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hurt, they will die. How do I accept that?”
    Ende smiles sympathetically. “All life exacts a price, Roan, and there is no denying the unfairness of mortality.”
    â€œIf it was only me…”
    â€œI know well the burden of leadership, and the only relief I have found from it is in action.
    â€œConsider the distracted child who looks carelessly behind her. She does not see the edge of the cliff. In the plunge to her death, there is no forethought, no hand of evil. Yet with this single unconscious act, she tragically alters the lives of her entire family. Goodness, innocence, they do not exempt us from grief. We weep over the fate of the distracted child and her family but it is beyond our reckoning. There are other fates, though, that we can change. As leaders we must recognize that they are more needful of our attention.”
    Kira, her long red hair severely tied back, appears at the door. She bows her head respectfully to her grandmother.
    â€œRise, Roan of Longlight,” Ende commands, and taking his arm she effortlessly pulls him to his feet. “Our guests await you.”
    Plan for war, envision peace, Roan tells himself as he follows Kira and Ende out of the tranquil chamber. He knows the caution behind Ende’s tale. In their world, the children aren’t carelessly tumbling off a cliff, they’re being pushed, and it’s up to him to cut off the hand that’s pushing them.

HOMECOMING
    MABATAN INTERVIEW 1.3.
MOR-TICKS SPREAD LIKE PLAGUE AND WE WERE ALMOST OVERCOME BY THEM. BUT THE WHITE CRICKETS HEALED US AND SHARED THE POWER IN THEIR SONG. WE HAVE WALKED WITH THEM EVER SINCE.
    â€”GWENDOLEN’S CRICKET FILE
    H ISS, CLICK. H ISS, CLICK. Insect-like and menacing, the sound forces an unwilling Stowe out of her comfortable dreams and into a low-ceilinged room illuminated by noxious blue gas. The light is so eerie, she thinks she might not be awake at all, but in some unknown corner of the Dreamfield. She identifies the source of the sound: two albinos, in a mad frenzy, fangs bared, fighting over…a meal? Could the meal be her?
    But there is Willum; clever Willum, he found her. He seems concerned, though not for his life. Stowe does not recognize the fair-haired woman behind him— she is terrified out of her wits. The boy, though—or is it a girl—those dark eyes, Stowe’s seen them before, but she can’t place where. Willum and the boy-girl are listening with such keen interest, she’s sure they can actually understand what those monsters are saying.
    Suddenly, one of the albinos pulls out a short but very sharp-looking knife and waves it threateningly. The other takes a step back, but its hand shoots out and the knife goes clattering on the hard clay floor. That was good. That albino radiates a brilliant crimson. What could it be? The glowing red wisps spiral into deep violet as they bend and twist in the blue light. Beautiful.
    Willum’s picking up the knife and smiling grimly at the growling monster. Stowe watches it consider for a second, then lean back and vanish. Smart monster to have recognized Willum’s power. Smarter than that other monster, Darius. Darius. How is she going to kill him now? She must find a way. She must…but it hurts her head to think of Darius, so she focuses on the walls instead. She sees holes, several of them. Where do they all go?
    â€œWillum?” Stowe says weakly. Her throat is raw; it hurts. Willum is at her side in an instant, his hand enclosing hers.
    â€œDo not worry, we are safe. But the Hhroxhi are divided, and we will have to go another way.”
    â€œHhroxhi?”
    Willum points. The color around the remaining albino is muted now, steadily fading. “Mhyzah here is Hhroxhi. I will explain the situation later. You must rest.”
    Suddenly her body spasms and she begins to shake with rage and fear. Brack. Raven. They were going to hurt her. And Ferrell—“Ferrell?