Merritt was humbled by all the wyrms who offered to join Dr. Rathpalla on his expedition. There was Karl, of course, and Brand and Nurse Costran, but also others from Room 268: Nathan, Paul, Valentine—that kind young man—and Merritt, herself.

"Are you sure you want to do this, honey?" Storn asked.

Merritt shook her head. "Oh, not at all. I'm scared, dear. But… I'm used to that by now." She clutched her claws against her chest, or what felt like it should be her chest. "I've spent so much of my adult life in a state of fear. I feared for Amanda and Josh's well-being, and the hours of agony waiting for me whenever I spotted the aura that comes before my migraines. I've lived in fear of my casseroles coming out undercooked or burnt like the heat bricks from your barbecue grill. You remember those dark days when the Innocents of the Mountain were setting off bombs all throughout the city?"

Storn nodded. "I could never forget."

"I've felt that way seemingly every day. I've been afraid for almost as long as I can remember. I worried about drivers who drive so recklessly, and you know how stressful it is for me to drive myself into town. I'm always worrying that I'll trigger a migraine." She shook her head. "I… Angel forgive me, Storn, I've even worried that the day might come when you leave me. I mean, I know I'm such a bother; everything has to be complicated, and I hate that, and I hate how it weighs on you, and—"

Store's spirit grew in size—a couple feet, perhaps—until he was large enough to wrap his arms around her neck in a deeply felt hug.

"S-Storn…" Merritt trembled.

Then Storn stepped back and looked her in the eyes—all six of them. Yet, in his mind—and Merritt knew this, because she was tapped into it—he saw her as she had been, the lovely young woman in the long skirt and chemise with the wavy, ponytail bound, strawberry-blonde hair.

"Merritt," he said, "I didn't marry you because you were perfect. I married you because I love you. I can get testy at anyone for using up all the sugar to make too many batches of cherry casserole. But you're the only one I'm willing to look past it for." He shook his head and smiled. "Neither of us are perfect the way we are." He ran his hand through her hair. "That's what we chose to endure, together, and I'd make that same choice a thousand times over."

Storn looked nervously at the Imperial Palace's entrance where the volunteering wyrms were gathering.

"You don't need to prove yourself to me," he said, "least of all in something as dangerous as this."

Gently, Merritt pressed her fingertip—clawtip—on Storn's nose. "I'm not doing it for you, Storn; I'm doing it for me. It's not fair that others put themselves in fear's path for my sake if I'm not willing to do the same."

"Kurt," Yuth said, "keep watch out here."

He nodded. "Will do."

Dr. Marteneiss cupped her hands at her mouth. "Alright people, we're going in."

Merritt slithered up to the entrance. "If you don't mind, Dr. Marteneiss, Dr. Rathpalla," she bowed curtly to both doctors, "I'd like to come with you."

"Are you sure?" Karl asked.

He seemed so worried about her; so worried about everyone, really.

"Yes," she answered.

"I'm opening the doors," Dr. Rathpalla said.

Everyone turned as he flung the grand doors open with his powers.

"Here we go…" Storn muttered.

Merritt pulled his spirit back into herself and then checked the doorway with her third eyes.

Oh dear.

The feeding phenomenon Karl had noticed had intensified. Closing her eyes, Merritt could feel a slight tingle running down the length of her body, as if spiderwebs were being dragged across her hide.

The wyrms slithered in one by one. Dr. Rathpalla took the lead.

Merritt entered last. She took hold of the doors with her powers and shut them behind once she'd pulled the last bit of her tail into the Palace.

Not even the end of the world could make the Imperial Palace's entrance hall ugly. The lights were on, casting a warm, ochre ambience on the piebald marble floors and the wood inlays in the walls. A grand, balustraded staircase rolled out from the far wall, past the row of columned archways, at either end of which hallways split off to the left and right, burrowing deeper into the building.

"I… I don't like it here," Karl said.

Brand slithered forward, gawking at their surroundings. "I don't believe it."

"What?" Merritt asked.

He glanced at her. "There's no sign of the fungus anywhere."

"Angel's breath," Merritt muttered, "you're right."

The building's interior was pristine. Merritt couldn't see so much as a single spot of mold.

Several of the other volunteers started wandering about, looking for anything else that was out-of-the-ordinary.

It took all of seven seconds for Merritt to notice the next out-of-place detail: she smelled coal gas.

Her many nostrils puckered at the heavy scent. The smell plucked her out of time and sat her down in her mother's kitchen, a lifetime ago. Coal gas had been a permanent fixture of her childhood home, as inescapable as the old four-pronged porcelain shower handles, or the gravity heaters with the signaling lights that never quite worked. Merritt's family home dated back to the First Republic, and the historic coal gas stove in the kitchen was just one of the many antiques Merritt's parents and grandparents and great-grand-parents had simply been far too superstitious to ever consider changing it until the day it finally broke.

Now, Merritt smelled that same stink in the Imperial Palace, and she hadn't the foggiest idea why.

"Does anyone else smell that?" she asked.

"Yes, what is it?" Brand asked.

"Coal gas."

Dr. Nowston narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Hmm… Genneth once told me that the Imperial Palace was the first residence in the country to get electric lights back in 1814."

"Of course he would," Storn said.

"Why is that relevant?" Sir Geoffrey asked.

"Before that, they used gas lamps," Brand said.

"Coal gas," Merritt said.

"Yes," Brand replied. "It didn't smell all that great, but, as he told me, everyone just got used to it."

Nathan crossed his arms, thrumming his claws. "Maybe there's a leak somewhere?"

"All the gas is gone," Dr. Marteneiss said. "There's nothing left to leak."

That's when Merritt noticed a second detail: the room was positively frigid.

Karl turned to Ibrahim. "Dr. Rathpalla, is your sense telling you anything?"

Dr. Rathpalla slithered up to the base of the grand staircase and then turned and looked around.

But then Valentine blurted out before Ibrahim could say anything. "Everybody, come here!"

The young wyrm was over by the windows on the wall. He was holding one of the curtains open to peer outside.

Karl got there first, skimming across the room at a constant hover. Merritt waited her turn while the other wyrms rushed in, knocking heads as they competed to get a look.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Valentine slithered to the side and used his powers to draw the curtains all the way open.

Merritt's mane twitched as she stared. It was the streetlamps, of all things, that had caught her attention. Not only were they completely different, but… there was fire burning inside them. Actual fire.

Other details quickly came to light. The street was paved in setts, and there weren't any cars in sight.

Then a horse-drawn carriage clip-clopped into view, and continued on its merry way, clip-clopping into the night.

Merritt pulled her head back in shock.

She didn't know which was more impossible: a horse-drawn carriage in downtown Elpeck, or the idea that there was anyone still alive enough—horse included—to do such a preposterous thing.

"Guys…" Dr. Nowston said.

Turning, Merritt saw Brand coiled up beside another window, holding the curtains open with his powers. She slithered close enough to get a good view.

"Beast and Queen…" she muttered.

It was midday in Brand's window. Outside, banners displaying the Prelatory's flag—a half-blue, half-green coat of arms bearing a depiction of the Sword of the Angel, set against a blood red background—hung from every lamppost. Gasoline-guzzling cars crowded the asphalt paved street, coughing, rumbling, and roaring as they waited for the stoplight to change.

Merritt slithered over to an unoccupied window, as everyone else was doing. She pulled the curtains back with her claws, too frightened to care that they teared at her touch. She saw an early morning scene—setts again, not asphalt—with men and women in period dress carrying rifles and drums marching before Hilleman's blue and green banner.

Storn materialized beside his wife. He covered his mouth as he watched in shock. "What the hell is going on…?"

"I don't know," Merritt said, with a shake of her head.

All of a sudden, Dr. Marteneiss pointed at the doors. "Somebody open those beasteaten doors right now before I have a damn aneurysm!"

Brand was the closest. He waved it open with plexuses streaming from his claws.

In a reasonable world, the doors Dr. Nowston had opened would have led out onto the Civic Center's streets, where the hospital wyrms who'd chosen to stay outside the Imperial Palace were standing guard.

But it was not to be.

My world stopped being reasonable the morning I woke up dead, she thought.

The Imperial Palace's entrance opened onto an empty hallway, seemingly elsewhere within the Palace.

Dr. Marteneiss' eyes turned as wide as dinner plates. "Oh hell no!" She stepped back and shook her head. "Not this shit again."

"You've dealt with this before?" Dr. Rathpalla asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, back in the lobby of Ward E. Somethin' nasty was gettin' space and time's knickers in a twist. Whatever it is… it's at it again."

"You mean when I got spore'd and Dr. Howle did that thing with the mutant drake?" Jonan asked.

"I'm glad you remember," Heggy replied.

Jonan turned to Karl. "Be careful, kid. Something wicked is probably just around the corner." He pointed at the hallway. "Specifically, that corner."

Merritt prayed he was wrong.

Store's face was distressed beneath his gray. "At the risk of saying 'I told you so,' Merritt… well, I told you so." He gave one of his trademark sardonic smirk. "You did ask for this, honey."

She nodded. "I know. But, if Genneth could make it through this, then so can I." She turned to Heggy. "Dr. Marteneiss, how did you get out of it when this happened to Genneth and your group?"

"We just kept going until we got to the heart of the storm, but…" Heggy shook her head and then rubbed her eyes. "Aw, fuck…"

"What is it?" Dr. Nowston asked.

"I just remembered," she said. "Back when we'd put Genneth in time-out, he told me he'd done something to twist the space that brushed away all the weird shit."

"Can we do the same?" Yuth asked.

"I don't know." Heggy shook her head. "He said he used &alon's power to do it."

"And if by that, he meant channeling her power through his special connection with her," Yuth said, "then I don't think we've got much of a chance."

"About that…" Merritt said. "What's so special about Genneth's connection to her? Why him, of all people?"

Out of all the insanity the past two weeks had unleashed, my involvement had to be the biggest question mark of them all. Merritt had certainly spent plenty of time ruminating on it. It was like a piece from a completely different puzzle.

"I've wondered that myself," Brand said. "The way he can interact with &alon…" He looked around. "Have any of you tried contacting her?"

Merritt raised her hand. "I have. After everything that has happened, I tried to talk to her, if only to know what she was like, and what… well, what Genneth had to put up with."

"You did?" Dr. Rathpalla asked. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because she said only seven words to me: 'Wyrmehs, &alon is super busy. Talk later.'"

Dr. Derric chortled.

Merritt continued. "Meanwhile, I'm left with the knowledge that the sweet little girl with the blue eyes and hair was the very demon that came to me in the dream I had the night before I woke up with Nalfar's delusion." She shook her head. "I hope you can understand that I'm fond of talking about it."

"I should have expected as much," Brand said.

"Enough," Yuth said, with a flick of her head and claws. "This isn't about Genneth. It's about us." She turned to Heggy's spirit. "Is there anything we can do about our current predicament, Dr. Marteneiss?"

"It's like I told Mrs. Elbock," Heggy said, crossing her arms and shaking her head. "All we can do is march forward, and hope we don't get spat out where the Sun don't shine."

"That's good enough for me," Dr. Rathpalla said. He slithered up the grand staircase.

Karl followed directly behind him, trailing so close, he nearly slid into the psychiatrist's tail. The others followed along after them. Merritt grasped the balustrade in her claws as she slithered up the staircase, only to accidentally crush the marble in her grip.

At the top of the staircase, the hallway continued straight ahead, as well as branching to the left and right. It was as Merritt reached the landing—while Dr. Rathpalla was turning down onto the right branch of the hall—that a voice spoke from somewhere out of sight. It was a man's voice, and not a very nice one, at that.

"Look at these shoes, George-Donald! They're a mess! I can't speak to His Imperial Majesty with scuffed-up shoes!" The speaker's crassness loudly echoed down the hallway.

An elderly gentleman with a strong Northshead accent spoke in response. Again, Merritt couldn't see who, or where.

"Please be forgivin' me, Mr. Rousas. I didn't sleep well. Me back must be makin' a killin' off me."

"I don't care," Mr. Rousas replied, "and there's no time. Get on your knees and lick my shoes till they shine. I hope the taste teaches you where time clearly failed."

Merritt snorted, her head bobbing back in disbelief at the younger man's cruelty toward the elder. Her horns bashed into a marble pilaster, chipping off some of the stone.

She and Dr. Rathpalla slithered down the hallway, toward the source of the sound.

Yet there was no one there.

"Hello?" Merritt asked. She turned around. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

But there was no response.

Heggy shook her head. In dread, she pressed her hands against her cheeks, rubbing her fingertips over her closed eyes. "Oh fuck me," she said, with a croak. "Here we go again. Everythin's fallin' apart."

Karl looked this way and that, spines flexing in alarm. "What happened? What's going on? What do you know?"

"It's…" Dr. Marteneiss shook her head. "…well, it's a matter of time, I guess. When we were wanderin' around in Ward E's lobby, we stepped through a doorway that sent us into an antique ward that was being used as you would use it back in the day. I… I saw rifles there. Vestkiss, I believe, late 18th century make. Yet they looked brand new."

Karl recoiled in quiet awe. "You traveled through time, just like I did. Just like the Mewnee samurai."

Now Merritt was truly frightened. Much to her shame, she pushed her way through the wyrms in a fit of panic, pressing her flank against the wall as she slithered past them. But when she darted around the corner to where the grand staircase should have been, not only the stairs but the entire entrance hall were nowhere to be found. Instead, she was face to face with just more hallways and rooms.

Suddenly, fists pounded against a door. A man screamed. "Help! Help! In the Lass' name, help us!"

She heard voices and footsteps on marble. A gun cocked.

The wyrms slithered down the hallway, and around the corner.

A woman shrieked. "I am a godly woman! I am a wife! I am a mother!"

Yuth craned her neck this way and that, peering around corners. "Where's it coming from?"

"I don't know." Dr. Rathpalla trembled, rubbing the fingers on his left hand. "I…" His song lowered to a whisper. "It's everywhere. It's… everywhere."

Little Paul pointed a quivering claw. "What is that!?" he said, in a squeal of terror.

Merritt turned and—

—Her blood froze cold. She willed Storn's spirit into her mind, and wrapped him up tight.

A head was crawling down the hall. A fox's head.

Merritt screamed.

The fox-head skittered forward on many jointed crabs' legs. A revolting third eye blinking atop its snout. Its mangy flesh was marred by burning, prismatic sores, both on its thick, bristly ice-blue fur and on the naked patches where that fur had fallen away.

The creature was melting, just like Mr. Luxenderf and Dr. Rathpalla and the wyrm trees outside.

A human screamed. "Oh God!"

Speak of the Norm, Merritt thought.

Trails of phosphorescent darkness snaked around the corner of a side passage. They wriggled through the air like earthworms, twisting as they chased after the fleeing fox-head.

It happened so quickly.

The fox-head's third eye jostled in its socket, gaping at its pursuer. The poor creature turned around and skittered away as fast as it could, but the effort was too much for it.

One of its legs snapped off.

The head stumbled on the carpet and tumbled. More legs broke off, and then the lower half of the skull came loose, splitting apart at the jaw and then falling away. Dark liquid streamed off the pieces of the broken head.

The various chunks were melting where they lay. The trails of darkness dove into and merged with the puddle pooling around the dissolving horror, and the whole thing ignited in many-colored flames.

Everyone flew forward, racing down the hall. They bashed their horns into the ceiling, they hovered so high, terrified of touching the melting things.

Nathan let out a scream, pushed off the wall and ceiling with a thrash of his body and then bolted ahead. But then he slammed down on his psychic breaks, causing himself to coil and spool midair as he screeched to a silent halt.

That's when Merritt saw it. She'd never seen so much unspoiled human flesh. The sight made her lose hold of her levitation; she flopped onto the red carpet.

A horrid swarm of blood, bone, sinew, and more floated in the hallway, gathered into a loosely knit column of revolving blood-rings that dripped and flowed, in defiance of gravity. The thing had a fearful symmetry to it, as if mounted on a gruesome lathe. The rotations were slow and patient, like a carousel. Pieces of man and monster passed in a leisurely procession, along with fragments of life.

A beautiful pair of leather riding boots. Clothes fit for royalty. Limb purée.

The swirl steadily advanced toward the wyrms. Its revolutions brought into view the clusters of ice-blue fox-heads studding its underside. Their jaws were split open in silent howls, and dark rainbows flamed in their eyes.

Everyone scattered. Merritt saw Nathan turn away from the swarm and launch himself at the window at the far end of the hallway.

He lobbed a force-blast at the window with a scream. "I'm getting out of here!"

"Wait," Brand yelled, "you—"

—The instant Nathan's magic blasted a hole in the wall, the air screamed as suction grabbed Merritt, the other wyrms, and all the furniture and pulled them into a rapidly widening void.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.