Galen Fen looked more like an oversized garden gnome than the premier historian Ferina professed. He scanned over an old, leather-bound book on a cluttered desk, grunting now and then as his brown eyes darted across the pages. Short and squat, a pile of cushions on his wooden chair elevated him enough to bend over the book. His tangled white beard contained bits of his last meal, and a dark mole stood out on an oversized round nose. A brown cap and stained overalls completed the look.

Ferina lifted an eyebrow. "Well, Galen, what have you found?"

"Uh, uh," he grunted, wagging a crooked finger dismissively without looking up. Galen slapped the book closed and chose another from a crowded bookcase behind him. The swiveling chair squealed as he twisted around.

Mom and I shared cloaked grins at his eccentric behavior, while Anara waited patiently, Targon snoozing across her shoulders. The four of us sat hip-to-hip on a narrow wooden bench in front of the desk, but only after first clearing it of piled papers, dirty dishware, and a surly orange cat. Sunbeams through a cracked west-facing window lit up dust motes in their paths.

After our Stone Curse expedition ended in failure, we teleported to Freehold, a Circulus Libertus settlement on the far side of Elysium, and also Ferina's home town. It contained an eclectic mix of homes jumbled between massive oak-like trees and a vibrant central market. The curse that marked Anara drew many sets of passing eyes as we walked along the winding paths, but mostly, everyone was friendly. Ferina explained that the settlement was hidden from the Council's diviners by a magic spell.

Galen closed the book and leaned back in the desk chair, lacing fingers behind his head. "Hmm..." he only said.

"Well?" Ferina responded after a few moments of inactivity.

"Most curious," Galen said, firming his lips. He said nothing more, and an awkward silence filled the small office.

"What is most curious?" she spat. "Tell us or so help me, I'll turn you into a toad."

Galen leveled his eyes at Ferina. "That actually cannot be done."

"An expression, Galen, but I can make you think you are a toad. Now, speak!"

"Harrumph," he grunted. Then Galen lifted a pottery teakettle from his desk and poured into a ceramic mug, but nothing came out. "Uriche!" he shouted. "More tea!"

A tall bushy haired young man, about my age, wearing a gray tunic shirt, swung the wooden door open and scanned us with suspicious narrowed eyes. Then he dashed in and out, snatching up the teakettle along the way.

"And make sure it be hot this time!" Galen called out to Uriche as the door slammed. The historian took a deep breath and raised bushy white eyebrows. "Now, where was I?"

"Something curious?" Ferina hissed impatiently.

"Ah, yes! The Curse of Stone. An ingenious spell it was, never duplicated. Did you know it feeds on magic used against it? That it also infected a witch is not unprecedented." He looked at Anara. "I am sorry, my dear. By historical accounts, it happened to only the most powerful witches that dared to interfere. So diabolical."

Ferina took a deep, cleansing breath and rolled her eyes up. "That much we know, Galen. Get to the curious part?"

Galen gazed at me. "A Symbio Magique appears every other century, but always as a woman. Never before had it been a man with no magical abilities, and never before in the line of Cephas Carne. Most curious, do you think?"

Mom and I gulped simultaneously, and my stomach tightened. We had not told him that Cephas was a distant ancestor.

"I see that in your eyes, especially your mother," Galen explained, answering our unasked question. He leaned forward, clasping his hands. "But most fascinating was the curse's reaction to your coordinated attack. The defense was adaptive, targeted, and, dare I speak, intelligent. Nothing such has ever been recorded."

"Intelligent?" I said, wrinkling my forehead. "What could that be?"

"The Curse of Stone is directed, as if alive." Galen leaned back with a smug expression, apparently reveling in his intellectual prowess. "Thus, if I may carry the analogy further, somewhere lies its brain."

"The origin," Anara said, her eye widening. "Where it all began. If such exists, there it would be."

Galen grinned. "A reasonable conjecture, my dear."

Ferina stood and said, "Then there we must go. I thank you, my dear Galen. Again, you have provided enlightenment, although in your usual petulant way." We all joined Ferina on our feet.

A half-grin rose on Galen's face. "When this is done, return, and I shall record the events for posterity."

The door creaked open, and in marched Uriche, carrying the teapot and a surly frown. A second man, burly with short, dark hair and an equally disagreeable expression, followed him.

Galen rolled his eyes, then grumbled, "Finally, the tea. Took your sweet time, did you, Uriche? And who is this with you?"

An unspoken curse on his lips, Uriche passed behind me. We all jerked when the teapot crashed to the floor, smashing into countless pieces.

But most alarming was the long-bladed knife that appeared at my throat, held from behind by the second man.

I froze, and my heart raced. Mom narrowed her eyes and took a step closer while Ferina raised her hands.

"Stay back!" The man hissed, yanking me further away. His eyes shifted to Ferina. "And if but one thread of magic comes from you, witch, I slice his throat!"

Interesting. Since my mother and Anara wore no crystals, he must believe they were not magical threats. We might use that to our advantage. My eyes locked with my mother's and she subtly nodded.

"What is the meaning of this, Uriche!" Galen shouted, jumping up.

"Shut up, old man!" Uriche spat back. He drew a shiny blade and pointed it at Galen. "I should gut you, here and now."

"What do you want?" Ferina challenged.

A female voice answered with a voice dripping of smugness, "Why, just a friendly chat, my dear Ferina."

A smirking older woman in a flowing white dress strolled in, flanked by two female agents. I recognized her — the Council Reverent, the woman who condemned Anara and my mother.

"Please, excuse the inelegant tactics," she continued, motioning to the brute holding a knife to my neck. "But the Symbio Magique's aversion to magic made it necessary."

Anara turned down her lips in a rare display of anger. "Told you as much, I did."

"Be not so cross, Anara. Brought him before the Council, I would grant you that. But you must agree, such a fantastic claim it first was." The Reverent shook her head and let out an airy breath. "Such a shame the curse marks you so grotesquely."

Ferina narrowed her eyes, and her voice took a cutting edge. "I ask again, what do you want?"

Baring teeth, the Reverent's hands flashed up and green streamers of magic shot out, surrounding Ferina. The streamers pressed in, piercing her. Ferina shuttered, bending over at the magic assault, and a pained cry escaped her lips. Red streaks crawled across her skin as she collapsed to the dusty floor, curled in the fetal position and trembling. Now frail, the vibrancy she once had was gone. Hot anger rose from my core and I bucked against my captor, but stopped as the knife pressed harder against my neck, drawing blood drops.

The Reverent stood over Ferina and shook her head. "My dear Ferina, did you think the Council unaware of what happens in your disgusting town? Long have we watched it." Shouts and clamor outside reached my ears. "But time comes for it to end, along with your annoying false cause."

Looking at me, the Reverent's monologue continued, "But to the question, I want you, Micah from Kansas, and the Symbio Magique within. Join me and we shall usher in a new glorious age. And your mother and Anara shall be spared. Refuse, and you all die. A simple choice it is, but time is short."

My eyes drifted to my mother, then to Anara. Losing them I could not bear, but accepting the Reverent's offer would likely condemn two worlds. So I chose option three.

Rise, I commanded the flame within. It jumped up, roaring. Flow to Anara — strengthen her, I urged it. Widening my stance and firming my shoulders, I prepared for action. "Time is short, wouldn't you agree, Anara?" My eyes bored into her.

Anara shuddered as the Symbio reached out to her, visible in my mind's eye, and she took a deep breath. "Yes, quite short it is."

At my nod, a tsunami of purple magic blasted out from Anara's body, washing over the entire office. Everyone and everything stilled, caught in her time freeze spell, all except Anara and me.

The spell lasted just two seconds by my frame of reference, but enough for me to knock the knife away and spin in my captor's grasp. With a flash of light, the spell ended. Using my high school wrestling experience, I executed an escape and takedown move, grappling the wide-eyed man and lifting. Turning, I slammed him to the floor on his back.

Snapping her arms up, Mom also leveraged the Symbio Magique and fired off a wide pressure pulse from her hands. The Reverent and her two agents took the full brunt of the attack, blasting them through the weathered wood slat walls of the building and tumbling them across the short-grass lawn.

Uriche spun around, flashing his knife at Galen while casting contempt with his eyes. Targon let out a high-pitched screech and attacked in a flurry of wings and talons, scratching at the Uriche's eyes and face. While he swatted at the little wyvern, Galen came up from behind and thumped him with the knob of a crooked walking stick, sending Uriche to the floor in a crumpled heap.

"Twit," Galen spat, brown eyes narrowed to slits. From the desk, Targon extended its wings and hissed in agreement.

Anara rushed over to Ferina and helped her sit up, leaning against a wall. "Let us find a healer for you, Ferina."

The older woman trembled as she took a wheezy breath, but dismissed Anara's offer with a hand gesture. "No. Galen may fetch me one. And worry not about Freehold, the Council shall soon discover we are not so easily defeated." Ferina placed fingers on Anara's forehead. "I have placed the Origin in your mind so you may teleport there. Go now and fulfill your noble purpose."

With a swirl of hands, weaving a glowing violet circle, Anara constructed the portal. With a final nod of thanks to Ferina, I followed Anara, Targon on her shoulder, and my mother through.