“Leave my mirror alone!”
I grab the frame.
“It’s not a mirror. It’s a piece of technology that doesn’t belong here. It’s out of place and out of time, and it’s coming with me.”
“It is not. You cannot leave,” he insists, furious.
“Scythkin are born in clutches. I might be dead, but I am not alone. There are ninety-nine others just like me, standing behind me. They have the cord of my existence in their hands, and they’re not going to leave me here.”
“Nobody leaves the realm of the faun-king.”
“They do, though. We are already on our way.”
The glowing is becoming brighter.
“This is not possible!” The faun-king shouts.
“It is. I was promised to Hyrrm. The god of the mountain. The fiery beast who lurks in rock beyond time,” Tres says.
“That was a stupid human idea…”
“No. It wasn’t. I’ve just realized that Trelok wasn’t actually wrong. I found Hyrrm. He’s here. It’s him. Vulcan. Hyrrm by another name.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!” The faun-king is tearing at his hair. “How could an alien be a mountain god?”
“How could a king leave his daughter to be murdered?” Tres replies. “There are many unnatural things in this world.”
“He’s no king. He’s a common faun with a piece of technology that doesn’t belong to him. This mirror allowed you to prey on the females of Earth for too long. It ends. Now.”
FWOMP
That is the sound of death being cheated, of time being torn. That is the sound of all that is wrong being made right. My essence and Tres’s are pulled from the realm of the dead, across time, and into a spaceship, where flesh clothes us, trillions of particles sucked from the universe to follow the code laid out in our core.
She opens her eyes.
Tres
“I feel you,” I say, my voice soft with wonder.
“I feel you too,” he growls.
I feel everything. I have a heart that beats. I have skin which feels. I am alive, with all that entails. My stomach growls and gurgles. I am starving.
“I’m hungry.”
“Being suddenly reconstituted from stardust will do that to you,” Vulcan says. He is smiling broadly, his long fangs flashing with pure glee. He pulls me close and embraces me with the intensity only a triumphant scythkin can master.
“I don't understand what has happened to me. But I know you’ve saved me. Time and time again.”
“And I will keep saving you,” he tells me. “Because you’re what makes the world worth it.”
“I don’t have goat legs!” I cry out in relief, looking down at myself. I have the human form I remember, perfect and complete.
“Of course not. They were an illusion of the faun. Never trust a man with horns.”
“You have horns.”
“Never trust a man with horns and hooves, then.”
I laugh and press a kiss to his face. The handsome human illusion of the afterlife has disappeared to be replaced by this vicious warrior, and I could not be more pleased. “How are we alive? I saw you die.”
“And I saw you die, but it wasn’t my time, and it wasn’t yours either. You and I were thorns in the side of eternity. It wanted us out. We’re out now.”
I hear heavy footsteps coming.
“Alright. Brace yourself,” Vulcan tells me. “We may be about to face the most fierce beast yet.”
The wall slides open and just as Vulcan predicted, another angry beast storms into our presence. He looks just like Vulcan, but more tired, as if the weight of a myriad of responsibilities has worn him down. He flashes his fangs as he directs irritation at Vulcan.
“Well,” he says. “I hope you're happy. Throwing yourself into space and then damn well DYING. What the hell, Vulcan?!”
“I’m not happy. I’m ecstatic,” Vulcan says. “This is Tres.”
“I know who this is,” Krave says, flicking his molten gaze toward me before focusing on Vulcan once more. “You do realize what we had to do to get you back, correct?”
“Science things, I bet,” Vulcan says, more flippant than I recall him being. I also don’t recall him smiling this much. His joy makes him look more fierce than ever, all fangs, sharp teeth and bright, molten eyes.
“I had to disassemble both your bodies on a quantum level and bring them here and do you know what?”
“What?”
“People. Saw,” he growls. “So now, there are several humans walking around the planet, telling each other that bodies sometimes rise from the dead.”
“Humans like to tell stories,” Vulcan says. “The weirder the better. This won’t hurt them.”
“At least you got rid of the Galactor peons,” Krave sighs. “That is one small mercy. Ancient Earth will not be overrun with aliens. Just stories about people who are dead but alive, and flying saucers and alien technology which is capable of all kinds of magic.”
“They had that anyway.”
“That’s true. And I pulled out a piece of missing technology from that faun’s place. Look what he had.” Vulcan points over at the mirror, which has landed in this realm sitting up against the far wall.