Mists of Fate

Shapers War Chapter 10 Victory & Defeat

"Everything is wonderful Now" - Everclear

When he'd left the ship, J'Stan had focused on going to his son, Tyler. He was surprised when he appeared in the Great Hall of his own manor near the outback instead of the Shaper capital. What caused the spike of worry in him though was the fact that the Hall was full of people.

In over five thousand years of life, he'd never gotten used to the sight of people who had suddenly become refugees. Now the comfortable room where he'd held court for the last year was packed with people. Families from aged grandparents to newborn babes filled the room. A quick estimate put the number near twelve thousand, not even a fourth of the people from the surrounding villages.

Guards from the border crossing moved among the refugees, distributing food and water, providing medical attention as needed. Still, that haunted look filled their eyes, and J'Stan shuddered. He had a responsibility for these people, not just his son. He plastered a faint smile and a look of confidence on his face as he moved through the crowd towards the center of the room.

A faint mental brush confirmed D'vad had arrived in the Shaper capital and was seeing to matters there. As J'Stan moved through the crowd here, he could see the looks on people's faces changed when they saw him. The hubbub of noise from thousands of people changed into a murmur as his name was repeated throughout the crowd.

"Lord Justin! Thank the Lords, we're saved!"

"See, there's the Lord Justin, he'll fix things. No more need for crying."

Those and many more comments made their way to his ears. Around him people reached out to touch him. Quick thoughts from him wiped weariness from them, healed some of the injuries they'd suffered so far. The feelings in the room shifted from worry, pain, and tension to something more promising. With so many people in such tight quarters, the changes in emotions were palpable to him, and to the other gifted who stood in the middle of the room.

As people cleared a path for him, he reached the middle of the room and the people there a lot faster. A golden blur rushed down the path that had been cleared when he got close. J'Stan braced himself and welcomed his son into his arms. Between the relaxing of the people in the crowded room, and having his son in his room, J'Stan himself relaxed quite a bit as he entered the small circle of gifted in the middle of the room.

"Belson, what the hell's going on?" J'Stan asked the Lord who had been a good friend over the last year.

"You tell me, Justin," Belson gasped. He was relaxing a little, but his face still held a sheen of sweat as he stared up through the skylight. J'Stan followed the man's gaze to look at a blue-gray mist being held back by a milky-white barrier. He lowered his gaze and took in the slight forms of Barstie and Jasin. A chuckle rose in him as he realized the two must have come into their powers during the crisis.

"Too much to explain verbally. Open up to link with me," J'Stan told the man, not sure of what the reaction would be to the news he brought. He felt Belson opening his mind and sent the memories of the last few hours through, full and unedited. He could feel Barstie and Jasin in the link, receiving the memories as well. All three of them turned a ghostly white, and a quick glance upwards showed the barrier being beaten downward. Strength flowed from J'Stan into the link, strengthening the barrier while the three were somewhat distracted.

"You're not going to kill us?" Belson said, voice quaking.

"Did you do anything that I think would deserve it?" J'Stan asked quietly.

"I didn't reveal the deception to you..." Belson said softly.

"Irrelevant. Those directly responsible have been punished. For now I just want to save as many people as we can, seal the mists off again, and then worry about what we're going to do," J'Stan told him.

"Fine. As senior Lord of the Council, I recognize your authority and leadership in this crisis, J'Stan of Ackeland. Will you help us, please?"

"Of course, friend. Tell me how widespread the mist is," J'Stan told the man, removing himself from the link as the three of them refocused enough of their strength to support it.

"Very. Nearly all the lands in the Southern Alliance have been affected. Early word was that the Shapers' Republic is being hit hard too. No word on Ackeland," Belson said. It seemed that with the change in emotions from the crowd, holding the barrier up was proving to be easier.

"How is that possible? I only know of 3 rifts created by people. I thought time travel was banned by everyone, so no more would be created."

"Officially it was, unofficially, well, you're from the old world. How many governments in the old world played with massive weapons, worried that someone else would be?" Belson asked.

"Too many, and now it's coming home to roost," J'Stan said with a sigh. "How long do you think you can hold this?"

"We were about to break before you showed up. Now, it seems easier for some reason."

"The people," Barstie said, his voice distracted. He was still brand new to this, what they were doing required most of his concentration.

"They changed their attitude, it helps. I think two of us can do it now," Jasin added.

"Try it," J'Stan ordered. He felt Belson pull out of the link. For a moment the shield wavered, but the two former pages steadied it quickly. J'Stan let them feel his approval before turning to Belson.

"What about the capital? The Palace?" J'Stan asked.

"Gone. We barely got out of there in time with the Palace staff and some of the people from the city. I knew that there was only one hole here, but more by the capital. I figured that we could make a better stand here," Belson said, sitting on the stone floor and resting from the strain of the last few hours.

"What about the rest of the Lords from the fleet?" was J'Stan's next question.

"I sent them in teams of two to cover most of the outlying areas," Belson explained. "Try to protect as many of the cities as we can."

"Good defensive thinking, but not enough. It may take a while to repair all the holes that have been torn open. We need to consolidate as much as possible. I want you to go to the closest area where you sent the other Lords. Teleport all the people they've saved here. When they are safe here, those Lords will join here and take turns keeping the barrier up," J'Stan said, a plan starting to gel in his head.

"So that way we can rotate, people won't get tired," Belson said, nodding.

"We can also have more people in the link, make the shield bigger, hold more people," J'Stan said. "I'll back the young men up while you're gone. At least until we get more gifted here. I'll also get Kel started on getting things ready to hold more people."

"Agreed, then. I'll get started. Should I contact you before transporting people? Where should we put `em?" Belson asked.

"How many do you think you can handle at one time?"

"Not more than a thousand or so," Belson answered.

"I'll have Kel cordon off the south end of the hall. Contact me before the first batch get sent, and I'll send you the image as it's set up."

"Will do," Belson said as he winked out.

J'Stan turned to Kel, who'd followed him into the center of the room. Mentally, he told Barstie and Jasin to yell if they ran into trouble. He took his chief assistant by the arm and started giving instructions. He barely noticed the weight of the young boy he held in his left arm, who was now looking around the room with a big smile, hand resting on J'Stan's neck.

"Move these people throughout the manor. Pitch any furniture not absolutely necessary. Have the kitchen staff start preparing food, basic stuff. Anyone gets hungry, they get food to eat. Belson is going to be bringing in more Lords, and more people. We need to fit as many as possible in here. Rope off the south end of the hall for new arrivals. Also make sure kitchen staff keep one of each type of food stock. Don't let them use the last of anything. It's easier for us to replicate something if we have a sample in our hands. Otherwise we'll run out of food fast."

"What about the injured and sick?" Kel asked, his head nodding and eidetic memory guaranteeing that J'Stan's instructions were being recorded.

"I'll start healing them now. When we get more gifted here, we'll assign some of them to treat the injured."

"Aye, m'lord," Kel said and the man took off, motioning to staff and guards to converge on him. J'Stan ascended the dais, one of the few clear spots in the room. Moments later, he could see the people in the room shifting a little as the guards started clearing the south end of the hall.

"People, may I have your attention, please," J'Stan said into the crowd. His voice boomed, enhanced, so that everyone, no matter where they were in the manor, could hear him. Instantly a silence descended on the room, only the ragged sounds of breathing audible.

"Thank you. I am sorry that we have found ourselves in the position we are at the moment. If it was possible to change the outcome of the recent battles, I would. Unfortunately, the mist you see outside is the result of the gifted trying to change the past. I will not further risk our planet by adding to it."

"What is it, m'lord?" a voice hollered.

"The mist? I don't know. It is deadly, consuming everything organic, alive, that it touches. It hungers for consuming life. Only the gifted can hold it back, and only the strongest of us can close the holes through which it enters our world."

"Who set them off?" another voice shouted

"That doesn't matter now. The person who did it is dead," J'Stan said, praying that they'd let it drop.

"For now, we need to focus on our survival," J'Stan continued quickly. "The gifted can do it, but we need your help. We are going to consolidate all the survivors from across the Alliance here. That way it takes fewer of the gifted to keep up the shields. Those gifted that aren't needed to keep you safe here will either be assigned to helping the injured or palace staff or will be assigned to work with me."

"What will you be doing, m'lord?" another voice asked.

"Closing the holes that allow the mist into our world." J'Stan told them, his voice firm.

"What can we do?" the first voice asked.

"Several things. Help the palace staff and guards. If they ask you to go somewhere, follow them. Keep your families together. If someone is hurt, make sure staff or guards know. Above all, keep your confidence up. Believe it or not, your faith in us helps."

"Aye! We have faith in ya!" a particularly gnarled looking older man shouted from near the front. "If you say you're gonna do it, Lord Justin, we have faith in ya."

"I'm glad to hear that, Jasper," J'Stan laughed, recognizing the man. "Young Barstie and Jasin over there served me back at the palace and are doing a great job keeping us safe here right now. If they can do it by themselves, with all of you being supportive and confident in them, then we'll be fine while I work on fixing things. I see Kel standing over there, ready to move some of you to other parts of the palace. Remember, stay calm, have confidence. We'll fix things for you. You have my word on that."

Cheers filled the room, much to his amazement. Public speaking was never J'Stan's strong point, but the feelings of confidence from the crowd buoyed him. Strange, in five thousand years he'd never quite been in this type of situation before, and he was now learning something new about their gifts. It seemed that a crowd of people could affect the abilities of the gifted to some extent.

He shook off that train of thought as Tyler took that moment to put his hand right into J'Stan's mouth. J'Stan smiled, pretending to eat his son's hands while he sat down on the chair that occupied the middle of the dais. The next few minutes passed in quiet happiness for him, the pain of the last hours, the enormity of the task ahead disappeared while he played with his son in a few moments of pure innocence. He barely noticed the smiles of those people near the dais, and the way that parents would reach towards their own kids as they saw him playing with Tyler.

He was noticing that the murmur of worry and pain was slowly being leached from the room, replaced with the laughter of children. He also noticed platters of food making their way around the room and some order being established as people were led out in groups of families. He also noticed Tyler's governess had made her way to the stage just as Belson made mental contact from wherever he was. J'Stan sent an image of the now-cleared southern half of the Hall.

Moments later, over a thousand people appeared in the cordoned area. Belson stood at the back of the group and waited until the guards had led all the people out of the staging area. He mentally informed J'Stan that the Lords at this site had not been as successful in getting people gathered together. There would only be a few more trips. J'Stan acknowledged the message and gave Kel some attention as the man had set up an infirmary and was asking for his help in getting some people healed. Tyler went to play with his nurse for a bit while J'Stan saw to that task.

Nearly half a day later, J'Stan sat in his chair on the dais, a sleeping Tyler in his lap. The Hall was crowded again, as was every last nook and cranny of the manor house. The influx of more Lords had allowed the barrier to be pushed back further, revealing the remains of outlying buildings. Everything organic had been consumed, but Lords working together had prepared the newly reclaimed buildings for incoming refugees.

Kel had more than proved his worth over the past day. The man had organized, with no preparation, a massive relief and relocation effort for thousands of refugees. The latest estimate was eighty thousand people. Everyone was crammed together, but an upbeat mood seemed to be holding, at least in the Great Hall.

Surrounding J'Stan were the Lords who had survived. Most of them had not. There were barely thirty people sharing the dais with him. Of the thirty, four now held the barrier against the mists. All of them had linked with J'Stan, long enough to learn of events, and the breaking of the block that had been placed on him.

"So are we all agreed? If you dissent, speak up now," Belson finished the discussion. A murmur of approbation filtered through the Lords standing on the dais. A barrier prevented their words from filtering to the crowd below the dais, but did not prevent the people from seeing them.

"Hearing no dissent, it is official," Belson said after a moment, letting the sound barrier dissipate, voice ringing throughout the chamber and he turned to face J'Stan who was still sitting in the chair. People throughout the Hall jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice.

"The Council of Lords does hereby acknowledge J'Stan, also known as Justin Ackeman, as High Lord. To him do we pledge our allegiance," Belson continued in a ringing tone. Simultaneously, all the surviving Lords went to one knee in homage.

J'Stan rose from his chair, lifting Tyler to his shoulder as he did. His free hand motioned the Lords to rise as he scanned the crowd of people. His name had caused confusion among the people, and he felt it needed dealing with immediately.

"The past is the past. Much of what you were told about J'Stan, about me, was wrong. Although I was virtually a prisoner of some members of the Council for the past year, I have come to love this land, and you people, as much as any I have ever known. Over the next few days we will be working to seal the holes opened by the recent conflicts.

"Until we have done so, it is not safe outside the protection being drawn by members of the Lords Council. A team of four Lords shall be on duty around the clock to assist you and make you as comfortable as we possibly can. Please, support them in their efforts."

As he finished, old Jasper made his way to the foot of the dais and bowed low to J'Stan. A nod from J'Stan encouraged him to walk up the short flight of steps until he stood even with him. A thought from J'Stan made the man's voice carry over the entire Hall.

"M'lord," Jasper began, jumping a little at hearing his voice boom over the crowd. "I be speaking for most of the people who lived here before the mists came. We know you, sir. One of us overhead the Lords talking to that Shaper fella when you first got here. We knew then who you really were. Since then, you've done nothing but right by us. We'll follow you anywhere."

"Thank you for those words, Jasper. They mean a lot to me," J'Stan told the man, clasping his arm in the current form of a handshake. "Now, I and ten other Lords are going to meet with our allies in the Shapers' Republic. From there we will coordinate the closings of the holes. Twenty Lords will remain here, making sure you are all protected. If more help is needed, they will always be able to get a hold of me.

"I beg of you, while we are away working, support those Lords who remain. They will need your support. Kel, my chief assistant, will see to your needs and all will do their best to end this as soon as possible. Stay calm, stay alert, and have faith." As he finished, J'Stan gave a silent mental signal and disappeared with his ten selected Lords.

Funny how, thousands of years later, the pad for teleporting was the exact same as he remembered it. The courtyard was a different matter. Like his Great Hall, it was packed with people, refugees from the city outside the gates, yet it somehow seemed bigger than before. A quick count left him thinking that almost ten thousand people could fit in here, and the platform was now a catapult's throw away from the main doors of the Shapers' castle.

Above them, a golden dome shimmered, holding back what he knew would be the same mists outside. On the wall of the castle in front of them, eight Shapers stood, obviously the holders of the golden shield. J'Stan led his group through the crowd and up the steps to the main entrance of the castle. The guard at the door waved them through immediately.

The entrance hall was different than he remembered, larger, more open. To his surprise, there were several hundred people inside, all appearing to be praying. A servant in livery waved at them and J'Stan followed the man down a side passage. Several turns and passageways later, he was let into a conference room.

D'vad rose from his place at the head of the table and greeted J'Stan with a hug. J'Stan's party were motioned to take seats at the table, where about six other Shapers were still sitting. D'vad escorted J'Stan to the head of the table, where two seats were waiting for them.

"I've already informed the Shapers' Council of the recent, ah, changes. How is the Southern Alliance holding up?" D'vad said when they were all seated.

"Not well," J'Stan said heavily. "The mists struck us hard. We've got about eighty thousand survivors, thirty gifted. I've brought a third of our surviving gifted with me. Everyone else has been transported to my manor house. Easier to defend one location."

"Is that all?" a shocked Shaper down the table whispered.

"Yes, that's all," J'Stan stated flatly. "Out of nearly sixty million, less than a hundred thousand survive. What about you?"

"A little better off, but then we've always had more gifted," the same Shaper said.

"We've got about eight hundred thousand survivors scattered over twenty locations. Teams of six Shapers are defending each one," D'vad explained in more detail. "Of course, that is out of several hundred million people. There are also about 200 Shapers total surviving. We lost a lot in the battle, and even more to surprise when the mist appeared."

"So, how many can you spare to seal the holes?" J'Stan asked.

"Forty," D'vad said firmly.

"How many people do you think it will take per hole?" J'Stan mused.

"At least ten. The last one we sealed a century ago took eight of us. Each time it seemed to take more and more," the same Shaper said.

"Well, that gives us five teams. How many holes do we have to seal?"

"Last count between Shaper and Southern Alliance had thirty-three of them," D'vad said slowly.

"What about Ackeland?"

"Only two that we know of," D'vad said, a slight grin on his face.

"Why don't we try to get their help, then?" J'Stan asked quietly.

"We don't need their stinking help!" the same Shaper snarled, slapping the table.

"What is your name?" J'Stan asked coldly.

"K'fel," the man replied.

"K'fel, they are just as much in danger as we are. If they can help us, it brings us closer together, improves our chance at succeeding, and maybe can help end this pointless bickering that led to it happening in the first place. What good will not asking for help do?"

"You're just saying that because you are one of them and want to undermine everything..."

"No!" J'Stan shouted, interrupting the man. "I haven't been a Guardian for over five thousand years, and do not even know any of them. The one I did know left Earth over a year ago. I am the High Lord of the Southern Alliance. Do not mistake that again."

"Still, what good can they do?" K'fel muttered.

"I seem to remember them doing pretty damn good against us during the recent fighting. They are strong, well trained, and capable of providing good assistance. You telling me that would not be a help?" J'Stan said angrily.

"If you insist, but who's going to contact them?" K'fel gave in.

"I will. D'vad, why don't you pick out the teams while I'm gone, make sure they are all familiar with how to seal the rift," J'Stan asked his old friend, then added on a private mental level, `Make sure the teams are mixed, no all-Shaper or all-Lord teams. Leave room for Guardians, too. We need to get them used to working together.'

`You mean to change things even more while saving the world, eh?' D'vad responded the same way, his mind voice full of irony.

`Change is the only constant,' J'Stan quoted as he disappeared.

He realized just how true those words were when he reappeared in what was left of New Phoenix. Intellectually, he had known that the city had been razed to the ground thousands of years ago, then rebuilt. What he saw, though, bore little resemblance to the New Phoenix he remembered fondly.

It was also a good thing he always kept his defenses up, too. A splash of energy hit him in the back as he stared at the concrete buildings surrounding him, and the reddish dome that had been erected, sometimes through parts of the buildings. He turned to the source of the splash and realized the poor kid was probably just reacting to seeing someone appear in the green and brown of the Lords Council.

"Calm down, boy," J'Stan told the young man who was attacking him. The boy looked exhausted, great circles under his eyes, and the white and brown uniform he wore was tattered.

"Who are you?" the boy shouted.

"J'Stan," was the simple answer, and J'Stan chose that moment to change his clothing into the brown and white uniform he'd worn thousands of years.

"But, but..." the boy started to stutter. J'Stan walked towards him, put his arm around the boy's shoulder, and started moving him towards the large building nearby.

"Why don't you take me to whoever is in charge?" J'Stan murmured softly. The boy just nodded and pointed towards the building they were already headed for. The streets here were also packed with people who made room for the two men, but not nearly as packed as either the Shaper or Alliance havens. That worried J'Stan, worried him a lot.

The boy was sobbing quietly into J'Stan's shoulder as they walked now. It seemed his first impression was right, the kid was no older than Barstie or Jasin, and the experiences of the last few days must have been overwhelming for him. As they reached the largish gray building, J'Stan mentally urged the boy into sleep and handed him to one of the two Guardians standing at the entrance.

Neither of the two Guardians recognized him, and he surely didn't recognize them. Although the one took the boy, they both were on guard and challenged him immediately.

"I am J'Stan," he answered their challenge simply.

"Prepare to die, traitor!" the one who was unencumbered shouted, going into a fighting stance.

"Enough of that," J'Stan snapped, irritated. A wave of his hand slammed the Guardian into the wall, cracking it. The unconscious Guardian slid down to land in a heap. J'Stan turned towards the other. "I'm not here to fight, or to debate issues right now. I'm here to talk. Who's in charge here?"

"He's inside, sir," the lone Guardian said, putting his burden down to check on his fallen colleague.

"He should wake up in a moment. Make sure he keeps his opinions to himself till I'm ready to leave. If he still wants to fight then, I'll scatter his atoms across the stars for him."

"And if he doesn't want to fight?" the Guardian asked.

"Then there's no fight," J'Stan said as he entered the doorway. The hallway was lit by torches, giving the building a primitive feel. He followed the hallway until he came to a largish room that was filled with fifteen men sitting around another table.

"You're getting soft in your old age," a man who had his back to J'Stan said. The voice was familiar and he placed it after a moment's thought.

"B'rel!" J'Stan shouted with happiness. The man turned and smiled at J'Stan. The smile was strained, but still there. J'Stan rushed across the intervening space and embraced his friend. He could feel the distrust rolling off of B'rel, and knew he'd have to do something about that.

So he lowered his barriers to B'rel completely, let his old friend in his mind to read what he would of recent events. B'rel saw this happening and reached out with his own mind, sharing what he'd been doing since they last parted on a mountainside over a year ago.

B'rel had said he was going to explore the universe, but hadn't made it past Jupiter. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he'd stopped in the orbit of Europa. It was as he'd remembered it...almost. The blue-gray swirling mist had seemed less...intense, but more hungry.

He was studying that mist, and the holes they poured out of for a while. He was on the verge of understanding something important when the mists started swarming. In moments it was obvious the mists were shrinking, disappearing. The pattern of flows indicated they were being pulled back into the holes, going somewhere awful fast. He could almost feel something like glee emanating from it...anticipation of a feast.

Horror had filled B'rel as he realized where the mists might be going. He turned and headed home, past the wreck of the Trepidation, moving as fast as he could. He made the trip faster than he thought possible, but still not soon enough.

Over half of Ackeland had been devoured already, and many Guardians lost early in the struggle. He'd taken command easily, the Guardians were in such disarray at that point they would have listened to almost any voice that sounded confident. By the time a coordinated defense had been arranged, most of Ackeland was dead. New Phoenix housed all the survivors, a few hundred thousand people and seventy Guardians.

They both finished reviewing each other's memories at the same time. The look of horror on B'rel's face told his impression of recent events. J'Stan looked around him as the names of the men in the room filled his mind from B'rel's memories.

"I shouldn't have left you two," B'rel whispered. "This is all my fault. You both were too soon out of the aegis to think properly. I'm sorry."

"Don't blame yourself for our actions, or the actions of other people," J'Stan said. "Instead let's set things as right as we can."

"Agreed on the last part, at least," B'rel said with a slight chuckle. He always did like disagreeing with his one-time teacher.

"Ok, how many Guardians do you think are needed to hold New Phoenix?" J'Stan asked him.

"At least forty total," B'rel said. "Ten on the shield at one time, and more to help keep the people calm."

"That many?" J'Stan said aloud. "The Shapers seem to be able to do a better job with less people."

"They have people worshipping them," S'teras, one of the senior Guardians here said.

"I know," J'Stan said, sighing a little. It looked like he was about to lose an argument he had felt very strongly about for a long time.

"The people of Ackeland don't worship us," F'nol, another Guardian, said.

"As well they shouldn't!" B'rel said heatedly, looking to J'Stan, waiting for the outrage he expected. They'd always been on the same side in this issue.

"B'rel, times change," J'Stan said softly, head hanging low. "There's something about the people having faith in us, even worshipping us, that makes us stronger. Look at the memories I just shared with you. The difference made at my manor, the strength flowing into the Shapers from the people inside their castle praying to them. I don't like it, but it's useful...and necessary now. We need every hand possible to shut the holes that are letting the mists in."

"Just how do you plan to get the people of Ackeland to bend heads to Guardians?" B'rel asked sharply. "We haven't exactly encouraged blind faith in leaders in this society."

"How else does one start something like this?" J'Stan said. "The miraculous return of an icon. Guess I'll have to do it. Promise me this, gentlemen. When the mists are sealed back up, the worship will end. It may be necessary now, but I'm not going to see us worshipped like gods for all eternity."

"As you order, we will follow," every Guardian in the room, except B'rel, said as one. J'Stan didn't know if he liked that or not. Nevertheless, he needed more gifted if his plan to seal the rifts was going to work, and he needed the participation of Guardians in this if the successful unification of the world was to happen afterwards.

Outside, the reddish dome was flickering as the mists outside added more pressure, trying to get through to the people below. Many of the people who had survived so far were looking up at the great dome, wondering how long the Guardians would be able to keep it up, and what was to happen now. Despair was growing more and more palpable each passing hour.

It was those people who were looking up that first saw the great, shining figure appear over the concrete spire of the Guardians' Tower. Easily five times the size of a normal man, the mannish figure was dressed in the ancient style of a Guardian's uniform. Short blond hair framed a handsome face, and piercing blue eyes shone as he looked down at the people crowding the streets of the protected part of the city.

"People of Ackeland, I have returned!" J'Stan's voice boomed over them. Those who didn't see him appear now stared up into the sky at him. Voices bubbled out of the streets, exclaiming shock, and hope. They'd been told that while Adam Morgan had returned, J'Stan had been lost. This figure could only be J'Stan!

"The Mists of Fate have been unleashed on us by those who would rather see us perish than live free. Those who unleashed the Mists upon us are now dead, but their handiwork remains. I have met with the leadership of the Southern Alliance and the Shapers' Republic. By ourselves, none of us have the strength to undo the damage caused by the Mists, to seal them back up. Only by focusing the abilities of Guardians, Shapers, and Lords together can our planet be saved."

"But we need your help. We need your...faith, your support, your prayers. We have been gifted with the ability to save this planet, but we cannot do it alone. We need your help." A mental nudge of the right person, an amplification of their voice.

"But how, great one?" a voice from among the crowd called out, heard by all. "How do we do this?"

"See these Guardians?" J'Stan said, pointing with a hand towards a team of five Guardians standing below him. "They are holding this shield above me, protecting us from the Mists. Think of them, have confidence in them, send them your thoughts of support. Obey any command they give. That is enough."

He could feel the change in the attitude of the crowd, and let his form disappear with a flash. He didn't like what he'd just done, but it was necessary. Now he could take an additional twenty gifted with him. He needed them, all of them.

"Mists of Fate?" B'rel asked him when he reappeared in the conference room.

"It sounded suitably ominous, don't you think?" J'Stan said, laughing a little to try diffusing some of the tension he felt.

"You always had a flair for the dramatic," B'rel responded. "Now, I've got the people ready, sixty of us go with you. Give the word."

"Mister B'rel, the word is given," J'Stan laughed a little, the words bringing back memories of a happier time, a starship pulling out of orbit long ago. Instead though, he focused his mind on the transport pad of the Shaper castle and led his sixty Guardians there to join the others.

"So, we got another twenty Shapers." D'vad told J'Stan a few hours later. J'Stan was once more back in the robe of a Lord, the golden coronet of High Lord on his head. D'vad led the Shapers, B'rel the Guardians, so he took the Lords.

The three men sat in a small office high in the central tower of the Shapers' castle. Huge bay windows had once looked over mountain spires and distant ocean waters. Now nothing but a golden shield could be seen, holding the mists back.

"That lets us get at 13 holes at one time." J'Stan thought aloud. "These projections you gave me show thirty holes. Ok, each team seals two of `em, and we release all but four to go after the last group. Sound good?"

"Yes." Both D'vad and B'rel said at the same time. They'd all be leading separate teams, so were coordinating strategy now. The next few minutes were spent selecting the targets for each team and deciding which four would handle the last few once the others were done.

"So, we ready?" J'Stan asked his two old friends.

"Yup, time to save the world again," D'vad said with a wry grin on his face.

"Is it always like this?" B'rel asked with a half grin. "I've been a part of a few `end-of-the-world' situations, but this is my first full-bore apocalypse."

"Let's see, it's our third when you boil it down. The Event where we became what we are today, the cataclysm from J'Stan here and Bjorn fighting, and now this. Maybe this time we'll be able to rebuild the world a little better," D'vad said.

"I've been thinking about that," J'Stan said, a little uneasily. "When this is over, we need to set things up so that we remove as many of the reasons for war as we can. We've got a chance here to do it. With all three of us in leadership roles over the three different ruling groups, we can combine them. There's not going to be much left, and we can probably convince everyone of the need to combine our resources."

"Sounds like what Bjorn tried to do," D'vad said cautiously, eyeing his old friend closely.

"One major difference, I'm not trying to rule the world. The gifted can't be in charge, we need to let the people rule themselves, and have the gifted act in some type of supporting role."

"Most of these kids won't accept that," B'rel warned.

"We just got to think of a way to sell them on it," J'Stan said shortly.

"And what will you do?" D'vad asked, his eyes intent on J'Stan's.

"Same thing you will, join my love," J'Stan answered quietly.

"No!" B'rel said sharply. "We need you both."

"Now, yes. After the holes are sealed, it'll be better if we leave. Don't worry, we won't go immediately, just after a century or so. I seem to remember that less than a year ago you felt the same, B'rel," J'Stan told his old student.

"A century, huh? After Tyler's gone?" D'vad asked hoarsely.

"Yeah, after he's grown and gone," J'Stan said, not wanting to think about that day. "Let's go."

Minutes later, the three of them stood before a hundred and thirty of their fellow gifted. They had been formed up into their teams, with the various team leaders standing in front. J'Stan and his two friends would actually be leading full teams, becoming eleventh members of each. Since those three teams would have an extra person, they were assigned the most difficult targets to seal. Nervousness filled the air as J'Stan looked at the collection of men, and two women, in Shaper blue, Lord browns & greens, and Guardian browns.

"We have a difficult task ahead of us, my friends," he told them, extemporizing a speech for the occasion. "Difficult, but not impossible. Yesterday many of us faced each other as enemies. Today we will work side by side to overcome something that threatens all of us. Work hard, work steady in the hours to come, and realize the potential we have when we work together instead of against each other. I am confident in your abilities, and look forward to seeing all of you when we are done."

No wild cheers met his speech, but some nodding heads and grim smiles made him feel a little more comfortable. He separated from D'vad and B'rel to meet the team he would be leading. The Shaper who was senior of the team members bowed his head to J'Stan.

"We are ready to serve, m'lord," the Shaper, S'ton, nearly chanted.

J'Stan looked at him for a moment, suppressing the biting comment that popped into his head. The lad was probably a little bit scared. Hellfires, he was scared himself. Ok, just a little. More like stage fright than actual fear.

"We'll need to be linked, working as a team," J'Stan told the ten people looking at him. His group had one of the two female Shapers in it. Oddly, she reminded him a little of his dead daughter, Erika.

"Not, not permanently?" one of the Guardians stuttered. Four Guardians, four Shapers, and two Lords comprised this team.

"Of course not permanently," J'Stan said, keeping from sneering by a hair. "Open yourself up, and stand ready for my touch."

He could tell as they complied, and he drew each of them into a light linking. It was very similar to bonding, but on a lighter level, without the permanent attachments. While linked, they could feel each other's feelings, see some memories, and hear each other's thoughts. It also made their combined will stronger.

Once he had all ten of them linked to him, he spun six of them off into a secondary link, giving Marsha (the female Shaper), control of that sub-group. She was the best of the group when it came to shielding. A fortunate side effect of the link was that he knew them on a very intimate level through it, and they knew his reasons for his actions.

The sub-group broke off from the main link, but were still attached to him through Marsha. He could feel them, with Marsha acting like a filter in both directions. Skillfully, she led her sub-group in forming a shielded location for J'Stan's group to teleport to. Through her, he could `see' the shield forming, and knew when it was safe to jump.

He teleported into the shielded area, not forgetting to bring the four members of his team with him. Marsha brought her group in a moment later, and he was immediately glad she did. The silver-golden light of her shield started flaring as soon as the first of them appeared. Beyond it, the mists had somehow sensed their arrival and were struggling against the barrier.

Through the link with Marsha, J'Stan could feel her group struggling to hold onto the shield. It was not going well. This hole they stood near was the first one, the one through which more of the mist was flowing than any other. It was the one he had first made, to save his first loves. In moments, it became apparent that Marsha was not going to be able to hold the shield, much less perform the intricate maneuver required to get closer to the hole.

The others, through the link, grew agitated as all of this ran through J'Stan's mind. He clamped down before they could panic, and spun off one of the Guardians to Marsha's group. With the addition of N'than, Marsha seemed to steady the shield against the agitated onslaught. Moments later, her face covered with sweat, she gave J'Stan the mental nod that she was ready.

With J'Stan in the lead, and the rest of his group and Marsha's sub-group following tightly together, they moved towards the hole. In J'Stan's mind, he could feel the mists growing stronger in their assault on the shield, and the flow coming out of the hole. After a few moments, they reached the edge of the hole, and Marsha began the next phase.

The silver-golden shield rippled inward a little where it brushed the edge of the hole. J'Stan could feel Marsha warp the shield so that the mists, still flowing through the hole, were diverted up and away, while the hole itself was allowed inside the shield. Now it was J'Stan's turn.

Combining his will with the three others linked to him, he took up the mental needle and thread he had used to seal this hole before. Mentally set, he grabbed a hold of the edges and set the needle and thread. With a loud grunt, he `pushed' against the hole, trying to seal it.

Every time he'd done this in the past, there had been some resistance. He had even come close to failing, and on Europa had failed without the help he had now. Nothing prepared him for what happened this time though.

A mental scream tore through them all, coming from the hole! Half the people in the link collapsed to their knees, uselessly clasping hands over their ears. At the same time, the shield diverting the flow of mist from the hole bulged inwards. Before J'Stan could do more than look at the bulging shield, a tendril of mist broke through, shattering droplets of the silver-golden shield over the group.

Whipping like a snake, a tendril of blue-gray mist shot through the hole, and focused on Marsha. A blast of power from J'Stan dissolved the mist before it could reach her. She turned her head towards J'Stan and smiled her thanks, just as another tendril shot through.

This time it dodged J'Stan's blast of power and struck through Marsha's back. The smile was still on her face as her eyes widened in shock, and the link nearly shattered as she was ripped from it. Her body slid to the ground as J'Stan blasted the tendril into oblivion and the link stabilized as he reintegrated her group into the main group. Moments later the stability of the link was further shattered when more holes pierced through the shield.

J'Stan focused his attention on rebuilding the shield. The weak points were buttressed before any more tendrils made it through. The group he led clustered around him, fear on their faces resonating through the bond. His confidence focused and spread through the link, calming his group.

Holding the shield now, J'Stan could feel the Mist outside. It was not the same anymore, it was almost alive, hungering for his flesh. He could almost taste the malevolence, the hatred, the hunger of it. There was also something more there, something more...

The blow that shattered his shield came directly through the hole, and was so strong that he was blown back into the group of men. He pushed forward, off of them, and focused his attention on the portion of the shield in front of the hole. His hands were thrust out as he poured power into reinforcing the shield.

It held.

But while his attention was focused ahead, he missed the small hole made behind him. Through that hole a small tendril made its way inside the shield and focused on him. J'Stan's first clue was a cry of alarm from behind. He spun around in time to see the tendril of Mist reach out towards him.

Pain! Pain rocked through J'Stan as the tendril hit him. For the first time in thousands of years, physical pain struck him. He could feel the tendril of mist eating at him. Not just his physical form, but at his essence, whatever intangible thing it was that made him alive. His soul shrieked as it felt the cold fingers of death touching it at last.

It was that feeling of imminent death which rallied J'Stan's last defenses. Deep within a part of him that refused death, was scared of death, clawed back against the cold attacker, pushing it back. His vision cleared, and he found himself floating in that familiar void.

A faint shimmering of blue-gray light played out in front of him, as he floated in the void. It coalesced into a form that made his heart catch in his throat. Adam stood there, the fifteen year old raven-haired youth he first met after his fight with Bjorn had nearly destroyed humanity the first time. That gentle smile of his lit his young face up as J'Stan floated there, heart pounding and tears flowing from his eyes.

"My love," Adam's gentle voice wafted through him. The figure raised his hand, outstretched for J'Stan. "It's time. We're waiting for you. Come to us."

Behind Adam appeared two more forms. Short blond hair capped the beautiful faces of Jason and Curtis. They were wearing the cammie pants and green t-shirts he remembered so well. They too were smiling, now standing on either side of Adam, arms outstretched to him. It was too much.

Pain, misery, tiredness all washed through him. A groan escaped him as he took that fateful first step towards the three loves of his life. It was time, he was just too damn tired of it all. Just as he closed the gap, and his hands were about to touch theirs, a golden blur thrust itself between them, and small arms wrapped themselves around a startled J'Stan's neck.

"You promised!" Tyler's young voice echoed through the void, pain and abandonment ringing loudly. "You promised to stay. You said you not leave me!"

"I know, love. I know. I'm not going anywhere," J'Stan said to his son. He caressed the boy's hair, staring at the beckoning faces of his lost loves. Without thinking, he stepped back, away from the past.

Rage filled all three faces the moment he did. Their forms wavered and turned into the blue-gray mist he knew all too well. The tendrils of mist roared as they reached out towards him, him and Tyler. Rage flowed from him, obliterating the tendrils and the mist floating where his three loves had appeared. The void shattered at his shout of pure anger.

His surroundings returned and he found himself back where he had been. Tyler was still in his arms, whimpering in fear. The tendril of mist that had reached him floated to the ground as ash. It only took a moment to realize that the shield was still failing, and the link was gone. He broadcast a command to the group with him and they all disappeared simultaneously.

Once the hall would have been crowded if all the gifted on Earth had stood in it. Now the great table that Shapers had met around for thousands of years was nearly empty. Less than eighty men sat there now, and J'Stan was at the head, with D'vad and B'rel next to him. Tyler sat in J'Stan's lap, quietly playing with his father's hand.

The last few days had been hectic. Upon his return to the Shaper castle, J'Stan had learned that the failure of his team was actually the least devastating. Half of the teams they had sent out did not return. Only D'vad's and B'rel's teams had suffered less than half casualties. J'Stan's team was the only one that had less than three deaths. To make matters worse, contact had been lost with three of the enclaves being held by Shapers, and all the remaining havens were under increasing pressure from the Mists.

The hunger of the Mists seemed to have grown in size and proportion. More of the few surviving havens for humanity were about to fall. A quick discussion among the leading survivors of the attempt to seal off the Mists resulted in the evacuation of all the remaining area to this, the only location capable of holding over a million people. The evacuation had been arduous on all of them, and thousands had died when mistakes were made.

Now the surviving gifted were meeting to find a solution. Outside this one room, everywhere they went, people were crowded. Food was growing more and more scarce, and the danger of riots was very real. The mood inside the room was desperate and growing worse. J'Stan himself stared at the table, occasionally reacting to something from his son. Thousands of years of experience, of fighting, of striving, and it all came to this. For now, all eighty-three surviving gifted were linked together, each holding part of the shield in place. A temporary solution while they sought a more permanent one.

The sound of the doors at the end of the hallway opening broke everyone out of their reveries. J'Stan recognized his old chief aide, Kel. Kel was flanked by a man and a woman. The man, J'Stan learned through the link with the surviving Guardians, was a non-gifted member of the Ackeland Council. Its leader in fact. Through the linked Shapers, J'Stan recognized the woman as a leading member of the Guilds in the Shapers' Republic. Together, the three of them walked along the table in silence until they stood before J'Stan. As one, all three went to one knee, heads bowed. Kel was the first to look up.

"M'lord," he began gently. "I know you do not like genuflections, but we do it out of respect for all you have done in the last few days."

"We would all be dead if not for your leadership," the woman, Jana Limestal, said.

"We come to beg of you to hear us out," the other man, Hiram Arnass, added.

"I'm more than happy to listen," J'Stan said after a moment, taken aback for a moment as he realized how he'd excluded the non-gifted. "I should have had you here days ago."

"There was little we could have done to help, except to organize our people and keep them calm while you used your powers to save us," Hiram said, his voice almost reverent.

"Still..." J'Stan began, then let his voice drop off as Kel looked him in the eyes.

"M'lord, I like to think that I've come to know you fairly well," Kel said, continuing when J'Stan nodded. "Of all the Lords I've known, you are the one who has taken their duty to the people most seriously. You truly do believe that it is your duty to use your powers to help us.

"Over the last day, we've had the chance to talk to various Lords, Shapers, and Guardians. We understand that the attempt to seal the holes, the rifts, failed. We understand that you have all tried your best, and are even now looking for a way to end this, and that is where the problems are.

"Why though? Maybe we don't need to seal the holes, just keep them from getting in, maybe make the shield bigger so that there's more room for farming. So long as you can keep people safe, you will have more time to find a solution to the Mists."

As Kel finished, J'Stan leaned back, rubbing Tyler's back while he thought. Tyler chose that moment to jump down and go over to Kel, smiling at the familiar man. Kel responded by giving Tyler the hug he looked like he wanted.

"You expect us to have ten or more of us doing nothing but keep a shield going?" asked a Guardian further down the table.

"Look at us now, we are holding it fine, and it's not taking all of our concentration." a Shaper retorted.

"I understand that it helps..um..when we give you our..uh..confidence," Kel said, hunting for words that wouldn't make J'Stan flinch.

"You mean pray to us," one of the more haughty Shapers made clear.

"We are not GODS!" D'vad shouted, slapping the table.

"But it doesn't change the fact that they are both right," J'Stan said with a heavy sigh. "And Bjorn was right as well. Shapers is a more fitting term than Guardian or Lord for what we do. We shape the world around us, and now our mistakes have come home to roost."

"What are you saying?" B'rel asked.

"It is time we, including me, accept the reality of our situation, and our responsibilities," J'Stan said, rising and walking over to pick Tyler up. "We are not going to solve the problem of the Mists in the next few days. I think it's going to take years of study.

"We can't expect a million men, women, and children to live cheek to jowl for that time. Worse, we can't keep the shield up, or expand it, without their...prayers. However it is that it works, it helps us, and makes us stronger. Right now we need every edge we can get."

"You mean this?" B'rel asked rhetorically.

"Yes, I do. But there's even more," J'Stan continued, turning to look at the people sitting at the table. "Over the millennia, those of us who are gifted have more often than not sought to rule over the ungifted. That ends now. We see what that has brought us, just look outside this room.

"From today on, we serve the people. One thing about Gods that most people don't think about: When people pray to their God, have faith in their God; it is the God's responsibility to care for them, to answer those prayers. A God is only as strong as the faith of his worshippers. If we are to assume that role, we assume that responsibility. We will not tell the people what to do in their daily lives, we will not make laws for people to live by.

"We will keep the Mists back," D'vad said, nodding slowly.

"We will make the soil fertile, and provide seed for farming," B'rel added.

"We'll play our role, and let people live their lives without us telling them what to do," J'Stan finished. The link let him know there was no need to call for a vote.

"What do we call this new land, then?" B'rel asked, half whimsically. All eyes turned to J'Stan, waiting for him to pick a name. He looked down into the eyes of his son and smiled.

"Tylera"