The island that Edgar reached appeared slightly darker and craggier than the one he had just departed. One scraggly tree sprouted from the deep maroon soil and great precipitous cliffs rose straight up from the barren land.

Despite its slightly desolate appearance, however, the place wasn't unpopulated. Several paces away from Edgar sat a peculiar being. He definitely wasn't a human; his skin was a pale green, and his hair was the color of moss. He had large eyes, pointed ears, and claws instead of fingernails on his hands. He also had a pair of blue wings ribbed with a delicate network of veins and a long, ragged tail trailing behind him. Even though Edgar had never seen a creature quite like him before, he knew that this creature had to be a fairy. Hopefully this meant he would see Edgar as a friend and not a foe.

"Good day, friend," Edgar said, walking up to the green-skinned fellow.

"Good day to you, whoever you are," the fellow replied. "What brings you to this rock?"

"Mostly fate, the winds, and my feet. Who are you?"

"I am a fairy merchant, and these darker islands are my home. I usually earn my daily bread by selling unique beasts to passing visitors, but business has been getting slow lately."

"Did you say you're a fairy? So am I."

To Edgar's amazement, the merchant didn't scoff at this remark or say anything akin to "Sure you're a fairy. And I'm a manticore!" Instead, the merchant merely nodded.

"I might've guessed, brother. We may be different in appearance, but we share a common bloodline. I just wasn't sure because I can barely sense the magic in you. Why is that? Have you just had a battle with a powerful sorcerer?"

"No," Edgar said, gritting his teeth and feeling the color rush to his cheeks. "It's…it's…Well, an insane magician in Aeolus 'borrowed' my powers."

"Oh, I know of that old scoundrel," the merchant chuckled. "Don't worry, though. Whatever he takes from you always returns eventually."

"I know," Edgar muttered.

"I just hope somebody catches him before he literally robs half of the people in Etheria blind," the merchant shrugged.

His remark about selling unique beasts made Edgar notice something resting on the ground in front of the merchant. Three somethings, to be precise, which turned out to be three small creatures, all of which were quite motionless except for the occasional faint flicker of movement that convinced Edgar that they weren't dead.

"You say that you're selling exotic animals, merchant?"

"Yes," the merchant said, proudly spreading his wings. "I had a much larger selection and a much larger range of buyers before the king and queen left to find their lost son and things started coming apart down in Eldritch."

An uncomfortable feeling began growing in the pit of Edgar's stomach. The merchant had to be talking about Oberon and Titania, his parents. This gave him an idea about what time he was in, but it was a very vague one. He had disappeared from Etheria twice – three times if he counted his disappearance the day before. This meant he was either in the somewhat distant past, sometime after he was stolen by Lolotte; in the near past, sometime after he was kidnapped by Malicia; or – he fervently hoped that this wasn't the case – in the future, sometime after he vanished from his homeland out of his own free will.

Not noticing Edgar's uncomfortable expression, the merchant continued his speech:

"These animals aren't entirely useless, but they aren't all that useful to me, not to mention my having to carry them around everywhere I fly. I'm more than willing to sell you one of them for only one copper at the maximum. Would you like one, stranger?"

Edgar quickly turned his attention back to the merchant. Although the prospect of owning an exotic beast didn't exactly thrill him, he didn't want to turn the merchant's offer down so quickly.

"Why, yes."

"Then take a look at my exotic menagerie," the merchant said, indicating his merchandise with a sweep of his clawed hands. "It's a little lacking in quantity, but look anyway."

Edgar knelt on the cold, rocky ground to examine what animals the merchant had for sale. As he did, his reluctance to actually purchase one of the creatures became even more pronounced.

"What's that?" he asked, indicating the light blue serpentine beast coiled by the merchant's right knee. "A snake with horns?"

"That?" the merchant asked, taken aback. "Can't you tell what it is for yourself? It's a miniature amphisbaena. Their kind heralds the approach of spring and can withstand the coldest winters."

"But…" Edgar said slowly, after running through his rudimentary but adequate knowledge of fantastic creatures, "Amphisbaenas have two heads. This one has just one."

The merchant suddenly looked quite uneasy. His pointed ears drooped slightly.

"I know it does. It, eh…"

Here he cleared his throat with a bit more volume than necessary.

"It had difficulty coming out of the shell. An uncommon deformation, making it even more unique among exotic fauna."

"Thanks, but…I'll pass."

As skeptical as Edgar was becoming about the quality of the merchant's wares, he turned his attention to the second animal, which was bright red with bold yellow stripes, lying atop what looked like a tiny pile of coal.

"Why are you offering a newt as an 'exotic beast?'" Edgar asked.

"It's not a newt, young lad! It's a genuine fire salamander!"

Edgar furrowed his brow. The fire salamanders he had read about could lie in a blazing hearth without even getting singed. Somehow, this salamander didn't seem capable of such a feat.

"Those…those coals it's resting on don't look hot," Edgar observed. "Or even warm…"

"It can't rest on hot coals while it's asleep," the merchant explained hastily. "It might lose control of its power and burn up."

Edgar stared incredulously at the slimy creature.

"I think it might burn up regardless of whether it's awake or asleep," he said.

The merchant arched his wings and twitched his tail angrily.

"All right, so he isn't that unique at all," he huffed. "If you were a child, I'm sure you'd be more eager to have him as a pet."

"If you meet a child, I'm sure he will be," Edgar said encouragingly.

Edgar was about to tell the merchant that he had changed his mind about buying something from him when he noticed the third animal. It was curled into a ball barely larger than an apple, and it appeared to be part bird and part mammal, and Edgar knew of only one beast with this particular combination of looks.

"Egad, is that a griffin?"

"Yes, it is," the merchant replied. "We have griffins on some of the outer islands, but they're a bit puny compared to griffins found in other parts of the world. This, however, is an extremely uncommon pygmy griffin, indigenous only to the outskirts of Etheria. Very intelligent and playful as well."

"Is it alive?" Edgar asked. "It looks comatose."

"Oh, of course it's alive," the merchant said. "Here. I'll show you."

He swiftly scooped up the pygmy griffin with one hand, which immediately sprang to life and squeaked in protest. As the griffin began squirming and squawking belligerently, the merchant quickly restrained it with his other hand and held it up in front of Edgar.

"Would you like to hold him?"

"Hold him?" Edgar exclaimed, flabbergasted at such a suggestion.

"He won't bite you if you move fast enough. Here."

Before Edgar could object, the merchant had tossed the pygmy griffin in his direction, and Edgar was obliged to catch it. He held the strange beast against his chest, staring down at it. The kitten-sized griffin continued to squirm in his hands, yet it didn't seem quite as wild and furious as it had been when the merchant was grasping it. It fact, even its squawks had become less harsh and grating. It even seemed to be making contented cheeps as its writhing slowly lessened and almost ceased altogether. It began scratching at the clasp of Edgar's cloak, and when Edgar gently tried to push its claw away from his neck, one of the griffin's talons nicked his finger.

"Ouch!" he muttered. "Do you have a name for this thing?"

"Yes," the merchant nodded. "Scrimshaw."

"I think I see why," Edgar said as the little griffin continued to scratch at his clasp. Its proportions were much stockier than those of a normal griffin, making it appear quite young, even though Edgar knew that it was an adult. It was wild and scruffy from tip to tail, its eagle's feathers were a dirty gray and its lion hindquarters looked as if they hadn't been groomed in a long time. Even its floppy dog's ears were abnormally shaggy. Despite its homely appearance, something about the little beast endeared it to Edgar, and as Scrimshaw looked up at him with his little beak and large golden eyes, Edgar found it impossible to give him back to the merchant and continue on his way.

"Do you want to keep him?" the merchant asked.

"I guess so," Edgar shrugged, smiling helplessly. "He seems to have attached himself to me already."

He shifted Scrimshaw to his left hand, dug into his pocket for the single copper coin that the physician had given him in exchange for his torment, and handed the coin to the merchant.

"Excellent," the merchant said. "Another chip off my shoulder. Here."

He pulled what looked like a small stone out of his pocket and began scribbling on it with a stick of charcoal. When he was done doing this, he handed the object to Edgar, who stared quizzically at it. It was white, smooth and irregular, and on it were scrawled the words "1 pyg. Gryphon – 1 copper".

"What's this?"

"It's your receipt," the merchant said. "In case you want to return him any time in the near future. I couldn't find any paper, so I used that rock. A strange looking one, too. Be careful that you don't get it wet, though. That paint and charcoal will wash right off. Well, it's been a pleasure talking with you, brother."

Edgar examined the receipt – the shape of which seemed strangely familiar – before placing it in his pocket.

"And to you," he replied, turning away and gazing down at Scrimshaw, who was still sitting obediently in his hand.

"Now how am I going to carry you?" he asked the little griffin. "I can't just put you in my pocket, can I?"

Scrimshaw suddenly spread his wings, shot into the air, then dived into the hood of Edgar's cloak, where he wriggled for a few seconds before settling down. The griffin was so light that Edgar barely felt the slightly heavier load between his shoulder blades.

"Wow," Edgar laughed, glancing over his shoulder at his new passenger. "You are smart, Scrimshaw."

To the north was another wide path winding its way between the island's sheer cliffs. Bidding the merchant farewell, Edgar began following the path. It was hard to believe that this island really was part of Etheria. It was craggy, barren, and almost gloomy. There was hardly any vegetation as Edgar made his way north.

After several minutes with nothing but the echo of his footfalls and the occasional coo from Scrimshaw to keep him company, the path led to the mouth of an ominous-looking cave. Although it didn't seem particularly menacing, there was still an unpleasant aura that hung about it like a dark shroud. Judging by the way Scrimshaw was quivering in his hood, Edgar's new pet didn't like the looks of the cave either. All the same, since the prince couldn't see any way of getting around it, he had no choice but to enter it.

Like most people, Edgar wasn't too fond of exploring dark caverns. They had always been the home of a fierce beast or giant in the books he had read as a boy, and Lolotte's story about a man-eating troll that lived in a cave beneath the Impossible Mountains had given him nightmares for several consecutive nights. However, the experience of actually being a troll and living in a network of subterranean caverns for several months had greatly lessened his fear of both. Unfortunately, thanks to the same occurrence, his fear of caves and monsters living in them had been replaced by an almost irrational fear of transfiguration. He supposed that the outcome of that experience could have been worse, he just had no idea how.

The tunnel that led into the gaping opening was surprisingly straight and regular, almost as if it was manmade – or fairymade, as the case might be. The tunnel then stopped abruptly at a perfectly flat wall decorated by two eerie torch-like fixtures that emitted a faint blue light. The tunnel branched off at that point, heading both east and west. Looking further down both new tunnels, Edgar could make out even more twists and turns. A feeling of familiarity passed over him, but so did a slight sensation of dread. This wasn't a mere cavern. It was a maze.

Do you wish to solve the maze by yourself? If so, click on the image below.

If not, just continue reading.

Although the maze wasn't a large one, it was still quite ominous. The strange ornamentations that adorned its walls had an otherworldly quality to them, and despite the many sconces and torches lighting the way, it was still quite dark. Once or twice Edgar tried creating a ball of light, but apparently the physician still had hold of his powers, since nothing happened.

He made his way through several rooms and backtracked after meeting several dead ends, eventually finding himself in a room quite different than the others. To the north was a tunnel decorated with elaborate stone inlays that resembled marble, carved into wistful, airy, beautiful patterns. Not only did the tunnel look welcoming, but Edgar was sure he could smell fresh air coming from further down it – that tunnel had to be the way out of the maze.

To the east was a tunnel different from its northern brother in every possible way. A carving of a monstrous creature with flaming red eyes and large gaping jaws seemed to be lunging at him from above the tunnel, its claws reaching out and looking as if they would seize him if he got too close.

Despite the welcoming appearance of the northern tunnel and the foreboding appearance of the eastern tunnel, Edgar didn't want to take the former path – not yet, at least. He felt that that this maze had been built for a purpose, and despite the frightening look of the eastern tunnel, he felt compelled to enter that tunnel and explore the rest of the maze. There had to be more to it than what he had seen so far, and it would take more than the carving of a ferocious beast to scare him. For someone who had been to the Realm of the Dead and lived to tell the tale, the terrors of the living world didn't seem quite as fearsome anymore.

Edgar crossed the dimly lit cavern, almost stumbling over a strange elevated section of the floor that ran the entire length of it from north to south. He entered the east tunnel and wandered through several more dismal rooms before coming to another dead end…but this wasn't any ordinary dead end. A single sconce illuminated the room, and attached to the north wall was a strange spherical apparatus that appeared to be divided into four equal parts, with a curved track running along the wall behind each one.

Edgar approached the odd device. It looked like some sort of machine, but Edgar had never seen a machine as unusual as this one.

Its four sections were inlaid with something resembling mother of pearl, and there was a large blue button in the device's center. Even though it was against his better judgment, Edgar slowly extended a finger and pressed the button.

The button grew luminous, then seemed to dissolve into thin air. The four sections then slid back on their respective tracks, revealing a small hollow in the rock wall. There was a soft clicking from within the hollow, then a tiny metal rack slid out of it. On the end of the rack was a tiny, black object.

Edgar picked it up to discover that it was a chess knight, but not a normal one by any means. It felt unnaturally cold in his hand, and though it had been carved into the traditional shape of a horse's head, there was something ominous about this horse. Its teeth were bared and almost fanglike, its mane was amazingly wild and unruly, and its eyes were downright menacing. It made Night Mare, personal steed of the Lord of the Dead, look like a docile pony.

As frightening as the chess piece was, Edgar decided to keep it. He sensed that this little knight was important somehow – though his magic powers had been taken from him, his ability to sense magic still existed, and there was definitely some strong magic residing within this knight. He carefully tucked it into his pocket and turned his attention towards the rest of the cavern.

Glancing beneath the device, he noticed a large hole that appeared to be the entrance to a low tunnel. Since taking the same long, winding path back to the room where the tunnel to the maze's exit had been didn't appeal to him, he decided to see where this smaller tunnel led instead.

He got down on his hands and knees and began to crawl through the cramped passageway, hoping that he wasn't squashing Scrimshaw. The tunnel was barely wide enough to accommodate him, but he managed to squeeze his way through it nonetheless. It continued north in a straight line, and soon Edgar could see a light ahead that wasn't the light produced by the maze's torches. It was light from the outside world. The tunnel finally ended in a room through which the exit was in plain sight. Edgar turned and was surprised to see that he had just passed through the same northern tunnel which he had shunned in favor of the more frightening eastern tunnel – he had just gone through it underground! The room with those two tunnel entrances was right behind him, and the raised part of the cavern floor had been the roof of the tunnel he had just crawled through. It seemed as if taking the long way around had paid off.

Edgar gratefully pointed himself north and made his way towards the maze's exit.

Outside the maze was a short path that widened into a clearing at the northern tip of the island. As before, there was a large island looming in the distance, and also as before, Edgar couldn't see it clearly enough to teleport himself to it. It looked as if he would have to use his skyship once more.

Edgar took out and mounted his skyship and glided through the heavy, brooding mist towards the island. The air seemed cooler and somewhat oppressive, and the mist was so thick that it wasn't until he was only a few hundred feet from the island that he could see it clearly. It seemed even more craggy and desolate than the one he had left, dominated almost entirely by cliffs with a single scrawny tree growing near its southern edge. It was as if the islands were growing darker and darker as he headed north.

As he was preparing to land on the "shore" of this new island, suddenly there was a blinding flash of light and a deafening, thunderous noise that split the world apart. Scrimshaw screeched loudly from his refuge in Edgar's hood while Edgar nearly toppled off his skyship, but was able to reorient himself just in time. He stared wildly about, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Then he realized that it was just like what had happened in the Impossible Mountains. That strange, invisible window that he had unknowingly stumbled through – a window in time. The last time this had happened, he had traveled into the past. Now, however, as he examined the thin tree that had definitely been several inches shorter several seconds ago and the slightly more eroded cliffs towering above him, he realized that he must have traveled into the future.

He wondered what was causing these time windows. The last time he had stumbled through one was shortly before he had met Cassima. Was time itself shoving him backwards or forwards several years so that he would meet her? Or was it the pendants' way of adjusting themselves so that they would both end up in the same time and place? It was as if the pendants were attracted to each other in some way. It would explain the way he and Cassima kept running into each other. Their constant encounters couldn't be mere coincidence…could they?

Unable to come up with an answer to this question, Edgar landed on the island and dismounted his skyship. The terrain of this isle was quite rocky and uneven, but there was a narrow path leading north. Edgar wearily trudged along it, wondering where it would lead him.

He soon came to a barren, open expanse surrounded by cliffs on both sides. In the side of the base of the east cliff was the gaping mouth of a cave. Edgar couldn't see anything in it, but his curiosity wouldn't let him leave it unexplored. He had boldly gone into one ominous cavern already today; entering another cavern wouldn't do him any harm…he hoped.

Edgar entered the cave and was almost immediately swallowed up by the blackness of its interior. Good grief, it's dark, he thought as he took a few tentative steps forward. It's a good thing it isn't totally dark, since I don't have enough magic in me to ignite a twig.

His foot struck a small rock, which scuttled forward into the tenebrous cavern.

"Eh? Who's there?" came a soft voice from somewhere in the ominous inky blackness.

"What??" Edgar gasped before he could stop himself, his heart thumping madly.

"I said 'who's there?' Come closer."

As loath as he was to do so, Edgar did. Eventually, he could perceive a tiny glow piercing the darkness. It turned out to be a candle stuck upon a large stalagmite, the light of which reflected off a small face with a bulbous nose, large, pointed, drooping ears and prominent bags under its eyes. As Edgar drew closer, he could make out the body of the creature that owned the face. It was a squat, gangly being with pale lavender skin, dressed in rags and lying slouched against a boulder. Its arms were muscular, and brown hair sprouted in profusion from the tops of its huge bare feet. It seemed to be whittling something out of a chunk of wood, which it stopped doing as soon as it noticed Edgar approaching.

"Oh!" it said in a soft, amiable voice. "Welcome to my home, traveler. I'm sorry it isn't looking its best, but I rarely get visitors this far out here."

"No problem," said Edgar, who still couldn't see much of the home except for the creature who had just turned out to be the owner. "But where is 'here?'"

"You don't know? It's the outskirts of Dark Etheria. At least, that's what the locals call it."

"Dark Etheria? I never heard of that place."

"Not many have," the creature said with a shake of its oddly formed head, "Not even the natives. The deeper you get into this part of Etheria, the darker and hairier things get, hence the name."

He extended a thick hand, which Edgar shook, wincing as he did so. This fellow was much stronger than he appeared.

"Speaking of names," the creature said, "Mine's Oppi Goldsworth. I used to be the Court Jeweler of Etheria before…before it happened."

"Before what happened?"

Oppi lowered both his head and his large ears.

"Oh, I do not wish to speak of it. I'm surprised that you don't know about it. The prince of Etheria left his homeland for an unknown destination, and no one was ever able to find him. Ever since then, this kingdom has been an unsafe place to live. I retreated to this small cavern, to wait out the hard times in hope of better ones."

Edgar tried to wrap his mind around this new information. This future he was in had to be a future in which Shadrack's plan to "destroy the roots" hadn't succeeded, otherwise the Edgar of this time would never have returned to Etheria after being kidnapped by Lolotte, since Rosella would have never existed to kill her. On the other hand, in this future it seemed as if he – and possibly Cassima as well – had never returned from their journey…

…Or had perished while defeating Shadrack.

Had the pendant transported him to the future that was the most likely to come to pass? Or was this the way that things would ultimately turn out, no matter what he and Cassima did? Edgar was fast starting to believe that he would never be able to make sense out of his pendant, and for now, he could only pray that this future represented what happened if they died or became permanently lost during their quest, not when.

In an attempt to get his mind off the subject, Edgar examined the interior of the cave, which had slowly grown visible as his eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom. It was dark and dismal, yet strangely welcoming in ways he couldn't fathom. The cave was almost completely bare except for a tattered hammock strung between two stalagmites, which obviously served as Oppi's bed. Most of his possessions – a large trunk, a trinket or two and several jeweler's tools – lay scattered near him.

Like many of the people, places and creatures that he had encountered so far, there was something vaguely familiar about Oppi. Edgar's parents had never mentioned his employment as Court Jeweler, but that didn't mean he didn't have that position in Edgar's time. It wasn't just his name that was ringing a bell either. It was something else.…

"You said you were the Court Jeweler, Oppi?" Edgar asked.

"Yes, I did," Oppi nodded.

"But you're a…you're a troll, aren't you?" Edgar asked, suddenly realizing why Oppi looked familiar to him.

"Yes," Oppi replied sheepishly, "But I always was the black sheep of Vulcanix. I could never stand being with others of my kind. I was grateful for Oberon and Titania's employing me when their son was discovered as the one who was disguised as the Troll King."

Edgar managed to stop himself from cringing outwardly. Of course a troll would look familiar to him – he spent several months in the body of one, didn't he? It was a wonder he didn't recognize Oppi after all that time the two of them lived in Vulcanix…but then again, his memory of that time was still slightly muddled. It was a good thing Oppi didn't recognize him…in this body, anyway.

"But now I'm pretty much out of work," Oppi continued. "And I mostly just whittle to pass the time. However, I have a few unfinished works with me that I swear I will not complete until the prince is found again. I know that he will turn up someday. I just know it."

"I…I hope he will too, Oppi."

"Hear hear," said the pale troll, raising his partially carved piece of wood. "Say, I didn't catch your name, friend."

Uh-oh.

"My name? Uh…my name is Edmund," Edgar managed.

"Edmund, eh?" said Oppi, raising one ear. "Well, Edmund, I'd like to give you something that does nothing but hurt me because it reminds me of happier times, times that weren't as painful as this."

He reached under a nearby rock and withdrew a gold ring with a brilliant red stone set in it, which flashed like a star in the light of the candle's flame.

"Wow," Edgar breathed, bending over to get a closer look at the gem. "That's amazing! Is that a ruby?"

"No, it's a rare red diamond. I got the diamond from a strange troll girl in Vulcanix some years back. This gem was almost as beautiful as she was. Bright blue eyes, long blonde hair…"

Edgar fought back another cringe. As if reminding him of his misadventure as a doppelganger of the Troll King wasn't embarrassing enough, now Oppi had to bring up what happened to Rosella in Vulcanix as well? How was Edgar supposed to know that that mirror would change her into a troll? Well, dragging her through it did help save Etheria, didn't it? Inadvertently, but still…

"Anyway," Oppi continued, oblivious to Edgar's unease, "She helped me become what I am…or was…and the gem she gave me to pay for a new set of tools was large enough for me to fashion a ring from what was left over after I was through chipping away at it. It would be much better if you owned it."

"But, I can't…" Edgar protested, but Oppi pushed the ring into his hand before he could say any more.

"No, please. You have been kind, and it has been ages since I've seen a face – even a surly one – and I think you could put this to much better use than I could. Maybe if Edgar is found someday, and you haven't found any use for this ring, then maybe you can return it to me. You know where I'll be."

The sad, earnest look on the troll's face made it impossible for Edgar to refuse the gift again.

"Well, all right," he said, straightening up and taking one last look at the precious ring before placing it carefully in his pocket. "Thank you, Oppi."

The troll smiled weakly and returned to his whittling.

So this was the former jeweler of Vulcanix that Rosella had met. He certainly wasn't a typical troll, but in a way, that was one of his charms. His good-natured behavior stayed with him even after…after what happened to Etheria in this time. Edgar hoped that he could somehow avert this dismal future and spare Oppi and many others like him from a lonely, broken existence like this.

Edgar shuffled a few steps toward the cave's only exit and the purplish rocks beyond, then turned back to the troll.

"Well…I guess this is good-bye, Oppi."

"I guess it is," Oppi said, looking up again. "If…"

His large eyes presently became even larger.

"Wait!" he exclaimed. "I almost forgot. I have something else that you might want."

He reached into a pocket of his tattered garments and tossed a small object in Edgar's direction. Edgar swiftly caught it, examined it, then looked quizzically at both it and Oppi.

"This isn't something you made from that diamond too, is it?"

"No, that stone is a garnet, and I don't know what the thing it's set in is. In fact…"

"Don't tell me," Edgar said, tucking the squat, painted stone cylinder away, "You just happened to find it one day and you had no idea where it came from or how it got there."

"Why, yes," Oppi said with mild surprise. "How did you know?"

"Just a stab in the dark," Edgar shrugged.

"Hmm. Well, farewell, Edmund. May your path lead you to places brighter than this one."

Edgar paused awkwardly for a moment before remembering the false name he had assumed. He bid Oppi good-bye, then walked out of the cave into the diffused sunlight, which was so bright in contrast to the cave's interior that he had to shield his eyes against until they adjusted themselves to it.

Shortly after departing Oppi's cave, Edgar came to a dead end. Mountains rose up on either side of him, and ahead of him was a gigantic wall of boulders that was too steep to climb and much too large to move. Edgar wondered how he was going to get past this one.

He could probably move the rocks with magic…but his powers were probably much too limited to do something so extreme, even if he had gotten them back by now.

Or hadn't he?

"All right, rocks," Edgar said, rolling up his sleeves. "I've failed before, but I'm not going to fail again."

He extended his right hand, gritted his teeth, and tried to even feel his magical energies, but as before, there was nothing. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't feel the faintest spark of magic within him. After a few futile seconds, he gave up and bent over, panting from the effort.

"Come on, you can do this…" he told himself.

Another unsuccessful attempt had him panting again in less than half a minute.

"I don't get it," he said, staring at the ground. "I should have regained my magic by now…"

He tried once more but gave up after barely ten seconds.

"Oh, curse that magician," Edgar groaned. "I think he was just bluffing…and that merchant must have been wrong about him too. He really can permanently steal people's abilities."

Edgar raised his arms and looked down at himself. He was as powerless as any mortal now, and he would probably remain that way until he died.

"This is it," he said lightly, almost laughing madly at the horror of it all. "I've really lost it. Great. Just great."

At the last "great," he let his arms flop to his sides. At that moment, however, there was a brilliant flash of light and a small explosion just to his left. He instinctively jumped away from the noise. Scrimshaw screeched in alarm.

"What was that??" he gasped. When the dust cleared, Edgar cautiously knelt down and examined a small, smoking hole in the earth that definitely hadn't been there a minute ago.

"What caused this?" he asked, even though he knew there was no one to answer his queries.

There was another bright flash and an explosion, this time to his right. He leapt back from this one as well, and Scrimshaw screeched again.

"Yow! Another one!" Edgar yelped. "What's going on? Where are these coming from?"

The new hole seemed almost identical to the first one, but it seemed angled slightly, as if whatever had caused it had come from a point behind him and to the left…

Edgar turned and examined the surrounding mountains. He pointed a finger in the direction of the mountains, trying to judge where the projectile that formed the hole could have come from.

"Hmm…" he began, "It looks like it must have come from over th –"

His words were cut short as a bolt of light suddenly shot from his finger and into the mountainside. There was yet another flash and a much bigger explosion. A giant, gaping hole had appeared in the rock face. Edgar shielded himself as dust and several small pebbles rained down upon him. Scrimshaw was either too shocked to shriek, or had passed out from fright.

When the ominous rumbling had died away, Edgar stared in horror at his right hand. The tips of his fingers were sparkling with white light.

Edgar tried to comprehend what was going on. He seemed to have regained his powers, but if he truly had, why were they acting so unpredictably? He now realized that he must have created those first two holes in the ground, but he hadn't created them intentionally…his powers suddenly seemed to have a mind of their own – but why?

His left arm suddenly gave a wild jerk, sending a huge ball of light screaming towards the wall of rock to his left. Instead of blasting a hole in the rock, however, it bounced off of it, and Edgar barely had time to duck as the huge, glowing sphere streaked his way, hitting the right rock face and fragmenting into a million shards of light, which quickly vanished.

Edgar looked at his now shaking hands in terror. Whatever was happening with his powers, he strongly suspected if he didn't do something about them, they would kill him.

Magic – he could feel it flowing through him again, but there was too much of it. He couldn't handle this much power. It was suffocating him, rending him apart. It was like a dragon tearing him to pieces from the inside. He had to release this power in some way…but how?

In came to him in an instant. Holding his energies in as well as he could, he turned to face the enormous boulder blockade barring his passage north, he steadied himself, pointed his hands towards the boulders, and let the dragon loose.

It was a good thing he had closed his eyes; the light that burst forth from his outstretched hands would have blinded him otherwise. The mighty cacophony of noise when the force of the magic struck the boulders was great too, but somehow muffled – his senses must have momentarily dulled to protect him. He heard and felt boulders landing heavily on either side of him, yet amazingly, he wasn't even grazed by a pebble. Perhaps the magic had sought to protect him as well.

When the noise and the dust had both gone, Edgar cautiously looked up. The huge wall of rocks was completely gone, remnants of it scattered on the ground. In its place was a clear path that led to the north. A quivering Scrimshaw cautiously poked his head out of Edgar's hood, cheeping cautiously.

"I guess I got lucky again," Edgar said, glancing dubiously at his hands. "But we'd better keep going, right, Scrimshaw?"

The tiny griffin chirped his approval and nestled into the warm security of the hood once more. Edgar began walking forward and was surprised at how weak he suddenly was. That magic had certainly taken a lot out of him. It was odd, though. That was a greater magic than Edgar had ever used before. Something that far beyond his present abilities should have knocked him unconscious with the effort, maybe even killed him. Yet he only felt a slight touch of fatigue. He had no idea what had happened, but at least he had his powers back…

Or did he?

Edgar stopped walking and cautiously tried conjuring up a ball of light, and sighed with relief as a healthy one appeared in the palm of his hand. He extinguished it and continued heading north.

The broad path northwards eventually led to a small clearing…but what a peculiar clearing it was. An odd hut that looked too small for any man to live in sat against the base of the west cliff and a wild assortment of odds and ends littered the base of the opposite cliff. A pair of oddly formed trees provided the faintest smattering of shade, and a tiny trickle of water cascaded down the cliffs on the east side, forming a tiny puddle of water at their base.

The sight of the water gave him an idea. He removed the merchant's receipt from his pocket and held it under the tiny waterfall. Sure enough, the white paint began to wash off, and within a few minutes, it was all gone, revealing yet another squat, curved cylinder with a precious stone set in it. This piece was painted a delicate green with a striking emerald set in it. Edgar tucked it into his pocket, which was starting to become weighted down with all the trinkets he had found, not to mention the other items he was carrying with him.

Edgar stood up and examined the rest of the clearing. The odds and ends turned out to be a hammer, an axe, a pair of thick scrolls that appeared unaffected by the weather, and what appeared to be three enormous versions of bungs used to cork casks of wine, the use of which Edgar couldn't guess, no matter how hard he racked his brains.

The hut was about the size of a haystack, and appeared to be either carved out of stone or sculpted out of a clay that blended in with the surrounding rocks perfectly. It appeared to have a metal frame, however, and several of its curved "ribs" were visible. It had a chimney-like structure protruding from its roof, with a small tunnel about two feet high at ground level.

Deciding to see whether the proprietor of the hut was home (and whether he or she could advise him in some way), Edgar dropped to his knees and peered through the tunnel. Suddenly, a cloud of thick smoke came blasting out of it, hitting him squarely in the face. Stunned and bewildered, Edgar staggered to his feet, half-blinded by the smoke and coughing heavily, trying desperately to clear his lungs. Then, a being of the same size and weight as a large cat but with the speed of a falcon struck him in the stomach, knocking him down and pinning him to the ground. At the same time, Scrimshaw liberated himself from Edgar's cloak with a terrified screech and flapped off.

As Edgar's vision began to clear, he found himself face to face with a small green creature that superficially resembled a dragon, except for its large forelimbs, which were part muscular arm and part webbed wing. It also had a small pencil tucked behind one ear, smoke still issuing from its nostrils and a very irritated expression on its face.

"A'right, Mister Snoop," it squawked in a belligerent voice, "Whaddaya want?"

Edgar would have responded to this right away, but as he was drawing breath to speak he realized that he was still choking on the smoke from the dragon's "greeting." A few resounding coughs were enough for him to just force out:

"Just…need…help…"

"Help?" the dragon sneered, kneading Edgar's tunic with its claws. "Yeah, sure, we could all use summa that. Sorry, bud, but I'm fresh out."

"No, wait!" Edgar said, finally catching his breath. "I just need some advice on where to go from here! You see, I'm on a journey with a friend and…"

"I don't know your friend, I don't know you, and I sure don't know that ball of fur and feathers that's sitting behind you, so let's just say we never met at all and leave it like that, capishe?"

With that, the dragon turned and launched itself off of Edgar's chest, straight back into the tunnel that led into its hut. Edgar shakily rose to his feet, incensed by the rudeness and unhelpfulness of the little creature. Surely there had to be a way to get this dragon to help him.

He turned to see Scrimshaw cowering on a rocky escarpment high on the east cliff. No matter how much coaxing Edgar tried, the tiny griffin refused to leave his perch.

Shrugging, Edgar turned his attention back to dealing with the dragon. There had to be some way to get him out of his hut again, but Edgar doubted that talking to him would get the job done. The small hammer lying on the ground and the metal bars of the hut's frame gave him an idea. If the dragon wouldn't yield to mere words, perhaps he could be persuaded by more forceful actions.

Edgar bent down and picked up the hammer. It was small and had three rounded notches near the end of its handle, which puzzled Edgar until he recalled the dragon having only three fingers on each forepaw, not counting the thumbs. A closer examination of the axe lying nearby revealed that it had three notches as well. He swung the hammer experimentally, getting a feel for its weight and strength, then approached the hut, stood poised in front of its entrance, raised the hammer above his head and brought it crashing down on one of the hut's metal bars with all his might.

The resulting noise was just as loud and cacophonous as Edgar had hoped, shaking the hut to its very foundations. Unfortunately, just as this was happening, the dragon shot straight up out of the chimney like an arrow, escaping the din almost before it had begun.

"You're not catching me with your hammer, friend!" he spat mockingly, hovering in midair for a moment before zipping back down the vertical exit.

Apparently the hammer alone wasn't going to force the dragon out of its home, and there was no way Edgar could catch it when it escaped through the chimney. But what if the chimney were blocked somehow?

Edgar's eye fell upon the large bungs lying near the tiny pool. He picked one of them up, quietly made his way back to the dragon's hut, and shoved the bung into the chimney's opening. He then stood outside the entrance again, ready to ambush the dragon when he fled the hut. He struck one of the metal bars with the hammer again, but the dragon sped up the chimney and popped the bung out as effortlessly as if it were made of cheese.

"Ha-ha!" he laughed scornfully. "Why don't you put that thing to better use? Use it to pound your head!"

Again he sped down the chimney once the noise made by the hammer had subsided, victorious. Edgar was frustrated, but not beaten yet. There had to be a way to keep that bung from being dislodged. If he could only seal it somehow…something like tar or pitch would do the job, but he had nothing like that on his person. He scanned the landscape and for the first time noticed the light blue mud that lined the sides of the pool. It was thick and lumpy…almost like clay, really.

Edgar hurried over to the pool and scooped up a lump of the colorful clay. He then made his way back to the hut, smeared the sides of the bung with the clay and jammed it into the chimney as firmly as he could. He started to wait for the mud to dry, then decided that he couldn't afford to wait, so he carefully dried the mud with his magic. It wasn't a permanent seal, but it would serve its purpose…hopefully.

For the third time, Edgar slammed the hammer against the hut's frame. Instead of a feisty dragon springing out of the chimney, there was a loud thud and a shout of pain, then a green streak that came shooting out of the entrance to the odd abode. Edgar brought his foot down on the streak, which halted abruptly – he had pinned its tail to the ground. Partially satisfied, Edgar tossed the hammer away and addressed his scaly captive:

"All right. I've gotten you out of your house, and I demand that you help me."

"There is nothing that I can do to help you, human," the dragon snarled.

Something snapped in Edgar's mind.

"Why does everyone keep calling me that?" he yelled exasperatedly. "I am not a human! I'm a fairy, a supernatural being also known as a fae, which assumes many different guises and dispositions and is related to elves, gnomes, dwarves and other creatures that may resemble humans, but are not human in any other way! I am a fairy!"

"You are?" the dragon asked, trying to hide its surprise and failing miserably.

"Yes," Edgar snarled, still fuming and slightly out of breath.

"Then…are you a native?"

"A native?" Edgar repeated. "Well…I was born here, if that's what you – "

"Well, I'm very sorry, comrade," the dragon said, suddenly becoming much less hostile and straightening itself as well as it could, despite Edgar's foot holding his tail down. "You just dress so differently than most folks around these parts, and I don't approve much of strangers tromping around here. Who knows, they could be spies from a conquering nation!"

"But why would a nation want to conquer Etheria?"

"Who knows? Maybe because we've grown so weak during these past years, maybe because we've got such a pretty place…or maybe because we're just so darn available, eh? What do you think?"

"Er, I don't want to think about that right now," Edgar said, not wanting to hear about a future which may or may not come to pass for him again, "But now that you know I'm a native, would you please help me?"

"Sure," the dragon replied politely as Edgar carefully lifted his foot off of its tail. "Whaddaya want?"

"Well, I'm on a quest with a friend of mine. We're in completely different places, but still, we're able to keep in contact with each other. I've just been going on blindly through these islands. I've traveled from Aeolus to here, Dark Etheria, and I'd just like to know where to go next. Do you have any ideas?"

The dragon put a paw to its chin in thought, the bend in its elbow making its wing jut out at an awkward angle.

"Hmmm. I think I've got an idea. This way."

He spread his arms/wings and took off towards the north. Edgar started following him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scrimshaw cautiously leave his perch on the cliff ledge and start flying after them.

The dragon stopped flying when they came to the edge of the isle. Edgar halted as well, and Scrimshaw brought up the rear, then flapped away to another perch as far from the dragon as possible – a modest-sized rock this time.

Edgar silently surveyed the scene that now lay before him. A heavy, lavender mist obscured the sky to the north, and an enormous, brooding island hung in the heavens in a manner that made it resemble a gigantic, bloated corpse. This one had to be the darkest of them all.

On the very edge of the island Edgar and the dragon stood on was a peculiar device. It had a huge, sturdy wooden frame supporting a lithe beam which curved back sharply and ended at a large, round, bowlike fixture large enough to hold a pair of ponies, which was somehow attached to the frame.

"What's this thing?" Edgar asked, turning to the dragon.

"It's a catapult, what's it look like?" the dragon replied, flapping his wings steadily, yet remaining surprisingly stationary in the air about two feet above the ground.

"Oh. I've just never seen one in real life before. Did you make this?"

"Yes," the dragon smiled smugly, "With my bare claws and tools that I also made myself. I rent it out to people who want their things moved for a low cost. I never miss my mark; I know my trajectories. Of course, I advise all my customers to use this system of transport only for non-breakables."

Here he snickered deviously.

"Hmm. I see," Edgar said, examining the catapult and the dark island it was aimed for. "And what does this have to do with my next destina – "

His words became caught in his throat as the truth dawned on him.

"Oh no," he shuddered.

"Come on now, it's not that bad," the dragon said gently. "I sometimes launch myself into the air for a joyride."

"But you have wings," Edgar pointed out, turning back to the little creature and indicating the appendages in question.

"But you're a fairy, right?" the dragon retorted. "You should be able to handle the ride. You always have your magic as a backup."

"Well…I guess you're right," Edgar mumbled, unable to say anything that would top the dragon's comeback. Although he would much rather have traveled to that island with his skyship, he was feeling quite tired from his journey through this rough part of Etheria, and he doubted that he would be able to control the ship efficiently in his current state. Plus, the dragon knew the island better than he did, and Edgar could easily arrive at a dangerous location if he were to travel there on his own, and of course, it would be rude of him to refuse the dragon's generous (albeit unusual) offer.

The dragon's mention of magic, however, brought a new subject to the surface of his mind:

"Speaking of magic, do you know of the physician that lives in Aeolus?"

"Yep."

"Well, he 'borrowed' my magic."

The dragon's eyes popped.

"No fooling??" he asked.

"Nope. But I've got it back now."

"Well, that's good."

"Yeah. But the strange thing is…when my magic started coming back to me…it was just bursting out of me like comets, out of control," Edgar said, gesturing with his arms for emphasis. "I think I almost killed myself. It was…it was suffocating me from within."

"Hmm," the dragon growled, putting its paw beneath its chin again.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" Edgar asked.

"Hmm…" the dragon repeated. "I think what you experienced was Sudden Magic Repossession."

"What's that?"

"When certain magical beings are separated from their powers, the power remains dormant and unusable by them, wherever it is. Under normal conditions, lost magic is regained slowly over a short period of time, but if the being who has lost his magic tries to call upon his power and use it, that can cause the power to build up, and when his powers do finally come back, they come back pretty much out of control. You weren't, by any chance, 'trying your magic out' while it was still gone, were you?"

"Well…" Edgar said sheepishly, "Now that you mention it…yes…"

The dragon looked at Edgar as if the prince had explained how he had taken the door to his house off of its hinges to keep anyone from unlocking it while he was gone.

"Oh, brother!" the dragon groaned, flapping up towards Edgar until he was almost at the prince's eye level. "Don't you know the basic principles of magic, kid? Next time, keep your zaps to yourself until you've got them back!"

"All right, all right," Edgar replied, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Now, about helping you," the dragon continued, returning to his former position, obviously as eager to put that subject behind him as Edgar was, "That dark island north of here is one of the largest isles of Dark Etheria. And it is indeed, one of the darkest of the lot."

"Dangerous?"

"As nasty as it gets, buddy," the dragon grinned, "But hopefully your magic will help you out. Just be careful with that stuff in the future. It could cost you an arm and a leg…literally."

"Uh…right."

The dragon tucked in its wings and landed quite ungracefully. It then took the pencil out from behind its ear and began scratching out some calculations in the dirt, muttering to itself as it did. Edgar was starting to reconsider his labeling the creature as a dragon. It wasn't like any dragon he had ever seen. Perhaps it was a wyvern – wyverns were like dragons with only two hind legs…but they didn't have such dexterous fingers at the ends of their wings, did they? Whatever this little creature was, it certainly was quite the craftsman…more of a craftsman than any dragon or wyvern Edgar had heard about, anyway.

"And this catapult, if I'm not mistaken…hmm…hmm…ah, yes, yes, this is perfect," the dragon said triumphantly, tucking its pencil back behind its ear and flapping into the air again. "This catapult is positioned just right to send someone of your weight safely and quickly to the main island. Just take a seat in the basket and we should be on our way."

"Ah…wait a minute, Sir Dragon. I need to talk to someone before I leave."

"Who? That puny griff that's been following you around?" the dragon asked. Scrimshaw hissed indignantly.

"No. Someone else. Just a minute."

Yes, he was stalling, but that wasn't the only reason Edgar turned away from the dragon and his homemade catapult. It had been some time since he had seen…her. How long had it been? Half a day? Or had it been even longer than that? It was so difficult to keep track of time now that he was stepping into a new period of it every few hours. Wherever she was, Edgar felt that it would be a good idea to contact her now. Just to see where she was, tell her where he was and where he was headed…and to make sure that she was faring well, too. And perhaps if he could talk her into coming to this land…if it was as dangerous as the dragon said it was, he wouldn't want to imperil her, but all the same, they would be much safer as a pair rather than apart.

He drew his pendant out of his garments and began thinking of the dark hair and green eyes which belonged to the woman named Cassima…

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