Amy Coren sat down atop the blue mountain and she sighed despondently. She could have cried, but crying was not a natural state for Amy, and it certainly wasn't something she would ever do in front of someone. The someone she was in front of was a virtual stranger, but he was grounded and straight-talking, and he reminded her of the kind of everyday folks she encountered in her native New York City—she missed those people, for all of their faults and failings, and it made her sad; sincerely sad. She missed their honest bluntness; she missed their certainty in the bleakness of life and their enthusiasm for the belief that their individual dreams would one day come true. She missed the pollution of the city, even in the deep heat of summer when it teased at her asthma and tormented her sleep. She missed her friends, with their intrigues, and broken hearts and tales of eternal love. She missed working in the strange little boutique; she longed for the assorted misfits that came through the door of the shop and annoyed her with less than worthy questions, or who engaged her in the kind of small talk she could waste hours on without ever drawing breath, or being overcome by fatigue. Yet as much as she missed New York City, the memory of, and the sense of connection to her home was fading fast—and that sense of loss terrified her, and it was at the heart of her melancholy. With only a few years of her teenage life left to experience, she felt entirely short-changed. Her friends, her taste in music, her wardrobe and her general attitude to life was proudly alternative—she was accustomed to living her life her way, but in her new home her entire sense of self had been completely turned on its head.

Cathal, the someone with her on the mountain top, was the father of the young witch Branna, and it was Branna who had convinced Amy that she should give up the comfort and security of her modern-day, New York life—even if the frenetic, and deadly circumstances that brought her from that familiar place to a strange new land, was less of a choice, and more of a fight for survival. The city of her birth was no longer safe, and the evil that had now found a sure foothold in her hometown was poised to spread across the face of the Earth. She had been faced with a straightforward choice—stay in New York and watch as an unstoppable force of evil destroyed everything and everyone as it searched for her or leave the city in the hope that the evil would also leave. The young witch had some help in convincing Amy to turn her back on her family and on the city that she loved. That help came in the form of Saint Patrick and Doctor John Dee—they formed an unlikely and somewhat random collaboration, yet on the vast tapestry of history it was a partnership that made sense, if only to those more informed than Amy. Both men were certain that Amy was special and important in the eternal war against evil. Their belief in her came to nothing; at least that's how Amy saw it. Patrick was left a broken shadow of his former self, wandering the grand empty buildings of the city by night, and hiding from the curious population by day. John Dee had fared even worse. His slain body lay on the floor of a French castle in the distant past—a failed attempt to recruit another potential saviour into his righteous army. Amy did not know for certain that Dee was dead; he was lost, as far as those who knew him well were concerned, but Amy somehow sensed that Dee had taken more than a wrong turn as he travelled into the past on his ill-fated quest. His death was merely a gut feeling, but her gut was seldom wrong.

"I would offer you a penny for your thoughts," said Cathal. "But you are a modern girl. Would you accept a card? Bitcoin?"

Amy smiled warmly, but the lack of contours around her eyes betrayed the falseness of the expression.

"What would you know about credit cards? Or cryptocurrency?" Amy replied, playfully.

"I have been to the modern world. I am not a prisoner to this place. I love superhero movies, even if they are farfetched and overblown."

"Yeah, it's not like anything like that could happen in real life," Amy teased.

Amy's expression darkened.

"But I am," she mused. "Stuck here. A prisoner in this place. Away from everything that I know and everyone who I love. Will I ever return? Will my life ever go back to what it was?"

Cathal sighed. The explanation behind her circumstances had been given to her many times. It was sound reasoning, and more importantly, it was true. He humoured her, nonetheless.

"The threat against you, and your family, and to New York, remains. We continue to monitor the situation. That is all the hope I can offer. I would try to sooth your mind with a plausible lie, but I know you well enough to understand how easily you would see through the deception. It would serve no purpose. Patrick and Dee are wise. They see something in you. Something vital in this war. We will unpick that mystery and you will appreciate the importance of your sacrifice. The importance of you."

"I know that is what they believe, but at this point it does sound a lot like a lie they tell themselves; or at the very least, a hopeful delusion," she said. "I wish someone would tell these forces of darkness that I am in no way special. I am not a threat to them. Maybe then I could return home?"

"John Dee thought differently. This is a war that you have been dragged into, but you are now in it. The evil that hunts you will not relent. Even if you have no great role to play, the other side will not take your word for that, or our word. They will always see you as a threat by virtue of the fact that we consider you to be important. Dee knew that, but he still believed it was necessary to bring you into this fight. He has always acted in your best interests. He would not have brought you here on a whim. He is the wisest man that I have ever known."

"And look what happened to him. He is hardly a role model for good judgement. Lost, and most likely dead. If it can happen to him, with all that knowledge and power at his fingertips, what hope is there for me?"

"John Dee is a man. A remarkable man, but a man all the same. The creature that hunts you is one step down from a god. If that creature sees you as a threat, then there must be something special about you. The praise of a good friend is no praise at all. The praise of an enemy? Well, that is something to behold, and to cherish. The creature fears you. That fear may not have any grounding in fact, but it is a distraction. In my book that can only be a good thing. We aren't exactly winning many battles against this darkness, so I'm inclined to count your continued survival as a small victory for our side."

"I would rather live out my life back at home in my apartment, unpraised and uncherished. I don't want to be a threat. I just want my old life back. Any chance the Big Bad is on Facebook? We could shoot him a quick message to let him know just how harmless I am? There's bound to be an Emoji for that?"

"No doubt," said Cathal, smiling. "But it wouldn't work."

"Why ever not?"

"We have all manner of magical creatures in this land. There are Angels, and demons. Time travelling portals, and such, but no one thought to install an internet connection. I am afraid we are going to have to ride this storm out the old-fashioned way. And if it's any consolation to you, I was once in the same position you are now in. Brought to this place against my will. I was lost, and frightened, and yearning day and night for the chance to live one more minute of my old life. Just one. It was an unquenchable thirst."

"And how did you get over it?"

"I didn't. I'm still sitting here, confused and lost, and feeling utterly useless, for the most part. I take it one day at a time, and I do everything really slowly."

"The only way you know how, old man," she said, smiling.

Amy sat down effortlessly; she had the speedy grace of youth at her disposal. Cathal sat next to her in a lumbering, grunt-filled excuse for a movement, as if age had somehow dulled his ability to carry out the motion with anything approximating elegance. They had their backs to the city. Before them, stretched out in miniature, as far as the eye could see, lay the kingdoms built by the brothers. Thousands of years in the making, they were grand and meticulously crafted affairs. Cities of stone surrounded by high, fortified walls. Castles, watchtowers, temples, storehouses of unimaginable vastness. In one settlement there were two giant pyramids, much larger than those of Egypt, with a distance of over twenty miles separating them. Each pyramid was surrounded by a dense forest and connecting one pyramid to the other there was a narrow line of buildings comprised of white, marble structures in the classical Greek style. The marble reflected sunlight and shadow as the backward moving sun traced its course from west to east across the pristine, deep-blue sky. A Roman style amphitheatre dominated the heart of the city closest to where Amy and Cathal sat. It was as if the brothers had searched through all human history and brought the very best in human design to this place, and then improved on it—or in some cases, it had been turned into an exaggerated monstrosity of the original. The truth, unknown to Amy, was quite contrary—these cities predated and inspired those of mankind. Nonetheless, Amy mused that the most demented Las Vegas architect, with an unlimited budget, would have shied away from some of vulgarity on display. The lack of Manhattan-type skyscrapers was a disappointment to the uninformed Amy, as she wondered what it said about the opinion the builders had of the modern world that they had made no attempt whosoever to emulate the ingenuity of her home town and time.

"It is totally mad," said Amy, as she came out of her thoughts. "Breath-taking, but utter madness. It's what Vegas would look like if they let a maniac build it. And exactly who did build it? Where are they now?"

She sprung to her feet and gestured wildly as she pointed accusingly at the various towns and monuments as she ranted.

"It doesn't make any sense. Look at this mess. And why go to all that trouble and then just leave? Where did they go? Are they going to come back? If they do come back, what does that mean for us. I mean, the egos on show down there are out of this world, literally. I can't imagine they will be pleased with us just crashing like this. And why has no one found this place? The size of it; surely someone would have found it before us? It is wrecking my head."

She dropped back to the ground while finishing her last sentence. Cathal sighed, deeply. It was not a despondent sound, more an indication that he did not know where to start. Amy quickly picked up on the sound and she braced herself for more words than she needed to hear. She had a lot of time for Cathal, but he had a way of over-painting the canvas when it came to history and speculation.

"Where are the now? Down there. Expanding their kingdoms, joining in battle. Preparing," he said.

"Preparing for what? And I don't see anyone. I've never seen anyone."

"From what I understand, they are preparing for a final battle against the forces of darkness. The final battle. But first they must go to war with themselves."

"Going to war against one another?" she asked, with mild surprise. "What are you talking about? If there is a big battle coming and they are all on the same side, why in the hell would they want to fight each other?"

"I didn't say I understood why they do what they do, I am just telling you what they are doing. Or, to be more correct, what I understand about what they are doing."

She smiled.

"It seems that hundreds of years amongst the books in your library haven't taught you everything," she teased. "To be fair, it hasn't really taught you anything."

"Not a bit of it. The books know it all. Everything we need to understand this place and why we are here is to be found in those books. If I don't know all the answers, then I have yet to find the book with those answers. Besides, what I know of the folks down there, I did not learn in the library. I have spent a lot of time with them. Wandering from kingdom to kingdom and writing a few tomes of my own in the process."

Amy looked surprised.

"I thought we couldn't go there?" she asked. "To the kingdoms?"

"Not a bit of it. Going there is no bother at all. Going there and keeping your head... Therein lies the rub."

"But you did it."

She did not guess that he was teasing at her curiosity.

"I did it, and I kept my head."

"How?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, you ignorant Yank; I am adorable. It is too pretty a head to remove from its mount."

He grinned widely. She smiled in return; peevish yet still tolerant.

"But seriously, how did you do it?"

"I introduced myself. I told them of my intentions, and I left my fate at their mercy. They were merciful. And they like to hear news of our city, and of the outside world. They don't visit the realm of men that much these days. Too much going on here to be bothered with such base journeys. To be honest, that they stay clear of our world is worrisome. To me it means that things are coming to a head. The final battle that will end all battles. It doesn't matter what you truly believe in, there isn't a man or woman alive who doesn't think that one day we will come to an end. The age of man will be over, either by our own hand or at the hands of beings so powerful that we stand no chance against them."

"Yeah, the world has been coming to an end ever since I was a child, and for a lot longer before that. Yet here we are. The end is neigh brigade have screwed-up on their predictions throughout all human history. I tend to give the idea a wide berth. Can I visit the kingdoms? I mean, would it be safe? It doesn't have to be the end of the world to be the end of my world."

"Safe? God no. But we could visit one or two places. Some of the beings seem well disposed to our kind. But there are others who would snuff us out like vermin, given half a chance."

"Why only one or two? Why do they hate us?"

"You are an insistent pup," he said, playfully. "One or two of the kingdoms love me from my brow to my toes. Some would see me cut from brow to toes. As for why? Your guess is a as good as mine. I accept the reality of the circumstances, and then act accordingly. This head is staying where it is, as long as I have any say in the matter."

She smiled.

"Adorable, was it? Just not adorable enough for some people. Though to be fair, you wouldn't have to have a deep loathing for all mankind to have a deep loathing for you. If I were a queen, I'd have your annoying head off in a flash. What did you do to piss them off?"

"They like to ask questions, but some of the kings are less disposed to having questions put to them. They thought I was a spy, or something."

"A spy? For who?"

"The bad lad on the far mountain," he said, gesturing with his head towards a tall mountain across the wide river flowing through the valley below. "And they have good cause for their suspicion. You know what my daughter is?"

"Yes, but she is not evil."

"To be sure. As pure as the driven snow, that one. That is the good side of her, and that side is down to the power and love of her mother. But the dark side... She got that way because of me. And I got to a state of damnation because of the evil that lives on that mountain. It is a complicated affair. But complicated keeps it interesting, if nothing else."

"But you aren't..."

"God no," he said, with a smile. "But if I was evil, I would tell you?"

Amy's expression changed to one of impatience.

"Don't fret so, lass. My good wife, god rest her soul, was a powerful child of the Earth. A witch, in your parlance. She fixed the evil inside me, and in our daughter. If it were not so, John Dee and big Paddy would have done away with me a long time ago. And Branna too."

The tension on her face melted away at his words of reassurance.

"You know," she started. "I did notice something about you. I mean, it happened the day we first met, in the library. I could see... I don't know."

"A shimmer, or mist, or smoke? Dark, and otherworldly?" he asked, meekly.

"Yeah, something like that. What is it? I mean, I don't see it now. Just your stupid, smug face."

"It, as you so succinctly put it, could be the very reason why you are here. You saw the darkness inside me. An aura, or some such. An afterglow of the gift that the evil one forced onto me. There are not many that see it. None that have crossed my path. You are rare, for certain."

"And what use is it? I mean, we know, or at least you and the others know who the bad guys are. What use can I be?"

"We know the main players. They probably have spies in our city, so it's fair to assume that they know more about us than we know about them. And the lads down there... If we are heading towards the last battle, wouldn't it be great to know for whom the hearts of each of the kings truly beats? I'm just throwing it out there. It isn't nothing. The next best thing next to nothing... There is a reason why you are here and why you have your ability. Who knows, you could just be the most important weapon in the coming war? Not likely, I'll grant you, but you could be."

"Maybe. The next best thing next to nothing? That my friend, would make you nothing."

He smiled at her words.

"You are always so down on yourself," he said, in a serious tone. "You are here for a reason. Maybe not that reason, but there is a reason. There's always a reason. Nothing happens in this place by chance. It may appear so, but I know better. Like autumn leaves scattering in the wind, or the murmuration of a flock of starlings—they appear chaotic, but they find their purpose, even if they never know what that purpose is."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Good girl. You know I make a lot of sense. A handsome and wise man. It is my unique selling point."

She didn't take the bait.

"I want to visit the kingdoms," said Amy.

"Then visit the kingdoms, you shall."

"Simple as that?"

"God no. When is it ever simple? But I feel that it is important that you do. And before you burn my ears with your grating accent, I don't know why. It's just a feeling. You have been kicking around my town for what must seem like a lifetime to an impatient whelp such as yourself, and you have found no meaning. Maybe seeking that meaning in another place is why you are here? There is one thing for certain; the god's honest truth, and no mistake. If you don't spread your wings and seek out some answers you may as well head back to the Big Apple and wait out the apocalypse. It's a simple choice; be as useless as you look or be something more."

"Okay, we will leave it at that, for now. In the meantime, you can tell me all that I need to know about this place, and the kingdoms below. Heavy emphasis on what I need to know. It might have taken thousands of years to build this world, but I don't need you taking a thousand years to tell me about it. No offense, but I would prefer the apocalypse to that."

"You really are a cheeky pup," he said. "Just for that, I'll be leaving out the juiciest stuff. God knows that I wouldn't want to see you lose your head, but if you fell hard on your arse a few times, I could definitely live with that."

Amy smiled. She stood up and offered him a hand, which he gladly took. As she pulled him to his feet, her smile widened.

"At least if I do fall hard on my ass, I won't need any help getting back up again, grandad."

"That all depends on how hard you fall," he replied, with a teasing grin of his own.

"Where too now?" she asked.

"About ten feet that way."

"Huh?"

"Softer ground, lass. Better suited for telling tales."

"Bettersuited for telling long tales, you mean," she said despondently.