Chris could only watch and wait for the others, though he hoped they wouldn't return. 

After he fell to his knees in surrender, he was stripped of his swords and supplies, bound by the hands, and placed inside a glass jar topped by a lid punched with air holes, as if he were a bug for them to watch die an excruciatingly slow death. He couldn't even hear what orders were being given. Enemies as far, high, and wide as he could see—their lips moved, their hands pointed—but the acoustics of his glass prison made their voices inaudible.

But he wasn't fortunate enough to be left in silence. He had two Modified Gray Coats inside the jar with him. They paced by, not taking their eyes off him, ready to strike if he so much as twitched. And their predatory breathing was almost as loud as Chris's pulse.

As his guards—inside the jar, outside the jar—wandered about, he occasionally caught glimpses of what was beyond them. The view came only in flashes, but Chris saw what he needed to. Joe and Cassie had been captured as well. 

At the first sight of blood on Cassie's dress, Chris's eyes immediately collided with the shameless and knowing stare of the soldier holding her by the hair. His sneer made every hair on Chris's body stand up with rage.

After a deep laugh that found its way inside of Chris's head and a brief, snakelike flick of the tongue over his bloody teeth, the soldier tossed Cassie into the mud with brutal and unnecessary force. Another soldier pushed Joe beside her.

A human-sized Gray Coat scooped them up and dropped them into the same jar Chris was in. They both landed with a bone-jarring clunk. 

Bounding to his feet, Chris had to evade the grasp of his two Gray Coats guards to get closer to them. 

"Sit back down!" one of them shouted. 

Undeterred, Chris stumbled toward the center of the jar. "Are you both all right?"

"Sure. Peachy." Joe rose to his feet and wiped blood from his lip with his sleeve.

"I'm fine," Cassie muttered at the exact moment Chris had to dive underneath a tackle.

By the time he was on his feet again, she had moved farther away. With her arms crossed over her chest and shoulders, she eased into a sitting position by the glass wall. She unfolded her arms enough to cradle her knees and she buried her face in them. She may have tried, but she couldn't conceal the blood from him, not entirely, because it was everywhere.

While the Gray Coats herded Chris and Joe away from Cassie, Chris was jumping to see over their shoulders. "Then why are you bleeding?" he shouted to her.

One of the guards pushed him to the ground and gave him a hard backhanded slap across the face. Chris glared at his punisher and then strained to get a better look. But she was just a tiny trembling blur in the distance. 

"Why is she bleeding?" Chris hissed to Joe.

Joe shrugged, but the lack of shock in his expression suggested a higher awareness.

"You know something! Tell me, Goddammit!"

"She fell. I saw it," Joe whispered.

"Quiet!"

The Gray Coat closest to Joe grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him to a new location. Then the jar lifted off the ground and daylight was taken from them as they were put into some kind of bag. Even in the absolute blackness, Chris couldn't erase from his mind the sight of Cassie's blood. At this point, he could see no way around it.

Red would be the color to seal their fate.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hours passed.

Maybe a day and night, maybe several days and nights. There was the feeling of steady motion, occasionally disrupted by tips and turns. But at no point could they tell where they were being taken or when the journey might end, though Joe was venturing a guess.

At seemingly irregular intervals, the lid was opened and crumbs of food were handed to their Gray Coat guards for distribution. Then, more nothingness.

At long last, the bumping and sliding in darkness came to a conclusion with a final thud and a sudden burst of light. Joe's sharp senses had, for what felt like forever, compensated for his lack of sight, so the brightness forced his eyes into a pained squint. He realized, though, that the light was only moonlight, and the brightness was a sparkling from what appeared to be snow.

Then Joe heard a sound he had at first appreciated but now dreaded. The lid of the jar was squeaking. 

The gust of wind that found them, even within the confines of the thick glass, gave a sharp and deadly chill. Joe no longer had any doubt. The fairytale journey that had begun in Pyxis was now circling back to the start.

Before long, Joe, Chris, and Cassie were tumbling down the side of the jar. They landed in a Gray Coat's wide palm and were soon feeling the crush of his fat fingers.

The Gray Coat set them down in front of a gate—the gate. At the main entrance to the underground city, there were more soldiers than Joe could count. Many were wingless and wore gray, but most were in proud red and blue with the asymmetric star sealed upon their breastplates. And every sharp object known to man and fairy—swords, battle-axes, knives, spears, arrows—were pointed at them, three bound, unarmed fairies. Running was not an option. Even if Joe tripped and fell, he'd likely be impaled in thirty different places.

One word came to his mind—overkill.

With the guidance of many disciplined hands, the gate creaked opened. A wave of soldiers descended beneath the snow and rock, and when there was room to move, Joe was tugged forward by the rope tethered to his hands.

Royal Way was a circus, and like tigers, elephants, or bears, the MacRae brothers and Princess Cassiopeia were paraded toward the front of the procession like the main attraction.

Most of the onlookers were shouting insults—Infidels, Unworthy, Bottom-Dwellers—and were throwing putrid objects at them. But there were also many fairies doing the opposite—mocking, attacking, or provoking the soldiers. In a city where the oppressed were nearing desperation, bloodshed on this unprecedented night was a guarantee. And it was happening right before Joe's eyes. The soldiers were clearing the street of opposition with remorseless ease, like bushwhackers through dead reeds.

When they arrived at the Aerial Palace, the soldiers dragged them past the main gate and down a walkway between the palace wall and a graveyard.

Angry fairies swarmed the curved bars adjacent and overhead. There were impressive gargoyle sentinels behind them—monuments for the dead who must have been deemed worthy.

Soon they ducked beneath a gated arch and descended treacherously steep stairs. They plummeted deep into the earth, blazing torches lighting the way.

After two turns and more stairs, Joe was pushed into a cell near the end of a dark corridor. Chris was whisked farther on.

Joe decided to sit down and subtly see what his powers were capable of with his degree of stress and exhaustion, and if he failed, he'd find what minimal comfort he could while he still had the chance.

Before long, he heard the creak of moving metal and Cassie stumbled into view. Pale, listless, covered in wounds already, and with her tiny wrists bound in front of her, she was no match for the fairy beside her.

He was her antithesis in pride and confidence and had powerful black wings and a commanding aura. Yet he was undoubtedly her brother. Their hair and eyes were identical in hue and form, and when his black eyes flicked down at Cassie, there was a hint of pity there. The full power of the black-winged fairy's disdain landed elsewhere. "Get up!"

Joe stood as ordered. Once his cage was unlocked, he knew to follow them.

Cassie's brother opened the third cell on the left, where Chris was. He sprang to his feet and was beside the entrance, prepped to fight or run. But he wasn't given a chance. A guard pushed him back, and after a chaotic shuffling of feet, hands, wings, and weapons, the cage door creaked closed and slammed shut. Joe, Chris, and Cassie were together again, but behind bars, and they weren't alone. Guards loomed around them, even within their confinement.

Without hesitation, Joe stumbled toward Chris. "That's her brother," he warned.

"What? How did we miss that little fact?" Chris hissed back.

"Yes, Andromeda has a son, and I am he, Canis Major, heir to the throne of Pyxis!" the prince, having overheard them, announced from his front-and-center position on the other side of the bars.

Chris was still staring at Joe with wide, demanding eyes as if to say, What the hell is going on?

In response, Joe could only shrug.

"We are unable to find your father and your children," the prince said, addressing Chris. "And we need answers."

Joe and Chris exchanged glances, while Cassie retreated into the darkest corner and deepest shadow.

The prince waited a moment, and when no response came, he said, "All right, then. If you are going to test my patience, whom should I kill first? My treasonous half-sister?" He peered into the darkness, attempting to locate her. But he quickly lost interest. "Or perhaps the pitifully inadequate MacRae?" He glanced over Joe with a sneer, seemingly as unimpressed as his words suggested. Then his eyes moved to Chris and lit up with the reflection of fire. "Or better yet, the angry one I've heard so much about. Oh, yes," he said through clenched teeth as he smiled. "'Christopher the Valiant,' elder son of my mother's most long-standing enemy." His wings flexed, his smile fell, his nose flared, and his voice rose. "You'll cower before me and beg for death by the time I am through with you." 

He only had eyes for Chris and added the keys to the lock with fiendish commitment.    

Suddenly, Cassie slipped into view. She threw herself against the bars by the lock. "Wait! Canis Major! Brother. . ."

The startled prince dropped the keys.

"Mother would want to make a public spectacle of their deaths. If you let me out of here, I will tell you everything. I promise," Cassie wheedled. "I know where Scott MacRae is living, and where the children are being hidden. Name what you want—friends, relatives, allies—and they will all be yours."

Canis raised an eyebrow at her, at the very least, cautiously intrigued. Then his face contorted with clear doubt and disgust. He retrieved the keys from the ground. His glare and all his fury returned to Chris.

"They're in hotel rooms using false names in the place they call the North Shore," she then blurted. "I know because I was there. If you were smart, you'd believe me and then I'll do anything you ask, just—"

Cassie didn't get a chance to finish her plea. After one angry, desperate tug against the rope, Chris freed his hands and lunged at her like a lion toward a gazelle. He pinned her against the wall by her throat before the guards could even ready their swords.

"Don't!" Joe shouted, but his words and his body were pushed aside by the commotion.

Chris's hand was shaking, his body too, and Cassie closed her eyes. She looked peaceful, as if she were dead already.

She didn't squirm, didn't fight. Chris had the chance to kill her, but he hesitated. Or maybe he just didn't have it in him despite the depth of what he assumed was betrayal.

"I thought you weren't like her," Chris cried out as the guards peeled him away from Cassie. "I was wrong!" He freed one hand and swung wildly, threw an elbow into a gut, tried to get in a kick, but once his body hit the ground and the punches started, Chris gave in and lay still.

Meanwhile, Cassie had collapsed to the ground, struggling for breath. The gate opened and Canis crouched beside her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He then cupped her chin and whispered something. She nodded, he nodded back, and then he guided her toward the cell door. 

He took a detour, though, toward Chris, the bloody mess on the ground. "I'll deal with you later, you poor excuse for a fairy."

Canis kicked Chris with enough force to hear bones crack. And the guards were about to follow his lead.

Joe then found his feet, his voice, his courage—and his magic. "Leave him alone!" He lifted rocks, dirt, debris with his eyes, and flung them at Canis and his guards. The torches on the wall blazed to a roar, their wooden handles splintering and embers raining down. Joe sent Cassie, her brother, and the guards bounding toward the exit.

The gate slammed and locked behind them with an industrial clank.

Joe dropped his eyes and fought for breath as he pulled the power back in. It was painful to move, but he stumbled toward the bars. He needed to see Cassie one last time. He'd had his qualms about her too, but he wasn't entirely convinced she'd cast them off to make nice with her family. Joe watched and waited for some sign that this was all a misunderstanding.

She was securely wrapped in Canis's arm when they approached, her head leaning toward his chest. Then, just before she stepped past him, she gave Joe a subtle wink.

Once they were out of sight, Joe pounded on the bars with both hands and could barely contain his smile.

At least someone has a plan!

Joe plopped down next to Chris and gave him a firm nudge. "Are you completely out of your mind?"

Chris rolled to his hands and knees and dragged himself over to the wall. He shrugged, and then leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Play that entire scene back in your head but give Cassie the benefit of the doubt this time." Joe waited for him to show some sign he was listening. "She was trying to protect you . . . again."

Chris's head jerked forward. "How do you know that?"

Joe shrugged. "She winked at me."

"So what?" Chris leaned back against the wall again and directed his unfocused eyes at the rocks wedged between the rafters.

"Don't you remember? The long walk in the fairy tunnel? The 'Joe, why do you keep doing that with your eye' conversation?" he said, giving his best impression of Cassie's voice. "You laughed, I got pretty pissed at you, and in the end, I tried to explain the wink?"

"Vaguely," Chris stated flatly.

"The wink means that she might be the only hope we have left."

"What does it even matter anymore?"

"C'mon, Chris. Pull it together. This is the championship round, the ninth inning, the last game of the World freakin' Series. We need your A game right now, not whatever this is," Joe said, shooing him with his hand, "or we're both gonna die!"

Chris closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose for a long while. Then, finally, his eyes opened as if someone had switched on a light inside of him. "You're right."

"Wow, I've never heard those words come out of your mouth before."

"No, seriously, we can do this. We escaped once—why wouldn't we be able to do it again? I've been training hard, and you've got magic. We're the underdogs here, but we can sneak up and bite these bastards in the ass!" Chris began unbinding Joe's hands.

"Now you're talking."

"And, Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for having my back before. That was awesome."

Joe couldn't believe his eyes—Chris was actually smiling.

"Did you see their faces?" Chris continued. "Especially Prince Pompous. I bet he'll never call you 'pitifully inadequate' again."

Joe shrugged nonchalantly but enjoyed the rare compliment. "It was no big deal. You would have done the same for me."

"Well, I appreciate it, and I know I didn't deserve it."

"I haven't exactly been on my best behavior either. So, since we're talking again, are you going to tell me why you've been so sloppy and pathetic around her?" Joe asked, but he immediately cringed. "You know what? On second thought, forget it. I don't want to know."

"Good," Chris said quickly. "I don't want to talk about it. It doesn't matter anyway. If she went to the dark side, we're dead meat. But if she somehow gets us out of this alive. . . ? She'll never speak to me again." His voice, eyes, and posture plummeted back down to hopelessness.

Joe flung a pebble at him with his powers to lighten the mood. "You did kind of level the playing field, didn't you?"  

"That would be putting it mildly. Make sure I get an invitation to your wedding!"

"Ha. Good one." I called the playing field "level," Joe thought, but the match may as well be between Mount Everest and Beacon Hill.

"So, what do we do now?" Chris asked.

"We wait for an opportunity to present itself."

"You mean you can't use your powers to bend the bars or bust that lock, mind-erase our babysitters out there, materialize swords—or better yet, miniature assault rifles—and then summon the Kāne Army?"

"I can't bend the bars. I've already tried," Joe informed him. "The power only goes so far. I could probably handle the lock if I could figure out how to concentrate and accurately direct the pressure. I've never tried on anything that small before. Everything else you mentioned is probably in Book II of MAGICAL MECHANICS, the master's edition," Joe chuckled, since no book like that existed . . . as far as he was aware. "You never know. It may be the inspiration for Fairy World War II. So, rest up. Keep your blades sharp."

His laughter was contagious, enough so that Chris was at least smirking and shaking his head. "I guess we're shit out of luck, then," he replied, throwing his hands in the air. "I don't think we'll survive that long."

"Let's not jump to that conclusion just yet. We have to wait and see what Girl Wonder comes up with."

"If she pulls through, I'll always be known as the biggest idiot in fairy history."

"Hey, your words," Joe said with his hands up, "not mine."

"Yeah, but you were thinking it."

Joe paused, put his finger to his chin, and then removed it quickly. "You're right. I totally was."

Chris chuckled once and nodded in acceptance and defeat. "Thanks."

"I'm here for ya."

Joe and Chris sat on the dungeon floor and continued to poke fun at each other's weaknesses.

They were on the same team again. And it was about time.