her brother struggled to get to their feet, but I stuck out my palm, signaling them to stop.

I called upon my powers. Glistening blue and gold threads blossomed from my body and streamed into the bunker. Gently, they slid himself under Pelbrum's lithe, limp form and raised her into the air.

I floated her out into the garage.

I wrapped her blanket around her, bundling her up tight, and then shaped a stream of spores into a message that I hoped my children would still know how to read.

I'm going to try to ripen your mother, I wrote.

Rayph coughed up black ooze. "You can do that?"

Jules lifted her hand, ready to give her brother a curt reply, only to slump back against the wall.

She was too tired to snark, and too disgusted by the moment to try.

I hope so, I wrote.

I remembered Suisei had said that the range of abilities wyrms could use were significantly limited compared to his. He could manipulate all the forces of nature. I, on the other hand, had only the power of motion, and, even then, only at the macroscopic level. Suisei could boil water by vibrating its molecules until they broke free of their bonds and turned to vapor; I couldn't. Given that the Sword worked as an amplifier, it could only work with what I was capable of doing.

Or so I'd thought.

Well, no, not exactly.

As long as the Sword proffered the weave, I could activate it even if it wasn't the kind of pataphysics I was privy to as a wyrm.

I just hoped it would be enough.

Enough dawdling!

The time had come.

I wasn't strong enough to look at what Pel's body had become. I'd already caught a glimpse of it, and to this day, what I saw still haunts me beyond words.

Most of her hair was gone. And her face. And the ulcers…

For my sanity's sake, I layered a hyperphantasy of Pel's healthy appearance over her body. It was a simple fix. I soon had her looking as she always had each night, when I slunk into bed and snuggled close to her under the covers.

Then, her eyes opened just a hair, and—miracle of miracles—she spoke.

I wished her voice had been vital and happy, instead of the rough, frail, hushed warble that limped out of her mouth.

"Genneth… where… where are you? I… I can't see." Her words were butterflies to death's door.

All my snout-holes trembled. I wanted to answer her. I wanted to tell her that I was there, but I couldn't, and that broke me.

And that's when everything went to hell.

The ground shook. My children screamed. Explosions thundered outside. Up through the exit ramp, I watched death rays stream down in red dawn.

I slithered toward the light, bearing my wife along with me.

"No… no no no!"

The ruins exploded. Devastation columned into the Night.

I yelled: "I need more time!"

Talk about irony. Here I was, trying to give my wife the time she needed to ripen, when I myself didn't have any time to give.

"Genneth!" Suisei yelled.

The Sword pulsed in my grip.

You, I thought.

I turned my gaze toward it. "You, you helped me! When the Darkness attacked me, you saved me by banishing it!"

I would use the Sword to make the time I so dearly needed.

I slithered halfway up the exit ramp and looked up into the Night.

Beast and Queen, the sky was filled with silver. It was a deluge.

I grabbed the Sword's hilt in both hands. "Please, help me!" I shook it. "I need more time! Holy Light, I need more time! You owe me! You owe all of us!" I glanced down at my wife. "Help me save her, please! Please!"

The Sword pulsed in my grip, and something within it responded. Through my wyrmsight, the wheels of preset tabs whirled around of their own volition. Its curving spindles revolved in place, like a mechanism shifting gears, only to stop.

One "tab" seemed to stick out above the rest.

Did that mean I was supposed to use it?

Threads of magic blossomed from it like fairy wings. The weaves fluttered, waiting for power.

"Genneth?" Mr. Himichi asked.

I didn't hesitate. I let my power—&alon's power—flow, pouring it into the Sword.

I refused to give up. Not after I'd come this far.

The woven magic glistened as it spread wide. Waves of energy swept out from the Sword in quick succession. Each one was a veil of mirage that undulated as it hung in the air. Dreaming particles fluxed in and out of being around the Sword, glistering in many colored, self-similar patterns.

"Look…" Nina said.

Everything…

"What the fuck is happening?" Vernon asked.

I slithered up to the surface.

Everything was… slowing down.

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