Time passes. How many days? Maybe thirty or so. Alptraum's attempts to break off pieces of furniture to use in a plan to pry open the bars have met with miserable failure and personal injury. It's as if the deities have arrayed themselves against him. Or maybe someone has put a curse on him. (He's heard rumors of Chaos Magic being used to make everything that can go wrong for someone GO WRONG … but those might just be stories.) In any case, while he's been regularly fed (and that fact has helped him to get some measure of how the time passes) and provided with simple amenities, he hasn't had any visitors – certainly not a visit from Thath, in any case.

In this time, Unity Day has come and gone, without any noticeable difference in the behavior of the guards that Alptraum can hear outside his door, though they don't respond to him – not even noises in his room that might suggest to the jumpy that he's trying to make good his escape. At least he's managed to keep somewhat in shape, despite the lack of room to fly about. There are rafters, after all, for hanging by one's feet, rather than to sleep in the bed. (And, given the morbid turns of Alptraum's morose state of mind, it occurs to him more than once that it wouldn't be that hard for someone to tie the bed sheets together and hang himself from them.)

Of course, by now, it is also very evident that Alptraum's secret dietary needs aren't entirely secret anymore. A rumble of wheels behind the wall and then light ring of a bell chime alerts Alptraum to the arrival of the dumb waiter. A muffled squeal from the dumb waiter alerts him to the fact that it's his lunch. Yiffles, yet again. (Though, occasionally, he's served a plump lizard. At least they haven't served him vermites.)

Alptraum looks at the dumbwaiter through narrowed eyes from where he sits on the bed. He continues to click two of his claw tips together for a bit, then slowly rises from the bed. "Why do they even bother," he mutters, "They might as well get it over with and kill me." He reaches into the dumbwaiter and grabs the squealing creature tightly and pulls. His jaws open, fangs glinting and ready to simply bite and feed. The motions are mechanical, from the repetitiousness of the action since he's been in here.

The yiffle shrieks, but it soon passes out from its own terror, as domesticated yiffles (is there such thing as a wild one?) tend to do after a bit. (It's only the expensive, best-bred ones that are supposed to keep conscious and wriggling violently down to the very last; Nagas like their food to keep moving.) But out of the corner of his eye, something registers as unusual. A shadow, moving…

Alptraum withdraws his hand. "All right, who's in there?" he says in a tone that's blunt, soft, and controlled.

The dumb-waiter hatch, now closed, nonetheless emits a sinuous, shadowy form – and for a moment, it seems as if a snake of some sort has managed to squeeze through the impossibly thin crack at the bottom of the hatch … but, no, this is something flat, projected on the wall, as if someone were playing a shadow-play. It looks faintly reminiscent of a flying Creen wiggling its way across the wall, though its form is vague, indistinct, not hard for someone to miss, or to dismiss as just a trick of the sometimes flickering gaslight – well, maybe not that easy to dismiss, now that it blinks two little gap eyes at Alptraum, its two-dimensional form "hovering" higher up on the wall near him.

"Hello, mage," Alptraum replies, knowing better than use a name in case it's a trap. "Yes, I'm still alive – if you call this living. What brings you here? Probably people worried about me."

The little shadow-creen wiggles a little jig across the wall, leaving streams of shadow in its wake that spell out, "Hurrah! You're not dead!" It then loops around and scribbles on the wall, "Been looking for you!" The letters then fade away, though the shadow-creen remains, fluttering over to "perch" on a tile set in the wall.

"Avralie, well, I was an idiot and saved someone I probably shouldn't have. Got myself caught in the process," Alptraum replies as he watches the 'shadow'," Alptraum answers. "I guess my friends assume I'm dead by now, avra? Dare I ask how bad things are outside these walls?"

A question-mark balloons above the shadow-creen's head as Alptraum laments, but then it "pops," and the Creen flies around, scribbling words on the wall in its wake – with such frequency that many of the letters are rather packed together, requiring Alptraum to take a little more effort to read them clearly. It doesn't help that the Creen seems to frequently forget all sorts of punctuation except for exclamation points. "On Unity Day Vizier Thath and the Coalition made a big announcement that there's a new parliamentary government in charge of Babel and things are going to be different now no Sabaoth or High Prince or High Princess and in fact I think things are going to change with the temples because a couple of Yodhsunalas tried to assassinate Thath!!!!!"

The letters begin to fade, as the Creen circles back to write more. "They failed of course because he's still alive and he said that was only proof that they don't even have the blessing of their goddess Sunala because they failed so they must be out of favor and all these out of favor priestesses have only done Babel a whole lot of bad by stirring up the people into hopeless causes and stuff like that!!! There was a lot of shouting and lots of people got angry but I think a lot of the people agreed with him!!!"

"I know about the assassination part. Frankly, Thath deserved it," Alptraum mutters. "As long as the changes are good, I can't complain. That's what I was hoping for. But anything Thath has had a hand is can't be good."

The Creen blinks a few times, as its letters fade, but then it adds, "Well I don't know much about Thath so I don't want to say anything on that one way or the other! I just want to help people! And it looks like you're in some bad trouble right now!!! The security here is real tight, and I had a lot of trouble finding some holes to get past wards! They might even be able to tell and patch things up so I can't do this again! But is there anything I can do to help? Maybe pass some messages on? Let someone know you're okay?"

Alptraum rubs his eyes lightly and sighs. "I doubt you can break these bars so I can try to make an escape, so I guess messages will do. If Autumn-Storm is still around, you could let her know. She's a Savanite and my best friend. I think she was staying with the Yodhsunala for a bit, but maybe not. Not sure where she would be otherwise. Phlagaea was with the Yodhsunala, she might like to know I'm intact. And I don't know if you could talk to Sunala, the little girl, and let her know I still live. She may not always show it, but I know she's concerned about me. There were some Yodhrinala who knew me slightly, but I'm not sure they'd be concerned one way or another. I hope they're doing okay," he says.

The Creen loops around, and begins to write, "Well, if you can tell me who all these people look like, I might do a better job!" Then, it writes, "The Yodhrinala are okay … but they're worried!"

"Autumn-Storm is a Savanite, dark brown hair, long and curly. She's a bit sneaky, but she's always been there for me. If you tell her the guy who still thinks his ears aren't big sent you, she'll know it's from me. Phlagaea is easy. She's green, very green – and wrapped in gauze. Little Sunala is easy too. A girl, looks maybe twelve or so, coloring like mine, completely white eyes and scarred wings. She was in charge of those on Mount Sunala. Be careful with her, I'm still trying to figure her out. I know she cares about me, though. So, news of me would probably be welcome," Alptraum replies, then smiles ruefully. "I have an odd collection of friends. I always seem to try and help people, find the good in them. It's what got me stuck here."

"Having friends is good!" the Creen writes, then adds a few more exclamation points for good measure. "I'll try to let them know! I'm sorry I can't bend any bars for you! I'm not that powerful of a mage yet! But if you're still stuck here by the time I become a powerful wizard maybe I can come back and give it a try!"

"Oh, you might want to tell Lord and Lady Cenesta I'm okay. They might be worried. They may also still be prisoners here too, don't know," Alptraum adds.

"I'll see if I can find out!" the Creen promises, writing on the wall, amidst a cloud of other letters still fading away. Then, it pauses, and "erases" some of the mess with a sweep of its tail, making the letters easier to read, before they, too, fade away.

"Thank you. Sorry I haven't been as much help to Babel as I'd hoped. Be careful and don't do anything risky. We don't need anymore prisoners here," Alptraum says.

"Aw, you'll figure something out!" the Creen writes on the wall. "At least, I sure hope so!" It then wipes off the letters, and writes, in really big letters, "GOOD LUCK!!!!!!!!!" flies through the "O"s of the letters, waves its tail goodbye, then flitters through the hatch of the dumb waiter, while the letters on the wall slowly expand and fade, as if they had been written in smoke.

Alptraum watches the strange creation flit away, then heads back over to the dumbwaiter. "Waste not, want not," he mutters and reaches in, grabbing the Yiffle. Might as well have lunch, since it's here.

More days pass. Alptraum spends most of that time exercising to keep himself in shape. The solitude has been getting to him. At times, it seems as if maybe the sounds he assumes to be that of guards outside the door might be just illusion – They never respond when he calls out to ask for something (though many times his requests turn into something coming up in the dumb waiter a while later), and he doesn't ever hear them chattering or muttering to themselves. They change shifts frequently, and patrols go by, but no murmuring or even hellos to each other, as they go.

Many days later, while Alptraum is doing chin-ups on the rafter bar, he sees something out of the corner of his eye again, near the dumb waiter. Now and again, this happens – the gaslights are not a perfect, steady source of light, and this much time alone makes his mind play tricks on him – but this time, it's evident that the "shadow out of the corner of his eye" isn't going away. It's a little shadow-creen slipped in through the dumb-waiter, and it has flown around to "perch" on the top of the hatchway, as if the hatch were a box. It waves its scribbly shadow wings in greeting.

Alptraum lets go of the bar and drops quietly to his feet. "Hello again. I'm surprised you were able to make it in here. Did you have any luck at all finding people?" he inquires.

The Creen flaps up into the "air" along the wall, and leaves letters in its wake. "There were some wards, but they had flaws in them, so I got through." The little Creen has something dangling around it – a satchel, drawn in outline, with a long stringy "strap" looped around its neck and one wing, hanging at its side. It flutters back down, and reaches into the "satchel" with a foot-claw, and pulls out a blocky outline of a "scroll," then a few more.

Alptraum watches, brow raised. Weird things always surround him, it seems.

The little Creen unrolls a "scroll" on the wall, which turns into a passable semblance of a letter, though with rather large handwriting – of a style very different from the Creen's own "tail-writing."

Alptraum tilts his head slightly, and attempts to read the letter.

"ALPTRAUM – " the scroll begins. "Have you lost your MIND?!? I'm glad you're still alive, but, goodness, you're INSANE! I'm counting on you to pull a miracle somehow anyway." Next is the word "When," except that it's been scratched out. "IF you get free, look me up in Sylvania. It seems a lot safer than here. Promise me you'll stay out of the Sea of Souls, and I'll stay out, too." It is signed, "Care, Your Friend, You-Know-Who."

Alptraum reads it, starts to reach out, then lowers his hand. "Goodbye Autumn-Storm. I hope we will meet again," he whispers.

Once it looks like Alptraum is finished, the Creen pulls out another "scroll," spreading it out on the flat surface of the wall. This one is in a much more refined script, as if done with a calligraphy pen, and at a glance it's evident that at the bottom it bears the seal of House Cenesta. But it begins at the top, "Dear young Master Reisender. We are very sorry to hear about your present predicament, and express our sincerest wishes that this matter will be sorted out as soon as possible. Babel is going through a time of great confusion and turmoil for now, and we are firm in our belief that it greatly needs more brave young people like you. Having been guests of the Coalition Tower ourselves, we understand that you will be treated with the utmost hospitality. In this, we take a personal interest, in light of your demonstrated character, and work ethic, during your time in our employment. We look forward to working with you again in the future."

"With sincerest regards," the scroll finishes, "Lord and Lady Cenesta." Very formal, very refined, were it not rendered in shadows by a scribble-creen.

Alptraum lets out a small huff. "Diplomatic, as always. Can't blame them," he says quietly.

This scroll fades, and the shadow-creen pulls out another. "My Dearest Alptraum," it begins, in a willowy, spidery script that seems almost scratched into the wall compared to the shadows around it. "Curse Thath and his Coalition, and even more that they have you. Once I find some way, I will get you out of this, but my resources are drawn thin. I am the last of the ordained sisterhood of Babel, though I have made contact with my younger sisters in the outlying settlements, and those that remain of Gorphat's attendants. It is with heavy heart that I must decide that Gorphat's temple in Babel must be abandoned for now, though some day it will be reclaimed from the Coalition's godless reign."

Alptraum shakes his head and says, "Goodbye, Phlagaea. Looks like I lose you too."

It continues, "My sisters among the Yodhsunala have been kind on account of you, and on account of the common enemy we have in the Coalition. In the Unity Day speeches, they made it clear enough to those with ears to hear that the temples will have no part in their vision of the future. For now, it is only rumor that the Yodh will be persecuted, but I know it is inevitable. But we will keep heart, and regain our strength. You have delivered me, and if you should be held from me, may Gorphat curse your captors with poxes and boils beyond number. May their noses run freely with… " At this point, the letter devolves into a very evocative description of just how Phlagaea would like to curse Thath and his fellows, in a way only a Yodhgorphat could narrate.

Alptraum can't help but laugh.

"… Do not stay away from me! Let the gods not permit such a thing! I burn with a fever, that I miss you so! And I burn willingly, that I may never forget you. Return to me soon!" And then it ends with, "Yours forever, Phlagaea, High Priestess of Gorphat."

Alptraum stops laughing.

Alptraum blinks a few times and re-reads that.

The words don't shift or change. They remain as they are – as odd as they might be. The Creen, heedless to this, just begins to pull out another scroll, even as this one starts to fade away.

Alptraum starts to say something. He raises a hand … he finds he really just doesn't know what to say. It's flattering – yet disturbing at the same time.

The next scroll comes out, and it seems immediately to be a little different than the rest. The Creen shivers slightly, as it sets out the scroll, which seems to somehow glow against the wall – as if the ivory of the wall bleaches white in a halo around the impenetrable blackness of the lines. The scroll unrolls, revealing a very deliberate Babelite formal script, almost hieroglyphic in form, with elaborately worked capitals – a letter that could well be an inscription upon the wall of a temple, one might suppose from its form, if unable to read its contents.

"Well, I know who this is from," Alptraum replies and tries to read, straining at his knowledge of Babelite script.

"Alptraum," it begins. "You did well to spare Nekara. I know that in her heart, she has her doubts in Me, but I forgive her of this. Thath is far from forgiveness, however, for the things he has done. Still, I understand your reluctance to take his life. For your sake, I will not permit My daughters to attempt to bring him harm again."

Alptraum shakes his head and says, "Now I see why Thath has kept me alive. Insurance."

The letter continues, "I strive to unite My people, in Babel's time of need. I have revealed to My daughters that I am more than Death, but I am Life as well, and I have commanded them to act accordingly. Though the Yodhrinala are yet wary of My daughters, I have commanded that they be allowed to do their work, for the greater good of Babel."

"At least that's something. At least she sees the unity of the two and is trying to make things better. Funny, it's what I was trying for," Alptraum says, then shakes his head in wonder as to why he's talking to himself.

"My daughters' work to heal the wounded and sick has inspired some hope among Babel, but too late," the letter continues. "It cannot be avoided that for the greater good of Babel, My daughters must leave this city, and go to the outlying lands. They shall spread out, so that they are not gathered together in one place – they shall not be easily rounded up by their enemies, and they shall more effectively spread My word and My blessings among those who remain faithful."

"I suppose it is for the best. Maybe. They have the gift to help, to heal, but," Alptraum starts to say, then just stops.

"The Daughter of Shadows has come to My aid, with promise of help from the Knights that were banished from Rephidim. She does not believe in My divinity, but nonetheless pledges her support for My people, and so My people will accept her aid," the letter goes on. "You must remain strong in heart. I know of your secret. It makes you no less the Barsunala."

Alptraum's eyes go wide at that. "She knew? How? Who told her … ?" he says, wondering.

"No harm will come to you. If Thath should be foolish enough to allow such to come to you, he knows that My wrath will be held back no longer. Once My faithful are removed from Babel, I shall be free in My curse to fall upon the blasphemers who remain. Not one shall remain with breath in the Tower that is your prison, should you come to harm. Thath knows this, and he trembles." For a signature, it ends only with a rune – The Corpse – though it has been superimposed with some less familiar sigil that has escaped Alptraum's education of archaic Babelite writing. It's something that looks vaguely familiar – something he may have seen around Mount Sunala – but not easily placed at the moment.

"Is that the rune of life?" Alptraum wonders and peers closely. "If she is Life and Death, it would make sense."

It could well be a variant of it, though the letter is already fading away (and the hieroglyphic font made for slow reading). The Creen blinks a few times at Alptraum, then shrugs, and scribbles, "That's all!"

Alptraum uses a claw to try and make a thin line scratch over the fading rune that he can wipe away later. He wants to remember it. "That's all? I should have tried to contact Mariamara, but I'm certain Sunala told her. Looks like all my friends are leaving this place, then. I suppose it is for the best, but it leaves me here. Stuck with that conniving old man. Probably permanently if Thath does fear some reprisal if I'm harmed," he replies, then shrugs. "Haven't heard any whispers in the tower about them letting me go, have you?"

A little white line appears on the Creen's face to suggest a big frown, and it shakes its two-dimensional head. "No!" it writes. "Everybody is zip-lip! And the wards work better against spy-spirits when the person is trying not to get spied on! But you're not trying to keep yourself hidden from me, so it's not hard for me to get to you!"

"Yeah, but I'd prefer for me to be able to get to you," Alptraum mutters. "I'm going crazy in here. I can't take the same walls, day after day, after day. I grew up on the roads, for goodness sake."

A little "candle" appears over the Creen's head, and suddenly, it zips about the room in a flurry of activity! It scribbles flowers, trees, a big smiley-faced bat-eared sun in the sky, happy little Creens, fat little yiffles, happy Eeees, lots of really really tall towers, and other Babel-ish and woodsy touches (indiscriminately mixed together) here and there.

(Alas, the nature of the charm seems to be that the first shadows the Creen scribbled are already fading away by the time it gets to the end of its artistic binge.)

Alptraum laughs slightly. "I appreciate the effort, but it's not the same. I can't spread my wings or get myself lost in the wisps of clouds in the sky. It's near torture for me," Alptraum admits. "But, thanks anyway. You've risked yourself more than once for me."

The Creen pouts a bit, but then writes, "I'll keep bringing you messages when I can. Until they figure it out and stop me from visiting, of course. Please don't tell anyone!" The Creen holds up its tail in front of its mouth in a "Shush!" pantomime.

"Even if I would, who would I tell? I never see anyone in here. I'm alone, all the time," Alptraum replies. "But, no, I won't tell. No worries."

The Creen bobs its head, then writes, "Running out of time! Gotta go! Bye-bye!" It waves its tail vigorously, then slips into the dumb-waiter again. The letters fade from the wall quickly, leaving no trace of graffiti whatsoever.

Alptraum salutes, then flops back down on the bed and looks to the part of the wall he tried to make a light scratch of the symbol. "And now back to! More of the same. I wish they'd shoot me," he mutters.

More time passes. A few days, with no sign of any return messages from the shadow-creen, though still not as long of an interval as occurred between the two visits the first time … so maybe that's not a bad sign. Not entirely, anyway.

But another day comes, when something unexpected happens. There is a knock at the door.

"Oh look, someone remembered me," Alptraum mutters. "I'm decent," he shouts, not moving from the spot on the bed where he sits, one leg pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around it.

The door glides open, and in steps the big white-furred Fnerf who stopped by earlier. "You are ready for accepting a visitor, yes?" she asks, only opening the door enough to stick in her head, one ear catching against the door frame, and then popping forward once she sticks her head in the rest of the way. She scans the room with her eyes, until her gaze falls on Alptraum.

"I'm bathed, dressed, and relatively well. Who's wanting to see me?" Alptraum inquires, still not moving from his position.

"Vizier Thath is most apologizing for his being very busy with matters of state, but would like to speak with you, about your being in his office, if you are not otherwise busy?" the Fnerf asks, with what seems for all the world like earnestness.

"Well, I've just finished high tea with the King of nowhere. And that match of cards I had with … of for goodness sake. How could I possibly be busy? I have nothing to do. The most I've done lately is have a great one sided conversation with my pillow," Alptraum retorts, irritated. "So, I am not busy, and yes I am willing to see him."

"Ah. Well, most pleased will he be, then. One moment," she says, and then the white vulpine head disappears from view. The door closes a little, then opens again, this time to admit a tall, chalk-white Eeee with raven-black hair that seems to blend in like a cowl to the black robes he wears. "Greetings, young master Reisender," Thath says, cordial but formal, as the door closes behind him. "I would have seen you sooner, but a most unfortunate incident in my office hindered my mobility considerably."

"Avralie," Alptraum replies, watching the older Eeee. "How long am I to be kept here?"

"That depends on a great many things," Thath says. "How did you happen to be in my office?"

"I did some asking and snooping on the streets and found a way into the vent shafts. I had my memory, and some rough information on the layout of the building, to find my way around with. It was mostly correct," Alptraum answers, eyes fixed on the Eeee.

"I was not aware that flaws in our security were to be exploited by those who asked around on the streets," Thath says. "But in any case, there still remains the question of why you were there."

"In all honesty? To find out exactly what you were up to," Alptraum answers and shrugs. "I wanted to know much of what I've seen you had a hand in. If you're asking in a polite way if I came to kill you, the answer is no."

"And so, despite attempts to end my life violently, I am still here nonetheless," Thath says. "I am glad to hear that you were not here with such an intent. Perhaps it will be no longer necessary to keep you here. A new day is dawning for Babel; the night of chaos is finally passing away. We have come to an agreement on the matter of who shall rule Babel – and the answer? We all shall. On Unity Day, the constitution of Babel's new parliamentary government was signed. You may breathe more easily to know that what I have been up to has merely been to see to it that differences were put aside long enough to make such a monumental accomplishment possible."

"Such as sending a group of children into the Tower of Babel to rid yourself of the General? It's one thing to fight an opponent; it's another to use children to do it," Alptraum says softly. "Or, was it you that started the war with Rephidim all those years ago – and if so, why? It is things such as that I was seeking to know answers to. I had to know the truth about you – father. Because it would answer things about me."

Thath stands there a long time, his eyes not leaving Alptraum's face. A thin smile finally cracks his lips. "So, there are even more interesting stories to be heard on the streets than just how to crawl around through forgotten air ducts in the Coalition Tower, mmm?"

"I have 'interesting' friends. Isn't that how you put it?" Alptraum answers, returning the look.

"Yes, I suppose you do," Thath says, "though even more interesting than I assumed. But this all reminds me of a story I heard once, from a long time ago." He looks away, this time toward the wall, and folds his hands behind his back. "Once upon a time, there was a cruel and wicked king, drunk with his own power, drunk with the pleasures of his office, who knew no restraint, who knew no respect – not even for his most faithful servants. He had an advisor who faithfully served him, and his advisor had a beautiful wife. Although the advisor found favor in the eyes of his king, his wife found favor as well, but for entirely different reasons."

Alptraum curls his fingers around his leg and listens.

"The advisor's wife was honorable – to a fault, perhaps. She would not defy her king, for fear of jeopardizing the position – and the life – of her husband. But she also would not betray her husband's love. And so, there was only one path left open to her that honor would allow – an honorable death." Thath continues to look at the wall. "But death was not the end. The gods took pity on this young couple, and united them again for a time – so that she might explain why it was that she died … and so that they might hold each other again, as in life. And, miraculously enough, a son was born to them, though this fact was hidden from the advisor for a time. But the king learned – he learned of a young boy who had been born of a dead mother, and who had no father. He heard prophesies about this boy – that he would have the gift of immortality. And this was a gift that the king desired for himself."

"For this king had many wizards in his court, who used ancient magic to prolong his life … but mere long life was not enough for him. He was considered a god made flesh among his people – and he wished to be as such," Thath continues. "This boy would be the way for him. He had the boy taken to his palace, raised to be physically fit, but with no care given to his mind … for in due time, when the king grew old, this boy's body – grown to manhood – would become a vessel for the king's spirit. The king would be immortal … in the body of this boy."

"But, the boy he took, was not the one," Alptraum says quietly. "You didn't realize that at the time, did you?"

"The advisor did not realize," Thath says. "The priestesses were wary of the king's will, and considered it blasphemy, his intentions – for his intentions were not concealed from them. They placed a doppelganger in his care. The advisor came to learn that he had a son … but mistook this doppelganger for his own. He did what he could to see to it that the son wanted for nothing, but only from a distance … and knowing that in time, his son would die for the king's pleasure. He had gained a son … only to know that he would lose him again, just as he had lost his wife. So, he plotted the king's death. The king was so foolish that even though he had cost his own advisor so dearly, he still trusted him totally."

"The king was poisoned with a terrible venom for which there was no cure – or so the advisor thought," Thath continues. "The advisor made a show of seeking help from far and wide, some cure for this malady, but, of course, no one had one. Any cure was only temporary, for the king's 'illness' returned – for he was still being poisoned. But then a healer came, who almost thwarted the advisor's plans … except that the king was so foolish that he was easily angered by his own savior … and banished this healer from his lands."

"You see, this king had a habit of coveting women belong to other men – even to his own son," Thath says, a sneer wrestling with his attempt to hold a plain expression. "This soft-hearted healer had asked, as a boon, that the king's own son be able to keep his own wife." Thath looks down. "If only the young prince had known that his wife wanted the attentions of both king and prince … but that is another story."

Alptraum's silver eyes watch the old man, listening quietly.

"They were banished," Thath continues. "The king's health continued to decline – as did his sanity. In his weakness, he wanted to be stronger. He wanted to prove his strength – his godhood. And this, if not the poison, could be his undoing. He would be goaded into becoming so insane that no one would follow him. The crazed king declared war on the Sky Gods."

"The people followed him," Thath says. "But there would be no victory. The advisor spoke out against war, and true to his word, the army experienced an amazing lack of ability to coordinate amongst themselves. Their attack on the Sky Gods was plagued by miscommunication and misdirection. It failed miserably. The people turned against the king. He was slain by a mere commoner. His weak son ascended the throne, and died after a short reign."

"So the line of that king is gone now," Thath says. "It is not a very happy ending … but there are stories with less happy endings than that, I'm sure you know."

"I've heard a few," Alptraum replies. "But the Advisor didn't stop there."

"Stories tend to keep going," Thath says, looking back at Alptraum, "until we get tired of telling them. There are a great many things the advisor did, out of necessity. A necessity to destroy the old evils that marked Babel – a necessity to purge Babel of all that the king represented."

"You hated him that much. And I can understand that," Alptraum says. "The Yodh, did you grow to hate them because the King had taken your son – then to find out the Yodh, in the end, had been the ones that truly had him?"

"The Yodh have been responsible for a great many deceptions," Thath says. "But the most unforgivable sin … was that they provided that advisor's wife with her 'honorable death'."

"Encouraged her on that path, in her time of crisis," Thath adds, seething.

Alptraum takes a breath and looks away. "One life. Is one life worth ten? One hundred? One thousand?" Alptraum asks. "Forgive me, but I have to ask how many wives of others have the Advisor's actions taken the lives of?"

"Far fewer than might have otherwise occurred at the hands of a mad king," Thath says, dismissively. "Babel now has the chance to be infinitely better than it was in years past. No longer shall it be a brooding, seething little malcontent, looking covetously at the wealth and power of the 'Sky Gods,' occasionally throwing a tantrum, and then being tossed back into its crib. No, now, Babel shall play the part of friend to all, bowing even to the Sky Gods for so long as it is necessary, but without giving the Sky Gods due cause to spend their wrath on Babel … Babel shall grow stronger."

"And what are you going to do with me, then?" Alptraum inquires and looks back at last. "Your … son. Whom is also a stranger to you."

"Yes, such a question," Thath says, looking away again. "Were I to have a son, my son would be very discreet, free of a wagging tongue. If he were not … I could not let him go about, spreading groundless rumors and wild accusations. But if he showed discretion, then I should have no cause for keeping him within arm's reach."

"And you would not care if he left Babel, never to return?" Alptraum inquires. "Are all you concerned about is if he would be a threat to you? You do not want to actually get to know him?"

"There are many things to regret, many things to care about," Thath says. "But that will have to wait for another time. I will let Arnet know that our guest is ready to leave." He turns to look at Alptraum briefly, as he goes to the door.

"Father, I do not know you, nor you me. But, I first came here seeking to learn of my past – who I was supposed to be. If it's true that you are seeking to help Babel, and perhaps my birth was destined to help … I don't know, but that is what I have been trying to do as well. I was making some progress with the Yodh on that, in fact, and may yet make more," Alptraum says. "So … perhaps we can find a way to mend a torn family. If anything, one could keep the other in check, avralie? You so hated what the Sabaoth became and what he did … we could keep each other from going that path."

"Perhaps," is all that Thath says, and then he closes the door behind him.

Alptraum mutters a short curse in Sylvanian. "If you were willing to give me straight answers on everything else, why not that? I made a promise to Nekara I was to protect Babel. If I can do that, and help find – peace, isn't it worth it? Or have you grown so afraid over the years to even try to truly care? Is hate all you have left? " he adds, then pulls his legs to his chest again and grips them. All the pain Thath has caused others, all the suffering, he finds himself unable to hate the man completely. And so, the Eeee who's traveled halfway around the world, survived countless horrors, found gentleness hidden away in darkness, and uncovered a past of pain, finds himself crying quietly, alone.