No, he thought to himself, this is wrong. There must be another way.

Yet try as he might, the Omethiä could think of no other choice.

He looked over his shoulder once more. All he could hear were the sucking noises of hooves working through the thick mud of the hillside and the steeds labored breathing.

He’d gotten away without being noticed.

Pulling back the reigns, the brilliant white stallion gratefully slowed, its powerful chest heaving from the exertion, finally coming to a halt upon the flat mountain cliff.

It had been nearly an hour since the Omethiä had fled. Each step was carefully laced with misdirection, spells of concealment and using the nearly forgotten art of ghosting. This was just to get outside the protective walls of the towers. It took time to pass through the sentry-protected streets of the city. Evolu trained to peer through shadow, notice the softest whisper and to watch the patterns of animals. The Omethiä, however, was the oldest, wisest and most powerful of his people—not a schoolboy or unseasoned member of the guard. He still possessed skills exclusive to his calling—ones that made him a formable foe in any environment.

Checking his cargo, stored an intricately weaved basket strapped to the side of his saddle, the old evolu slid gracefully from the animal. Letting his fingers slide up the large muscled neck, he touched the horses forehead with his own. “Kiitos Nopeus,” he whispered in the ancient tongue. “We made it,” he added in common, “though to what end I wonder.” His head fell back as his view shot to the heavens—the place where the wise most often looked for answers.

The stars were out in their brilliance, a billion billion flecks of diamond-dust, each representing a sun much like his own and according to the Evolu beliefs, at least one inhabited planet revolving around it. The full moon shone bright in the sky, its hypnotic blue light calming the soul…but there were no answers to be found this night. It was strange. To seek for the right path, but to find nothing? Not once had the Omethiä been denied the most trivial of knowledge form the gods if it could not be found through books or experience…but tonight and for the past fortnight, not a single clue. Not a whisper from the heavens.

Could I be wrong, he wondered. Am I wrong in agreeing to this? What truly troubled him wasn’t the choice he was making, but the natural consequences which would soon follow. She’ll hate me forever. The last love of my life and I will lose her over this. I know it.

Again his eyes looked to the cargo—the single basket strapped securely to the side of his saddle.

Weathered hands still strong and nimble, worked the leather strands. Patting Nopeus again in gratitude, the Omethiä gripped the basket tightly to his chest.

If I cannot know thy will, then I will stay the course to the best of the the knowledge and wisdom thou hast given to me.

Leaves, carried by the early morning breeze, rolled through the low grass and up over his feet as he wandered to the edge of the cliff. His people were still slumbering. The lights of the city below mirrored the stars overhead, crafted by design. Small crystals, shaped by skilled hands and enchanted lanterns, could be seen reflected across thousands of pools scattered among the lush landscape of his people. Vines and trees, some hundreds of years old, were shaped and trained to look as if nature had grow to fit their every need. Some of the largest trunks bent low to provide beams for buildings and aching patios, others meshed together in great fans and walls to magnificent gardens. The oldest and strongest of the tree were painstakingly encouraged into winding staircases, wrapping around one another to form enormous spiraled cathedrals. All this was possible because of the nourishing natural springs underground.

The City of Many Waters, it was called—and home to what the children of men called ‘elves’.

Asa-Illariu was the homeland of the evolu. An island of peace and tranquility.

Not lies and deception.

“Are you certain this is the right path to take?” he asked aloud, setting the basket gently at his feet. “Never have I sought answers from the stars and been denied,” he added, “It is not a good omen.”

For long moments the words fell into the breeze of the night.

A robed figure slid out from behind a knotted willow.

“I’m still puzzled how you can do that,” said the stranger, his smirk tainting his tone. “My breathing was controlled, body completely concealed…yet you still knew I was here?”

The Omethiä smiled as he glanced over his shoulder. “It is not difficult when you know and understand the heartbeat of your own lands, old friend. Animals are quiet when in the presence of a predator or among their masters. Yet with you, they are uncommonly so.” With a short bow, he added, “Thus one may know when in the presence of the Great Gnolaum.”

The Gnolaum—a name which meant ‘eternal’, was also known by the races as ‘the hero’…a champion of the people and the host of the great Ithari gem.

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” he grumbled.

The evolu shrugged, “Yet that is who you are, though I shall always call you friend.”

Shrugging, “You might not, after tonight.” Delicate rays of grey-blue moonlight cast pale ripples across his body as the hero stepped into full view and pulled back the hood of his robe. “Can’t we have a plain conversation, Irithian—just this once? As a favor to me, just speak with me as equals, alright? As friends.” His rough cut eyepatch looked like a void across his face, while his thick eyebrows cast shadows over his good eye. Only the lines above his cheeks and the slight curves rolling upward from the corners of his mouth revealed his playful sarcasm. “Just pretend, eh?” He paced slowly closer .

As he passed the stallion, the great beast bowed its head and knelt forward on one leg.

“Leave us,” the Gnolaum whispered, giving the beast a light pat on its muscular neck. “Return for your master when the morning sun rises.”

With a snort and a shake of its mane, the stallion galloped away, leaving the two mägo alone.

“That was my transportation,” the Omethiä said with a sigh, watching his faithful steed vanish down the winding path.

Waving his hand through the air, the tracks of the horse smoothed out, leaving no trace of where the beast had been. Small blades of grass pushed their way up through the ground, to look as if the trail had never been used. “He will return when we are through with our business,” the hero replied soberly. “We have much to discuss and little time for interruptions.” He gestured to the basket, now all but hidden behind the Omethiä’s frame. “You have done as I asked I see.”

Irithian did not move. “I have.”

The hero took another step closer, holding his arms out, palms upward. “May I?”

Wise eyes watched the greatest warrior ever born With each exacted step, the elf shifted from foot to foot nervously. This is wrong, he thought again. Yet this time, he took hold to the warning beat of his heart.

“No,” he said resolutely, “You may not.”

The hero stopped mid-step. “No?” he repeated, confused. “We’ve already discussed…”

Irithian shook his head slowly, “We have discussed nothing. You sent me word upon a spellbound scroll and because of the urgency and our profound history together, I heeded your warning and obeyed your instructions. Yet from the moment I took that first step outside the great tower my heart has screamed in protest. Something is very wrong.” His head lowered, plunging what little of his face could be seen into deep shadow, “You will not have what you asked for until you explain.” He blinked slowly. His keen eyes, which had already adapted to the dim light of the moon, watching the shifting features of the Gnolaum. “…and I am satisfied with you answers.”

Hands lowered to the hero’s side, his countenance falling. “Ah.” The one good eye dropped and stayed locked on the basket. “So that’s how it’s going to be, is it?” He shrugged, “You might not like what you hear.”

The Omethiä shifted his position, widening his stance to hide the basket from view. The move broke the stare of the hero. “You are asking me to commit the blackest of crimes!”

Looking about him, the hero found a large boulder with moss forming down one said—and he took a seat. “Well that’s not really accurate, now is it? First of all, I didn’t make you do anything. This was done by your own free will and choice—so don’t place the blame on me. On the other hand, technically you already committed the crime, Irithian. Oh don’t stare at me like that—besides, you’ll be overjoyed to know you’re actually wrong on both counts.”

“If I let you do this you will destroy…”

“Save!” the hero snapped loudly. His head snapped up, gritting his teeth, “You look like you’re suddenly having second thoughts, so let’s call the exactly what it is, shall we? What I’m doing is saving not destroying. Tread lightly Omethiä, for we both know I don’t require the stars to receive my answers!” With the rise in tone, a circular light pulsed from the center of the Gnolaum’s chest, shining through the thick cloth of the robe. “In three days time you will have a visitor,” he grumbled, “though I think it would be more accurate to call him an invader. One that will require all your magical prowess and that of your finest mägo to repel from your lands.”

The Omethiä flinched at the words.

“That’s right, old friend,” the tone dripped with irritation, “we don’t need to have this part of the conversation, do we? We both know of whom I speak—of the atrocity which occurred under your own roof?” A smile wriggled across his face then. “What? You’re surprised that I would know such things? So afraid of the influence Alaria would have upon men, you failed in your great wisdom to see that darkness would seek such beauty out. So what do you choose to do? Lock your infant daughter in her own tower, away from the eyes of society and sealing her ignorance within!”

Irithian’s legs buckled under the weight of the accusations. He stumbled forward and grabbed a low hanging branch for support. “I…I didn’t know,” he gasped pleadingly. “She was all I had left.” Bright blue eyes glossed over as memories invaded his mind. “All I….”

For long moments he watched the evolu, swaying in the breeze, as if he were about to collapse—caught within some mental struggle. Even in the moonlight, the hero could see the torment plaguing Irithian’s countenance. It was the pain of a father…and it was a pain the hero knew all too well.

“I shouldn’t have spoken so lightly,” he finally said aloud. There was no reaction from his elder friend. The Omethiä continued to sway from side to side, locked in silent memories. “Irithian…truly, I am sorry my friend. Please forgive me.”

The Omethiä blinked once, then again. His chin lifted until their eyes met. “I only did what I thought was best, but…without Illandria here to…,” he faltered.

“I know,” the Gnolaum replied softly, “she will always be missed. We all have felt your loss, Irithian, but what’s done is done. He will come for the child soon.”

Now it was the Omethiä who snapped. “How do you know?” Eyes now open to new questions searched the worn and haggard face of the human. “HOW DO YOU KNOW SUCH THINGS!?” he yelled, his fists clutched in fists so tight, his knuckles turned bone white. “How can you know all this when you have never set foot in my beautiful city??”

“Because I have seen it.”

As if to second the ill omen, the soft white glow pulsed once more beneath his robes, a circle centered upon the Gnolaum’s chest. “The very demon that spawned the child will return for his reward. He wants that child, to groom and prepare him.”

“To what end?” Irithian complained, “None of this is making sense. There is no stratagem in this!”

“Ah,” the hero breathed loudly, standing upright, “but there is. The Dark One has already corrupted what was thought to be incorruptible. To the rest of the world, you have been tainted. As word spreads from people to people of your daughters folly, you will lose credibility, and in turn, the confidence which once lived in the hearts of your allies.”

A cold wind whipped through the trees, enveloping them both. An owl silently swooped overhead in search of prey.

“You will continue to lose your influence over the nations, Irithian. In time, your own people will become vulnerable. Open to ridicule and scorn…no longer being a nation living above and beyond reproach.”

It was true. The very foundation the evolu people lived upon, that of a pure and undefiled morality, had been taken from them. Not only from them as a people—but through the greatest and most revered  family among them: The Prophet-Father.

It was the Omethiä (the Head Speaker) who talked with the gods, read the times of the stars and spoke the ancient languages of the elements. He was the one who represented the highest principles of truth, virtue, compassion and wisdom in mortality—and also seen by all nations as a righteous judge. His wife, the Omäthä (Speaker), was the voice of life—or of those who had the sacred honor of bearing the souls of mortals. In the realm of the evolu, there was nothing more honored, respected or treasured than the life of a virtuous female. The Omäthä had a bond with all living and an exceptional power for healing. Last was the Omä-es (Messenger), who testified to the truth of the parents and acted as the mouth, to see that the will of the mind and heart were done among the people—through patience, love and without compulsion means.

This was the sheer power of the evolu nation: Wisdom, Discipline & Agency.

Was.

For the first time in the history of their race, a female had died in childbirth.

Not just any female, but the Lady Illandria, the Omäthä herself.

The Evolu nation mourned the loss of its greatest female oracle…and took it as the darkest of signs. All eyes turned to the child, who would now be required to bear the burden of both mother and daughter. She was pronounced Alaria, after the first star of the East seen at night. A star used to navigate by both wanderer and seasoned captain.

“You have all but sealed your fate, old friend,” started the hero, his tone softening, “For it was required of you to remarry. To take a soulmate and heal the wounds of your people, but you refused. We all have the right to choose for ourselves, of course, but there are consequences for all actions, all choices. If I remember the law correctly, you had seventeen cycles to rebuild your foundation. You waited too long. Now the fate of your people, for the third time, rests upon your daughter. How much can a child bear?”

Irithian’s eyes reached across the dark gap between them. “I have destroyed my people.”

The hero shook his head and walked forward, taking the evolu firmly by the shoulders. “No you haven’t, Irithian. Look at me. Not yet you haven’t…and that’s why I’m here. To help you—even though you can’t see it yet. There’s a crack in the wall before us, a place where we can slip through to save everyone,” he smiled then, “including your family.”

The wrinkles in the elf’s face scrunched together in confusion. “But…that is not…our fate is sealed, Gnolaum. My daughter has been corrupted, you indeed spoke the truth.”

Chuckling, “Now what have I said about the stubbornness of elves?”

The Omethiä went ridged under the grip.

“Come onnnnn, say it.”

Frowning, the Omethiä’s lips curled slowly to form each word in near silence, “That…we are the…fools of fools…”

Grinning wide, the hero did not let the elf pull loose. “Whyyyyy?” he said louder.

Eyes squinting, “…because we dare not look past our…noses…for fear we might find a world unlike our own.”

“Hah!” The hero clapped briskly, snorting and spinning about on the balls of his feet. “THAT felt good to hear!” Unfortunately he was the only one amused.

“For over a hundred years you have mentioned this in jest, but I fail to appreciate your rude humor towards our beliefs. I would never speak in such a manner if I were the vessel of the Ithari.”

The hero laughed then, out loud, “Which is probably one of the reasons none you have ever been given this blood-sucking gem in the first place! You never seem to realize, Irithian, that I’m trying to defend you from yourself.” Slapping the Omethiä on the back, “This is about looking at the fine print!”

“Fine…print?”

“Of the contract.”

Frowning, “I have not entered into any contract.”

“UNGH!” Throwing his hands in the air, the hero paced the grass between them. “You’re failing to see the obvious—the lie within the truth! Yes, Alaria had a child. Yes she has been corrupted, but how? You have kept her hidden, even now that she has given birth—but why?”

“Because of the shame!” the Omethiä snapped, his temper rising. “She mated with a demon spawn, our greatest enemy, which…”

“Stop,” the Gnolaum cut in, “Stop right there. She mated, you said. You have never said she defiled herself. Don’t you see? This was not a moment of lust, nor of carnal desire, other than the natural affections of one who loved through the bonds of wedlock.” The smile returned to his face as he stopped pacing. Once more they locked eyes. “Didn’t you interview Alaria once the demon revealed himself?”

It was a struggle not to choke on the words. “I did.”

“What did she tell you?”

His eyes drifted across the majestic sight of the city. At its very heart rose three perfect spires—the towers of the Omethiä, the Omäthä and the Omä-es. The white marble and crystal inlayed symbols reflected the smallest lights, burning like fire in the night. “She said that she had been visited by an angelic being from the heavens. A creature so divine and beautiful, she felt bathed in joy to look upon him. She…,” he faltered, “…said he came to her whenever she was alone, teaching her of other lands and how it was her destiny to change the course of history upon this world. That her blood would change the very course of the war now ravaging the land.”

“And he was right,” the Gnolaum whispered. “But not in the way he believes.” Reaching out, he placed a soft hand on the forearm of his friend. “Your grandson will help save this world, Irithian…of that I swear.”

Yanking his arm away, the evolu fell back into a near crouch. “Blashphamy!” he sneered, his skin fast turning to a deep shade of red. “My people are undone and you mock us openly?! By the the laws of my people, this child and my daughter should be destroyed!!” His voice cracked under the emotional strain. The air around him reacted to the power of his seeping emotions. Small sparks popped and flashed in the airspace around his face and hands.

The Gnolaum stepped back, hands raised in defense. “Calm yourself, my friend. If you were correct, you would have carried out that sentence before the child had even been born.” He paused, “Am I right?”

Irithian looked dumbfounded.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I…”

“It is because all the years of your teaching, the time you spent instructing her worked Irithian! She listened to you my friend…to you and your finest tutors. You have developed one of the brightest and strictly moral members of your society!”

Shoulders slumping forward, the evolu heaving, the emotions too great. “How…could you say such a thing?”

“Because she was married before she conceived,” he whispered. “This was the very window the demon was looking for. Not to defile Alaria in lust, but to defile your nation through law.”

It was nearly a minute before the reality of his words sunk into the Omethiä’s heart. The Gnolaum was correct. A ceremony had been talked about—confessed to her father, where the angel had sealed their marriage in solemn evolu vows and then consummating the marriage before revealing his true form to the girl. There had been no crime, regardless of how repulsed one may be. Alaria was still an innocent.

Irithian looked at the hero through pained eyes, though his heart beat stronger. My daughter is safe? But there was more to this. Deeper. Darker. Consequences that would change the whole of his people forever. At this thought, his heart nearly stopped. “He means to overthrow our people through the child.”

The hero nodded, “Head of the class. If the marriage is valid, and it is, that means your grandson will rule in your stead, not your daughter. That child has legal claim to rule your people, Irithian—and if he has his father tendencies, well…I’ll let your imagination run with that one.”

“So you propose to raise the child in hiding?”

“That’s what I believe is the key—to make sure the child is brought up away from his fathers influence, but yes, hidden from sight.” He paused, “hidden-ish, anyway.” Again he placed a hand on the evolu’s arm, “Which is why I need to take him with me. You will have to deal with the monster, but I can guarantee his safety and protection.”

The Omethiä nodded, glancing back at the basket. “And his mother?” The basket rocked suddenly and the evolu’s stomach lurched. “She’s never going to forgive me for this. I may save this people, but you were wrong, old friend—I will lose my family altogether. The people will not accept her once those in the senate find out the truth. They will see her as impure.”

“Then hold them to your laws! Stand your ground, blast you!! By your laws, one who will not keep the law is banished and all bonds revoked. Is that correct?”

Nodding soberly, “That is correct.”

“Then there’s no shame in Alaria. She married ill, yes, but her husband abandoned his duty. Turn the tables on this situation. The demon is at fault, whereas your daughters only crime was believing too much and being willing to love. That is not a crime! Give her to another who will love and treasure her as his own heart, so she may be happy and safe. Who knows, perhaps she’ll become an exemplarily mother.”

With trembling hands, the evolu reached out and lifted the basket to his chest.

Leaning forward, the hero smiled tenderly, his calloused hands lifted the blanket woven in summer colors to look upon the infant.

Nestled on his side, the child sucked wildly upon his thumb. His other hand gripped the blanket tightly to his cheek. The child’s head, hands and feet seemed overly large in comparison to its torso. The flawless pale skin, the mark of all evolu, was riddled with green birthmark splotches, as if some disease were eating the child away. Yet he lay there, resting peacefully and unaware.

“Does he have a name?”

“Daxänu,” replied the Omethiä.

“You called him an Unsolvable Problem?”

“That’s…a rough translation, but you know our language well, Gnolaum.”

“Doesn’t really seem fitting anymore, does it? All problems have a solution—we just might not see it at first.”

The Omethiä pondered, “Perhaps not. Though this problem is yet to be solved or concluded. Regardless of what we are doing here, I have also broken the law. My station holds me more accountable to the people, not less. Aside from Alaria hating me, my crime is also punishable by death, Gnolaum.”

The hero paused, bouncing lightly as he looked in on Daxänu. “Only if they find out you took the child.”

“I cannot lie.”

Sighing, “No. I didn’t think you could.”

The air flared with the bright light of electricity. With a giant ‘CRACK’, a bolt jumped from the center of the hero’s palm, striking the Omethiä square in the chest. The force knocked him to the ground and sent him skidding across the grass.

Pulling the basket to his own chest, the hero waited for the elf to stir.

“Why?” muttered Irithian. Smoke rolled up from his robes. “What have I done to deserve…” but his words were cut short. Another bolt arced through the sky.

But this attack was reflected back at the attacker.

Without looking up from the child, the hero willed the energy away…and it struck a nearby tree, splitting it in two.

The Omethiä stood wearily upright, his expression in sheer disbelief, “You attack me?! I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN YOUR FRIEND!”

Throwing both hands forward, the elf whispered something sharply in the ancient tongue. Sparks of blue light shot from his fingertips, directly at his opponent.

Holding his palm up, the sparks came to an abrupt stop only inches from the Gnolaum’s face. He could feel the intense heat of the elements, even taste the underlaying hostility of the spell. Like ripples in water, he scooped up the energy and formed a small ball in the air, which remained suspended in midair.

“Careful there—you could have harmed Daxänu.”

“You are a traitor!”

“I am nothing of the sort,” he retorted, “I am doing this BECAUSE you are my friend, Irithian. It would break my heart to see you harmed or even disgraced before your people! Your influence will last generations and I cannot allow your life to be thrown away, especially in helping me save this irritating world.”

With his free hand, he made a gripping motion in the air.

Arms compressed to his ribs, the Omethiä was lifted inches above the ground.

Another motion with his arm and the elf was thrown through the air and into the knotted willow tree. A loud crunch and a thud sounded as the body hit the ground.

“I am ensuring your innocence,” he concluded with a nod.

Setting the basket down gently, the hero attended to his friend, kneeling down at the elf’s side. He couldn’t help but cringe as he inspected the body. The Omethiä’s right collar bone was protruding through his silver robes, the bloodstain steadily growing over his shoulder.

“That was a bit harder than I meant it to be,” he groaned.

Taking a deep breath, he placed a hand on the balding skull of his friend. Whispering an ancient prayer, the shoulder lifted, the arm rotated and the collar bone vanished through the cloth, reseting firmly in place. At the same time, the hero’s opposite are cracked, popped and snapped.

“ARGH!” he cried, as the bone shot through the cloth of his robe. “There we go,” he panted, trying not to bite his tongue. “Good as new.”

Grunting, he fell back against the tree, snatching up a dead stick to bit down on.

Waiting for the Ithari to set his own bones back in place, he tried to relax a bit and let his head flop to the side. He blinked, then squinted. A goose-egg bump protruded out from the back of the evolu’s head.

He chuckled, “Alright, almost as good as new.”

Lifting his palm to the frontal lobe of Irithian’s head, the hero’s voice deepened, “Upon awakening, you will recall nothing of this meeting. You discovered the kidnapping of Daxänu and pursued a shadow to this cliff. It was here that you engaged in magical combat. The fight was sore, but you battled on until you were wounded and thrown against this tree.”

Lifting his hand, he leaned forward and kissed the ancient elf on the forehead.

“We will not see one another again, old friend. Forgive me, but this must be done to save us all.”

A scream cut through the night air. A distant echo form the Omä-es tower.

“Uh-oh—looks like momma’s awake,” the hero frowned. His shoulder snapped back into alignment. It would be a few minutes before he could rise and escape. Best make use of the time.

“Tänne,” he whispered. The glowing ball of energy drifted through the air until it hovered directly above his chest. “Now comes the hard part,” he sighed to himself. Scooping a section of the energy with three fingers, it came apart like butter, popping and hissing along the way.

He turned as far as he could and leaned towards the Omethiä’s face.

“I promise this won’t hurt a bit.”

****

“I don’t care WHAT they were saying to you, it doesn’t make it alright to throw your nuts around like that!” Chuck scolded.

The chipmunk wiggled his nose.

“Are you even listening….oh why do I even bother. Go play with your brothers!”

Bobbing it’s head and chittering, the tiny creature scrambled off the log and into the distant brush.

“Some people’s children, that’s all I have to say…”

It was a lovely summer afternoon, but the wizard didn’t seem to see it that way. For the past month he’d decided to give up on the great war around him and lock it all out. He had the food storage, the cottage had been moved to a remote forest and no one on this big bright world knew where he was. It was the perfect scenario.

“Jarvis!” he snapped, seeing the wild boar in the garden, “GET YOUR NOSE AND TUSKS OUT OF MY CABBAGE!”

“SCREEEEEECH!”

Without any warning, the old wizard dove face first into the dirt and covered his head with his hands.

“AIR RAID! HIT THE DIRT!!” he screamed.

Blinking from beneath his huge six foot beard, he noticed the forest animals standing about, looking at him quite puzzled. Above them a great eagle circled the sky, descending lower and lower until with a final thrust of its giant wings, landed softly on the tree stump just outside the front door to the cottage.

Chuck stood up slowly, brushing the dirt from his robe. he shook a finger at the animals around him, “You realize that’s why you’re on everyone’s dinner plate—you don’t know how to duck and cover!”

“SCREEEECH!” whined the eagle.

“I’m comin’ —I’m comin’! Don’t need to get your panties all in a….” he stopped short, staring at the basket griped in the great talon. He frowned, “Now you wait just a second! I don’t care WHAT you’re sellin’, I’m not buying and I’m not giving any donations to support wars, religious organizations or animal refuges, got it! Now SCRAM!”

“SCREEEECH!” whined the eagle again, this time hopping from the stump and leaving the basket behind.

The wizard scoffed and waltzed up to the basket. “What have you got in…MAHAN’S PINK PANTIES!” He stumbled backwards and tripped over his own feet. For a moment he just stared. Here he was, out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded a by the strongest enchantment he could conjure so he wouldn’t be disturbed for the next hundred years and then this…?

Rolling forward, Chuck crawled on hands and knees, swaying back and forth like a great cat.

Lifting his hooked nose up and over the side of the basket, he peered inside once more.

Eyes popping open, he couldn’t help but gasp.

“Why if that isn’t the ugliest child I’ve ever seen in my ancient life, I’m a liar if there ever was one!” Eyebrows popping up, he glared at the eagle. “Shadow, I’ve known you for a while now—but I never knew you were into trafficking babies?”

“Squawk.”

“Transporting? So you’ve started a delivery service?”

“Sqr-awk-awk.”

“Right. You’re a bird, what would you know about paperwork. So who sent this? Obviously someone who couldn’t get to me personally.” He looked around at his forest neighbors, nodding.

He thought he noticed a squirrel roll its eyes.

“Screer.”

“Note? What note?” Lifting the rainbow colored blanket, the wizard discovered a tightly wound scroll with a red seal upon it. He frowned, “Hmmm. Not sure I like the look of this.”

“SCREECH!”

“Alright, ALRIGHT! Reading it….”

Morphiophelius,

Here’s a present. Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

The child will help decide the fate of the world and the final victory over the evil one.

When the day comes that you are questioned as to how you acquired the child, say that you rescued him from a ‘shadow’.

-G

P.S. His name is Daxänu.

The wizard crinkled his nose and looked over at the green child, sleeping peacefully in the basket.

“You, my ugly monkey, have some powerful friends. Irritating friends, but powerful. Not ones I want to cross, either. So,” he sighed loudly, “I guess it’s you and me now, eh?”

He looked again at the post script of the letter.

“Daxänu? What a stupid name. No such thing as An Unsolvable Problem. Also…it sounds like someone likes dogs with stubby legs.”

He grinned down at the babe. “I say we give you something original. Something fun.”

“SCREEECH!”

The wizard nodded, “I agree. Solution sounds better. Much better. So that’s what we’ll call you.”

Lifting the edge of the blanket, he tucked it in around the infants shoulder.

“Welcome to your new home Dax.”