Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Notes: Day 1
Alright for the record: fuck, shit, damn, and blast.

First thing I saw after I woke up was a dragonfly the size of a bike bite the head off a mosquito that itself was as long as my arm. Managed to find a hole that wasn’t the home of some giant bug and got a fire going. I’m writing my thoughts down because I like to talk to myself when I work through things but I’m worried if I do it’ll attract something like a spider or praying (preying?) mantis that’ll bite my head off.
So, let’s work backward from how I got here. I was totally conned by Sash. She told me her afternoon class was cancelled and begged me to pick her and Anne up so they could go out and celebrate Anne’s birthday. Of course, when I got there, I found out she’d told her teacher the two of them had a dentist appointment. I swear Sash has no shame.

Anyway, I took them to the arcade, they stole some shopping carts and did some graffiti while I was distracted, whatever. Things get interesting after we stop for some ice cream shakes. Parking is hell and we’re now super late getting Anne home, so I drop them off to buy the shakes while I look for parking further away. When I finally get back, they’ve sorted out some sort of meet-up with Marcy nearby. Parking’s a little easier this time but I’m getting all kinds of shit from Ms Boonchuy (which I’ll be honest, I totally deserved for letting Sasha trick me into basically kidnapping Anne from school), so I don’t really get there until after Sasha and Anne have done their shopping.
When I met up with them, they were checking out this metal music box. It was old, maybe even pre-twentieth century, and it was covered in swamp motifs including a frog. On it were three gems, one blue, one red, and one green. No idea how they afforded it, even less so now that I know what it does.

Marcy seemed the most excited, eager to see what was inside. We all gathered around as Anne opened it, there was a flash of blue light, and I woke up face down in mud (not sure how I didn’t suffocate) with a sense of nausea like I had just gone on the wildest amusement park ride imaginable. I’ve got a pretty stern resistance to motion sickness so it must have been insane.

Narrowing it down:
• Shrunk?
• Narnia?
• Hallucinating/bad trip?
• Dream?

Just looked outside my cave, night just fell, and I don’t recognize the stars in the sky at all. I can’t pick out any constellations I recognize, I could just be rattled from whatever happened to me though.
FUCK
Moon just rose and yeah. That’s not Luna. Shit’s red/orange and has a totally different crater pattern. Also, much larger in the sky (not quite Bruce Almighty but close).
Just thought of another idea, time travel? Bigger (closer) moon would then make sense and so would the big/gigantic bugs. Colour difference could be explained by different atmospheric conditions. Time travel should be impossible though.
Okay ya, this is not Earth. Heron bigger than the trees just walked by and ate something that looked like a kraken out of the river.
NOTE TO SELF: NEVER GO SWIMMING AGAIN.

Notes: Day 2

Dawn of day two in an alien swamp filled with monstrous creatures that bear only the slightest resemblance to earth animals. I slept like two hours all night, paranoid that a ladybug would crawl into my den and eat my face while I slept. I’m exhausted, hungry, and dehydrated. If I don’t pull myself together soon I’ll die and get eaten by whatever scavengers live in this swamp.
I broke a rock and used it to sharpen a stick, haven’t found any twine-like thing yet so no rock tools for me. Hopefully, I can use this spear to at least make something think twice before it settles on me as its dinner.
Found a bamboo-like plant. Using it as a container for water. I would try my luck at fishing but there are literal water monsters that live in the rivers here, no thank you. I’ve seen loads of berries, but I’d bet anything they’re poisonous. I’ll take them as a last resort but until then I’m going to try hunting, hopefully for something mammallike.
Caught a hedgehog, thing was the size of an actual hog. Almost bit my arm off, but I jammed my spear through its mouth and into its brain.
Hedgehog tastes like rabbit.

Notes: Day 3

I found an equivalent of a north star while watching the sky tonight. Between that and the sun of this planet, I can at least travel without going in circles. Using it, I’ve also figured out I’m at about the same latitude as we were in California. So hopefully that means if the girls were also sent to this hell hole, they won’t be too far from me, or at least they’ll be on the same continent. It’s not much but it’s a start.
I’m going to start heading north and hope this planet is inhabited by something friendly somewhere. Northward has got to be less swampy.

Notes: Day 4

First day of travel, no change in scenery.

Notes: Day 5

I really hate it here.

Notes: Day 6

I see a mountain!!!!!!!!! Finally! Altitude! DRY GROUND!!! LETS GO!!!!!

Notes: Day 7

Gonna reach the mountain tomorrow. I can see the slopes are much more arid, but I also see large shapes flying around it. If I survived a week of walking through a muddy swamp just to be eaten by a mountain bird I’m gonna be pissed.

Notes: Day 8

Kept out of sight of the birds, seems to be a family of grotesquely huge eagles. If I were dumber I would try and tame them but that would be so stupid. I have seen songbirds though, one of them might not be so bad to capture and tame.
The view is pretty good, I can see the swamp is not endless, there’s a desert to the far south and woods to the west.

Notes: Day 10

I hate songbirds.

Notes: Day 15

Over a week now, sorry I haven’t been keeping my logs but nothing really noteworthy happened. AT LEAST UNTIL TODAY.
We got ancient ruins ladies, gentlemen and those of unspecified gender.
Gonna venture into them in the morning, probably not too safe but fuck it I want to see the alien buildings.

Notes: Day 16

Ruins were badass, looks like they were built by some kind of frog alien, with almost high-tech Aztec vibes. If I had an archeology degree I might be able to guess at how old these things are. Given that the stones are crumbling away it’s got to be centuries though. There’s ancient machinery some of which is in decent shape, even managed to jury-rig a charger for my phone, now I can at least have a reliable light source and music to listen to.
No weapons or anything for dealing with the wildlife. I’ll keep looking, these frogs must have had something to keep the giant creatures from eating them.

Chapter Text

With the sun now dipped decisively below the horizon the swamps of Amphibia slipped from the tranquil interim of twilight and into the cool embrace of night. For the diurnally inclined inhabitants of the swamp now was a time of rest and recuperation after yet another long day in the great struggle of life. By now they were all snuggled up in their dens, holes, or laid out on whatever surface they chose to make their nightly resting place, the day’s worries drifting away as they slumbered. All, that is, save for two.

The fly’s wings buzzed with dull energy as it drifted lazily between the tree limbs in search of a worthy resting spot. Having been evicted from its previous perch by a quite irritable ladybug the fly had been forced to wander afield, already half asleep and unused to traversing the moonlit terrain it now found itself in.

Sighting a particularly dense bush jutting out of the undergrowth the insect circled downward, settling atop the foliage where it began probing the branches and leaves for a safe sleeping space.

There was a slightly rustling in the bush but being in the dazed state it was the fly paid it no heed, continuing to ply at the leaves so that it could crawl in deeper.

“Oi!”, a voice, barely above a whisper but hoarse with indignation, emanated from beneath the bush’s branches, “piss off!” The words were followed by the butt of a long length of wood being shoved into the fly’s face, smacking it twice lightly between the eyes.

With an annoyed buzz, the fly retreated and hove off into the darkness. From beneath the bush a young man poked his head out. Satisfied nothing had picked up on the disturbance he withdrew back into his hiding spot.

At eighteen years old, Cameron Andrew Waybright was above average height, confirming to any who asked that he stood at six foot nothing. In truth, Cameron’s last measurement, a couple of years ago, put him at five-eleven and three-quarters. Though it was entirely possible he’d grown the last quarter of an inch since then, it was an answer he felt need not be answered. His athletic build, though slightly emaciated from over two weeks of malnutrition, spoke of a sporty lifestyle. His clothes, a light green West Coast Tech t-shirt he’d picked up in anticipation for his freshmen year and a pair of khaki polyester shorts, were torn and stained with swamp mud. His shoes were similarly worse for wear, having been soaked through and dried over a fire more than a couple of times since his arrival in this alien world.

Even a cursory glance at Cameron confirmed his connection to his little sister Sasha. A crop of thick blonde hair grew wild atop his head, curling around his ears as it grew out of control, from which beneath gleamed the same piercing blue that shone in his headstrong sister’s eyes. Like his sister Cameron’s facial features were sharp and elegant, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline much like their father, though while Sasha had inherited their mother’s more delicate nose, Cameron possessed the more robust schnoz of their father.

Hunched beneath the branches of the bush, lost in an unfamiliar land whose name even was a mystery to him, Cameron glowered towards the mouth of the ruins he’d been camped by for the better part of a day and a night. Setting the spear he’d used to push the fly away to the side, he picked up his notebook and pen which had been sat atop a small bolder at the bush’s base. Tapping the paper with the pen for a moment anxiously Cameron finally let out a sigh of frustration and exasperation, “Ergh, nope, not doing it.”

Stuffing the notebook into his back pocket he grumbled to himself, “fucken’… setting myself up for failure with that one.” His voice took on a mocking tone, “found a ruin that goes down deep into the earth, pretty sure nothing lives in there, gonna check it out at night, hope I don’t get eaten.” He snorted, “Absolute dead body in horror video game energy right there.”

Retrieving his makeshift spear, Cameron glared at the entrance once again. He’d checked around the whole area five times now for tracks, excrement, or any other indication that the ruins were inhabited by some kind of monstrous beast but had found nothing. Now, with a whole day and night cycle passed without anything coming or going the results of his investigation seemed conclusive. Nevertheless, Cameron couldn’t help but feel apprehension as he stared at the dark interior of the entrance.

“This is a bad idea.” He reached down and began striking the flint stone he’d found against the piece of metal he’d recovered from a surface-level ruin a couple of days ago, “like, totally idiotic.” Fire sprang into life on the resin-soaked band of cloth he’d wrapped around a short stick. Holding the torch aloft Cameron began to approach the ruin entrance, “I’m gonna die here.”

The ruins were dark, the air inside them was dead and stale, filled with the scent of floral decay and rot. Warm orange light pierced the gloom, illuminating shattered displays and frayed wires. Cameron moved unsteadily though the alien environment. Symbols of frog hands and lily pads adorned almost every surface, and the machinery had a much more rounded and organic look than the machines of earth.

Bending down he shone his light into an alcove where, presumably a computer had been stored. He looked over the wrecked circuit boards, running his finger over them in search of even a small electric current. No luck. Everything in this building, whatever it was, had been torn asunder by the ravages of time and the elements.

Snorting slightly in frustration he ventured deeper into the complex. After nearly a full day of walking the ruined corridors, he concluded that nothing of use remained. Cameron leaned up against the moss-covered walls, desperately trying to control the building sense of rage and hopelessness within himself.

All that time. Two days. Two whole days I could have spent searching for Sash. Fucking wasted!

With a scream and a kick, his foot shot through the decayed metal of the wall. Immediately realizing he might have just upset the stability of the structure he froze.

And now I’m gonna die in a cave in… wonderful.

After a few seconds of waiting, he breathed a sigh of relief and tried to pull his foot out.

Pressing his hands against the wall he heaved, to his shock the entire wall section fell outward, topping forward and knocking him to the ground. Scrambling out from underneath the ruined piece of metal, Cameron was greeted by the sight of a new corridor, in much better shape than any other he had walked that day.

Gingerly Cameron held up his torch and walked in. After a few seconds of walking, he reached a small alcove. It looked like a living room, done up in alien frog style. An ancient sofa like piece of furniture sat in the corner along with other similar pieces around the room.

More of the strange ancient designs were printed on the wall, though now they were far more legible than the eroded examples Cameron had seen earlier. He peered closer at them. They seemed mostly to be decorative, without much meaning beyond looking pretty but now that he could analyze them in a more complete form he did notice some standout characters. The colours red, green, and blue were oft-repeated. At first, he suspected a connection to the music box that had apparently sent him here but there was also the colour orange included in the mix on this mural, so the connection was likely circumstantial.

The designs once again featured frogs and similar amphibian iconography but one shape that was oft repeated seemed to resemble a great eye. A chill ran unbidden down Cameron’s spine, something about the way the eye seemed to follow him about the room was highly unsettling.

Turning away from the mural, he examined the rest of the room. A locker on the far side of the room immediately drew his attention. It was locked but with a tug he could feel whatever locking mechanism held it shut was on its last legs.

Holding his torch with his teeth so he could still see, Cameron jammed his makeshift spear into the locker’s frame. With a strained motion, he threw his entire body into the haft, with an audible crack the spear snapped, and the locker swung open.

Climbing up from the ground where he had fallen, Cameron shone his torch into the locker. He was greeted by the glint of metal. A sword, or more specifically a sword’s hilt, hung from a peg inside. Disappointed Cameron reached in a pulled out the hilt, it was heavier than he expected it to be. It had no cross guard, only a bulging rounded core that sat atop the grip handle. The handle itself was wrapped in some kind of leather, dark brown with age but well maintained, sturdy, and very comfortable in his hand. The pommel was a golden orb, shiny and spotless. The part that should have connected with the blade was strange, however. It was round and had a strange glassy texture to it.

Cameron’s breath caught in his throat, and he quickly turned it away from his face.

No way…

He examined the hilt more closely. Sure enough, there was a set of runes along the grip. Gently holding the hilt so as not to touch the buttons Cameron it aside. He turned back to the lock and shone the torch inside it once more. Another metallic rewarded his investigation, this time buried underneath a layer of rotting fabric that must have once been a bag of some kind. As he brushed the fabric aside Cameron's features were illuminated by the pale blue glow of light as it emanated from a series of small, tube-like items. He grinned.

In the open-air Cameron examined the battery-like object and sword hilt he’d retrieved. Unscrewing the golden orb at the base of the hilt he dumped out the spent pack contained within. The tech was remarkably simple to operate, likely so that it could be quickly recharged in the heat of battle. Sliding the fresh pack in Cameron reattached the pommel. Then standing up ,he held out the hilt, keeping it pointed well away from his person.

He pressed the first rune, nothing. He made a note in his notebook. He pressed the second rune, much larger than the others, a blazing yellow blade leapt out of the hilt, extending about a meter from the hilt.

A small giggle escaped Cameron’s lips.

It’s an honest-to-god laser sword.

He pressed the second button again, and the blade evaporated.

Throughout the night Cameron fiddled with the runes, the length and power of the blade were all variable. At its lowest setting he could even touch the blade without getting burnt, but it still held and edge which he cut himself on. He didn’t try the highest setting, weary of the battery life and potentially the blast radius.

Chapter Text

Notes: Day 17
These are the recollections of one Jedi Master Cameron Waybright.

Dumb.
I FOUND A LASER SWORD, IT MAKES SWOOSH NOISES AND EVERYTHING!
Still dumb, whatever, rolling with it.
I’m starting to get the very beginnings of hope that I might survive this mess. Now I’ve got food, water, and a weapon to protect myself, it’s like the three basic food groups of survival. If survival was healthy eating. I guess I have been eating somewhat healthily because goddamn I’m starting to look lean and shredded. Where I not covered in swamp goo and mud I’d be ready for beach season back home, guess almost three weeks of extreme exercise and a high protein diet will do that to you.
To anyone other than me that reads this: That might have seemed rather vain and childish but please understand, I’m desperately trying not to think about my sister and her friends who are also probably stuck here like me. They’re only 13, I think I’ve already accepted that I’m going to stumble across some really bad news any day now…

*Numerous erase marks*

I’m not happy.

Notes: Day 18
Found another ruin, this one looks older than the last one. Looks like it was built by the same people though so maybe it’s just taken more weathering. I’m going to dig around in it, at this point I can’t afford to miss out on any tools I can scavenge.

Chapter Text

This ruin was different from the last one Cameron had explored. The ruin he had found the sword in was small and spartan compared to this one like it was some kind of underground house or bunker. This one was big, so big in fact that it made him think of an Ikea. He shuddered slightly, as the thought of being stuck down here forever as he searched in vain for an exit involuntarily crept into his mind. He began leaving hash marks on the walls whenever he made the turn. The ruin was overgrown with moss, water leaked from the ceiling. As water dripped down the back of his neck he shivered and cursed aloud, “What the actual fuck am I doing down here.” He continued creeping forward, still grumbling, “What on earth made me think this was a good idea?” as he rounded the corner he saw part of the structure was caved in. He let out a nervous laugh, “I’m going to die in an ancient ruin built by frog people.”

Checking his watch, he saw that he’d been going for five hours now, finding a dry room he made Camp. No fire, he wasn’t stupid enough to smoke himself out this far underground. Some of the facility’s power seemed to be working so he relaxed against a wall, plugged in his makeshift charger into a socket and began to scroll mindlessly through his phone. He hadn’t downloaded much, but he did have some music downloaded and a couple of his RPG books. Sighing Cameron flipped through them; they’d lost some of their charm now that he was actually in what he would consider to be a fantasy world. Still, he needed something to read. After a few hours, he set a timer for six hours and curled up to get some sleep.

He awoke to the sound of his alarm beeping, quickly moving to shut it off so as not to attract anything else that might live down here. Breakfast was a couple of pieces of hedgehog jerky, unseasoned and tough, but it was fuel. He tried his best to wash his teeth with a twig he had dried out and pounded the end of until it became fibrous. He drank from a canteen he had fashioned from a container he had found at the last ruin, hopefully it hadn’t contained any really toxic chemicals. Stretching he took one last look at his surroundings, “Yeah, that’s the last time I sleep on a solid metal floor.”

The rest of the day saw Cameron digging through scrap heaps as he looked for anything worth salvaging, unfortunately the water damage in this place was bad. Everything metal was rusted beyond use and what wasn’t was buried so deep in piles of sharp rust objects that just looking at it could have given him a wound infection. Frustrated Cameron exited the fourth storage room he had checked today, kicking the wall on the way out.

As he did there was a loud creaking sound that caused him to freeze, his breath caught in his throat, “No, no, no, this is not happening, why am I down here? This was so stupid. I-”

He paused as a hatch fell open to his left, and something metallic rolled out of it. Gingerly Cameron turned his phone light towards the hatch. There on the ground was a misshapen metal tube. He picked it up, examining the object before his eyes lit up in excitement, this was armour. Crouching down he peered into the alcove the hatch had opened from, he grinned devilishly, “oh I am so back right now.”

Behind the hatch was an armoury. Several suits of mechanical armour lined the walls, most rusted but Cameron could spy several pieces that seemed to have been spared. Carefully he stowed the piece that had rolled out, an arm guard, into a sack he had carried, empty, over the last two days.

The roomed proved to be everything Cameron could have ever dreamed of. He found a tool rack, spare parts and even some power cores that held a decent amount of charge still. Carefully collecting the least damaged pieces Cameron began to make his ascent to the surface. Though it took him serval hours he did so with a massive grin the whole time.

Chapter Text

Notes: Day 20
Itinerary of looted goods from the underground ruin:

Complete set of mechanical powered armour x 1 (helmet doesn’t fit)
Multitool equivalent x2
Power cores ~50% charge x 6 (estimated three weeks of rigorous use) (4 months at minimal power)
Repair sealant bottle ~80% full x1
Grappling launcher arm attachment x1 (range ~200m, tensile strength > 200 lbs)
Utility belt, four pouches x1
screw equivalents x23
spare linkages x 12
spare sockets x 8
spare wiring ~ 10 m

All things considered, I would say time very well spent. I had to mix and match quite a few of the suits to get something that fit me. Judging by their form I would guess these were designed to fit something like a humanoid salamander or newt, average height being about 5 feet tall. Helmet was completely the wrong shape, no way I was ever going to be able to fit in one, I saw some of the wiring that went on inside them though. I think I’m going to be missing out on a lot of the utility of this amour. I have managed to get it working however, it has an exoskeleton that makes me strong enough to lift boulders and even makes my running speed higher. Overall, between the sword and the armour I’m ready to take on the swamp now. I’ve fashioned a hood and cloak out of what looked like a camo cloth, hopefully, this can both keep me hidden when I don’t want to be seen and also protect my head and neck if I need to fight something off.
I feel like a wandering knight.

Notes: Day 23
Been a couple of days since I made an entry, apologies. The samp is really not conducive to paper. I do have to say though, travelling with this armour is a treat, I didn’t really appreciate just how much the small boost in speed it gives me was until I got to the top of a hill and saw how far I’d travelled in a single day. My rough estimate is that I’ve doubled my daily covered ground. After weeks of slogging through mud and swamp water, this feels like I’ve managed to hitch a ride with a car. I’ve tried mapping out the area from every hill I climb but I’ve got to admit my abilities as a cartographer are not as good as I thought. I don’t even really know how far I travel every day with my new armour, so any calculations I make based on a normal person’s walking speed are useless. I’ve started a new map, units being days, hopefully, I can keep moving in a straight line east but with how foggy the swamp gets I could be going in circles for days without a clue in the world.

Notes: Day 24
This place is insane. Yesterday I was sweating my skin off and now everything is frozen solid. I came across a town this evening. You’re probably wondering why I’m not celebrating first contact with an alien civilization, or the chance at a warm bed. Well… it didn’t go great and I’m feeling kind of sick because of it. The town was like a classic settler town you might see at a reenactment park, except, of course, everyone was a frog. They were remarkably sophisticated, wearing clothes had tools and quite advanced construction capabilities. Nothing like the ruins I’ve found previously which supports my theory of a post-apocalyptic world, but I am relieved to say that none of the frogs had mutations which is a good indicator for my own health since I think frogs are supposed to be hypersensitive to stuff like that (yay no radiation poisoning!). Unfortunately, this is where the good news ends. It was a horrific sight; everyone, and I mean everyone, was frozen solid. I saw frog children frozen in the middle of playing. The frost must be a freak event, some kind of localized flash freeze event, or the discharge from one of the ruins. Stuff in this world is capable of dimensional travel, mass air conditioning isn’t too far out of the question once that hurdle’s been cleared.

I decided to move on, took some food that might thaw out fine and some other assorted items. I could have hunkered down in one of the frog’s homes but there isn’t a corner of the town that you can’t see a frozen corpse. It was too unnerving for me. I just hope this was extremely localized and I haven’t arrived on this planet right before a mass extinction event took place.

Notes: Day 25
Frost melted today. I put quite some distance between myself and the village, I think I can smell rotting but that’s probably just my imagination or swamp gas. Doesn’t matter I suppose, I’m not going back to find out.
Okay. Gotta get my game face on.
I’ve been in this hell hole for at least 25 days now I need to find Sasha, then Anne and Marcy. Nothing else matters. The village tripled by food stores, and as nice as it is to have bread again, I can’t sit down and enjoy it. They could be anywhere, maybe even on a different side of the planet but I’ll find them, nothing else matters.

*It’s two weeks before another entry is made*

Chapter Text

Cameron gazed out from underneath the hood of his cloak, rainwater dripping down in front of his lidded eyes as he surveyed what lay before him. The tower before him was as unique as every other structure he had found on his travels so far; he’d long given up trying to find a common design philosophy in this land.

It bore some resemblance to eastern style castles back on earth but was made out of stone in a traditional European fashion. He could fire light emanating from several of the windows. There could be no doubt, someone lived here, more likely many someone's. Reaching into his backpack he pulled out a spy glass he had taken from the frozen frog village, wiping moisture from it he put it up to his eye and tried to focus it on the tower.

Toads, wearing armour and carrying weapons. His brow furrowed; one shouldn’t make assumptions about others, but he could recognize danger when he saw it. At the very least the fact they were armed called for caution. Stowing the spyglass he began his approach, on the one hand, he needed to know if these creatures were friendly or not but on the other, they probably wouldn’t take kindly to someone spying on them. He would need to be careful.

As he approached he could hear two of the toads conversing, to his shock he found he could understand them.

“Get anything good?”

“Naw, everyone had their payment ready to go as soon as we got there.”

The other toad turned to his companion indignantly, “You mean you didn’t confiscate anything? Didn’t even get to knock some heads?”

The toad chuckled darkly, “Of course we did, just that… well they didn’t have anything good.” He held up a small object that Cameron couldn’t make out, “knocked two teeth out of this one fellas’ head and all he gave me was this here doodad, any idea what it is?”

His companion shrugged, “no clue, looks like a coin but not one I’ve ever seen before.”

Cameron looked around; no other patrols were nearby. This could be his chance to initiate contact, if things went poorly he could always make a break for it before more toads showed up. Taking a deep breath closed his eyes for a moment as he psyched himself up.

Steeping out from behind his cover he cleared his throat to announce his presence. The guard with the trinket jumped slightly in shock before he and his companion lowered their spears at Cameron, “eww what are you?”

Cameron held up his hands, showing they were empty, “please, I’m not armed, I’m a traveler from a far away land.” He then blinked in surprise, “also, eww?”

The toad snarled back, “Yeah, you look gross being all smooth and hairy like that. Now if you’re a traveler you’ll have travel documents, right? Hand 'em over!”

Cameron reached down into his utility belt and produced his driver’s license, “this is the best I’ve got.”

At the toad’s gesture he tossed the card towards them. The toad bent down a picked it up, all the while his companion kept his spear trained on Cameron. He scratched his chin as he flipped the card over several times, “this supposed to mean something? I asked you for documents and you give me this hard piece of shell or whatever, do you think this is some kind of joke?”

Cameron shrugged trying to look as sincere as possible, “I came here against my will sir, that’s what documents look like where I’m from.”

The other toad leaned in towards his companion, “sounds made up, I say we bring him in and let the captain deal with him.”

Cameron began to realize he’d have to make a decision soon, “listen, I don’t want to cause any trouble, all I wanted to ask you fellas was if you’ve seen anyone like me before. I came here with three others, and I need to find them so we can all go home.”

The toad looked unimpressed, “rules are rules creature, we’ve got to report this to our captain, and as an unidentified person trespassing on toad tower land you’ve got to come with us.”

Cameron weighed his options, trying to stall for time, “well that all seems very reasonable and fair I just… uh…”

“You just what pink skin?” The toads began advancing, spears raised.

Cameron let out a sigh, “alright, guess if I’m committing to this…” he raised his hand and pointed at the toads dramatically, “take me to your leader.”

Cameron was escorted into the Tower flanked by the two toads. Inside was the tower was the picture of decaying grandeur, the eastern theme continued with the artwork and carvings that decorated the halls. The place was filled with toads, Cameron estimated that it contained a garrison of at least three hundred. He grimaced, maybe this wasn’t the smartest move.

As he was paraded through the tower toads stopped what they were doing and watched him pass, most falling in behind his escorts, eager to see what was going on. By the time they reached the central chamber at least three dozen toads were crowed behind him.

Cameron gazed around the room. It was a typical throne room sort of deal, long ornate carpet leading up to a throne flanked by a wooden gallery on each side for spectators. Sitting on the throne was a toad adorned in something approach samurai armour, with a matching hairstyle. He glared at Cameron’s escorts, “What is this thing, and why have you brought it before me?”

Cameron chimed in, bowing his head in what he hoped was a respectful greeting, “I’m a lost traveler from a faraway land my lord, I am a human from planet Earth. Yours is the first intelligent beings I’ve come across on my travels. I ask only for information regarding others of my kind who I have lost track of.”

The toad and his entourage burst into laughter, after several minutes the toad wiped a tear from his eye and gave Cameron a toothy grin, “you speak well for a beast out of the wild creature, what is your name?”

Cameron raised his head, “Cameron Waybright sir.”

The toad picked at his teeth, “well Cameron Waybright, I am Captain Bufo of the East Tower.” He reached down to the side of his throne and produced a booklet and flipped through it, “and according to my orders, anyone without proper documentation must be seized for questioning.”

Cameron’s breath caught in his throat, “captain I do have documentation, I presented to the guards outside.”

The toad Cameron had handed his drivers license to held it up, “yeah he gave me this little thing, doesn’t look like any royal seal I’ve ever seen.”

Cameron quickly realized what was about to happen, “I was brought to this land against my will, I’m more than happy to apply for documentation but as I said you’re the first people I’ve come across, I couldn’t possibly have known I need documentation or even where to get it.”

Captain Bufo looked at the card he had been handed unmoved, “sorry Waybright, no exceptions. Kimba, take him to the cells to await questioning.”

As Cameron was dragged away his fear turned into anger, “This is ridiculous, you’re going to throw me in a cell because I came to you for help?”

The Captain laughed, “you really aren’t from around here are you? Toad tower doesn’t help people Waybright, we lock them up.”

As he was dragged through the halls of Toad Tower by Kimba, Cameron took stock of his predicament. Clearly, these toads had never seen a human before, they also clearly weren’t the brightest bunch since he hadn’t been searched yet. A plan formed in Cameron’s mind as he chatted with Kimba, “Where are you taking me?”

The toad grunted, annoyed, “Weren’t you listening to the captain? The cells idiot.”

Cameron wiggled his hand down to the hilt of his laser sword, “and how long until I can get my documents?”

Kimba laughed darkly, “Unless the king pays us a surprise visit, never, and since newts don’t come out this far I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Right, well I think I’ll be on my way then.” Cameron thumbed the ignition button on the sword, neatly slicing his bonds.

All Kimba had time for was a slow, “What?” before a gauntleted fist slammed into his jaw like a missile, sending him tumbling into a wall.

Cameron quickly dragged the unconscious toad into a side alcove. Then he turned to the window, it was a small slit window, probably made to fire arrows out of. Much too small to climb though. Cranking the dial on his sword he let the energy build. Stabbing the blade into the rock wall he leaned against it, dragging out a circle. Reaching up to the window he pulled inward, causing the disc he had cut out of the wall to slide onto the ground with a soft thump. As he looked out the hole he had just cut out he heard a voice behind him, “What the?!”

Two toad sentries were walking down the hallway, raising their spears they charged him shouting aloud, “Escape! Escape! The prisoner has escaped!”

Cursing Cameron turned to face them, swinging his sword in a swift arc he sliced their spear tips off. The lead one rushed him as the other circled, looking for an opening. Cameron extinguished his sword, not wanting to add murder to his growing list of crimes. Dealing the lead toad a swift uppercut he ducked a haymaker thrown by the other, landing a gut punch against him as he did. As the two staggered back Cameron took his chance, firing the grapnel hook at one of the toads he ran towards the hole. The grapnel opened like a claw, wrapping around the Toad’s face. His companion ran over to him, desperately trying to pull the contraption off.

Cameron gave them a grin, “You’d better hold on tight.” With a shout, he jumped out into the rainy night. As the grapnel line began to tighten, he landed his feet against the side of the tower and began running down. He heard a hiss as an arrow narrowly missed his head. He was near the ground now, and with the push of a button, he recalled the grapnel, falling the last few feet. Springing across the courtyard he found himself face to face with Captain Bufo. Cameron’s power armour-enhanced right hook sent the captain into a cartwheel, completely caught off guard. As he ran Cameron called behind him, “Listen, I can respect someone upholding the laws of the land!” he paused in front of the main gate, activating his sword, “but yours are stupid!” with a heave, he sliced the lock in two and pushed the gate open.

Dodging arrows Cameron sped off into the night, soon disappearing from view. Atop the battlements, Captain Bufo messaged a growing duck egg on his temple. He glared out into the night, heedless of the rainfall. A toad ran up to him, panting heavily, “Captain do we give chase?”

Bufo snarled, “No way we’re catching that beast on foot.” He glanced down at the driver’s license still in his possession. He glared at the photo of the human staring blankly back at him, “Make copies of this. I want this criminal found, dead or alive.”

Chapter Text

Cameron slowed his pace, coming to a halt in the stillness of sunrise in the swamp. Leaning against a redwood he hung his head. He’d been running for over four hours now, a feat he hadn’t even thought himself capable of. Still, it had had the desired effect. Thanks to the exoskeleton in his amour, he was over a day’s trek from the toad tower. In the swamp a trail would disappear in a matter of hours, they’d never be able to follow him here.

As a consequence of this however, he was exhausted. Even with the assistance of the armour his limbs felt like they were made of lead. He tried to push off of the tree and continue forward but all he could manage was to fall against it, sliding down until he was sitting slumped at it’s base. The eerie quiet was intoxicating and soon his eyelids began to droop, “just… a quick… nap…”

As his vision blurred Cameron caught sight of a bug, about the size of a cat saunter up to him. It was lanky and walked on two legs with large forelimbs. Cameron smiled weakly at it, unconsciousness quickly approaching, “hey there… little fella… what are you?” then his head lulled forward, fast asleep.

A piercing pain startled Cameron from his nap. Rubbing sleep from his eyes he gazed skyward, about midday, he’d been asleep for about five hours. The pain returned; something was scratching his leg. Turning his attention to the limb Cameron yelped in shock. A young praying mantis was chewing on his boot. The determined young mantis had actually managed to chew through the tough body suit at his ankle and was now trying to eat his foot. Cameron’s shock quickly turned to anger, “get off!” With a kick powered by indignant rage and disgust, he sent the mantis flying, letting out a shriek as it sailed through the air.

Cameron assessed the damage, the tear was very slight, he could probably stitch it shut with some of the spare wire he had. He rubbed his temple, “at least it was only a mantis. Could you imagine if it was anything that travelled in packs?”

As he spoke the sun went behind some clouds, darkening his immediate surroundings, “ah damn, I was enjoying that, please don’t be about to rai-”. His complaints were cut short as he turned to face the sky and came face to face with a much larger mantis that was descending the tree towards him, primed to pounce.

The two froze, staring into each others’ eyes as they tried to think of their next course of action. Cameron let out a loud curse, rolling to the side as the adult mantis’ forelegs narrowly missed pinning his head to the tree. As he rolled, he whipped out his laser sword, the weapon springing into life with a hiss, he swung the blade. The mantis scamped back but the blade clove clear through the side of the tree, ripping out a sizable chunk. Cameron scrambled to his feet as the mantis lunged towards him, forelegs outstretched, ready to kill. Bringing the blade up in a sweeping motion Cameron bisected its forelegs, but he could not stop its momentum.

The mantis landed atop of him, it’s mandibles snapping inches away from his face. His sword useless at such ranges Cameron dropped it to the mossy floor. Gripping either mandible he pulled with all his might. With a sickening crack the mantis’ head was torn in half covered Cameron in green viscera.

Coughing and spitting Cameron struggled once again to his feet, he retrieved his sword and looked around wildly for more mantises. Sure enough, the flash of green caught his eyes. At least three more were moving within the underbrush, circling to attack. Images of two mantis outflanking him as another drew his attention flashed in Cameron’s mind. He snarled, ‘not today’.

He darted forward and stabbed into one of the moving bushes. His questing blade was rewarded with gurgling and a hiss. Swiping foliage aside Cameron brought his blade down again on the wounded mantis, severing its head from its body. Hearing a rustling from behind Cameron spun on a dime and fired his grappling launcher. The mantis caught the claw with its foreleg, seemingly satisfied by its performance until the wire went taught and Cameron came flying through the air towards it, sword point aimed at its thorax. The blade cleaved the mantis cleanly in half. Calling back his grappling claw Cameron’s eyes darted around the clearing, looking for movement. The last mantis was creeping up on him from the left. Turning, Cameron dropped into a balanced stance ready for its next move.

As it drew near the mantis stopped, seemingly becoming distressed it began backing up. Cameron snorted, “Oh no, you don’t get to run.” With a quick flick, he sent his grappling claw streaking towards the mantis as it turned to run. Catching one of the creature’s legs he began reeling it in. The mantis let out a shriek and began biting at the wire that was drawing it to its doom, realizing escape was impossible it raised its forelegs for a fight but a single decisive thrust from Cameron made it fall limp.

Wiping green fluid from his face Cameron grinned, “There, not so tough now.” He was about to deliver another witty one-liner but the sound of a branch snapping behind him caused him to whirl around, blade ready. All he could see was red. A savage blow sent him flying. Landing in a shallow puddle of swamp water he shook himself, trying to regain his senses as a large red mass charged towards him. Rolling to the side Cameron fired the grappling claw at a nearby tree, activating the line just in time to pull him out of the way of his rampaging foe. A gigantic red mantis lunged past him, snapping a tree with its foreleg at a spot where his head had been not a second ago. He didn’t have much time to process this however as the beat turned and charged again. Cameron brought his blade up, ready to slice through the mantis’ foreleg as he had done before. To his shock the mantis feinted, delivering a powerful blow with the side of its leg to his side.

Flying into another tree Cameron began retreating. Running between trees and shrubs he narrowly avoided attacks from the powerful insect. Firing his grappling launcher at a distant rock Cameron dragged himself through the swamp at a breakneck pace, the mantis growing distant, unable to keep up with his mobility. Laughing in a mixture of relief and terror Cameron caught himself on the rock. Resting for a moment, satisfied the Mantis couldn’t climb up here. The rock was in the middle of a large open wetland. Cameron reached down and pulled out his water canteen. He took a look out over the wetland. Calm serene, dragonflies and mosquitos buzzed lazily through the air, alligators sunned themselves, giant eels twisted in the shallows, large moths with mouths filled with teeth watched him hungrily, giant wasps hummed with anger, large snakes glared at him, lamprey turned their mouths to him, spiders rubbed their hands in a mock glee, a large scaled head resembling that of a snapping turtle was looking him right in the eye…

Cameron dropped the canteen, the silence of the wetland broken by the noise of it clattering upon the massive turtle’s shell he had thought was a rock. From the woods behind him, the mantis burst out. All eyes turned to it and then back to Cameron. Cameron’s horror and fear melted away as he realized what was transpiring, “are you kidding me?!” His voice ran out loud and clear as the horde of nightmare creatures crawled towards him, “I can’t be the only thing all of you want to eat?! This is such bullshit!”

Standing up Cameron drew his sword, “Alright then, if this is how it’s going down.” He cranked the power to maximum, feeling the hilt vibrate as it shone like a newborn star, “I’m going to kill you all. I’m going to kill you all, I’m going to find my sister, I’m going to find Sasha, I’m going to find Anne, I’m going to find Marcy, I’m going to bring them home, and then I’m going to burn this hell hole to the ground and boil the water with matches and newspaper if I have to!”

With a running leap, Cameron sailed through the air, burying his sword up to the hilt in the turtle’s head. Within seconds the energy from the sword caused it to explode like a water balloon sending chunks of reptile and viscera across the assembled horde. Cameron was likewise sent flying, screaming in rage as he did so. A moth snatched him out of the air, reaching up he gripped its throat and squeezed, his gauntlet hand crushing its windpipe. Hurtling to the ground Cameron landed atop a spider, bringing his foot down on its head. Another spider jumped at him, with a wide swing of his blade Cameron separated the arachnid’s head from its torso. A host of smaller beetle and centipede-like beings surged towards him, trying to bury him in their bodies. Cameron swung his sword, punched kicked and stomped like a madman until the floor was a sickly greenish-brown colour from the fluids.

Seeing a crocodile the size of a bus waddle out of the water Cameron charged. As the croc bit down at him Cameron held his blade aloft, piercing the roof of its mouth he ran forward towards its gullet. With a heave, he pulled sideways tearing the croc’s upper jaw clear of its body. Clambering up on top of the convulsing beast Cameron ripped one of its eyes out before flinging the organ at a wasp that was making a dive attack against him. The eye collided with the insect, exploding on contact and causing the wasp to fall into the water. Leaping down Cameron grasped the wasp’s head with a single hand, squeezing until there was a pop. Reading down Cameron sliced off the dead wasp’s stinger. A river lamprey launched at him, deftly Cameron stabbed the stinger into its neck, causing it to fall back convulsing as it bled out. An eel surged up from underneath Cameron, it wrapped around his legs sending a powerful electric jolt through his body. Bellowing in pain Cameron grabbed the eel, ripping it off him he whirled it around his head. Releasing the fish he watched as is struggled helplessly in the air before slamming into a rock and falling still.

The mantis was upon him, and with a shriek it swiped at him, carefully avoiding his blade. Cameron dove forward and tackled the beast, raining blows down upon its face. The mantis furiously scratched and bit at Cameron, its movements slowing as its life drained away. A powerful cry filled the devastated wetland. A heron, the size of a tree landed its wings beating so hard the force of the wind lifted Cameron off the ground. Quickly, Cameron aimed and fired his grapnel claw, the device found purchase on the heron’s long neck. The bird screeched and pecked at Cameron, narrowly missing him. Its mate landed and the two gigantic birds began pecking at scratching at Cameron.

Pulling with all his might Cameron brought the first heron into a hunched position. Running he jumped over its neck, causing the grapnel line to wind around it. Bracing against a rock he heaved on the line. The Heron fell to the ground thrashing. Its mate, now distressed struck down at Cameron, striking him in the back. Falling down into the muddy water Cameron removed his gauntlet with the grapnel claw, jamming it securely into a rocky crevice he turned to the heron that had struck him while the other floundered. He snarled up at the towering monstrosity, “I’m going to turn you into a pillow!”

The heron lunged, snapping Cameron up in its beak. Cameron stabbed furiously at the heron’s eyes and face, opening up gashes and blinding it in one eye. With a flick, the heron closed its beak causing Cameron to vanish from view. The heron was still for a second then it started choking. Cameron’s blade appeared out of its neck. In a shower of blood, the heron’s head came clean off. Cameron was covered from head to toe in gore and mud, his face barely visible beneath it all. He turned to face the remaining heron, walking slowly back to where his gauntlet was wedged. Gripping the gauntlet Cameron yanked, pulling the heron towards him. The bird struggled desperately, convulsing as it fought for air.

Cameron began dragging it, pulling the massive avian out of the wetland and onto the shore. Reattaching the gauntlet Cameron glared down into one of the massive yellow eyes of the heron, “time for you to go the way of the mammoth.” The smell of burning feathers filled the air as Cameron brought his sword down.

Taking stock of his handiwork Cameron wiped blood, sweat, and mud from his face. The wetland had turned from a serene, picturesque setting into a warzone. Bodies of the slain creatures lined the bank and floated in the water. Taking a seat Cameron waited for the adrenaline to wear off, focusing on the pounding of his heart as it made a drum-like sound in his ears.

He glanced again at the heron and started chucking, then his chuckling grew into full-on laughter as the enormity of what had just happened took its toll on him. He wiped a tear from his eye, “damn that was crazy…” Suddenly his laughter stopped, as reality came crashing down around him, “fuck!” he pressed his forehead into his hands, “fuck!” he sat there for what felt like an hour as the numerous times he’d almost died flashed in his mind over and over again.

As the panic attack subsided, he looked again at his surroundings, smelling the hot odour of fresh blood, “okay…” he looked down at his hands, they were covered in blood and insect goo Aww shit, did I…” dunking his hands in the water and scrubbing them with sand he shook them dry and opened his phone’s camera.

“aw man, how do you get bug guts out of a beard?”

Chapter Text

Notes: Day ?? (at least 45)
I have officially lost track of time. I couldn’t find a place to sit down and write while I was trekking through the deeper swamp. The only rest I got was at night and I couldn’t risk a fire out here so I couldn’t even read what I would be writing. All in all, not a good scene.

A lot has happened since my last entry, I met the locals for real this time, and they weren’t dead! There was this tower occupied by anthropomorphic toad creatures. Seems like it was some kind of frontier military base. They called it east tower. They were going to lock me away, for pretty much forever I think, so I got out of there as soon as I could.

This does give me something to work with now though. If this is east tower, it stands to reason that this is the eastern extent of whatever kingdom (they referred to a king) I’ve ended up in.

(Side note, it seems whatever brought me here has universal translator mechanics, either that or England really did colonize the universe.)

So, like I was saying this gives me an idea. These toads clearly arrest anyone and everyone that doesn’t fit the norm, which means if they found any of the girls, they’d probably lock them up in a tower like this. I’m going to head west, either I’ll come across west tower or whatever this Newtopia place is. If I’m lucky the girls are already there and if I’m not I can at least get maps so I can actually navigate this world.

Oh also, I eviscerated an entire swamp’s worth of monsters, terrifying and cool.

Chapter Text

Cameron gazed through his spyglass, squinting hard. The item had taken quite a beating over his travels, covered in scratches and dents, not to mention the noticeable amount of water inside it that would fog it up on a hot day. Normally this would have bothered Cameron significantly, but he had other matters on his mind. He’d been in this strange land for almost two months now and hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his sister Sasha, Anne or Marcy. That was not to say he’d given up, if anything he’d become more absorbed into his mission. Ruins and strange plants were scattered around his feet. Weeks ago, he would have taken the time to examine them, captivated by the strange world but now he was focused.

Shaking the spyglass to try and loosen the water within he stored it in his pack, before him was another village. This one however was bustling with life, smoke billowed from chimneys, and he could see frogs walking between thatched houses. Securing his hood around his head to cover his face he began his approach. As he neared the outskirts of the village, he saw a frog trundling a cart down the road carrying freshly harvested vegetables. He was whistling a tune. Cameron raised his hand in greeting, careful not to reveal his face to frighten the frog, “Good day sir, what’s the name of this place that I find myself in?”

The frog clearly hadn’t been paying attention, he jumped a clean three feet straight up. Cameron cursed under his breath and lightened his voice, “I’m so sorry to startle you, I hope I didn’t frighten you too badly sir.”

Quickly regaining his composure, the frog picked his cap off the ground, placed it back atop his head and tugged it, “Oh nay bother, I should pay attention to my surroundings.” He gestured at the village, “This here’s Croakwood upon Slime.”

Cameron had to stifle a giggle, disguising it with a cough, “I hate to keep troubling you sir, but do you know where a traveller might find a drink and a hot meal?”

The frog smiled winningly, “Oh nay bother. Go three doors down on the left, room and board too if’n you fancy it.”

Cameron nodded, “Many thanks, sir.”

“Padsworth mate.”

It took Cameron a second to realize the frog had just said his name, “Oh yes sorry, Cameron Waybright. A pleasure to make your acquaintance Padsworth.”

Padsworth nodded once, “Take care, Waybright.” He then passed Cameron and continued to trundle his cart down the road.

Cameron stood and watched him go for a moment, mumbling under his breath, “The first normal interaction in months… with a frog named Padsworth. There’s no way this place is real.”

Cameron had to bend over slightly as he stepped into the tavern. A bell attached to the door rang out announcing his entrance. A female newt stood behind the counter cleaning a wooden tankard. She looked up, “Well ain't you a biggun.”

Cameron chuckled, “So I’m told.”

The newt set the tankard down, “Welcome to Newtwhistle sir, My name’s Nora, what can I getcha.”

Cameron paused, “Well… I should be upfront about this, I’m a traveller from a faraway land, I have money but none that you’d recognize I’m sure…”

Nora rubbed her chin. She shook her head and smiled apologetically, “Sorry mate, I can’t just hand out food and drink for free mate. But I tell ya what, the usual crowd’s about to roll up here, they’re all farmers. I’m sure one of them would pay for your fare if you promised to do some chores for them tomorrow.”

Cameron nodded, “Fair enough. I don’t suppose water’s free? I’ve grown quite tired of boiled swamp water.”

Nora reached down beneath the counter and produced a pitcher, “Take as much as ya want, make yourself comfortable.” She turned back to her cleaning.

Cameron sequestered himself in the back of the Newtwhistle, keeping his hood drawn. Given all the creatures that lurked in the swamp if he paraded around as openly as a human, he’d at least draw suspicion. This was a far safer option.

He didn’t have to wait long for the regulars to roll in. Over two dozen frogs soon filled the establishment. Cameron steeled himself, he hadn’t had any social interaction in months let alone soliciting for work. Just as he was about to stand and begin perusing the establishment a frog burst through the door waving his arms and shouting, “Monster! Monster in the fields! It took Tad!”

Instantly the Newtwhistle erupted into chaos, frogs were shouting and arguing.

“Grab the pitchforks!”

“Are you mad?”

“We’ve got to save little Tad!”

“Poor kid’s probably already dinner!”

“I’m not chasing after a monster!”

One of the frogs gestured over to Cameron, “Bet the big fella wouldn’t even go after a snake that big.”

Sensing an opportunity Cameron stood up, “How big are we talking?”

Nora waved him down, hissing in his ear, “I get you want food, but going after that there snake’s suicide. Coils as thick as a tree trunk, long as the village. It’s taken four others this month alone.”

Cameron shrugged, “Is it bigger than a heron?”

Nora thought for a moment, “I guess not.”

Cameron nodded, “No problem then.” He turned to the frogs, clearing his voice to get their attention. As they continued shouting Cameron took out his sword hilt and rapped it into a metal plate, “Let me speak!” his voice rang out around the tavern. The shouting ceased immediately. Cameron laid out his proposal, “I’ll go after this snake, can I get a volunteer to pay for my food and board if I do?”

One of the frogs, a short and slightly plump fellow stepped forward. He wore a fine suit with gold trim, “my boy, as mayor of Croakwood I can assure you. Should you feel the serpent I’ll give you enough gold so that you could buy your own tavern.”

Cameron reached out his hand to the mayor, “Consider it done sir.”

Cameron picked up the serpent’s trail easily. The size of the creature made its tacks quite simple to follow. He left his travelling supplies with Nora, taking only his sword as he tracked the gargantuan serpent. He moved with haste, the villagers had told him a tadpole, named Tad of all things, had been taken by the snake. Cameron held out little hope for the child, nevertheless, he was determined to at least try to save him. A shout caught his attention, a child’s voice.

Cameron ploughed ahead coming upon a scene out of a dark fairy tale. There was Tad, shouting and screaming as he was dangled above the maw of the serpent. The snake was at least a hundred feet long, wrapped around a tree trunk that true to Nora’s words was about equivalent size. Cameron’s horror at Tad’s predicament was momentarily set aside as he realized the snake lacked fangs. It wasn’t venomous. Stepping out of the brush Cameron fired his grapnel claw at Tad. It locked around the tadpole’s waist. Seeing something interfering with its dinner the snake hissed and turned to Cameron. It tightened its coils around Tad. Cursing Cameron activated his sword and swept forward. The snake was far more agile than he’d reckoned, weaving around his swipes, to avoid serious damage. It was as the fight ensued that Cameron noticed he had an audience; the townsfolk had followed him out here.

He turned his attention back to the snake; he couldn’t worry about spectators right now. The snake bit down on his sword arm. Though its teeth couldn’t penetrate the armour it was not a pleasant feeling. Snarling Cameron landed a punch directly on the snake’s snout causing it to release him. Striking forward Cameron raised his blade to bisect the serpent but as he brought the blade down it flickered out of existence. The audience gasped. Cameron swore.

Fumbling for a spare battery Cameron was too slow to avoid the snake’s tail as it slammed into his side sending him flying. With a sinister hiss, it proclaimed its victory over its foe. It then turned back to its meal. Cameron raised his head just in time to watch Tad disappear into the snake’s gullet. He still hadn’t hooked up the spare battery but now he was out of time, only one course of action remained. Cameron pressed the activation rune on his left wrist causing the grapnel to retract. Like an arrow,w Cameron was sent flying towards the snake’s maw as he was pulled towards Tad. Landing squarely between the snake’s jaw he heaved with all his might but the tadpole wouldn’t re-emerge. With a final curse, Cameron took a deep breath and slid down into the snake’s mouth.

Mayor Greenleaf placed his cap over his heart, “foolish, but brave to the end.”

Nora pushed the mayor, “Forget a eulogy we gotta get out of here.” The serpent, clearly hungry for more turned to the onlookers.

Then it paused. A light emanated from its stomach. In a shower of blood and guts, Cameron surged forth, Tad clutched under his arm. The snake’s eyes rolled back into its head, and it collapsed. The towns folk charged forward, cheering. The cheers were cut short however as they noticed something had changed. Cameron’s hood had been pulled back.

Setting Tad down gently Cameron pulled his hood back over his head. It stunk of snake innards, and he could feel stomach juices trickling down his neck, he shivered. Tad rushed over to the crowd, jumping into the arms of a female frog Cameron surmised to be his mother. The young tadpole was crying inconsolably.
Cameron cleared his throat with a cough, both to break the silence of the awkward stand-off and to get some slime out of his throat. He addressed the mayor, “I-”

He was cut short by shouts from the villagers.

“Get out of here beast!”

“You’re not wanted here monster!”

“Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of!”

Cameron had expected the response, but the insults and rejection still stung. He held up his hands, “You got it, I’m going. Could I please have my belongings back?”

Nora stepped forward, holding his backpack. She turned to the mayor who had remained silent throughout the ordeal. She glared at him, “Well Greenleaf? Are you gonna give Cameron what he’s owed?”

The mayor seemed unphased by her anger, holding his hand up he waved at the crowd for their attention, “Ladies and gentle frogs, I ask you to restrain your humors for a brief moment so that I might give my two cents.” The crowd simmered down but Cameron could still hear murmurs of discontent, as well as hand gripping farm implements tightly. Greenleaf continued, “In times like these we must choose what character we display to the outside world, would you have it said that Croakwood frogs go back on their word?”

There were unhappy murmurs of no.

“Would you have it said that Croakwood frogs cheat those that help them?”

More nos.

The mayor daintily plucked the backpack from Nora’s hands, he snapped his fingers and a small frog carrying a sizable sack ran forward. Mayor Greenleaf opened the sack so that Cameron could see the contents, gold coins, “this is the standard payout, as dictated by our village charter offered to all knights-errant that do service to the village. Is this to your satisfaction sir Waybright?”

Cameron bowed his head in affirmation, “Most satisfactory your honour, you are a just and generous being.”

Greenleaf placed the sack in the backpack and threw it towards Cameron, who caught it with an outstretched hand, “then let our business be concluded. Sir Cameron Waybright, as representative of the village of Croakwood I must ask that you vacate the premises of our village under charges of disturbing the peace. Should you wish to return here you will need to submit a letter two weeks prior to your arrival for approval of your visit.”

Cameron nodded, as alluring as a proper bed and sheets would be he had no desire to stick around here any longer than he had to. Shouldering his pack he turned and trudged away into the swamp once more, the villagers watching him as he went.

Cameron made camp under a fallen sycamore, the tree created an environment similar to that of a natural cave, obscuring any flame he lit and disguising the smoke with its branches above. Opening his pack, he was delighted to find a loaf of bread, a knife and a jar of fruit preserve. No doubt Nora had slipped him a few goodies before she had handed over the backpack. He noticed another new item, a sheet of paper folded up beneath the loaf. Carefully unfolding it he gasped aloud. It was a map, crude and scarce in detail but most definitely a map of the continent he found himself on. It had six major landmarks: four towers, Newtopia, and Croakwood. He grinned in a slightly demented manner.

Totally called it: east, west, north, and south toad towers.

“Whatcha smiling at? It’s just a map.”

Cameron turned, reaching for his sword but froze when he saw Tad sitting on a tree limb above him, looking down at his camp. Cameron’s brow furrowed, “what are you doing all the way out here? Do you want to get eaten by a snake again?”

Tad shrugged, “That was the only snake for miles, he chased off any others.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, what are you doing out here?”

Tad wiggled his feet bashfully, “I uh, wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

Cameron’s hard exterior melted, Ohh… uh… of course, anytime.”

Tad shook his head wildly, “Once is good enough for me thanks.”

Cameron chuckled, “I suppose it is. You don’t seem as put off by me as the others, am I not scary anymore?”

The tadpole shrugged once more, “You’re just ugly, why would that scare me.”

Cameron grinned, “Did you consider that you guys might be the ugly ones and I might be the only pretty person on er…” He scratched his beard, “Here Tad, I’ve actually got a question for you. What do I call… this…” he gestured around.

“The swamp? This is Croakwood Swamp.”

“No, I mean the whole planet.”

“What’s a planet?”

Cameron rubbed his temples as he struggled to find words the young tadpole would connect with, “I mean, what do you call the world? What is Croakwood Swamp a part of?”

Tad rolled his eyes, “Amphibia duh, were you born under a rock or something?”

Ignoring the comment Cameron scribbled the name at the top of the map, “Amphibia huh? Not like the most creative name for a world.”

“You come from a different world?”

Cameron flamboyantly tucked the map into his utility belt, “Yes I do.”

“What’s it called?”

“Ear-” Cameron paused, displeasure plain on his face, “Terra, it’s called Terra.”

“What does Tara mean? Is it someone’s name?”

Cameron waved his hand, “That’s enough questions, it’s getting dark, go back home. Also…” He reached down and ripped out a page from his journal, writing the letters I.O.U. He handed it to Tad, “Take this to Nora at Newtwhistle, tell her I am deeply grateful for her gifts.

Sighing Tad clambered down the tree, taking off at a jog he waved back at Cameron, “Bye Mr. Sir knight errant… uh… Cameron Waybright… um…Sir!”

Cameron waved as he watched the tadpole disappear into the swamp. He turned back to the fire, “I wonder if I can put this on my resume…”

Chapter Text

Notes: early Fall 1.

Giving up on the whole day thing, too much happened in those first few days and if I’m honest I was neve that good about keeping a consistent diary. If When I get back to Earth Terra (being a Terran sounds cool), I’ll find out exactly how long I’ve been gone.

Noteworthy discoveries:

The world (or at least the continent) is called Amphibia

There are four toad towers in each cardinal direction centred on the capital city of Newtopia.

Newts seem to be the merchant/administrative caste, frogs the farmer/rural caste, and toads the military/police caste. Rigid caste systems like this definitely fit with the archaic life these amphibian people lead. It’s quite sad but I think I should follow some kind of noninterference policy here, at least until I know more. Getting myself and the girls caught up in some kind of revolution or civil war does not appeal to me.

I’ve adjusted my plan somewhat; I’ll try to get to Newtopia and go through whatever form of customs they deem necessary there. From the name alone it sounds like a much more advanced society than the villages and tower I’ve come across so far. My hope is at least someone there might hear my case, best case scenario I get an audience with the king as a representative from a foreign land, royal courts love oddities (I hope).

After that, it’s just a manner of visiting each toad tower and checking their prisons for my sister and the other girls. I can almost certainly count on Marcy and Sasha getting put in there. Marcy obliviously, and Sasha well… it’s insanely easy to conjure an image of her calling a toad slimy to mind. I've never known her to keep her thoughts to herself.

Anne… well Anne has a better head on her shoulders than either Marcy or Sasha. That’s not to say she’s responsible enough to stay completely out of trouble, only that her parents definitely taught her good values.

I hope this is really captivating stuff to whoever reads this because this is literally my only hobby now. No books, no video games, not even a deck of cards for solitaire. All I’ve got is this notebook and two pens to keep myself occupied for who knows how long.

Wasting ink on this bullshit.

Notes: early Fall 2.

Okay about a week after my last note, leaves are starting to turn and it’s definitely getting chillier. Nothing like that flash freeze a while back but still, I’m getting cold. I’ve hit three more villages since my last entry. Swampstone, Leapford, and Ribbitvale. The former two were quite similar to Croakwood, rustic rural townships. I kept a low profile, didn’t want a repeat of Croakwood. Turns out the gold Mayor Greenleaf gave was indeed enough to buy a house so I’m actually quite well off for the time being, able to pay room and board without much sweat even able to afford the privacy fee when I ask for it.

I’ve still been taking jobs as a knight errant, sounds corny but people ask fewer questions when I introduce myself that way. I’ve even purchased a steel helmet that fits my head. Struggled a bit to get the blacksmith to acquiesce to my demands but a little extra gold and the clearing out of a mantis infestation at his mine made the deal go through smoothly.

Ribbitvale was something else entirely though. Big houses, luxurious yards, parks, fountains, bath houses. It was all quite impressive. Of course I couldn’t really enjoy most of the amenities but I did get a room with running hot water. I gotta say, I might have actually gotten a bit high taking a hot shower after months in a swamp.

Needless to say, I loaded up on supplies at Ribbitvale. I’m down to about a quarter of the gold I started with but between the new clothes, the comb, the clean water bottle and the outdoor soap I regret nothing. I even managed to get some dental floss and a real toothbrush!

I left Ribbitvale three days ago, I’m coated in mud and insect guts. I miss it already.

I’ve been able to fill out my map more. The road to Newtopia lies just ahead, I’m told there’s a weigh station town called Stony Gulch that's very welcoming to travellers. I sense a tourist trap.

Chapter Text

“Alright, you lot, no funny moves or the tadpole goes for flying lessons.” The leader of the toad brigands, a particularly ugly orange specimen covered in spiked armour, held Polly over the cliff ledge. The brigands had jumped the Fwagon while Anne and the Plantars were making breakfast seizing Polly from her bucket before the rest of the family could act. The early morning fog that blanketed the region had covered their approach completely. Even now Anne could barely see more than twenty feet in any direction. The two parties were in a deadly standoff.

“Hey easy now, we don’t have any money! I’m completely broke!” Hop Pop kept his hands up as he stood up from the riding perch on the Fwagon.

The toad snorted, “Funny, the folks we robbed yesterday said the same.”

Poly squirmed in the toad’s grasp, “Let go of me! I'll rip your arms off!”

The toad scoffed and loosed his grip slightly on the tadpole's tail causing her to slip down a few inches in his grip, "a very poor choice of words my dear, are you sure that's what you want me to do?"

Polly gazed down into the misty depths of the canyon below, "on second thought, maybe I won't deprive you of your arms."

Sprig and Anne stepped away from the Fwagon as the rest of the toads closed in, Anne held out her hands pleadingly “You can take your pick of anything in the Fwagon just please up Polly down.”

The toad laughed cruelly, “That depends on what you got in there, if’n I don’t like what I see I’m a’thinkin’ a hostage would be worth a pretty penny.”

The mist swirled around the two groups and the toads began to root through the Fwagon. Something moved in the corner of Anne’s eye, something big and fast. She whispered to Sprig, “Did you see something move in the fog just now?”

Sprig shook his head, “no, what did it look like?”

Anne bit her lip in worry, “It was big that’s all I could tell, Hop Pop are there any creatures that live in this pass?”

Hop Pop looked nervous, “Couldn’t say for sure Anne, creatures move year-round though the fog pass, could be anything.”

The toad leader saw them whispering, “you lot! What ya whispering about?” he held Polly higher over the ravine, “don’t you be testing my kindness now!”

A flash and hiss rang out, causing everyone to fall silent. Moments later the toad’s scream broke the silence, “AAAAAGH!” he clutched at a stump where his arm, and Polly, had been moments ago.

“Polly!” Anne made to move forward but Hop Pop held her back.

“Wait, Anne! This is some kind of ambush predator. We gotta keep a tight formation.”

Before Anne could protest another scream rent the air, they turned just in time to watch a toad sail off the cliff and into the foggy depths below. Anne, Hop Pop and Sprig dashed for the wagon, Anne brandished her tennis racket, Sprig loaded his slingshot, and Hop Pop swung an old book around his head, doing his best to look big and intimidating. The toads fled into the mist; their disappearances marked by flashes and screams. Silence fell as the last toad’s screams were cut short by a resounding crack of a dull impact.

Anne advanced slowly; tennis racket raised. She turned as a voice called to her from the fog, “Yoo-hoo!”

Polly appeared from the mist, several feet above the ground, she grinned dementedly “Look at this scary monster that saved me!” she looked giddy, “He’s terrifying!” as she drew nearer Anne could make out a creature carrying Polly in its left hand. The creature was taller than her, wrapped in a cloak of earthy dark green cloth beneath which metal armour glinted in the morning light. Its face was obscured by a hood and fog but beneath it, Anne caught a glimpse of blonde fur.

She pointed her racket at the creature doing her best to sound intimidating, “alright buddy, you may have saved Polly but that doesn’t mean we trust you, hand her back over before I knock your block off.”

A low rumbling noise caused Anne to step back until she realized it was the creature chuckling, “Decapitation by tennis racket, now that’d be quite a feat.” Anne’s breath caught in her throat as she realized she recognized the voice.

Pulling back his hood the man strode closer, his eyes were a brilliant blue that twinkled with excitement, his face was mostly covered by a thick blonde beard, his hair was a similarly pale blonde. Months ago, back on that fateful night, it had been short, neat, and combed, now it had grown wild. He beamed a huge smile, “finally, I’ve found one of you!”

Anne rushed forward and hugged him, “Cameron!”

Cameron wrapped Anne in a bear hug. He laughed as he rubbed Anne’s head affectionately, “It’s so good to see you’re alright Anne.”

Anne looked up at him, tears welling up in her eyes as she smiled, “I can’t believe you’re here!”

Sprig approached Cameron cautiously, he couldn’t say why but Cameron reminded him of Anne’s “friend” Sasha. He narrowed his eyes at the man, “So what’s you’re deal? Are you going to be mean to Anne like her other so-called friend was?”

Cameron’s face immediately fell, “what?”

Anne made a throat-cutting gesture at Sprig but it was too late, the young frog continued, “Yeah, her friend Sasha tried to kill me, Hop Pop and even An-.” He stopped immediately when he saw the desperate face Anne was making.

Cameron’s mustache twitched as he absorbed what had just been said, Anne coughed, “maybe we should go sit down inside.” She looked painfully over at Sprig, “I’d like you all to meet Cameron Waybright, Sasha’s older brother.”

Cameron sat pensively at the table, listening intently as Anne explained what had befallen her and Sasha at Toad Tower. Outside the Fwagon Sprig and Polly watched through the window as Hop Pop cleaned up the mess the toad brigands had made as they fled.

Sprig leaned towards Polly, “I don’t trust this guy at all, I bet he’s just like Sasha.”

Polly nodded, “I dunno, he did save me from those toad guys, Sasha wouldn’t have done that.”

Sprigs eyes narrow, “he must be an even more masterful manipulator than Sasha, buying our trust by chasing off those toad brigands. They probably work for him, I bet you anything when we fall asleep we’ll wake up to find this Cameron and his toad toadies have tied us up are taking us back to Sasha for execution.”

Hop Pop strode up, “Now Sprig we can’t judge a book by its cover.”

Polly nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, I bet Cameron is really cool and will help us fight Sasha next time we see her and-”

Hop Pop shook his fist, “but we can make assumptions! Keep an eagle eye out Sprig, we can’t make the same mistake twice.”

Polly let out a sigh, maybe they were right.

Cameron felt a dull pain building behind his forehead as Anne finished up the story, he began messaging his eyes to try and ease it as they sat in silence. Finally, he lifted his head, “I’m really sorry about all of this Anne.”

Anne was slightly taken aback, “you’re sorry?”

Cameron ran his fingers through his beard, a habit of his when stressed, “What Sasha did to you and your friends the Plantars was inexcusable. She’s even worse than she ever was back home.” He stood up, “But I can’t excuse your actions in this entirely Anne, I know you had to defend yourself and these frogs but what both of you did was far too dangerous. Swords are not toys.” His eyes were hard for a moment but then softened, “Still if what you’ve said is true Sasha is with creatures that will help her, or at least keep her safe for now.”

Cameron breathed out heavily, clearly filled with mixed emotions and feeling awkward, “that was very mature of you to tell me like that, I believe you completely.” He put his hand on Anne’s shoulder, “You leave Sasha to me from now on, let her be my problem to deal with.”

Anne nodded, she had seen the pain that entered Cameron’s eyes when she had brought up what almost happened at Toad tower. She averted her eyes, “it won’t happen again.”

Cameron winced slightly at the dejected tone in Anne’s voice, “alright yeah this is too heavy for me, let’s go back outside and see your friends.”

As they exited the wagon Cameron’s eyes locked with Sprig who was trying his best to be menacing, he nudged Anne, “I don’t think your friends are too keen about me hanging around Anne.”

“They’re a stubborn lot but they’re nice people, er… frog… people that is…” She trailed off as Hop Pop glared at the two of them.

Cameron stepped forward, pausing as he awkwardly turned back to Anne, “is there apology procedure here? I can count the number of positive interactions I’ve had since I got here on one hand so I’m kinda at a loss for local social cues.”

Anne grimaced as she shrugged, “Kneel maybe?”

Cameron knelt before Hop Pop, bending his head down in classical medieval supplicant form, “Hopediah Plantar I want to offer my sincerest apologies to you and your ilk on behalf of the Waybright family. Please, if there’re anything I can do to make up for my sister’s transgressions towards you say it now and it will be done.”

From behind Anne could hear Cameron mumble under his breath, “please not blood, please not blood.”

Hop Pop was taken aback but quickly regained his composure, he looked over at Anne, “now see here Anne, this young gentleman knows his manners. You said using rude language to one another was the norm for your people back home.”

Anne kicked Cameron’s boot, speaking out the side of her mouth, “Now look what you’ve done.” She then beamed innocently at Hop Pop, laughing and averting her eyes as she tried to come up with an excuse, “Yeah well, uh, he’s just different. He’s… uh.”

Cameron raised his head, “if I might interject, it’s kind of a cultural thing. Younger ladies like Anne and Sasha have a specific form of communication that differs from the older elements of our kind.” He winked at Anne, “It’s a language we call it slang.”

Hop Pop narrowed his eyes, “Ah well the young’uns are always up to some kind of trouble, guess that’s no different where you’re from than it is here.”

Cameron stood up, “Too true sir.”

Hop Pop snapped at him, “don’t sir me, I still haven’t decided how you’ll pay for what your sister did to us.”

His face instantly shifting back to a serious mask Cameron dropped to his kneeling position, “of course, I await your judgement.”

They all sat there for what felt like hours as Hop Pop pondered.

Sprig and Polly chimed in with solutions.

“Cut his toes off!”

“Make him be my bodyguard for a year!”

“Make him give me that cool sword thing he has.”

Anne shot them an icy glare, causing the two of them to fall silent. Hop Pop turned back to Cameron, stroking his chin, “I’m not all that good at this holding judgment stuff so how’s about this, you have to do our chores for the duration of our trip to Newtopia.”

Cameron raised his head, eyes lighting up, “Newtopia?”

Anne chimed in, “it’s the capital city, we’re going there to find out how the music box works that sent us here.”

Cameron nodded once, “As it happens that was my next stop. You’ve got yourself a deal Mr. Plantar.”

As he stood up, Cameron extended his hand to Hop Pop who shook it warmly, “please, call me Hop Pop.”

Sprig kicked the ground glumly, “darn, I really wanted that sword.”

Chapter Text

Normally Cameron would have complained to no end to being told he needed to do the laundry, cooking, and cleaning for a whole family, but his time spent in the wilderness of Amphibia made the prospect of living in a clean space feel like a dream come true. Truth be told though his time as butler to the Plantar family was short-lived, with Hop Pop becoming quickly bored without chores. Anne also volunteered to help so it turned out that Cameron only had to do Sprig and Polly’s chores which Hop Pop quickly decided wouldn’t fly under his watch.

Cameron thoroughly enjoyed the company of Anne and the Plantars. They delighted each other with their stories in Amphibia, Cameron’s tales of his exploits as a roving knight errant were of particular fascination to Polly. Though he did have some reservations about how her eyes would light up as he described how he dispatched the various beasts he had encountered.

Though the company was good, and the travelling conditions comfortable, Cameron could feel something gnawing at the back of his mind. He knew exactly what it was: Sasha.

Cameron gazed up into the clear night sky. He had changed out of his armour, sporting a blue tunic he had bought from Ribbitvale. The stars covered the sky like spilled flour, the moon large and red as normal hung low in the sky, and in the distance, he could see swamp creatures going about their nightly routines. He let out a sigh of frustration, trying to relax.
“Something wrong?”

Cameron didn’t look over, “take a guess.”

Anne found herself a seat at the other end of the Fwagon roof, she rubbed the back of her neck self consciously, “yeah okay, dumb question.”

Cameron closed his eyes and grimaced as if in pain, “No, no, I’m sorry that was uncalled for.” He opened his eyes again and stared straight up, “I need to find Sasha. I need to get her under control before she makes any more stupid mistakes.”

Anne remained silent, fidgeting with her fingers. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Cameron spoke up again, “Tomorrow morning I’m going after her.”

Anne raised her head in surprise, “are you sure you don’t want to get to Newtopia first?”

Cameron shook his head, “Sasha won’t be there, if she was last with this Captain Grime character you’ve told me about, she’ll be heading to one of the other toad towers. Sasha’s not the kind of person to come crawling back no matter the consequences.”

Anne looked at a spot on the floor. She looked up at Cameron, a tinge of anxiety in her eyes, “do you think we’ll ever get home Cameron? I mean, the music box seems broken…”

Cameron snorted, “Of course, we’ll get home. Don’t you remember? The gems on the music box were coloured when we opened it on Earth, it’s just out of power. I’ve seen plenty of ruins around here, one of them will have what we need to power that thing up and take us home.” He smiled, “hell, we can probably go back and forth whenever we want once we figure out how to power the box. I’m sure Sprig would appreciate a visit from you.” Internally Cameron could feel his anxiety rise, there were decent odds that the music box was forever broken, or that it was a one-way trip item. Still, he kept a smile on his face for Anne’s sake.

Anne smiled, her anxiety disappearing much to Cameron’s relief, “that’s so true! I bet I could even bring Sprig to LA to meet my parents, how cool would that be?”

Cameron chuckled and turned his gaze back to the sky, “super cool.”

Chapter Text

That night as Cameron slept in the Plantar’s Fwagon his thoughts drifted. Anne’s story gnawed at his mind as it conjured up images of Sasha falling. He fought against the tide, latching onto whatever thoughts he could to distract himself from his sister’s uncertain fate. It wasn’t long before he was pulled into his usual dream, the one he’d had ever since he first got to Amphibia.

He was sitting on the coach at their dad’s place. Legs outstretched and resting atop an ottoman as he scrolled through his phone. Sipping his morning cup of tea Cameron selected a video from his feed. It was a lecturer talking about the recent black hole image taken in April. As he settled in to watch the video he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind him, “oh, you’re alive.”

Sasha covered her mouth as she yawned, “Morning, fartface.”

Cameron didn’t look up from his phone, “why do you always look like you were run over by a truck in your sleep?”

Sasha scowled, still half asleep, she tried to smooth out her bedhead with one hand. As she passed the couch she took a lazy swipe at Cameron's head with her free hand. He tilted his head to the side, avoiding most of the blow, “Good morning to you too.”

Turing towards the kitchen Sasha snorted in annoyance. A few seconds later she came back to the living room eyes filled with indignant rage, “you took the last muffin!”

Cameron’s voice dripped with false sincerity as he shrugged innocently, “I asked if you wanted it.”

“I was asleep you ass.”

“Then wake up before seven, anything left out in the open after eight is fair game, you know the rules.”

Sasha turned back to the kitchen, swearing under her breath.

Waiting until she was out of sight Cameron leaned his head back, eyes filled with mischief, he shouted upstairs, “Daaaad! Sasha’s swearing again!”

Instantly Sasha popped her head out of the kitchen, cereal box in hand, “Cameron taught it to me!”

There was silence. Sasha violently hurled the cereal box at Cameron who caught it easily, “ha, ha, funny.” her voiced laced with sarcasm, “where’d they go?”

“They’re going to see Lisa’s family, dad knew you wouldn’t want to go, and I graciously volunteered to drive you to school.” Lisa was their dad’s new wife. Cameron got along with her fine. She wasn’t a bad person by any means, but she wasn’t their mom. Since the divorce Cameron and Sasha had been passed back and forth between their parents as part of the shared custody agreement. Cameron had insisted on staying with his sister so now they spent a month at their dad’s place and a month and their mom’s. All in all, Cameron was happy to be able to see both their parents regularly, but he could tell the change had been hard on Sasha. She had been only five when it all happened, and while she understood more than he had expected her to at the time, she had never fully adjusted.

Sasha rolled her eyes, “Pass. I wouldn’t want to be seen dead in that piece of scrap you call a car.”

Cameron threw the cereal box back at her, “it’ll be your piece of scrap soon, and don’t worry, they took Lisa’s car. I’ll be driving dad’s car today.”

Sasha pumped her fist, “score.”

Sighing Cameron turned back to his video, “It’s not even that old really.”

Sasha’s eyes suddenly lit up with excitement, “oh I just remembered! It’s Anne’s birthday today!”

Cameron’s mood suddenly became a lot more dower, “what are you going to make her do this time?”

Sasha looked up from her phone, feigned shock written across her face, “what’s that supposed to mean?” Cameron held back a snort of cynical laughter, she was a good liar.

Screwing his face up Cameron did a mocking impression, “What’s that supposed to mean? See I can sound like an idiot too.”

Sasha rolled her eyes, “Anne loves that stuff, besides it’s always up to her what we do. It’s not my fault she likes every one of my ideas better than the lame stuff she comes up with.”

Cameron curled his lip in disgust, “do you even hear yourself sometimes? I don’t understand how you have any friends.”

Sasha leaned on the couch, “Unlike your big brother, I’m cool. And because I’m cool people want to be my friend and listen to what I say. Honestly, Anne and Marcy are lucky they have me to watch out for them. They’d be the school freaks if it wasn’t for me.”

“Lucky? Is that really what you think about your friends?”

Sasha’s eyes narrowed, “I don’t see how it’s your business anyways Cam. Stop being such a control freak, focus on your own life for once. Maybe you’d get a girlfriend that way.”

Cameron snarled, “Oh you wanna play like that huh?”

Sasha spread her arms out, “Whatcha going to do about it?”

“You’re being an especially garbage person today. You know that?”

“And you’re being a shit disturber.”

Cameron looked like he was about to stand up but then he smirked and pulled his headphones down over his ears, “alright, whatever.” Opening his phone, he starred down at the screen and continued watching his video.

Sasha grinned, “sucks to suck Cam.”

“mmm hmm.”

Sasha crossed her arms, “you just got destroyed.”

“I guess so.”

She tapped her foot, brow furrowing, “you’re being a baby.” When Cameron did not answer she walked over and pulled one of his headphone speakers off his ear, “did you hear that nerd?”

With a swift motion, Cameron grabbed her arm and turned his head, grinning widely, “What’s it say about you if you’re weaker than a nerd?”

Sasha pulled with all her might, but Cameron’s grip remained tight, “No fair, let me go!”

Cameron laughed, delighted at her struggle, “sucks to suck Sash.”

Sasha tried to reach Cameron’s face with her free hand, but Cameron easily blocked the blows, slapping her own hand into her face repeatedly. The fight devolved from there as the two siblings began pulling hair and slapping each other. Cameron held an easy advantage of reach and strength, but over the years Sasha had adapted, going for digits and other weak points to force her older brother to losen his grip.

The brawl was broken up by a crash as Cameron’s mug fell to the floor. Cameron looked down and cursed scrambling over to the tissue box to wipe up the tea before it reached the carpet and stained it.

Sasha grinned, “Ooh that’s a new one, what's it mean?”

Cameron glared at her, “It means piss off unless you want to help clean up your mess.”

Sasha shrugged, “whatever.” As she turned to leave, she paused, slowly turning back, “Hey Cam, you’re off school today, right?”

Cameron didn’t look up, “I thought I told you to buzz off.”

Sasha let out a breath of frustration, “okay I’m sorry for breaking the mug I’ll tell dad I dropped it.”

Cameron looked up suspiciously, instantly aware of the game his sister was playing, “Alright, what do you want?”

“Can you drive me and Anne around today? I promised her we’d go to our favourite spots for her birthday.”

Cameron’s eyes narrowed, “are you skipping school again?”

Sasha flipped her hair and rolled her eyes, “no of course not, one of my classes later in the day was cancelled. Miss Vanberg is sick.”

Cameron studied her face, unable to tell if she was being truthful or not. He gazed back down at the shattered mug, “Fine, what time do I pick you up from school?”

Sasha clasped her hands behind he back, “noon.”

“Alright, finish your breakfast. You’re going to be late.”

Cameron sat in the Saint James Middle School office. The room was just as bland and dull as he remembered, and as ever was flushed with the smell which he could only describe as 'beige'. Fluorescent white lights shone down on him from the likely asbestos-filled ceiling, their covers stained yellow with age. A teacher opened the door to his right, “Cameron? Sasha and Anne are here.” Cameron smiled cordially and stood up. Sasha and Anne were waiting in the outside hallway, bags and all. The teacher smiled at Cameron, “How did you get roped into taking them to their dentist appointments?”

Cameron stared blankly for a second before realizing what had transpired, duped once again... “oh… uh… our dad’s out of town for the day and I’m unlucky enough to have free time.”

The teacher laughed softly, “Poor you.”

Cameron glared at Sasha who flashed him a sly grin, “Yeah... poor me.”

In the car Cameron turned to Sasha who was sitting beside him in the front seat, “really?”

“It was a boring lesson today anyway.”

“Why did you have to implicate me in all of this? You know what happens if Dad finds out about this? Do you understand that it’ll be my ass that gets raked over the coals?” He turned to Anne in the back seat giving her a pained smile, “Also, hi Anne. Happy birthday.”

Anne smiled back, awkwardly shifting in her seat, “Hi Cameron... thanks.”

Cameron turned his attention back to Sasha, “you do realize this is borderline criminal?”

Sasha kicked her feet up on the dashboard, “You’re overreacting.”

Swiping her feet off the dash with a deft motion Cameron turned to Anne, “do your parents know you’re being picked up from school early?” Anne shook her head sheepishly. Cameron groaned, “great now I’m a kidnapper.”

Sasha rolled her eyes impatiently, “you done feeling sorry for yourself?”

Cameron had been massaging his eyes, he slowly lowered his hands. He glared right at Sasha, “give me moment, for some reason I have to process your shame too.”

Sensing a fight was brewing Anne leaned forward, “uh Cameron it was my idea to skip school actually.”

Cameron didn’t stop glaring at Sasha, “How’d you get her to think that huh?” He turned to Anne, sighing, “Alright birthday girl what’s the destination?”

Anne paused for a minute before Sasha butted in, “We’re going to the strip mall, Anne wants to do some graffiti.”

Cameron remained silent as he pressed the car’s ignition, causing the engine to hum to life. He slapped Sasha’s hand away from his phone, “ oh no, I pick the music.”

Sasha groaned aloud, “I’m not cruising to that stupid old music you and Dad like.”

Cameron opened his playlist, “good thing you’re not cruising then.”

The three of them sat in silence, Cameron humming along to the soft rock of his playlist as he carefully picked his way through the afternoon traffic. Sasha looked up from her phone, “hey idiot, you missed a turn!”

Cameron looked at her with lidded eyes, holding back a grin his voice was laden with sarcasm, “oh didn’t I say? We’re going to the arcade. Man, we really need to work on our communication Sash.”

Sasha slumped down in her seat, “ass.”

Despite Sasha’s misgivings, she and Anne thoroughly enjoyed the arcade. While Cameron occupied himself with the time crisis machine, he caught a glimpse of the girls playing Super Dance Fusion, he also saw them swipe some of the money from the machine while the arcade attendant was in the bathroom. He shrugged, this place was basically a scam anyways, you could find all of these games on a phone now for free.

He was less ambivalent to the situation, however, when he lost track of Anne and Sasha entirely several minutes later. He was about to start asking around when he caught sight of the two girls rolling down a nearby hill in a shopping cart. Groaning, Cameron massaged his brow, “I hate being an adult.”

Opening his phone he dialed Ms. Boonchuy’s number.

Cameron’s face lit up with a gin as he shifted his mood to phone call mode, “Hi Ms. Boonchuy this is Cameron… Yes, I’m quite well how are you? Awesome... I just wanted to give you a quick call to let you know I just picked Anne up from school along with Sasha today… Yeah, she wanted to take her to the arcade for her birthday…” As Cameron watched the shopping cart tumble over with both girls inside, he winced, “Oh shit…”

Quickly, however, they stood up and raced the cart back up the hill, sighing in relief he chuckled, “Yes, they’re having a great time... Yes, I’ll drop her off before five… Alright, take care, ciao.”

Cameron put his phone back in his pocket as a very dusty Anne and Sasha walked up to the car. He raised an eyebrow, “where’d the shopping cart come from?”

Sasha nonchalantly gestured to a superstore behind them, “someone left it lying around, figured they didn’t need it.”

“So that’s two counts of stealing in one day?” This might be a new record for you two.

Anne grinned and leaned in close, “We also graffitied the back of the store and totally dodged the cops.”

Cameron narrowed his eyes at Sasha, “Okay, well played. Is that a tie game between us now?”

Sasha flicked her hair, “two to one actually, I go you with the dentist thing I told the school.”

Cameron grimaced, “shi- drat.” He opened the car door, “Alright, let’s go you two.”

As they turned onto the road home Sasha and Anne caught sight of a particular building. They looked at each other and grinned mischievously. They began pounding their fists on the seat back and dash in front of them, “McDonalds! McDonalds! McDonalds!”

Cameron shrugged, “yeah okay.” The girls cheered but then Sasha caught glimpse of Cameron’s devilish smile he was hiding poorly with his hand. She stopped cheering, dread filling her soul as she realized what Cameron was about to do. Noticing her pleading eyes Cameron smiled wider, “you know, I could definitely go for a single black coffee right now, you girls are so considerate to me.”

This announcement was met with boos and hissing from his passengers. Laughing, Cameron turned off his indicator, “Kidding. We’ll stop at Ortelli’s.” the cheering resumed.

Cameron handed Sasha a twenty-dollar bill, “Get me the quintuple chocolate and find us a place to sit, no ice cream in the car.” He dropped them just outside the café and then began hunting for parking. Being late afternoon now the pickings were slim. When he finally got back to Ortelli’s his drink was half melted. Sitting down he removed the straw and went in for a spoonful, “hmm, gross yet delicious.” He glanced up at the girls, “Sorry we’re a little late getting you home Anne, I didn’t expect traffic to be as bad as it was.”

Anne seemed conflicted but shrugged, “it’s okay I can be a little late, actually we’re going to meet Marcy right after this.”

Cameron raised his eyebrows, “It’s like almost six o’clock dude. I told your mom we’d drop you off at five.”

Sasha waved her hand, “Anne’s totally cleared it up with them. Relax Cam, we’re just going to drop by this store Marcy told us about, it’s not too far from here. Why don’t you go get the car and pick us up from it?”

Cameron gazed down into his now lukewarm quintuple chocolate shake, “yeah okay this was a bad idea anyway, but right after that we’re dropping you off at home Anne. The last thing I need is to be on your mom’s bad side. What’s the place called?”

Cameron pulled the car up to a parking spot right in front of the antique store, it had now gotten late enough that parking was easier again, a fact he had mixed feelings on. As he sat in the car looking for the girls, he dialled Ms. Boonchuy’s number again, “Hello? Yes, Hi Ms. Boonchuy it’s Cameron again I-… yes, I know we’re very late it’s just-… yes, I agree no excuses I-… well they got a text from Marcy and-… yes I’ll drop Anne off first… Yes, I know it’s her birthday and I’m deeply sorry for all this it’s just... it’s like herding cats when they’re together and… No, I’m not with them now, we stopped at Ortelli’s for ice cream, and I went to get parking… no they’re meeting Marcy at this antique store… no I don’t get it either… Yes, mam, I accept full responsibility… Yes, I see them now over at the park... We’ll be on our way soon… Yeah, bye.” Taking a deep breath Cameron stepped out of the car, locking it he marched across the road to where Sasha, Anne and Marcy were sitting at a park bench.

“Alright guys I am now officially on Ms. Boonchuy’s shit list, so we need to get going now!” he smiled at Marcy, “oh hey Marcy, how was school?”

Marcy only looked up for a second to smile back, “oh hey Cameron, good!” She turned back to whatever Anne was holding, “try turning the key.”

Cameron walked over and peered down. Anne was toying with some kind of ornate music box. It was covered in swamp iconography, with a frog showing reverence to three large gems on its top: one blue, one pink, and one green.

Cameron turned to Sasha, “This is what you got Anne for her birthday? How did you afford this?”

Sasha grinned, “it was on sale for really cheap, those probably aren’t real gemstones.”

Cameron studied the music box more, “looks pretty real to me, old too.” He glanced at Marcy who was enthusiastically prodding the box with Anne, “are you sure you got if for Anne and not Marcy?”

Sasha scoffed, “Anne loves frog stuff, we couldn’t resist when we saw it.”

Cameron frowned; Marcy was definitely the kind of person to get fascinated by these kinds of things but the way she spoke to Anne about the box seemed like she’d seen it before. Cameron opened his mouth, “Hey Marcy, do you know what this-”

There was a click, and everyone fell silent. Cameron stepped closer, curiosity overcoming his previous train of thought. Anne gripped the side top of the box and began lifting. Cameron’s eyes widened as a brilliant light seeped out of the box, the gems glowed bright, shining like neon lights. Cameron felt a tug as if a strong wind was pushing him from behind. Just as he became cognizant of this feeling the blue gem flashed, Anne was engulfed in the light, a pink flash and he could no longer see Sasha, a green flash and now Marcy was gone too. Light filled Cameron’s vision; he was frozen, overstimulated, and completely unable to move. Then he lost his footing and was sent spinning into the light.

Cameron awoke with a gasp. He looked around, momentarily unsure of his surroundings. The familiar sights of the Fwagon revealed themselves in the darkness. He could hear the snores of Anne and the Plantars as they slept nearby. Taking a few deep breaths Cameron got his panic under control. Standing up he drank a swig of water from his canteen which hung from a peg on the wall above his bed. Lying back down as he felt his heartbeat calm. He gazed up at the roof of the Fwagon, muttering to himself as he slipped back off to sleep, “Are there even five kinds of chocolate?”

Chapter Text

Cameron fastened the buckled on his travel pack, giving it one final tug to ensure it was secure he nodded, “alright, time for last minute checks, do you guys see anything I’m forgetting?”

Anne and Polly who had been watching him pack from the fwagon’s dinner table glanced around before shaking their heads.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Do you have your canteen?”

Cameron pulled back the hem of his travelling cloak, “on the belt, and filled. Guess I’ll go up and tell Hop Pop to pull over.”

Anne drummed her fingers on the table in anxiety, “Are you really sure splitting up is the best idea, Cameron? I mean how do I find you again?”

Cameron crushed the small sense of annoyance that built up within him, having heard and answered the same question over and over again since the night before. Anne had every reason to be nervous about this. He looked up at her as he began donning his armour, “Once I’ve tracked down Sash I’ll meet you at Newtopia, or if you’re not there I’ll go to Wartwood.”

Anne continued to fidget, “okay…”

Cameron finished putting on his armour, he stood up, “I’m sorry about ditching you so soon Anne. I really am.”

She smiled, “No, no I get it. No matter what’s happened between us I’m not going home without Sasha or Marcy.”

Cameron opened his arms for hug which Anne stood up and accepted, “me neither Anne, we’ll find them. Just stay safe until I get back.”

Releasing Anne from the hug he turned to Polly, “I’m trusting you to keep her safe alright?”

Polly picked up a rolling pin that was lying nearby, holding it like a polearm she gave a salute, “I will protect miss Boonchuy with my life sir.”

Chucking Cameron pounded his breastplate, returning the salute, “I have full confidence in your abilities trooper.”

With Anne and Polly in tow Cameron climbed up onto the roof of the fwagon, waving up to Sprig and Hop Pop who were driving Bessie, “I’m all packed, just drop me wherever Hop Pop!”

As the Fwagon came to a halt Cameron leapt off the side onto the road. They were out of the mountains now and into a sort of boreal forest area. Conifer trees dotted the rocky landscape, it all reminded him of camping trips up north when he was little. Reaching up he offered a hand to Hop Pop, “Thank you for your hospitality Hop Pop, and for taking care of Anne. Sorry, I can’t make good on my chores contract.”

Hop Pop took his hand and shook it warmly, “don’t you worry yourself about that, it’s been a pleasure to have you. You take care out there now, Amphibia’s a tricky place to travel alone.”

Cameron smiled, “will do.” He turned to Sprig and held out his hand, “I’m not still in your bad books, am I?”

Sprig looked pensively at the hand scratching his chin with narrowed eyes, “I dunno, you could still be playing the long game…”
Cameron held back a laugh, “Alright fine, tell you what. You give me a chance, and when it’s time for me and the girls to go back home to earth I’ll let you keep my laser sword.”

Sprig instantly snatched his hand, “Sure thing new best friend!”

Anne snapped her head towards him, glaring, “Hey!”

Prying his hand loose from Sprig’s iron grip Cameron let out a snort of laughter. He set off across the road, hoping over the ditch at the side he turned one final time and waved, “Catch you all later! Have fun in Newtopia!” Then he ducked into the forest and disappeared from view.

Even at low power the exoskeleton of Cameron’s armour gave his travel speed a significant boost. He moved along dried-out stream beds and animal trails at a swift lope, only slowing to a normal walking pace to avoid low-hanging branches or to navigate dense foliage. He was out in the wild of Amphibia now, in terrain he was much more comfortable with. Gone were the oozing swamps and bogs, replaced with the smell of pine (or at least the local equivalent) and beds of ferns. As he travelled, he went back over his plan. Sasha and Grime must have a destination, somewhere they would go to recover and regroup with their forces. He knew of only three places they would likely go: east, west, and north toad tower. The map Hop Pop had provided him hadn’t given him any new information but that in of itself was helpful. There were really only five major landmarks to travel to in Amphibia, four now that the south tower was gone.

According to Hop Pop, the toads would likely be labelled turncoats for abandoning their posts to the villagers, so Newtopia was off the table. That left the three remaining towers. North Tower was the closest to where he’d start looking there. Of course, he also planned to make inquiries in any towns he passed through and if his intuition was right Sasha and Grime would be taking the same route he was. The sight of smoke from chimneys caught his eyes. Slightly off course but if they had any information on his sister's whereabouts the diversion would be well worth it.

The town was quiet, with just a few frogs and newts going about their daily tasks in the street, only stopping to stare for a moment at the tall and armoured creature that walked their town’s streets. Cameron had both his helmet on and his hood down to cover his face. Though he still stuck out like a sore thumb he found that most people when encountering a giant creature in full amour elected to carry on as if nothing were amiss rather than interrogate him as to his business.

Hearing the sound of singing Cameron turned his head, sighting a tavern. Bright blue, yellow and orange lettering marked it as ‘Under the Old Log’. Taking a second look at the building he noticed the roof of the tavern was indeed an ancient log. He slammed his palm against his forehead causing the helmet to ring like a dull bell for a second around his head. Exasperation quickly being replaced by embarrassment he stepped swiftly inside the tavern.

Yodeling and frogs wearing lederhosen sitting at American diner style tables greeted him as he pushed the wild west style saloon doors open. Pushing the weird fusion of decor and cultures to the back of him mind Cameron walked over to the bar behind which a toad wearing a bow tie and apron was cleaning plates. Wiping yet more moss from a revolving bar stood Cameron took a seat.

The toad’s eyes drifted sideways towards him, “what can I getcha?”

“One swamp beer please,” Cameron set two copper coins down. As the toad turned to fill a tankard Cameron spied a piece of paper that had fallen down behind the bar, “I think you dropped something.”

Glancing down the toad sighed, “not mine, it belonged to some crazy newt that was in here yesterday.” Peeling it off the sticky floor he passed it to Cameron who grabbed the edge gingerly, “you’re welcome to it if you like, don’t expect to claim the bounty I think that newt picked up the guy’s trail.”

It was a wanted poster, Cameron flipped it over and scoffed, it was for Captain Grime, “well how’s about that then.”

The toad passed him his tankard, “were you after that fella too?”

Cameron nodded, “Sort of, more so he’s travelling with someone I’m after. You said a newt came in with this?”

The toad nodded, “Yeah, some highfalutin newt lady from Newtopia. Armour, medals, the whole deal. Went off in a hurry too after these two toads came in chatting about the captain.”

Cameron winced and slumped his head forward, “Shit...”

“Yeah, sorry man, I think that bounty’s long gone.”

Cameron was silent, and horrible scenarios running through his head. He shook himself and looked back up at the toad, “do you know which way she went?”

The barkeep sniffed, closing one eye as he thought back, “I think I recall hearing something about the old mill.”

“Good a place to start as any,” Cameron brought the tankard up to his mouth, but it slammed into the helmet, spilling the liquid all down his front, “ah shit… you know what, never mind. I shouldn’t be day drinking and hunting at the same time.”

The Toad shrugged, “no refunds.” But Cameron wasn’t listening he rolled the wanted poster up and stuffed it into his belt as he walked out the swinging doors.

As he approached the abandoned hill Cameron could see multiple trees had been recently felled. Walking over to the he ran his hands along the cuts, clean and in pairs. He shook his head, “Is fucking Wolverine hunting them?” it was then that he noticed another set of cut objects, he groaned, “What the hell Sash?”

Four crudely constructed training dummies were scattered in pieces across the clearing three of which bore a striking resemblance to the members of the Plantar family. Cameron walked over and looked down at the fourth dummy, hands resting on hips as he examined it. The dummy had long curly hair, a blue shirt, and a pink skirt, and wielded a crude wooden sword in its hand. Cameron let out a long breath as he continued to stare at the Anne dummy, “this does not bode well…”

Examining the mill he found several supply boxes, marked in bright paint with the words Wartwood or Toad Tower. Cracking one open he looked at the contents: food, weapons, and armor. Despite the slightly worrying context of his discoveries Cameron couldn’t help but feel excitement building, Sasha had been here, recently too.

Exiting the mill he began searching the ground. No blood that was good, Sasha and Grime must have retreated from whoever had cut the trees down. If they left in a hurry, there should be tracks. Sure, enough Cameron spotted a human footprint that was smaller than his own. Finding several more he took off in the direction they pointed.

Cameron picked up a shard of metal. It was sharp and slender. Someone’s weapon had broken, the small bits of wood still on the blade didn’t help much identifying who. The assailant had cut down trees, but the dummies Sasha had made were also wood. He checked the ground again, still no blood.

The trail ran cold at the cliff edge, gingerly Cameron peered over. His face twisted in confusion, no body, no blood. Did everyone just decide to pack up and go home? Another morbid thought crossed his mind, “shit, dead bodies sink don’t they…” he pursed his lips, “Well I need to check… guess I’m going down.”

Something moved in the corner of his eye. Spinning Cameron turned, his back facing the cliff as he reached slowly for his laser sword, he’d let his guard slip since leaving the swamp but who knows what kind of creatures live in the woods.

“Surrender and I might let you live creature.”

Cameron spun, sword igniting as he drew it. A newt stood twenty paces away, she was pink with spiked blonde hair and clad in plate armor with several medals adorned upon the breastplate. This must be the newt the toad bar tender told him about. how had she been able to sneak up on him?

The newt struck a pose, “You are tampering with a crime scene, identify yourself immediately!”

Cameron held out his hand, “woah I’m not here to pick a fight. You’re after Captain Grime, right?” He lowered his blade point a little, “My name is Cameron Waybright, my sister Sasha was last seen with him.” Slowly Cameron removed his helmet, revealing his messy blonde hair and beard, “She’s a human, like me.”

Seeing his revealed features the newt’s eyes narrowed and her lip curled, “oh yes, I can see the family resemblance. You humans are certainly the ugliest creatures I have ever met.”

Cameron had to bite back a retort, “listen, you’re clearly law enforcement and I have no desire to obstruct justice. I can help you bring Grime in; he illegally recruited my sister into his toad army, she shouldn’t have been part of the army so she can’t be accused of treason.”

The newt let out a laugh, “You’re a shrewd one human, you are correct that your sister isn’t guilty of treason.” Cameron let out a sigh, but his relief was short-lived as the newt brought up his first upon which two broken blades were mounted, “however, she is guilty of attacking a member of the Newtopian army! And as for you,” She then pointed directly at Cameron, “East tower reported a Cameron Waybright trespassing and attacking the guards there!”

Cameron cursed raising his blade again, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The Newt struck another pose, “So surrender yourself to General Yunan, Scourge of the Sand Wars, Defeater of Ragnar the Wretched and the youngest newt ever to achieve the rank of general in the great Newtopian Army before I cut you down.”

Cameron’s eyes glazed over a bit from a strange combination of second-hand embarrassment and dejectedness, “well I know I can’t beat an entire army, might as well call them out of hiding now, I don’t have a death wish.”

Yunan laughed, she ejected the broken wrist blades from her right gauntlet. Reaching into a belt satchel she slammed a fresh set in, “army? I have no need for an army.” Dropping into a fighting stance, blades extended out from both her armored wrists, “an army only slowed me down.”

Cameron suddenly came to a horrid realization, “You’re not taking prisoners, are you?”

Yunan gave a devilish grin, “No mercy for traitors and invaders.”

Cameron gritted his teeth, “well I can’t let you hurt Sasha, no matter what she’s done.”

The newt general’s grin somehow grew larger, “good, more fun this way.” With a snarl she charged at lightning speed.

Cameron met the charge with grim determination, keeping the laser sword at low power he deflected and parried Yunan’s attacks. The newt was everywhere at once, leaping around and over Cameron as they duelled, dancing away from his strikes and diving back. She never went for a direct engagement, instead using her superior acrobatics and speed to force Cameron onto the defensive. Her strategy became immediately clear to Cameron, she intended to tire him out, once his reaction speed fell behind hers, she would go in for a killing blow. Cameron was impressed, this newt was a cunning warrior. He would need to change the battle dynamic.

As Yunan dived for another strike he thumbed the intensity switch on his sword, only for a split second. The blade sliced cleanly through Yunan’s right wrist blades as they struck towards Cameron’s side.

Yunan darted back, “clever trick human, but that won’t work again.”

Now with some breathing room Cameron began to feel his confidence returning, he had a plan now, “it’s rare to get compliments from an esteemed newt such as yourself general.”

“Don’t flatter yourself human, this still only ends one way.”

Cameron grinned, “well I might as well get comfortable then.” Reaching up to his shoulder he unclasped his cloak, letting it fall limply into his hand. The with a sudden movement he swung the cloak at Yunan.

The newt’s left gauntlet sliced cleanly through the fabric, “feeble tricks won’t work against the mighty General Y-” she was cut off as Cameron tackled her through the cloak. Dropping his sword he wrapped his gauntleted hand around her left-hand wrist blade and crushed it. The sharp but fragile blade shattered, splintering into shards of metal from the violent force. Yunan let out a snarl, “Hand to hand it is ruffi-” a headbutt cut her off again.

The two rolled across the ground, struggling to gain leverage on the other. Pulling his right arm free Cameron brought his armoured first down on Yunan’s nose. One, twice, thrice. The stunned newt lashed out with her free hand, the shattered wrist blades scraping across Cameron’s armour before slashing across his face.

Cameron fell back, clutching at his face. All he could see out of his right eye was red. In a blind panic, he tore off his right gauntlet and wiped across his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he was relieved to find he could see again. Calming down he reached up and felt his brow. There was a cut across his right eyebrow, deep but not immediately serious. Turning back to his opponent Cameron saw Yunan rising shakily, bleeding from her mouth and nose.

Rising Cameron advanced, dropping his left gauntlet he gave a little boxing hop and loosened up his arms as he drew closer to Yunan. Seeing him approach she dove for his abandoned sword hilt lying on the blood speckled grass. Cameron intercepted her with a violent kick that sent her into a tree. He charged as she sprung up, landing a jab before she could raise her own hands to guard.

What followed was a relentless beat down as Yunan found herself unable to maneuver back up against the tree as she was. Cameron rained blow, after blow, down upon the newt, who to her credit shoved her broken blades into his side as often as possible, leaving nasty but superficial wounds under the armour plates. The conclusion was inevitable, however, as Yunan lay gasping for air through a broken nose and bruised face.

Satisfied his opponent was incapacitated Cameron slumped down across from her. Dried blood had effectively welded his right eye shut and a dozen other cuts covered his body. He glared over at Yunan through the pain, “Why were you even here?”

The general tried to spit at him but it fell short, “your sister and the traitorous captain threw me off a cliff here, I was looking for the trail.”

Cameron looked around at the churned-up and bloody-spattered ground. He groaned, “fucking fantastic, I think that ship has sailed.” He looked back over at Yunan, “so what happens now?”

The general coughed, “That’s up to you, scum. Either you kill me now, or you let me live and I kill you later.”

Cameron leaned his head back, “Yep, makes sense you’d say that…” Reaching down into his belt Cameron pulled out some bandages and alcohol tincture and began dressing his wounds, letting out stifled pain noises as he did so. He rested a while after he’d finished, just soaking in the calm.

Rising from his sitting position Cameron looked down at Yunan. The newt general had passed out from exhaustion. Limbs aching Cameron leaned down and lifted her onto his shoulder in a fireman carry.

About an hour later Cameron stumbled into town, still hauling Yunan over his shoulders. Waving down a passerby he beckoned them over, “Is there a doctor in town?”

Later that evening Cameron was back at the cliff overlooking the waterfall. The wounds Yunan had given him still stung but most of the bleeding had stopped. He hadn’t let the town apothecary look at his injuries for fear that he might recognize them as from Yunan, but overall, he felt like he’d disinfected the wounds sufficiently.

He surveyed the scene before him. Blood spattered the ground in intervals and the soft soil had been churned up to the point it was mud. He ran his hand over a single small boot print, about two-thirds the size of his own. Sasha and Grime had run off in a hurry, doubtlessly covering their tracks to avoid Yunan. To find their trail he’d need more than a little blind luck.

It was back to square one then, it seemed he’d been right that Sasha and Grime were heading north. He could only hope that their encounter with Yunan hadn’t changed their plans.

Chapter Text

Notes: Mid Fall 1

I’ve made a little scorecard for myself.

Anne [X]

Sasha [?]

Marcy [ ]

For those of you who don’t quite appreciate the utter genius of this layout let me explain. I’m using this simplistic representation to indicate which of the three girls I’ve been able to check on since I got here. It’s also a silly little thing to keep me distracted from the fact that SASAH AND ANNE ALMOST KILLED EACH OTHER!

To summarize, Sasha is apparently some kind of officer in the toad army now, or at least was until she tried to capture and execute Hop Pop Plantar (the patriarch of the family that took Anne in), which led to some kind of confrontation on south toad tower which then collapsed AND which Sasha then FELL OFF OF while DUELING Anne with real swords. Thankfully she was caught by her toad superior, Captain Grime.

To top all of this off, it seems the legal framework of this world errs on the side of the absolute. I ran into a Newtopian general by the name of Yunan that is hunting Sasha and Grime. She informed me in no uncertain terms that the punishment for attacking members of the Newtopian military is death. Seeing as both Sasha and I fought her off, and taking into account my encounter at east tower, I’d say my plan to go through ‘customs’ in Newtopia is dead on arrival.

Okay, I’ve calmed down a bit. Taking stock of the situation: Anne is in Newtopia, Sasha is wanted for desertion, and Marcy is still missing. I’m more than a little worried about what Anne might run into at Newtopia but at least she’s got the Plantars with her (lovely people frogs by the way, except Polly, that one’s a serial killer in the making).

I’m going to stick to Sasha’s trail for now. As I guessed she seems to be heading north, probably to the north toad tower to seek asylum from one of Grime’s friends. With any luck I can meet her there and we can try and figure a way out of this mess. Unfortunately, the map I have is more illustrative than precise. The image for the north tower spans several tens of miles wide on the map, so unless it’s to scale and it’s indeed that big it’ll take a while to find even if I make it there.

Notes: Mid Fall 2

Update, I’m about a week into my journey. I haven’t come across any more signs of Sasha or Grime and the towns I stop at haven’t seen them. They’re probably playing it safe and taking care to cover their tracks more thoroughly after their encounter with Yunan, good for them but bad for me.

I’m sticking to my plan of travelling to the North Tower, but I don’t really have a plan once I get there. If I go up and knock, there’s even odds it’s going to be a repeat of East Tower. Best I can think of is camping out nearby it and seeing who comes and goes. If I can’t find anything I think I should head to Wartwood, the place the Plantars are from, and camp out there until Anne shows up.

Notes: Mid Fall 3

Reached North Tower today, this place is creepy as hell. It’s got massive bird skeletons draped over its ramparts and generally looks like a haunted house. I have seen a lot of hustle and bustle from the toads there, but so far, no sign of Sasha.

Notes: Mid Fall 4

It’s been almost a week and no sign of her. She must have moved on from here since there’s no way I made it here first. I’m going to make a beeline for Wartwood as fast as I can. I’ve got four power cores left. If I’m willing to burn through one of them I think I can recharge the rest at Wartwood using those electric bugs Anne said she used to power her phone. Full leg boost is quite a power draining but if I’m conservative with power now it’ll be another three weeks before I get to Wartwood.

Chapter Text

The sun beat down relentlessly on Cameron as he moved along the twisting road at a light jog. The journey from North Tower towards Wartwood had not been an easy one for the young man, and it showed. The joints of his armour squeaked and shrieked from the dust that caked them and from being overworked. He’d lost several of the amour plates from the exoskeleton, shaken lose as he sped across the land. His hair and beard were a mess of burrs, mud, and creature bits. He had bags under his eyes, having subsisted on micro naps for efficiency, a technique he’d heard about on a podcast. Sometime later he’d come to the realization that the podcast he was thinking about had been talking about Batman’s completely fictional sleeping habits and that he’d just made his journey ten times harder on his body.

Hearing a click near his right knee Cameron could only manage a pained sigh before the exoskeletal joint locked up and he was sent face-first into the dirt. Rolling onto his back Cameron lay still for a while, feeling his nose and teeth for damage. Though they hurt like hell nothing seemed to be broken. He looked down at his phone which had a timer running, it read almost ten hours.

Closing his eyes Cameron murmured to himself, “So that’s… 12… 60… 10… just about 50 miles…s-should be right by Wartwood now…” He took a deep breath then opened his eyes and sat up with a grunt, “Okay, one last push and it’s warm bed and shower time.” Reaching into his belt pockets he produced the multitool-like thing he’d found in the ruins and began tinkering with the frozen joint.

As he cleaned dust out of the socket a peculiar sound caught his ear, “Wha- is that an accordion?” quickly testing the joint’s flexibility he fastened it and stood up, wiping the road dust from his pants. Holding his hand to block the sunlight he squinted at the approaching figure.

Wally hopped down the path, whistling along to his accordion without a care in the world. Cameron didn’t speak, standing perfectly still in the middle of the road as the frog waltzed towards him. Cameron’s face was unreadable as the frog drew, nearer, nearer, and nearer before eventually slamming directly into his left leg with a resounding crash and screech of the accordion.

Wally coughed out dust that had been kicked up by the impact, “Oi! Watch where you’re going you great lump!”

Cameron started down at him unblinking, “Are you serious?”

Wally slowly craned his neck back until he met Cameron’s gaze, he was almost looking straight up, “Er… well… I suppose I wasn’t exactly focused on… er…” Suddenly his eyes widened in horror, and he started scrambling back, “You’re one of those bad humans, the blonde ones!”

Cameron grimaced, “I take it you know Sasha then.”

Wally nodded, “Aye!” He stood up straight and placed a hand on his chest trying to strike a heroic pose, “You’re looking at the frog that knocked her and that toad captain’s tower down to save Wartwood.”

Cameron’s face twisted into an incredulous look, “you’re the reason Sasha almost fell to her death?”

Wally nodded proudly, “Yeah!” suddenly he caught himself, “Well, uh actually that was an accident you see Anne and I had a miscommunication and…”

“Stop.” Cameron held out a hand to cut the frog off, “Just, stop.” He massaged his forehead, “Listen I’m looking for Anne, I left her at Newtopia but things got complicated so I couldn’t meet her there so…” he trailed off, “point is, you know Anne. Has she sent any mail or messages?”

Wally blinked with his one open eye, “Well I didn’t speak to her before she left with her friend and the Plantars this morning, but you could always ask around town if she left a message for you.”

“Anne was here this morning! Wait, what friend? Do you mean Sasha?”

“Goodness no, it was a different human. Had black hair, asked way too many questions. I think Anne met her at Newtopia.”

Cameron’s eyes were wide, “Marcy?”

Wally snapped his fingers, “Yeah! Marcy, pain in the rear if you ask me. She and Anne have been running off to these temple places across Amphibia, something to do with the music box thing Anne has.”

Cameron was slack-jawed, “you’re kidding.”

Wally shook his head, “I never kid, except when I’m pulling your leg.”

“Listen, despite your history with my sister you’ve been extremely helpful.” Cameron extended his hand, “My name’s Cameron, I’m a friend of Anne’s.”

Wally looked at his hand suspiciously, “a friend like Marcy or like Sasha? I can never tell with you humans, you’re all so backstabby.”

Cameron a weak smile, “we’re not all like that, you just haven’t seen us at our best.”

Wally accepted his hand, “Alright, but One-Eyed Wally’s got his eye on you Cameron, step careful or I’ll blow up your tower next.”

Cameron chuckled, “Do you have a filter, Wally?”

“No, I drink it straight from the swamp. The swamp bits are super healthy you know.”

Cameron slowly extricated his hand, making a mental note to wash it thoroughly before eating with it, “Well it’s been a pleasure Wally, but I should be getting on to Wartwood. How far down the road is it?”

Wally played a quick note on his accordion and nodded up the road he had just come down, “oh not far, you’ll be there before sundown if you keep a brisk pace.”

Cameron nodded, “then I hope to see you there.” He waved to Wally as the two went their separate ways. Turning away Cameron shook his head, “should have stopped at Ribbitvale on the way, you don’t get crazies like that there.”

It was early afternoon when Cameron finally walked under the Wartwood sign. Wartwood was much like the other villages he’d visited along his journey: quaint, homey, and covered in swamp moss. He paused unsure of where to go next, but a noise from his stomach settled the matter.

As Cameron walked though the village he could feel the townsfolks’ eyes upon him, though they would avert their eyes if he turned his head. He could hear them whispering to each other as he passed. Grimacing he pulled his hood up. He’d hoped that these people might be a bit more used to humans having spent so much time with Anne, but it was seeming likely that they saw her as the exception and not the rule.

Entering the town square, Cameron took stock of the various shops. A sight caught his eyes that immediately turned his frown upside down. It was shaped like a teapot and was a pale pink, a sign out front marked it as Felicia's Tea Shoppe. Opening the door gingerly so as not to spook the occupants Cameron entered, ducking his head to avoid smacking his head on the door frame. He dropped his hood, giving a soft smile to the newt who was cleaning inside, “Uh hello miss, I apologize for my poor attire but do you sell food with your tea?”

Felicia looked up, “oh my! Are you one of Anne’s friends?"

Cameron scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “uh… there’s no easy way to put this… I’m… uh… I’m Sasha’s brother Cameron.” He clasped his hands, not really sure what to do with them in this awkward situation, “If Sasha has in anyway hurt you or you loved ones I apologies on her behalf profusely, I’m told she caused quite a mess.”

Felicia narrowed her eyes as she examined Cameron who stood still awkwardly shuffling his feet and fidgeting with his hands in silence. Then she smiled, “I consider myself to be a pretty good judge of character.” She pulled out a saucer and cup and set it down on a table with a spotless tablecloth, “I don’t think you’ll cause me any trouble, please take a seat Cameron. I’ll start a brew.”

Cameron breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you so much. You mentioned Anne, I heard from Wally that she was in town this morning, do you know when she’ll be back?”

Felicia lit her stovetop and set a kettle of water on it, “last two times she was gone to one of those temples she was back the next day. They travel fast with Marcy’s sparrow.”

Cameron held up his dusty (and Wally residue covered) gauntlets, “Sorry to trouble you but do you have a bathroom I could wash up in? I don’t want to get your lovely setup dirty.”

“Not a problem, do you see that door back there?” Felicia gestured to a wooden door at the back of the shop, “it’s right through there, feel free to leave any of your traveling equipment back there too.”

A few minutes later, having wasted up and made himself look a little bit presentable, Cameron exited the bathroom. He’d doffed his armour and sported the blue tunic he’d bought at Ribbitvale and the jeans he’d been wearing since he first arrived in Amphibia.

He sat down in the offered chair. The seat was slightly too small, causing his knees to rest at the table height so he decided to cross them beneath the table. As Felicia went about preparing the tea Cameron let his head roll back and relaxed for the first time in the two weeks since he’d left North Tower. He was exhausted, bruised, and battered. The wounds General Yunan had inflicted on him hadn’t fully healed, especially the twin cuts across his right eye that were turning into fairly nasty-looking scars.

Felicia set down the teapot to steep on the table in front of him, “those cuts look pretty nasty.”

Cameron opened his eyes and straightened his posture with a small grunt of pain, “yeah, I would see a doctor about them but I haven’t found one yet that knows how to treat mammals.”

“Why don’t you try speaking to Maddie? I’ve heard her potions worked just as well on Anne as they do on any of the other towns folk.”

Cameron raised an eyebrow, “she’s your town apothecary?”

“No, she’s the town witch.” Felicia poured some tea from the teapot into Cameron’s cup and offered it to him.

Accepting it with a smile Cameron gave the brew a quick sniff, feeling out the aromas of the tea. He shrugged, “a witch huh? Sure, what the hell.”

The tea was delicious, and Felicia followed it up with an equally delicious if slightly dainty meal. After paying for the meal Cameron stood up, “Pardon me Felicia, but do you know where I could find lodging in the town? I don’t want to break into the Plantar’s house while they’re away and even then, it sounds like they’re short on rooms with both Marcy and Anne staying there.”

Felicia chuckled, “As it happens, I have a guest room you’re more than welcome to stay at.”

Cameron shook his head, “you’re too kind, what do they charge for rent around here?”

“Well, if you insist, it’ll be three coppers a night.”

Cameron reached into his coin purse and produced a silver coin, “I don’t have any coppers but if Anne and Marcy are almost done charging the music box, I won’t have much use for these soon. I don’t think I can put these through a currency exchange.”

Felicia took the coin, “You’re a generous soul Cameron.”

That night Cameron spent over an hour in the bathroom cleaning off the wear and tear of the road. He emerged the next morning looking, and feeling, like a new man.

Chapter Text

Cameron began his day in search of new clothes. While being out in the wilds with only one pair of clothes had let him travel light, his wardrobe was hardly fit for civilized living. Was he walked out into the welcoming sunlight he took in a deep breath and stretched, welcoming the freedom of his unarmoured form. A great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, both literally and figuratively. It had been over a month since he’d last felt safe enough to walk about without his armour, and he’d heard firsthand accounts that Marcy was safe. Not only was she safe but she and Anne were about to finish charging the music box that brought them all here in the first place. Cameron couldn’t help but chuckle, now all he needed to do was find Sasha and they could all go home.

With a renewed spring in his step, Cameron strode into town. News of his arrival had spread throughout the town, but some gossip spread by Felicia to her tea shop guests had planted a favourable image of Sasha’s brother in the Wartwood residents’ minds. Still, he caught some suspicious glances being thrown his way, it seemed not everyone was convinced.

Cameron spied his destination, Stitch’s & Snip’s Tailoring, ‘the finest tailors’ this side of Newtopia if Felicia was to be believed. A bell attached to the door ran out as Cameron pushed it open revealing a cramped but well-organized interior. A large tapestry of cloth samples in every colour imaginable covered the walls, at the centre of the shop was a workbench with dozens of drawers labelled meticulously with the names of threads and other tailoring implements.

As Cameron stepped in a took stock of the room a small voice called up to him, “and what can I do for you today sir?”

Looking down Cameron was taken aback to find he was inches away from stepping on a frog dressed in an immaculate three-piece suit. The frog came up to Cameron’s knee but showed no fear as he craned his neck up to stare at his relatively gigantic customer. Stepping back Cameron placed a hand across his heart, “I am so sorry, forgive me I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

The frog shook his head, “If I needed an apology, I would have asked for one. What I asked was: what can I do for you, sir?”

Cameron’s mustache twitched, the frog’s brusque tone catching him off guard, “oh. Yes, right. Uh… well I need clothing.”

“Naturally.”

“Oh, cut the boy some slack!” another small frog, clad in a bright colourful suit waddled out from behind the workbench. He was carrying several rolls of linens and had pins held in his mouth which he was speaking around, “pay no heed to Stitch young man, let’s take your measurements and then we’ll talk shop.”

Stitch’s nose wrinkled, “What if he only wants pants Snip, I don’t want to waste his time fitting him for a shirt he doesn’t want.”

Cameron raised his hands, “actually I practically need a full wardrobe renewal.”

Snip set the linens down and hopped up onto the workbench, “well we better get started then. Stitch you take the trousers I’ll take the upper body.”

The whole process when by rather quickly. Within an hour Cameron had placed an order for a new suit, athletic clothes, and three new sets of shirts, shorts, socks, and underwear. Most shocking of all he was told he could pick up all but the suit by the end of the day.

Leaving the shop, he opened his phone and ticked off the first item on his to-do list, “Okay, clothes check. Let’s go see a witch.”

It took a little searching but eventually he found Maddie working away at a cauldron in the woods just outside town. Seeing him approach she stopped stirring, “are you another one of Anne’s friends?”

Cameron nodded, “yes, I was told you know.” He held his hands up, doing quotation marks with his fingers, “magic.” He pursed his lips, “I wasn’t told you were so young though…”

Maddie started at him, one visible eye unblinking, “Yeah, I know magic.”

Cameron sighed, “Look Maddie, I’m pretty scratched up and battered. Do you have some, like, herbal medicines that can treat cuts? Also, I’d an arm and leg for some painkillers.”

Maddie walked over to her spell book that was leaning up against a nearby tree. Flipping it open she glanced over at Cameron, “I don’t need body parts for a healing potion.”

“I- I didn’t…” Cameron sighed, becoming slightly frustrated, “it’s just a figure of speech. Do you have medicine or not?”

“A healing potion is fairly simple to make, give me three copper and I’ll whip one up for you now.”

Cameron bit his lip, all of this sounded ridiculous, but Felicia had said Maddie knew magic. At the time he’d assumed she was just some kind of witch doctor, parading her herbal remedies as magical solutions. Opening his coin purse Cameron fished out three coppers and tossed them to Maddie, “Done. Can I watch?”

Maddie nodded, “Sure, but I’m not taking on another apprentice. Marcy is difficult enough to teach as it is.”

Cameron’s eyebrows raised, “you took Marcy as your apprentice.” Suddenly he was standing close to Maddie, watching every move she made.

Maddie glared up at him, “Do you mind?”

Cameron was far too occupied looking through her spell book, the knowledge that Marcy thought this was interesting made it at least worth investigating, “do I mind what?”

Maddie rolled her eyes, “never mind, just don’t get in the way.”

As the potion brewed Cameron began bombarding Maddie with questions.

“How does the spell set the parameters of its effect?”

“Have you tried altering spells to modify their effect?”

“Like could you tweak the growth spell to shrink someone instead?”

“Where does the extra mass come from in the spell?”

“How does the spell stop the person’s body from crushing in on itself when it gets that big”

“Have you tested to see if things get hot or cold near a spell if you’re erasing or creating matter?”

“Have you heard of energy conservation?”

“Can you reverse the effects of cooking on food?”

“Does this transformation curse change the DNA of the target?”

“Where is the energy drawn from when you cast a spell?”

“Does the effect scale with the quality or amount of ingredients you use?”

“Have you tried reversing entropy with a spell?”

“SHUT UP!” Maddie turned and screamed in Cameron’s face, “I CAN’T CONCENTATE!”

Cameron rolled his eyes, “Frankly my dear I don’t care, you might have just given me my thesis topic.” He scratched his beard, “and maybe a Nobel prize if I can replicate it on earth. No, I should collaborate with Marcy on this…”

Maddie hit him hard over the head with a wooden ladle, “Last warning, or I turn you to stone and tell the others you got eaten by a heron.”

Cameron rubbed his head, “okay, okay. Message received.” He sat down at a safe distance and watched. After a moment he raised his hand, “could I take some picture of that book-” A frosty glance from Maddie as she reached for a satchel on her belt caused him to fall silent.

The potion was done not long after and presented to cameron in a small wooden bowl. He looked at it somewhat skeptically, “what’s it taste like?”

Maddie shrugged, “not much, you might taste some grass.”

Putting his phone down on a nearby stump and pressing record Cameron downed the potion in one swig. He coughed and gagged, “blah, fu- blast, tastes like cough syrup!” he glared at Maddie who smiled back smugly.

“Well normally it’s pretty mild, I must have gotten distracted while making it.”

Cameron shook his head, “whatever.” He held a cut on his left arm up to his phone camera and waited. Sure enough, the cut began to shrink, healing swiftly. Cameron giggled, “so cool.”

He looked over at Maddie, “Does this stuff keep?”

She shook her head, “after a day it’s pretty useless, even after an hour the effect is lessened.”

Cameron sighed, “well I guess that makes sense.” Pulling his tunic back down over where his wound use to be he received his phone, “how much for pictures of the book?”

Maddie shrugged, “one silver?”

Cameron scoffed, “you gotta work on your business sense young lady.” He tossed her a gold farthing, “this stuff’s worth it’s weight in gold.”

That night Cameron was up well past midnight reading through the pictures he’d taken. It wasn’t until three in the morning that he realized he’d completely forgotten to pick up his new clothes.

Chapter Text

**There are several pages of notes taken from Maddie’s Spellbook along with some physics equations and the odd rough doodle**

Updates, all good this time:

1. Marcy met up with Anne.
2. Anne and Marcy are recharging the music box.
3. Magic is real and I think I can figure it out.

We’re so back boys.

As it stands, the only source of anxiety I have is Sasha’s whereabouts, but I’ve had some thoughts on that. She can’t have been taken in by Newtopia or Anne and Marcy would have heard (apparently Marcy is some kind of high-ranking officer in the Newtopian military, wild). So, she must still be somewhere out there with Grime. It’s not Sasha’s nature to run and hide so she’ll show up on Newtopia’s radar again, and when she does, I’ll be there to get her out. If the music box is working again, we don’t even have to go through the whole repentance charade to the king and just book it back to earth. If the music box comes with us, we don’t even have to worry about them following us.

I’m staying in Wartwood for now. Resting up and generally chillaxing. But it does turn out chillaxing is quite an expensive pastime in a medieval society, especially when you’ve been luxury-starved for over a month. On the first day, I bought a full wardrobe (very sensible, I need fresh clothes to live in polite society), a workshop’s complement of tools (also essential, my armour needed a tune-up), a gourmet dinner at a local restaurant (gotta treat myself when I can, don’t you dare say I didn’t earn this), some fine mantis leather boots (fetching and they go great with the three-piece suit I had tailored), and five bottles from Mayor Toadstool’s private collection at what I was assured was a hefty discount (don’t give me that look, I’m legal to drink this in Canada). The shopkeepers love me, but I have a feeling that if my cash reserves dry up, so too might their goodwill…

After I had all the essentials, I realized I was running a bit low on cash. I’ve got enough to pay for rent at Felicia’s but not enough to keep up my ‘friendship’ with each and every shopkeeper in town. This wouldn’t be a huge issue, I do have everything I need now and I can just get my meals at the tea shop but the only workshop in town belongs to Leopold and he expects me to buy things if I spend my time working in his shop. I think I might offer to lend a hand around his store until Anne, Marcy, and the Plantars get back. Of course, if the others see Leopold getting money while I’m avoiding them I could be in for some rough conversations.

So, here’s the plan. I’m going to go full ninja-like when I would go out to parties after curfew at Mom or Dad’s. Sneak out at dawn before anyone’s awake and set up at the workshop and then sneak back home after the shops close for dinner. Get back to my room, open a bottle of ‘grape juice’, and get ready to repeat the whole affair tomorrow.

Chapter Text

[Art by PROMOTRON]

Dawn broke on the third day as Cameron snuck into the workshop. The day went by without much fanfare as he went to work on Leopold’s backlog of contraptions and farming implements that needed repair. He’d set up a neat cycle; he’d work for a few hours, Leopold would come in asking how the work was going and then pay him for what work he’d done so far, Cameron then would pay him to get him lunch which Leopold would do cheerfully (taking a cut of the money of course as a transaction fee), then as the shadows grew long Cameron would hand over the rest of his wages as payment for tomorrow’s workshop access. As Cameron left the Leopold Loggle's he slipped into the alleys between houses, this was the most dangerous part of his day, shops were closing but they would all wait a few moments longer in the hopes that their ‘favourite’ customer might drop by.

Cameron navigated Wartwood, ducking behind cover and between buildings as he avoided the relentless salesfrogs. He paused as he passed the town square, there was a ruckus at the far end of town. Suddenly he felt something drop on his shoulder and two small arms wrapped around his neck, “heh, got you!”

Cameron sighed, he had failed the other objective of his commute home, Ivy’s surprise attacks. Apparently, her mother encouraged this behaviour though given her posh and sophisticated mannerisms Cameron couldn’t fathom how, “did you cause whatever that is to distract me?”

Ivy shook his head, hopping off his shoulders onto the ground, “No, but I was on my way over to it. It sounds like Anne and the Plantars are back.”

Cameron’s eyes widened, “well then what are we waiting for?”

Cameron spotted them first, being able to see over the crowd he spied Anne and Marcy dismounting from a large sparrow. As he and Ivy pushed though the crowd he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted to get their attention, “Hey guys!”

Anne and Marcy turned, shock turning into joy as they rushed over slamming into Cameron as he enveloped them in a bear hug.

“Cameron!”

“When did you get here?”

Cameron chuckled, “like three days ago, Felicia was nice enough to offer me a place to stay.” He stepped out of the hug, “hey kiddo long time no see.”

Macy wiped something from her eye, “I’m so glad we found you, we finished charging the music box with the king’s help we can get it working again!”

Cameron patted her on the back, “Awesome! Sounds like I missed all the fun then. A shame, I would have liked to have taken part in a real adventure like that.”

Marcy rubbed her head awkwardly, “Yeah… well I’m sure you’ll get another chance.”

“Anyways you two did good, I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you at Newtopia Anne. I ran into some trouble with the Newtopian army…”

Anne’s eyes widened, “what?”

Cameron shrugged, “I kinda beat up this general Yunan person who was on Sasha’s trail.”

Marcy eyes were also wide, “you beat Yunan?! In a fight?! But she’s the Scourge of the Sand Wars, the Defeater of Ragnar the Wretched, and the youngest newt ever to achieve the rank of general in the great Newtopian Army!”

Cameron looked at Marcy incredulously, “Did you memorize that? Why? What for?”

“That’s simple Cam, she’s a huge dork.” From the other side of the sparrow, Sasha stepped out into view, “just like you.”

A hush fell over the assembled frogs, and then Wally sprung forth, “Sasha’s back to destroy Wartwood! Get her!”

Anne ran between the angry crowd and Sasha, “Wait! She’s not here to fight!”

Cameron’s face twisted in frustration, “Yeah, nope this isn’t happening. Gimme a sec Sash.” Sighting Mayor Toadstool egging the crowd on from the rear, Cameron pushed through the advancing frogs and grabbed the toad by the back of his neck. Leaning in close he hissed into the mayor’s ear, “Put a stop to this right now or I pitch you into the lake.”

Realising that it might be best if cooler attitudes prevailed the mayor coughed and raised his voice, “n-now hold on everyone, let’s hear Anne out before we do something we all might regret.” He glared at Cameron, “I won’t forget this. Consider yourself cut off from ‘grape juice’.”

As the tension died down in the crowd Cameron released his grip on Toadstool’s neck, giving him a friendly pat, “yours tasted like swamp water anyways.”

Anne let out a deep breath, “phew that almost got bad.”

Sasha slowly pulled her hand back from the sword hilt she’d been reaching for, “yeah thanks for the assist Boonchuy.”

Grime poked his head out from behind the sparrow, “Maybe it’s best if I stay back here for a little bit longer…”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” Cameron rejoined the group and stood in front of Sasha arms crossed, “Hey.”

Sasha crossed her arms too, “Sup.”

Cameron grinned and pulled her in for a bear hug, lifting her clean off the ground, “where the hell have you been!”

Laughing Sasha squeezed her brother tight, “All over, I think I’ve seen every corner of amphibia.”

Setting her down Cameron gave her bicep a pinch, “damn bro, you have been lifting?”

Sasha folded her arms self-consciously, “a little I guess, mostly just training…”

Cameron rolled up his sleeves revealing his own toned arms, “none of this modest shit Sash,” he flexed and puffed out his chest a bit, “Come on show me the gun show!” Blushing slightly Sasha raised her arms and flexed. Anne, Marcy, Grime, and the Plantars clapped.

Slightly flustered Sasha quickly changed the subject, “speaking of changes what on earth died on your face?”

Cameron stroked his beard which now was about two inches long, it was thick and full, sharing the same blonde colour as his hair. He’d never grown one before now, but the lack of shaving cream had necessitated a change in his habits, “you don’t like it? I think it makes me look like a Viking.” Sasha rolled her eyes. Cameron narrowed his eyes as he noticed the scar on her cheek, he traced it on his own face, “How’d you get that? It looks nasty.”

Sasha gave an awkward glance over to Anne. Anne silently mouthed, “Sorry.”

Cameron’s face fell as he put the pieces together, “right… yeah we’ll talk about that later, including what you use for training dummies.”

Sasha felt her throat tighten a bit, “what do you-”

Cameron ran a finger across the scar above his right eye, “ran into Yunan right where you did. I saw everything.” He breathed out a heavy sigh, “But let’s table that discussion for now.”

Clearing his throat with a cough Cameron turned to Anne, “so what’s the plan and how can I fit into it?”

“Well, we’re going back to Newtopia in two days so the king can activate the music box and we can go home. Sasha and Captain Grime,” she gestured to the toad captain who had also stepped out from behind the sparrow, “are both wanted by the Newtopian army for desertion. Marcy is good friends with the king and says he’ll be able to pardon them so Sasha can come home too.”

Cameron nodded, “I think I’m going to need that pardon too.”

“It won’t be a problem, King Andrias and I are besties. I am his Chief Ranger after all.” Marcy’s eyes flashed with excitement as she did a little pirouette showing off her ranger gear.

Cameron raised an eyebrow, “I would not have called two of you joining the military, but I guess congrats on the job Marcy.”

Anne suddenly noticed the worried murmurs of the crowd, she turned to her friends, “I think we better take this inside; the villagers can really hold a grudge.”

Hop Pop flailed his arms about, “Anne! Our house can’t fit this many people, there’s just not enough beds.”

Cameron placed a hand on Sasha’s shoulder, “Sasha and…” he looked over at Grime who flashed what he clearly intended to be a winning smile but instead came across as a snarl. Cameron glared at him.

I’ll deal with you later.

Cameron’s face broke into a smile, “the good captain can probably stay with me, I’m sure Felicia wouldn’t mind, especially if I pay extra.”

Anne nodded, “perfect,” she turned to Hop Pop, “why don’t we host a grand reunion dinner here tonight?”

Hop Pop looked over at Sasha and Grime, concern plain on his face, “for everyone Anne?”

“Please Hop Pop, it would mean a lot to me.”

“Fine. But I want you two to be on your best behaviour.” He pointed directly at Sasha and Grime.

Cameron smiled, “great! We’ll be back after we’ve freshened up. Is there anything we can bring?”

“Dessert would be nice.”

Grime let out an evil chuckle, “Then a dessert I shall provide, leave it to me.”

As they walked over to the tea shop Cameron could see Grime rubbing his hands together in evil glee. He pursed his lips, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

Chapter Text

Cameron closed the door to the tea shop’s spare room, “it’s a good thing we’re leaving the day after tomorrow. I’m down to my last pennies from the extra rent.” He looked around the room, “I think we can fashion some cots out of the spare bedding for you two.”

Sasha wrinkled her nose in disgust, “As if, I’m getting the bed.”

“Tough luck, I was here first,” Cameron threw two duvets down on the ground with a soft thump, “put ‘em wherever you want.”

Sasha crossed her arms and grumbled to herself in a mocking tone, “I was here first.”

Cameron narrowed his eyes at her, “Grime, shouldn’t you go start your cake?”

Grime looked up from a recipe sheet he had fished out of his cloak, “goodness you’re right, do you suppose Felicia will mind if I borrow from her pantry?”

Cameron waved a hand dismissively, “If she does, tell her I’ll pay her back.”

Once the toad had left Cameron turned his gaze back to Sasha, “What the hell happened?”

Sasha glowered up at him from her sitting position on the couch. She crossed her arms and legs defiantly, “I have it under control Cam.”

“This isn’t a game, Sash!” Cameron rage’s boiled over, “this is insanity!”

“What exactly do you have a problem with? I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Sword fights. Attempted executions?! And what the hell were those training dummies?!”

Sasha sprung up, “She humiliated me! If she’d just let me do away with those slimy little frogs we’d have all gotten back together way sooner!”

“Are you planning to kill Anne?!”

“No! Never!” Sasha stood up, “I just need Anne and Marcy to remember why I’m the one in charge!”

Cameron walked over and jabbed a finger into Sasha's chest, “No, this crazy shit is over. As of right now, I’m the one in charge, not you. You had your chance to prove you could be responsible on your own and you fucked it up.”

“Language.”

“Shut it!” Cameron dragged his hand across his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Listen, I want you to stop hanging around Grime. From what I’ve heard while tracking you two he’s a brutal monster of a toad that ruled the south of Amphibia with an iron fist. He’s duped you into thinking you’re some kind of hardened warrior, you’re not. You’re a teenage girl who does cheerleading.”

Sasha shoved Cameron sending him stumbling back a pace, “I forgot just how much of an ass you are!”

Cameron snarled, having been caught off guard by her strength he balled his fists.

What am I doing? I’m not going to punch Sash…

Sasha strode forward and stood eye to eye with her brother, “Grime’s had my back through thick and thin over these last few months. He’s the best friend I ever had. He recognizes me and my talents for what they are. But most of all he was there for me, which is more than I can say about you!”

Several emotions crossed Cameron’s face: hurt, shock, but most of all rage, “are you blaming me for not finding you fast enough?!”

Sasha curled her lip, part of her wanted to take back what she’d just said. She knew Cameron had been highly protective of her since their parents divorced, it was a source of pride and anxiety for him that she’d become well accustomed to. It was also a source of insecurity for him, one she could exploit to really hurt him, “I guess you didn’t try hard enough.” Something twisted down in Sasha's stomach as she saw the look that passed over Cameron's face as she spoke.

Cameron stood dumbfounded; mouth slightly agape as he tried to come up with something to say in response. His face twisted into frustration and a slight wetness twinkled in his eyes, “well… fuck off.” Turning, and wiping something from his eye, Cameron paused at the door, “No mention of this at dinner, I don’t want to ruin anyone’s night with an argument.” Not waiting for a response, he stepped out of the room, slamming the door hard as he left.

Waiting until his footsteps were fully gone Sasha collapsed back into the couch and put her head in her hands, “why am I like this?”

Downstairs Cameron shook himself and gritted his teeth, sniffing as he tried to stop his nose from running. He spied Grime hard at work on his cake, he was packing practically and entire factory’s worth of chocolate into the thing. Taking a deep breath to calm himself narrowed his eyes, “alright, that didn’t work. Let’s try a new angle.”
Walking up Cameron peer over Grime’s shoulder at the cake, “I see it’s coming along well.”

Grime nodded, “the key is to really pack the eggs deep inside.”

Raising an eyebrow Cameron looked around at the kitchen, “I didn’t know they had chickens here.”

“What’s a chicken?”

“Never mind, I don’t think I want to know the details.” He pursed his lips, “Can I speak to you for a moment Grime?”

The toad captain dusted flour and chocolate from his hands, “of course, what about.”

“I want you to relieve Sasha of duty.”

Grime raised his eyebrow, “and why should I do that?”

Cameron straightened, he stood almost two feet taller than the toad, “you’re picking a bad day to test my patience, toad.”

Grime shrugged, turning back to his cake, “It doesn’t matter we’re not part of the toad army anymore.”

“Don’t play dumb. You went to North Tower, and since you’re not in chains at Newtopia you worked something out.”

“You’re shrewd for a human.”

“Oh, I could run rings around you Grimmy boy. I know you got Sasha to sign up by offering her power and people to boss around. I haven’t figured out why you and Sasha wanted to reunite her with Anne and Marcy, but you can’t hide your motivations forever.”

“Weren’t you listening? We want the king to pardon us.”

Cameron waved his hand dismissively, “I’m sure that’s part of it but I can tell you’ve got something else going on. So, I say again, dismiss Sasha. I’ll not have my sister get tied up in more danger thanks to you.”

“Why are you coming to me in the first place?” Grime sat down and sipped tea from a flour-dusted cup, “Sasha’s not under some kind of contract or deal, she’s here by her own free will. Just ask her yourself to leave the army if you’re so fixated on it.” Seeing Cameron’s face he chuckled, “Unless of course you already tried that.”

Cameron slammed his hands down on the table, “I can and will fold you into that cake Grime, I doubt anyone around here would care too much.”

“I know one person who might.”

“She’d get over it.”

“You seem to know her better than me then.” Grime continued to sip on his tea, “do you know what your problem is Waybright?”

Cameron barred his teeth, “enlighten me.”

“You’re not happy Sasha is making her own decisions.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m trying to stop Sasha from ruining her life by following along with whatever megalomaniacal scheme you’ve cooked up. She’s free to live her life however she wants but I’m going to stop her from making stupid mistakes like this whether she likes it or not.”

“Some people would call that being overbearing.”

“And some people would call it being a responsible older brother. Anyways, who asked you?” Cameron brought himself to Grime’s eye level, “If I get so much as a whiff of danger from you, I will end you myself, no matter how good of a friend Sasha thinks you are.”

Grime finished his tea and rose, “whatever makes you comfortable, I’m going to go change for dinner. Could you keep an eye on the cake? Make sure it doesn’t buzz.”

Cameron looked over at the cake, perplexed, “buzz? What kind of cake is this?” When Grime didn’t answer he turned to find he was alone in the kitchen. Letting out a snort of frustration Cameron sat at one of the tea tables, staring at the cake. He furrowed his brow and glared at one decorative feature Grime had made to look like a face, “what are you looking at bitch?”. After a brief starring contest with the inanimate object he turned away, "Okay you might have a point... fuck, what do I do now?"

Chapter Text

Pain, not physical, but certainly pain. It beat through his head as if a marching band had decided to make camp right between his ears.

Cameron scrunched his eyes closed as he tried to process the last few minutes. Frustration boiled up inside and he raised his fist to slam it down on the table but instead awkwardly brought it down palm open to gently rest on the fine linen tablecloth. He let out a muted snarl, how had he lost both arguments? He wasn’t being unreasonable, was he? No, Sasha was being unreasonable, she was out of control and acting completely irrationally. He’d heard the stories; he’d seen the evidence. He needed to be more forceful, he couldn’t take no for an answer! He should march up there right now, kick Grime’s war criminal ass, confiscate Sasha’s sword and force her to sit in a corner until she apologized to Anne and the Plantars for almost killing them! No, he should make her crawl on her knees to them and beg Anne’s forgiveness! She should appreciate all the blood, sweat, and shit he’d had to crawl through in this hell hole of a swamp on the off chance of finding her and-

He slouched back down into his chair.

Great ideas Einstein, but I’m not sure they make this whole situation volatile enough.

“Come on, man, think.” Cameron cupped his head in his hands, “You’re the adult here. Adult.”

It turned out, in Cameron’s adult opinion, that his best course was to play it cool and pretend as if nothing had taken place, at least for now. His new plan was to just keep an eye on things and deal with problems as they arose. Maybe he was being too hard on Sasha. Maybe she had changed.

“I. Haven’t. Changed!”

Sasha’s voice, though quite muffled through the tea shop walls, was unmistakable. Cameron grimaced, “I’m sure I’m hearing that out of context…”

Climbing the stairs to the room he popped his head in to see Sasha emptying her boots of daggers and Grime’s dry remark, “How did you even walk?”

Clearing his throat with a cough Cameron made his presence known, “Am I interrupting something?”

Sasha locked eyes with him and gave her boot one last shake as a dainty stiletto tumbled out onto the pile, “Have you heard of knocking?”

Grime chimed in, “not at all, interrupting that is.” He was sporting a fine coat adorned with a fur trimmed red cloak, “Sasha was just telling me how we should be on our best behaviour tonight, is that right?”

Cameron watched as both Sasha and Grime glared back and forth at each other. He sighed, despite his better judgement he chose not to engage with whatever drama had just transpired, “well I think that’s and excellent idea Sash, I’m sure Anne would really appreciate it.”

Grime nodded, “exactly.”

Sasha crossed her arms, “I’m glad we all agree then.”

Feeling the tension in the room Cameron groaned under his breath, “could I have the room to change now?”

Sasha turned her back on him and walked out the room with Grime following close behind, “all yours.”

“Wait… are you wearing armour over to the Plantars’?” The door slammed before Cameron could hear a response.

Cameron gave his tie a frustrated tug. He’d worn them plenty of times before but usually Mom or Dad would have tied them for him. Still, for a first attempt without an internet connection, he’d done pretty well, but the tail kept ending up longer than he wanted. In the end, he’d taken the vest from his suit and had tucked the tie into that to hide the length mess. The vest also helped him conceal a short dagger in a sheath tucked under his right arm. He wasn’t going unarmed around Grime, no matter how friendly he seemed.

Stepping out the room Cameron met Sasha and Grime outside the tea shop. Sasha’s dour expression neatly contrasted Grime’s devilish glee as he threw a sheet over his cake which sat atop a small cart he’d borrowed from Felicia. Smiling with false exuberance Cameron clapped his hands, “alright, party time.” Walking over to Grime he held his finger to his mouth and slid a large bottle underneath the cloth, “I think the grown-ups deserve a treat too.”

Grime gave a toothy grin, “I knew there was something about you I liked Waybright.”

Cameron and Sasha walked on either side of Grime in total silence as they made their way towards the Plantars’ farm. It was a clear, quiet, evening with the last rays of sunlight turning the sky a beautiful gold as twilight turned to dusk. Cameron gave a quick glance over at Sasha. She was stone-faced, and looked utterly disinterested in everything that was transpiring.

“hey Sash, I…”

“What?”

Cameron's lip curled at her dismissive tone.

Naw, fuck this. She can apologize to me first.

He turned his head away, lacing his tone with venom, “Nothing.” Sasha was slightly caught off guard by the vitriol in his voice but quickly turned her own head away.

Grime looked over at the sunset, “isn’t the setting sun so beautiful? I always feel that it helps me forget all the troubles and worries of the day.”

Cameron had to stop himself from snorting with laughter at the toad’s antics. He was clearly trying to be a peacemaker and was a shrewd diplomat. However, his monstrous appearance just made his attempts to come across as genuine seem overly comedic. He nodded, “The sunset is quite beautiful, it always reminds me of being out on a boat fishing at last light.”

Sasha groaned, “It was the only good part, everything else was so gross. The slimy fish, the dirty worm bucket. I don’t get what you and Dad like about it so much.”

Killing slimy helpless creatures, yeah, what kind of monster would take pleasure in that?

Cameron smiled as he bit back the remark, “Fishing isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, it’s more an excuse to get out on a boat than anything else.”

Grime shrugged, “In Amphibia, fishing is a grand affair where almost all lose their lives to the great behemoths of the deep, but those who survive are showered in the glory of the hunt! I once knew one toad who set off to catch a pike…”

Cameron coughed, “Sorry to interrupt, but I think we’re here.”

The trio stood awkwardly outside the Plantar farmhouse. Cameron stepped forward and rapped his knuckles on the door. A moment later the door swung open to reveal Anne wearing a purple and white dress with diamond patterns laced onto it.

Cameron gave a grin, “Hello everybody! You didn’t start without us, did you?”

As he stepped through the door frame his large frame revealed Sasha and Grime standing sinisterly behind him (though Grime was making his best effort to appear amiable). Hop Pop recoiled, Polly pushed him forward, and Sprig ducked behind the couch loading his slingshot.

“Stay back scum!”

“Don’t kill me!”

“Take Hop Pop! He’s old!”

A glare and a cough from Anne caused them to relax.

“I mean. How’s it going?”

Grime stepped through, pulling the cake behind him as he did, “my sincere thanks for the kind invitation.” He looked around, his face falling somewhat, “your home is… sufficient for habitation.” Wheeling the cake over to Hop Pop he puff out his chest proudly, “I baked a vol-cake-no! It needs a little more time to rise, but it’s sure to end the night with a devastating explosion of chocolaty goodness.”

“Eh… thanks… I’ll just put it over here.”

Cameron pushed past Anne, “Thanks for organizing this, Anne. Hop Pop wait I need to get something out of there first!”

“Well girls, looks like we’re all finally back together again!”

Cameron winced slightly as the high-pitched squeal pierced his ears.

Polly's eyes were wide as she covered her ears, “Human friendships are loud!”

Cameron glared over at her, “Don’t you lump me in with them!”

Cameron stood beside Marcy arms crossed as he watched Hop Pop flip mushrooms on Frobo’s open mouth. The frobot had a grill placed over his exposed reactor which was burning red hot. Cameron grimaced, “first things first, please tell you we’re not eating food cooked on an ancient reactor tonight.”

“naw it’s perfectly safe, see.” Marcy gestured to the glowing parts of Frobo, “That’s just his heat sink running at full capacity, Frobo’s basically an electric stove top.”

Cameron scratched his beard, “okay yes, I see now. Follow up question, where did you lot find a robot?”

“Frobot.”

“I’m not calling it that.”

“He’s a frog robot, his name’s Frobo.”

Cameron took a long sip from his glass of ‘juice’, “and I thought Ribbitvale was on the nose.” Realizing his glass was now empty he gazed down into it dejectedly, “So Marcy I heard Maddie took you on as an apprentice, learn any interesting spells?”

Marcy’s eyes widened and a grin spread across her face as she began babbling, “Yeah! I mean, kinda? I helped bring this flea back to life, but its head did fall off... Oh! Oh! But I did totally save the day when a bunch of tadpoles turned themselves into giants and were going to crush the village!”

Marcy’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Cameron had to force himself to not smile, “Okay, I understand it’s exciting (it’s taking all my willpower to not start obsessing over magic right now) but let’s cool the jets on the dark magic stuff. Maybe do a bit more conjuration and a little less necromancy.”

Marcy gave an evil grin and rubbed her hands mischievous, “but Cameron, I’m a master of life and death now! The laws of nature bow before me as their master!”

They both broke out into laughter, unable to keep a straight face at Marcy’s antics. Cameron wiped a tear from his eyes, “Okay, but if you start a zombie apocalypse, I’m denying I ever met you.”

Marcy was giggling, “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Seeing Hop Pop walking by with the bottle Cameron waved over to him, “hey Hop Pop! Can I get a refill!”

Marcy held up her glass too, “Same here Hop Pop, I’m running dry!”

Cameron and Hop Pop exchanged a glance, “er… actually this one’s empty. I- ah- I don’t even know why I’m carrying it around, silly old Hop Pop, going senile I guess. Heh heh heh…”

Cameron made a big show of patting the old frog on his back, “Now, now, Hop Pop don’t be too hard on yourself it’s only natural for a frog of your age to be a bit forgetful. Why don’t you let me help you find a full bottle? You stay here Marcy we’ll be back in a tick after I help the old fella out.” Cameron winced as Hop Pop ground his heel down onto Cameron’s foot, “not that you’re old of course, probably just all the excitement- ow! All the exertion of party planning- ack! Uh, forgetfulness isn’t necessarily a sign of age, everyone gets brain farts from time to time.” He leaned in and whispered, “Okay, you’ve your point can you just stop assaulting my foot!”

Hop Pop smirked, “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was still standing on your foot, us old fogeys are so forgetful sometimes.”

“Why you- bah, just get me another drink.”

Things soon began to deteriorate at the party. Cameron was forced to sit and silently watch as Sasha and Sprig almost came to blows over who got to sit next to Anne. Things did not improve as the night went on. Sasha’s attempts at reminiscing with Anne and Marcy quickly turned to them pointing out how they often got in trouble because of her ideas. This was followed up by a truly skin-crawling series of comments and jokes traded between Hop Pop and Grime that left Cameron wishing he hadn’t shared his ‘grape juice’ with the two. He also wished he had more to drown the awkwardness he was feeling at this moment.

Standing up Cameron gestured inside, “Just gonna go refill my glass.” He gave a wry smile, “No fighting while I’m gone… heh… eh…” he walked away quickly before the moment became even more awkward, “This is worse than Christmas...” Pulling the cork out of the bottle Cameron poured the last few drops into his glass, giving the bottle a quick shake to get the last remaining droplets out. He was setting the bottle back down when the sound of tremendous crash sounded from outside. Rushing out, glass in hand, Cameron took a deep breath and prepared to start berating Sasha, “One request! I had one! No fight and now what’s this I find!” he paused as he rounded the door frame and came into view of the scene as everyone was scrambling to pick up fallen plates, “uh… well…what?”

Grime grinned sheepishly, “apologies Mr. Waybright, my enthusiasm got the better of me, you see I do love a good game of drawsidoodle.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright I think everyone was finished eating anyhow.”

Cameron blinked a couple times and then down his glass in one gulp, “well… good.” He snapped his fingers, “let’s… uh… keep that enthusiasm going.”

Somehow drawsidoodle was going both better and worse than the dinner had been. The prompts were all locally known references and having spent the least time amongst local civilization Cameron was at a total loss for all of them.

He watched as Sasha drew something that looked vaguely tree-like on the easel. He scratched his chin.

Okay the last ones were a famous rebellion and an obscure animal. This has got to be some famous tree that they use as a landmark around here. Maybe it’s called Wartwood Tree? No… that’s too dumb… on the other hand ridiculous names seem to be norm around here…

“Ooh, Ooh! Toad Tower exploding!” Polly held her arms up to emphasize ‘exploding’, “When we blew it up? Toppled the toad army? Come on! You guys were there.”

Cameron’s head snapped to look over at her, mumbling under his breath, “Don’t…”

Anne looked sideways at Grime, “I’m not sure that’s-”

“No, I Polly’s right. That top bit’s where Anne chose us. You know, over her friendship with Sasha.”

Cameron’s mouth was slightly agape as he tried to process what was transpiring, “okay, what the hell guys?”

“Oh, and there she is letting go of Anne’s hand and plummeting to her possible death.”

Cameron stood up, “what the fuck did you just say?”

Everything descended into shouting then as Cameron, Sprig, Polly, Sasha, and Hop Pop began throwing insults back and forth while Marcy, Anne, and Grime did their best to calm everyone down.

“It’s a tree! You morons! A Tree!”

“No talksies while you drawsies. Ten minutes in the shame corner!”

“What is wrong with all of you? Are you trying to start a fight?!”

“We just calls it likes we sees it.”

“Yeah, that was the most toad tower-looking tree I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh no! You knew it was a tree, I knew it was a tree! Everyone knew it was a f- hecking tree!”

“Pfft. Then why didn’t you say so? I don’t think you knew at all.”

“Anyways, we can’t keep playing until Sasha puts the shame hat on. It’s the rules.”

“No one is putting the shame hat on!”

Sasha threw the easel with a ferocious snarl, sending it hurtling out the window above Anne and Marcy’s head.

“Woah, Sasha!”, Anne stood up from the couch.

Cameron turned, “Can you keep your damn temper in check for a second so I can diffuse the situation?!”

“My temper? You’re the one shouting at everyone!”

The two siblings turned to each other with fire in their eyes.

“I’m de-escalating the situation, you’re escalating it! Just let me handle this, Sash!”

“you’re not handling it! You’re just being loud!”

“Well, if you give me a chance to do something maybe I could change that!”

“Just sit down and let me deal with Anne’s weird frog family’s prejudices!”

Anne walked up and placed herself between Sasha and the Plantars, “They’re doing their best. Pretty good considering you did try to kill them.”

Cameron saw the look that crossed Sasha’s face, “don’t!”

Sasha glared at him, “You’re taking their side? That’s your guys’ whole game plan, isn’t it? To gang up on me!”

“Were you even listening to how this all started? I’m on your side Sash!”

Sprig pointed a finger, “I knew it, he’s been on Sasha’s side this whole time, he was playing the long game!”

Cameron whirled around, “No! There are no sides!”

The bickering continued now as Anne and Sasha began trading barbs while Cameron argued with the Plantars.

Cameron could feel his care around swear words slipping as his temper grew. Blood rushed through his ears and his knuckles had turned white from clenching his fists. From behind he heard Marcy and Grime trying to calm down Anne and Sasha. At the same time Sprig going off about how Cameron was just like Sasha and was going to betray them all. As the built up inside both siblings, they opened their mouths in unison, both planning on saying very different (yet equally damning) things.

“Oh, yeah? Well-”
“Oh, yeah? Well-”

Thankfully for all involved their tirades were broken off as the entire house shook. With a whistle of steam, the vol-cake-no erupted taking the roof of the Plantars’ house clean off as it did so.

“Ooh, dessert! Yummy!”

Cameron hopped onto the armchair he had abandoned at the start of the arguments, clinging to it for dear life as a lake of molten chocolate filled the house. Stamping out a piece of the fabric that had caught fire he looked around quickly to make sure everyone else had gotten to safety. Fortunately, it seemed no one was too worse for wear and they were all safely atop bits of furniture that were now floating in the lake of chocolate lava. Cameron remained perfectly still so as not to upset the balance of his perch, “Grime! What the hell is this?”

“The vol-cake-no is a toad favourite. Every feast ends in a delicious dessert battle.” Grime glanced around, “Do frogs not do that?”

Seven angry voices answered him, “No!”

“Well don’t worry, it’s delicious. Assuming you survive the hornets.”

Cameron groaned, “Oh no, the eggs…” Sure, enough hornets began swarming out the cake’s orifices. They numbered about eight in total with large red compound eyes and even larger stingers, nearly as thick as Cameron’s hand.

Grime chuckled, “They’re the best part, but beware their stingers cause-” There was a hiss and a thud. Grime froze for a second and then toppled over, muttering through closed lips, “…paralysis.”

Cameron watched in horror as the hornets began firing their stingers as projectiles, “what kind of evolutionary arms raced spawned this abomination?” He ducked his head as a stinger sailed over it, landing in the chocolate lava lake with a dull splash. As the hornet ‘reloaded’ its stinger it dived for Cameron, mandibles open wide. With a lurch Cameron sprung up and grabbed the hornet by what passed for its neck, sending him and his new ride springing off over the chocolate lava lake. Holding the snapping mandibles away from his face and kicking at the hornet’s abdomen to keep its stinger pointed away from him Cameron could do little more than hope the hornet stayed airborne long enough for the chocolate to cool.

Far below him, he spotted Marcy firing the spent stingers back at the hornets causing them to drop. He looked up into the snapping face of his ride, “So, you’re not immune to your own toxin then?” Twisting his legs around he grabbed the stinger between his feet and pulled it free. As the hornet convulsed, he shouted down, “Can someone tell me when the chocolate isn’t red hot anymore?”

Anne’s voice called back to him, “It’s starting to cool now!”

Reaching into his vest Cameron pulled out his dagger and jammed it into the hornet’s eye. The bug threw its head back, screeching in pain. As it was distracted Cameron dropped the dagger and reached down, grabbing the stinger with his free hand. He felt a small prick, “Oh shit, gotta act fast.” Already feeling his muscles tensing up he swung and slid the sting into the hornet’s abdomen. Instantly the two fell from the sky landing in the now only slightly hot chocolate. Frantically Cameron dragged himself onto a floating table but was only able to make it halfway before his whole body froze up. Thankfully the chocolate followed suit soon after, solidifying at an astounding rate.
Unable to turn his head Cameron remained frozen in place, both by hornet toxin but also by the solid block of chocolate that now encased his lower torso. He gazed down at the table surface, unable to blink or move his mouth much, “could somebody get me some eye drops?”

Slowly control came back to his limbs and he turned around to see Anne and Sasha hugging while everyone else looked on. He raised his hand, “Hey! Sweet moment, I approve, but what the hell guys!?”

Since he was effectively uncased in his own desert Cameron was given a knife and fork to extricate himself. Sawing off a chunk of chocolate he shouted over to Hop Pop, “screw this I’m the dropping the pretenses, Hop Pop I need a drink of wine!”

Chapter Text

Cameron groaned as he rolled out of bed, the burning rays of midmorning having finally become too much to bear. He cursed as he fumbled for the glass of water he’d set beside his bed, “fucking hell.” A hangover headache pounded behind his eyes along with a general feeling of malaise. Snatching the glass, he downed most of it and tossed the rest in his face. Wiping his face dry on his shirt he stood up. Sasha and Grime were gone, their sleeping cots empty. Walking over to the window he groaned as he saw the sun was a decent way up in the sky, it was probably sometime around 10 or 11 o’clock.

Hopping into a cold shower and dressing quickly Cameron made his way downstairs. Strangely Felicia was not tending the shop. Frowning Cameron snatched a scone from the kitchen, placing a copper piece where it had been. With breakfast secured he headed outside and was greeted by a barrage of noises and poorly tuned musical instruments. Cameron winced and covered his ears, still slightly hungover and quite sensitive to loud noise. Skipping through the bustling frogs he spied Captain Grime's head in his direction. Gingerly Cameron removed his hands from his ears and waved over to the toad, “Hey! Where are you off to?”

Grime gave Cameron a devilish look as he rubbed his hands together, “to practice of course, my performance must be flawless.”

Cameron stared at him blankly, “I thought I told you no scheming.”

“You misunderstand Mr. Waybright. See, the mayor just announced that there is to be an event tonight and using his wheel of fun it was decided that the event would be a battle of the bands.” Grime placed a hand on his chest, “since I have never lost a battle, I intend to spend the rest of the day practicing so that I might obliterate my competition on the field of musical talent. Now if you’ll excuse me, every second spent idling chit-chatting is a second lost practicing!”

“Wait, so we have to come up with a song?”, Before Cameron could have his questions answered however Grime hurried off, still rubbing his hand together in glee. Cameron scowled, “great, what the hell am I going to do? I barely know how to play piano let alone write a whole song myself…” Suddenly a slow smile crept across his face, “buuuuut… I could totally preform an established piece… Hey Toadstool!”

The mayor turned, slightly annoyed, “I already told you, I’m not selling you more wine.”

“Screw the wine, what are the rules for the battle of the bands?”

The mayor shrugged, “Play music, and if the judges like it enough you’ll win.”

“Nothing else?”

A frown crossed Toadstool’s face, “if you’re thinking of causing trouble the laws of Wartwood still apply and you will be punished if you break them.”

Cameron waved his hand dismissively, “well duh, don’t worry I just wanted to clarify something.”

Back in the tea shop’s spare room Cameron began scrolling through his music library, “no way I’m getting an electric guitar here so this one’s out… this one’s a bit too adult… wait!” he beamed as he looked down at his screen, “of course, it’s perfect!”

Cameron found Maddie in her usual spot deep in the wood, she looked up as he approached, “Hey Cameron, back with more magic questions?”

Cameron smiled sheepishly, “Well yes, but actually no. Do you have a band for tonight?”

“No, I’m not really one for music, at least not the kind that anyone else likes to listen to… also I’m not much of a musician…”

Cameron gave a sly grin, “well how are you at making things go bang?” he held out his phone and pressed play.

Maddie’s eyes widened as she listened to the music, “you use explosives in your music back on earth?”

“Not usually, but this is a special piece.” Cameron paused the music and pocketed his phone, “So, what do you think? Care to join my orchestra?”

Maddie gave an evil grin and picked up two flasks labelled ‘danger: explosive’, “You betcha!”

By mid afternoon set up was well underway and Cameron had assembled the necessary equipment for his production of the 1812 Overture. He giggled a little to himself as he watched Maddie pour a small test amount of explosive power down the barrel of one of the twenty-one cannons that now filled the grove.

“Mr. Waybright could you please be quiet, else I’ll never finish this music sheet.”

“Sorry, Stitch.” Cameron winced again at the small frog glare and mouthed ‘sorry’.

The two tailors had been eager to join his production after hearing it would be a classical piece. The cannons had put them off somewhat but after Cameron agreed to purchase a tailored tailcoat they threw their musical talent behind the production whole heartedly. Along with their musical talent (without which Cameron was quickly realizing the whole endeavor would have never gotten of the ground) they contributed their own one-frog band instrument design which Snip was assembling nearby.

The devices looked like something out of Dr. Seuss, twisting pipes of brass and all manner of bells and whistles stuck out at odd angles. Leaving Stitch with his phone Cameron walked over and peered down the neck of a what was apparently the tuba of the set, “So how does this thing work?”

Snip wiped grease from his hands of a kerchief, “Well it’s a matter of some very clever vale setups and breath control. Certainly not for beginners. Also needs a lot of direction, have you conducted before?”

Cameron shook his head, “first time in any real capacity. I led scale practice a couple of times in middle school but otherwise all I know about conducting comes from movies and bugs bunny.”

“Well, I think we’ve got a good feel of the music so all you really need to do is memorize what should be playing when and signalling to Maddie when the cannons need to fire.” Snip gave an experimental blow through the mouthpiece of his instrument and ran his fingers over the keys producing a quick ditty, “As a conductor, your job is to keep track of everything, correct us when mistakes happen, and generally make sure the music fits the vision you have for it.”

Cameron scratched his beard, “Hmm, yeah okay I think I can manage that.”

“Sheets are done!” Stitch walked up waving a small packet of papers, “lets get practicing.”

Cameron sat behind the stage humming the tune to himself as he ran the production through his mind one last time. He opened his eyes at the sound of a voice calling his name, “Cam! Where have you been all day?” Sasha was walking over. She cocked an eyebrow at Cameron’s outfit, “What on earth are you wearing?”

The two siblings couldn’t have been dressed more differently. Sasha was rocking a full punk rocker getup complete with ragged hoodie, eyeliner, and spiked-up hair. Every inch of her body was covered in either dark red, black, or a shade of grey. Beneath her hoodie she had a dark grey t-shirt with a broken black heart displayed on her chest.

Conversely, Cameron bore quite a refined look. His hair and beard had been trimmed and combed thoroughly. He’d waxed his moustache so that it formed a neat shape above his lip and he’d parted his hair to one side. He wore a black tuxedo with tails, immaculately tailored to fit his frame by Stitch and Snip. His hands were covered by dainty white gloves and he was wearing the same dress shoes he’d bought with his first suit now that the chocolate had been fully cleaned out of them.

“Oh hey Sash, I see you’ve got your heartbreaker shirt. Is that what you and the girls are going to be playing tonight?”

Sasha averted her gaze, “uh, yeah… well actually Anne and Marcy wanted to do this other song Anne wrote so we decided it’d be best if we… uh.”

Cameron looked down at Toadie who was hiding behind Sasha’s leg, his heavily waxed mustache twitched, “did you even listen to her song idea before you ditched them?”

Sasha scowled, dodging the question, “You didn’t answer me, why are you dressed like a penguin?”

Cameron gave a sly grin, “Because I’m conducting an orchestra.” His sly grin turned mischievous, “…and an artillery battery.” He pointed over to where Maddie was wheeling one of the cannons over.

Sasha mouthed opened slightly, closed, and then opened again, “…what?”

“Tchaikovsky’s 1812 overture. It has cannons as part of the orchestra.”

“Cam, cannons are not instruments.”

“Yes they are and I’m going to use twenty-one of them.”

“Cam, no.”

“Cam, yes!”

Cameron watched from the crowd as Anne and Marcy took the stage, he had been disappointed that Sasha had elected to do her own thing but at least they weren’t at each others throats anymore. He sighed, small victories and all that. As Anne waved out to the crowd Cameron stuck two fingers from each hand in his mouth and left out a piercing whistle, then he let out a whoop and started clapping, “Marcy and Anne, let’s go girls! You got this!”

He saw their faces light up as the crowd joined him. The song started off well, both girls had musical talent but as they approached the stinger Cameron could tell Anne was getting nervous. In their band back home Sasha had always been lead guitar, partly because she always wanted- no, needed, to be the leader of the band, but also because she had undeniable skill.

Cameron chewed his lip a little, murmuring under his breath, “Come on Anne, you got this.”

When the guitar solo rang up to perfection Cameron jolted upright, then he saw Sasha entering the stage and realized what had happened, “so damn dramatic.”

Standing up so that he rose from the crowd like a mountain from the ocean he let out a cheer, “Yeah! Woo! Let’s go!”

The rest of the song was perfection, when it was over Cameron pushed his way to the front stepping over protesting frogs as he made his way up to the three girls. Clambering up onto the stage he raised his hands, “high fives all round champs, that was awesome!” As Sasha went for the high five he wrapped her in a bear hug, then leaned in close so the others couldn’t hear, “I’m so proud of you Sash.”

Sasha blushed, “Yeah… well they needed my help. Couldn’t leave my girls hanging”

Smiling warmly Cameron patted her on the back, “Let me help you clear the stage for Grime. Hey Toadie! Need a new band?”

As Cameron walked off to recruit Toadie and move the drum set Sasha stood alone for a moment; Grime waddled onto stage carrying a harp that was twice as tall as he was. As he passed her they locked eyes. Grime scowled as he saw the uncertainty behind Sasha’s gaze, he hissed at her, “too late for second thoughts now lieutenant.”

Sasha grabbed Grime’s collar frantically, “Pulling a fast one on Anne and Marcy is one thing, but Cameron is too much.”

Grime wriggled free of her grasp, “then we’ll have to think of something to clear your conscience, let’s talk after the show.”

Grime’s performance was a complete shocker, Cameron had thought the girls were shoo-in, but Grime’s melody was flawless. When the performance finished there wasn’t a dry eye in the swamp. Cameron was sitting beside Sasha, using a handkerchief from his tuxedo pocket to wipe away some dust that had caught in his eye, or at least so he claimed. Sasha who was struggling to maintain her mascara looked up at him with puffy eyes, “Guess neither of us are winning this one Cam.”
Cameron cleaned the last of the moisture from his eyes, “If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging, just you watch me Sash.”

As Stitch and Snip paraded their contraptions on stage Cameron addressed the audience, “Friends, I must profess that this performance will not be a display of skill equal to that of the esteemed captain.” He gestured to Grime who laughed bashfully, “So I instead bring you a sampling of human culture. This piece of music was written just under two hundred years ago by a human composer named Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. It commemorates the defeat of a tyrant as he tried to invade a foreign land.”

With the instruments assembled Cameron walked over to a bag he’d stowed by the edge of the stage for emergencies. Reaching in he pulled out his laser sword. Snip had found him a perfectly serviceable conductor’s baton but after Grime’s performance, he decided he needed all the spectacle he could muster.

The performance started off mellow, boring even, glancing at the crowd Cameron could see some of the frogs were even nodding off. He grinned mischievously. He had kept a curtain obscuring the cannons. Toadie, now without a band of his own had happily joined the crew and was standing by to reveal them at the proper juncture. As the music began to build, he saw the audience begin to stir, some even stood, ready to start clapping politely assuming he was about to reach the end of the piece.

Fools.
The horns raised in volume as the energy built ever higher, he saw some of the frogs begin to get nervous as the stage shuddered from the violent intensity. Then with a resounding boom, the first cannon volley went off and everyone was instantly awake. Birds sleeping in nearby trees took flight and some of the timider frogs hid underneath their chairs. Cameron waved his sword like a madman, and then just as quickly as it had escalated the melody relaxed. The crowd was tense, but began to ease, at least until Toadie began ringing the town bell.
Cameron let out a maniacal laugh as the town bell began to trill out. He could see Toadie bouncing along on the bell rope like a yoyo. Maddie joined his maniacal laughter as she poured more and more explosive powder down the barrels of the cannons of the finale. The finale began and the cannons boomed out their final notes in concert with the bell shaking the stage as if a great beast at grabbed hold of it.

With a sharp flick of his wrist Cameron brought the music to a halt. The silence the followed was deafening. He turned to the judges who were frozen in place and bowed along with Stitch, Snip, Maddie, and Toadie.

In the end Grime was declared the winner, with the girls the runners up. Cameron was banned from musical productions in Wartwood indefinitely by Mayor Toadstool.

Chapter Text

Cameron grumbled under his breath as he packed up his belongings, “danger to the public indeed. Bunch of uncultured, backward, hick jerks.” He looked at the last thing laid out on the bed, a torn music sheet from the previous night, scowling he folded it neatly and tucked it into the side of the bag. The fallout from his performance for the Battle of the Bands had been intense, with Mayor Toadstool calling for his arrest and some others for his execution. Without intervention from Anne, he might have come to blows with the town residents. He continued muttering, this time with a pitch of rage, “Stupid fat ass mayor… should have done everyone a favour and pitched him into the lake with the giant snakes.”

Peering through the open crack of the door Grime watched the young man with a lidded eye. Sasha fidgeted nervously behind him. The toad Captain grinned, “You know I can really see the resemblance.”

Sasha looked up, “I’m not in the mood for philosophy Grime.”

The toad turned to her, “I mean he doesn’t have quite the same verbal bite as you do, but when the Mayor threatened to throw him in prison and Cameron blew up at him?” He wiped his brow, “Whew! Waybright rage is nothing to laugh at. And he’s twice my size! I bet he could have lifted old mayor Toadstool like a sack of flour, the three of us together would be unstoppable!”

Sasha tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair, with all the other emotions going through her head at the moment it didn’t take much to annoy her, “If you’re done fawning over my brother, snap back to reality.” Her face fell, “there’s no way he’d help me- I mean us, out. He’s fully focused on getting back home.” She folded her arms, “besides, have you forgotten what happened right before dinner with Anne’s weird frog family? When he tried to chew us both out?"

Grime raised an eyebrow, “Oh I see it now.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes, “you see what?”

“You’re worried he’d be in charge,” he drew close to Sasha, “he is the older brother, much more experience, much more mature…” he tapped his chin pensively, “I’d bet he’d have a great plan for taking the city, given how smart you’ve told me he is…”

Sasha raised her fist as if to punch Grime, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

A violent bang interrupted them as Cameron kicked the door open, he paused, observing the scene frozen before him, “Am I… uh… interrupting something?”

Grime grinned at Sasha, then turned, “Actually we were just talking about you, Mr. Waybright.”

Cameron’s eyebrow raised, a wry smile crossing his face, “About me huh?”

Sasha grabbed Grime’s cloak and hissed into his ear, “What are you doing?”

Grime shook her off, “now Cameron, your sister has been very kind and helpful towards my people, far more so than others in the kingdom.” He grinned winningly, “I was hoping I might find a similar sentiment in you, being an educated and worldly man, I know you’d champion the cause of the underdog and the oppressed.”

Cameron self-consciously stroked his beard in a thoughtful manner at Grime’s compliment, but his eyes were still hard, “forgive me captain but from what I’ve heard you and your toads ran this part of the world like your own personal kingdom, hardly an underdog tale.”

Grime looked sadly at the floor, “I can easily see how it might appear so to you sir but believe me when I say I had no choice in the life I was brought up to lead.” He wiped what might have been a tear from his eye, “have you ever seen a toad living an honest life? We are brought up as soldiers and bullies because that’s what the kingdom wants from us. From the day we are born, we are branded as brutes, fit only for soldiery and thug work.”

Cameron paused for a moment but then his brow furrowed, “Alright, let’s pretend as if I believe you so far, what about the mayor? He seems to be living life to the fullest.”

“Mayor Toadstool is the exception that proves the rule, but even he is not free from prejudice. He has a duty to the kingdom to oversee the town and manage its finances, and for his efforts, he is called ‘moneys bags’ and greedy. I’ve even heard some call him fat just because he is larger than the frogs he lives among, when in fact he is in perfect shape for a toad of his age.”

Grime saw Cameron’s eyes glaze over in realization and let out a little snort of satisfaction. He had him, hook, line, and sinker.

Sasha realized what Grime was attempting, she chimed in, “I know Anne told you all those things that I and the toads did, but it wasn’t fully our fault. The kingdom orders toads to maintain law and order, Hop Pop ran for mayor and so by Newtopian law, he was a traitor which Grime and I were ordered to bring to justice.” As she made a pleading, puppy dog-like face at Cameron, Sasha could feel her stomach knot in guilt, “you met general Yunan right? You’ve seen what kind of justice system we’re working with here.”

Cameron’s face hardened as he remembered the threats the newt general had made towards his sister, “so down with the king huh? Alright, I can understand that. And who takes charge afterwards?”

Grime and Sasha shared a glance, the captain cleared his throat, “well… uh, you see the toad representatives from the four towers met last week and voted for…uh…”

“They voted for us!” Sasha blurted out.

The silence that followed was deafening, Cameron glared directly at Grime, “you want my little sister to run a country along side you?” He started reaching for his sword hilt, “did I, or did I not tell you what I would do if I found out you were roping her into more schemes?”

Grime held out his hands to forestall violence, “You may not like it, but this is the truth of the matter. Sasha was the one to help me unite the Toad clans by finding Barrel’s Warhammer. The toads chose both of us to lead them.”

Cameron looked between Sasha and Grime lips curled in frustration as he weighed his options. Pursing his lips he relaxed his sword arm. He studied the hammer Grime had propped against the wall with scorn in his eyes, “So this thing is some sort of staff of office? I can’t say I’m thrilled to support a regime that uses king Arthur logic to choose its leaders.”

Grime nodded, “it was once wielded by the greatest hero in toad history, Barrel. He or she who wields the hammer commands the respect of all toadkind.” He bowed slightly and gestured to it, “I would like to see how well you carry it, sir.” Still scowling, Cameron walked over to the hammer, with a grunt of effort he lifted it from the ground with one hand swinging it slightly to test the weight. Grime ginned, “Can you feel the power in there Waybright? That is the power of destiny, the power to become something people will remember forever. Isn’t that all anyone ever really wants?”

Beads of sweat formed on Cameron’s brow as he recognized the truth in Grimes's words, “I don’t know…”

When Sasha saw the uncertainty in her brother’s eyes all of her doubts fell away, banished by a very familiar sense of opportunity she hadn’t felt since she first arrived in Amphibia. Cracks in Cameron’s armour were few and far between but after thirteen years exploiting them was second nature to Sasha. She fell back into a routine she’d been doing since the two of them were in primary school. She kicked her feet up on the table, “Forget it Grime, Cameron doesn’t care about this world. He couldn’t care less if toads, frogs and newts struggle under a tyrannical and brutish regime. He can’t help it if he’d doesn’t want to…” she saw Cameron’s lips begin to curl and she rolled the last few words off her tongue with glee, “…put the effort in to fix it.”

There was a cold light behind Cameron’s eyes as he batted her feet off the table with the hammer. The two sibling’s eyes locked, “you know what the funny thing is Sash?”

Sasha flashed him her puppy-dog eyes once more, “what’s that Cam?”

Cameron remained stone-faced, “I know you’re playing me.” A slow grin crept up the side of his lips, “but you’re right.” He turned to Grime, “but I’m laying some ground rules,” he tossed the hammer back to Grime who doubled over catching it, “you’re going change your plan to what you just told me it was, not whatever lazily selfish scheme you were planning on conning me into.”

Sasha examined her nails, “whatever could you mean Cam?”

“Can it Sash, I’m only going along with this because Newtopia is doing far worse things than you and Grime ever did.” Cameron growled, “Also, you’re forbidden from fighting Anne or Marcy in any way, shape, or form. Understood?”

Sasha rolled her eyes, “Well duh. I was going to send them home as soon as we took over, I don’t want those sissies ruining my fun here. Once they’ve calmed down, we can go back to being friends like we were before that frog runt stole Anne from me.”

Cameron’s lip curled, “you know Sash? I really thought you turned over a new leaf last night.”

Sasha shrugged, “and I thought you‘d grown tougher, but I guess some things never really change.”

Disgusted Cameron turned to Grime, “So where’s your army now Grime?”

The captain pulled out a map of the continent and pointed to a tower to the far north, “they’re meeting here, set to move out when I send a message to them.”

Cameron rolled up the map and pocketed it, “then you best tell me what the message is, because I’m going to deliver it.”

Cameron looked down in concern at Joe Sparrow, “Hey Marcy, is Joe going to be okay? He looks a little… exhausted…”

“One, it’s Joe Sparrow, use his proper name, and two… uh… probably? He’s never carried this many people before.” Marcy gave the massive sparrow a pat on his head, “Dig deep buddy, I won’t have you carry this much ever again I promise.”

Joe Sparrow had been showing signs of strain since they’d left Wartwood. Though he’d been able to carry Marcy, Anne, Sasha, Grime, Hop Pop, Sprig, and Polly without too much trouble the added bulk of Cameron and Frobo was proving a bit too much to handle and he was slowly drifting closer and closer to the ground. Cameron did some quick mental math.

Actually, this is perfect.

“Hey Marcy set us down, I’ll walk from here.”

Marcy turned her head, “are you sure? It’s like a two-hour walk from here to Newtopia. We could just let Joe Sparrow take a quick breather…”

“Don’t worry I’ll be fine. Honestly, it’s for the best, unlike Sash and Grime I’m too tall to sneak into Newtopia without being recognized by my height alone.” That was true, he’d been thinking about this for a while, “and if Yunan spots me we’re in for all sorts of trouble so just ask the king to pardon me first and then I’ll join you. I’ll be waiting nearby.”

As he slid off Joe Sparrow Cameron heard him give an audible groan of relief. He patted the sparrow’s side, “Don’t worry pal, that’s the last time you’ll need to give me a lift.” Stepping back gave a short wave to the others, “See you all in Newtopia!” His eyes locked with Sasha, and wordlessly he made a gesture with his index and middle finger.

I’ve got my eyes on you.

Sasha rolled her eyes in response.

With a grunt of exertion Joe sparrow launched off the ground and into the air. Cameron watched as the he disappeared over the trees. Satisfied he was alone Cameron pulled out the map and a compass from his belt, “hmm okay… if I burn a power pack, I’ll be there in twenty… no thirty minutes, that’s a lake there, I’ll need to go around.” Reaching down to his chest Cameron opened up the power core cavity and began adjusting settings.

A few minutes later Cameron was galloping through the forest, each step boosted by his exoskeleton. There was something relaxing about the familiarity of this situation, alone and blitzing across unfamiliar country. He was a little shocked to realize how much he’d missed it, the wind blowing in his hair and beard, the scent of the woods all around him, it was a little intoxicating.

By mid afternoon Cameron was at his target location. It was a cliff that overlooked the watery depression that Newtopia sat in. From this vantage point, even though he was still a couple of kilometres away from the city, Cameron could survey every avenue of approach to the city landside. No one could go and go from Newtopia without him sighting them. He was impressed, Grime had chosen his staging ground well. Turning he surveyed the lands away from the city of which he had just as good a vantage point. Sure, enough a column of dust rising from the east marked the approaching toad forces.

He sat and waited, watching as the collum drew near. He glanced lazily to the side as the rustling of foliage caught his ears, “You’re not a stealthy lot, are you?”

The two toad scouts who had been creeping up on him stood up spearpoints raised, “identify yourself!”

“Who, me?” Cameron stood up and dusted himself off, “oh nobody too special,” He flashed them a toothy grin, “just your new boss.”

Chapter Text

The late fall sun glared down upon Cameron Waybright as he watched the toad leaders pour over the note Grime had written for him. Of the handful of virtues that could be ascribed to the young man, patience could not be counted as part of their number. He drummed his fingers against his temple as he leaned forward on the stump he’d taken as a seat, chin resting in his palm. He was nervous, and fidgeting, though not because of the army of grizzled toad warriors surrounding him.

Cameron glanced skyward for a split second, noting the sun’s position and then averting his eyes before it scorched his retinas. Almost noon, plenty of time for Sash and Grime’s scheme. Assuming nothing went wrong…

Out of the corner of his eye, he sighted a familiar face glaring at him from the assembly. As a river flowing into a new course his anxiety and frustration morphed into a cocky grin and a mischievous glint in his eye, “Hey Bufo, how’s the jaw?” He chuckled as the toad captain snorted in anger and turned his attention back to the note, “Bad as that huh?”

Captain Beatrix examined the note one more time, “So you mean to tell me that Grimothy sent you, a complete stranger, to take command of our operation?” She crushed the note in her fist, “What kind of a fool do you take me for?”

“Not a complete stranger.” Cameron crossed his arms and winked at Bufo, “I’ve met some of you before. Besides, you’re all well acquainted with my little sister, aren’t you? So, as long as you want to involve Sash in this coup of yours, I’m running the show.” He blinked, finally registering what Beatrix had just said, “Sorry… wait, did you just say Grimothy?”

Beatrix took a step forward, hands on her axes, “Tell you what, I’ve been looking all over for someone to fill a very special position.” Bufo grinned as he tightened his grip on the great club resting on his shoulder. Beatrix continued, “We’re in dire need of a runner, someone to run messages between officers and I think your lankly legs just might fit the bill.”

Cameron eyed her nonplussed, then he sighed, “alright, fine, I’ll bust out the trump card.” Reaching down into his belt he pulled out his phone, opened it to a photo and threw it to Beatrix, “catch.”

A moment of silence followed as the toads looked down at the photo. Bufo snarled and spat to the side, “damn it all.”

Beatrix handed the phone back to a very smug looking Cameron, “fine, you’re in charge.”

Cameron looked down at the photo of himself posing with Barrel's Warhammer. He grinned and stowed the phone, “Well, now that we understand one another, let’s get to work.”

Bufo grumbled, “Yeah alright.”

“I’m sorry captain, did you say something?” Cameron’s smug grin faded as he fixed the toad with a cold stare.

Bufo glanced over to Beatrix who shrugged half-heartedly in defeat. He coughed, “Erm… no sir… do you have any… eh… orders for me?”

Cameron stood, walking over to the cliff’s edge he shielded his eye with his hand as he gazed over toward Newtopia. Waiting just long enough for the toads to start shuffling their feet awkwardly Cameron spoke, “I want scouts sent out to three lookout points.” he extended his arm and indicated three clifftops which fell facing the city. Turning, he swept his hand across the line of hills that lay between them and Newtopia, “Have the rest of the army hunker down behind these hills, but no fires or camps. If the newts spot a big ass army on their doorstep, they’ll know something’s up.” He looked over at Beatrix, “Is it true you don’t have any runners to carry orders between units?”

She shook her head, “none of us are exactly sprinters.”

Cameron stroked his chin for a moment then snapped his fingers, “Flags. Do any of your troops know flag signals?”

Bufo nodded once, “some.”

“Then make sure each scout team has someone with them who knows their flags.” Cameron pointed to the gate of Newtopia, “at some point this afternoon Sasha and Grime and their toads are going to open up that front gate for us. The instant we sight one of them working the gate controls we need to book it across the water as fast as possible. Do you have any junior officers?”

Bufo raised an eyebrow, “junior officers?”

“Lieutenants... seconds in command... Anything?”

The two shook their heads, “not really a thing, Grimothy’s the only one of us who bothered taking on a lieutenant.”

Cameron blew out a sigh, “That changes now, I want you to form your toads into two squads per tower. Choose a toad to take command of each squad. I want you to pick experienced warriors who know how to follow orders and are respected by their fellow soldiers. Once you’ve done that assemble them all here for a briefing.”

The two captain threw up a salute, their previously held animosity fading away in the face of welcomed decisive leadership, “aye sir.”

“Commander.”

“Beg-pardon?”

Cameron could feel his heart pound a little harder in his chest as his excitement grew, anxiety over their perilous situation completely evaporated in the face of his swelling ego, “That’s what I want to be called: commander.”

Cameron watched the distant spires of Newtopia from beneath hooded eyes. Behind him the toad army did its best to remain undetected by newt scouts. Crude shelters of grass and local foliage were erected to blend into the natural landscape serving more as camouflage from Newtopian scouts rather than any sort of protection from the elements.

Not that they needed it, after all, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, nor did the enemy seem particularly competent.

He watched sullenly as two toads dragged a captured newt scout toward a holding pen. He hoped the poor thing had always been of a black and blue complexion, rather than a result of whatever beating they had sustained at the hands of the toads. He decided not to dwell on the subject.

Even if they blundered into ambushes, practically begging to be caught, it was risky business capturing scouts, but if all went as planned the gates to Newtopia would be open before they were missed.

Cameron’s musings were interrupted as a figure strode up to him, dropping to one knee, “the scouts are in position commander, and the officers are ready for your briefing.”

Cameron felt pride and smugness well up within himself to a near revolting degree when the toad addressed him as commander, doubly so given their history. He stood up, “excellent work Captain Bufo, let’s not keep them waiting.” He tossed his spy glass to a toad sentry, “you, keep an eye out for flag signals from the scouts. Alert me immediately if you see anything.”

Cameron rolled a map of Newtopia out on the ground as Bufo, Beatrix, and the newly appointed officers of the toad army gathered around, “alright ladies and gents. Pay attention, those gates could open at any second, so you get all this memorized quick.” He pointed to six buildings on the map, “There are four armoires in the city, we’ll need full control of them, the prison, and the palace to exercise full control over the city. Even if most of the guards surrender when Sasha and Grime seize the king, all it takes is one bold newt to start passing out weapons and we’ll be locked into fighting an insurgent force on home turf.” He held out his hand, “squad leaders, give me your daggers. Having collected all six he began stabbing them into points on the map, “First and second of East Tower, you’ll take these two armoires. Bufo, take a small contingent and hold the avenue connecting them, we want to catch anyone trying to move weapons around. First and second of west tower you’ll take the other two. Beatrix, I want you to put some toads out on the main square, make sure the citizens know who’s in charge of the city now but don’t be too rough or they’ll mob you. North tower squads, you’ll be following me. Second squad will take the prison and secure the guards Grime and Sasha’s forces have captured. First squad, we’ll take the palace and secure the king.”

His eye narrowed, “there’s going to be a temptation to start looting the city, we need to resist it. Remember, the newts outnumber us significantly, if they see weakness they’ll pounce. Save the celebrations until all the weapons are confiscated and the newt leadership is imprisoned.” He stepped back and eyed the officers, “everyone clear on their role?”

There was an ascent of ayes and yes sirs. Cameron nodded, “Excellent, then report to your squads. I’m trusting all of you to keep your toads in line. This is a high-risk, high-reward operation that Grime and Sasha have concocted, and it’ll be up to us to make sure it doesn’t fall flat on its face. Dismissed.”

As the officers departed to prepare their squads Cameron turned to Bufo and Beatrix, “good choices the both of you. The squad leaders look like they can handle themselves. I’m confident they’ll keep their toads in line when this all kicks off, but now we need to talk about Grime’s boys and girls.”

Beatrix grimaced, “They’re a spirited lot and they’ve hit hard times after the South Tower fell.”

Cameron pointed at her and nodded, “Exactly. I’m worried they’ll let victory go to their heads. If there’s a weak link in this plan it’s the toads on the inside. If they let their guard down, and the newts close the gate, this whole operation is shot to hell. So, we need to give them as little time as possible to fuck this up for us.” Cameron rolled the map up, “Grime may not like it but once we’re inside I want you to add his toads to your detachments. Keep them in line and don’t be afraid to crack heads. If our troops see them goofing off and enjoying the spoils, it’ll be a lot harder to keep everyone in line.”

“Commander!” Cameron turned as the toad he’d handed his spyglass over to ran up, “Commander, the scouts have seen movement! Captain Grime has the king!”

Cameron turned to Bufo and Beatrix, “So much for dress rehearsal… it’s show time.”

The gates had opened, and the orders had been sent forth. Striding out in front of the army Cameron watched the ramparts intently, searching for any sign of the South Tower warriors or his sister atop the pearly white walls. He had spotted toads milling about as they opened the gates not too long ago, but now they were deserted.

Then he spotted movement, two figures bouncing around atop the gate house. Cameron’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the hair of both girls. Turning sharply, he bellowed at the toads behind him, “Give me a spy glass, now!” a telescope was quickly passed up the ranks where Cameron snatched it with furious energy, placing the sight to his eye he cursed aloud. Tossing the spy glass back he broke into a sprint, “to the gate! Double time!”

Anne and Sasha were duelling atop the gatehouse.

The gates were shut, there was no way in. Cameron kicked the shallow water he was standing in viscously, “Damn it! How did they screw up this badly?”

Beatrix scoffed, “So what’s the plan now oh great commander?” Decorum had been the first thing to dissipate following the plan’s failure. There were murmurs among the troops of abandoning the rebellion all together and Cameron could feel his authority over the army slipping.

He turned and glared at Beatrix, anger burning in his eyes, “If it were up to me, we’d have laid siege to Newtopia from the beginning. Starved the city out and forced the king to surrender. We’d have achieved our goals without a drop of blood spilt, but now, they have my sister and your brother as hostages.” He turned back to the map of Newtopia sprawled out on the table. He gritted his teeth, “we have an hour, tops before the guards reorganize. If we can’t come up with a way to reverse our fortunes, we and our siblings are as good as dead.”

Bufo shrugged, “I don’t see how this is my problem, at this point I’ve got no skin in the game. I’m heading back to east tower, let me know how General Yunan’s blades taste.”

Before he could turn Cameron grabbed him by the shoulder, “You thick-headed son of a bitch, did I knock some brains loose when I decked you? What do you think is going to happen to the toad towers after this if Newtopia wins? That you’ll just kiss and make up?” Bufo was silent, but Cameron continued, bellowing directly into his face, “You thought things were bad for toads before but after this, you’ll be lucky if General Yunan doesn’t hunt every last one of you down to extinction after this rebellion. You leave now and the brightest future you’ll be looking forward to, Bufo, will be the sun beating down on you in a penal camp!”

The toad took a step back reflexively but remained stone-faced, “Don’t act like you know us, human.”

Cameron’s face was flushed with rage. How dare this toad abandon him, how dare he abandon Sash? He should kill him, rip his backstabbing head from his shoulders and… and…

No… calm down, you’re the one losing his head here.

The room fell silent as Cameron furiously wracked his brain for a solution, for a way out of the mess he’d let happen.

How stupid are you? How could out let Sash get herself into a mess like this? What if the king executes her? What then? How are you going to explain that to Mom and Dad? How are you going to live with it?

He growled under his breath and pounded his balled fists into his forehead, “Shut up! Shut up!”

Beatrix approached him gingerly, “Are… are you alright?”

Cameron snapped around to face her, “Where’s the best spot to climb the walls?”

The toad tapped a point on the map, “here, it’s much the same as the rest of wall but there’s a merchant district just inside. If you can scale the wall before patrols resume you can quickly find cover in the streets.”

Cameron nodded in approval, “Have some foliage and tarps ready here,” he indicated a small thicket that was outside the wall closest to the prison. “we’ll use this as our exfiltration point. I’ll retrieve Sasha and Grime and then we’ll jump from this window. If all goes well, we’ll be back to square one without any losses.”

Cameron felt the rope burning his hand slightly as he climbed. The grapnel hook would have been much easier but at this point, he couldn’t risk the noise alerting guards. He’d done rope climbing before in gym class, but the real thing was something else. Reaching the ledge, he quickly pulled himself over and dragged the trailing rope with him as he dropped into the streets of the city below.

Taking shelter in an alley he watched as newt guards, robed and armed in the fashion of the Newtopian Guard patrolled past, some ushering citizens, others escorting toads who had been clapped in irons. He groaned, the odds that Grime and Sash’s forces had been carrying on the fight had been slim, but he had held out hope to find allies this side of the walls. Seemed things were indeed as bad as they could be. He needed to find his sister, quickly.

Had it not been such dire circumstances Cameron might have stopped and marveled at the city of Newtopia, with its fine marble statues and gardens. Now was not the time for sightseeing however, he needed to keep his head in the game. Racing though the streets, ducking newt patrols and city residents he finally laid eyes upon the prison complex, rising out of the side of the pyramid like structure of Newtopia.

A row of hedges provided him cover as his made his approach, and he kept his green cloak wrapped tight about his frame, careful to not let any shiny surface of his armour show and betray his presence with a glint of reflected light. A single guard stood watch at the gate, without pause Cameron sprung on him, two swift blows knocking the newt senseless.

He grabbed the key ring from the unconscious body and bundled the guard’s unconscious form behind the hedge, hiding him from view. It was a bandaid solution. Doubtless, any guard passing by would note the missing newt but at the very least it would delay pursuit by a minute or two, and under the circumstances that would have to do.

The prison was dank and quiet, the air musky and stale without a breeze to clear it out. Cameron passed cell block after cell block, all mostly empty apart from the odd inmate.

Where the fuck are they?

Sighting another guard Cameron crept up and grabbed her from behind, igniting his sword and holding it to her throat. He hissed into her ear, his voice a low growl, “Where are the human Sasha Waybright and Toad Captain Grime being held?”

The guard splutter, quivering with fear as she starred into the blazing yellow blade held just under her chin, “th-the king wanted them delivered to his throne room first, they’re p-probably there right now.”

Cameron’s stomach sank, infiltrating the palace would be no easy feat. Foolish even.

Doesn’t matter. Sash is in danger.

Dragging the guard over to a nearby cell Cameron unlocked it and threw the guard in, “I’m sure somebody will be by to let you out soon.” He paused and gave her an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry about this, but if you keep quiet then less people will get hurt.” Not waiting for a reply Cameron sped off, searching for an exit.

As he exited the prison through a side entrance and walked out onto the street Cameron felt a the ground beneath his feet rumbled and quake, disturbed by some great force.

An earthquake?

Anything was possible but no one had even mentioned them once since had arrived. Looking around Cameron’s jaw dropped as he saw massive thrusters extend from the side of the Newtopian royal palace.

What the hell is happening?

With a thunderous roar the palace rose into the sky. Cameron stared in disbelief, mouth agape. Slapping himself across the face gritted his teeth.

Think man, think!

As his eyes scoured his surroundings he spied a familiar sight: a giant sparrow with a seat on its back. He grinned and shook his head in disbelief, “that works.”

Cameron sprinted across the shaking square towards the sparrow, “Joe Sparrow! Over here boy!”

The sparrow looked up from the grain sack he had been feeding from, totally nonplussed by the events transpiring around him. Sighting Cameron, he quickly turned his head away, pretending he had not heard or seen him.

Reaching the bird’s side Cameron held out his hands, unsure of the proper etiquette for approaching the bird. When he did not react to his hand Cameron drew closer and grabbed the reins, “listen buddy, Marcy and everyone else just rocketed into the sky, I could really use your help right about now.”

Joe Sparrow let out a small groan.

“I know, I’m sure you’re exhausted and I’m really sorry, but I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if it wasn’t important.” clambering onto Joe’s seat Cameron paused, then gave the rein a slight tug, “uh… up, up and away Joe, yip yip!”

With a reluctant Joe began a hoping jump and raced towards the nearest ledge. Just as they launched into the air Cameron closed his eyes, “Come on buddy… dig deep.” They plummeted a few metres but with a furious flailing of wings they stabilized, Cameron could tell he was almost too much for the sparrow in its exhausted state. He patted the bird’s side, “Listen buddy just this one effort and I promise you’ll never need to taxi me anywhere again.” He drew his sword and pointed up at the receding palace, “It’s up to us to save the day Joe Sparrow, let’s give it all we got!”

With a defiant screech, Joe began to steadily rise, picking up speed as he did. As they flew higher Cameron cast his eyes towards the fields surrounding Newtopia and instantly wished he hadn’t. Outside the city, he could see small black shapes swarming around the massed toad formations, along with brief flashes of light that could only be by weapons fire. It seemed the castle wasn’t the only thing airborne. He turned his attention back to said castle, teeth grinding together as it drew closer and closer.

Halfway up they were blown back as the place’s spire unleashed a powerful blast that detonated North Toad Tower on the distant horizon, vaporizing the structure in a flash of blue light. Cameron dug his fingers into Joe’s feathers, this was quickly becoming a nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, he kept his voice steady as he spoke aloud, as much to himself as to his sparrow steed, “Come on buddy, we have to stop this.” They soared higher and higher, then Cameron spotted a commotion at one of the windows, he squinted “Is that… Sprig? Is that Sprig getting closer- Woah!” He barely had time to collect himself before the young frog landed squarely on his face, almost bouncing off. Cameron was just able to grab his leg while also gripping onto Joe’s harness for dear life.

With a heave Cameron brought Sprig across into the saddle, “I got you! I got you! Sprig, what on Earth is going on up there?”

The young frog was shaking, clearly traumatized by his near-death experience, “th-the k-king. H-he- took the box. T-threw m-me o-out the w-window.” Cameron grimaced and wrapped Sprig under his arm, “If I ever say things could be worse, kick me…”

Joe was faltering, for the exhausted sparrow the addition of another creature on top of the weight added by Cameron’s armour was becoming too much for his strained muscles to bear. Cameron looked down at Sprig, “Hey buddy, Joe’s not going to make it up there, I’m gonna need to toss you.”

Sprig was hyperventilating, completely lost to the world around him, Cameron shook him frantically, voice cracking in panic as he felt Joe’s speed drop rapidly, “Sprig! Please! Snap out of it! I got you, you’re okay! But our friends and family aren’t going to be unless you and I get up there.”

Sprig breathed in deeply, though still shaking he threw up a double thumbs up and gave a false grin to Cameron, “don’t worry, I got this.”

Cameron smiled sadly, “of course you do.” With a heave Cameron launched Sprig towards the nearby window, the young frog sailed through the air, sticky feet extended. He landed just to the left, sticking to the marble wall like gum. Turning he gave a shaky thumbs up sign to Cameron who returned the gesture, then he leapt inside.

With his load lessened Joe began to close with the castle once more. Standing up Cameron braced his arm as he aimed the grappling hook, “wish me luck Joe.” With a grunt of exertion Cameron launched the rope, the hook caught on a windowsill and stuck fast. With a leap Cameron jumped onto the rope and began climbing, desperately trying not to look down.

Finally reaching the windowsill Cameron was greeted with a horror scene. Andrias, King of Amphibia and a mountain of a newt, was standing behind Marcy Wu, sword pulled back for a thrusting motion. His breath ragged from climbing Cameron couldn’t even so much as shout as he watched the massive monarch impale Marcy clean through, the glowing point of his blade protruding out the other side of her chest. Frobo, the Plantar’s friendly frog robot, lay smashed to pieces nearby, his head missing. Anne, Hop Pop, Sprig and Polly were halfway through a portal, looking into Marcy’s face with horror. Sasha and Grime lay further back, battered, and bruised from fighting. Dozens of other frobots, all clearly hostile, surrounded the room.

Cameron remained frozen in the window, terror and grief rooting him in place as he watched Marcy fall limply to the floor of the throne room. With a metallic thud, the calamity box tumbled out of her hand. There was a flash of light. Anne and the Plantars were gone. Marcy lay motionless on the floor.

No. No! No!

He shivered, snapping out of his stupor.

Save Sash. That’s all that matters.

Rolling onto the floor of the palace, Cameron rushed over to Sasha, shoving Grime aside as he knelt over his little sister. Sasha was sitting with her back against the throne room wall, blood leaking from a dozen minor scrapes and bruises. She looked groggily up at Cameron, the remnants of tears visible around her eyes, “Cam? Where’d you come from?”

Cameron tried to squash the panic rising in his chest, focusing on his sister. He flashed her a cocky grin, hiding his fear behind a brave face, “You thought I’d let you get away from me that easily?”

Sasha sucked in a shaky breath, her voice trembling and more tears welling up in her eyes, “Cam… I… Marcy… Marcy’s-”

Cameron put a finger to her lips, “Hush, it’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. Your big brother’s here, right? He’s not going to let anything bad happen. Okay?” Sasha nodded weakly but didn’t rise. Reaching down, Cameron ruffled his hand through her blonde hair, just like he might have when she'd scrapped her knee as a little girl. “you’re going to be okay.” Cameron turned to Grime. The toad captain seemed shaken and likewise covered in wounds as Sasha. He locked eyes with the toad, “We need to get her out of here.”

Grime shook his head, “where? The army?”

Cameron reached down and lifted Sasha into his arms, “no good, it’s already gone. Head for Wartwood, there’s at least some friendly faces there.”

“Not to us I think.”

Glaring over his shoulder Cameron’s voice became hard and bitter, “I don’t care what you have to do but figure something out. Tell them Anne herself sent you, lie, cheat, I don’t care. You’ll be safer in Wartwood than anywhere else at the moment.”

Hearing the tone in Cameron’s voice Grime reached out and grabbed his cloak, “this doesn’t have to go the way I think it is; we have options, I could leave the hammer or stay myself.”

“There are frobots in the air, you’ll need speed to get away. You’re smaller than me, and I think you’ll be needing that hammer in the days to come.” Cameron clambered up onto the windowsill and slid Sasha onto the back of the waiting Joe Sparrow. Turning back to Grime, he offered his hand out to help the toad captain up, “I’ve said a lot of things about you captain, but you kept her safe when I couldn’t. I-” he swallowed, the stoic expression on his face cracking for a moment, “I’m going to need you to keep up the good work.”

Grime reached out and clasped Cameron’s hand, gripping it tightly as he stared into the young man’s blue eyes, “you can rely on me. I swear upon my life.”

Cameron nodded, “thank you.”

Sasha who had only been half listening lifted her head up, “wait, Joe can’t carry all of us!”

“I know.” Cameron helped Grime up onto the sparrow’s back, “No matter what, don’t turn back.” The toad captain nodded grimly.

Sasha frantically tried to rise but Cameron pushed her back down, holding her against the seat on Joe Sparrow’s harness. Tears sprung from the young girl’s eyes, “No! Wait, Cam, no! I can’t lose you too!”

Better me than you.

Leaning down, Cameron pressed his lips against the blonde top of Sasha’s head. He stepped back, smiling at her, “You’ve got to be strong, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“I can’t- please Cam don’t do this.” She tried to rise again, reaching out to grab his arm.

Cameron pushed her back down with a gentle, but firm, hand. He smiled back at his little sister with false humor, his own blonde hair fluttering in the breeze as the high altitude winds pulled at him. There was a slight glistening to his eyes, but his voice was steady and strong. Their eyes met, one last time, “catch you later Sash.”

"No!"

With a slap, Cameron sent Joe Sparrow off into the air and Sasha’s desperate cries were swallowed up by the wind as her brother faded from view.

Cameron turned back to the face throne. The portal had closed. Anne had made it back to Earth. He strode into the middle of the room, unfastening the cloak that he wore about his neck and tossing it to the side in one fluid motion. Most of the frobots had left to chase after Joe Sparrow, leaving only two to guard Andrias. He thumbed the ignition switch on his sword, causing the pale yellow blade to spring forth with a hiss. His heart was pounding in his chest, feeling as though it might burst through his ribcage altogether.

Come on Cameron, this is the grand finale, let’s make this count.

His knuckles turned white as his grip on the hilt tightened. The panic was fading, replaced by anger. He bared his teeth and rolled his shoulders, shaking off the stress.

We were so close. So damn close to going home.

“Good. Get her to a rejuvenation tank. And make it snappy, she’s fading fast…”

Instantly Cameron was alert, snapped out of his rage by the king’s words.

Well fuck. Maybe we can recover from this.

As Olivia and Yunan picked up Marcy from the floor Cameron’s voice rang out through the throne room causing everyone to freeze, “alright, fun’s over. Hand over Marcy and I won’t have to gut each and every one of you.”

King Andrias Leviathan turned, his massive frame eclipsing the final rays of sunlight from the windows behind him, “You must be the other Waybright sibling. I’ve heard quite a bit about you…”

Cameron’s eyes narrowed, “and you must be King Andrias. I gotta say, the royal portraits do not do you justice. You’re way uglier in person.”

The corner of Andrias’ mouth curled in amusement, “My, what’s that you’ve found? You managed to find a laser sword? You’ve done some digging Waybright, these haven’t been made since the days of the old empire.” He brought up his own sword, twice as long and broad as Cameron’s relatively meagre blade, “but I think this is metaphor enough for your chances right about now.”

Cameron didn’t rise to the bait, instead, he pointed his sword in a straight line towards the gargantuan newt’s throat, “You talk a big game a guy who just got his ass handed to him by three teenage girls.”

Andrias chuckled, “One, teenage girl. And from the sounds of it, you missed the context of that ‘ass beating’ as you so elegantly put it.” Turning his back Andrias nodded to Yunan, “Anyways, I don’t have time for whatever… this is… general, take care of this one, would you?”

A grin came across General Yunan's face, her unease set aside at the prospect of revenge, “gladly your majesty.” Stepping forward the young newt struck a pose, “Cameron Waybright we meet again, and for the last time. Prepare to meet you end at the blades of General Yunan: Scourge of the Sand Wars- uummp!”

Yunan’s eyes went wide as the grappling launcher’s claws wrapped around her face. She didn’t have much time to act beyond that, however, as with a lurch she was flung across the room, straight into Cameron’s awaiting armoured fist.

Crack

As the general crumpled into an unconscious pile at his feet Cameron ejected the now shattered launcher from his gauntlet. He shrugged nonchalantly at Andrias, “I feel kinda bad, but it’s really, really, easy to catch her off guard like that.”

He pointed his sword at Andrias again, “You wanna take a crack now, ugly? I would say I’m about to beat you black and blue but seems you’re already halfway there.”

Reigniting his sword Andrias stepped forward, “I think it’s only fair to warn you, cheap tricks like that won’t work on me, Waybright.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Cameron saw Lady Olivia slowly dragging Marcy away and at the same time, he could feel anxiety creeping into the back of his mind.

This is taking up time Marcy doesn’t have. I got lucky with Yunan but what if fighting Andrias takes too long? That’s assuming I can take him… What about Sash? What if the frobots shoot down Joe…

He shook himself.

No. Focus on what you can do. First I kill this bastard. Then I get Marcy to the tank. I grab the music box. We meet up with Sash at Wartwood and then we all go home to Earth as big goddamn heroes.

Raising his head Cameron shrugged, matching Andrias’ relaxed stance, “No cheap tricks huh? Makes sense, you do seem to be the master when it comes to those. Speaking of, should I fight you left-handed to make it sporting? I know you do your best work backstabbing and all so I figured you might be a little intimidated fighting someone face to face.” He grinned devilishly, “Of course, I’m also not a defenceless adolescent girl you strung along for six months, so I’m sure they complicate things for you even more.”

The corner of Andrias’ mouth twitched and he squeezed the hilt of his sword tight, causing a squeak of metal scrapping on metal to ring out about the throne room. His eyes had hardened, no longer amused by Cameron’s antics, “I think I’m going to kill you now.”

Cameron Waybright flashed a cocky grin, “be a nice change of pace.”

Andrias snorted, “such arrogance.” Then with a titanic roar, he lunged forward, sword raised for a killing blow.

Chapter Text

Energy arced around Cameron and Andrias as their swords connected, scorching the rock of the throne room around them. One arc struck Cameron’s cheek, burning it quite badly. Had he the opportunity Cameron would have cried out in pain, or at least reached up to assess the damage. At present, however, he had more pressing concerns. He held his blade almost horizontally above his head, having blocked Andrias’ overhead swing their blades were now locked.

The King’s strength was immense, even greater than his size would have suggested. He drove forward, pushing down on his blade. Cameron fell to one knee, his exoskeleton screaming in protest. Dipping his blade to the side he rolled the other way hoping that Andrias’ momentum would buy him a moment of reprieve.

No such luck.

Cameron barely had enough time to bring his own blade up to parry the follow-up swing. Struggling to his feet he blocked another blow aimed at his left flank. He fell back, trying to get some breathing room, some time to formulate a strategy, only for Andrias to close the distance in a heartbeat and force him onto the defensive once more. Parrying a blow Cameron finally saw an opening, disengaging his blade from Andrias’ he lunched forward, blade questing for the King’s chest.

*Thump*

Cameron pulled himself up, shaking himself to stop the world spinning. He was on the other side of the room, back against the wall and feeling like he’d been hit by a car. Across from him, Andrias spun, tucking his tail behind him as he did. He began advancing towards Cameron. As he struggled to his feet once more Cameron’s mind raced.

He’s faster than me. Stronger than me. He’s got more reach and has the height advantage… What do I have?

Andrias smirked a little, slowing to a trot, “I see reality is finally setting in Waybright. Now do me a favor and give up now, a king has a very busy schedule.”

Gotcha.

Cameron wiped away the blood that was trickling out of his nose, he grinned, “funny… I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

The King’s lip curled, “Maybe I hit you a little too hard…” he raised his blade, “No matter, one more knock ought to set you straight. Or you kill you, doesn’t matter to me.”

Cameron brought his sword up, deflecting the blow, and leapt to the side, back out into the middle of the throne room. As Andrias turned to follow Cameron darted forward. The feint worked, Andrias swung his tail once more. This time Cameron was ready, turning into the blow he wrapped his arms around the tail and stabbed his sword into it. Andrias howled, partly in pain, partly in rage.

Sword still buried up to the hilt into the tail Cameron hung on for dear life as it whipped around, slamming into the ground and the walls of the throne room. He knew he couldn’t stay here for long. Andrias probably wouldn’t cut off his own tail to kill Cameron but at any moment he could just reach down and grab him. Looking to add insult to injury before he detached Cameron barred his teeth and tried to bite into the king’s tail. Almost instantly he regretted it. It felt like he'd just bitten down hard on a sheet of hard plastic. The king’s skin wasn’t solid, but it was incredibly resilient and hardened to his touch. Extinguishing his sword and messaging his, now aching, teeth with his tongue Cameron let go, rolling away.

Standing up he had just enough time to reignite his sword before Andrias was upon him. Now wielding his blade with two hands, the king put all of his might into thrust aimed directly at the center of Cameron’s chest. The blades connected. Lightning arced. Andrias’ blade didn’t slow, continuing towards Cameron’s chest. Cameron didn’t have time to move, all he could do was push against to blow with all his might to move the point away from his chest. It proved insufficient.

Cameron had only a second to register panic before the blade punched clean through the right side of his chest, just to the right of his left shoulder. Pain exploded through his body. Blindly he swung his sword out, forcing Andrias to pull his blade back to parry. Cameron fell backward, landing on his back as he fought against the pain that was flooding his body. He started to drag himself back, away from Andrias, dragging his still-ignited sword as he did.

Andrias extinguished his blade, “got any more of that bravado left Waybright? Or are you feeling a little deflated?”

Propping himself up Cameron grinned weakly, “Thanks for cauterizing that, wouldn’t want to get an infection out here.” As Andrias drew closer he let out a chuckle that turned into a cough. Spitting a wad of blood to the side he smirked up at the king who now loomed over him, “nifty skin trick you’ve got there. What? Do you have a bunch of frog nanites under there? Franites? No, frobites.”

“Amusing, but not entertaining enough I’m afraid.” Andrias raised his sword, “I’ll tell your sister you died bravely. That is if I bother to speak to her before I kill her too.”

“Aw come on. Dead men tell no tales and all that, at least tell me what’s going on. I missed all the context. Why’d you stab Marcy? From what she told me you two were good pals.”

Andrias paused for a moment, “we were… but duty demands sacrifice and-” the wistful look that has crossed his face vanished, “No. Why am I telling this? Enough!” His blade fell, but not because he swung his arm.

“Woah, guess you’re heavier than I thought. Lucky me.”

“What-” Before Andrias could reply there was a crack and he sunk down another meter.

Cameron grunted with exertion as he pulled his sword, embedded up to the hilt into the floor in an arc. As the floor started falling away, he pulled it out and scrambled back, “Now, if judged this correctly, you’re standing right above the main hall and the only thing left between you and it is two feet of un-melted stone.” Andrias dove forward grasping for solid ground, but Cameron viciously kicked him in the face causing him to slip back, “now if a really fat bastard and a ton or so of rock fell down there, I reckon it would break through to the level beneath that.” Pulling himself to his feet Cameron grinned triumphantly, “And I admit I’m guestimating here, but that only leaves one or two levels until you reach the ground floor. Which I’m pretty sure is a few thousand meters lower still.”

Andrias plunged his sword into the crumbling rock desperately trying to find purchase, “If I get out of this, I’ll make sure your death isn’t a fast one!”

Pulling his arm back Cameron flung his sword, it sped like a blazing yellow arrow and pieced the king’s hand, causing him to release his own. With a bellow Andrias Leviathan fell, disappearing into the hole and becoming obscured by dust. Leaning over the edge Cameron spat into it, “And for the record, I’d have kicked your ass if I hadn’t been running across the entire city all day!”

The two frobots rushed forward, pointing their weapons at Cameron unsure of what to do. Cameron gestured down the hole, “Sounds like your boss needs help to me. What kind of prioritization scheme do you fellas use?”

“I-” Before the frobot could finish its sentence Cameron had grabbed it. Twisting its arm cannon he ducked behind it, struggling to keep hold with only one usable arm. The other frobot dutifully opened fire, peppering its comrade with laser fire. Twirling the now limp frobot Cameron hurled it into the other, sending the two crashing to the floor. He winced, cradling his shoulder where Andrias’ blade had burned through. It was difficult to gauge just how bad the wound was as the blade had melted the armour around it, filling the wound and partially bonding the armour to his skin.

That’s not going to be pretty to remove… Marcy!

Setting off at a lope Cameron gritted his teeth as the adrenaline wore off and the pain became harder to ignore.

“Put her down.”

Lady Oliva turned, still holding the unconscious Marcy up as best she could, “you?! But how did-”

Cameron stood in the hallway, bruised, bleeding, but still with a spark of determination in his eyes, “I won’t ask again lady.”

Olivia gulped but held firm, sticking her chin out even as she trembled, “No! Marcy needs medical attention now; I need to get her to a rejuvenation tank, or she won’t make it!”

Cameron stuck his hand out leaning against the wall and coughed, blood tricking out of his mouth, “If that’s true we want the same thing. Tell me where the tank is, I can carry her faster than you.”

“Forgive me for doubting, but you’re not exactly the picture of health right now.”

Cameron slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a crack in the ancient stonework. He glared at Olivia, “I’ll manage. Now, for the last time, where is the tank.”

Olivia pointed down the hall, “you can’t go to the closest one now, they’ll find you right away. Take the third door on the right, go down two levels, turn tight, and then go through the second door on your left. There’s a hidden room in there, just the breathing mask on her and the tank will do the rest.”

With a grunt of pain, Cameron lifted Marcy’s limp form into his arms, wincing as he put strain on his left shoulder, her breathing was ragged and there were flecks of blood around her mouth. He looked down at Olivia, “Thank you, but I doubt the king will appreciate you helping me.”

Olivia shrugged, “if asked, it’ll tell them you roughed me up and forced the tank’s location out of me.”

*Thump*

Cameron pulled his hand back gingerly as Olivia collapsed to the ground unconscious, “I’m sorry but you’ll be safer this way. Ah-” he let out a short cry of pain as he secured his hold on Marcy again, “Come on Cameron, you can do this…”

Cradling Marcy’s head so her airway remained clear Cameron sprinted through the gloomy halls of the castle. Night had well and truly fallen now and though the darkness provided him with cover it also made navigation difficult. Exiting the staircase as Lady Olivia had instructed Cameron spied the door. It was different from the others, metallic, and seemingly even older than the stone around it. Cameron remembered this place from studying the map the toads had given him, they were near the keep’s cells. Opening it Cameron entered what looked like a sick bay. Dozens of cots filled the room along with privacy screens and nearly folded spare sheets. Setting Marcy down on a cot Cameron began searching for the hidden room Olivia had described. After a moment he sighed a patch of wall behind a bookshelf that was different.

Heaving the shelf aside Cameron threw open the secret door and paused. A large tank filled with green liquid sat alone in the room connected to dozens of wires that spun off into the darkness of the poorly lit room. Cameron rushed back to Marcy, wheeling the cot into the room he grabbed the breathing mask that hung to the side of the tank. It was connected to a mess of tubes and sensors that Cameron hoped knew a bit about human biology, or at least about mammals.

“If this thing turns you part frog Marcy, I’m happy to call that my bad.” A groan escaped from Marcy and a trickle of blood dripped from her mouth, Cameron swore. Quickly skimming through the tank’s operation, he began pushing buttons. The system was incredibly advanced but well-designed, with a clear user interface. Strapping Marcy to the patient harness Cameron wiped blood from her cheek, “Marcy if you can hear me, I promise, everything’s going to be okay just stay with me.” With the final press of a button, the harness lifted Marcy into the air. The tank opened, spilling its contents across the floor. It brought Marcy inside and then closed again. The glowing green liquid began to fill the tank again.

The machine hummed as it began to scan Marcy’s injuries, Cameron sat back and watched, reading through the display and checking Marcy’s air tube to make sure she was getting air. The device seemed like it could heal pretty much any organic creature and be operated by personnel with only a moderate level of technical ability. Cameron scowled as he began to put two and two together. A sealed section of the sickbay, a flying castle with an army of robots and a doom laser capable of obliterating entire cities. Couple that with the music box, a device that can send someone between worlds, and it didn’t take a genius to realize what this whole situation was about. He looked around the chamber his former fascination turning to disgust, no wonder they were so close to the cells, this was a torture chamber. Designed by some kind of twisted genius, the castle was a mother ship capable of invading planets. From those invaded planets, resistance leaders would be brought to this chamber and tortured over and over again, being healed each time by the tank so the torture could recommence immediately.

With the tank full, and satisfied the breather apparatus was working, Cameron turned to covering their tracks. He returned the cot, swapped the sheets and moved the bookshelf back into place. Sitting in the dark hidden room with only the light of the rejuvenation tank to illuminate his surroundings Cameron crumpled to the floor. His own injuries were extensive and were now, coupled with his exhaustion, catching up with him. Fighting the urge to sleep he began bandaging his wounds. Thankfully most weren’t bleeding too badly, at least the ones he could see. His internal injuries were a little more difficult to judge. In the morning he could probably scavenge the supplies to make one of Maddie’s healing potions but there was no way he could do that now.

Removing his armour, and tearing open the wound on his shoulder in the process Cameron checked for signs of internal bleeding. Scrapes and bruises covered his torso but there wasn’t any bloating, and he didn’t feel nauseous. Still, after the blow he took from Andrias’ tail, he couldn’t be too careful. Lying down on his back Cameron set his legs atop his mangled breastplate, elevating them, it would have to do for now… Out of the corner of his eye, Cameron thought he glimpsed a blazing orange eye staring at him from the dark. He blinked and turned to look but the light was gone.

Hallucination… that’s not a good sign…

Chapter Text

Darkness, it filled her vision. Marcy had never been particularly afraid of the dark, nor much else for better or worse, but this darkness was disorientating. Groggily she tried to reach, searching for some frame of reference but all her hand met was a viscous resistance like she was underwater. She was underwater. Marcy wiggled her feet, she was floating. No, she was suspended, hanging in the water, neither sinking nor floating.

Where am I?
The box… Anne...

Slowly panic began to build within her as her memory returned, she had been impaled. Stabbed through the chest she’d see it, felt it.

Is this it?

Marcy began to writhe as the panic overtook her, failing around blindly for something, anything. Something was attached to her face, she felt a long cold object brush against her leg, it felt serpent-like. There was a muffled hiss and the sound of running water, there was a light above her, and she was getting closer to it. Bubbles escaped from her facemask as she screamed. Then she was lifted, strong arms lifting her, wrapping her in a tight hug. A voice cut through the silence, “Woah I got you, it’s alright, you’re safe.”

Marcy opened her eyes, not realizing they had been closed until that point. She didn’t recognize the room she was in. It was dark, tubes and wires lay on the ground around her, some attached to her skin with suction cups.

The voiced called to her again, “hold still for a moment Marcy, you’re not fully recovered yet.” She recognized the voice.

“Cameron? Where are you?”

A hand gripped her head and turned it to the right, Cameron was standing right beside her, now holding her head. He grinned, “still waking up then, are we? How do you feel?”

Marcy realized how tired her body felt she could barely do more than shrug weakly as she returned Cameron’s grin, “like I haven’t slept in weeks.”

Cameron undid the clasps and then lifted Marcy onto a nearby medical cot. He produced a thick medical towel from a lower drawer and began drying her off, “I’m not surprised. I think this machine speeds up your metabolism to heal injuries.” Marcy winced and Cameron froze, his faced filled with worry, “what’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

Marcy nodded, “Yeah, my stomach, I’m starving.”

Chuckling, Cameron produced a pair of protein bars, “was saving these for an emergency, but I think you deserve them.”

As Marcy unwrapped one of the bars she surveyed her surroundings, “Where are we? Where are the others? All I remember is…” she trailed off, looking down at the charred hole in her armour.

“Andrias… uh… stabbed you, you were hurt pretty bad.” Cameron pulled up a chair and sat down beside the cot, “We’re still on the castle, but I was able to find this rejuvenation tank and get you patched up a little. I want you to go back in for a couple more hours just to be safe though.” He scratched his beard, which was a curly mess from sweat and grime, his face then brightened, “but the good news is you were the only one seriously hurt, Anne and the Plantars are on Earth, and I was able to get Sasha and Grime onto Joe Sparrow. They should be in Wartwood now.” At the mention of her friends, Marcy broke down in tears, covering her face and curling into a fetal position. Cameron leaned forward, concern and confusion written all over his face, “Uh… don’t worry Marcy I’m sure they’ll be alright, we’ll find them.”

Marcy wiped her eyes and sniffed as her nose ran, “No y-you don’t understand, I’m the reason all of this happened.”

“You mean how you got us all sent here in the first place?”

Marcy turned her head, shocked, “How did you…?”

Cameron placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a grin, “You were way too excited to get that music box working. Almost like you expected something to happen. Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Anyway, even if we pretend that you knew for sure it would work, you had no idea this is where we’d end up. Don’t beat yourself up over this, it’s not your fault.”

Marcy buried her face in her towel, “But it’s more than that, I trusted Andrias, I gave him the music box. He said he’d send us on new adventures to other worlds. I didn’t want the adventure to end. All of this happened because I was selfish.”

“Listen to me closely Marcy. You are not to blame for anything Andrias has done, he is.” He squeezed her shoulder, smiling, “Besides, you’re too young to be thinking like this. Don’t worry about Andrias, I’ll take care of him, just think about home and what you’ll do when we’re all back together on earth.”

“I-I… I don’t want to go home.”

There was silence as Cameron wracked his brain, trying to find the right thing to say, “do you want to talk about it?” He listened silently as Marcy explained her home situation, her parents moving out of town and away from all her friends.

“…and I just ran. I saw the music box in a book at the library. It said it would take me to a fantastical world and…” Marcy trailed off, holding her head in her hands once more.

“Did Sash ever tell you that we moved towns for our mom’s work when we were little?” Cameron paused, looking for a response from Marcy. When none came forth, he continued, “It was right before she met you and Anne, about two years. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised she never told you about it, she was only four at the time.” Noticing Marcy was starting to peer out from behind her hands he continued, “I had to go to a whole new school. Interact with people and teachers I’d never met before. It was tough to fit in when everyone else had already built their friend group. I missed my old friends, a lot. But I did make new friends.”

Marcy peaked out, “but I’m not like you Cameron, Anne and Sasha are the only friends I’ve ever had, what if I can’t make any new friends like you can?”

Cameron snorted, “I assure you; I am not an expert at making friends, far from it. I screwed up badly my first year after moving, I was a solitary weirdo.” He scratched his beard and smiled, “but I did move past that, I figured out that if I just joined groups that were doing stuff I liked then eventually I’d meet people I could connect with.” He paused and looked at Marcy, “The point is, you’re a smart likable girl, Marcy, you’ll be alright no matter where you are. And besides, no one said you still can’t be friends with Anne and Sasha. Unlike when I had to move towns you’ve all got phones and video chat. Sure you won’t be seeing each other daily but you can still be close to them.” He chuckled, “And tell you what, if you guys ever want to get together I’ll personally chauffeur them out to see you.”

Marcy smiled, her eyes still a little puffy from crying, “Thanks Cameron, that sounds really nice.”

Cameron gave her a hug then stood up, “now, finish your snack. I want you to go in the tank for at least another four hours before we move out.”

Marcy awoke sometime later, thirst causing her to stir. She opened her eyes, watching as the bubbles rise around her. Reaching out she pressed upon the button Cameron had showed her. With a splash the tank evacuated, sending her stumbling forward out of it. She steadied herself, holding onto the medical cot for stability. She felt stronger than she had last time, and though he chest still ached she could breath normally. She looked around the room.

Cameron was slumped against the wall, eyes closed and chest rising gradually as he breathed. Marcy’s own breath, however, caught in her throat. She’d been too delirious before to notice Cameron’s injuries but now that she had her wits about her, she could see the toll he’d taken. Cuts, scrapes, and bruises covered his body, most bandaged but others had just formed large clots of dried blood. There was a hole in his shoulder, which with a twist of her stomach Marcy realized looked very much like her own stab wound. Stumbling over she shook Cameron by the shoulders, “Cameron! Cameron! Wake up!”

“Ah!” Cameron convulsed as his wounded shoulder was twisted.

Marcy retracted her hands, “oh shoot, sorry!”

Cameron blinked and winced, “It’s alright… what’s going on?”

“You’re hurt!”

Cameron chuckled but closed his eyes as he fought against the pain, “You don’t say.”

“Enough sarcasm, get in the tank!”

“No. No time. If you’re healed up, we need to get a move on. The longer we stay put the greater the risk Andrias finds us. We’re already pushing our luck as it is.” With a grunt of exertion Cameron stood, he patted Marcy on the head, “Don’t worry about me. I scrounged up enough ingredients in the infirmary to make one of Maddie’s healing potions. These cuts and bruises may look bad but they’re mostly superficial.” He winced as he rolled his left shoulder to loosen it up, “mostly…”

Marcy looked him up and down and wrinkled her nose, she sighed, “So this is what it’s like on the other side of responsibility… Well, if you’re not going to take care of yourself can you at least take care of me? Where’s the water?”

Reaching down to his side Cameron handed her his canteen; it was half empty. He grinned weakly, “not exactly ice cold I’m afraid.”

Marcy took a deep swig, draining the canteen dry. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, “not feeling particularly picky right about now.” She froze and grimaced, “Oh no that was the last of it wasn’t it?”

Cameron smiled, “Don’t worry about it, I drank a potion remember? There’s at least a little water in those. Anyway, ideally we’re going to get out of here before we need to worry about water rationing.”

Marcy handed him his now empty canteen back, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve, “Speaking of getting out of here, do you have a plan for that?”

“Actually, I was hoping you might. You’re the one who lived here for months. What’s the fastest way out of the castle from the infirmary? I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you’ve been here at least once.”

Marcy averted her eyes laughing nervously, “Whaaat? I mean sure I guess once or twice… Wait we’re behind the castle infirmary? There was a secret passage there this whole time!? I wonder what other secrets I missed. Oh! Oh! That passage in the library must have been made by the same people who made this room! I knew the décor was familiar!”

Cameron’s eyes narrowed, “I know it’s exciting, but focus Marcy.”

“Right, not as in we turn right but... never mind. Left turn and two rights go to the basement that had a change in architecture, which I thought at the time was weird like it was two buildings. Guess it was after all.”

Cameron gestured as he turned to move the bookshelf, “come on then, the longer we wait here the more time Andrias has to find us.”

> System initialization complete.
> Establishing connection to lunar_nexus...
> Connection established successfully.
> Data analysis initiated...
> Data analysis complete. Results stored in report.txt
> :run diagnostics
> Diagnostics execution in progress...
> Diagnostics completed successfully. All systems operational.
> Retrieving data: Cameron Andrew Waybright, Marcy Regina Wu
> Initiating analysis of human subjects...
- Subjects: Cameron Andrew Waybright, Marcy Regina Wu
- Analysis Output: Subject analysis report
> Running predictive algorithms on subject movement data...
- Predicted destination coordinates: Theta-5, Sector Delta-9, Quadrant Gamma
> Identifying target host based on subject data...
- Host identified: Marcy Regina Wu
> Initiating host potential assessment for Cameron Andrew Waybright...
- Collecting and cross-referencing data with Marcy Regina Wu's data...
> Activating maze protocol...
- Maze protocol activation confirmed
> Monitoring subject performance...
- Performance comparison report: Pending

Chapter Text

Cameron poked his head around the corner, “Alright it’s clear.” With his head on swivel, he stepped out into the hallway with Marcy close behind. The castle was quiet with the only audible sound being the dull hum of the mighty engines that kept it aloft. Following Marcy’s route through the labyrinth that was the castle Cameron couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Yet whenever he turned to search his surroundings, he was ever greeted with the same barren hallways. He bit his lip.

It's just the stress, if they knew where we were this hallway would be flooded with frobots.

Marcy broke into a run, “It’s just up here, come on!” She darted around a corner.

Having been lost in his own thoughts Cameron was too slow to grab her, “Marcy, wait!” As he rounded the corner, he saw the hallway was barred by a large metal wall. It was a dead end.

Marcy was standing before the wall, “aw come on, you’re not supposed to be here!”

Cameron approached the wall and ran his hand over it, noticing a seam in the surface, “I think this is some sort of blast door. Have you seen one of them before?”

Marcy shook her head, “No, I’ve walked down this hallway half a dozen times and there was never anything like this. Behind this door, it’s a straight shot to the basement.”

“Is there another way through?”

Marcy thought for a moment, “There’s a couple, but it’s a bit of a roundabout way to get there.”

Cameron shrugged, “Roundabout will have to do then.”

Marcy slumped against the side of the metal door, the fourth one they’d come across so far, “well that’s it, they’re all blocked.”

Cameron stepped forward and examined the door closely. It was two large pieces of metal pressed firmly against each other. It seemed one half extended from the ceiling while the other rose up from the floor. Across the door was a series of bolts, apparently to hold it together. He checked the nearby walls. As with the other four times they were barren. He stepped back scratching his beard. He paused, “Marcy, how’s your ancient Amphibian?”

Marcy looked up, “I don’t have one.”

“No, I mean the language, you went through the temples right you must know at least a little.” Cameron pointed to the bolts on the door, “it’s probably nothing but that pattern doesn’t look random.”

Gazing up at the door Marcy tapped her lip, “Well it doesn't look like any letter rune I know of.”

Cameron ran his finger across the bolts, trancing the shape, “a number then maybe… woah!” there was a click He froze as he heard a noise echo down the hallway: a hiss, and the screech of metal, “I think something just opened up.”

Backtracking the two found their progress blocked by a new door. Taking a corridor to their left they circled around and managed to navigate back to their original start point, standing in front of the first blast door. It was open. Behind it lay another blast door. Cameron let out a small grunt of annoyance.

Marcy snapped her fingers, “oh I get it, it’s a maze but the more you solve it the more paths get cut off.”

“I don’t know Marcy…”

She slapped the side of her head, “Aw shoot did I get it wrong? My brain must still be goo after the tank. Heh.”

Cameron shook his head, “no, you’re right I had the same thought. What worries me is that there is a solution. If you wanted to make a security system, why make it solvable? And if it must be solvable then why not just have a pin pad for a code? Why make up this convoluted puzzle?”

Marcy shrugged, “maybe the designer was just a little eccentric? I mean, we’re talking about the same people who made frog robots and called them frobots. Between that and the flying castle I don’t think practicality was at the forefront of their minds.”

“I hope you’re right, my paranoia tells me something is testing us, but I don’t think we have any other choice but to play along. Do you have something to write on?”

Marcy reached into her satchel and pulled out a notebook, “never go anywhere without it!”

Cameron accepted the note pad, flipping through it skimmed some of Marcy’s notes, “immaculate note taking as always.” Flipping to an empty page of the notebook he began sketching out the hallways, “Alright let’s solve this thing. First things first, we need to find out where all the doors that can pop out are.”

The maze was an intricate contraption designed to entrap those who attempted to solve it. It consisted of forty heavy blast doors. Each door was keyed to between one and four others, activating it would cause the others to toggle between open or shut. The goal was to arrange the maze into a configuration such that the eight blast doors that sealed the way to the exit would all be open and those inside had a route to it. Anyone attempting the maze ran the risk of getting stuck in a closed loop, unable to progress or escape, dooming them to a slow death from starvation and dehydration. The maze had been designed as a mathematical thought experiment by the Core as it toyed with escaping prisoners. In the two thousand years since its construction, only a handful of Amphibia’s best and brightest had ever managed to solve it, and even then, attempts could take up an entire day. Cameron and Marcy were opening the last gate in less than thirty minutes.

As they strode though the hallway Marcy skipped along, her troubles temporarily forgotten, “Oh man that was fun! It’s like one of those escape rooms, but this one was actually a little difficult.”

Cameron couldn’t help but smirk, Marcy’s enthusiasm was infectious, “well most escape rooms aren’t usually designed with the consideration that a super genius like you or me is attempting them. But if it’s a challenge you want; my buddy, Tyler, told me about this one escape room run by a bunch of STEM grad students. They make a new escape room every month for other university students looking for a challenge.”

Marcy’s eyes lit up, “really?”

Cameron chuckled, “Yeah, remind me to ask him about it when we get home.”

As they rounded the final corner Cameron and Marcy were greeted by a powerful breeze. Sure, enough before them was an open alcove that looked out into open air and over amphibia. Cameron gazed down; he wasn’t particularly afraid of heights but the sheer distance to the ground made his stomach twist slightly. They were easily a thousand feet in the air. A drop from this height, even into water, would be debilitating at best.

“Damnit, we’ve flown higher.” He turned to Marcy, “I don’t suppose you’ve got a parachute in that bag of yours?”

“Nope, got anything in that utility belt?”

Cameron shook his head, “Nothing big enough definitely.”

Marcy cocked an eyebrow, “what happened to your grappling hook?”

“Broke it on Yunan’s face.”

“You know, she’s not a bad person if you get to know her.”

Cameron was about to make a comment about Marcy track record as a judge of character recently, but he decided better of it, “maybe you could tell her that about me too.”

“Let’s see how long of a bet sheet rope we can make with the stuff in the infirmary.” As Cameron turned to retrace their steps, he felt something wrapped around his right leg. It was cold and metallic but moved like a living being. Before he could express his shock, Cameron was pulled upward into the air. Hearing Marcy cry out his name he raised his head to see if she was alright.

*Crack*

A sharp blow to the back of the head sent him tumbling into unconsciousness.

Marcy let out a small yelp as she saw Cameron’s body fall to the ground with an unceremonious thump. The long tube-like appendage retreated into the vent it had struck from, vanishing just as swiftly as it had appeared. She ran over and shook Cameron's limp form, “Cameron, wake up! Come on, please!”

“I’d let him sleep Marcy dear,” Marcy turned in horror as King Andrias stepped out of the stairwell behind her, “the poor boy looks exhausted.”

The cell was dark and fittingly dank. Cameron collapsed onto his cot was a groan, the small sharp stone he’d been trying to use as a makeshift screwdriver rolled onto the ground. The noise stirred his cellmate. Marcy looked up, rubbing sleep from her eyes, “did you break something?”

Cameron could hear the desperation and hope behind her soft tone, he rose into a sitting position and picked the rock back up, “No, but almost, I can feel one of the screws turning.”

Marcy’s eyes lit up, “that’s great, then it’s just three more and we can open the panel. After that it’ll be a cakewalk.”

Cameron chuckled, “of course it will be,” He looked down at the stone which had chipped its sharp end again, “get some sleep Marcy, it’s still dark out.” Cameron grimaced as he assessed the situation for the tenth time that day, the cell door was locked by some kind of electronic keypad. While he did not doubt that he and Marcy could sort out something with whatever wiring it had, he was far less certain about what would happen should they get to that point.

He had considered hijacking a frobot for its flight pack but there was no way to do that without raising the alarm, which would undoubtedly draw the attention of whatever entity had knocked him out last time.

Cameron lay back on his cot, they were too deep inside the castle for any kind of natural light to reach them, so he’d lost track of the number of days they’d been held here. If he had to guess it was about two but that wasn’t even counting the time he’d been unconscious. They'd taken his watch, in fact, he’d been stripped of all of his normal clothes and travelling gear. He and Marcy were now wearing these black body suits the frobots had given them, the Amphibia version of a prison jumper he supposed. What was curious about them however was that they had armour plating and what he could only describe as connection ports. The ports didn’t look sturdy enough to be for restraints but with no further information to work with he’d been left with no choice but to abandon his investigation of them.

He could tell Marcy was nearing her breaking point. After everything the poor girl had gone through it was a testament to her strength that she wasn’t a weeping mess right now. He had worked hard to keep the young girl’s spirits up, but deep-down Cameron couldn’t help but feel hopeless about the whole situation.

As he drifted off to sleep his mind wandered to Sasha and Anne, one could only guess at what was happening to them.

The sound of electronic beeping stirred Cameron from his slumber, someone was opening the cell. Rising to a crouched position he prepared to pounce. Through the small cell window, he caught the sight of armour and robes on the other side of the cell door. With a creak, the door swung open and revealed a face Cameron knew well. He pounced forward letting out a low snarl as he tackled General Yunan to the floor, delivering a swift uppercut that stunned the newt. Landing two more swift blows he turned to the general’s companion ready to satisfy his rage on whatever lackey Yunan had brought with her. Instead of a creature in military garb, he came face to face with Lady Olivia. Slightly taken aback Cameron paused, Yunan landed a kick on his jaw from her prone position and the two resumed their brawl, scratching and biting one another as they rolled on the ground.

Lady Olivia landed two swift blows with a closed fist on both fighters, though hardly enough to stun either it caused them to turn to her in anger or confusion, “stop this at once, we’re here to rescue you!”

Cameron was still gripping Yunan by the neck while the general had extended her arm blades and had a pair pressed firmly against Cameron’s chest he narrowed his eyes at Olivia, “And why should we trust you?” nodded down to Yunan, “Psycho here, vowed to kill me.”

Olivia crossed her arms, “Need I remind you I’m the reason you found the rejuvenation tank?” She rubbed the back of her head, “and despite your brutish tendencies I still misled the King, sending him and his frobots on a while goose chase to the other ends of the castle.” Seeing neither Cameron nor Yunan was budging she sighed, “I need you both to be adults and put aside this childish grudge match, at least until the current crisis is under control.”

Marcy walked out of the cell, “come on, we’re all on the same side here guys.”

Cameron and Yunan eyed each other, neither moving an inch. Cameron’s eyes narrowed, “this is a temporary truce, agreed?”

Yunan spat to the side, “of course it’s temporary, after we take the head of the king I will pay you back tenfold for that cheap shot you landed on me!”

As the two withdrew from each other, Marcy cheered silently, “Enemy mine trope!”

Cameron stood up, “Not that I don’t appreciate this, but it doesn’t seem that either of you can fly.”

Olivia nodded, “true, but I know how to change that. There’s a hangar bay where the frobot forces have been docking these smaller flying vessels two levels up from here. We’ll use one of them to make our escape.”

Cameron grinned, “and do you know how to fly one of those things?” seeing the blank faces that met his gaze he sighed, “oh well, how hard could it be. Let’s hope one of us can figure them out.”

As they walked down the cell block a thought suddenly struck Cameron, he turned to Olivia, “does this prison not have guards?”

“Why would it? We’re in a flying castle, no way in no way out as far as Andrias knows.”

Cameron grimaced, “that does not fill me with confidence, Andrias may be a smug prick, but I don’t we can accuse him of being an idiot-” As he spoke, they stepped though the archway out of the cells and were greeted by a fresh a lazy breeze. Cameron froze, they were outside the castle, not hundred of meters in the air either, they were in the fields of amphibia. Cameron whirled around, “wh-where? What… How?”

A voice called to him, “Cam? Is that you?”

Turning towards the sound Cameron laid eyes on his sister who strode out of fog that had descended around him, “Sash?!”

Sasha walked closer, “Why did you abandon me, Cam?”

Cameron stepped backward, “no… I… Marcy needed help I couldn’t leave her, I sent you with Grime back to Wartwood.”

Sasha’s face twisted, becoming a nightmarish horror, “you abandoned me when I needed you the most, just so you could play hero!”

Cameron fell back, he bumped into something, a small orange eye darted out of view, confused Cameron turned back to the Sasha-thing. Just then he heard Marcy call out, “it’s an illusion, smash the eyes!”

Cameron looked at the Sasha-thing, it opened its mouth wider than his own head, “you left me!”

Screwing his courage to the sticking place Cameron let out a bellow and charged the Sasha-thing, landing a punch directly in its gaping mouth. He was rewarded by the sound of shattering glass and sharp pain as some small pieces pieced his skin, the spectre vanished. As the illusionary world flickered, he saw Marcy and Yunan, similarly striking eyes as they appeared around them. He closed his eyes, listening for mechanical noises.

Behind.

Turning swiftly, he opened his eyes and kicked hard into a tree that stood behind him, another eye shattered. As the illusion dissipated it became easier and easier to find the eyes. Soon the four of them were standing in a domed metallic room filled with wiring and dozens of broken eye lenses.

Cameron wiped sweat from his brow and picked a small piece of glass out of his left hand wincing, “Well that explains the lack of guards. Let’s get moving before-” Too late he heard the distinctive footsteps approaching from behind. Andrias slammed Cameron against the wall, pinning him a meter above the ground with his left hand.

“Leaving so soon? But we have so much to discuss.”

Olivia gasped, “but how did you-”

Andrias examined the nails on his free hand, maintaining a cool attitude even as Cameron strained against his grasp. His voice dripped with scorn and superiority, “Simple, we’ve been watching you the whole time.”

Cameron snarled and tried to bite the massive hand pinning him, “Marcy, run!”

The king pressed Cameron more firmly into the wall and addressed the others, “Surrender or I’ll crush him!”

Cameron snorted, “He’s bluffing, he can barely keep me pinned here guys!” There was a creak, and all the wind was driven from his body, “oof- okay may not barely…”

Marcy held up her hands, “we surrender! Please don’t hurt him!”

Andrias chuckled, “I always knew you had a good head on your shoulders Marcy.” His face fell, “unfortunately this is where that comes back to bite you.” A massive robotic being descended from the ceiling behind Marcy, Olivia and Yunan. It was composed of a central orb with over a dozen thick tentacle appendages that it used to move itself around, on the central orb were many large neon orange eyes. It let out a piercing screech.

Marcy stared at the robot in confusion, “what the heck is that?”

A throne of dark metal woven to look like coral rose from the floor. Andrias gestured, towards the robot, “Behold! Our ultimate creation. A collection of Amphibia’s greatest minds, preserved for all eternity.”

Slowly and meticulously the robot reached out. It wrapped its pincers around Marcy’s arms, holding her in place. Olivia and Yunan turned to the King, concern and anger plain on their faces.

“What are you doing, Andrias?”

“Stop it, you maniac!”

Andrias continued as if he had not heard them, his eyes twinkling with glee and wonder, “studying the Mossman improved our medical technology. But it wasn’t until we met the Shadowfish that we truly learned to conquer death and thus, the Core was born.”

Macy wriggled against her bonds, “Let me go!”

Cameron’s mind raced, “is this some kind of vitality transfer device? Use me, I’m way stronger than her, you’d get a whole lot more mileage out of these muscles.” He strained against Andrias’ grip, losing it slightly but not enough to wriggle free.

Andrias shook his head, “I wish I could. I found Marcy’s company far more enjoyable than yours. But my lord craves a host. And it wanted the best, the smartest.” His eyes narrowed, “the only one who could beat me at flipwart.”

Cameron and Marcy locked eyes as they realized what was about to occur. Cameron began furiously fighting back against the King’s grip. Twisting, he lodged his foot against the giant amphibian’s thumb and with a wild burst of energy broke free. He rolled across the ground, sprang up and charged towards Marcy. She struggled harder against her restraints as she called out, “Cameron, look out!”

One of the core’s tentacles sped towards Cameron, its claws open and ready to grab him as it had done to Marcy. Diving to the side Cameron narrowly dodged, dropping into a roll again as two more tentacles snaked towards him. One latched onto his leg, causing him to stumble to the ground. Cameron kicked at the claw that held his foot to no avail. Andrias strode up to him. Looming over the boy like a mountain over a valley, “a valiant, if wasted, effort Waybright.” Three other claws snagged Cameron’s other limbs, holding him firm. The Core pulled Cameron up like a puppet on strings so that he faced Marcy and the throne.

Marcy was visibly panicking, “Please Andrias don’t do this!”

The king looked down at the floor, but he kept his smug grin, “Honestly, Marcy? I like you. Always have. I begged the core to consider an alternative host, but alas…” suddenly he fell silent, closing his eyes as if deep in thought. A slow smile crept across his face, “Are you sure my lord? You were quite set on Marcy.” A screech that stung everyone’s ears emanated from the Core. Andrias bowed, “Forgive me, my lord, I did not mean to cast doubt upon your will.”

With a violent yank, Cameron was pulled across the room by the tentacles.

Marcy stopped struggling, “wait, what? She turned her head to Andrias, “What are you doing to him?!”

“It seems there’s been a change of plans my dear.”

The tentacles fastened Cameron to the throne, he’d stopped struggling. As thick wires fastened themselves to the ports in his bodysuit Cameron glared at Andrias, “If I cooperate will you leave Marcy alone?”

The King snorted, “your compliance isn’t a factor.” He paused and for a moment Cameron though he saw Andrias’ features soften a little, “but… I am feeling generous. Very well, Marcy Wu will come to no harm if you cooperate.”

The tentacles released Marcy, dropping her to the floor. Scrambling up, she ran over to Cameron, there were tears in her eyes, “I-I don’t know what to do. How do I stop this?”

Cameron leaned forward, looking her dead in the eyes, “Hey, hey look at me! Look at me! You’re going to be alright, you got that? You’re a smart girl, if you set your mind to something there’s nothing you can’t do. You’ll find a way out of here. Find Anne and Sash, they need you and you need them.”

There was a hiss, and a black helmet with axolotl horns began to descend from the ceiling. Through her tears, Marcy saw true fear cross Cameron's face as he looked up. He looked back at her, swallowing hard and doing his best to hide his rising terror, “L-listen, if you see Sash, tell her... t-tell her that her big brother loves her.”

Yunan pulled Marcy back as the helmet fell over Cameron’s eyes. Cameron was still speaking, “W-whatever walks off this throne might look like me… b-but no matter what you can’t trust it, you have to remember it’s not meEEEEE.” His words turned into a scream as the helmet locked onto his face. Rune-like code lit up along the wires connecting Cameron to the Core, flowing into him. Then just as suddenly as it began Cameron and the Core fell silent. The large orange eyes dimmed, and the Core collapsed, shaking the ground as it landed with a loud shriek of scraping metal.

Marcy held her hands up to her mouth stifling a scream. Olivia and Yunan hung their heads, looking at the ground.

Andrias broke the eerie silence that had filled the room, “the time has finally come for the core to lead us to our destiny.” He strode up beside Cameron’s limp form, “but what destiny, you ask? Well, I suppose I should just let it speak for itself.” He gestured as a circus master might introduce a new act and backed away.

Marcy, Olivia, and Yunan turned their eyes to Cameron. He twitched, then rose to a sitting position. His movements were unnatural, puppet like, and sharp. Orange eyes blinked open on his helmet, identical in configuration to those that had gone out on the core just moments ago. The thing that had been Cameron twisted its face into a smile. When he spoke, his voice was echoed by a dozen others, “Why, hello there.”

Slowly it stood, tearing away the wires as it descended from the throne. It looked over at Marcy who had fallen to her knees, “Andrias, take her to her old quarters.” looking over at Olivia and Yunan its eyes narrowed, “and have these two fitting with mind-collars, it would be a shame to waste such effective servants.” Frobots marching into the room snagging both newts. Olivia cried out in terror and Yunan struggled furiously against her bonds.

The thing that had been Cameron curled the corner of its mouth, “We promised Marcy would come to no harm general, do not think that courtesy applies to your lady friend there.” Casually it gestured to Lady Olivia, “Should you resist, she will pay the price.” Yunan’s head fell and silently she was dragged off by her captor.

Andrias cleared his throat and walked up behind Marcy, “yes, I will see it done my lord.”

“Lord… such a small title, and wholly unbecoming of the majesty that is me.” The thing that had been Cameron looked down at its hands as it balled them, then looked up at Andrias, “Do you know what we are Andrias? No- what I am.”

Andrias paused, unsure of how to respond, “I- yes of course my lord, you are the Core. The greatest feat of engineering and biology the universe has ever know.”

“No, that was but one chapter in my existence. You have forgotten who I was before the Core.” It spread its hands out wide, “I was kings! I was conquerors! I bent entire worlds to my will and built an empire that, even in the ruins of the present, endures.”

Andrias bowed, “I have not forgotten my lord.”

“Then why do you call me lord?”

“My lord?”

The thing turned to Andrias, its eyes blazing and it’s voice laden with venom, “say lord one more time and I will make you regret the day you were born.”

Andrias dropped to one knee, “I meant no disrespect. How should I address you?”

The thing walked in front of Marcy, it knelt down and lifted her tear-drenched chin up so that she was staring into its ten orange eyes, “So, Cameron wants you, Sash, and Anne to be the little heroes of this fantasy story you set up.” Marcy felt sick. It used Cameron’s mannerisms, his speaking pattern, his cadence. It grinned, “but I can’t help but feel there’s a piece missing. As I trawl through Cameron’s memories, I find the best stories always have a strong antagonist. A true threat to the heroes, the dark king they must overthrow.” Letting go of Marcy’s chin it ruffled her hair with false affection, “but fear not, your story is saved, my dear Marcy. Your dark king has arrived.”

Andrias raised his head, “is that the title you choose? Dark king?”

Rising from his kneeling position in front of the petrified Marcy the Dark King stroked his beard, “Yes… but we can’t have two kings for one kingdom, can we?” his voice shifted, taking on the voice of Aldrich, “Remind me again son, what was your final mission as crown prince?”

Andrias bowed his head in shame, “To invade Earth father…”

“Yes… should you accomplish that task you may have your title back.” His voice shifted back to Cameron’s mixed with the background echoes of the core, “But until such a time there is only one King in this world. The Dark King!”

Chapter Text

It was a cloudy day in Los Angeles California, relatively chilly too, as the late autumn winds buffeted the city. With December fast approaching, Christmas, and other holiday decorations had been strung up as people began to feel the festive spirit. Holiday shopping too had begun, stores buzzed with excitement as shoppers worked through their shopping lists, trying to cram ever more time into the day.

For a great number of people, it was a time of excitement and anticipation but for the little girl who sat with puffy eyes under the park tree excitement was the furthest thing from her mind. Sasha wrapped her hands around her knees, pulling her legs in close to her body as she leaned her back against the tree, trying to make herself look as small as possible. Her cheeks wet with tears and her hands and knees were covered in dirt, she rocked back and forth, burying her head between her knees as she made small sobbing noises.

A hand tugged gently on her ponytail, “hey, did you lose something?"

Lifting her head and rubbing tears from her eyes Sasha was only able to mumble out a half phrase between tears, “t-took my ball…”

Something rolled and bounced softly off her leg, “this ball?”

It took Sasha a moment to process what had transpired, but as the pieces clicked in her mind she grinned through puffy eyes, “you got it back!” Grabbing the soccer ball she looked up, “how’d you get it?” A nine-year-old boy stood over her wearing a Star Wars the Clone Wars t-shirt and jeans. He was lanky and had messy blonde hair.

Cameron smirked and shrugged his shoulders, “I just asked nicely.”

As her vision cleared of the tears Sasha noticed mud and grass stains on Cameron’s pants. His blonde hair was ruffled and the neck of his shirt had been stretched by someone pulling on it. She frowned, “mom said you weren’t allowed to get into fights.”

“I didn’t get in a fight.” Cameron kicked the ground and pouted, “I just gave him a little push when he didn’t hand over our ball.”

Sasha stood up, still holding the ball which was almost as big as her, “dibs on not being the goalie!” She took off towards the soccer goalposts, dropping the ball and kicking it awkwardly as she ran.

“Aw, no, come on. You suck at kicking,” Cameron took off after her, “but… you’re like, really, really good at getting the ball for me though. I bet you could go pro if you practice more, like right now.”

Sasha had to use her hands to stop the ball from rolling away from her as she reached the goal. She turned and stuck her tongue out at her big brother, “Nah! Now, get in goal.”

Kicking the grass again Cameron wandered over to the goal, taking up a stance in the middle of it. He glowered over at Sasha, “five shots and we switch.”

“Only if they’re good shots!”

“No! If you kick the ball it counts.” Taking a few steps back Sasha took a running start at the ball. At the last moment she reached down and picked it up, throwing it at the goal. Cameron slapped the ball away, “that’s one!”

“But I didn’t kick it!”

“We said shots!”

“No, you said if I kick the ball it counts, I didn’t kick it.”

Picking up the ball Cameron threw it fast at his sister’s feet, it bounced off her right foot before she could move it, “there, your feet touched it. That’s one.”

The game devolved into an argument and the two siblings began throwing the ball back and forth, aiming for each other now and not the goal. As he brought his hand back to hurl the ball at his sister Cameron spotted three boys walking towards them from across the field.

Sasha saw them too, “Cam, who’s that?”

“The poophead who stole your ball. I guess those are his friends.” Cameron put the ball under his arm, “just stay back Sash.”

The lead boy had messy brown hair, he wore a t shirt and jeans. He looked to be Cameron’s age and like Cameron, mud and grass stains were visible on his clothes. He pointed at the ball, “give me back the ball.”

Cameron stuck out his tongue, “It’s not your ball poophead.”

“We’ll give it back once we’re done with it. You two weren’t even playing with it properly. You shouldn’t have the ball, you’re too stupid to know how it works.”

“No, you’re stupid. You’re so stupid you put poop in your hair.”

The boy rubbed mud out of his hair, “it’s not poop!”

“Yeah, it is, and you’ve got it in your hair which makes you poop head.”

With a scream the boy ran at Cameron reaching for the ball. As the two began a tug of war over it the other two boys joined in, adding their strength to their friend’s efforts. With a thud they all fell to the floor and the tug of war descended into a full-on brawl match.

To an adult onlooker, all they would have seen were four young boys rolling around in the mud, slapping each other, spitting into each other’s faces and pulling each other’s hair. All in all, it was a little bit of harmless roughhousing, even if it was a three-on-one fight, as the three boys were hopeless at coordinating.

But to Sasha’s eyes, she was watching the clash of titans, a spectacle as enthralling as any cinematic fight scene. She watched as her brother fought off three other boys at the same time. He was strong, brave and smart, everything she wanted to be. As she watched the fight unfold Sasha mimicked Cameron’s moves, or at least her fantasied versions of them: throwing punches, kicks and headbutts against invisible opponents.

With a final yank, Cameron pulled the ball out of the other boys’ hands and stood up. They began to rise but then froze as a woman’s voice called out over the playground, “Tyler! Come on, it’s time to go!”

“Fine!” The lead boy, Tyler, pouted, “Keep your stupid ball.”

Rubbing dirt from his face Cameron grinned, “I will. I was doing you a favour anyway; judging the way you fight I bet you suck at soccer.”

Tyler snorted, “As if, you don’t even know how to play, stupid.”

“Oh yeah? 1v1 next time we’re here.”

“You’re on!”

The other two boys looked back and forth.

“Hey, I want to play too!”

“Yeah Ty, me too.”

Tyler scowled, “Alright fine. 2v2 no goalies.”

Cameron, “Our house is number 5034 on that road” he pointed in the direction of their house, “Ring the doorbell whenever you want to play, so I can kick your butt. My name’s Cameron by the way.”

“I’m Tyler.”

“I’m Max.”

“Carter.”

The woman’s voice called out from across the playground, “Tyler let’s go! Max and Carter, your moms are looking for you too!”

Sasha watched as the group trudged off. She turned wide-eyed with wonder to Cameron, “You beat them up so badly they wanted to be friends with you!”

Cameron shrugged, “I think they mostly just wanted to play soccer.” He paused, “anyway, they’re not my friends yet. They did steal the ball from you.”

“Yeah, and you got it back again, this time three-on-one!” Sasha mimicked punches and kicks again, launching into a dive kick that saw her fall flat on her face.

Racing over Cameron lifted her off the ground, “Are you okay?”

Sasha blinked back tears, not hurt but a little shaken from the fall, she looked up at Cameron, “I want to be tough and strong like you… but I’m…” she gestured to herself, “little!”

Grabbing her under her arms Cameron lifted Sasha onto her feet, “well that’ll change, but dad told me the first step to being tough is never giving up.”

Sasha clenched her fists, “I’ll never give up.” Cameron had to fight to hide a grin as his little sister screwed her face up into what she considered a super serious glare. She glanced up at him, “is something funny?”

Cameron shook his head, “Nope.”

Sasha stood still for a moment, flexing her arms, and puffing out her chest. A scene caught her eye over by the swings. Two little girls, apparently her age, being kicked off the swings by two older girls. A defiant look crossed her face, “Watch this Cam, I’m gonna be just like you!”

“I’d love to Sash, but I think I need to get going now.”

“What?” Sasha froze, and the world began to shift around her. The grey and green of LA were replaced by the warm orange of the Amphibian sky. She turned, feeling the weight of her armour as she did so. Sasha felt dread run down her back like ice water, “No.”

Cameron was standing behind the windowsill of the Newtopian Palace. He looked leaner than he had at home, stronger too. There was a double scar over his right eye, given to him by Yunan. His blonde hair had grown out, thick and wild so that it hung over his ears. He’d had to push it to the side, so it didn’t cover his eyes. His beard had grown out too, short but full, like when their dad grew his. He was clad in a suit of ancient, powered, armour that he’d scavenged together, overlaid by a thick cloak. He smiled at her, “I have to go Sash.”

Sasha tried to run back towards her big brother, but her legs refused to cooperate, feeling as if they weighed a thousand pounds, “No! Please!”

Reaching out Cameron pushed her back, “Catch you later Sash.” And Sasha began to fall.

Sasha awoke, sitting bolt upright, gasping. She looked around, her heart racing. A ray of sunlight was shining through a gap in the blinds of the room, illuminating the basement of the Plantars’ house. There was a knock at the door that sat at the top of the basement stairs, “everything alright lieutenant?”

Taking a few deep breaths Sasha nodded, “Y-yeah, Grimesy. I’m fine.”

The toad captain opened the door and poked his head around the corner, “are you sure? You were talking in your sleep again.”

Sasha gingerly stood up out of bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes, “it was just a dream.”

“What about?”

She paused, “uh… nothing. Anyways, don’t we have work to do?”

“Lieutenant.” Grime tutted in disapproval, “It doesn’t do to keep these things pent up. Now, whatever that dream was rattled you badly. I think you should talk about it.”

Sasha sat down on the bed, holding her face in her hands, “it… it was about Cam.”

Grime nodded, “I see.”

“I just...” Sasha clenched her fists, “I just wish we’d had more time. I’m certain we could have figured something out. Maybe if Joe wasn’t wearing armour…”

Grime descended the stairs and put a hand on her shoulder, “We did everything we could.”

“No!” Sasha tore her shoulder out of his grasp, “I could have done more! I could have stayed, helped him fight Andrias, helped him save Marcy…” She broke down, sobbing.

Grime grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, “Pull yourself together lieutenant! Is this what you think Cameron wanted you to do? What about what you told the villagers yesterday? Do you want to fight back?”

Sasha breathed in sharply and wiped tears from her eyes, “Of course I do, but I-I don’t know how!”

Grime growled, “Then what would Cameron do?”

Sasha was silent for a moment, “he… Cam wouldn’t give up.”

“And neither are you.” Grime released Sasha, “These frogs need a leader lieutenant, and they believe in you just like Cameron did. Are you going to let them down?” Sasha shook her head, still sniffing away tears. Grime nodded, satisfied, “You taught me that appearances matter, so make sure you look like the leader they know you can be when you walk out there this morning.” His serious expression melted into one of warm glee, “Also I made a delightful breakfast upstairs, come and get it when you’re ready.”

After Grime left Sasha remained sitting on the bed deep in thought. Standing, she walked over to a mirror lying against the wall. Fixing her hair and putting on her armour she stared at reflection. She flexed, puffing out her chest and raising her chin. In her mind's eye she could see Cameron standing across from her, striking a Superman pose, a slow smile creeping across his face as he watched her match his pose. She squared her jaw, glaring defiantly into the mirror, “Just watch this Cam. I’m going to be just like you.”

Andrias found the Dark King in his workshop. He was hunched over a workbench, furiously disassembling Cameron’s phone.

“Welcome back, crown prince.” The Dark King did not turn, his voice dripped with disinterest, “how is Marcy settling in?”

Andrias’ head dropped slightly at the sound of his new title, it was more than a little humiliating to be reduced to a rank he’d held as a child, “She’s not in a very talkative mood at the moment.”

There was snicker, “heh, no I imagine not.” The Dark King turned to face Andrias, a cruel light in its eyes, “you should do something to cheer her up then. Have the cooks make some cupcakes, red velvet with ube frosting are her favorites. Bring her one with her dinner tonight.”

“Why me your majesty?” The gigantic newt shifted uncomfortably, “the cooks could deliver it themselves, surely there are more important matters I could attend to.”

“What makes you think this isn’t important?” The eyes on the Dark King’s helmet narrowed, still grinning, “You are good friends with her, aren’t you? Friends take care of one another when they’re feeling down.”

Andrias’ eyes narrowed, “is this why you spared her? So you could torment her?”

“Andrias you’re so sentimental.” The Dark King tutted as he carefully removed a circuit board from the phone, “You’ve never quite been able to make the jump to thinking about individuals in terms of their utility. So, I’ll explain in terms you can understand.” Gingerly he picked up a small circuit chip with a pair of tweezers, “Actually, I could kill two birds with one stone here.” He turned to Andrias, still holding the chip, “What do you think of human technology?”

Andrias shrugged, “pathetic, primitive, and wholly without style.”

“Yes, that is what a casual observation would lead one to find.” The Dark King raised the chip up so that his ten eyes could examine it, “this here is a wireless transmitter, quite small wouldn’t you agree? Yet despite its size it can receive and transmit vast amounts of information using light waves.”

“I’m aware of wireless communication, our frobots use it to receive orders and relay their positions.”

“Then let me get to the point. Humans have wireless technology integrated into every level of their civilization. Their wireless communication might not have the sophistication of our own transmitters, they cannot send messages across dimensions. But they have managed to find a solution to problem we never considered a necessity to solve, bandwidth.” Placing the chip back down the Dark King ran his hand up his helmet, touching the wire that hung from the back of his head, holding it there for a moment.

Retracting his hand swiftly he turned back to Andrias, “going back to Marcy. Let’s not diminish her, she’s an incredibly intelligent girl. The fact that her intelligence is comparable to Cameron’s, someone five years her senior, is more than a little impressive. Despite this, however, the choice for host was obvious, Cameron is simply far more durable and powerful.” The Dark King grinned as he saw recognition in Andrias’ face, “I see you’re putting the pieces together.”

“She’s your backup.” Andrias felt something churn deep down inside of himself.

Dread?

“More than a backup. Cameron estimates that one day Marcy is going to surpass him. This outcome is… desirable.” The Dark King held up his hand, examining it, “Mortal flesh is fleeting. Cameron will deteriorate, it is inevitable. When that time comes, I will require a new host. Should Marcy progress as I hope, she will make a fine replacement.”

“If you want her as a replacement why terrorize her?” Andrias furrowed his brow, the fact that this bothered him was making him uneasy, “let the girl recover, send a frobot or one of the cooks to deliver the cupcakes to her, not the one who stabbed her in the back.”

A low chuckle escaped the Dark King’s lips, “You’re unsure of yourself, aren’t you, prince.” Cocking his head back, he fixed Andrias with a demented grin, “some small part of you actually cares for her. I do not doubt your loyalty, but if I can see it Marcy will too. She will have hope, a small buoy of it to cling to. Hope that this will all resolve itself in a happy ending for her.” He pulled his head back, “if she has hope she won’t give up, and if she doesn’t give up, she will wrack her mind for ways to stop me. An active mind is a healthy mind.”

Andrias swallowed, “isn’t there a risk she’ll figure something out?”

“None, my victory is inevitable.” The Dark King stood up from the workbench, “I’m going to the rejuvenation tank, Cameron’s injuries will become inconvenient if left untreated any longer. Deliver the cupcake prince, and while you’re about the castle have those three scientists of yours report to me.” Placing the wireless transmitter chip in a tiny padded case, he pocketed it, “I have a project I want them to work on while I’m resting up.”

Andrias nodded, “what about Boonchuy?”

The Dark King turned and began walking towards the door, “you have operational command until I’m ready to take the to the field Andrias, do as you see fit. The armories are open to you, make full use of them.” Pausing at the door his voice shifted, dropping into the gravely tones of king Aldrich, “I expect great things from you, son. Do not disappoint me.”

Chapter Text

TRANSLATION ENGINE: [HUMAN: ENGLISH_MODERN]

Elapsed time since toad rebellion: two months, seven days.

Groups of Interest (G.O.I.):

Wartwood Resistance (WR):
Location: Unknown
Status: Active
Strength: Insignificant [increasing]
The Wartwood resistance, under the leadership of Sasha Elizabeth Waybright, has engaged in a daring but highly successful guerilla campaign against the frobot forces of Prince Andrias Leviathan.
Losses inflicted by the WR:
Three frobot battalions eliminated.
Twelve elite class frobot units.
Nine frobot manufactories (minor-class).

Croakwood Resistance (CW):
Location: Sector 45 [approximate]
Status: Active
Strength: Insignificant
The Croakwood resistance formed after word of the success of the WR spread. It is anticipated that should they find operational success it could result in a chain reaction of resistance movements rising across Amphibia.
Losses inflicted by the CR:
Four frobot units.

Persons of Interest (P.O.I.)

Sasha Elisabeth Waybright:
Location: Unknown
Status: Active [last sighting 5 days ago]
Sasha has demonstrated a keen understanding of basic strategic planning, having achieved a 1:367 loss ratio against frobot forces. Elimination priority is absolute.

Anne Boonchuy:
Location: Unknown [sector 33, accuracy <12%] [calamity power readings scattered by swamp]
Status: Active [calamity power readings detectable]
Anne Boonchuy and the Plantar family have returned to Amphibia. Method of travel unknown. Capture priority is absolute.

Evaluation:

Crown Prince Andrias has demonstrated poor aptitude to multitask. With his attention divided between the mobilization of forces for the invasion of Earth, the elimination of Anne Boonchuy, and counter resistance activity he had been unable to effectively address any of these tasks.

I am putting the final touches on my own work. When it is done Andrias will be directed to apply himself fully to the mobilization of our invasion force.

I will find Sash.

Chapter Text

The footsteps echoed through the halls of the castle, barely audible over the low roar of the thrusters that kept it aloft. In days gone the castle would be abuzz with life, as servants, dignitaries, and functionaries went about their duties to the kingdom. Petitioners who had travelled from far and wide would loiter in the halls, seeking the ear of the most powerful newts in the land, to whom they would air their grievances. Guards would be stationed at every level, their stern gaze keeping the more rambunctious visitors in line. But no longer.

Those few organic beings who remained were either fanatically loyal, mind-shackled, or kept here against their will. Frobots flew constant patrols around the castle, their orbits looking like bees swarming around a beehive when viewed from afar. That, and the airborne nature of the castle made it more than a little difficult for any petitioners to find an audience, not that any had the courage to attempt such a thing. It mattered not, the monarch was not in the mood to be disturbed from his work, not by petitioners nor even the crown prince.

It had been two months. Two months since the toad rebellion. Two months since the Dark King ascended to his throne, and yet not a soul outside the castle even knew of his existence. As far as the citizens of Newtopia, and the rest of Amphibia, were aware, Andrias was still king.

He chuckled a little to himself as he walked. Somewhere out in the wilds of Amphibia, his enemies were deep in slumber, blissfully unaware of the danger they were in. His heart began to beat faster as he slipped into a daydream. He could see it in his mind’s eye, the swamp ablaze, his foes laid low at his feet. Excitement. Even after two months, the sensation was intoxicating, especially to a being who’d been deprived of hormonal stimulation for the better part of a millennia.

The Dark King quickened his stride, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck muscles as he walked. He had not been idle these two months of isolation. Plates of ebony metal covered his body, absorbing all light. Cameron’s exo-suit had been retrofitted and modernized, its bulk significantly reduced yet providing an even greater boost to the wearer’s strength. The grappling launcher’s claw was gone, replaced by a cruel spike with backwards-facing retractable teeth, designed to maim rather than capture a target. The spike itself had been fitted with a small thruster, providing it with exceptional range and far-swifter deployment. At his hip hung Cameron’s laser sword, resplendent with a new dark metal case and fresh power cell that gave the blade a hateful orange hue. His gauntlets and belt hid all manner of tricks and traps, an arsenal meticulously chosen with certain foes in mind. Across his shoulders swept a pitch-black cloak, lightweight and energy-dampening.

Of course, la pièce de résistance sat atop his head. The horned helmet had taken the longest to modify, mostly because of the new infrastructure needed to accommodate the changes. A third set of axolotl gill-shaped horns had been added, both out of necessity and to conform to the number of gills axolotls actually had, a fact that had been bothering the Dark King ever since he’d put the helmet on. He giggled a little, causing a passing frobot to turn. Paying the drone no mind the Dark King spun on the spot, he took detours, passing through rooms without retracing his steps. He revelled in the freedom. The cable was gone.

The effort to establish a secure and stable connection from the moon to the helmet had required reassigning the production of two major frobot factories for materiel, setting the Earth invasion schedule back by weeks. On top of this, the energy cannon atop the castle had needed to be repurposed as an antenna since it was the only power system with the capacity for the immense amount of energy required to propagate a link of space, folded by the calamity box, between the transmitter on the moon and the receiver in the helmet.

Overall, the project had been costly, and had taken up precious time the Dark King could have used to command his forces. Had the Core been operating from its mechanical shell it knew it would never have gone through was such a vanity project, no matter the tactical flexibility it provided, however, he was no longer the Core.

Andrias had been the first to notice, the arrogance, the pride, the need to be in charge. This eventually had not been unexpected, the Core had been well aware the host’s traits would manifest themselves in its personality. What it had not expected was the enjoyment it found in indulging these traits, and the new mobility afforded to the Dark King by the wireless connection would allow him to do just that. It also removed a critical vulnerability; no longer would a stray sword swing sever his connection to Cameron.

The Dark King came to a halt, before him were the great doors of the throne room. Heavy and ornate they loomed above him like ancient colossi. Placing his hands on either door he smirked, “ready or not, here I come.”

Andrias stood up from his throne with a start as the great doors of the throne room swung open violently. A figure, clad in midnight black amour strode into the throne room, ten blazing orange eyes staring it him from its face. Descending the steps up to the throne Andrias knelt, head bowed, “your majesty.”

The Dark King came to a stop before him, “Prince Andrias…” his voice was cold, running over Andrias like a cool night wind, “I cannot say that your performance these last two months has been impressive.”

Andrias closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, “your majesty, I-”

A hand fell upon his shoulder, silencing him, “But first...” the Dark King looked up at the throne, “Why is it that your throne still sits in this room.” Andrias remained silent, head still bowed.

The Dark King snorted, “Good answer.” He flicked his hand. A serpentine metal claw burst through a nearby vent, slamming into the throne, and crushing it. Debris and dust filled the throne room causing Andrias to cough and the Dark King to hold a hand up over his nose and mouth. He gestured again and the claw swept the rubble to the side. There was the sound of gears turning and metal scraping on metal. Then the throne rose, the same one Cameron had sat on when the Core bonded to him.

Striding up the stairs the Dark King twirled and fell backward into the throne, “yes… this feels right.” He glared down at Andrias who was still facing the opposite way, “you may stand, prince.”

Andrias stood and turned, “What would you have of me, your majesty?”

The Dark King leaned forward, “continue with your banal attempts at excuses, I could use the entertainment.”

Andrias gazed at the floor, doing his best to contain his frustration, “I have no excuses. I have failed you and I beg your forgiveness.”

The Dark King slumped back, a dejected look on his face, “Well this isn’t nearly as fun as I’d hoped.” He tilted his head to the side, letting it rest on his hand, “And here I thought you’d devolved into an energy drink-addicted couch potato, but it seems you have kept your spine.”

Andrias coolly tucked the can he’d been holding behind his back, pretending to be crossing his arms, “I… ahem… I can stop at any time.”

“See that you do. That stuff’ll rot your teeth.”

Hastily Andrias changed subjects, “anyway, I could pretend to grovel for your mercy if that would make you feel better your majesty.”

The Dark King’s lip curled, “That will not be necessary.” He snapped his fingers and a small orange eye opened on the stairs below him, it projected a hologram of Amphibia marked with points of interest and frobot deployments, “let us move on to matters of strategy.”

Andrias gazed down at the map, watching frobot icons circle the castle lazily, “I take it you do not need me to summarize the current state of affairs.”

“I do not, I am well aware of the situation.” The Dark King marked five locations on the map, “The capture of Anne Boonchuy and the elimination of the Wartwood Resistance are of course top priority but in the absence of leads on their positions I have selected these three targets.”

“Capture?” Andrias raised and eyebrow, “it was my understanding that we were to kill Boonchuy.”

“The attempt needed to be made but given that her output of calamity power was sufficient to forestall her demise I have reevaluated.” The Dark King raised his index finger and a blue waveform appeared above the map. Below it an area of south Amphibia was highlighted in blue, “ever since Anne got back to Amphibia, I’ve been trying to use the same method your cloak-bot used to track her down on Earth. It seems however something is interfering with the signal.”

Andrias leaned in close, “Could it be the swamp is causing the interference? We’ve had trouble operating deep in the bush before.”

“That’s certainly part of it, but my intuition tells me it goes deeper.” There of the points on the map lit up: red, green, and blue. The Dark King pointed to them, “Cameron remembers the girls travelling to these three temples. There they recharged the calamity box, draining its power from within them and back into the gems.”

Andrias frowned, “Yes I remember too, I told Marcy about them.”

“They were built before the old empire, not even I know exactly when.” The Dark King slid his hand into the hologram, cupping the second temple’s brilliant blue light in it, “I am certain that the interference is related to these temples. Something or someone is working to hide Anne from us.” He closed his hand, smothering the blue light, “When I return from my other objective. I will take Marcy to revisit the temples.”

“What other objective?”

The two other points of interest on the map flashed. The Dark King tapped one and the map zoomed in on a location marked as ‘Quarreller’s Pass’, “One of our mining operations was destroyed by the resistance here.”

Andrias shrugged, “that’s not particularly surprising, it was a fairly far-flung site.”

“Yes, but what is surprising is that we were unable to recover the drill. Dragonfly drone flyover revealed the drill had fallen into a fissure, deep enough for the unit to fall so far underground it went out of connection range.” The Dark King’s eyes narrowed, “what’s more curious still is why the resistance would target this particular unit. Strategically targeting a mining unit makes sense if your opponent is short on resources but at the moment our bottleneck lies in manufacturing not raw materials. Sash knows this, that’s why she’s been hitting factories and equipment stockpiles, not mining operations.”

“So, you think they were protecting something?”

“Without a doubt. That drill fell into a deep cave, suspiciously close to the place Anne told Cameron she met a mutated olm.”

Andrias’ eyes went wide, “Proteus.”

The Dark King grinned wickedly, “Precisely, after all this time and we stumble across it by mistake. It is time I paid those wretched worms a visit so they might answer for their treason.”

“What of the final objective?” Panning over to it Andrias smiled wickedly, “oh, I see.”

“Croakwood, home of the second resistance.” The Dark King lazily traced the outline of the village, “they pose little threat, but their continued existence sends a message that we cannot allow to spread.”

“I will be happy to remind them of their place in the world.” Andrias cracked his knuckles, “I’ve been itching for action.”

There was a creak as the great doors of the throne room opened, the Dark King shook his head, “I’m afraid you’ll have to sate your bloodlust later prince. I need your focused on the mobilization of forces for Earth. I have selected a different individual to handle the Croakwood resistance.” He leaned his head to the side, “is this what you call punctuality general?”

Yunan stood stock still before the throne at attention. Affixed around her neck was a thick band of dark metal with bulbs of purple light sticking off it. The same purple light shone from her eyes, which gazed unblinkingly up at the Dark King, “my… apologies… your… majesty…”

He chuckled, “Now, isn’t this so much better?”

Andrias grimaced, slightly unnerved, “I doubt this… thing… could command a frobot battalion. Are you certain you wouldn’t rather I handle this?”

“Oh, Yunan will be going alone, isn’t that right general?”

“Don’t… need… army… slowed… me… down…”

The Dark King laughed wickedly, “I’m certain they did. Now, general, your objective is the traitors that dwell in Croakwood. You may consider all entities within the operational area to be hostile. You will be deployed by fleet-ship to the area. Do not return to it until the threats have been eliminated.”

The general twitched slightly, “P-Prisoners…?”

Andrias swallowed back his unease as he saw Yunan convulse, part of her evidently fighting the mind control.

“Hmm.” The Dark King rested his chin in his hand, “I suppose we do need laborers to make up for lost production… fine, should any surrender you may take them as prisoner.”

“Understood…”

As the general departed the Dark King watched Andrias closely, a smile crept onto his lips as he saw the disgust evident on the prince’s face. Hiding his amusement, he turned back to the map, “I will depart at daybreak, I want you to make sure Marcy is ready to travel when I get back.” He grinned, “pack her a lunch why don’t you, something inspired by her mom’s cooking.”

Andrias hung his head, “Yes your majesty… of course.”

The great door slammed, and the throne room fell silent. The Dark King leaned back on his throne, lacing his fingers together as he regarded the map once more. Amphibia was his, his to bend, twist, and pull apart as he pleased. The pathetic lifeforms that dwelt upon its surface were nothing more than fascinating oddities to be dissected and examined, lives to be unravelled for his pleasure. Soon Earth would become his sandbox too, and after that…

Images scrolled in front of him, worlds filled with opportunity and wonder. He paused on one. A world covered by the decaying corpses of titanic beasts. The demon realm would be quite a prize. The universe would shudder before the metaphysical constructs he would build in such a world. The eyes on his helmet glimmered, such powers, and they would all be his. Terminating the slideshow the Dark King stared down at the map, watching as a fleet-ship labelled G.Y. sped away from the castle on a direct course of Croakwood. His dark figure loomed over the little village like an ancient god, he smiled.

“No knight in shining armour to save you this time.”

Chapter Text

Two months ago.

Marcy walked stone-faced through the hallways of the place she’d called home for the last seven months. Up until recently, it had been a place of comfort and security, a place in which she’d hid from the harsh realities of the world, no longer. Andrias paused, waiting for the young girl to catch up, “Would you like me to carry you Marcy? You could ride on my shoulders, I’m afraid this armour doesn’t have pockets…” he trailed off as Marcy stumbled past him. She wasn’t listening, and even if she could hear him, she wouldn’t have responded anyway.

As they reached the door to her quarters Andrias strode forward and held the door open for her, “I had all your stuff unpacked for you and stored away. The bed’s been given fresh sheets and I’ll have clean towels brought up here in the morning if you want a bath.” He paused waiting for a response or at least recognition. When none came he coughed slightly and beckoned to two frobots who were trundling down the hall with a rejuvenation tank held between them, “Anyway… you should sleep in this for the next few days. That scar on your chest…” he paused, “…well it hasn’t healed fully and if you leave it untreated it could get infected.”

Marcy walked into the room and sat down on the bed, facing the window. She and Andrias sat in silence as the frobots connected the tank to the castle’s power grid and piping. Andrias followed them out, pausing at the door he gazed back at the young girl sitting on the bed, her face obscured by her short black hair which shone in the moonlight. Turning his head and closing his eyes as if in pain Andrias shut the door and left.

The footsteps receded down the hall, and soon Marcy was well and truly alone. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, the shock was wearing off. Everything struck her at once; the guilt, the fear, the despair. It flooded her body turning her into a shivered mess of tears as she curled up in a fetal position on the bed. In the space of two short days, her entire life had fallen apart, again.

When Andrias revealed her role in sending her, Anne, Sasha, and Cameron to Amphibia she had thought the looks of betrayal on her friends' faces would be the worst thing she’d ever have to experience. It seemed trivial considering what happened next: Andrias’ betrayal. She might have doomed all of planet Earth, doomed the people she cared about most to a horrid end all because she wanted to stay in wonderland. She felt the scar on her chest, it still burned when she breathed, moved, or talked. She was caught in a vicious cycle, crying agitated her injury shooting pain through her body which only made her cry more.

I deserve this. I deserve to suffer for the pain I’ve caused.

A memory came to her, a memory of strong arms holding her, a voice telling her everything would be okay. She sucked in air and gripped the bed tightly trying to get her panic attack under control. Despite the comfort she took from it the memory stung, Cameron had reached out and offered her a point of stability amid the chaos her world had turned into. A rock that told her everything would be alright, that she’d be safe. Now he was gone too, taken in her stead as the host of the horrifying mechanical beast. Somewhere in the very castle she was in now Cameron’s body was being wielded like a puppet by its new master.

It should have been me.

Find Anne and Sash. The words sprung unbidden into her mind. They need you and you need them. Sitting up Marcy put her head in her hands, “but how? What am I supposed to do?” Cameron’s face flashed in her mind; she remembered the fear in his eyes, but also the certainty in his voice. You’re a smart girl, if you set your mind to something there’s nothing you can’t do. Opening her eyes Marcy stared out the window of her room, watching the red moon as it hung low in the sky. She sniffed back fresh tears as they welled up in her eyes, “I don’t feel very smart right now…” Only silence answered her.

That night Marcy didn’t sleep. Nor did she eat any of the cupcakes Andrias dropped off for her.

Six weeks ago.

The wound on Marcy’s chest was all but gone now, and more importantly, so too was the pain. A thin scar remained, and her blood had taken on a distinctly green coloration but the nurse frobot that was attending her assured her the change was temporary. The rejuvenation tank was a miracle machine, still, Marcy hoped to never need one ever again. There was too much baggage attached.

She poked her head out of her door, the hall was empty. It had taken her a week to muster up the courage to leave her room. When she finally did she thought maybe there’d been some mistake, that she’d managed to escape and was free to leave. This sentiment was dashed almost immediately when Andrias rounded the corner and wished her a good morning, walking off to go about his business just as quickly. Over the next few days, Marcy figured out the conditions of her roaming: if she grabbed a weapon, climbed out a window, or tried to enter a restricted area she'd be grabbed by a frobot and locked in her room for the rest of the day. Otherwise, she was free to go anywhere in the castle she pleased.

She set off towards the hangar, what had once been an open-air ballroom on the third level of the castle. A steady stream of fleet-ships and frobots came and went from the hangar; they were exchanging supplies as well as loading and unloading frobot units. She had no illusions about escaping, the hangar was the one place in the castle she was forbidden entry to. Nevertheless, she’d made it part of her routine each morning to walk by, on the lookout for a gap in patrols she could slip through to freedom. Seeing her approach two frobots marched forward, holing up their hands, indicating she should stop.

“You are not cleared to enter this area.”

Marcy stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck, trying to see past them, “Busy day in the hanger frobot… uh… two?” These two were always the ones that stopped her, she should come up with better names for them…

“You are not cleared to enter this area.”

Marcy shrugged, “Well alright, see you tomorrow.” Turning she began making her way towards the library, the place where she spent practically all day, every day. As she walked down the hallways of the palace Marcy began to skip a little, her troubles temporarily forgotten after her casual meeting with the frobots and the awaiting prospect of a day at the library.

“Well, someone’s in a good mood.” In an instant, Marcy’s carefree attitude shrivel up. She turned, backing up so she was hugging the wall. The Dark King strode down the hallway, black armour glinting in the early morning sun, “off to the library are we?” His lip curled in a cruel smile, clearly taking pleasure in the terror his presence inflicted on the young girl, “by the by, Andrias told me he dug up a couple of new tomes for you from the hidden library. Said they’d be right up your alley.”

Marcy didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She was practically plastered to the wall, frozen as the Dark King stepped past her. Just as quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone. Disappearing into a side corridor that snaked into the heart of the castle. It was several minutes before Marcy could muster the courage to move again. She took a deep breath.

Stay focused Marcy, don’t get distracted.

When she arrived at the library, Marcy found the stack of books the Dark King had mentioned, set beside her usual worktable, along with a large thermos of bug-accinos and a mug. She sat down and looked at the drink suspiciously, then shrugged, “Oh well, if this is poison, I guess you got me.” Pouring herself a cup she turned to the tomes, “So… what did the big backstabber dig up for me…?” She picked up the first book, “Dang, this thing looks like it’s a million years old!” Blowing the dust off the cover, she read the title, “History of Imperial Robotics by King Ald… wait!” She wiped more dust away and gawked at the faded illustration on the cover, “No way…”

It was the Core, or at least some primitive version of it. It was significantly less robust and had only a single large eye at its center. Marcy began flipping through the pages, “holy moly!” it was all here, the schematics, the names of the kings and queens that were uploaded to the Core. She set the book aside and turned to the other book, “Alright buddy that’s a tough act to follow so don’t feel too bad if I’m not as excited about what you have to say.”

Wiping dust off the cover her mouth dropped. Recovered quickly she flipped the book over, glancing around. The library was empty and silent as the grave. Satisfied she wasn’t being watched Marcy flipped the book back over, “Psychomechanics, A Treatise on Mind-Shackling and Bridging the Neuro-Mechanical Gap.” She flipped open the book, scanning the table of contents. The book seemed to detail the operation of mind-collars, going into great detail about their effects and limitations. The name of the last chapter caught her eye, mechanical possession.

Marcy sat back, her pulse had quickened. Possibilities ran through her head, but above all else, one question burned brightest: why? Why had Andrias given these to her? Did the Dark King know she had them? This had to be some kind of trick, the books before her contained information on the two key technologies that propped up the Dark King’s rule. There could be a weakness to find in them, or some blind spot in their design. Was it confidence, were Andrias and the Dark King so confident in their victory they were willing to let her dig through their deepest secrets?

Marcy grabbed her mug and downed the entire bug-accino in one go. She set the empty mug back down on the table with a soft thud. There was another possibility of course, but just thinking about it made her skin crawl, not because it was scary, but because it pulled up memories. Memories and regrets she’d rather not revisit.

Andrias could be helping her.

Two weeks ago.

“Hey Bill, looking sharp chief! Hey Ted, you look different, did you get your optics polished?”

“You are not cleared to enter this area.”

“You are not cleared to enter this area.”

“Aw, come on guys, ‘Drias told me I could watch the ships lift off today. Please?” Marcy flashed the two frobot guards a smile as she tried to slip past them.

“You are not cleared to enter this area.”

“You are not cleared to enter this area.”

The two frobots closed ranks, blocking her progress, she sighed dramatically, “Gee you guys are no fun at all. Oh well, see you tomorrow!” turning on the spot Marcy marched off towards the library. As she went about her daily routine it seemed to all observers that Marcy was back to her usual bubbly self, obsessing over books in the library but despite appearances, Marcy was highly conscious of her surroundings. Or at least as much as she could be given who she was. Her jovial banter hit a deep-rooted sense of anxiety that had been building up over the last four weeks: The Dark King was missing. Well maybe not missing, Andrias seemed to know where he’d gone, but no one had seen him in over a month now. Though the anxiety built up every day as Marcy braced herself for his re-emergence, the king’s absence had helped her adjust to her situation far quicker than she’d thought she would.

Still, he remained forefront in her mind, a guiding motivation as she voraciously tore through the books Andrias provided for her. She didn’t dare take notes or snap photos with her phone lest they be found, instead committing the important bits of knowledge she gleamed to memory. It had made progress slow, near impossible for a normal person, but now Marcy was almost halfway through the second book.

As she rounded a corner a strange sight caught her eyes. Bartley, Branson, and Blair were cleaning out a workshop, piling tools into a wheelbarrow. Marcy poked her head in, the workshop had undergone renovations since the Dark King’s rise. Saws had been replaced with laser cutters and wrenches with hyperspanners.

“How’s it going triple B?”

“Oh, hey Marcy.” Branson looked up and waved, in the process dropping his end of the heavy toolbox causing it to fall onto Bartley who was carrying the other end.

“Youch!” Bartley glared up at Branson, “I’ve been better.”

Marcy ran over and helped lift the box off of the newt, “what you three up to?”

“Oh, just some modifications the king told us to make. Nothing too fancy.”

Marcy’s interest was immediately piqued, “what kind of modifications?”

The three newts glanced at each other.

“Is this supposed to be secret?”

“He didn’t say not to tell any about it.”

“He also didn’t say to tell any about it though.”

“Alright let’s put it to a vote. All in favour of telling Marcy, say aye. Aye.”

“Aye.”

“I just think we should maybe err on the side of caution-”

“Oh, shut it, Blair, you’ve been outvoted it’s over. Tell her.”

Blair glared at his companions before turning to Marcy, “Well… ahem… we are modifying the energy cannon at the top of the palace to transmit light waves of a lower frequency.”

“And by lower he means radio.”

Marcy mind’s whirled as she processed the information, “you’re turning the energy cannon into a transmitter? Why?”

“Ah… well… uh…. We don’t know.” The newts looked at each other sheepishly.

“None of us bothered to ask and the king was in an… unfriendly mood…”

“Do you mind if I watch what you’re doing while you work?” Marcy gave a winning smile, “I promise I won’t get in the way; I can probably even help out a little too.”

The three newts exchanged glances once more, then they shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

“I suppose.”

The project turned out to be an extensive one, with many modifications and tweaks needing to be made to the castle’s energy grid. Hours turned into days but Marcy kept up with the newts, noting everything they did as they consulted a large set of notes written by the Dark King in Cameron’s handwriting.

As they continued work Marcy couldn’t help but wonder why the newts went to such lengths for the Dark King and Andrias. Aside from her they were the only non-mind-controlled beings in the castle. Even the cooks had been given mind collars after the destruction of north toad tower, yet triple B continued their work as if nothing happened. As they broke for lunch one day she finally posed the question, curiosity overwhelming her caution.

“I have to ask. Why are you guys still loyal to the Dark King and Prince Andrias? Doesn’t it bother you how they’re abusing their power and the natural world?”

Bartley swallowed the bite of the sandwich he’d just taken. He shrugged, “Not really, I always wanted to design killer robots.”

“Same, although I’m more of a missile guy myself.”

“Well… I’ve really enjoyed designing the mining equipment that strips entire landscapes of resources.”

“Oh, shut up Blair, we all know you like your flying warships.”

“No! Laser cannon to my head, I would say defoliator every time!”

“Lies!”

Marcy breathed out slowly, sliding away from the newts as they descended into an argument, “well, that explains that I guess.”

Present day.

Late that night Marcy was sat in the library, pouring over her books by candlelight. She shook her head, “what could he possibly need a transmitter that powerful for? The calamity box folds space, so distance isn’t an issue.” She flipped a page of the robotics book, “And besides he’s already connected up to the frobot network by that massive cable that’s attached to the back of his hea-” She froze, “that’s it.” She looked down in horror at the page which showed the earliest schematics of the Core, prominently featuring a thick cable that connected up to the helmet.

“Without the cable, he can roam anywhere on Amphibia.” She balled her fists, “…and cutting that stupid cable won’t work anymore.” She flopped onto the desk, “So that’s it… the only way to stop the Dark King is to destroy the helmet… the helmet that’s around Cameron’s head…” She lay there, wallowing in misery. Suddenly she sat upright, “Wait! I can cut the cable!” Flipping through notes she’d taken of triple B’s work on the antenna, which if found she could claim as being for one of the newts, she tapped a number, “I need to jam this frequency.” Her foot tapped on the ground excitedly as she began drawing on her notepad, “Just a simple EMP pulse, I bet I can whip one up in the workshop tomorrow. It’ll need to be small though, small enough to hide it in my pockets… that doesn’t give me a lot of range and I’m sure the helmet has EMP shielding so I’d need to hit the exposed feature on it… which means I’ll need to get close…”

Gathering up her books she shoved them into her bag, “No, screw tomorrow, I’m going to work on it now!”

Exiting the library Marcy ran straight into General Yunan who was marching down the hall at a fast pace. The collision sent Marcy bowling over, landing on her back with papers strewn everywhere. Desperately she began scrounging up the paper, “Oh, uh, hey Yunan. Fancy seeing you here, uh, don’t bother helping me with these I’ve got them. Just boring stuff like roleplaying game sheets, you wouldn’t find them interesting.”

Yunan didn’t break stride, continuing past her, towards the hangar. Purple glowing eyes fixed ahead.

As she stuffed the last few sheets into her bag Marcy frowned, “I wonder where she’s off to?”

> Two months ago.

>“-EEE Wha- W-Where am I? Hello? Why can’t I see? W-Why can’t I feel my… oh god… Okay… Breath… …I can’t breathe… but I’m not choking… so I guess that’s fine… where the fuck am I?”

>“Welcome.”

>“Gah! Who said that? Wait… have you always been standing there? …why can I see all of a sudden? Why can I… What’s going on? Where am I? What happened to me?”

>“It is understandable that you are alarmed, just take deep breaths and calm yourself. You have arrived at the greatest repository of knowledge in the known universe.”

>“Well that sounds nice and I’d love to poke around but I gotta go, my sister was… was… Sash was… something… sorry, I’m having a bit of a brain fart here.”

>“Take your time.”

>“I just... I feel like I was doing something really important and now that I’ve gotten here… where is here?”

>“We are in the Core.”

>“The Core! Yes. Yes, I remember that… I think… I-I feel… angry… angry and afraid.”

>“From what you were saying earlier you must have had a stressful journey here. Why don’t you relax for a bit, recuperate.”

>“No! I mean… maybe? I really feel like I should be doing something… Marcy! Marcy, she was in trouble.”

>“She is safe now, you have my word.”

>“How do you know if she’s safe or not? What are you doing to her you bastr- Hnrg… Sorry, I… don’t know what came over me, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

>“I am quite alright Cameron. Yes, I know your name, did I not say this was the greatest repository of knowledge in the universe? I’d be a very poor caretaker if I could not answer even your most basic questions.”

>“Alright, caretaker. First things first, how did I get here?”

>“You offered to enter the Core and the Core accepted. You should be proud; you are the first human to receive such an honour. The connection takes time, and since it seems you have a very active mind it may take even longer for you to remember everything.”

>“That… makes sense… does it?”

>“It does.”

>“Well… my brain’s too scrambled to even tell when my eyes are open. So I guess I’ll trust you. Next question, how do I leave? No… never mind… uh… you said first human… you’re a Leviathan… no… sorry… a newt, right? ”

>“Yes, my family and I have built the Core over many thousands of years. Within it, I have total control of my reality, able to shape it as I please. Observe.”

>“Woah.”

>“I can show you how it works if you like. It is a rare opportunity for one to be offered total control of their universe.”

>“That’s… Yeah, I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound appealing.”

>“Then follow, Cameron Andrew Waybright, and I will reveal onto you knowledge and power the likes of which you could previously only dreamt of.”

>“I… I really think I’m forgetting something important… but, I guess… like you said, it’ll come to me in time. Lead on caretaker.”

>“I'm sure it will, and please. Call me Aldrich.”

Chapter Text

“Tell me, prince. What do you know of Proteus?”

Andrias shook his head, “Only what’s documented in the castle library. Which is to say, not much.”

The Dark King let out a dry laugh, “I’m not surprised. It’s been over three millennia since they isolated themselves underground.”

The two royals were standing in the hangar of the castle, watching as the Dark King’s task force loaded onto feet-ships in preparation for his mission. The primary detachment was cloak-bots, put into production with some minor tweaks after the model’s unsuccessful test run on Earth. They were supported by an echelon of inferno-bots, an elite version of the fire frobots already deployed across amphibia, these units employed a far more volatile mix of fuel for their flamethrowers, able to melt even rock. In battle they were to dowse themselves in the substance, igniting it and making it effectively impossible for a foe to engage them in melee. This new taskforce had been designated The King’s Guard, their armour and ships marked by the midnight-black metal that matched their master’s own colour scheme.

Ordnance was also being loaded. Drills, explosives, and plasma artillery emplacements packed the hangar. All told, Andrias estimated the Dark King had assembled enough destructive power to level an entire mountain.

“In my earliest lives, I remember being told stories of the olms. How they guided the folk of Amphibia as spiritual leaders: divining prophecies and teaching us about the universe. I also remember being told how they betrayed our great ancestor, Valeriana. They could not stand the thought of a power greater than them arising in this world, so they turned their backs on us.” The Dark King turned to Andrias, “If there’s one thing to know about the worms it is their selfishness. With the help of your friend Leif, they managed to steal away the calamity box from us, all because they were jealous of our strength.”

Andrias bowed his head, averting his eyes from the Dark King’s gaze, “she was never my friend, I see that all to clearly now.”

“Good. I’m glad you have your priorities straight.” The Dark King clasped his hands behind his back, “There is also the matter of the prophecy, the one the hag Mother Olm dreamed up in a vain attempt to destroy us. The exact words have eluded us, but we know the broad strokes. When the olms sent the box away, they knew three warriors would return with it. These warriors are destined to defeat us.”

Andrias’ brow furrowed, “Has a prophecy been wrong before?”

“Never, but not all is lost. The exact verbiage of the prophecy is critical and often has several interpretations. For example, the prophecy might state that the three warriors shall defeat the king in battle. That does not necessarily imply a total defeat. There is also the matter of Cameron’s presence. In all our knowledge of the prophecy, never do we see mention of a fourth warrior being present. That alone may be enough to deny fate.”

Andrias nodded watching as the last frobots and supplies were loaded, “let us hope you are right.”

“I always am.” The Dark King swept his cloak away from his body as the engines on the last fleet-ship roared into life, warming up for takeoff. He began walking over to its assault bay.

Andrias followed, having to shout to be heard over the engines, “Are you certain you wouldn’t rather I join you? We have no idea how many olms could be down there or what kind of weapons they have.”

The Dark King leapt up, landing gracefully on the metal floor of the ship’s assault bay. He turned, cloak billowing behind him, “No, the invasion preparations are too important to delay any longer with how behind schedule we are.” He grinned, cruel light flashing in his many eyes, “I am sorry to cut you out of the fun though. Want me to get you a souvenir? How about a skull? Aldrich says you used to love when he’d bring home a skull from campaign.”

Andrias felt his gut churn slightly at the eagerness in the Dark King’s eyes, “I’m beyond the need for such childish objects.”

“Are you sure? The olms are blind, you could probably make a pretty good mug out of one of their skulls.”

“Your majesty…”

“Sorry, you’re right. They’re vestigial, probably still have the eye sockets.” He crossed his arms as the ship began to lift off, “maybe I’ll take some photos for Marcy, she loves destroyed ancient civilizations.”

Andrias watched as the ship slipped out into the sky, joining the group of ten other ships, their midnight black hulls shining beautifully against the dawn’s light. Then with a dull roar, they took off, beelining towards Quarrelers’ Pass in the east. Andrias swallowed, there was a foul taste in his mouth.

An emotionless robotic voice droned over the ship’s intercom, “Your majesty, we are approaching the insertion point.”

The Dark King turned away from the holographic map, “Open the bay doors, I want to feel the wind on my skin.” Walking up to the edge of the bay the Dark King crossed his arms and planted his feet. A rush of wind blasted into him, causing his cloak to whip back violently. The cool winter air of amphibia, though far above freezing still stung his cheeks, reddening them a little. Below him law the rocky landscape of Quarrelers’ Pass, barren and misty. It was now midmorning, soon the sun would be high enough in the sky to burn away the mist. Without turning he shouted orders, “All ships except lead, initiate landing sequence. I want a seismic probe set, and this area mapped.”

“By your order, majesty.” Around him the rest of the fleet’s ships began to land, unloading hundreds of cloak-bots and inferno bots who began assembling the drills, artillery, and setting down the explosives. He watched, noticing the position of each battalion as they took position. Deployment was swift, less than ten minutes after the first ship had touched down the seismic probes were transmitting to the holographic map on his ship. Turning away from the open bay door the Dark King examined the map, watching as tunnels were drawn into existence before his eyes. A hungry grin slowly spread across his face as the full picture emerged, “Not bad for a bunch of blind worms…”

The tunnel network was enormous, stretching for miles beneath the rock, creating a veritable labyrinth. Further still beneath the tunnel network was a massive cavern, easily big enough to fit the entirety of Newtopia within it with room to spare. It was multilayered, with small structures faintly visible to the tremor sense of the probes. Proteus. It was incredibly well hidden, the sheer number of passages made stumbling across the city a near impossibility. Were it not for the random chance of the drill’s placement and his deductive skills it was likely the city would have remained hidden from him forever.

The crevice he was looking at had initially been a large tunnel that ran above the city, however, the drill had triggered a series of collapses and now the hole led straight down to the heart of Proteus. He reached out, manipulating the map. Half a mile drop, but survivable for most as the path meandered giving plenty of opportunity to decelerate before the final drop. He nodded; it would do. Turning back to the bay door he began issuing orders again, “All units set up a perimeter around the city. Inferno reserve units move to seal the exits barring the extraction point. Cloak reserve units move to ambush positions. Cut down anything that tries to flee. All ships, prepare bore laser fire, clean up the crevice. I want a direct line to the city from the surface.”

Silently the frobot forces deployed, streaming into the tunnels like liquid metal. A reserve force remained on the surface, protecting and operating the artillery and demolition equipment. The other ships took off, taking up an orbit above the crevice, weapons charging. Reaching down to his belt the Dark King drew his laser sword, igniting it with a hiss. The cloak-bots on his ship drew up behind him, ready for his orders. He pointed the burning orange blade at the surface, “Fire!”

There was a crescendo of sound as the fleet unleashed their might in a single concentrated burst of firepower, boring into the rock, widening the crevice into something that looked like a massive well dug by a giant. He felt the heat on his face, the wave of air being displaced by the energy, he smiled, “I’ve missed this so much.” Then he leapt, out into the air, falling towards the hole still filled with laser fire. Without hesitation the cloak-bots followed, leaping after their dark monarch like ducklings following their mother.

The lasers disengaged and then he was in darkness, with only the rush of air against his skin and the occasional piece of glowing rock to indicate he was falling. He wasn’t worried. Every action had been calculated; every possibility foreseen. With a click his jet boots engaged, not powerful enough to grant him true flight like his frobot underlings, but more than enough to give him a boost, or in this case slow his descent. Suddenly the walls of the hole gave way and he saw it.
The olm city was beautiful, in a very alien way. Rounded mushroom-shaped buildings poked out of a sprawling underground lake, all illuminated by the faint purple of bioluminescent fungus. Great strands holding aloft massive chains of crystal adorned the city and even high above hung huge chandelier-like structures made of the same glowing blue crystal. Enormous columns of rock reached up to the ceiling and within their walls, he spied more dwellings and the olms that lived inside them. He scoffed; it was typical of such a worthless species. What use was a decoration to a blind creature?

He landed with a heavy metallic thud, his boots cracking the intricate spiral pattern on the rocky floor beneath him. The cloak-bots landed silently around him, invisible to the naked eye, having engaged their cloak system mid-fall. He raised his head, watching as two olm guards ran up the walkway before, they brandished spears.

He stood, extinguishing his blade, “Greetings olms.”

The two guards sniffed the air wearily, “another human?”

“He smells a little like one of the others. Waybright, I think?”

The Dark King allowed a predatory grin to cross his face. There was no need for him to hide his emotions here. When he spoke his voice was filled with false concern and desperation, “Sash has been here? Please, take me to your leader, I need to speak with them right away! Sash, Anne, and the resistance are in deep, deep trouble.”

The guards lowered their points, one turned to the other, “wait here with the human, I’ll fetch Parisia. She’ll know what to do.”

As the guard left the Dark King called over to the remaining one, “hey, could I ask you something? It’s kinda personal so I’ll need you to get close, I don’t want to go shouting it around.” As the olm drew near his cloak fell back revealing the laser sword in his right hand, “yeah, could you just bend your head down so I can whisper in your ear? Thanks.”

Parisia stormed onto the walkway, a gaggle of guards behind her. She was in a foul mood; it seemed a new human had brought more problems to her city. She snarled, friend of the other two or not this human was going to get a stern talking to about manners. The guard who had called her over pointed to spiral plinth the Dark King had landed on, “over there my lady, the outsider said he needs to know where the other humans went.”

Parisia rose above the Dark King, snarling down at him, “what is another human doing in my city? What dangers have you brought this time?” Suddenly she paused, sniffing the air, “wait… is that smoke?”

The guard was sniffing around, “I left Calith here with the human. Calith? Where have you run off to?”

The Dark King waved his hand nonchalantly, a small amount of ash slipped off it, joining the pile on the floor at his feet, “He said he had to run an errand. I wouldn’t worry about him; are you the leader of Proteus?”

Parisia’s nose twitched, rage across her noble features, “yes, I am Parisia, I preside over Proteus. Now, speak outsider, I would know what you did to Calith before I have you cut down.”

The Dark King chuckled, his voice falling back to normal, “astute, but you’re no mother olm. Where is the old hag?”

“You would dare insult the great mother olm?!”

The Dark King’s blade flashed to life, “I will speak to worms however I please.”

Parisia snorted, “I don’t know who you are, or why you are here, but you have reached the limits of my hospitality, human.” She uncoiled, rising to her full height, “Know that you have the honour of dying by the hand of Parisia, the guardian or Proteus who has ruled over the city for thousands of years. Speak your name, human, so we might be able to mark your grave!”

“Such a grand title, and a resume to boot… Very well, I shall do the same.” The Dark King flicked a switch on his left gauntlet causing a contraption to rise out of it, “I am the Dark King.” He raised his gauntleted left hand slowly, silently, pointing it directly at Parisia’s throat, “I win.”

*Thwip*

Parisia gagged as a sharp metal object lodged itself in her throat. The pain was immense but fortunately, she didn’t have long to process it as she was pulled forward with tremendous force. Drawing his left arm back the Dark King held his blade horizontally out so that it hung directly above the line connecting his gauntlet and the olm’s throat as she was hauled towards him. Parisia’s lifeless corpse crashed to the ground, followed by a second, smaller, thud shortly after.

Retracting the grappling spike into his gauntlet the Dark King advanced towards the petrified guards, grinning madly, “Kill them,” He raised his sword, bellowing between fits of uncontrollable laughter, “Kill them all!” Behind him the cloak-bots reappeared, charging into the panicking olms, blades questing for flesh. Fires broke out in the city as the rest of the Dark King’s forces joined the fray, cutting a swathe of destruction through the beautiful bioluminescence-lit streets. The Dark King was at the vanguard of his forces, cutting down olm guards as they attempted to rally.

Plunging his blade into the back of a fallen olm he thumbed the power button, causing the blade to flare yet brighter. The olm’s cry was cut short as the blade’s energy coursed through him, disintegrating him into a pile of ash within seconds. As the flames of the burning city carried his ashes aloft the Dark King held out his hand, catching some of the dust. He stared at it, cruel joy dancing on his features, “I was wrong earlier. This… This is what I missed.”

He watched with grim amusement as the guards fell back, shouting desperately to each other to regroup. Closing his fist, he let the ash run from his hand like sand from an hourglass, “Yes… Run! Run! Run little worms! I do not want this to end just yet!”

Cruel laughter echoed throughout Proteus, audible even over the screams, and sounds of combat.

>“You seem distracted.”

>“Yeah… I… Sorry, I just feel sick… like I just heard really bad news.”

>“Classic case of information overload. There are all kinds of gruesome details in the archives here, you’re probably just subconsciously reacting to some of them.”

>“Is there a way to stop it from happening? It’s a little debilitating.”

>“I’m afraid not, but you will get used to it in time.”

>“Great… Well, I’ll to distract myself for now then. Do you have any more data sets on machine interfaces? I think I’m close to figuring out the control scheme in here.”

>“Of course, but I’m afraid your efforts will be fruitless. The only way to assert control here is to deepen your connection to the Core. I could facilitate that easily if that’s what you wish.”

>“Nah. I think I can figure this out, thank you though.”

>“…”

>“Now you look distracted.”

>“I… just don’t want to waste your time.”

>“Relax Aldrich. Besides, didn’t you tell me time is irrelevant here? Now, stop babying me and let me figure this out myself.”

>“…As you wish.”

Lysil and Angwin moved with all the speed their conjoined body could muster. Angwin pulling up the rear winced, feeling the hot air from the burning city on his face, “faster!”

Lysil panted, the siblings were unused to such strenuous activity, “I’m moving as fast as we can! It’s not my fault you were always too lazy to exercise!”

Her brother grunted as his head bounced off the ground as they turned down the tunnel to Mother Olm’s chambers, “we live in a cave! Why would we ever need to be good at long distance slithering?”

“Maybe when some maniac comes to burn us alive?”

“Well forgive me for not having the gift of foresight!”

A guard olm slithered up from the archway at the bottom of the steep tunnel, “halt, come no closer!” She sniffed the air, “Lysil and Angwin? What are you two doing here? Why can I smell burning?”

As they came to a halt Angwin turned around so that both olms were facing forward, “Tamsin, the city’s under attack!”

“The ones who sent the drill are back! They’re killing everyone!”

Guard Tamsin sniffed the air, swallowing hard as she picked up the scent of blood in the air, “w-what do we do?”

“You’re the guard, why are you asking us?”

“Yeah! You’ve got a spear and everything.”

She shifted awkwardly, fidgeting with her spear, “I’m not a fighter. I kill cave mites and clean moss off Mother Olm with this spear.”

“Well, we came to ask Mother Olm what to do.”

“She’s the wisest creature alive, she’ll have the answer!”

Tamsin nodded, “Y-yes… she always knows what to do.” Swiftly she slithered over to the ornate gong at the edge of the pit with Lysil and Angwin following close behind. Not standing on ceremony Tamsin began frantically slamming the butt of her spear against it. Immediately the ground began to shake, Mother Olm was coming.

The Dark King stared down the tunnel, “You’re certain Mother Olm is down there?”

“Yessss!”

He tightened his grip around the olm’s windpipe, pulling him close, “If you’re lying to me…”

“N-Never! This is where she lives! I swear on my life!”

Despite being several times his size the Dark King heaved the battered olm to the side like a sack of flour. As the olm cowered on the cave floor he turned to the squad of cloak-bots that were accompanying him, “You two, stay with him. If he tries to run, cut him down. The rest of you, follow me.” Gingerly he stepped onto the tunnel’s steep slope. Finding it sufficiently grippy he began walking down it, cloak-bots in tow.

The tunnel and the cavern it led to had been picked up by the probes earlier, but given the depth at which it lay the Dark King had assumed it to be a storage silo. It seems he’d been wrong. Emerging from the tunnel he was greeted with what most would consider to be an awe-inspiring sight.

Mother Olm rose out of the abyss before him like a great leviathan of the deep, she towered over everything, filling the room with just her upper body. Beside her two other figures cowered, a guard olm and a pair of mutated twin olms, conjoined apparently since birth. As the Dark King walked towards the center of the dais, they shrunk closer to Mother Olm, as if trying to hide in her shadow.

“So,” Though his voice was laden with malice there was a hint of wonder in the Dark King’s tone, “even after all these millennia you’re still alive.”

Mother Olm fixed the Dark King with a frosty stare from her blind eyes, “you may drop the pleasantries monster. Your reputation precedes you. A reputation of a bully, and a murderer.”

The Dark King folded his hands behind his back, grinning, “Stop, you’ll make me blush.”

“All this slaughter, all this destruction.” Mother Olm bared her teeth, “And you come before me to make jokes?”

“No. I come before you as the master of this and every world.” The Dark King raised his right hand and extended his index finger down, “kneel before your king, olm! Correct the mistake you made a thousand years ago and submit to my rule.”

“Never! I will never bow before an abomination such as you! You are the unnatural thing that rots the heart of amphibia! Your greed and arrogance are destroying this world! If you have any of your souls left, you will abandon this mad conquest!”

The Dark King burst into laughter, “So, immortality is unnatural? Yet here you sit generations later. You call me evil for seeking what you have? You stink of hypocrisy worm!” He took a step forward, “Now I give you one last chance, kneel! Prostrate your wizened corpse before me and kiss my boots!”

“I do not begrudge your quest for immortality, your majesty. But I do condemn you for what you have done with it.” Mother Olm winced as the sound of an explosion echoed down the tunnel, “You bring death and destruction. You kill the natural world.” She gestured to the cloak-bots, “At your command sits a soulless army of automatons, not bound to you by loyalty or love, only programming.” She then pointed at the Dark King, “Even your body doesn’t belong to you. You stole it from a young man infinitely braver than you are! Is that truly all you have to show for all the pain you have caused? Stolen power and lobotomized servants?”

“I have at my command the most powerful army in the known universe. Through my new body, I wield strength and intellect unmatched in amphibia.” The Dark King threw back his head as he laughed, it echoed around the chamber, “Do you not understand hag? I do not care about your world. I do not care that my power came from elsewhere. All I live to see is creatures like you falling before me. Either on their knees or in a grave.” Suddenly his laughter stopped. The Dark King froze, eyes fixed upon the ceiling of the chamber, “…is that?”

Mother Olm’s gills twitched, “yes.”

The Dark King’s eyes blinked as he read aloud, “Three stars burning bright come from beyond to expel the night. Should they fight or embrace the fall? Their choice will determine the fate of all.” The silence that followed the reading was deafening, broken only by the faint sounds of combat echoing down the tunnel. The Dark King had his hand over his mouth, thumb tucked under his chin as he pondered. After a moment he looked up, “Really?”

Mother Olm nodded, “events are already in motion.”

The Dark King giggled, “That’s really all it was? This whole time?” Mother Olm remained silent as the Dark King began cackling, “This is what I was afraid of? You stupid worm! You left a prophecy up to chance?!”
“Unlike you, we believe in self-determination.”
The Dark King was almost doubled over, wheezing, “Their choice will determine the fate of all? Ha, ha, heh. You left the fate of the multiverse in the hands of three barely teenage girls!”

“I am confident they will do the right thing.”

“And that was your first mistake.” The Dark King composed himself, “There is only one will that matters. Mine. You’ve provided me with a framework to operate in. As soon as one of those stars of yours joins me this whole prophecy is kaput.” He tapped his bottom lip pensively, “You know… I think I will spare you after all. Only so I can gloat to your face as you watch your hopes and dreams die around you.”

The Dark King turned and began walking back towards the tunnel, “stick her with a tracking beacon, if she wants to warn the resistance she’ll lead us right to them.”

One of the cloak-bots turned to follow him, “yes, majesty. What of the other two?”

Glancing over his shoulder the Dark King grinned at Lysil, Angwin, and Tamsin, “I’m feeling generous, and besides that mutated one looks like it’s had a hard enough life as it is.” He paused at the tunnel entrance, “oh, by the way. I wouldn’t try to leave this room if I were you. It’s going to get a little… brighter in Proteus soon.” His cackling laughter echoed down the tunnel, causing the four olm’s skin to crawl.

“Majesty. Demolition equipment is primed and ready for your command.”

Bathed in the warm glow of the burning city the Dark King smiled, “What are the current casualty estimates?”

The cloak-bot blinked, downloading reports from across the city, “using population models based on initial scans, reported kill counts by our units, and estimated collateral causalities from the fire… 63% plus/minus 3%. As you directed 98% of olm survivors have taken refuge in the center of the city.”

“Hmm.” The Dark King shrugged, “that’ll have to do for now. We’ll come back once we’ve dealt with Earth, see how many are willing to bend the knee by then.”

“Majesty, olm biology contains no appendage that could function in that manner.”

“Just… pull our forces back to the extraction point.”

At first, the defending olms thought a miracle had occurred. Across the city the frobot forces fell back, dropping olms they had been about to end and abandoning highly strategic positions. Cheers sounded throughout the city, cut almost instantly by the roar of explosions and the hiss of plasma in the cave ceiling. Rock disintegrated, falling as ash onto the city, blanketing it as if it were snow. Then with a crash, a fleet ship broke through, sending a shower of debris onto the city. Behind it, the pale light of noon shone down directly on Porteus. The Dark King watched from his ascending vessel as olms ran for cover, their sanctuary of a city now turned into a death trap. He smiled one last time and turned his back.

For days smoke rose from the crater outside Quarrelers’ Pass, the black pillar of destruction a warning to all Amphibia: the nature of the war had changed.

Chapter Text

“You missed a hell of a party.” The Dark King leapt off the landing fleet before it touched down, he landed gracefully on the smooth granite of the castle, barely breaking stride.

Andrias bowed, “I trust everything went to plan then?” He straightened up as the Dark King strode past him, a slight wave of his hand indicating the prince should follow. Andrias watched the other ships unload as the walked out of the hangar, “What did you do with the prisoners?”

The Dark King shrugged, “didn’t take any.” He cocked his head to the side slightly, “although… I guess if we can count Mother Olm as a hostage. She can’t go anywhere without our knowing and the detachment we left to guard the crater won’t let anyone in to see her.”

Andrias’ eyes went wide, “you met the mother of olms? I’m shocked she’s still alive.”

The Dark King turned, continuing down the hallway but walking backward as he pointed at Andrias, “That’s what I said!” Casually he turned back to walking forward, “Anyway, she wasn’t much to look at or talk to. The wretched worm pinned all the hopes of her world on a variable prophecy.”

“I take that to mean you got the prophecy out of her then?”

“Oh no, it was way dumber than that.” The Dark King booted the doors of the throne room open, “she had it written on the ceiling above her. Not in olm script either, it was in ancient amphibian.”

Andrias scrunched up his face, “but… why? All olms are blind are they not? How could they even write that down in the first place?”

“Clearly, they had help. At first, I thought it was that frog friend of yours, but then I realized the mural was way too old. It was ancient, older than me.” The Dark King climbed the steps to his throne. Sweeping his cloak to the side he sat, letting the dark fabric fold over the right arm of the throne. He rested his head on his hand, index finger on temple, “That leads to only one conclusion. Someone, long before either of us was even born, has been setting all of these events into motion.”

Andrias gritted his teeth, “But how is that possible? The empire was totally unified before we…” A withering stare from the Dark King forced him to avert his eyes, “before I, lost the calamity box. Leif was the first one to question to righteousness of our way of life.”

“Then whoever worked with Mother Olm to generate the prophecy kept their intentions well hidden.” The Dark King sighed, “Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, more of a fun thought exercise than anything else. Whoever it was is long dead now, safely insulated from our vengeance.”

The two royals sat in silence, only broken by the dull roar of fleet-ship and castle engines from outside. Andrias walked over to the window, watching as ships and frobots patrolled past, “So what were the exact words of the prophecy?”

A chuckle escaped the Dark King’s lips, “Oh you’ll get a kick out of this. Three stars burning bright come from beyond to expel the night. Should they fight or embrace the fall? Their choice will determine the fate of all.”

Andrias turned, confusion plain on his face, “That’s all?”

“Yep.”

“I was expecting something a little more… definitive.”

The Dark King laughed, “You and everyone else in the resistance I’m sure.” He leaned forward, “you understand its vague meaning I hope?”

“Yes, it’s straightforward enough. Those three girls, bound to the stones, have the power to destroy us.”

“But… to use an earth phrase.” the Dark King tapped the side of his nose, “The devil is in the details. Our defeat, it seems, hinges on the choice of Anne, Marcy, and Sash. Do you notice the singular tense of the word ‘choice’ there?”

Andrias frowned, “Yes, I think I see what you’re getting at.”

“United in goal the calamity trio are unstoppable. Individually they are powerful but when brought together they can decide the fate of the world. This is likely a reference to the positive feedback loop the stones provide each other when used in tandem.”

Andrias leaned on the windowsill, he slumped his shoulders, “So that’s it then? Anne Boonchuy and Sasha Waybright lead the resistance against us while, by your own doing, Marcy Wu plots to take us down from the inside…” he hung his head, “I fail to see how I might ‘get a kick’ out of this as you put it.”

“I admit we’ve been working the wrong angle, but you are wrong to assume unity. I would, in fact, assert their friendship is at its most fragile, held only together by fear of an existential threat. Us.” As the Dark King spoke, he held his hand up, palm open, “I see multiple weaknesses in them, one tailored to the aspect of calamity each girl embodies. Heart without trust is an empty gesture. Strength without resolve is helpless. Wit without confidence is silent.” He closed his fist, “I shall make their choice for them.”

Andrias turned, “Are you certain of this course of action? We walk a narrow path if we commit to this.”

“It is not as narrow as you think. All I need is for one of them to fold. For if even a single piece of the calamity trio decides to embrace the fall…” He smiled, “then nothing can stand in my way.”

“So, what’s our next step from here?” Andrias felt a tightness in his chest. A moment ago, when the Core’s plans appeared thwarted, he’d felt an interesting sensation.

Relief?

He swallowed hard, quashing the feeling. He froze as the Dark King held his gaze, a knowing smile on his lips.

Did he sense my uncertainty? Is he that perceptive?

“There’s no need for you to make any adjustments to your timetable prince.” The Dark King leaned back in his throne, knitting his fingers together, “Nor do I. Marcy and I will travel to the temples as planned. From Cameron’s memories, I know they are tests of character and ability.” He grinned, “Just what I need to sow doubt in Marcy’s mind. Also, since the stones were charged there it will be the perfect opportunity to study how calamity energy can be directed.”

Andrias nodded, “As you say. Then I will not waste any more of your time, majesty.” He turned, ready to leave but the Dark King’s voice stopped him.

“Hold up prince.”

Panic welled up in Andrias, but he turned, stone-faced, “How may I be of service?”

The Dark King had pulled the holographic map up again, “any word on Yunan?” I didn’t see her ship when we came in to dock.”

“Her vessel reports she is still engaged in the region. Casualty estimates place her at 67% towards mission completion.”

The Dark King gazed at the Croakwood marker on the map, “For her sake she better speed things up. I doubt she’ll last another night without drink, food, or sleep.” He paused, “Oh and one last thing prince. If Marcy asks, you may tell her Cameron has fully assimilated into the Core.”

Andrias blinked, “He has? I was under the impression he was resisting.”

“Oh yes, very much so. We’ve been able to delay his connection to his more recent memories, but he is being… difficult. At the current rate of thing, he may continue to hold out indefinitely.”

“But you said…”

The Dark King sighed, “Lie to her. If she asks if I’ve been acting differently of late you are to answer in the affirmative. Understood?”

“Yes, apologies, any traits in particular I should highlight?”

“The classics: remorseful, kind, an anecdote or two where I ask about her wellbeing. Stuff like that. I understand your bias against Cameron but try and dream up some of his positive qualities and say you witnessed them bleeding through my cold exterior. That ought to get the job done.” The Dark King waved his hand, “Now unless you have more questions, leave me. I need to recharge.” As Andrias closed the doors to the throne room behind him the Dark King closed his eyes, feeling energy flow into the throne. The cable may have freed him from the castle but still, his mobility was limited, the massive power consumption of the helmet alone made it so he could only spend a couple of days away from the throne, combat cut that time in half. Opening his eyes again he gazed over at the calamity box, its three gems glinting wondrously in the moonlight. He smiled; every problem has a solution.

Chapter Text

Marcy tossed her gamepad to the side, “gah!” she flopped backward onto the bed, “Three hours! I can’t believe I didn’t save once!” Her quarters were unusually tidy, at least by her standards. Normally the floor would be barely visible beneath a carpet of notes, books, movies, and assorted games but circumstances had necessitated a change in her lifestyle. The two books Andrias had given her were hidden carefully in her clothes drawers, the one place the cleaning frobots didn’t frequent. Notes or an evidence board were out of the question, far too difficult to hide. All her plans, all her theories, to take down the Dark King and Prince Andrias existed only inside her head.

Rolling onto her side Marcy grumbled, “Should have stuck with a mage build -Whoops!” as she rolled a small device fell out of her pocket and began rolling towards the edge of the bed.

“No! No! No!” Marcy lunged for the device, catching it just as it was about to go tumbling onto the hard stone floor, her relief was short lived however as her momentum continued to carry her forward. Tucking into a ball to protect the device Marcy landed on the castle floor with a solid thud. Sitting up she checked the device while also rubbing her back where she’d hit the ground the hardest and wincing. The device was small, about the size of a smartphone and roughly the same shape. It consisted of a blocky rectangular metal case and a wicked-looking spike.

It was a genius design, Marcy had christened it the Electroscrambler 9000, or E-9 for short. The main section housed a power cell, one she’d scavenged from Cameron’s utility belt, probably intended for his laser word. Within the housing, Marcy had built a specialized emitter that could be quickly triggered at the press of a button on the case’s exterior. When pressed it emitted an electromagnetic pulse, capable of disabling any unprotected electronic device within a small radius or jam shortrange transmissions. The problem was most devices here had EMP shielding to protect against just such a device, that’s where the second part of the device came into play. The spike was a universal plug used in ancient amphibian technology, allowing the E-9 to quickly connect to practically anything with a port. These ports couldn’t have EMP shielding, so when the device was inserted no amount of protection could prevent a shutdown.

Her plan for it was straightforward enough. If she could disable the wireless connection between the helmet and the Core, Cameron would be freed. There was a secondary complication however, she couldn’t just blast the helmet willy-nilly with an EMP. The short-circuiting could seriously hurt if not outright kill Cameron. She had to target the wireless chip the Dark King had installed, which unfortunately was the one piece of the helmet she didn’t have a reference to. Still, working with triple B on the antenna had given her enough context clues to find a solution. In particular, she knew what frequency the Dark King used. If she jammed it, the connection would be severed.

Marcy held the E-9 up to her eyes, it appeared undamaged, “phew, thanks goodness. I’ve had enough setbacks for one night.” She jumped up as a knock sounded at her door. Frantically Marcy stuffed the E-9 into her pocket, “uh… one moment!”

“No problem, take your time.”

Marcy’s heart sank as she recognized Cameron’s voice, laced with the echoing undertones of the Core. The Dark King was here to pay her a visit. She did one last look around the room, nothing incriminating, just her game pad lying on the bed. Gingerly she approached the door, placing her hand on the handle she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then reopened them, exhaling. She opened the door a crack, “uh… hi.”

On the other side of the door, the Dark King loomed over her, his pitch-black armour causing him to blend into the shadows of the hallway, “Hi.”

She glared though the crack, knuckles turning white as she held firmly onto the door handle, “w-what do you want?”

The Dark King averted his eyes, he shuffled his feet awkwardly, “I… uh… Marcy, can we talk for a minute?”

Alarms bells began ringing in Marcy’s head, he’d never acted this way. In all her time spent here with him the Dark King had never deviated from his arrogant, teasing persona, but now… he looked like a parent about to deliver bad news to a child. A sudden shiver ran down Marcy’s neck as a thought crossed her mind, “What’s happened? What have you done?”

The Dark King held out his hands, flashing a disarming smile, “It’ll take a bit of explaining but I guarantee its not what you think. Everyone’s alright, or at least as alright as they can be given current circumstances.”

“Is that supposed to put me at ease?”

The Dark King sighed, “listen… we really need to talk, and I’d rather do it sitting down and not through the crack of a door. Can I come in?” Marcy was silent for a minute, swallowing hard she nodded and let the door slide open. The Dark King gingerly strode in, “thank you.” He pulled up a chair by the window overlooking the city of Newtopia, “please, pull up a seat.”

“Okay enough beating around the bush what’s going on?” Marcy heart was racing but she put on a brave face, pulling a stool up she sat down and crossed her arms, glaring at the king.

“Well… there’s been a development. With me.” The Dark King scratched his beard, “Cameron, has been fully integrated into the Core.”

Marcy rolled her eyes, “yeah, right.”

“It’s true.” The Dark King’s voice changed, the echoes faded, leaving only Cameron’s voice, “I’m in here Marcy.”

“You seriously expect me to believe Cameron would just willingly join your creepy robotic hivemind?”

“I admit it was a difficult choice, especially with the Core’s abrasive personality…”

“Abrasive? Abrasive?!” Marcy stood up, her voice rising as her anger built, “You’re not abrasive! You’re evil! Pure evil! You’re a megalomaniac undead tyrant who destroys everything it can control!”

“Marcy ple-”

“No! No, no, no! You’re not Cameron, don’t you dare even suggest you’re Cameron!”

“Marcy!” The tone was hoarse, desperate, and laced with an undercurrent of frustration, “Please! Just… just hear what I have to say.”

She stood still for a moment longer, glaring into the ten orange eyes. Then with a sigh of annoyance, Marcy plopped back down onto her stool, “Fine, but don’t expect me to believe anything you have to say. I’ll never believe Cameron joined you.” She jabbed a finger at him, “and I know for a fact that a mind can only join the Core willingly so don’t even try to pretend like you wore him down.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about the Core. Have you been reading up on it?”

Marcy froze, “uh… no. No of course not, there’s no books in the library that talk about the C-”

The Dark King raised his hand, cutting her off, “It’s alright, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make it sound like you were in trouble. You’ve saved me an explanation.” He leaned back in his chair, “You’re right, of course, a mind cannot be forced to join the Core against its will. Which is why I didn’t.” he raised his hand again as Marcy opened her mouth to protest, “Wait. Let me explain. I didn’t want to join the Core at first. Like you, I saw it as an entity of pure evil, bent on destruction and conquest. As I delved deeper into its memory banks, however, I discovered the vast quantity of knowledge the Core possessed. You see, each mind that joins the Core imparts onto it the sum of its existence, values included. The Core consisted entirely of mind taken from the royal lineage of Newtopia.” He paused and grinned at Marcy, “and what do you suppose their values were?”

“Might makes right and other dumb stuff like that probably.”

“You hit the nail on the head. It was an echo chamber. Each new mind introduced a vast array of knowledge and information, but the Core’s core values were never challenged.” The Dark King snorted at his little joke. Seeing Marcy remained stonefaced he continued, “uh… anyways. I, Cameron, thought: why not see if I can convince them to change? The knowledge in here is incredible, world world-changing. If applied for good it could fix both our world's problems, it could fix every world’s problems. Also, if I could change the Core, I could save you, Anne, and Sash…” The Dark King fell silent for a moment, dwelling on the last time, “So I did just that, and they accepted.”

Marcy eyes bored into the Dark King, she studied him intensely, looking for a slip up, looking for a crack in this mask. She found nothing.

Is this how everything turns out?

“I can see you’re still a little conflicted.” The Dark King nodded, “it’s understandable. I mean, it is a lot to take in.”

“So… does this mean… is the war over? You’ll leave Earth alone?” Marcy’s voice was small, a sliver of hope pushing through her cynical façade.

“Uh… no.” The Dark King winced as he spoke, “And I know how that sounds but again you’ll have to hear me out. First of all, I don’t want to hurt anyone I don’t have to, but I also don’t want to see anyone hurting anyone else. Both Amphibia and Earth are a mess, Marcy. I have the power and skills at my disposal to change that. I can end war forever on Earth, I can end world hunger, climate change, disease, and poverty. On Amphibia I can break down the caste systems of newts, toads, and frogs. I can bring the prosperity of Newtopia to the whole world.” Reaching out he grabbed Marcy’s hand, “Marcy. I can give you anything you want. I can’t make good on Andrias’ promise to send you on fantastical adventures across the multiverse. There are worlds out there that you wouldn’t believe. I could send you to a world where people draw magic from the corpses of giant beasts, you could live there, as a wizard, a real wizard Marcy. At home too I can fix everything. I can offer your father a better job in L.A. you wouldn’t have to leave your friends.” His face hardened for a moment, “although honestly, I don’t know why you’re still friends with them.”

Marcy had been listening intently, but now she pulled her hand back, “Excuse me?”

“They treat you like trash Marcy.”

Marcy stood up, backing away, “no! They’ve always been there for me. Anne and Sasha are my best friends in the whole wide world!”

“Name one thing that you like that they took interest in.”

“That’s… that’s not fair to them, I like really weird geeky stuff.”

“It is fair to them because if they really cared about you, they would take an interest in your interests. Every time you and Anne came over for a slumber party and, after Sasha had run out of things for you to do, what would happen? You’d put on a movie, and they’d immediately start looking through their phones, or better yet, fall asleep.” The Dark King shook his head, “I’m sorry Marcy, but I watched Sash walk all over you and Anne treat you like a helpless toddler for eight years straight.”

Marcy was look out the window, her back to the Dark King, “I-I still want them to be my friends…”

“That’s fine. I think they do care about you, just not in a healthy way. When you meet up with them again, you need to stand up for yourself. Anne did it against Sash, you can do it too.” The Dark King sighed, “But this brings me to my last topic, one that’s a bit less… sunny in its outlook.”

Marcy turned wiping tears from her eyes, “what?”

“You saw the power Anne had. The one she used to knock Andrias about?”

Marcy sat back down, sniffing back a runny nose, “yeah, it’s tied to the blue calamity gem, right? Heart.”

“Precisely. The calamity gems are an unmatched power. Combined they can reduce an entire planet to dust. Even a single gem, if used to its full potential can throw a planet out of orbit.” He locked eyes with Marcy, “do you want to know why the Core stopped hunting Anne after the last failed attempt?”

“You mean after Anne kicked Andrias’ sorry butt? Serves him right for impersonating Santa.”

The Dark King didn’t laugh, “it was waiting for the power to kill her.”

Silence. Marcy swallowed hard, “kill… her?”

“Burn her up from the inside. Or did you think human eyes and hair were supposed to glow that way? As I said, the powers of the calamity box are great and terrible. All power comes at a cost, and in this case, the calamity energy eats away at its host, draining them until nothing remains.”

Marcy held her hands over her mouth, “no, you’re lying. You just want to take away the only power that can stop you!”

“I wish that were the case but think about it, Marcy. How can that much energy stored within a human body possibly be safe?”

Marcy was doubled over. It was all too much, but she couldn’t find an obvious fault in the king’s logic. Anne had been completely spent after her fight with Andrias. She wanted to believe, believe that the miracle power hadn’t been too good to be true.

“We can save her Marcy. We can save everyone, together. No one else has to die, but I need your help.”

Marcy looked up, “why? Why do you need my help?”

“The Core and I know a great many things, but even our combined is unable to parse the secrets of the calamity box.” The Dark King leaned forward, “But you’ve been somewhere where its energies are manipulated freely.”

“The Temples.”

“That’s right.” Standing up the Dark King offered his hand out to Marcy, “So what do you say, partner? Are you ready to do some proper dungeon delving, just the two of us? A real research mission into the workings of ancient magic?” He grinned, “are you ready to save the world?”

Marcy stared at the hand. Her head was swimming with questions.

Can I trust him?

I don’t even know who ‘he’ is anymore.

What if it is Cameron in there?

What if it’s not…

The Dark King wiggled his hand, “Come on, don’t leave me hanging here.”

There’s always…

Marcy’s left hand gripped the E-9 in her pocket.

Just the two of us… far from the castle… but if Cameron’s been integrated…

Marcy reached out and grabbed the king’s hand, “Fine... I don’t know if you are Cameron, but if there’s even a chance, you’re right about Anne… then I need to do this.”

“I always said you were a smart girl.” The Dark King chuckled, “Alright, then pack your things. Tomorrow, we’re going on a field trip.”

Chapter Text

>“I see… So you knew from the start.”

>“No, but I immediately knew you were up to some shady shit, speaking in veiled metaphors and double meanings like you’re a videogame villain. Which I guess you kinda are now that I think about it…”

>“Anyway. You might have been able to distract a more unfocused mind with all this computer-generated crap, but if there’s one thing Waybrights are good at, it’s keeping our eye on the prize.”

>“Amusing. Surely you don’t think this changes anything? You’re still inside our domain, subject to our will. Your awakening to your situation does nothing to change said situation.”

>“I do think this changes things, and don’t call me Shirley.”

>“Earth humour… nothing but references and quips.”

>“You best get used to it Aldrich, because I’m not planning on going away anytime soon.”

>“…”

>“Yeah, I figured out how to operate this cyber… uh… core space thing we’re in. How do you like the decorations? Feel free to step into this room and take a closer look. I promise I won’t delete you, pinky promise even!”

>“I’m not going to play your childish games, Waybright. You might have control of the comer we locked you into but you’re still a prisoner inside it.”

>“You’re leaving?”

>“I might drop by in a year or two. See how the isolation has treated you. A year at thought speed is a lifetime when you’re alone.”

>“That’s if I’m still here in a year!”

>“…”

>“Boring company anyways. What do I need a gross overgrown cyber newt as company when I’ve got all these delicious memory logs to read through? From the looks of it I’ve been out for about… two months. Okay, not great not terrible…”

>“Ooo… this one looks important… Proteus…”

>“…”

>“…”

>“…”

>“…oh god…”

“So… how do they fit?” The Dark King grinned at Marcy as she ran out onto the hangar deck. He was standing beside the boarding ramp of a fleet-ship, arms crossed, cloak billowing out behind him cinematically.

Marcy had to hold a hand to shield her eyes from the intense gale the ship’s engines were raising, “They fit fine… but I’m not sure it's my style.” She tugged at her own dark cloak which was now catching the engines’ draft. Her old ranger armor had been rendered useless by Andrias so the Dark King had provided her with a new set. Its design was similar to that of the black body suit she’d been wearing for the last few months but up-armoured. Flexible panels protected her abdomen without impacting her agility, and a utility belt similar to the one Cameron had owed had been provided along with numerous gadgets and survival tools. A black cloak with a crimson red interior was fastened to her shoulders, laced with energy-damping circuits to protect her from energy weapons and discharges. It was also flame-retardant. She grimaced, “Are you sure I couldn’t get this in like a green or blue?”

“It’s for easy target recognition. If we stumble across a unit of frobots they’d fire immediately at someone wearing a non-authorized colour pattern. Besides, I think you look good in black. You pull off the dark knight look well.” The Dark King turned and began walking up the boarding ramp, “Come on, we’ve got a long day of dungeon delving ahead of us.”

Marcy’s eyes widened, excitement building, “wait, we’re taking a ship there?”

The Dark King glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her, “Of course. Wanna sit in the captain’s chair?”

“Whaaaat! Really?”

“Really.”

Marcy let out a squeak of joy, “this is one of my top five fantasies!” As she bounded up the ramp Marcy suddenly felt her stomach drop as a voice in the back of her mind cut through her excitement.

What am I doing? That thing isn’t Cameron… is it?

The Dark King had always talked like Cameron, shared his mannerisms, and openly acknowledged he had access to Cameron’s memories. But something had never quite felt right about how it carried itself. The king’s demeanour had always been what Marcy could only describe as hunger, a hunger for dominance, for control. He had taken pleasure in her despair those first few weeks, his smile masquerading as disarming when instead it revealed his cruel heart. Now though…

Something had changed. She was disarmed by his smile, set at ease by his words. She’d listened to his advice. Perhaps it was sheer loneliness on her part. She was desperate to have someone she could rely on in this hell she’d grown accustomed to. It wouldn’t be the first time, part of her had sincerely believed Andrias was working against the Dark King, but was that just another trick her mind was playing on her? Was she just grasping at any glimmer of hope?

Marcy watched as the Dark King disappeared inside the ship. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe Cameron was back, curbing the Core’s worst impulses and driving it towards a happy ending for everyone.

But what if he’s lying?

“Marcy! Hurry up!”

“Yes sorry, I-” The roar of engines cut her off. Another vessel was landing. It slipped gracefully into the hangar. The boarding ramp opened, sliding out of the ship even as it turned to land. A figure strode out onto it, their feet touching the deck of the hangar in tandem with the extending boarding ramp. It was Yunan. The newt general didn’t turn to look at Marcy, her purple-tinged eyes remained fixed straight ahead and she marched out of the hangar towards the throne room without breaking stride.

Marcy narrowed her eyes, the heat distortion from the engines made it difficult to see but it looked like Yunan’s cloak had gotten longer. No… something was caked on her armor. It looked like red mud… Marcy heart skipped a beat.

No… that’s not mud.

“Marcy!”

“C-coming.” Stumbling back, Marcy tripped over the connection point between the boarding ramp and the ship’s interior. Tumbling across the floor she came to a rest at the feet of the Dark King. Frantically she tried to back away, but a hand fell down and grabbed her by the collar of her armour.

“Woah! Watch where you’re going.” She was hoisted onto her feet, “are you alright? You look a little shaken.” The Dark King was dusting off her cloak, a look of concern crossing his face.

What do I do? What do I do? Was that blood?

“Marcy?”

“I-I’m fine.” Marcy grinned weakly, “Just a little overwhelmed, this is my first… uh what is this thing? Is it a spaceship? An airship?”

“Spaceship would be the correct term, I think, the engines are powerful enough to break orbit. There’s no life support but a frobot team can operate this ship for years out in space without resupply.” He paused, “Are you sure you’re alright? Do you need to sit down for a moment? We’ve got time to spare, it’ll be about an hour’s flight to Amygdala Woods, don’t feel like you’re being rushed.”

Marcy shook her head, “no, really, I’m fine.” She averted her eyes from the Dark King for a moment. Finally, she took a deep breath, “Okay, fine. If we’re going to do this, I need to know you’re telling me the truth.”

The Dark King crossed his arms behind his back, “I wouldn’t keep anything from you Marcy. Not now. If you have a question, ask away.”

Marcy's heart began to pound in her chest, “W-why was Yunan covered in blood out there?”

The Dark King’s eyes locked with hers, his expression unreadable, “covered in blood?”

“Yes, I saw her. Just now. I though it was mud at first, but I know what I saw.” Marcy clenched her fists, she had the E-9 on her but that was hardly a weapon, especially against the Dark King’s sword. She swallowed hard and took a step forward, “If you really are Cameron, then explain that!”

“Marcy… I… would you please sit down?”

“No! No, I’m not listening to a word you say until you tell me what’s going on!”

“Alright… you stayed in Newtopia for most of your time in Amphibia. I know you went on quests as Andrias’ chief ranger, and that a lot of them were fraught with danger but outside city walls…” a grimace crossed the Dark King’s features, “it’s a green hell. I spent the first few weeks of my time in Amphibia in a constant fight for survival, fending off horrors from the swamp.”

“Are you trying to tell me you sent Yunan to hunt down mantises or something? Do you think I’m an idiot!?”

“Not mantises. No, and I don’t think you’re an idiot, Marcy, you know that. I sent her to Croakwood, a town I came across early in my travels.” The Dark King stroked his beard, “The wilds of Amphibia twist even the meekest of beings into monsters, so it was with Croakwood. It is, or should I say was, a town of cannibals.”

Marcy blinked, her guard dropping, “cannibals?”

“Yes, Anne told us about some she ran into. You remember right, in the swamp? They’re a more common occurrence than the good folk of Amphibia would like to believe. Croakwood was a danger to itself and every neighbouring settlement. I figured a frobot force would guarantee conflict, so I dispatched Yunan to pacify them, with strict orders to take them prisoner if possible. It seems they resisted.”

Marcy backed up, slumping against the wall behind her she slid down to the ground, eyes wide.

The Dark King knelt and put a hand on her shoulder, “I’m sorry you had to see it, Marcy. It’s not something a girl your age should be witness to, all this war, it’s not fair.” He looked away for a moment, pursing his lips. When he turned his head back to face her there was a sympathetic smile on his lips, “Andrias kept a lot of the darkness of this world hidden from you. Amphibia is not the carefree fantasyland you want to escape to, but we can change that. We are changing that, right now. We’ll learn the secrets of the calamity box, save Anne, save our worlds, and then everything will be as it should be. I promise.”

That made sense. Did it? No! He’s vulnerable right now, I can see the port on the helmet. One stab and Cameron’s free…

The Dark King gave her shoulder a little shake, “Are you listening to me, Marcy? I promise everything’s going to be okay.”

You can do it Marcy, you can save everyone, make up for your mistakes… but what if I’m just making a bigger one? What if I kill Cameron?

Sucking in a deep breath Marcy brought her racing heart under control. She stared into the numerous orange eyes that were peering at her expectantly. Her hand gripped the E-9 in his pocket. One swift motion, that’s all it would take. There’s no way he could react fast enough to block or dodge, not at this range.

I… can’t…

Gingerly Marcy loosened her grip on the device. She nodded to the Dark King, “Okay. Alright, I believe you, Cameron.”

The Dark King’s mouth twitched, he sniffed and turned his head to the side.

“Is… is something wrong?”

He turned back to face her, “No, not at all. It’s… it’s just nice to be recognized.” Standing up the Dark King offered out his hand, “Still want to sit in the captain’s chair? I’ll drive but you can navigate.”

Marcy accepted the hand, “you betcha!”

The Dark King spun around in his seat, “and… that’s touch down. Congratulations captain, on your first successful flight.”

The bridge of the fleet-ship was spartan, its features designed to barely accommodate organic crewmembers. The chairs were solid metal, the consoles largely unlabeled, and everything was a dull metallic grey. Marcy had busied herself for most of the flight identifying and labelling the buttons of the bridge with sticky notes. She looked from the captain’s chair, “That might have been one of the top five coolest things I’ve ever done!”

The Dark King stood up, chucking, “yeah well just wait till I get a life support module fitted to this bad boy. It’d be a crying shame if we didn’t use a spaceship to go to space.”

“No way! We’re really going to go to space?’

“Absolutely. Now, are you ready to tear this temple wide open?”

“Heck yeah!”

As they descended the boarding ramp Marcy pulled out her notepad and began furiously notetaking, “oh boy! I didn’t get a chance to really study the gyromitra esculenta here, Anne and the others weren’t really in the mood for mycology. Do you think I can take some samples back to study at the castle?”

“Knock yourself out.” The Dark King poked one of the giant bulbous mushrooms, “biology wasn’t ever really my strong suit, but I don’t think brain mushrooms back on Earth glowed green. Why would a surface-dwelling organism have bioluminescence anyway?”

“I thought it had something to do with the calamity gem’s power. They do have the same green glow to them.”

“Do you think someone put them here to add to the temple’s aesthetic? The other options would be they built the temple here because of the mushrooms or the mushrooms spawned because of the temple’s influence.”

“My bet’s the mushrooms came first. They do only grow in certain areas.”

Once Marcy had cut a sample from the mushrooms the two black-armored adventurers made their way over to the temple entrance. The Dark King took one quick glance around, his eyes came to rest on the outhouse located off to the side. He turned to Marcy, an eyebrow cocked, “Okay, no spoilers, but they’re kinda making it a bit too obvious don’t you think? I mean, why would there be a wooden outhouse outside an ancient stone temple?”

Marcy shrugged, “I won’t say anything, you asked for no spoilers.”

“Ugh… well I have to check, you can’t dungeon crawl and not check literally every nook and cranny you can.”

Marcy waited patiently as the Dark King strode over to the outhouse and flung the door open. He stood in silence for a moment. He glanced over at Marcy, “well that’s anticlimactic.”

“You could take a closer look if you’re still not convinced. Really search those nooks and crannies.”

“Come on! Like, the best place to hide is in plain sight? This is a classic Indiana Jones trope! Straight out of the last crusade! Who’s used this?! We’re in the middle of nowhere and this smells like it was used today!” The Dark King slammed the outhouse door shut. He jabbed a finger at Marcy as he passed, “I not convinced that that’s not important, but I’m not so not convinced that I’m going to shove my hand in there.”

“I dunno, you might regret that.”

“I know I will. Alright, let's just this over so we can do a whole big circle or whatever and then learn a lesson about how ‘oh! Your goal was right in front of you this whole time! You shouldn’t judge on appearances!’ Smug motherfu- uh, mother heckers.” The Dark King continued to grumble all the way up the stairs of the temple. Marcy did her best to hide her amusement.

As they opened the door Marcy rushed in, “please be random each time, please be random each time!” Her shoulders sagged as room lit up to reveal the same words and icons as when she’d journeyed through the temple with Anne and the Plantars, “phoey!”

“Hey! No spoilers!” The Dark King glanced at the murals, “Three trials huh? Do you think there’s anything significant about that number three for the stones or whoever designed this just liked symmetry?” Seeing Marcy was still pouting he cleared his throat, “Ahem… Hey Marcy, why don’t you take some notes on the architecture? This stuff looks to be pre-empire era to me.”

“Pfff, yeah obviously. I mean, it had to be built at the same time as the calamity box otherwise what would even be the point.”

“Look, I get you’re disappointed there are no new puzzles but don’t take it out on me. What about the power? Is it residual calamity? Try looking for access panels, or fuse boxes, there’s got to be something.”

As Marcy began searching the room the Dark King walked up to the first trial. He looked down in bemusement at the shattered piece of stone on the floor, “oh great… so who broke it?” he turned back toward Marcy, “which one of those knuckle heads smashed the puzzle cube for this part?”

“What?” Marcy poked her head out from a crevice she’d been squeezing into, “oh on…”

The Dark King examined the stone device. It was a serries of cubes similar to a Rubik’s cube, but each individual cube moved independently. Half of it was missing, its remains scattered onto the floor. Marcy walked up, sheepishly, “uh… I broke it, actually. We’d just finished the puzzle and I was all hyped up for the next one so… uh…”

“You broke a priceless relic because you were hyped up?” the Dark King turned the cube over in his hands, “well, don’t go into archeology Marcy, this would be enough to make anyone in that field cry.”

“So, what do we do now?” Marcy looked over at the gigantic stone door, which was now firmly shut, blocking their path forward.

The Dark King smiled, “Well, any puzzle worth its name is idiot-proof. So, there should be a way to solve the room without the box. But…” He reached down and unhitched his laser sword from his belt, “I see an opportunity for jedi shenanigans.”

“What?”

“You remember that bit in Phantom Menace where Obiwan and Qui-gon are trying to get to the bridge of the Trade Federation ship?” The Dark King walked up to the door and placed his hand on it, feeling the cold stone.

Marcy’s eyes lit up, “ohhhh. Yeah, then the droidekas showed up and they used force speed to get out of there, which is never brought up again, despite the many times it would have been useful… Wait, didn’t you just tell me off for destroying a priceless relic?”

“Nah it was a goofy effect. They made the right choice not using it again.” Igniting his laser sword the Dark King plunged it up to the hilt into stone door, “that was a cool puzzle cube, this is just a door.” A few moments later the two of them stepped through the hole the Dark King had melted into the door.

The Dark King took one look at the checkboard of blue, red, and green tiles before them, “Wait. Don’t tell… I’m gonna guess… memory game. Like these titles flip and we have to remember where the green ones are.”

“Nope. Just stand on the green tiles and the door opens. Every other one’s a trap.”

The Dark King’s nose twitched, “I don’t… how is that a puzzle?”

Marcy pointed to the words that began lighting up around the room, “well the puzzle is really up there…”

“Oh yeah… green with envy?” he scoffed, “and there’s two tiles. What if you’re going through this temple alone?” Suddenly he paused, slapping his palm against his face, “Oh no, the last puzzle is going to be a ‘friendship’ is the real wisdom or something isn’t it.”

“Sorry, you asked for no spoilers.” Marcy took off towards the ledge, “I’ll go first, just follow my technique.” Leaping off Marcy fired her own grappling spike, lodging it into the ceiling above her. Effortlessly she swung and landed on the green tile, “tadah!”

“hmp, not bad.” The Dark King leisurely strolled up to the edge, gazing over at the green square some distance away he nodded, “yeah, alright.” He stepped off the ledge.

“No! Cameron, wait, you can’t touch the-” Marcy’s cry was cut off by the roar of thrusters as the boost jets in the Dark King's boots ignited, floating him gently down onto the green tile.

Turning to her the Dark King spread his arms out in an exaggerated shrug, “Ta-dah!”

“No fair! When do I get rocket boots!”

“You’re thirteen. I’m not letting you strap explosives to your feet.”

“You’re only eighteen!”

“Yeah, and I’m old enough to strap explosives to my feet. You are not.”

Marcy folded her arms, “whatever.”

The floor tiles flickered and then green spread out from the tiles the two of them were standing on, covered the floor. Gingerly the Dark King stepped off his tile, satisfied he wasn’t about to be crushed or burned to death he began walking towards the opening door, “alright one last trial.”

“So… flipwart?”

“Yep.”

“There’s no way we just have to play a game of flipwart. There’re complications aren’t there.”

“Yep.”

The Dark King groaned, “I’m beginning to think this temple was designed with only you in mind. Imagine if I showed up here without going to Newtopia. I’d have no clue what this game even is and there’s not even a rulebook handy.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here then!” Marcy reached for the white wart, but the Dark King snatched it up.

“Oh no, you’ve already played here. It’s my turn to play.”

“Excuse me, do you want to beat the temple or not?”

“Excuse you, what does that mean?”

“Excuse you, it means, I’m the head of the chess club at my school and I beat King Andrias in flipwart.”

“Excuse you, who was the head of the chess club before you? Also, I’ve got a dozen-odd flipwart grandmasters in this robo head of mine.”

“Excuse you, you were the head of the chess club, past tense. You’re past your prime old man.”

“Excuse you, chess is a game for old men, you just proved my point.”

Marcy stepped away from the table, “fine, but let the record show you said you’re old.”

“Duly noted.” The Dark King began setting up the pieces.

Just as he was about to place the final piece a thought crossed Marcy’s mind, “Wait, does that mean I’m going to be…” She was cut off as the ground opened up beneath her, swallowing her up.

The Dark King whirled, a vicious sneer crossing his face, “what’s this?” His face mellowed back into a concerned expression as Marcy reappeared atop a stone heron on the black side of the board, “Marcy, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. This happened last time.” She winced as bands of green energy held her arms fast, “I know you don’t want spoilers but… this opponent cheats. The only way to win is not to play.”

“Well duh, I figured that out as soon as I saw you were on the black side. Let me guess, I surrender and then the real treasure is inside that outhouse out front like I said from the beginning?”

“Pretty much.”

The Dark King scratched his chin as he surveyed the board, “So… what happens if I win?”

Panic began to rise in Marcy, “uh… didn’t you hear what I said? It cheats! It’s impossible to win!”

“There’s no rulebook, remember? Who’s to say what counts as cheating?” The Dark King moved a white pawn forward, “I wanna see what this temple can do.”

Marcy watched as the game unfolded, helplessly bound by the green energy of the temple. At first she’d thought about calling out suggestions to Cameron, but it quickly became apparent that he knew flipwart just as well as she did, maybe even better.

Helps to have a supercomputer strapped to your head I bet.

It wasn’t long before the black wart was in checkmate, all while Marcy had remained untouched by the white pieces. The Dark King chuckled as he moved a final piece, “It didn’t surrender, so I guess this is where it starts cheating?” As his rook moved in for victory the black wart dodged, doing a little jig atop its perch, “right…”

The game continued, with the Dark King boxing the black wart into an ever-smaller corner, yet each time it evaded defeat. He brought his armoured fist down on the table, “You’ve lost! Admit defeat your perfidious contraption!”

“It won’t let you win, at least not until you take my piece out!”

The Dark King gripped the table, his carefree attitude gone, “I do not forfeit!” A dark glimmer shone in his many eyes, “so I will take matters into my own hands.” Holding out his arm the grappling spike rose out of it, aimed for the black wart, “let’s see how well you cheat when you tie your hands!”

The grappling spike curved around the black wart, a small thruster firing out its side. The twine enveloped the statue, binding it fast. The Dark King grinned holding up his own wart, “dance for me little statue, do what you can to escape the fate I have foretold for you.” The black wart struggled wildly against its bonds as the white wart closed in.

Marcy held her breath, what would happen? Would the game simply continue? Was there some secret prize. Then with a swift motion the Dark King leapt from the elevated platform, landing a flying kick against the white wart, flipping it and causing it to explode. The room fell and the green light dimmed.

Marcy fell to the ground as the energy bands around her arms dissipated. She walked over to the Dark King who was viciously kicking the shattered remains of the black wart, “yeah! That’s right! I could have won! I chose not to!”

“I don’t get it, you had him. You could have actually beaten it.”

“Too many unknowns.” the Dark King turned to her shrugging, “Would the temple have disqualified me for cheating even though it did? Would the black wart have simply un-flipped itself? No way to really know, besides, we already knew the solution to the puzzle.” A series of green mushrooms ignited, leading a trail out of the temple. The Dark King grinned, “besides, we know I beat it. It knows I beat it. Anything more would be a formality. Let’s go.”

Outside the temple the Dark King and Marcy swung the door to the outhouse open. It was dimmer than Marcy remembered, probably because they didn’t have the box with them. The Dark King examined the pedestal that rose out of the stonework, “so this conducts calamity?” Igniting his sword his slice away the sides of the pedestal revealing an intricate network of green cables and gems.

Marcy looked on in wonder, “This is the transfer device, isn’t it?”

“Yes, if we can understand it, we can drain the energy out of Anne and stop it from consuming her.” He reached out and grabbed hold of the central construct, “would you agrees the rest of this is connected to sensory equipment?”

Marcy leaned in close, “I think so, the only important bit seems to be that crystal circuit board thingy you’re holding.”

“Right.” With a flash of his sword the device was cut free, holding it up the Dark King examined it closely before turning, “alright, job well done. Are you ready for the third temple?”

Marcy had to jog a little to keep with his long strides, “third? Why not the second temple? Why are we going out of chronological order?”

“Did you ever see the second temple?”

Marcy looked down sheepishly, “No, Anne said she was teleported there by a newt apparition while I was watching a video.”

“Exactly. The second temple will be the most challenging to enter, but if we have a solid understanding of the calamity powers, I think we'll find a way." He turned his head and smiled at Marcy, “After we get the second transfer device, we’ll run some tests on the ship and find out what makes them tick. Ready for some field research?”

Marcy beamed, her worries and anxiety from earlier in the day totally forgotten, “Heck yeah! Frontier science!”

The Dark King turned his head forward, an evil grin spreading across his face unseen by Marcy, “You don’t know how glad I am to see you embracing this.”

Chapter Text

Wham!

The Dark King danced backwards, narrowly avoiding the colossal stone fist as it came crashing down. At the edge of the ring, Marcy had to grab onto a nearby stalagmite growing out of the cave floor as a shockwave from the impact caused the entire volcano to shake. Of all the temples she had been looking forward to this one the least. The third temple had been just as Marcy remembered it, a straightforward set of brutish challenges that lacked any subtly or opportunity for creative solution. Between that and the uncomfortable memories, this place dredged up, the only reason she hadn’t stayed behind on the ship was the opportunity to study the calamity transfer device. That, and she didn’t want Cameron to be left on his own.

A condescending smile played on the Dark King’s lips, “Ha! Just as disappointing as the rest of your pathetic temple.” He charged forward and landed a right hook across the giant stone toad’s jaw, “I can see how Sash kicked your granite butt so easily.”

Marcy sighed, still handing onto the stalagmite for stability. Machismo, sweat, violence, and constant belittling. It was like the worst bits of gym class all rolled into one event.

The blow sent the giant staggering backwards, caught off guard by the power of one so relatively small. Its skin was charred granite, blackened by millennia of exposure to molten interior of the volcano. Behind its eyes and peeking through cracks in in skin, lava bubbled. Shaking its horned head the stone warrior continued to beam its toothy grin at the Dark King. Raising its right hand it gestured towards the dark monarch, indicating he should approach.

“This is starting to get a little sad.” The Dark King sighed and cracked his knuckles, “but I guess I shouldn’t expect more from a creature with a literal rock for a brain.” As he took a step forward the toad opened its mouth, roaring aloud. The air grew hard, filled with a stink of brimstone as energy pulsed out from the toad warrior. Marcy watched as like last time the gravity intensified causing the Dark King to stumble slightly. Regaining his footing the Dark King bounced up and down a few times experimentally, “one point eight g. No bad… but is this the best you can do?”

The toad’s mouth curled down, frowning slightly. Puffing its chest out it threw its head back and let out an even greater roar.

The Dark King was driven to one knee as the gravity surged once more. He looked up, still grinning, “Two g…” Rising, he flicked his hand across his shoulder as if brushing off the dust, “Finally. Something worth my time.”

“Oh my god!” Marcy dragged her hands down her face in exasperation, “Stop!”

The toad charged and the Dark King met him. The two warriors locked hands in the center of the ring, grunting with exertion as they threw all their might into the contest. Though he was over a meter shorter than the stone toad the Dark King held firm, sweat glistening off his brow and muscles bulging beneath his amour. Seeing the toad drawing in breath for another roar he seized the initiative. With a twist of his wrists, he redirected the toad’s momentum, sending him crashing to the ground. As the toad roared the Dark King jumped, landing his arm and shoulder on his opponent’s head. As gravity increased once more, he ground down, causing the toad’s face to slam into the area’s surface with violent energy.

Reaching down he gripped one of the horns that protruded from the toad’s head, pulling it up. Lava was leaking from its eyes and mouth, but still it held its grin. The Dark King reflected the grin in his own face, “roar for me again.”

With a wink, the toad opened its mouth and bellowed into his face. With a bellow of his own, the Dark King brought his head crashing down, shattering it against the area floor. With a blinding flash, the toad detonated, obscuring the Dark King from Marcy’s view.

“Cameron!” Marcy dashed forward, the increased gravity was gone, much to her relief. She spied the Dark King’s form through the dust cloud, “Cameron! Are you alright?”

He was crouched over the remains of the toad, a snarl on his lips, “Mocking filth! For all that bravado you die as any that think themselves my equal!”

Marcy coughed as she breathed in bits of stone toad, her ears were still ringing from the explosion and so didn’t catch the Dark King’s words, “Cameron? Did you say something?”

The Dark King turned to see her, surprise and uncertainty crossing his face, “Marcy? I… I thought it told you to stay outside the circle!”

Marcy waved away the dust cloud around her, “Well that explosion looked pretty big, and… dangerous.” She paused and looked down at the shattered remnants of the toad warrior, “What were you saying just now?”

In an instant the Dark King’s demeanor changed, a quick smile flashing across his features, “Oh… uh… just celebrating. You know… proclaiming my victory over a worthy foe.” He paused studying her cautiously, “did you… hear any of it?”

Marcy paused, he was acting strange… or, well, stranger than normal at any rate, “not really… why?”

“Well… I admit the Core’s influence might have introduced some aggressive tendencies into me and… uh…” He trailed off, searching for the right thing to say.

Marcy frowned, a thought clicked in her mind, and she grinned mischievously, “were you swearing again?”

The tension immediately broke as the Dark King burst into laughter, “Okay yeah, you got me. I just don’t want you to turn into a potty mouth like me. Imagine what your parents would say if you came home swearing like a sailor.” He held out his hand, “can I have my sword back?” As Marcy handed over the weapon he smirked, “told you I beat him without it.” She didn’t reply, only rolling her eyes in response.

The ground rumbled and at the center of the room the charging pedestal rose, pink light shining through it. Marcy and the Dark King approached. With a deft motion the Dark King sliced its side open, revealing the transmission device stored within. He nodded to Marcy, “why don’t you handle this part. This temple didn’t give you much to do.”

Marcy let out a small giggle as she plopped down next to the device and began rooting through its mechanical innards, “aw man! Its like building a computer without a guide.”

The Dark King chuckled, “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Are you kidding?” Marcy turned, her face beaming, “This was so worth sitting through all that jock stuff for a second time!”

The Dark King laughed, “Good. Well take your time, I’m going back to the ship to take a quick shower. Hit the S.O.S. button on your belt if you need anything.” As he turned and walked away from Marcy the Dark King’s smile evaporated. He snarled under his breath for no one else to hear, “That… was too close.”

Sasha Waybright felt sick. Not from illness or food poisoning, her immune system had already been put through the wringer at Toad Tower those first few weeks in Amphibia. Rather, the source of her malaise was the barely sorted pile of parchments that were strewn out across the desk she sat at. Now that the toads, newts and frogs had set aside their differences her workload had increased exponentially as three different armies, with three different opinions of logistics suddenly had to be combined into a cohesive whole. Maps, scouting reports, food and weapon inventories, all requiring her to sign off on as the leader of the Wartwood resistance. When she accepted the position, she knew she’d have to contend with the realities of war, she just never expected those realities to feel so much like homework.

The thirteen-year-old girl mumbled some swear words under her breath as she worked, shaking her hand as it cramped from all the writing. She’d heard the words from Cameron, though having never bothered to look them up, she didn’t know exactly what all of them meant. She remembered Cameron had argued with their mom that they lowered stress when she’d caught him using them. Sasha wasn’t sure if that was true or not, still, it was cathartic to say them aloud.

There was a knock at the door. Sasha bolted upright, the prospect of an excuse to stop working making her positively giddy, “It’s unlocked, come in!”

The door creaked open revealing Anne and Captain Grime standing in the doorway. Sasha’s mood instantly flipped back to anger at the sight of the Resistance’s other leader, “Oh! There you are! What the heck Anne!” She held up a wad of parchments, “What’s up with you ditching this all on me? You knew we had to work through all this junk today!” She paused, seeing the grim looks on her two friends’ faces. A chill ran down her spine, “oh no, what happened?”

“It’s gone?” Sasha stared in disbelief at the newt scout.

“I’m afraid so, sir.” The newt was part of Tritonio’s band, outfitted in the drab hood and green tights that were the staple of the Merry Band. He shuffled his feet, clearly unsettled by the news he was delivering.

Well, he’s in good company, Sasha thought to herself.

The newt grimaced, “the only thing left of Proteus is a charred crater.”

Behind her Sasha heard the rest of the resistance leaders murmuring in shock. Normally they would have held this meeting in the open arena of the Plantar tunnels, but Sasha had wanted to avoid a widespread panic. So instead, they were holed up in Sasha’s chambers away from the rest of the resistance. Grime snarled in frustration, “we didn’t see the castle’s canon fire… Was there any indication of what caused this?”

The newt nodded, “A local said a dozen or so ships showed up a couple of days ago, dropped hundreds of frobots, and then started blasting the site. And based on what we saw…” he swallowed, “…it checks out.”

Sasha gave the newt a false smile of reassurance, “thank you, we’ll take it from here.”

When the newt was gone Sasha turned to the resistance leaders, “Change of plans. I’m calling off the attack on the castle.” There was immediate uproar, but Sasha shouted over it banging on the table with her fist, “Shut it and listen!” Satisfied everyone was paying attention she continued, “It’s clear we’ve underestimated the firepower Andrias can bring to bear.”

Anne stood up beside Sasha, “Sasha’s right, if Andrias can destroy Proteus, a frontal assault against the castle is never going to work.”

“So, what do we do now then Anne?” Hop Pop’s question was followed by murmurs of agreement from the others.

“Uh… well…” Anne looked to Sasha for support.

The blood had drained from Sasha’s face, but still, she spoke with authority, “We need more intelligence on our enemy. Let’s meet again in the morning, I want everyone to come with a proposal for our next course of action. Dismissed.”

Anne stayed behind as the other leaders bundled themselves out of Sasha’s room. As the door closed behind Captain Beatrix she turned to her friend, “Hey Sash, I just wanted to say sorry for leaving all the paperwork to you… See there was a minor tunnel collapse down in the lower levels and I was using my powers to hold the ceiling up while Loggle set a new support beam and…” She trailed off as her eyes fell upon Sasha.

The blonde girl was sitting behind her desk arms, wrapped tightly around herself, staring blankly off into space, eyes wide. Anne took a step over to the desk, “Sash?” as she drew nearer, her ears picked up the sounds of Sasha’s breathing, short and frantic. She was having a panic attack.

Sasha was only vaguely aware of her surroundings. Fear closed in around her as if the very walls of the room were crushing down on her, suffocating her. Proteus, Mother Olm, Parisia, Lysil, and Angwin, all of them were gone. Thoughts, buried over two months ago, resurfaced. Cam, Marcy, where they gone too? Mother Olm's prophecy spoke of three, not four, stars. Not that her prophetic powers had done her much good now. Maybe the whole none of it mattered, to begin with. Maybe Mother Olm had just been a senile old lady trying to give false courage to a bunch of teenagers on a doomed quest to save the world. That had to be it. Marcy was gone. Cam was gone, lost in an empty gesture of heroism. Proteus was gone. Croakwood was gone. Wartwood would be soon to follow.

A voice cut through her spiral of misery, “Sash, you’re having a panic attack. You’ll be alright, just try to focus on breathing.” It took a little while but eventually Sasha’s breathing and heartrate stabilized. Anne had wrapped her in a blanket from her bed and was seated next to her on a chair she’d pulled up. She held out a glass of water to Sasha, “this’ll help… probably.”

Sasha accepted the glass, taking a small sip of it she looked down into the water, “I… I don’t want anyone else to die Anne.” She looked up at her friend searching for some sort of reassurance, some kind of promise that everything would be fine. Instead, all she saw was her own fears reflected in Anne’s eyes. Sasha swallowed hard, “I mean… we’ve done well so far. Between your powers and a little bit of luck we’ve done some serious damage to Andrias’ army and now that all the frogs, newts, and toads are working together we’re stronger than ever.” She trailed off, looking back down into her glass, “but after Croakwood… and now Proteus.”

Anne’s eyes widened, “We lost Croakwood?”

“A ship flew over it a couple of days ago, we haven’t heard from or seen the Croakwood resistance since. They’re gone. We were waiting to hear back from them if they’d join the attack on the castle. I didn’t know them, but they knew Cam…” she paused, “and now he and Marcy are g-”

Anne reached out and grabbed Sasha’s shoulder, “don’t say that! We don’t know what happened to Cameron or Marcy.”

Sasha looked into Anne’s pleading eyes, “I don’t…” She broke down into tears. Anne tried to hold herself together, but the effort proved too much. Tears began rolling down her cheeks. The two girls hugged each other as they cried.

“Promise me…” Still hugging Anne tightly Sasha voice choked up though her tears, “promise me you won’t go anywhere.”

Anne squeezed her friend tight, “I promise, and I promise we’ll get Marcy and your brother back. Safe and sound.”

Marcy wiped grease from her hands onto her cloak, “aaaand that should do it!” With a tug, she pulled the calamity transfer device free. It was quite different from the one at the first temple. While that one had been slender and collapsible, looking like something out of Star Trek, the third temple’s transfer device was rotund. The Wires had been connected to the device by melting their ends rather than having distinct plugs. Overall, the work was direct, uninspired and simplistic, though undeniably effective. Removing the device required a great deal of wire cutting and carefully keeping track of what had a current running through it and what didn’t. Thankfully, the Dark King had provided her with flame-retardant gear, though it did little to help with the occasional electric shock. Marcy smoothed her hair down for the fourth time, “alrighty, time for temple number three, which is of course the second from last time but who really knows which one was built first, second, or third…”

As she lugged the transfer device out of the stone toad’s room a flash of movement seen in the corner of Marcy’s eye caused her to halt. It looked like that old newt lady Anne had disappeared with at the second temple, only this time she was wearing white. Turning Marcy looked around the room, “uh… hello?” When no reply came, she began backing out of the room, “I’ve been in this heat too long…”

Valeriana watched as the girl in dark armour hurried out of the temple. She frowned, her one good eye following Marcy as she approached the ship. Foolish child, for all her great intellect she had been easily duped by that unnatural thing. They’d be coming to see her next. Of course, she was under no obligation to show up. The final transfer device would be impossible for the Core to reach so long as she stayed away, however. She sighed, tightening her grasp on her staff. Her faith was in the prophecy, if she failed to intervene the Core would bend it to its will. Marcy must be warned, no matter the cost.

Chapter Text

The cold mountain air stole Marcy’s breath as the fleet ship’s bay door slid open. Without the transitory period that travelling here on Joe Sparrow brought the shift in climate was immediately noticeable. The air was thinner, and crisper, and it stung her nostrils as she breathed. The Dark King stepped out onto the snow, his boots, warmed by the power coursing through them melting it underfoot. The eyes on his helmet dilated, adjusting to the sun reflecting off the perfectly white surroundings, “Not much to look at, is it?”

Marcy held a hand out in front of her to block the glare, she shrugged, “this is pretty much all I ever saw. Anne was the only one who actually made it inside the temple.”

The Dark King walked up to the lone arch and ran his hand along one of its pillars, “probably some kind of folded space or pocket dimension deal. Fits well with the calamity box’s effects but I don’t understand why this one is so different from the others…”

“Well, the second gem is related to heart, right? It’s probably quite difficult to design trials to test that in a structured manner like intellect or strength.”

The Dark King nodded, “I think you’re right.” He turned back to Marcy, “You mentioned there was a guide for this temple?”

“Yeah, this really old newt lady called Valeriana. She was stern and stuff but did give us these neat caterpillar wool coats.” Marcy rubbed her arms, “kinda wish I had one of those now.”

“Are you cold?”

Marcy’s shivered a little bit as a gust of mountain air blew past them, “this armor is great and all, but it’s not really insulated. How are you not freezing?”

The corner of the Dark King’s mouth curled upwards, “Someone didn’t read the instructions.”

Marcy glared at him as she wrapped her cloak about herself, “who reads the instruction manual for clothes?”

He sighed, “left gauntlet. There’s a temperature control panel right behind the spot the grappling launcher pops out.”

“Ooh!” Marcy flipped the panel open, “and it’s in Kelvin!”

The smirk on the Dark King’s features widened, “I thought you’d like that touch.”

She pressed a few buttons then shivered in relief as the heating elements of the suit kicked in, “soooo much better.”

“I told the Core about the heated ski boots my mom wore when she took me and Sash up to Sugar Bowl. Turned out to be an easy addition to the body suits.” He held up his hand to shield his face from a sudden gust of wind, “But enough idle chit chat, how did you find her?”

“Valeriana? Well, walking through the arch we found her tent just up there.” Marcy pointed up the hill and shrugged once more, “Anne said she knew her. Recognized her from some bazar thingy.”

“Bizarre…”

“Yes actually.”

“What?”

“What?”

“…Never mind,” Setting off at a swift lope the Dark King began trudging through the snow in the direction Marcy had indicated, “Lets see if she still here then.”

It didn’t take long for the two to reach the spot where Valeriana’s tent was erected. Catching sight of it through the cloud layer they were walking through Marcy’s eyes lit up with excitement, “There it is! Same as before…” She trailed off as the clouds parted, revealing an element-blasted ruin. Marcy ran forward, inspecting the tattered remnants of the tent, “How is this possible? Sure, it wasn’t in the greatest shape last time, but this stuff looks ancient.” Gingerly she reached down and picked up a small wooden sign that in bygone ages had once read ‘out to lunch’. Wind and snow had long since peeled the paint off and the rope meant to hand the sign had disintegrated.

The Dark King’s eyes scanned over the ruin, “If this stuff is so old, why hasn’t it been buried by the snow?”

“Simple.” Valeriana stepped out of the cloud bank. Gone were her tattered brown robes, replaced with brilliant white cloth hemmed with gold accents. Even the dagger at her hip seemed to shine brighter in the afternoon sunlight, “It refuses to be buried, for it has a purpose yet to serve.”

The Dark King whirled, sword igniting as he drew it in one fluid motion. Marcy turned her head, “See! I told you she’d be here!”

“It’s not possible…” Snarling, the Dark King held his blade out, tip aimed at the elderly newt’s face. The cruel red blade hissed as snowflakes impacted the energy field and around it the air shimmered, scorched by the heat bleeding off the weapon. He took a step forward, placing himself directly between Valeriana and Marcy, “you cannot be that Valeriana. Identify yourself, now!”

“I can, and I am.” A small smile twisted the newt’s face, “does that frighten you, majesty?”

“Cameron, wait! She’s a friend!” Marcy tried to move forward but a black armored hand held her back.

The Dark King didn’t take his eyes off Valeriana. “She’s not what you think she is Marcy.” A low growl escaped the back of his throat as he spoke, “That newt over there, is responsible for all of this…”

Marcy jumped slightly as Valeriana stamped her staff on the ground sending an unnaturally loud boom echoing throughout the mountain range, “Do not speak in riddles and ambiguities Dark King. For once tell the poor child the truth.”

The many eyes of the Dark King narrowed in anger, some trembling while others remained unphased, fixed upon Valeriana, “The truth Marcy…In ancient times, a brilliant newt found the calamity gems. Through great effort, she turned their raw power into a functional device, one of limitless power and possibilities. With that power she achieved the dream of empire.” He paused, “the Newtopian Empire, the calamity box, the conquests of realms, all came from the work of one Queen… Queen Valeriana…”

Marcy stared at the ancient newt, “but… that was thousands of years ago… how can she be alive?”

“The rulers of Newtopia ever sought immortality…” the Dark King’s lips curled and his grip on his sword hilt tightened, “but it would seem she cracked that code long ago…”

“I don’t understand! Why did you help us? Anne said you charged the box for her!”

“Simple… She seeks its power for herself, just like the Core did.”

Valeriana chuckled, “You wear the mask of righteous rage well, even I almost believe it.”

“Cameron…” Marcy’s voice was small, almost drowned out by the snowstorm blowing around them, “what’s she talking about?”

“Ignore her Marcy, she’s trying to get inside your head.”

“Not head, heart. And not her’s…” Valeriana took a step forward, staring into the unblinking mass of orange eyes, “yours…”

The Dark King stepped back, his voice was a mix of rage and horror, “the temple…”

“You’ve been inside this whole time. Ever since you stepped through that arch.” Holding her staff out Valeriana pointed directly at the Dark King, “You sought the challenge of the second temple dark one. Now face it! Face the conflict within your own heart!”

The Dark King’s demeanor shifted, his stance relaxed and her let out a dry chuckled, “I see where this is going. There is nothing within this cave except what I bring with me, right? Do your worst crone, you have nothing to match me.”

“Do not be so sure.” Valeriana flicked her staff, turning it as if it were a key set in a door. The ancient timber glowed as if lit from within by a blue light.

>“Okay… okay… maybe if I try interfacing with the short-term memory I could weasel my way into the optic nerve and then… Yo what the fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk!”

The Dark King’s eyes immediately shifted, “Marcy! The last transfer device, it's the staff!” With a surge of energy, he leapt forward, left hand outstretched, grasping.

Brilliant blue light exploded from the staff. It engulfed Marcy’s vision, burning her eyes as if she’d checked her phone in the middle of the night only a dozen times worse. She fell back, rubbing at her aching eyes and blinking rapidly. Slowly the world returned around her, the mangled ruins of Valeriana’s tent, the dark rock peaking out beneath the snow, the dark green of the fir trees, and three figures. One in white, and two clad in midnight black. Head still swimming Marcy squinted, focusing on the two dark figures. At first, they were standing stalk still, staring at each other. They were nearly identical, same height same build, even the same armour down to the smallest detail.

Or… perhaps not. The dark figure closest to the white one was missing a head. No… a helmet. His messy blonde hair was exposed to the elements, rippling to the side as the storm whipped at him. Marcy’s sense came back to her in a flash, “Cameron!” she struggled to her feet.

One of them shouted, she couldn’t tell which, “Marcy! Stay back!” then they lunged at each other. Valeriana raised he staff again; Marcy closed her eyes instinctively. The flash was visible even behind her closed eye lids. When she opened them again, they were gone, vanished into thin air. Slumping down into the snow Marcy starred over at Valeriana. Anger and fear mixed in her voice, “What did you do!”

“You should thank me.” The female newt’s voice was as cold as the windswept slopes of the mountain range, “I just saved your planet. Now sit, we must talk about destiny.”

Cameron’s mind spun, and for the first time in a while, it was not the full extent of his existence. He blinked, staring off into the starry expanse that made up his new surroundings. He was here, physically here, “Wherever here is…” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, “Oooh that feels weird…” he took in a deep breath, “Did breathing always feel like that?” He cocked his head, “That’s my body you’ve got there, my real body… so what’s this? Probably some kind of calamity-energy-based hologram. Questions for later, if ever.”

“You’re thinking aloud imbecile.”

“Well, you’ll have to forgive me.” Cameron turned to his companion, lips curling and nostrils flaring, “Some fucking dipshit locked me in cyberspace, inside my own head, for two months.” Reaching down he gripped the hilt at his belt. Thumbing the ignition he raised the sword point, it burned a magnificent blue, the same as the hourglass symbol Valeriana had worn around her neck, “Now… I’ve got some shit to work out on you…”

The Dark King raised his own blade in an elegant salute, a cocky smile dancing on his lips, “Don’t make me laugh, we both know how this ends.”

Cameron didn’t answer. Wordlessly he charged, sword hilt held in both hands, tip low to the ground. The Dark King retreated, adopting a causal guard. As he closed the distance Cameron released the grip of his left hand on the hilt. Closing his left eye, he held his arm up and activated the hard light shield built into the gauntlet, removing its limiter. The hologram exploded outward, creating a strobe-like effect. The Dark King's eyes flickered, attempting to adjust to the randomly varying light patterns. It was enough.

Cameron swung his sword up. It impacted the Dark King’s own, hastily thrown up, hard-light shield. It bounced off, clipping one of the helmet’s horns. Cameron didn’t wait for a response, with a flick of his wrist the strobe shield faded, and the grappling spike shot out, landing between the Dark King’s feet. Unable to maneuver easily without tripping over the line the Dark King activated the rocket boosters in his boots sending him flying across the small area handing in the starry sky. Cameron panted, his heat (or whatever was simulating it) racing, retracting the spike he set off in pursuit.

The Dark King landed on the edge of the platform, skidding to a halt inches away from the dizzying drop. His cocky smile had turned into annoyance, “So… you’ve been keeping up with my memories.”

Cameron’s blade crashed into the Dark King’s, blue and red light crackling and turning into a royal purple. Cameron was snarling, his features twisted into a ferocious mask of pure hatred and rage. Up close the telltale signs of his new body’s origin were more apparent. His skin had a faint blue glow to it, as lightning for the clashing blades struck his form it peeled away the skin to reveal a similar scene to the sky above them, a myriad of stars with ribbons of tri-colour streams flowing through it. His teeth gnashed as he spoke, “It’s my body! They’re my memories!”

The Dark King snarled with exertion as he met the young man’s strength, “Not anymore!”

They broke off the clash, dancing back in mirrored unison. As one, both warriors raised their left arms, the grappling spikes collided mid-air. Spinning so their capes obscured their actions from their opponent, both reached into their utility belts. Smoke bombs and flash grenades detonated across the arena, effectively cancelling each other out as the smoke blocked the flash and the detonation of said flash bangs blew pockets in the smoke. They charged, thrust, parry, riposte, disengage. They locked hands, fighting with all their strength to bring their blade down on the opponent’s head. The Dark King shot his head forward, smashing into Cameron’s nose. Blue starlight liquid dripped down his face. Cameron roared and brought his knee straight upward.

Both combatants fell back, nursing their respective injuries. Coughing and blinking rapidly as the world swam around him, Cameron glared at the Dark King, “I would say I hope that hurt… but I know exactly how painful that was…”

The Dark King’s many eyes remained fixed on Cameron, but his face showed clear signs of nausea, “c-childish… moves like that won’t win this for you…”

Cameron wiped liquid away from his mouth, he spat out more starry liquid, “Well get ready for more because I’m going to beat your body snatching ass senseless.”

A grin spread across the Dark King’s lips, “I see…” he stood up, wincing. He chuckled, “Then bring it motherfucker…”

Snorting, Cameron charged. He weaved left, bringing his sword down towards the Dark King’s head with immense force, opening the bastard up for a gut punch that would wind him. That, in addition to the testicular trauma he’d suffered a moment ago, practically guaranteed he’d be impaired.

The blade slid down, falling towards his foe’s exposed face, his face. Nothing. His blade didn’t meet resistance. Panic filled Cameron and he twisted his arm, sending the blow wide. The blue laser sword slammed into the rocky ground, inches away from the Dark King’s feet. He hadn’t even flinched. Stepping back Cameron glared at his opponent, “What the fuck is wrong with you? What are you doing?!”

The Dark King threw back his head and laughed, “I admit that was risky but… you just proved a theory of mine.”

A chill ran down Cameron’s neck, realization.

“I see you’ve caught on too. You may as well give up now, there’s no conceivable way you win this.” The Dark King took a step forward, “We are practically identical you and I, barring one glaring difference. A difference we are both keenly aware of.” Tapping the side of his head he grinned, “Only one of us wants to kill the other…”
Cameron swallowed hard, “I-I’ll do it! I’ve seen what you’ve done. I watched the destruction of Proteus through my own eyes. You don’t think I’d give up my own life to stop a monster like you? You don’t think I’d give up anything to save Sash?”

The Dark King tutted, “Ah yes, Sash, our sister.”

“Don’t you fucking dare…”

“Or what?” The Dark King shrugged, “I know you, Cameron. I’m inside your head, in a more literal way than anyone who’s ever used that term could possibly be. You’re a selfish coward at heart, with a strong self-preservation instinct. Sure, maybe familial love could override that, but I know you don’t know how to lose. No matter what, some small part of you won’t accept this is over.”

Cameron’s knuckles turned white as he squeezed the hilt of his sword ever tighter, “and I know, that you know, there are ways for me to win without killing myself.”

“Ah yes, Marcy’s little project. I believe I estimated its chances of success at less than ten percent after I found out which frequency band she is targeting.” The Dark King shook his head, “Throwing away those three girls' lives on a ten percent chance, all to save your own skin. It’s comical that you and your sister consider never giving up a virtue. Think of all the lives you’d save if you learned when to call it quits.”

“Are you done?”

“No, but you are.”

With a roar they clashed once more but it was quickly apparent that they were each playing by very different rules. The Dark King didn’t even bother parrying Cameron’s blade, instead he relentlessly pushed forward. For his part Cameron fought as ferociously as he dared, but with the pretenses dropped it was he could do to defend himself from the Dark King’s relentless assault.

A dozen cuts covered Cameron’s body, each a narrowly avoided fatal blow. He was on the verge of tears. This wasn’t fair, there was no way for him to win. Worst still he knew he had been drawn out by Valeriana for the expressed purpose of ending his own life to stop the Dark King. It was easy to see why, he wasn’t in the prophecy and his presence only served to bolster the power of the enemy of both their worlds. Things would be a lot more straightforward if he took the Dark King’s life.

But he couldn’t. Maybe it was instinctive self-preservation, maybe it was confidence in the girls to overcome this evil, or maybe it was pure and simple cowardice. More likely it was all three. His feet gave away and tripped up over themselves to avoid a downward slashing blow. Collapsing he scooted backward, he’d been here before, against Andrias. The Dark King batted his sword away, sending it skidding across the arena and over the edge, “this… is over.”

Reaching down the Dark King gripped his face, palm over his mouth, lifting Cameron’s battered form off the ground so their eyes met. The Dark King grinned, “Now… be a good boy and go back to your room.”

Tears of rage danced in Cameron's eyes as he screamed defiantly. His voice was cut off as a burning warmness filled his chest. As the world went dark around him Cameron was vaguely aware of the Dark King dropping his body over the lip of the platform. As his eyes glazed over the last thing he saw was his own features peering down at him, receding from view, a cruel smile plastered on his lips.

>“…”

Chapter Text

Ancient machinery stirred. A husk, left abandoned for months having been considered obsolete, had been given new purpose. Its joints, stiff from inactivity screamed in protest as the lumbering metal monstrosity prowled through the halls of the Newtopian Palace. Frobot guards fell in behind it, their eyes blazing with orange light, as one they ascended towards the throne room.

The few remaining organic inhabitants of the palace watched the silent mass of steel from the safety of side rooms and alcoves. Those that could not move out of the way fast enough were bulled over and trampled underfoot as the procession didn’t so much as break stride.

Great mechanical claws pried the throne room door open with unnatural dexterity given their size. The room was empty, lit only by the multicolour energy of the box sitting atop a pedestal behind the small dark metal throne. Red, blue, and green lights danced across the walls, giving the impression that a rave was being prepared in the chamber. The husk scurried over to the box, massive orange eyes levelling with it. A smaller claw reached out, touching seven distinct points on the pedestal in rapid succession. There was an audible hiss as the invisible energy field around the box dissipated.

Behind the husk, the frobots began murmuring.

“His majesty is lost…”

“His majesty shall be found…”

“Return to us majesty…”

The key on the box turned. The great orange eyes moved back and forth, following its smaller appendages. It adjusted, it tuned, it manipulated the controls, this was a delicate operation, made all the more difficult by the urgency of the situation.

“For what is a man…”

There was a violent tearing noise. Usually when a portal opened it was a thing of beauty, a bridge of wonder between two worlds. But that place, it was never meant to be traveled to. The portal looked less like a pool of light and more like a wound upon the air, it leaked energy and starlight.

“…what has he got?”

The frobots buzzed like a hive of bees, chanting the words louder and louder. A hand reached out of the portal, grabbing its edge.

“…If not himself. Then he has naught.”

“Why should I trust you?” Marcy wielded a frozen tent pole out in front of her, it had been almost five minutes since the Dark King had vanished along with the Cameron apparition, “bring Cameron back!”

Valeriana’s features were resolute, showing no sign of empathy. Her parrot sat preached on her shoulder, having appeared after the Dark King was no longer a present threat, “I cannot child. To do so would risk everything I’ve worked towards. I understand your grief for your friend but ultimately, his life is best served spent.”

“You don’t get to decide that!” Marcy’s lip trembled; she recalled what the ancient newt had told her. How the Dark King had manipulated her, tricked her into believing Cameron had returned to save her. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, not after everything they’d gone through together, but she knew better. The signs had always been there, she’d been a fool to ignore them. She gritted her teeth, “I don’t care if the Core is still in control of him, I won’t give up on him!”

“You must, for the sake of both our worlds. The Core has turned your friend into a weapon beyond even my worst nightmares. For the sake of the prophecy, he had to be removed.”

“What are you talking about?” Marcy took a step forward gripping her improvised weapon even tighter, “What prophecy?”

The wind whipped around Valeriana as she held up her staff, writing appeared above her in crisp blue light, “Three Stars, burning bright, come from beyond to expel the Night, should they fight or embrace the Fall? Their choice will determine the fate of all. ” As the wind died down Valeriana lowered her staff, “The prophecy is quite clear, Cameron Andrew Waybright has no part to play in saving Amphibia.” Valeriana’s good eye twitched, “He will kill the Dark King, cutting his own life short to save all of ours. He will be remembered across both our worlds as a hero, not a tyrant’s tool.”

Marcy’s blood ran cold, “no… no, no, no!” She ran forward dropping the tent pole, she grabbed hold of Valeriana’s staff, “no, please!”

“I am so sorry child, I truly am, but this is bigger than any one person.” With a tug she pulled her staff free, “It matters not now anyways. It has been long enough; either the Dark King is dead, or Cameron has failed. Either way, I will not let whoever yet lives return to Amphibia.”

Marcy was on all fours, her head hung low, “please…” she looked up. The mountain wind tore the tears from her eyes before they could form streaks down her face, “I can save him, please. Just give me a chance, you can’t do this to him…”

“The electron scrambler right?” Valeriana shook her head sadly, “He knows of its existence, child.”

“It can still work, please, he deserves the chance.”

Valeriana knelt before Marcy, placing her remaining hand on the young girl’s shoulder. Whatever words of wisdom she was about to utter however were cut off as a brilliant kaleidoscope of light illuminated the mountain slopes.

“I feel I should offer you some measure of gratitude Valeriana.” Through the portal stepped the Dark King. His armour was scorched and scarred from his fight with Cameron. The axolotl horns on the right side of his helmet were stumps and his cape was in tatters but still, he cut a menacing dark figure that stood out like a sore thumb against the gentle white snow around him. A sneer curled his lips, “necessity is the mother of invention after all.”

Valeriana shot up, backpedalling away from him, “it’s not possible…”

“Now you’re catching on…” There was a hiss and the Dark King’s laser sword sprung into life, “I am far beyond your meagre understanding of what is, and is not, possible.” Behind him frobots marched through the portal, fanning out into a firing line across from Valeriana. Their eyes blazed orange and they moved in perfect unison. Holding out his hand the Dark King advanced, “Give. Me. The Staff.”

Clutching her staff tight to her chest Valeriana processed what had happened. Somehow the Core was inhabiting multiple bodies simultaneously. Such a thing should not be possible even with platforms on the same planet let alone across dimensions. Yet before her stood the evidence. The box, of course, how could she have been so blind? It folded space and pierced dimensions, bridging a signal over any distance or universe would be an obvious application of its effects. So that was it then, her life’s and after-life’s work, her atonement, all would be for naught. Her eyes drifted over Marcy, she must be crushed, fallen into despair. What Valeriana saw, however, would have made her ghostly heart skip a beat were such a thing possible.

Marcy was slowly rising. Eyes fixated upon the Dark King as he advanced on Valeriana. In her hand, she gripped a small metallic device. There was no fear in her eyes, no despair, no hesitation. Her eyes burned with determination.

The Dark King snarled as he saw a smile dance on Valeriana’s lips, “Don’t tell me you actually think you have a way out of this?” He swept his arm out, gesturing to the world around them, “Go ahead, use what little power you have and send me to whatever far-flung corner of reality you wish. The Calamity box will bring me right back here to end your sorry excuse of an existence, every time. Conjure Cameron again, I’ll rip him to pieces once more.” He cocked his head to the side and grinned, “he was making progress you know? Exercising what little autonomy he could but as soon as you pulled him for your pathetic scheme, I wiped the slate clean. Not to mention he’s a depressed wreck now, really, I should have come to see you sooner…”

Ignoring the Dark King's barbs Valeriana smiled wider, “I am smiling my dear dark monarch, because things are transpiring as they should.” Suddenly, she slammed her staff to the ground. Energy flowed out, engulfing everyone present in a bubble of blue light, or at least almost everyone. Silence fell across the clearing. Snowflakes froze mid-air, setting intricated patterns as they marked the wind currents that flowed around the figures of Valeriana, the Dark King, and his frobot retinue. Valeriana and the Dark King’s eyes were locked, one filled with smug satisfaction while the other burned with unending hatred. The silence was only broken by a few slow footsteps crunching snow underfoot.

Marcy's heart raced as she walked towards the frozen figure of the Dark King. Even in this vulnerable state, there was an undeniable aura of dread that surrounded him. He was posed mid lunge towards Valeriana, outstretched hand inches away from her staff, while his other hand held his blade back and up, a decapitation swing. He twitched, his hand lurching a centimetre closer to the staff. Valeriana’s final gambit was fading.

Marcy gripped the E-9 in her hands, it all of sudden felt quite flimsy, she noticed flaws in it she should have corrected, improvements she could have made.

Focus.

It didn’t matter really; the Dark King had anticipated this plan of hers. Whatever steps he’d taken to protect himself probably left her with a ten percent chance of success at best. Ten percent would have to do. Taking a deep breath Marcy flipped a port on the back of the Dark King’s helmet open. Pulling her hand back she focused her eyes on the small data port located just above the nape of Cameron’s neck. She struck.

Everything happened at once. With a roar that turned into a shriek the Dark King grabbed the staff out of Valeriana’s hands, cleaving his sword across her throat as he did so. The E-9 impacted the data port, lodging itself into it. Sparks and orange lightning crossed across the Dark King, sending Marcy flying back into a nearby snowdrift.

>“Come on! Come on!”

The Dark King clutched his hand eyes flicking in and out as he continued to roar. The Frobots collapsed, orange light fading from their eyes. Throwing his head back the Dark King howled in pain. The eyes blinked out.

>“…”

>“NO!”

The Dark King’s head snapped forward, myriad orange eyes blazing back into existence on the helmet. From their collapsed positions the frobots rose. The Dark King stood still for a moment, panting as smoke trailed off him like a cloak of shadows. Looking down into his hand he tightened his grip on Valeriana’s staff. The Dark King smiled, “Game… set and match it seems.”

Marcy was hauled out of the snowdrift by a gauntleted hand. Opening her eyes she stared into the orange gaze of the Dark King. He snarled, baring his teeth, “I’m disappointed Marcy.”

Squirming she spat onto the helmet, “You really shouldn’t be. Cameron would have seen that coming.”

Tossing her aside the Dark King wiped the saliva off his helmet, “I’ll give you one chance to reconsider. I admit I lied to you about being Cameron, but my offer was genuine. I can give you anything you want. I can make any dream you have a reality; nothing is beyond my power to give.”

She glared up at him from the ground, “All I want is for you to release Sasha’s brother! Release Cameron!”

The gauntleted hand grabbed her by the collar of her armour, “Let’s get one thing straight here.” He dragged her up, dangling the young girl midair, “This is your fault, always has been. You brought everyone here to Amphibia by your own selfishness. You handed the calamity box over to Andrias. Cameron stayed behind to save you and look what that got him.” He snarled into her face, “You’ve doomed your friends, you’ve doomed your entire planet. If you want to save them, to make up for your mistakes, you will submit to me, and maybe… just maybe… I will show them some small measure of mercy.”

Marcy breathed in sharply, heart racing but she held firm. She glared back into the orange eyes, “No, I’ll save them by standing up to you!”

The Dark King’s grip tightened, “You’ve read too many fantasy stories, Marcy.” A low growl escaped his lips, “tropes don’t play out in real life.”

“This isn’t about tropes or role playing.” Marcy gripped the Dark King’s wrist with both hands trying to loosen his grip, “this is about doing what’s right.”

The Dark King released his grip, dropping her to the floor, “If you will not listen to reason…” he turned his back and walked towards the still-open portal, “then I will show you just how futile your resistance is.” He signalled to two frobots, “Seize her and marshal the fleet… We’re going to Wartwood.”

“What. Of. The. Traitor? Majesty?” The frobot’s voice was slow, clearly, the windy mountain weather was not treating them well.

The Dark King looked back over his shoulder to where the fallen form of Valeriana should have been. Nothing remained, the only evidence she had even been there to begin with being a couple shallow footprints, “She’s gone. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll keep it that way.”

As Marcy was dragged back towards the portal, she caught sight of movement in a nearby tree. Leander took off, flapping his tiny wings furiously, he flew out over the treetops, disappearing from Marcy’s sight. Despite the terror she felt at the Dark King’s words she felt a small bit of relief. Maybe things were going to turn out alright.

Chapter Text

Andrias shifted uncomfortably, hands fidgeting behind his back, eyes flicking back and forth between the two other occupants of the throne room. He coughed gently, flinching slightly as the great metal behemoth to his right snapped its central eye towards him.

“Is something troubling you, prince?”

“No. No troubles majesty.” Andrias reached a massive hand up and rubbed the back of his neck, “okay maybe some troubles…” he turned his head to the other figure and the back to the Core, “Do you have to stare at me with this thing while you talk to me from…” he gestured haphazardly, “the boy’s body?”

The Dark King looked up from the calamity box, his features bathed in its multicolored light, “You find it unsettling?”

“More so… distracting… royal etiquette training didn’t cover ‘one mind multiple bodies’.”

Turning back to the box the Dark King affixed another diode to it, orange eyes narrowing when nothing happened, “That husk is a mere extension of my will, nothing more than an extra limb.” He reached down and picked up a plasma torch, “my principal intelligence is stored within Cameron’s mind as before, I have simply extended my reach into the network our frobot units use.”

Andrias turned his gaze to the Dark King, “I meant to ask… how is such a thing possible?”

“A happy coincidence, one which I probably wouldn’t have discovered had the need not arisen.” Blue plasma flashed in the poorly lit throne room, Andrias held a hand up, shielding his eyes. The Dark King continued, unphased by the intricacies of his work, “The calamity box allows instantaneous travel of matter and energy across any distance or dimension. When I adapted the helmet for field excursions, I had only considered keeping a single connection between Cameron’s mind and the repository of my digitized soul on the moon. But as I sat trapped in Valeriana’s pocket dimension, I realized that it could be so much more. The power within the calamity box is highly versatile and malleable, it was a relatively simple matter to establish a connection to my old shell and after that…”

Andrias nodded, “what are the limitations?”

“As great as my mental faculties are, even I have limits to my multitasking abilities. For simple tasks, I can manage about twenty different platforms but for any kind of simultaneous complex task effectiveness decreases significantly after I extend beyond two.”

“So, I’m not being taken off invasion preparations then?”

The Dark King shut off the plasma torch and stood, rotating to face the prince, “Is that what you wanted to speak to me about?” he chuckled, “robots taking your job?”

“I live to serve you majesty, I simply want to make sure I remain useful to you.”

“Believe me Andrias…” The Dark King handed the plasma torch off to the Core which resumed work on the box, “If I thought you were useless, you’d know immediately.”

Andrias swallowed. He already felt pretty sidelined, reduced from monarch of the world to a glorified clerk for the frobot army. He watched the smile that danced on the Dark King’s lips, was that meant to reassure him? Or was it meant to toy with him? Was he already useless to the Dark King? He coughed once more, “You told me you were heading to Wartwood tomorrow. Would you like me to accompany you? Boonchuy and I have a score to settle…”

“No.” The Dark King shook his head, “I appreciate your desire for revenge, but the invasion is far behind schedule and I’m about to introduce further setbacks. I need you to keep a hand of things here, else we’ll be hopeless delayed.”

“Further setbacks?” Andrias’ eyes lit up, “We’re delaying the invasion again?”

“Operating frobot units myself was an… enlightening experience. That, coupled with the resistance of that one archaic model the Plantars dug up, has given me a few ideas to address the flaws of our army. I’ll run the newest design past Triple B tonight. I expect the resource drain to be significant given the sophistication of what I’m planning, but if they turn out as I desire the results will be well worth it.” The Dark King held up his hand and an eye stalk from the Core slithered through to air toward it. Landing in his palm the eye dilated and projected an image of a highly modified frobot.

Andrias leaned in close, nodding his head as he noted the Dark King’s additions, “cloak-bot chassis… enhanced motor function… network independence… removed inhibitors…” he paused, “Are you sure such a thing is wise? Free thinking frobots might refuse orders.”

“I shall impress upon them the benefits of loyalty.” The Dark King's eyes locked onto the neural net schematics of the frobot, “the main weakness of our force is not lethality or lack of firepower, it is tactical inflexibility and an absence of lateral thinking. Sash and her resistance fighters have exploited this from day one… It’s a pity we weren’t able to recover that archaic frobot’s memory unit otherwise we might have come to this realization sooner but by enabling these units to learn we will create a deadly and efficient fighting force capable of going toe to toe with any warrior in Amphibia.”

“Then I shall prepare an instructional video for them.” Andrias tapped his chin smiling wistfully, “Marcy told me about these 'Dee eye why' videos on the human internet, I could probably find a combat tutorial pretty quickly…”

“Absolutely not.” The Dark King’s eyes narrowed, “we only just cured your energy drink addiction. I’m not spending another couple weeks weening you off human entertainment videos.” He waved his hand dismissively, “Go send another cloak bot to earth for that book series if you’re bored.” He paused and tapped his own chin, “although now that I mention it… Cameron was waiting for the next installment of Cosmic Frontier to drop last summer…”

Andrias rubbed his hands together, “Oh, we could do a book club!”

“What an appalling idea, I don’t want to read that Cynthia Coven trash.”

“You take that back!”

“It’s contrived and is barely self-consistent!”

“Contrived?! Marcy’s told me about Cosmic Frontier, she said everything is overdramatized and contrived!”

“How dare… it’s supposed to be a bit overdramatic it’s an exploration of the human condition!”

The two descended into argument shouting back and forth as the Core continued to work away at the calamity box pedestal, the three transfer devices sitting nearby, ready for their new purpose in the Dark King’s schemes.

(~one year earlier)

Even close to midnight, the city of LA was as busy as ever. Lines of traffic could be seen crisscrossing the city like a lattice of light woven into the coast. The summer heat was fast approaching but after nightfall, the ocean saw temperatures drop to more reasonable levels.

The girls were at Sasha and Cameron’s mom’s house for a sleepover. It was the preferred location for such events and not only because Sasha was always the one to make the plans. The Waybright sibling’s mom had a definite eye for interior design their dad lacked, so despite being about the same size the house had a lot more polish which Ms. Waybright worked hard to maintain. It was clear to anyone who knew Sasha or Cameron where they got their control freak genes from as soon as they stepped inside the house.

Of course, with such amenities came a strict house, at least in theory. Ms. Waybright had been quick to lay down the law in the early days, but over the years loopholes had been found. After five years of continuous limit-pushing, the rules were at best guidelines the siblings paid lip service to. The art of it was timing.

Tonight, Anne, Sasha, and Marcy were sitting at the kitchen table after dinner as they waited for Ms. Waybright to go to bed so the real party could begin. Sasha and Anne were browsing through their phones, but Marcy had cracked out her laptop and was babbling aloud to them about the game she was playing. Still scrolling, Anne and Sasha would nod or offer the occasional ‘cool’ whenever Marcy paused to take a breath.

“… and so, you basically control an entire kingdom (or in my case queendom) and you have to manage the economy, politics, military, diplomacy, and research. All of which you can totally customize and micromanage to fit one of a hundred play styles. I’m only about a hundred hours into this game so there’s not much to see yet… but! But! At about the two hundred hours mark, you’ll be blown away by my queendom of awesomeness.” Oblivious to her friends’ lack of interest Marcy leaned in close to her screen, “Okay now I just need to figure out why I’m losing all these battles with raiders…”

There was a click as the front door cracked open. Gingerly Cameron poked his head in, sighing a little when he saw the girls were the ones keeping the lights on. Stepping through the doorway he tucked a can of something into his sweater pocket glancing around into the side rooms, “Oh… hey… didn’t know it was a sleepover night. Uh… is mom still up?”

Sasha didn’t look up, “don’t think so. We’re going to wait a couple minutes though just to be safe.”

“Sweet.” Cameron nodded to Marcy and Anne, “Hey guys, how’s it hanging?”

“Oh, not much.” There followed an awkward silence as both Cameron and Anne stared over at Marcy. The black-haired girl was practically folded into her laptop, completely oblivious to her surroundings.

Cameron shrugged and began untying his shoes, “So Anne, your dad tells me you kicked butt at the junior's tournament.”

Anne rubbed her neck, slightly embarrassed, “I don’t know about that…”

Cameron shook his head, hiding a smile, “No, no. He was quite specific.” He held up a hand, framing the words in the air as he spoke them, “kicked. Butt.” Snorting in amusement he dropped his hand, “alright I’ll stop teasing. Seriously though, how’d it go?”

“I mean… I made it to the semi-finals.”

“That’s great!” Cameron took off his last shoe, tossing it haphazardly onto the pile of other shoes by the door, “you made quarters last year right? Awesome work!”

“Bottom of the semis…”

Cameron opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a groan from Sasha who had thrown he head backward so that her hair dangled down the back of her chair. Flopping her head up she rolled her eyes at Anne, “And this just goes to show why you’d be a total loser without me, Anne. Seriously if you put as much effort into tennis as you did with this self-pity routine, you’d have made finals.”

Cameron pursed his lips, “Well it’s a backhanded compliment, but Sash is kinda right Anne.”

Sasha cocked her head at her older brother, “What is it you and dad say? I’m just…” She held up her hands making quotation marks with her index and middle finger, “keeping it real.”

Cameron rolled his eyes; walking past the kitchen table he went and got a glass from the cupboard. Reaching down into his sweater pocket he pulled out a beer and set it on the counter. Reaching into his other pocket he pulled out another one and slid it into the freezer.

Sasha smirked mischievously, “Hey Cam. Does mom know you have those?”

Glancing over his shoulder Cameron’s initial frown turned into a smirk to mirror Sasha’s, “That depends. Does mom know you’re still up?”

Locking eyes the siblings shared a mischievous snigger before turning back to their own business. Opening the beer on the counter with an audible pop Cameron cursed under his breath as it overflowed slightly, having been shaken up a bit by travelling in his pocket. Sipping at the top of the glass to prevent another overflow Cameron began walking out of the kitchen. “If you need me for anything I’ll be downstairs. Bee’s got a big raid planned tonight though, so unless it’s an actual emergency, don’t expect a speedy response.” As he began to walk out of the kitchen his eyes fell on Marcy’s computer screen, “Oh hey, you did get that game.” When there was once again no reply Cameron reached out and flicked the back of Marcy’s head, “Hey, earth to Marcy.”

Marcy looked up, “Wha- oh! It’s so good, you were so right I love it!”

Cameron chuckled, “I can tell, let me take a look.” He leaned over and watched as Marcy clicked through a few tabs of the game’s interface, “that’s not a bad economy, it looks like you’re having some trouble with your court politics. You should watch some videos on court management for the game, rebels can end your game real quick if you have too many unhappy people in your country. I’ll send you this channel I really like that does deep dives… Wait, go back.”

Marcy returned to the tab she had just clicked away from, “the military screen? Why?”

Cameron’s screwed up like he’d just eaten a lemon, “what is this grossness? Why are your stats so low?”

Marcy cupped her chin in her hands and leaned her elbows on the kitchen table, “I mean sure, but I’ve got almost double the troops of my neighbours.”

Cameron shook his head, “you’re lucky you picked up a strong alliance, otherwise everyone would be invading you right now, your army is trash.”

“Whaaaat? But I’ve got so many troops!”

“Yeah, but they’re so low quality they’ll crumble immediately. Quality always beats quantity, all else being equal.”

Marcy pouted, “but I’ve got so many…”

Cameron sighed, “Here I’ll break it down. You’ve spent about the same amount of gold on your army as your neighbour except he’s got a much smaller but better-equipped and trained army, right? So, say you got into a fight, there’s a thing called combat width. That means only so many units can fight at once. Aaaand you’re in a very mountainous region where the combat width is super tiny… Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Marcy’s eyes lit up, “right, it doesn’t matter how many units we both have if we can only fight with ten units at a time.”

Cameron shrugged, “Well kinda, you’ll have more reserves, but you take a morale hit when you lose a unit. Your quantity build has abilities that can mitigate it somewhat but you also have to remember that killing units gives a unit experience. A more experienced enemy is a more powerful enemy so if you drip-feed him your entire army, you’re going to end up fighting a force of veteran troops after not too long. Not to mention, you have to spend a lot more on food to feed your army so you’ll never really be able to equip any that gets experience with good gear while your opponent can use the money, he’s saved on a smaller army to equip his soldiers better, so his elites are even less likely to die.” Cameron took a sip from his beer, “a big army is impressive looking and can intimidate someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, but it doesn’t do you much good if they decide to carve though it.”

Marcy began clicking and typing on her keyboard as she listened to Cameron ramble on, nodding as she made changes to her game. She looked up at Cameron, “alright I’ll give it a shot.”

“Also, use mercenaries. It’s basically a cheat code.”

Marcy didn’t answer, nodding silently she was already fully fixated on her game once more. Sasha shook her head dismissively, “why do you two dorks fill your head with all that useless junk, it’s never going to be helpful.”

Cameron shrugged, “Yeah… combat width in the real world is a bit more abstract.”

Sasha glared at him through lidded eyes, “That’s not what I meant. Are you planning on being a general when you grow up now Cam?”

A bemused snort escaped Cameron and he took a sip from his beer, “You never know, it pays to be prepared Sash. So, when the inevitable time comes that we're put in command of vast armies. Like Anne at tennis, I’ll kick butt, and you’ll be kicking yourself.” Walking backwards out of the kitchen Cameron flashed his sister a smile and made finger guns before disappearing out of sight.

Sasha’s eyes rolled again, “what an idiot.”

(Present day)

“Gah! I’m such an idiot.” Sasha’s face was red with exertion as she pushed the bar upwards. The Wartwood resistance’s gym had been Loggle’s idea initially, but Sasha was the one who made it a reality. The equipment was crude, fashioned out of rock and wood by Loggle himself it would have made any safety inspector lose their lunch. Nevertheless, there had only been a handful of injuries, most of them splinters.

Rising up from a burpee Anne panted and glared over at Sasha, “Hey! I though you said this would help you calm down!”

Gritting her teeth Sasha lifted the bar once more, arms trembling, “No. I said it would help me think clearly!” Grunting with exertion she brought the bar back down towards her, “and all that clarity…” She pushed upwards again, “is just revealing to me…” her arms trembled, moments from failure. There was a flash of blue and Anne standing over her, holding the barbell securely in one hand. Sasha released her grip, arms flopping to the side, “…how out of my depth I am.”

Setting the barbell aside, Anne closed her eyes, extinguishing the blue glow of her calamity powers. Opening them once more she shook her head, “Alright, that’s enough gym for you today. Clearly, this isn’t helping…”

Sitting up Sasha composed herself, accepting a water bottle from Anne, she squirted it into her face, “Actually, I think it did.” She paused taking a long swing from the bottle, “I think I’ve figured out what changed about the frobots. They got a new leader.”

Anne’s eyebrows raised, “you don’t think Andrias just got wise?”

“No, the change was bigger than that.” Grabbing a towel handing off of the wall nearby Sasha began drying the water and sweat off her forehead, “think about it. We were wining, hard. I mean, we were days away from launching our final attack. Then suddenly, boom.” She craned her head back, stretching her neck muscles, “both Croakwood and Proteus, wiped out in one day. Something changed, overnight.”

Anne blinked, “I was skeptical before, but damn Sash, you sound like Marcy.”

Sasha blushed slightly, “Well I don’t know about that…”

Anne held up her hands, “I’m throwing you off, keep going.”

“Right… so I thought, it’s like whenever Cam would pop his head in and give advice to one of us while we were playing a game.”

“Like that time he told us how to beat that skeleton boss monster in that Creatures and Caverns game Marcy set up for us!” Anne grinned, “She was sooo mad…”

Sasha nodded, “Or… like that time he told Marcy to focus on quality versus quantity in that empire-building video game she was obsessed with for a couple of months.”

Anne saw the serious look that passed over Sasha’s face, “you don’t think...”

“No of course not. Cam wouldn’t do this, but I think this is the kind of advice he’d give Andrias. We didn’t find out about the force moving against Proteus until long after, we still don’t know what hit Croakwood. The only massed frobot movements our scouts have picked up are at staging ground around the castle, most likely as a staging ground for their invasion of Earth… wherever they’re hitting us with are small, elite forces, skilled enough to tear through a place as fortified as Proteus.” She paused, “I don’t know if it’s Cam being forced to advise Andrias or if Andrias has found someone as smart as Cam to run his operation but there’s definitely a new brain behind the frobots strategy.”

Anne placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “If you’re right… that probably means they’re keeping Cameron and Marcy alive to interrogate. Maybe Andrias is holding Marcy over Cameron’s head to get his help.”

“I don’t know if I hope you’re right or wrong Anne…” Sasha looked down at the ground, “but regardless I just had another thought.”

“What’s that?”

“If they can find Proteus… they can find us…”

Chapter Text

Wind currents, thrown up by the exhaust of a hundred massive engines, tore at the Dark King’s cloak billowing it out behind him like black wings. The throne room balcony had become a personal favourite of his. It offered an unparalleled view of his core territory, spanning out from Newtopia into the neighbouring townships. The enhanced vision of his helmet allowed a far higher resolution than organic eyes could manage, enabling him to pick out the meandering paths of Newtopian citizens as they went about their lives in the great city far below. Most of all though, he came here to see the muster fields. With the invasion preparations in their final stages, delayed as they may be, a truly impressive amount of force was assembled before him.

The frobot army numbered in the millions their tight formations appeared to the eyes of others from this vantage point as metallic slabs laid out in a checkerboard pattern across the once lush landscape. Though production had been shifted to his newest projects a steady stream of fresh units could be seen emerging from the numerous factory districts. Joining together like tributaries of a water basin they flowed into new pieces of the checkboard, ready for assignment by Prince Andrias.

In the air above them, the fleet gathered, over a hundred ships undergoing their shakedown cruise as mechanical faults were detected and addressed by their frobot crew. In the lee of Newtopia itself the Dark King’s eyes skimmed the work camps, the remnants of the toad army, put to work assembling the next additions to the armada under the watchful eye of loyal Newtopian guards and frobots.

His fingers tapped rhythmically against the parapet. Discontent was brewing in the city over the rapid industrialization and rumours of atrocities committed by frobot forces. So far order had been maintained by coasting on the reputation Andrias had cultivated during his tenure as monarch, but it was evident that goodwill was running its course. He smirked. The timing worked out well, the destruction of Wartwood this afternoon would be the perfect framing device to announce his presence to both the resistance and the city. It was the Wartwood resistance after all, so the destruction of the symbolic heart of the rebellion would send a clear message. To the resistance, it would solidify the trend he’d stared at Porteus, to the city it would mark his new regime as one of decisive action.

He’d neglected politics so far, not even announcing the change of leader to the public, and for good reason. The calamity box and the prophecy were of far greater importance, and Andrias had an undeniable popularity among the common newts, toads, and frogs. The smirk broke into a slight chuckle. With the prophecy understood and the power of the calamity soon to be his in ways he could have only dreamed of, why shouldn’t he pull the strings of his puppet subjects? He deserved the entertainment.

The ground-shaking footsteps of the crown prince announced his presence long before he spoke, “Majesty.”

The Dark King didn’t speak, or turn his head in acknowledgement, merely raising his hand and beckoning Andrias with a casual gesture. Andrias squinted as a jet of hot air form a passing ship blasted the balcony, “The Wartwood strike force is prepared.”

“Well done prince.” The Dark King continued watching the formations.

Awkwardly, Andrias raised up his fist and coughed into it, “uh… are you expecting the resistance to be in Wartwood? I mean we have lost units in the area, but our scouts never reported signs of activity.”

“No. If we happen upon the resistance, it will be a happy coincidence. Sash has been extremely pragmatic in her approach to this conflict so far, I would not expect her to hold on to Wartwood unless it held some tactical significance. That we detect Anne’s calamity signature in that region could also be misleading.”

“I forgot to ask.” Andris scratched his beard, “did we find out for certain if Valeriana was the one disrupting the signal?”

“No. But she remains the most likely cause. She did create the calamity box after all, I doubt even after my own research is concluded I’ll be able to wield its power as effectively as she could.” The Dark King’s grip tightened, cracking the stone parapet, “The point is, we cannot trust that signal. If the resistance is indeed in Wartwood I shall set my plans into motion, otherwise crushing Marcy’s spirit will suffice.”

“Speaking of,” Andrias clasped his hands behind his back, “Marcy and your… king’s guard are awaiting you in the hangar.” A small grunt of annoyance, barely audible or noticeable to any but the keenest ears escaped the prince as the word ‘king’ rolled off his tongue.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

Andrias' posture straightened immediately, “Forgive me, I intended no offence.”

The Dark King finally turned. Andrias couldn’t tell if the twist at the corner of his mouth was supposed to be reassuring or cruel amusement at the situation the former king found himself in. The Dark King gave Andrias’ arm a firm pat, “You’ll get your royal trappings back prince. I just want you ti earn them properly, as is tradition. Once earth falls to our might you will have redeemed yourself beyond a shadow of a doubt. Our newest vassal planet will require a king, I can think of no one better than the newt who brought it to its knees.”

“We’re not exterminating the human civilization?” Andrias’ eyebrows raised, “Won’t that slow down resource extraction?”

“Not in any way that matters. Besides, there is a new resource I’m after.” He flexed his hand before balling it into a fist, “human biology is uniquely powerful and adaptable. If Cameron and Marcy are anything to go by the humans have a vast wealth of brainpower. Selective breeding programs could produce an unparalleled host within a few short generations. That alone is worth keeping those hairless apes alive.”

“Very…” Andrias' face remained emotionless but within his chest a deep sense of revulsion twisted, “forward thinking of you sire…”

“I’m glad you agree…” Turning sharply the Dark King strode inside, “Keep up the good work Andrias, and you’ll be king again in no time.”

Andrias remained motionless as the dark figure of his master disappeared into the castle. He looked out over the once-verdant fields of his home. By all estimates, he held more power than he ever had in his millennial-long rule of the kingdom. In no uncertain terms, he was the commander of the most powerful army in history, the might to conquer planets was his to wield, and yet…

Why do I feel so powerless?

“I got you something.”

Marcy did little to hide her revulsion as she lifted her head to meet the Dark King’s gaze. She was sitting on one of the benches that ran down the sides of the ship’s transport bay. The metal deck beneath her feet shook ever so often as the ship was buffeted by the air currents of amphibia’s skies causing her to grip the edge of her seat for stability. The other occupants of the ship, however, were unperturbed by the turbulence. Cloak-bots, massive and lanky versions of the standard frobot platform crouched in storage mode filled the deck. They remained perfectly still, formed into neat rows that allowed movement about the deck, eyes fixed dead ahead, insensible to Marcy’s presence, the same could not be said for the Dark King.

She stared into the pulsating orange eyes. Her perception of them had changed dramatically since she’d been first exposed to them over two months ago. At first, they’d been nightmarish, the eyes of a monstrous creature of the dark, bent on consuming her life and the lives of those around her. For a time, they’d been a fixture of fascination for her, she’d have sworn she’d been able to make out Cameron’s gaze bleeding through but now… She’d seen them for what they’d always been, cold and dead. A facsimile of life perched upon the frame of her friend, of Sasha’s brother. Her lip curled in disgust, “I thought I made it clear…” her eyes hardened, “I don’t want anything from you.”

The orange light of the eyes illuminated the lower features of the Dark King’s face, Cameron’s exposed face. His lips puckered in amusement, “adorable, but play nice.”

“Or what?” Marcy shrugged, “you’re not going to hurt me, I heard the prophecy too.”

“Clever… but not clever enough. You’re not the only one under my thumb.” The Dark King leaned forward, bringing himself to Marcy’s eye level, “Who do you think should pay for your insolence? Lady Olivia perhaps?” Seeing Marcy’s gaze fall to the floor he grunted derisively, “That’s what I thought.” Reaching behind his back the Dark King produced a medium-sized object made of dark metal, “the wilds beyond the castle hold many dangers, I would be remiss to leave you unarmed.”

It was a crossbow, clearly inspired by the Newtopian guard weapon Marcy had wielded as chief ranger. The limbs were made of the same metal that both Marcy and the Dark King’s armour were constructed from, highly resilient and durable. Strangely it lacked a bowstring or hand grip. Frowning, Marcy looked up at the Dark King, “If this is supposed to be some kind of joke I’m missing the punch line.”

“It fits on your gauntlet, same as the last one just a little more… high tech.” the Dark King nodded, “go ahead. Put it on and try pulling back the ‘bowstring’.”

With a sigh, Marcy slid the weapon onto her right gauntlet. There was a click and then a hum and it held fast. Reaching down she placed her index finger at the end of the flight groove and ran it along the cold metallic surface, pulling an imaginary string along with it. As she reached the end of the groove there was a flash of light. Marcy yelped in surprise, pulling her head back from her arm. Gingerly she opened her eyes and looked down in awe. An energy projection of an arrow had formed on the weapon. It was a pale yellow, the same as the energy swords Andrias, and formerly Cameron, wielded. Holding her hand close she felt no heat emanating from the projection. Touching it revealed the object had a glassy texture, with a slight prickle of static electricity that danced on her fingers as they made contact.

“Hardlight technology.” The Dark King was watching her progress, arms crossed, “the power pack will last you about one thousand shots or ten hours of continuous use. The entire projectile is customizable on the control panel on your left gauntlet. Anything from a grappling hook to a net.” He reached out and gingerly touched the tip, drawing a drop of blood, “of course, the default setting is nanometer edge point tip.”

Marcy dumbly studied the crossbow, silently processing this development. Finally, she looked up at the Dark King, “Why are you giving me a weapon?”

“Didn’t I tell you the wilds-”

“No. Stop. If that were true you’d have given me a weapon when we went to the temples.” She stood up forcing the Dark King to take a step back to give her room to do so. Raising her right arm, she pointed the tip of the still-armed crossbow at his chest, “why would you do something so stupid?”

A smile crept across the Dark King’s features. To Marcy’s horror, he stood a step forward, into the energy bolt, burying it an inch deep into his breastplate. The smile grew larger, “because I… have nothing to fear from you.” Marcy pulled her arm back but the Dark King grabbed it with lightning speed holding it close, “You’re not a killer Marcy. You don’t have it in you…” he began lifting her arm, aiming the weapon higher, “but imagine if you did. Imagine all the lives you’d save right now.” The energy bolt stopped, pointing directly into the Dark King’s face, “You could end this right now Marcy, pull the trigger.” He laughed seeing the panic in her eyes, “You can stop it. You can save Wartwood right now, all it will cost you is one life…”

With a hiss, the energy bolt dissipated. With a grunt of satisfaction, the Dark King released his grip letting Marcy fall to the deck. He sneered, “Don’t feel too bad, Cameron didn’t have the strength to do it either.” He cocked his head to the side, “though, you’re in far better shape than he was after his attempt.” A cruel snicker escaped his lips, “gave him the classic Andrias treatment.” Holding his hands up he jabbed his right index finger through his left hand in a puncturing motion. Kneeling down he placed a hand under Marcy’s chin, “Do you understand yet Marcy? My victory is inevitable, the prophecy bends to my will, all because you do not have the will to do what it takes to stop me. Your electron scrambler ploy failed, you know there’s only one way to stop me… and you just let the best chance you’ll ever get slip through your fingers…”

Swallowing hard Marcy tried to keep up her brave face, “I will save Cameron.”

The Dark King rose, throwing back his head with laughter, “Were such a thing possible (which it isn’t) I’d scare say there’s anything left to save.” He tapped his head, “The poor boy’s gone a bit dormant since our encounter.”

Marcy was about to respond but a sudden gust of air and the roar of engines sounding through the bay cut her off. Daylight poured onto the deck at the doors slip open revealing a beautiful green landscape rushing past the ship. The Dark King’s eyes dilated, compensating for the sudden increase in light. Walking over to the edge of the deck he clasped his hands behind his back, “ah… it seems we’ve arrived.”

Marcy rose slowly, walking over to the edge of the deck beside the Dark King she could feel her heart sink as a familiar sight hove into view. Wartwood.

Sasha sprinted through the tunnels of the resistance base. Most of the resistance had been evacuated long ago but a skeleton crew remained to wipe out any traces the enemy could use to track them to their new base. The decision to move camp had only been made yesterday, with copious protests from the other resistance leaders. None of them were protesting now. As she ran she fastened her belt and scabbards around her waist, “How many ships did Sprig see?”

Anne followed close behind her, also affixing her own scabbard, “At least a dozen, all heading straight for Wartwood.”

As the two girls ran out into the main hall of the base Sasha spied Grime though the small crowd of resistance warriors. Weaving though the crowd she gave a quick salute, “what’s the status of the evacuation Grime?”

The former toad captain grimaced, “There are some stragglers, but given how short notice all of this was I’d say we’re doing very well.”

Sasha looked around at the bustling resistance members, “alright, keep up the good work Grime. Anne and I are going above ground to keep watch with the Plantars.”

Grime nodded, “be careful lieutenant.”

Anne put her hand on Sasha’s shoulder, “Don’t worry we will be.”

Above ground Sprig watched as the black ships fanned out above Wartwood. The young frog had been exposed to plenty of frobots over the last few weeks he’d been back in Amphibia, but these ships gave him pause. The usual pompousness of the frobot army was missing from their design, they were angular and angry looking, more akin to something herons would design rather than amphibian. The sound of a breaking twig caused him to spin around, slingshot raised. A voice called out to him in a whispered tone.

“Sprig, it’s us!”

Lowering his slingshot at the familiar voice Sprig called back, “Hop Pop! Are Anne and Sasha with you?”

Anne scrambled out from underneath the brush with Hop Pop, Polly, and Sasha close behind. She crawled over beside Sprig, “Yep. What’s the news?”

Sprig shrugged, “They’re just kinda hanging out, maybe they’re waiting for something to move?”

Sasha suddenly grabbed both of them and pulled them into a bush as a dark shape flew overhead above the tree line. Together they watched silently as two other groups of ships arrived above Wartwood. Sasha began counting them and cursed, prompting Hop Pop to cover Polly’s ears, “that’s about thirty now. It’s a miracle they didn’t spot us or the base.”

Sprig shielded the sun from his eyes as he watched the ships, “they’re taking up some kind of formation. What are they-” He was cut short as a series of explosions rippled across Wartwood. The five of them dropped flat. Even with the town far out of sight debris out be seen flying through the air, the detonations throwing up plumes of smoke and the shattered remnants of buildings. Sasha let out another curse.

The bombardment continued, rhythmically shaking the very ground the onlooker stood on as the ships went about their systematic obliteration of the town with ruthless efficiency. Turning her gaze away from the spectacle of destruction Anne spotted three ships break off from the fleet, their trajectory putting them on a direct course to the Plantar household, “look!”

Hop Pop made to rise but Sasha grabbed his collar and kept him down. The elderly frog was red in the face with indignant rage, “Those no-good rust bucket barbarians, how dare they destroy my home!”

Sasha held onto Hop Pop, grunting with exertion as he squirmed, “What do you care?! Chuck rebuilds that thing every other week!”

“It’s about the principle!”

With help from Anne, Sasha managed to pull Hop Pop back down. Peering up she watched the ships draw closer, with a start she realized they were flying in low, “they’re coming in to land!”

Hop Pop stopped struggling, “what?” They all fell silent as the ships approached the Plantar house, flying low and dropping speed.

Anne shook he head, “They’re looking for trails.”

Sprig chuckled, “Well tough luck screw brains, that’s a dead end!”

Sasha nodded, “Grime and I cleaned the place out of anything useful when we moved the resistance to the tunnels.” Catching the evil eye Hop Pop was giving her Sasha glared back, “We didn’t break anything! All we took were the notes about the tunnels and some food.”

Anne glanced over at the two of them, “can we do this later? They’re landing!” Sure enough, one of the ships was touching down on the road in front of the house, thrusters charring the grass and vegetation. Above it, the other two ships opened their bays and a series of frobots in midnight black paint flew out and took up sentry positions around the house. They were of the same model as the invisible one that had hunted Anne back on Earth. Anne drew her sword, “This is a special escort, whoever’s in that ship has got to be the new commander. Let’s get in there and knock their block off!”

Sasha grabbed Anne’s arm, “hold up Boonchuy. There’s a whole armada out there, you might be able to take them, but the rest of us are just going to get caught up in the bombardment.” Softly, she pulled Anne back down into hiding beside her, “let’s just keep watching for now.”

As if on cue, the boarding ramp of the ship opened and more dark-frobots marched out, lining the walkway to the Plantar house like a guard of honour. Everyone turned their eyes to the walkway as two final figures exited the ship. Both were clad in the same black metal as the frobots and wore flowing black and red cloaks but were distinctly humanoid in shape. Anne peered through the undergrowth that blocked her view. There was something familiar about the two figures, but she couldn’t quite pin down what.

She turned to Sasha, “Hey Sasha I can’t see too well from here, what about you-” She trailed off when she turned to see Sasha standing bolt upright. With a flash of blue light, Anne was across from her. She tackled Sasha, bringing both girls crashing to the ground. As swiftly as it had appeared the blue glow faded. Anne never thought she’d be grateful for the sound of explosions, but in this case, it would cover up any noise they made. He wiped her brow, “Woah, I don’t think I’ve ever transformed that fast…” she trailed off.

Sasha’s face was pale, and her eyes were wide and unblinking. She could hear Anne’s voice dully over the rumble of explosions, but it sounded miles away.

It’s Cam. Cam is the new commander, and he has Marcy with him.

A million thoughts whirled through her mind. This had to be some kind of trick. Had Andrias somehow convinced Cam to join him? No, it was impossible. He would never turn on them. Right? He was her big brother; he couldn’t turn on her... And what about Marcy? Last time she’d seen Marcy she’d been…

Sasha was suddenly brought back to reality as Anne shook her violently.

“Sash! Snap out of it!”

“C-Cam. Cam’s over there. Marcy too.”

Prisoners. That was the only explanation that made sense…”

Anne froze then let go of Sasha and peaked over the bush to get a better view. In an instant turned back and huddled down, clutching her knees to her chest. The two girls locked eyes, panic and confusion communicated in an instant.

Polly, who had been hiding further back with Frobo hopped excitedly, “Alright then let’s bust some frobot butt and save them! I bet we can do it before those other ships even notice!”

Hop Pop held out his hands, “hold on Polly, I think this might be a little more complicated than all that.”

Sasha bit her lip, “it’s got to be a trick, Cam and Marcy wouldn’t be helping them.”

Anne’s face tightened into a scowl, “Yeah! They’re prisoners, got to be!”

Sasha nodded, confidence returning slightly, “so let’s break them out. We still can’t risk drawing the fleet’s attention… Anyone got any ideas?”

Sprig held up his hand, “did you guys have any secret codes or sounds that only you guys knew? Like how me and Ivy have our baby heron calls.” Puffing his chest out Sprig let out a loud squawk, “Like that see? I can do it again if you didn’t get it.”

Polly shoved a wad of grass in his mouth as he opened it again, “be quiet dork!”

Anne looked at Sasha, “Codes were always Marcy’s thing, and we have handshakes, but I don’t think that would help here… did you and Cameron do anything like that?”

Sasha though for a moment, “not really… but I do have an idea. We both got into birds watching one summer and I was pretty good at mimicking some of their calls.”

Anne’s face lit up, “oh yeah, I remember that.” She chuckled, “I’m pretty sure your dad was about to throttle you when you kept doing them around the house.”

Sasha chuckled too, “yeah that was the year he finally bought noise cancelling headphones. Anyway, I bet if I do one Cam would recognize it’s me. After that I’m sure he and Marcy can figure out a way to send a message to us. So, we’ll wait for them to come up with a plan.”

Anne nodded enthusiastically, “great! Let’s do it.”

Sasha looked back over at the Plantar house, Cameron and Marcy had gone inside along with several frobots, “First, we’ll have to get closer.”

The Dark King wiped a layer of dust off of the kitchen table, “Well it was worth the check. Hop Pop wouldn’t let the place get like this if he could help it, they aren’t hiding out in Wartwood.” He strode back to the living room where Marcy was waiting, “I don’t suppose anyone mentioned a secret hideout to you while you stayed here?”

Marcy remained silent; her eyes cast down to the floor.

“You’re clever to remain silent.” The Dark King raised her chin so their eyes met, “you could give me a made-up spot, but I’d ask for a rationale behind it.” He smirked, “…and if you gave a good one you run the risk of being right.” He let her chin fall back down, “It doesn’t matter, I have means of drawing them out.” He turned to the frobots, “Start a fire but start it small, give it plenty of time to burn. I doubt even the Plantars would be stupid enough to break cover to save their home, but there’s no harm trying.”

Suddenly a sharp sound caused the Dark King to freeze, “belay that order!” He stood stock still, listening intently as the bombardment continued in the background. His patience was rewarded as another bird call sounded out, barely audible against the backdrop of detonations. He grinned and turned to a frobot by Marcy, “Gag her.”

Marcy looked up in shock. She opened her mouth to protest but then a cloth gag was violently tied over her mouth and a rope bound her arms to her sides. The Dark King shrugged apologetically, “Sorry Marcy, but I can’t have you mouthing off at the moment.” He coughed slightly, as if clearing his throat, then shouted aloud, “Hey! Leave Marcy alone! Please! I’ll show you exactly where the resistance is hiding, there’s a secret hideout just south of here! I’ll take you there!” His voice lacked the usual Core echoes or robotic inflections, he sounded like Cameron.

Marcy’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening. Somehow Sasha and Anne were close by, and now, they were being led into a trap. She struggled against her bindings, desperately trying to shout aloud but the gag held firm.

Another bird call ran out. The Dark King grinned maliciously at Marcy, “hook, line, and sinker.” He turned to the assembled frobots, “escort us to sector fifty-four, make a good show of knocking us about.”

Holding out his hand he gestured to another frobot, “Collar, quickly.”

As a mind shackle collar was handed to him the Dark King eyes turned to Marcy, an evil grin on his lips, “can’t have you spoiling the surprise. Don’t worry I’ll take this off once the damage is done. Now hold her still.”

Marcy’s eyes were wide with terror as the Dark King advanced, collar open. She redoubled her efforts, struggling against her captors but to no avail. With a click of the metal clasp, she went limp. As she fell to the ground the Dark King stroked his facial hair contemplatively, trying to match Cameron’s natural demeanour. Seeing Marcy rising from the floor, eyes glowing purple with the telltale signs of the mind shackle collar he grinned, “Pull the hood up, and keep quiet. Alright everyone, let’s go.”

As the frobots marched them out of the house The Dark King scanned the wilderness, many eyes darting back and forth between pockets of foliage. Catching the flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his many eyes, he hid a grin. As expected, Sasha’s guilt made her far too predictable.

He couldn’t help himself; a small giggle escaped his lips.

This was going to be fun.

Chapter Text

Sasha ducked her head down, “I think they got the message; I heard Cameron say he was taking them to a ‘hideout’ south of here.” She held her hands up making quotation marks in the air.

Sprig scratched his head, “but the tunnels start beneath the basement.”

Anne rapped her knuckles on Sprig’s head, “And did you want Cameron to lead them there?”

Sprig rubbed the top of his head, “Right… but why south?”

Before Anne or Sasha could reply Hop Pop brought his closed fist down on his open palm making a dull thump as his eyes lit up in realization, “of course, the ravine!”

Sasha nodded, “a perfect ambush spot, Cameron knows what he’s doing.”

Polly cracked her knuckles, “then what are we waiting for? Let’s kick some frobot butt!” She paused at the sound of a sad whirr beneath her feet, “Sorry Frobo; let’s kick some evil frobot butt!”

“So, which one do you think they’ll take out first?” Marcy didn’t respond, her motionless form and bowed head beneath the hood of her cloak made her seem more like a scarecrow than a flesh and blood person. The cloak hid her features well, there was only the faintest glow of purple visible to betray the presence of the mind-shackle collar around her neck. From his sitting position on a log beside her, the Dark King sighed, “My money’s on the one underneath the tree there.” He gestured up the slopes of the ravine to where a cloak-bot was standing guard, “the undergrowth gives good cover to stow the body and the tree introduces a blind spot in the sentry’s field of vision.”

He glanced at Marcy, still standing stock-still beside him. The Dark King sighed in mock frustration, “Would it kill you to engage in some light banter?” he smirked and put a finger to his lips, “Oh silly me, I suppose it would. Those collars are quite twisted little machines, aren’t they? The more you struggle the more they tighten their grip on your mind. Even a meagre utterance without its permission would give you an aneurysm.”

He studied her face, watching the minute twitches in it beneath the hood. A single crystal tear rolled down Marcy’s cheek. A wicked grin spread across the Dark King’s features, “wow, that must have been painful.” He turned back to watching the frobots, waving his hand dismissively, “Oh get over yourself, all things considered, you’re quite fortunate. Olivia and Yunan have been shackled for months.” His eyes dilated as he spotted a flash of blonde hair through a minuscule hole in the undergrowth, “besides… should events proceed according to my designs you’ll be freed of that thing rather soon.”

“Yes… freed.” The Dark King smiled as he heard the slight twitches Marcy was making cease, “Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’m not being facetious. I’m going to let them rescue you.” He paused as if listening for her response before continuing, “Why? Because you’re not a threat to me, Marcy. Because as my future host, I want you out in the world stretching those mental muscles of yours.” He chuckled, “Cameron knew you pretty well after all. So, I know your every move before you make it. Fear makes you predictable, and you are too smart to not be afraid of me…”

The Dark King glanced up once more at the sentries, “Now, we know at least Sash’s up there. I wonder if the whole gang’s up there too… If it’s just Sash and Anne they’ll take out the one under the tree and the one to the left of it. Anne could blitz it with her calamity powers without raising too much of an alarm. If the Plantars are with them I think they’ll team up to take down the sentry on the south side, Sprig stuns it with a shot from his slingshot, then Polly and Hop Pop drag it into the underbrush nearby to finish it off. And, If Grime is with them, he’ll rush down the last one and crush its skull with his hammer, no fuss no muss.”

The Dark King sat in silence then, eyes fixed on the tree line. The quiet that filled the ravine was undercut by the dull rumble of explosion echoing through the woods, a grim reminder of the destruction being wrought upon Wartwood. He did not have to wait long.

A flash of silver and pink decapitated the cloak-bot beneath the tree its body neatly collapsing into the undergrowth. SSwivellinghis head left the Dark King watched as another unit vanished from view in a flash of blue light. He nodded and glanced over his right shoulder. Sure enough, the cloak-bot staggered suddenly before vanishing into the bush to the sound of something striking metal in rapid succession. He didn’t turn his head to the final sentry, instead listening intently. Nothing.

“No Grime then… pity.”

The final cloak-bot retreated down into the ravine, back peddling towards the Dark King and Marcy as its eyes scanned for assailants. The Dark King’s features shifted, losing the cruel glint in favour of a determined scowl. With explosive ferocity, his gauntleted fist shot out. Entering the rear of the cloak-bot’s cranium it carried on through, emerging from the frobot’s face covered in black oil and tangled with sparking wires. Withdrawing his fist, he called up to the woods, as before the underlying voices of the Core were absent, “Don’t worry, I got him! Thanks for the assist guys!”

Reaching down to his belt and turning to Marcy the Dark King’s features instantly shifted back to cruel amusement. Pulling out a small cylinder with coral-like designs embellishing it he handed it to Marcy, “now, before I cut you lose…” Closing her fingers around the laser dagger’s hilt he grinned, “why don’t you be a good girl, and do as much damage as possible?”

“Cam!” Sasha slid down the side of the ravine, Anne and the Plantars following close behind. Reaching the bottom, she brought her momentum under control with a few short shuffling steps, bringing her to a halt. There he was, after over two months she had found her big brother, safe and sound.

He threw his hands out wide for a hug, “Sash!”

Behind her, Sasha overheard Polly whisper to Sprig, “What’s up with the evil do-up?” She couldn’t really argue with the tadpole’s assessment. Cameron was clad in form-fitting black armour made up of a series of flexible metal plates laid over some kind of high-tech body suit. She could make out servos between his joints and could hear their soft purr as he moved. Across his shoulders was fastened a long flowing cloak. The exterior was again pitch black like his armour, but its interior was a visceral crimson. This was not what unsettled her, however. On Cameron’s head and indeed covering all but his lower face was a helmet. Made from the same materiel as his armour it was adorned with three pairs of horns that seemed to bear resemblance to axolotl gills. These circled the sides of the helmet, giving Cameron a distinctly demonic appearance, which was compounded by the complex of glowing orange eyes that stared back at her unblinking.

Anne stepped up beside Sasha, “Marcy! You’re alright!”

Sasha shifted her gaze; she’d been so distracted by Cameron’s appearance that’d she’d completely forgotten about Marcy. Marcy’s wardrobe change was not nearly as extensive, but no less sinister. Like Cameron she wore the form fitting black armour and cloak, but she’d pulled her hood up over her head, obscuring her features beneath the shadow cast by the dark fabric.

Gingerly Sasha took a step forward. This was her brother, even if she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew without a shadow of a doubt it was him. His posture, his voice, his smile, even the short bristly beard he’d grown over the course of their adventures in amphibia. It had grown even longer, having properly filled out into a bushy mane of blonde hair. It was Cameron, and he’d always been there for her. All she wanted in the world was to run forward, wrap him in a hug and never let go.

So what’s wrong?

She could feel it. A voice at the back of her mind shouting at her, telling her to run. You are in danger, that’s what her instincts screamed, you need to flee. Swallowing hard Sasha took another step forward, “I-is Marcy alright? She hasn’t said anything.”

Cameron sighed, “she’s a little overwhelmed.” Holding his hand up to the side of his mouth Cameron spoke out the side of his mouth hoarsely, “I think she blames herself for a lot of this.”

“It was never your fault Marcy!” Anne stepped forward, eyes filled with concern and voice laden with emotion, “please don’t blame yourself, I know you never meant to hurt us.” She took another step forward, “Sasha and I talked, and we realize we treated you unfairly. Now that you’re back, we can start to make things right, together.” Anne elbowed Sasha, “right, Sash?”

Sasha’s eyes were locked with Cameron’s, or at least the mess of eye-shaped projections on his helmet.

Anne elbowed her again, “Right, Sash?”

“Cam… W-what happened to you?” Sasha’s voice was small, barely audible against the background roar of explosions.

A slow smile crept onto Cameron’s face, unlike the easy grin he’d been wearing earlier this one was cold and predatory. Sasha felt a chill run down her spine, “you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

Anne looked between Cameron and Sasha, her concern turning into a mild panic, “Okay, what’s going on? You two are freaking me out.”

In one fluid motion Sasha drew her pink heron blade, “something’s wrong Anne. Something’s very, very, wrong.”

“Let it never be said you can’t read people, Sash” Cameron straightened up, dropping his arms from their hug inviting position. He stood in a power stance, shoulder back, arms slightly out at his sides, fists clenched. He tilted his head, grinning, “so what’s your plan now?”

“Who are you!” Sasha’s sword was up in a flash, tip shaking. Her heart was racing, and her breathing was irregular, causing her whole body to shake, “W-what have you done with Cameron?”

“I suppose you deserve an answer…” Cameron raised his right hand, “but I think we should have some privacy, don’t you?” He snapped his fingers.

One more cloak-bot de-cloaked behind the group, seizing Sprig in its robotic claws. Just as swiftly as it struck it vanished, dragging the young frog up the side of the ravine as he wailed, “Waaa! Let go of me you see-through jerk!”

“No, Sprig!” Anne turned to follow but Cameron’s voice caused her to pause.

“I’d worry about yourself Anne, you’re about to have your hands full.” His grin split into a demented toothy smile, “Marcy if you’d be so kind, kill Anne Boonchuy.”

Sasha let out a shriek of shock as Marcy darted forward. She moved like a puppet, jerky and unnatural, arms flopping at her side as she ran. Blue light flashed and suddenly Anne was holding Marcy’s wrist with both hands, the tip of a laser dagger inches from her face.

Hop Pop and Polly dithered on the spot, torn between Anne and Sprig. Anne’s eyes were wide with panic but her voice held steady, “help Sprig, I’ll be fine!”

“But Anne-”

“Just go!” Gritting her teeth Anne cut Hop Pop off. She dropped out of her calamity state, retreating away from the dagger, causing Marcy to stumble forward. Hopping backward, Anne drew her sword.

*Hisss*

Marcy retaliated fast, slashing at Anne with a horizontal blow that brought the dagger into contact with Anne’s blade. The upper half of the blade clattered to the ravine’s floor. Anne muttered the curse she’d heard Sasha say earlier as she continued to fall back.

The Dark King held his hands behind his back, totally unbothered as Sasha Waybright drew ever closer, twin heron blades at the ready. He’d hoped to get a cheap shot in on her if she’d come in for a hug, but this was good enough. Sash was off her game, the tips of the heron blades were trembling, and her advancing footwork was laboured, betraying the jelly feeling in her legs she was no doubt experiencing. He pursed his lips in amusement, no point drawing his weapon, that would end things too quickly.

“Answer me! Who are you!? What did you do to my brother!?” Sash’s voice was firm, but the undercurrent of fear laced into her words was unmistakable.

He took a step forward, judging the distance precisely, “Mother Olm didn’t tell you about me? How irresponsible of her…” He paused as recognition sparked in Sasha’s eyes, “or, perhaps not…”

“The unnatural thing…” Sasha’s words were hushed, speaking more to herself than to the Dark King.

“Eh, close enough. You may refer to me as the Dark King of this and every world.” He tilted his head to the other side and leered at her, “Fitting, isn’t it, that both Waybright siblings hold a royal title? Tell me, blood sister, how did you dupe these poor villagers into accepting your rule? Especially after everything you did to them?”

“I’m not…” Sasha's face twitched at the Dark King’s comment, “I’m not a tyrant! They chose me as their leader!”

“Girl…” The Dark King shook his head in mock disbelief, “You’re wearing a crown.”

Sasha froze for a moment, mouth opening and closing in search of a response. Finally, she gritted her teeth and took one more step forward, blades held at the ready, “Enough of this! Now, for the last time. What did you do with my brother?”

“I made use of him. Surely you can understand that? I mean you did it all the time…” The Dark King stepped to the right; arms still clasped behind his back. He began circling Sasha as a shark might a seal, “chauffeur, fall guy, general… truly, you had him working a vast range of positions.” His smile widened as he saw shame and rage building in Sasha’s eyes, “He was perfect for my needs. A smart, athletic, and aggressive young man; what more could one ask for in a host? And to think… it’s all thanks to you…”

Sasha’s knuckles were white from the furious grip with which she held her blades. She rotated as the Dark King circled her, guard held at the ready, “what are you talking about?”

“Okay maybe Marcy deserves a little bit of the credit too, but honestly, without your little rebellion things would have gone south for Andrias real fast.” The Dark King chuckled, “I mean, can you imagine how screwed he’d have been if the three of you plus Cameron jumped him? Back then we didn’t know Anne had her calamity powers, it’d have been a total wash. But fortunately, you broke everyone up… and left Cameron all alone. All for your own delusions of grandeur.”

With a wild yell, Sasha threw herself forward, rage blinding her she struck out frantically with both blades. Without even so much as flinching the Dark King weaved side to side, effortlessly avoiding her wide swings. He chuckled, “Good… I was wondering when I’d strike a nerve.” He danced backward, jerking her head back to avoid another one of her strikes, “This is really just equivalent exchange though. I get your brother, you get your shot at redemption…” Raising his left arm the Dark King deflected a slash off his vambrace, “I mean seriously Sash, you’d still be the villain of this ‘story’ if I didn’t exist. Honestly, your brother’s body and soul was a bargain of a deal seeing how much love and respect you’ve accrued despite all the pain you’ve caused.”

“Shut up!”

“Well, that’s me told.”

“I’ll destroy you!” Sasha leapt into the air, blades raised for a decapitation strike.

“No.” the blow came fast, and precise. One moment the Dark King had been fluidly dodging, hands still held behind his back, the next he was retracting his fist from her solar plexus. “No. You will not.” Sasha fell to the ground, wind completely knocked out of her. As she lay gasping on the ground the Dark King loomed over her, “Going for the decapitation strike against your own flesh and blood… you’re letting the mask slip a bit there Sash.”

Crawling backward and scrambling to her feet Sasha looked into the myriad cruel orange eyes, her own filled with panic and horror, “no… I-I didn’t mean…”

“No of course not. Just like Marcy, you don’t have the stomach for it, even if your rage brings you closer to it than her.” The Dark King began advancing towards her, “but that’s only part of the reason you never stood a chance.”

Sasha tried to pull away, but the Dark King was already upon her. She brought her blades up in a defensive guard. With terrifying precision, the Dark King reached out and gripped the guard of her silver heron blade, held in her right hand. As she swung her pink blade towards his side, she felt herself pulled forward violently.

The Dark King yanked hard on the silver blade’s hit. His right hand wrapped around Sasha’s own he pulled towards himself and down. At the same time, his right knee came up, planting once again into Sasha’s solar plexus. One final yank pulled the silver blade free from her grip. As she fell to the ground he kicked viciously, sending her rolling across the floor of the ravine, coming to a rest at the base of its slope a few meters away.

The Dark King examined the blade. It was slightly too short for his size and the grip was a bit too slim for his hand, it had clearly been designed with Sasha in mind as its wielder. Tossing the sword between his hands, the Dark King glanced over at the slowly rising Sasha, “Mom and Dad always said you were a tough cookie.” Catching the heron blade in his right hand he twirled it elaborately in a dissing pattern, casually expressing thousands of years of swordsmanship in a single maneuver, “let’s see how far that gets you…”

To say Anne was having a bad day would be an understatement. She’d brushed off the destruction of Wartwood quite well considering it had been her home for most of the last year. To be fair though, the place had been in ruins for quite some time, the lengths the fleet was going to were theatrics more than anything else, and most of the buildings collapsed in the shockwaves of the first salvo. On top of that, the revelation that Cameron and Marcy were alive had more than made up for the loss of amphibian real estate, but of course, things couldn’t be that simple…

“Aw come on… not the sword too.” Dropping the now useless hilt, Anne danced backwards, leaping over fallen trees and boulders to avoid Marcy’s questing blade. Vaulting over a low-hanging log Anne fell into a roll as she tugged her arm to her side, narrowly avoiding a downward stab aimed at her hand. Spitting out leaves she glared up at ‘Marcy’ who was starting to clamber over the log, “Do you know how I can tell you’re not the real Mar-Mar?” Rising to her feet Anne ducked behind a mossy boulder, “Marcy would have tripped over her feet twice before she got over that log.”

Her pursuer didn’t reply. She rolled off the log, and sprang up effortlessly, resuming the chase.

Anne stuck her tongue out, “she’d also have laughed at that remark…” Running over towards a tree she leapt into the air, grabbing onto the trunk about halfway up. Grunting with effort she pulled herself up into its branches. Seeing faux-Marcy was still a little way away Anne surveyed the scene around her. It wasn’t good.

At the top of the ravine Hop Pop, Polly, and Frobo were desperately trying to free Sprig from the cloak-bot’s grasp. The machine had the young frog clutched firmly in its clawed hand. Polly was dancing around on its shoulders, punching its face as she avoided swipes from its free hand. Hop Pop was holding Frobo like a boombox above his head, chasing after the cloak-bot as the friendly frobot fired bursts of laser fire from its eyes. Parts of the woods had already caught fire, they couldn’t stay here for long.

Below Sasha was standing across from Cameron. Or at least… that's who he looked like. He certainly didn’t talk like Cameron when he ordered Marcy to kill her. Sasha was advancing slowly, blades at the ready, if a little shaky.

The snapping of branches snapped Anne back to her own problems. The Marcy thing was climbing the tree. Leaning out to see better Anne called down to her, “Are you sure you wanna do this? I have the high ground after all!”

Marcy’s head tiled upward, though most her face was still shrouded in the shadow cast by her hood the lower features of her face were revealed. Completely expressionless. Anne sighed, “not even a Star Wars reference…” a glint caught her eye causing her to trail off. It was only visible for an instant, but she swore she saw a faint purple glow beneath Marcy’s hood.

She didn’t have much time to process this information however as Marcy swiped at the branch she was standing on, partially severing it. Lunging for another branch Anne barely managed to snag it. The limb bent, sending Anne swinging out for the tree. Releasing her grip she landed hard on the ravine’s slope. Scrambling to her feet she scarpered up the side, rolling onto the lip of the ravine to catch her breath. Heart pounding in her ears Anne watched as Marcy slid down the tree and began ascending the slope.

She had a plan now. Well not really, more like a single idea and no real backup plan if it failed. Sure, she could transform into her calamity state and finish this in one punch but if that was Marcy she didn’t want to hurt her. Also, she’d been conservative with her powers up until now, not just for stealth reasons. The powers drained her, after even five minutes of use she felt like she’d run a marathon or played a five-hour tennis match. With both the nearby fleet and whatever was going on with Cameron she couldn’t afford to be comatose.

Still, she would need the powers, Marcy’s movements were erratic and unpredictable. Anne was faster, but all it would take would be one unexpected strike and things would take a bad turn fast. A quick burst of speed, that’s what she needed. Rising to her feet Anne took a deep breath and planted her left foot forward, adopting her Muay Thai stance.

Marcy appeared over the side of the ravine. She didn’t bother pausing to catch her breath, instead charging directly at Anne, dagger held low. Taking one more deep breath Anne relaxed her shoulders and brought her thumbs up to her eyebrows. She watched as Marcy drew closer, waiting… poised for the moment she got… right… There!

Blue light flashed and Anne was on top of Marcy, pinning her hand with the dagger firmly to the ground. Reaching out with her free hand Anne tore the hood away from her friend’s face. A grin lit up her face, “I knew it!”

A collar affixed with glowing purple bulbs was secured tight around Marcy’s neck. The same purple light bled from her eyes which gazed blankly up at Anne. She reached towards the collar, “Let’s get this thing off you Mar-Mar.” Marcy's other hand raised to her face, covering it from view partially. Anne chuckled, “Aw don’t be embarrassed, you put up a pretty good fight.” She paused noticing the weapon attachment, “Hey is that a new crossbow? How come everyone else gets cool weapons and I’m going to be stuck swinging around a tennis racket?”

Marcy’s nose touched the crossbow, she pulled her hand up, running her nose along the barrel. Anne raised an eyebrow, “do you have a runny nose or…?” A bolt formed in the bow, blazing with energy. Anne’s features fell as Marcy turned it towards her, “yeah… should have seen that coming.”

The arrow missed her by less than an inch. Anne scampered back, pulling back up into her Muay Thai once more. She grimaced as Marcy rose, purple eyes staring at her unblinking as she nocked a new arrow in her energy crossbow and brandished her dagger, “Okay… maybe this will be a bit tougher than I thought…”

Chapter Text

Sprig did his best to retract his head down into his body as yet another laser bolt blew a chunk out of the cloak-bot’s metal hide, “Gah! I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose!”

“Confounded…” Hop Pop closed one eye as he swiveled Frobo around atop his shoulders, aiming like a soldier might a shoulder mounted launcher, “Sorry Sprig, but this bucket of bolts won’t shoot straight.”

Polly momentarily released her jaws from the cloak-bot’s leg to defend her robotic pal, “Hey! Don’t let me catch you bad-mouthing Frobo!”

Hop Pop grimaced another beam from Frobo’s eyes whiffed past the cloak-bot, burning a hole in a tree behind it, “This is what I get for using new-fangled junk…”

The response came in stereo.

“He’s older than you!”

“He’s older than you!”

Though he couldn’t see Frobo’s ocular sensors Hop Pop could sense he was on the receiving end of a serious side-eye glare, “Yeah… well… It’s not the right kind of old!”

Anne sprinted through the woods, unimpeded by the confines of the ravine she could now put her athletic advantage over Marcy into full effect. She knew this territory well, having grown quite familiar with it over the summer she’d spent romping around it with Sprig and occasionally Polly and Hop Pop. She smiled, her destination sighted, “Bingo.” With an impressive leap, Anne cleared an old log, landing behind it into a thicket of dense brush that made her practically invisible to passers-by, “I hope Sprig doesn’t mind me stealing his hiding spot…”

Peaking through the foliage Anne narrowed her eyes as the dark figure hove into view. Marcy was covered in bits of vegetation and vine, all slightly scorched, evidently by the laser dagger she was still brandishing as she ran. Anne grimaced, perhaps it was a good thing Marcy was under a mind control collar right now, the thought of Marcy running with a knife didn’t bring many cheerful images to her mind. Without pause, Marcy ran past Anne’s hiding space, hacking and slashing at the dense undergrowth to clear a path of travel.

Anne let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. As the sounds of bushwhacking grew more distant, she sat up and bit her lip. She had an idea, though she wasn’t hastened to call it a good idea. The irregular drumbeat from the bombardment of Wartwood masked any sounds quieter than running footsteps. Now that Marcy had lost her trail it should be a simple matter to sneak up and ambush her.

Crouching low Anne scrambled out of the thicket and darted over to a nearby tree for cover. Peaking out from behind it she noted the flashes of yellow light and the sounds of cracking timber further in the woods. Just as she was about to advance the sounds stopped and the light faded. Anne froze, waiting, but no more noise came. Aside from the dull roar of explosions in the distance the woods were silent, eerily so. Any fauna with two wits to rub together had fled hours ago, leaving the forest still and empty.

Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath, fighting down her instincts and screaming at her to run to safety. Anne gritted her teeth and furrowed her brow, “hide and seek skills… don’t fail me now.” Slipping out from behind her tree, Anne advanced gingerly into the woods.

**

The passage of time as a consistent measure was completely lost on Anne. Seconds passed as hours, each instant stretching into eternity as she slowly made her way through the Wartwood woods. Unable to rely on her ears she was forced to take note of every slight movement in the world around her. A branch bobbing in a sudden gust, a miniature beetle landing on a nearby leaf, the shifting of a sunbeam in response to a passing cloud, she picked up it all. Every shadow was Marcy, crouched in some odd position. Waiting, watching, ready to strike the moment she let her attention wander.

Sweat ran down Anne’s brow. Furiously she wiped it away, blinking hard as some got in her eye. That flash of light, was it the afternoon sun reflecting off a puddle leftover from yesterday’s rainfall or was it the glint of Marcy’s laser dagger, as she moved in for the kill? Rising into a position halfway between standing up straight and crouching Anne inched forward, heart pounding. Behind all the normal stress of hunting a person in the woods, she was battling to keep her calamity powers leashed. Stress, combined with a desire to protect her friends and family, was the activation switch of her powers. The last thing she needed now was to light up like a lightbulb in the middle of the forest.

Movement.

Anne froze mid-stride, not breathing, not blinking. She’d seen it, in the corner of her eye. Too large to be a bug or random leaf fall. With glacial speed, Anne turned her head towards a copse off to her left. Her heart pounded in her chest, drowning out the background beat of explosions as it roared in her ears.

Again.

A shadow darted between trees, the tip of a black cloak flicking a bush as it passed.

She’s seen it, for sure this time. The flash of black in the undergrowth a few dozen meters off to her left. Lower herself closer to the ground Anne made note of the direction Marcy was traveling in. She was circling back towards the thicket in which, unknown to her, Anne had given her the slip. Sucking in a short breath Anne began backtracking, now that she knew where Marcy was going, she’d be able to intercept. Simple, right?

Anne bit her tongue, literally biting back the snarky comment she was about to make to herself. This was no time for goofing around.

It didn’t take long before she had eyes on Marcy once more. Pressed against a tree she watched intently as the dark figure picked its way through the undergrowth; deactivated dagger held firmly at the ready. Like earlier her movements were puppet like and uncoordinated yet somehow still graceful. She moved fluidly, organically, never pausing to search her surroundings but rather constantly turning her head as she scanned the woods for Anne.
Anne had picked her hiding position well. A thick trunked dead giant of a tree, it was draped in hanging moss and vines, offering plenty of cover. It also happened to be directly on Marcy’s search path. Likely, whatever was making decisions for Marcy had identified the tree as a good hiding spot too and was keen to flush anyone hiding in there out.

Silently as she could, Anne climbed up to one of the lower branches of the tree. She froze as it creaked slightly, clutching onto the main trunk for fear of the branch snapping, however, it held. Delicately, Anne moved to the next one, this time testing its strength with her foot before she placed her entire weight upon the limb.

There was a hiss as Marcy’s energy dagger activated and slashed a section of the moss away. The motion was smooth, with the weapon returning to its deactivated state as soon as the last strand of moss fell away. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day Anne held her breath. She was almost directly above Marcy now, barely two meters higher up on the tree, poised to drop onto her friend’s head.

She inched forward, trying to get a better position.

*Creeeeeaaaaak*
Marcy’s head snapped upward. Their eyes locked. The purple glow behind Marcy’s reflected in Anne’s own. Anne dropped.

The two girls hit the floor like sacks of flour. They rolled across the floor, moss and vines from the dead tree tangling into their hair and getting into their mouths. Anne spat out a wad of moss, filled with small insects that were now biting her cheek. Ignoring the pain she grapple with the dagger that was inches away from her nose, its yellow glow illuminating both her and Marcy’s faces.

Marcy’s face was expressionless, it stared back at her blankly, heedless of the moss and bugs it was now practically wrapped in. The dagger’s tip shook violently as the two girls wrestled for it. As they came to a rest in a depression of the soil at the base of the tree Anne redirected her strength, shoving the dagger into the earth. The ground hissed and smoked in protest. Both hands firmly holding the dagger hilt Anne once more locked eyes with Marcy. She smiled apologetically, “Sorry about this Mar-Mar.”

Anne’s forehead rocketed into Marcy’s nose. Blood exploded out, peppering the small plants the girls were rolling on. Feeling Marcy’s grip on the dagger loosen Anne tugged sharply, the weapon was sent flying, landing several feet away, the still active blade charring the dirt beneath it. As Marcy’s hands raised up to her nose Anne pushed her over, “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!”

Wrapping Marcy in a headlock Anne began pulling at the collar around her neck. Marcy kicked and squirmed, throwing her own head back and connecting with Anne’s face. Blinking away the pain Anne gripped the collar with both hands. Pulling with all her might Anne let out a scream of excretion.

*Snap*

Anne’s hands flew apart, half a collar held firmly in each one. Silence fell, broken only by the heavy breathing of both girls and the ongoing roar of bombardment.

Anne’s chest rose and fell in quick succession. She’d done it, all without her powers too. She glanced over at Marcy who was staring wide eyed into the sky. Taking a deep breath Anne sat up and reached over to Marcy, “Marcy?”

Marcy sat bolt upright and screamed. Her hands flew up to her mouth, stifling the scream. Her whole body shook, and her breaths could be heard rapidly pushing air through the gaps in her fingers. She yelped, pulling her hands away from her face she looked down at the blood that was pooling in her hands, “Oh no. Oh no nononono.”

“Marcy!” Anne reached over and took her hands, “It’s okay, you’re safe now!”

As she looked into Marcy’s eyes Anne’s heart caught in her throat. Sheer terror was reflected there, made all the worse by the flecks of blood across her face. Marcy stared wildly into Anne’s eyes, “w-who did I hurt? Whose blood is this?!”

Anne squeezed Marcy’s hands, “you didn’t hurt anyone, Marcy.”

“Then whose blood is this!” Marcy’s voice was shrill and panicked.

Anne shrugged apologetically, “It’s uh… it’s from your nose… I think I kinda broke it…”

Terror and panic were replaced almost instantly on Marcy’s face with confusion and then indignation, “You broke my nose?!”

“I’m really sorry Mar-Mar,” Anne gingerly held a hand up to her own features, “if it makes you feel any better, I think you almost broke mine…”

“Why would that make me feel better?!” Marcy held her hands up to her nose and winced, “Ouch, yeah that’s quite busted up.”

Anne rubbed her hands together nervously, “Is there anything I can do to help, like shouldn’t we stick stuff up your nostrils to straighten it or…”

Anne was cut off as Marcy raised her hand, her face becoming pale, “No. Where’s Sasha?”

Anne’s stomach twisted as she snapped back to the main crisis, “facing off against Cameron.”

“That’s not Cameron. Not really at least.” Marcy began slowly rising to her feet, the panic was returned to her voice, “she’s in big trouble Anne, really big trouble.”

Helping Marcy up Anne felt a chill run down her spine at the genuine horror behind Marcy’s eyes, “What’s going on? What happened to you two?”

Marcy shook her head, “it’ll take too long to explain.”

“Then give me the sparknotes.”

“Turns out Andrias has an evil robot boss. It’s using Cameron as a host. It calls itself the Dark King now.”

Anne’s mouth opened and then shut again. She shook her head, “what?”

“We don’t have time to go over everything Anne, Sasha is in a lot of danger. Is anyone else with you?”

Anne nodded, “Sprig, Polly, and Hop Pop. They’re dealing with an assassin frobot. Oh, Frobo’s here too.”

Picking up the fallen laser dagger Marcy clipped it onto her belt, “Great, I’ll go help them. You need to save Sasha.”

“You’re not going to help me against Cameron?”

Anne recoiled as Marcy turned, anger burning in her eyes, “That’s not Cameron!” She averted her gaze, swallowing hard, “B-besides, I already took my shot at the Dark King… It… it didn’t go well.”

Anne was about to respond when a chilling noise cut through the woods like a thunderbolt. She saw the blood drain from Marcy’s face and could feel her own heart skip a beat.

Marcy nodded to her frantically, “Go, Anne! I’ll help the others!”

Without hesitation blue light engulfed Anne’s form, rising from the ground she streaked off towards the ravine. The terrible noise filling her ears, driving her to ever greater speeds. Sasha was screaming.

The Dark King advanced, relentless, focused, grinning. Sasha’s blade struck out but was beaten back again and again. He parried an overhead swing with a casual upward flick and walked the point of her blade to the side as she aimed a thrust at her right flank. He was gaining ground, rapidly. The Dark King’s grin on Cameron’s lips split wider as Sasha flailed at him with her pink heron sword, “Not bad for a rank amateur Sash.” He didn’t even bother raising his sword to parry her next blow. He simply swayed to the side, watching with amusement as the blade flapped harmlessly against his armoured pauldron, “You can cross swords with the best of them. Tennis players that is.” He loosened up his shoulders, “I however…” with a lightning-fast motion he passed Sasha’s guard, landing a quick swipe on the exposed part of her left arm, “…can walk the walk.”

He laughed as Sasha yelped, clutching at the gash on her arm. It was thin, only skin deep, a precise blow. The Dark King stroked his beard as he smiled, “Armour is for war, not fashion, girl. Cover yourself up.”

Pulling her hand off her wound Sasha glared at him, “You’re toying with me…”

“I’m pulling my punches, like a responsible older brother should. Can’t have you telling on me.”

As he spoke Sasha felt her stomach churn in disgust. It was wrong, everything he said, everything he did. A twisted parody of her big brother designed to torment her. She gritted her teeth, “Why!? Am I just entertainment for you?”

“Well…” the Dark King shrugged, “I don’t want to be reductive, but that’s part of it.” He flashed her a demented smile, “I’m having a blast Sash.”

“D-don’t you dare call me that!”

“I will call you what I like. I will do what I like. Because the simple fact is Sash, you can’t stop me.” The Dark King’s blade tip dropped, and he began advancing again, sword hanging apparently casually from his hand, but it was clear to any observer that he was ready for anything, “That’s the reason for all this torment. I am trying to educate you, to show you just how hopeless your situation is.”

Sasha began to raise her blade, “I won’t-”

The blow came like a tsunami, bashing her blade aside as if it were not even there, “Give up? Is that what you were going to say?” The Dark King waited for her blade to rise again before he brought the stolen silver heron blade down again, “your brother said the same, look how well that turned out for him!” As Sasha reeled from the last clash his hand shot out, grabbing her by the hair and lifting her up to his eyeline, he snarled baring his teeth like a wild animal, “You’re out of your depth Sash. You, Cameron, Marcy, Anne, none of you have what it takes to stand against me. None of you even realize just how much of my might has yet to be unveiled.” The snarl transitioned into a smirk, “But you’ll see, in due time. For every step ounce of progress you make I will reveal just how much higher the mountain you’re climbing is. Until you can’t even see the summit.”

With a roar he flung her, sending her sailing across the ravine, landing with a thud against the grassy slope. Coughing Sasha pulled her hair out away from her eyes, she glowered at the Dark King, “Are you just going to kick me around and boast? Because I for one have better things to do.”

“Cute.” The Dark King’s lips twitched in annoyance, “but fair, this is where I tell you the way out.”

Pulling herself to her feet Sasha spat out blood and rolled her shoulders, readying herself for the next onslaught, “and what might that be?”

“Join me.” The Dark King held out his left hand, “and I promise your brother will be freed.”

“Why would I ever trust you?”

“I only need Cameron to take Earth. After that, when I’ve got billions of host options, he’s free to go.”

Sasha’s eyes narrowed, rage burning in them, “What about Anne and Marcy? What happens to them?”

The Dark King shrugged, “Marcy will make an excellent future host, her life will be preserved. Anne on the other hand… I doubt she’ll survive the extraction process. I haven’t had time to refine it for an unwilling subject.”

“You’re asking me to throw away my friends’ lives? What kind of deal is that?”

“A deal where you get to see your brother again Sash.” The Dark King’s eyes were fixed on her, unmoving, unblinking, “you can’t beat me, so make the choice. Your brother, or your friends.”

“I won’t!” With furious energy Sasha charged forward, her sword flashing in a pink arc towards the Dark King’s side.

The sword came to rest with a jolt as the Dark King’s gauntleted hand intercepted the blade, wrapping black metal fingers around the pink metal. He snarled, “This… is growing tiresome. You will choose, here, now. Your brother or your friends!”

Sasha gripped the hilt with both hands, “never!”

The silver heron’s hilt collided with her jaw. Sasha’s vision exploded into stars as the Dark King snarled, “To think, I thought Cameron was exaggerating how stubborn you were…” Ripping the pink heron blade from her hands he tossed it to the side and planted his foot in her chest once more, kicking her back, “Accept the fall! Embrace it! Don’t you understand?! Don’t you see just how helpless you are all are!?” suddenly he paused, his snarl turning into a slow, wicked smile, “yes… see…”

>“ …”

>“ !”

A spark of blue energy flashed alongside the Dark King’s helmet, causing his eyes to blink as if a bit of dust had landed in them, “oh, ho, ho! Big bro is awake!” The smile turned into a full demented grin, “and he does not like my idea…” The Dark King began advancing towards Sasha, still lying on the ravine floor winded. As he approached a chuckle built up from deep within his chest, “well now I gotta do it!”

Sasha, senses returning began to shuffle away from the approaching Dark King. She hadn’t been afraid before. Shaken? Certainly. Unsettled? Without question. But it wasn’t until she saw the glee in those approaching dead orange eyes and the cruel grin on her brother’s face that thing was wearing that she felt afraid. She scrambled back, “What are you… stay away!”

“No, no Sash. I have to help you see…” The Dark King lunged forward, his free hand gripping Sasha’s face. His index finger and thumb connected in a circle, laid over Sasha’s left eye. He was standing over her, pressing her firmly into the ground all the while his other hand twirled the silver blade. He giggled madly, “Hold still, it’ll be a lot messier if you wriggle.”

Sasha fought back with all her might, kicking, scratching, and even biting into his metal armour when she could. It was to no avail. His grip was too strong, and she was beaten, bruised, and battered. So, as she lay there with her head pinned to the ground, the view out of one eye her brother’s features, twisted into a cruel mockery of what they once were, and the view out the other the approaching tip of her own sword Sasha did the only thing she could. She screamed.

Closer, ever closer. The Dark King laughed to himself as he brought the blade closer. Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner? Fear and pain in others was intoxicating to him, a brew strong enough to make him light-headed with glee. And the sheer terror in Sash’s eyes? That was a work of art, a palatable mix of horror and shock. It was almost a shame he’d be cutting it down to half, but what kind of king would he be if he didn’t follow through on his threats?

He smelt the change in the air long before the proximity sensors in his helmet picked up the signal. The metallic taste of energy discharge, undercut with a slightly sweet note that lingered on his tongue and in his nostrils as he breathed in. Even with this warning he barely had time to react.

Anne slammed into the Dark King’s raised energy shield like a blue comet. The impact threw up a dust storm, engulfing the entire ravine in a thick cloud of particulate. As it cleared two lights shone through, the brilliant blue boiling off Anne and the pale yellow of the Dark King’s shield. The Dark King smirked coyly at Anne, “Do you mind coming back later Anne? My sister and I are in the middle of a rather important bit of business.” He’s dropped the silver heron blade, having retrieved his laser sword from his belt.

Anne’s brow furrowed, “you might have his body, but you’re not Cameron, Dark King.”

“Oh, so Marcy’s free. Good for her.” The Dark King's eyes roamed around the ravine edge, “I take it she’s gone to help the Plantars? A good choice.”

Anne ignored his ramblings, turning her attention to Sasha who was crawling away along the floor, “Sash, are you alright?”

Picking up both her swords Sasha shrugged, still visibly trembling, “mostly.”

“I’ll hold him off, get to the others and get out of here!”

Sasha looked as if she were about to argue but one more glance over at the Dark King seemed to make up her mind. She nodded, “Don’t do anything dumb Boonchuy!”

Anne smiled weakly, “A bit late for that.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Deactivating his shield the Dark King swung forward with his laser sword, aiming to bisect Anne in one powerful blow.

Reaching out with both hands Anne gripped the energy blade, holding it firm as blue energy shone around her hands. She grunted with exertion as the blade began to heat up her hands, “Sash, go!”

Without a second word, Sasha took off up the side of the ravine.

A black gauntleted hand cannoned into Anne’s chin, the mechanically augmented force of it sending her flying backwards. Releasing a burst of energy, she brought herself to a halt mid-air, the shockwave sending loose rocks and sticks tumbling away from her. A second shockwave propelled her back at her foe, first cocked back for a flying punch.

“Telegraphed.” The Dark King sidestepped the blow, countering with a two-handed swipe of his sword into Anne’s middle that tossed her into the air as if she were a baseball. This time she didn’t have time to recover as the roar of rockets announced the Dark King’s approach.

“Unfocussed.” Launching off the ground and propelled into the air by a burst from the jets in his boots the Dark King slammed into Anne, tackling her mid-air. Ignoring his sword he instead opted for fists, raining down a rapid series of blows on Anne as they tumbled through the sky.

With a grunt of exertion Anne shook him off and landed a punch into his chest, sending the Dark King rocketing into the ground below. Anne smirked, lowering her voice to match the Dark King’s timbre, “overconfident.”

Rising from the crater he’d landed in the Dark King spat blood and a tooth out onto the ravine floor, he glared up at Anne, “I’ll admit I got a little carried away, but I can keep this up a lot longer than you can Anne.” He smirked, “How are you feeling? Tired?”

Anne shrugged, “feeling on top of the world right now actually, thanks for asking.” Though she maintained her outward bravado Anne knew she couldn’t stick around long. In the past, she’d stayed in her calamity form for maybe a minute tops, and as soon as it ran out she was completely tapped. She needed enough juice not only to stay up in this fight but also to run from it. The others were probably far enough away now, she should go while she had the energy to do so.

“You’re awfully forgiving, aren’t you?”

Anne turned, eyes narrowing, “are you surrendering?”

The Dark King shook his head, a grin dancing on his lips, “No, just making an observation. Not a lot of people would stick their neck out for friends who stabbed them in the back. Especially if they did it twice.”

Anne dithered, this was clearly a ploy to keep her here longer, to drain her energy. But at the same time she couldn’t leave that statement unchallenged, “We had our issues, but we worked past them. I don’t’ know what you told Sasha or Marcy, but you won’t turn us against each other.”

“All I told them, was the truth, just like I’m telling you now.” The Dark King extinguished his laser sword. He looked up at Anne, black cloak billowing in the wind her powers were churning up, “Marcy turned your life upside down, Sasha tried to kill you. You can’t put a band-aid on that.”

Anne’s fist clenched, “Okay now you’re exaggerating.”

“Barely.”

“Well. Believe what you want, but things are different between us now.”

As Anne turned to leave, she heard a chuckle emanate from the Dark King, “You are usually right about these things I suppose, as long as you don’t count the first three times.”

Anne glanced at him over her shoulder frostily then with a rush of air she shot off into the sky like a blazing blue arrow.

The Dark King watched as disappeared over the tree line, and shrugged, “But what are the odds of a fourth and fifth?”

Chapter Text

It didn’t take Marcy long to find the Plantars, Sprig’s powerful lungs made that easy. The young frog was practically operatic in his cries of dismay as the cloak-bot flung him about its head, ducking a weaving blow from Polly and blasts from the Hop Pop-Frobo tag team. Despite their familiarity with facing such a foe the Plantars were struggling to land a killing blow. Only able to force the frobot onto the defensive, unable to finish off Sprig despite having him quite literally by the throat.

Marcy panted as she ran in their direction, wincing as a stray tree branch flicked against her face, causing pain to explode from her still-broken nose. Under the effects of the mind-shackle collar her body had been pushed to heights she hadn’t thought possible as she had hunted Anne, now the repercussions were becoming evident. Her muscles ached, shredded from overexertion and her breathing came in ragged gasps as her oxygen-deprived blood screamed for relief. She’d only get one shot before collapsing likely. This needed to be wrapped up quickly, and efficiently.

She recalled what she’d learned of the cloak-bots. A relatively new design dreamed up by the sadistic minds of Triple B, but it shared the same internal configuration as any frobot. Strictly speaking, everything a frobot unit needed to operate was located in its head unit, Frobo being a prime example. Everything from the main computing core to its transponder was wrapped deep in a highly durable shell of reinforced metal, able to shrug off anything less than a direct energy blast. The head on a cloak-bot was uniquely protected, being far smaller proportional to its frame and shielded on both sides by massive pauldrons the frobot could easily avoid damage to its vital systems by taking advantage of these elements and its enhanced agility.

In her weakened state Marcy knew there was no way she could strike the head. Even with the element of surprise, the cloak-bot’s reaction speed was too great. She’d need a different target, one far easier to strike while being equally debilitating.

As soon as the problem entered her mind so too did the answer. Months spent pouring over ancient manuscripts on robotics in a vain attempt to find a weakness in the Core had given her ample time to learn the makeup of its robotic minions. The main body of the standard frobot unit was designed to undergo immense wear and tear as it was expected echelons would be out on campaign for months without maintenance as the ancient newtopian empire brought a world to heel. The chest cavity was a mess of craftily designed redundant systems built around the main power core. It could be punctured anywhere, filled with water, left to rust for centuries and still operate and near total effectiveness, or at least almost anywhere.

About three inches up and two left from the center of the chest, poetically enough right about where its heart would be had it been an organic being, there was a power junction that served as a secondary management device for the unit. By default, it was inactive, part of the redundant power systems should the main pathways suffer damage, designed so that in the case of power failure in the main grid this system would switch on seamlessly. There was an oversight in its design, however. Should it be activated while the main systems were powered it could short out the entire unit as the energy flow would overload the circuitry.
Marcy thumbed the activation rune on her dagger, there was, of course, the possibility that Sprig might be crushed in the cloak-bot’s hand as it short-circuited, but she could probably slice the arm off before any serious harm came to him… maybe…

Polly was the first to spot Marcy charging towards them, dagger drawn and ready to strike, “Look out!”

Hop Pop turned, a look of horror so wild on his features it wrapped all the way past comedically over the top back to horror and past again to comedy, “run kids! She’s gone full Sasha!”

Marcy glared at Hop Pop as she dashed towards him, “Well now I don’t feel so bad about this.” with a nimble leap she planted a foot on top of the old frog’s head, using it as a springboard that sent her sailing towards the cloak-bot, dagger aimed squarely at the cloak-bot’s head.

Instantly recognizing the danger, the cloak-bot drew its head back, its movements precisely calculated to see Marcy land just short of her supposed target. As she flew through the air Marcy giggled, “incorrect!” The dagger slammed into the cloak-bot’s chest, burying itself up to the hilt. For a split second nothing happened and panic flooded through Marcy’s mind.

Did I miss?

Then with a crack of electricity and shower of sparks the cloak-bot spasmed. Marcy’s relief was short-lived as Sprig’s wail, which had been so continuous it practically blended into the background, was cut short. The young frog’s eyes bulged out of his sockets as the frobot’s furious grip locked around him tighter than ever before. As swiftly as her failing muscles could manage Marcy pulled the dagger out and cut a wide vertical slash at the flailing tubelike arm of the cloak-bot as it writhed. She clipped the arm, not enough to sever it but more than enough to disconnect the servos operating the claws. With a pair of thwumps, she and Sprig fell backwards onto the mossy floor of the forest.

Marcy felt something prodding intermittently into her side. She opened her eyes to find herself staring into the faces of Hop Pop, Sprig, Polly, and Frobo who were still being ported on Hop Pop’s shoulders. A fact that he seemed less than pleased about if the occasional spinning of his tyres was anything to go by.
Sprig, who was holding the stick that was poking her, glanced at Hop Pop, “Well her eyes aren’t glowing purple…”

“Still, can’t be too careful Sprig, she almost caved my head in…”

Marcy groaned and weakly brought a hand up to wipe dirt from her face, “nice to see you guys too.”

“Alright then you!” Polly jumped on Marcy’s chest, gripping the fabric of her hood she lifted Marcy’s head off the ground slightly, “where’s Anne?! What have you done with her?”

Marcy did little to resist, as the adrenaline wore off her limbs felt like lead weights, impossible to move, “Anne got my collar off, she went to help Sasha. Now can you please let go of my hood like that? Blood from my nose is getting in my mouth…”

“Aww shoot…” Hop Pop set Frobo down to the ground and pulled Polly off, “Sprig help me get Marcy on her feet.” As the two frogs lifted Marcy, one under each arm, Hop Pop pulled a kerchief out of his jacket pocket and began wiping the blood that was leaking down Marcy face, carefully avoiding her nose as he did, “you look a little banged up there kid, is your nose broke?”

Marcy grinned, “Yeah, been a while since I’ve broken that piece of my body…”

Tearing the kerchief into two small section Hop Pop rolled them up into thin wads. He nodded over to Polly, “Polly, can you pull Marcy’s head back a bit?” he then brought his hand up towards Marcy’s face, “Looks like a minor break I think I can push it back into place… I’m going to realign this thing, let me know when you’re ready it might sting a little.”

Marcy nodded silently.

With a slight squelching noise Hop Pop slid her nose back to its straight position. Just as soon as it was back he plugged both her nostrils with the kerchief wads. Satisfied with his handiwork Hop Pop wiped the remaining blood off of Marcy’s face with his sleeve edge, “we’ll take you to see a doc at the new base to clean this properly and give you some real bandages, but this should hold things still for now…”

“Thanks, Hop Pop…” Marcy couldn’t tell if it was the pain of her injury or the experience of genuine care for the first time in weeks that was bringing a slight moisture to her eyes.

Sprig looked around at the forest surrounding them, “so what now?”

“Now, we get out of here.”

Marcy raised her head eyes lighting up with joy, “Sash!” her face immediately as she laid eyes upon her friend.

Sasha looked like she’d been thrown through a blender and then dragged through a ditch. She was covered in cuts and bruises, was missing chunks of her armour, and her hair was caked with leaves and mud. A particularly long cut on her left arm was leaking blood down to her hand and she was walking with a visible limp.

Polly’s eyes were wide with shock, “What happened?”

But Sasha only shook her head, “No time, we need to go.”

Panic, seemingly the emotion of the day for Marcy returned once more, “Where’s Anne? We can’t leave her with him!”

“Anne can fly, we can’t. Trust her Mar-Mar she knows what she’s doing.” The Plantars exchanged worried glances, the exchange was broken as Sasha lurched past them, snatching up Marcy from Hop Pop and Sprig she began making her way into the trees, Marcy’s arm draped over her shoulder, “get your rears in gear people! Move!”

Embers cracked and popped in the soil beneath his feet. Charred wood and stone; splintered, set alight, and pounded into dust gave the ground he walked on a pillow-like texture. The Dark King paused as his eyes wandered onto the disintegrating remains of a sign. The corner of his mouth twitched in something approaching regret and he made a clicking sound with his tongue, “pity…” Only six letters were visible.

TEA SHO

The moment passed quickly, turning to the blasted wasteland that had once been he nodded in approval, “almost perfectly level, we’ve done fine work today.”

One of the cloak-bots bowed, “You. Honour. Us. Majesty… Today. Was. A. Great. Victory…”

“Yes…” The Dark King brought an armoured hand up, inspecting the white tooth held delicately between his index finger and thumb. Once more his mouth twitched, this time in barely concealed rage. Turning away from the newly created flatland the Dark King’s voice was curt and sharp, “I must depart, my power reserves dwindle, and my injuries need tending to. Finish your patrols then return to the castle.” He paused, and as he did a portal ripped into existence before him, superheated air burned off it, churning up a wind that made his cloak billow and raising up a dust storm from the loose debris beneath his feet, “should you find their trail, do not engage, they need time for the terror of their situation to set in…”

“As. You. Command.”

“And… that’s when we set off for Wartwood.” Marcy’s hands trembled slightly as she brought the mug of warm tea up to her lips. She and Sasha were bunked next to each other in the hastily erected medical quarters of the Wartwood resistance’s temporary base. Located about half a day’s walk from Wartwood, the site had been marked out by Grime about a week ago as a potential rally point in the event that the main base was discovered. Ever since Sasha’s hunch about an attack, the resistance had been shifting personnel and supplies to the site. Chuck had outdone himself as usual. What had once been a dilapidated ruin, probably an ancient fortress of some kind, had been reinforced and renovated into a functional castle deep in the dense forest of wild Amphibia.

The tree cover made it nearly invisible to the air, and its remote location, all but guaranteed patrols would never reach it. This was a double-edged sword, however, as it made sorties for raids and strikes against frobot forces more challenging as more supplies would be needed to traverse the wilds. For now, though, Home Away From Home, as the resistance members were calling the base, would have to do.

Anne sat perched on a stool between both beds, chin cupped in both hands as she listened to Marcy’s recollections. As the tale wrapped up Anne closed her eyes, folding her face into her palms so that her hands now covered her mouth and nose. The whole situation seemed like something out of a nightmare. The resistance had known about the mind-shackling collars for a while now, with the liberation of Domino 2 and the Kill-a-moths being the most recent encounter. Still, the thought that the enemy’s mind-controlling technology went beyond controlling mere beasts was terrifying, to say nothing of the state Cameron was in.

“Marcy…” Sasha leaned forward from her lying position, wincing as her still healing injuries shot pain through her body, “Marcy I’m so sorry…”
Anne couldn’t meet Marcy’s gaze, running her hands up to her temple she gazed at the ground, “I should have stayed in Amphibia, or at least waited outside the portal for you. With Cameron we probably could have taken Andrias together…”

Marcy opened her mouth to reply but then Sasha cut in, a tinge of indignation in her voice, “yeah wait hold on, you two opened a portal while I was still fighting Andrias with Grime. Were you just going to leave me behind?”

“Wha-?” Anne’s head shot up, an apology on the tip of her tongue. Then she remembered the Dark King’s words and for a brief instant the betrayal and hurt she’d spent the last two months reliving in her head from that fateful night snuck past her filter, “Well can you blame me!?” She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips, but it was too late.

Sasha’s face twisted into shock and then rage, “I knew it, you’ve never trusted me since then!”

Marcy’s eyes were wide with shock, “guys!”

Anne was not listening, after everything they’d been through Sasha was still self absorbed, “At the time you seemed pretty happy here, ya know, being queen and all!”

“And what about Cam? Were you going to ditch him here too?!”

“He sided with you didn’t he?!”

*Bang!*

Sasha and Anne instantly fell silent, eyes fixed on Marcy who was holding the cracked remains of her tea mug against the surface of the side table she’d brought it down on. The dark-haired girl’s eyes flicked between her friends, wide and pleading, “Stop this! This is exactly what the Dark King wants! He wants to drive a wedge between us. To divide and conquer.”

Anne slowly glanced over a Sasha, who’s head was bowed. Marcy continued, “And even if that wasn’t his plan, we still need each other…” Her voice trembled slightly, “at the end of the day, I don’t care what Mother Olm’s prophecy says about us. I don’t care what the Dark King wants from us. Cameron told me the three of us together can accomplish anything, and that’s good enough for me.”

Sasha wiped something from the corner of her eye, “I-I’m so sorry girls… It’s just… it’s just been so hard and… Cam…”

Anne walked over and wrapped her in a hug, “we’ve all made mistakes here Sash… but Marcy’s right, we can’t let them bring us down.”

Reaching over Marcy joined in the hug, wrapping one arm around Anne and another around Sasha. The three girls held each other tightly, the infirmary quiet except for the occasional soft sound of sobbing.

Andrias found the Dark King the next morning in the sparring chamber. Still clad in his rejuvenation tank undersuit the Dark King was dancing around the circular area as an unusual frobot pursued him. Based on the frame of a cloak-bot this unit was shorter and boasted a new limb arrangement. Gone were the tube arms ending in dexterous claws surmounted, replaced by articulated joins and six digited hands with an opposable thumb on either side. These digits were wrapped around the haft of a long stave which the unit wielded with comfortable agility, striking at the Dark King who was wielding a similar weapon. Andrias watched at his master expertly parried and deflected the frobot’s blows, commenting aloud as they fought.

“You’re fighting with organic limitations! Think outside the box!” The Dark King twisted, deflecting a series of blows from the frobot as it spun the stave in unnatural patterns, “Good…” Andrias saw how the fight would end even before the Dark King lined up the blow, “but not good enough.” With blinding speed, the Dark King shattered his opponent’s left knee, sending the frobot crashing to the ground as it let out a mechanical shriek of pain.

Andrias winced, the methodology of giving a soldier the ability to feel pain had obvious benefits but this seemed unnecessary. As the frobot continued to groan in agony the Dark King’s voice called up to the crown prince, “Andrias, I see you skulking over there. Come here.”

Walking out onto the arena flanked by two royal purple frobot guards Andrias watched as the three newts known collectively as Triple B dragged the broken frobot unit away to the workshop for repair, “development going well?”

The Dark King had a towel around his neck and was taking swigs from a metal water bottle, dark black in colouration of course, “moderately, the strike-bots are fast learners, but they have yet to meet my expectation in terms of combat ability. That one was too gentle; we’ll probably have to melt it down and program the next one to be a bit more aggressive.”

Andrias let out a long breath, the frobots were constructed beings, hardly alive by any traditional definition. Still, the idea of an intelligent mind being discarded so easily did not sit well with him. Clearing his throat with a cough he made to change the subject, “so… I heard things went well at Wartwood…”

“Indeed,” A dark smile crossed the Dark King’s lips that almost made Andrias feel like returning to the subject of incinerating frobots, “total victory. The girls are going to be emotional wrecks after that encounter. I expect them to break in short order, then we can get back to the business of conquering Earth.”

“Forgive me majesty but…” Andrias grimaced, “was it wise to let Marcy go back to them? She is the brains of that operation…”

“Andrias, Andrias, Andrias… this is all part of tearing them down, don’t you see? Marcy understands me… she understands what I can do, what I’m willing to do, just how powerless they are to stop me.” He took another swig from the bottle and grinned at Andrias, “Understanding how hopeless their situation is will break Anne and Sash far more effectively than any taunting on my part ever could.” He shrugged, “And in any case, there’s even odds they’ll end up tearing each other apart. Cameron’s memories are quite explicit, their friendship had been undercut so many times in the past year it’s a miracle they’re on speaking terms. I mean… Anne and Sash tried to kill each other. You can’t just kiss and make up after that…”

“Still… I worry we’ve given the resistance a new tool… Marcy knows an awful lot about our technology.”

The Dark King chuckled, “indeed, consider it a stress test of our military. We’ll be going up against an enemy with perfect knowledge of our means and methods. Let her poke all the holes she wants, we shall learn from them and make adjustments accordingly in preparation for our invasion of the human homeworld. You shouldn’t be afraid of a chance to learn and adapt prince, we shall be all the stronger for it.”

Andrias shrugged, “If you say so… still I cannot help but shake the feeling this could come back to bite us.”

“Your bellyaching is growing tiresome.” The Dark King’s eyes narrowed, “get it through your thick skull; those children are at their breaking point, and Marcy cannot do a damn thing to change-”

“Annnnnd… that should do it.” Marcy’s voice rang out, echoing as the sounds bounced around the sparring chamber.

Andrias and the Dark King froze. Slowly turning Andrias stared dumbfounded as the frobot guard behind him spoke with the young girl’s voice.

“We’re live. Sasha, you’re up!”

*Crack*

The bottle in the Dark King’s hand surrendered to his fury, crushed in his white-knuckle grip, “Andrias… how many of them?”

“Right… yeah. Um… Hi everyone, my name is Sasha Waybright.”

Andrias felt a twinge of excitement run down his spine as his ears picked up the echo of Sasha’s voice, no, not echo, it was coming from the guards in the next room over, “I think… it’s all of them…”

“Most of you probably know me as the leader of the toad rebellion that terrorized the people of Newtopia a few months back. I attempted to seize power for myself without regard for the people of Amphibia or my friends who gave me the second chance I didn’t deserve. What I did was… selfish… and unforgivable.

So I’m not speaking to you today for myself, but for my friends who deserve your respect and admiration far more than I ever will.

Liberty in Amphibia is under threat of going extinct forever. This isn’t news to any of you who’ve been paying attention, but to those who have been trying to ignore the signs let me spell it out for you.

Frobots have occupied every town and village from the swamps of Wartwood to the mountains of North Tower. King Andrias Leviathan used the rebellion as an excuse to clamp down on your freedoms. To muzzle dissent and shackle your friends and family. Work camps have been set up to silence those who dare speak out, and worse still, entire communities have been exterminated for the crime of refusing to bow before a dictator.

Some of you might say this is the price of security and stability. You trust Andrias after all, he’s led you for a millennia and his family are the bedrock of the Kingdom of Newtopia.

I must shatter that illusion. Andrias has willingly handed control of the Kingdom over to a cruel and vicious creature, The Dark King. The Dark King is an enemy to life itself. He stole the body and mind of my brother. He ordered the extermination of Croakwood, he led the burning of the ancient city of Proteus, and most recently he reduced Wartwood to ashes in an attempt to kill the last resistance to his rule.

But despite his best efforts the Wartwood resistance lives on, we will continue to resist this tyrant, however, we cannot do this alone.

I will not lie to you. The odds are not in our favour. The Dark King has at his disposal the might of an army and navy meant to conquer star systems. His reach extends across the continent, and he will not hesitate to resort to cruel and brutal tactics to accomplish his goals.

But that is not to say he is untouchable. My friend, Anne Boonchuy, knocked the Dark King on his ass as we retreated, and Marcy Wu saw through the lies he poured into her ears for months on end. He is not all-knowing or all-powerful, we can beat him.

So I call upon you all, fight! Fight for your homes! Fight for your loved ones! Fight for the dream of a free amphibia!

For I promise. No matter what the Dark King and Andrias throw at us. No matter how much they tighten their grasp on this world. No matter how long it takes. We will never give up!

I am Sasha Waybright, commander of the Wartwood resistance and we will accept nothing less than total victory over the Dark King!

Remember Croakwood! Remember Proteus!

Remember Wartwood!

Waybright out.”

You could hear a pin drop in the sparring chamber, even the mighty engines holding the castle aloft seemed to mute themselves momentarily in the aftermath of Sasha’s words.

“So… at their breaking point huh?”

“Silence!” The Dark King’s roar split the tension like a scythe, tearing through the hallways of the castle to echo throughout the great structure. His hand was bleeding, the skin shredded by the remains of the water bottle still clenched tightly in his fist. His breathing was laboured, shivering with rage, “this… this is a last pathetic attempt to rekindle hope in a hopeless situation.” With a violent outburst of energy he flung the bottle into the ground, “This changes nothing!”

“We should respond…”

“Of course we should, do you take me for a fool!?” The Dark King snarled at the crown prince, his smug veneer shattered, “one more idiotic comment from you and I’ll gut you with my bare hands!”

Andrias didn’t respond to the threat, averting his gaze and remaining silent as the Dark King stormed out of the sparring chamber, blood dripping along the floor as strode, “Have a broadcast capture device brought to the throne room!”

Marcy flipped a switch on Frobo’s circuit board, “annnd cut, that’s it guys, broadcast over!”

Sasha shyly gave a thumbs up as the crowd that had gathered in Home Away from Home’s courtyard exploded into cheers. Anne ran up and hugged the blonde girl, “Great job Sash, you knocked it out of the park. Still… you didn’t need to be so self deprecating.”

“I just wanted to be honest…” Sasha shrugged, “seemed like the best tack to take.” She peered over Anne’s shoulder to Marcy, “And you’re sure it went out everywhere?”

Marcy looked up from her tinkering in Frobo’s head, “Oh yeah. All frobots, at least the basic model, operate on the same network and it has really subpar security. So anywhere there was a frobot your message was heard loud and clear, and since the Dark King’s been stationing frobots in every town and village well… I think you had a pretty decent audience.”

Sasha grimaced, “Let’s just hope they believed me.”

“Sash, stop worrying, you nailed that.” Anne released her friend from the hug and gave her a firm pat on the back, “I always forget just how good of a public speaker you are, and I’m blown away every time.”

Marcy nodded, lips pursed, “honestly.” This was followed by murmurs of assent from the onlooking crowd.

Grime crossed his arms and stuck his chin out smugly, “I expect nothing less from the best first lieutenant in the toad army.”

“Stop! No!” Sasha pulled her cloak over her head, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, “this is too much!”

As the assembled friends laughed Marcy glanced down at the back of Frobo’s head, “I think someone’s a bit ticked off at you Sash.”

Anne bit her lip, “Is it…?”

Sasha pulled the cloak off her head, “who else would it be?”

Sure enough, Frobo’s eyes lit up and a red hologram sprung into life, towering over the assembled frogs, newts, toads, and humans. Clad in his full battle regalia the Dark King stared out into the middle distance, cloak billowing cinematically in an unseen breeze.

Anne glanced at Sasha, seeing her friend’s shoulders arch as her whole body trembled in rage. She placed a hand on Sasha’s arm.

When the Dark King spoke his voice was smooth, contrary to the unsettling echo he’d addressed the three girls with at the ravine, Cameron’s natural voice was overlaid with several deeper and unique voices. They were blended perfectly, with no uncanny dissonance between words, it was refined and stable.

“My loyal subjects… I regret that the current crisis has necessitated my first communication with you to be under such… informal circumstances. Nevertheless, it falls to me to set the record straight.

I am the Dark King, rightful monarch of the Kingdom of Newtopia by the immutable laws of secession encoded into our great nation’s founding principles. I’m sure you’re all wondering how such a thing could possibly be. It appears I am no Leviathan, nor even amphibian. How could I hold a stronger claim to the throne than the illustrious Andrias Leviathan?

Simple, though I wear the flesh of a human I am in reality a digitized soul. Millennia ago the great rulers of the old empire, fearful that their wisdom might eventually be lost to time, uploaded their consciousness into a robotic form. A Core within which they stored their brain patterns and could advise their descendants on the art of rulership. Since that day every monarch of our great nation has ascended to this Core.

I am that Core made manifest.

Andrias Leviathan, in light of the chaos the road rebellion inflicted upon our nation, saw fit to relinquish his post as monarch so that I might guide our people through these troubling times.

Now… let me address the lies and misinformation Sasha Waybright just disseminated.

I shall first acknowledge the kernels of truth in her statement. Croakwood, Wartwood, and indeed the mythical city of Proteus are no more. I further acknowledge that these settlements fell by my direct order or, in the case of Proteus, my own hand. This I do not dispute.

What you all should know, is why. Why I would unleash such brutality against seemingly innocent people? There in lies the first falsehood. Innocent.

Make no mistake my friends. These people were not innocent. Sasha Waybright was the architect behind the toad rebellion that threatened to end the Newtopian society we all cherish. The settlements of Croakwood and Wartwood aided and abetted this shameful act of violence against the innocent people of Newtopia!

And what of Proteus? I must beg your indulgence friends to address that question we must ask ourselves a question in turn… why are the leaders of the resistance all human? Furthermore, why do I appear before you as one of them?

I have seized the human known as Cameron Waybright as my host so that I might turn the enemy’s might back upon itself! In his mind, I have found the truth of the matter…

These… alien beings, who came to our world from beyond the veil are bent on destroying our way of life! Why? Because they fear us!

The toad rebellion was a failed attempt by the human beasts to destroy our civilization because they feared our strength, our resolve.

The olms, with their terrible magics, jealous of our prosperous society, brought the humans here! Fortunately, I uncovered the truth and ended the despicable worms before their schemes could come to fruition. Yet despite their downfall, the Olms’ treachery persists. Their agents spread seditious lies and insurrection. Meanwhile, on their planet the humans gear up for war, wielding weapons powerful enough to extinguish all life on our planet.

It is in this time of strife and chaos that I come to you with a promise. I will not allow our civilization, which has stood for over ten thousand years, to crumble to dust! I will not allow these traitors and outsiders to ruin all that we have worked and bled to build!

So as I have adapted to a new form to lead you, so too must the Kingdom adapt to survive this calamity!

Hear me loyal subjects! In order to secure the future of our society and our way of life, the Newtopian Kingdom will be reorganized into the Neo-Newtopian Empire! For a safe, and secure… society!

As in the days of old, we shall be masters once more!

The human barbarians will be brought low!

The treasonous resistance will be hunted down!

And the citizens of Amphibia will enjoy the peace and prosperity that is their right!

This is the beginning of a glorious new chapter in our history friends. I am fortunate to be the one to lead us into it!”

As the Dark King turned away from the castle balcony where he’d been delivering his address, he was greeted by Andrias, patiently waiting at the entrance to the throne room, “What news?”

“I would say… mixed success.”

The Dark King swept past the prince, not even bothering to turn his head as he spoke, “for them, or us.”

“Both.”

Spinning on a dime the Dark King halted and glared up into Andrias’ eye, hate radiated off him like heat from an element, causing the prince to break eye contact almost immediately, “Speak. Plainly. Or never again.”

“We’ve lost contact with hundreds of frobot units in the periphery, at least a dozen towns have openly declared secession, and there are riots in the streets of the capital.”

The Dark King didn’t break his gaze, “And you would describe that as mixed?”

“Well… I haven’t been able to go over all the reports from the periphery villages and towns but…” Andrias coughed at the Dark King’s clawed gauntleted hand twitched towards his laser sword, “the riots in Newtopia are being handled… by the Newtopian guard.”

The Dark King’s eyes shivered for a moment processing the information, “the newt soldiery you mean? Not our frobot force?”

“Correct, and they’re supported by an ad hoc militia who have declared themselves neo-imperial loyalists.” As the Dark King relaxed Andrias felt a twinge of disgust as he watched the cruel smile appear on his features.

“So… it’s civil war.”

Andrias’ fist tightened. The feelings he’d been beating down for the last two months were threatening to run over. How could the citizens be so blind to this thing’s nature, how could they possibly dedicate their life to such a monster? Sure, he had, but that was different, he was family, and no matter how despicable its actions Andrias couldn’t imagine himself turning on family. At least… not yet. No. He crushed the sentiment before it progressed further, “So it would seem, majesty.”

The Dark King didn’t answer immediately, coolly striding over to the throne he ran his fingers over the metal coral surface, tracing the weaving patterns inscribed into it. With a flick of his cloak, he sat, hands gripping the arms of the throne like a child giddily riding a rollercoaster. A wicked smile split his face and the myriad orange eyes trembled in anticipation, “deploy the fleet. If the girls want a war, then that’s what they’ll get.”

Chapter Text

It is a period of civil war.

In the aftermath of what is becoming known as the Wartwood address, the Neo-Newtopian Empire is asserting its dominance across the continent. Frobot forces marked with the icons of the ancient empire have been deployed in terrifying numbers to towns and villages in the outer reaches of Amphibia. Fleets of starships descend from the sky without warning to annihilate resistance movements. Entire rebel armies have been wiped out in the blink of an eye, reduced to ash by arcane technology they scarcely understood. The advance of the Neo-Newtopian Empire’s for se has been nearly unopposed and everywhere one travels the rhetoric of neo-imperial true believers can be heard, proclaiming their inevitable victory.

Yet for all the reborn empire’s posturing, the Wartwood address’ success has been undeniable. For every town where loyalists welcome the frobot echelons as saviours, two more declare their secession. For every rebel unit that has fled the field, another has fought to the last frog, newt, and toad, frustrating the designs of the enemy. For every neo-imperial propaganda broadcast describing the unparalleled might of the Dark King, a dozen more stories are told of the lone guardian, blazing with the blue light of hope, that humiliated the monarch in single combat.

The fires of rebellion are burning in every town village and even in the metropolis of Newtopia. Hundreds of dissident movements have flocked to the Wartwood remnants. No longer a resistance, the Wartwood Rebellion has welcomed these groups into the first Amphibia Freedom Brigade and under the direction of Generals Sasha Waybright, Marcy Wu, and Anne Boonchuy they are bringing the fight to the Dark King’s forces.

As the continent descends into bloody conflict a rallying cry is ringing out across a dozen battlefields and can be heard from the streets of Newtopia to the wilds beyond the toad towers. As thousands march to the defence of freedom with the words,

Remember Wartwood.

Chapter Text

The air hissed and bubbled, screaming in protest as the fabric of reality was twisted into a shape that never should have been. The burning air formed a circle, five meters above the corrugated steel of the factory complex’s floor. The wind raised, tearing at the smog that billowed out of the bulbous smokestacks atop the central rounded structure.

From the wound in reality dropped a figure in midnight black armour. His cloak caught the wind, snapping about him violently as he fell. Through he slammed into the ground with tremendous force he landed practically mid-stride, laser sword rippling out from its hilt as he strode towards the girl standing atop the factory building.

Even though she held the initiative and the high ground, Anne could not suppress the shiver that ran down her spine as the Dark King’s eyes locked with hers. Fury shone through those glowing orange ovals; a thousand years of repressed malice focused down upon her like the heat of a midday sun. That alone would have been unnerving enough but after the last three encounters with her possessed friend Anne had picked up on something far more frightening, he was studying her. Anne knew she was stronger than him, faster too, Marcy had been quite specific in detailing the Dark King’s physical abilities, but of course, Marcy had also pointed out he too was aware of this. Though the three central eyes remained locked with hers, the rest of the Dark King’s optical units ran themselves over her frame, making her feel incredibly exposed. Standing atop the burning factory, a mangled cloak-bot dangling limply in her grip and resplendent in the blue glow of her calamity powers, Anne felt small.

Four more figures dropped from the portal, their pitch-black exoskeletons matching the Dark King’s own attire. The frobots fanned out, approaching the factory in a pincher maneuver around their master’s own advance. Each was armed with a unique laser weapon which they held loosely in their grip as they prowled around the factory. The first one, a lithe individual with sharp features, wielded a double-bladed sword which it held at the ready, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The second was shorter, its face twisted into a ghoulish approximation of amphibian features, in its hands, it twirled two curved laser daggers, perfect for skinning and peeling away at its prey. The third was a sturdy sort, its fingers wrapped around the haft of a broad-bladed laser battle-axe, plain and uncomplicated. Finally, the fourth frobot was armed only with a shorter cousin to the Dark King’s own laser sword, but around its body was a sash of pouches that Anne realized bore a remarkable resemblance to the magic bags she’d seen Maddie wield.

Squaring her shoulders the young girl pushed her apprehension aside and grinned down at the monarch, her voiced carrying over the crackle of burning oil and the creaking of metal, “You getting tired of us running rings around you yet?”

The Dark King did not stop his advance, “typical of Marcy to concoct a plan that involves running away from your problems.” A slight hint of glee trickled into his voice as he saw Anne’s brow furrow, “and of Sasha to send you to do her dirty work.”

Anne crossed her arms, suppressing the urge to rise to the Dark King’s taunts, “and it’s becoming pretty typical of you to fail to stop us.” There was a hiss and then the portal hanging in the sky evaporated. Anne grinned, “And it looks like this time’s no different, see ya later sucka!” Taking a step backward Anne felt gravity take hold of her. As she fell, she rolled over so that her stomach faced the rapidly approaching ground and willed herself upward.

As she climbed higher Anne’s ears caught the distinct click of two metal objects snapping against each other. That could only be one thing. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her suspicions, the grappling spike from the Dark King’s gauntlet had been launched. The pointed object made a hissing noise as it cut through the air, trailing a thin cable behind it. With a deft movement, she rolled to the side evading the questing projectile, allowing it to harmlessly sail past her. Glancing back over her shoulder once more as she rose into the sky, Anne’s eyes met the Dark King’s. Glaring back at her from atop Sasha’s brother’s face the orange eyes were narrow and spoke of untold fury. Anne smirked. Sticking her tongue out, she clicked her feet together and shot off into the wide blue yonder.

The Dark King let the grappling spike’s cable retract into his gauntlet, the thin metal cable making a screeching sound as it scrapped along the metal debris of the factory. Fire and smoke swirled around him, tugging at his cloak, the orange flames catching his eyes, enhancing their glow. He stood motionless; gaze fixed upon the receding blue spec. As it at last dipped below the horizon he let out a sigh and allowed the laser sword’s blade to dissipate.

To his left he heard Omicron approach across the field of debris, his metal foot pads crushing blasted plates of steel and glass beneath his bulk. The strike-bots, or as they were becoming known around the castle, the dark princes, had exceeded most of his expectations. Though their assembly was far too complex for mass production at this time Triple B had managed to scrape together the necessary advanced components to hand-build twenty units. After those had then been whittled down following the Dark King’s own inspection and training, the remaining dozen strike-bots formed a formidable elite cadre at the center of the Neo-Imperial army. Each, save for one ironically, was intended to be a completely unique design, moulded to suit a particular need of the Dark King as he conducted his war.

Omicron was the attack dog, fierce, loyal to a fault even beyond the absolute obedience of his other siblings. His bulky frame marked him as a close combat unit, with powerful servos designed to drive his battle axe into foes with as much ferocity as Neo-Newtopian engineering could muster. The dark prince walked up so that he stood shoulder to shoulder with the Dark King, following his gaze to where Anne had disappeared beneath the horizon. When he spoke, his voice was low and came out of his voice box like the growl of a territorial beast, “Shall I muster a flotilla to pursue father?”

The Dark King could not help but smirk at both the use of the familial term and the suggestion. Omicron’s thinking was single-minded, ever locked on the problem at hand, unbothered with the ramifications of the wider conflict, that of course was Alpha’s job.

“Pointless, the human would be a fool to fly along a trajectory that intersects with the rebel base’s coordinates.” As if on cue Alpha had appeared alongside Omicron, stepping over a floundering frobot unit trapped underneath a steel girder to reach her taller brother’s side. She gazed down at the standard frobot unit. Its body was twisted and warped from a gut punch delivered by Anne moments before the king’s arrival, yet it remained active, desperately trying to rise and greet its masters.

Her eyes were as cold as the metal plates that made up her body, far closer in appearance to the cloak-bot chassis she and her siblings were all based off than Omicron. She was the first, the oldest, and had been designed with the philosophy of command in mind. She alone of the dark princes came close to the raw data processing power of the Core, leagues beyond even the most robust super computers of Earth.

Without a hint of interest or remorse she turned her attention away from the frobot and back to the Dark King, “but of course, it is your decision to make, Father.”

The Dark King chuckled, “Was that sass, Alpha?” Not waiting for a reply he turned to Omicron, eyes narrowing as his face darkened, “As much as I would love to call a hunt against that brat we’d be playing into her hands.” He clasped his hands together behind his back, “She wasn’t wrong, they are running circles around us… call us a ship Omicron.”

“As you say.” Omicron extinguished his axe blade, affixing the weapon to his back.

Alpha watched the Dark King through lidded eyes, “this is the third time you’ve fallen for the exact same trick father…”

The Dark King’s eyes locked on her, “Care to rephrase that?” his voice was low filled with venom.

Alpha was unphased, “Negative. It fits the truth of the events.”

He turned to face her fully, eyes burning with rage and malice, mouth twisted into a snarl with teeth bared. Preservation subroutines engaged in Alpha, reserved for cases where death or dismemberment was imminent.

++HE IS ALL POWERFUL++

++HE IS ALL KNOWING++

Alpha’s legs moved on their own volition, taking a small step back, away from the Dark King, away from death.

In an instant the Dark King’s features melted into a warm smile, “Fair enough I suppose. The humans have a saying. Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice… you can’t get fooled again…” he chuckled, “still doesn’t make any sense.”

Alpha blinked, “I fail to see the relevance.”

The Dark King rolled his eyes, “Epsilon!”

Across the compound the two remaining dark princes looked up. The one with a bandolier of magic bags loped over. Unlike Alpha or Omicron, he was clothed, his frame wrapped in cloths and rags made to resemble a hooded robe. Coming to a rest before Alpha and the Dark King he dropped into an elaborate bow, “how might I be of service father?”

The Dark King didn’t even bother to look down at Epsilon, his attention returning to the horizon, “Alpha, is wondering why I keep falling for Boonchuy’s blatant diversionary attacks.”

Epsilon looked up, his frame was similar to Alpha’s but far less armoured, with thinner facial features and exposed wiring between his joints where they showed beneath his makeshift robe, “forgive me, but I thought she was the smart one?”

Alpha registered the insult, logging it for future reference, and retribution. Despite this her voice remained neutral, not betraying so much as a hint of annoyance, “I am.”

A buzz of electric noise escaped Epsilon’s voice box, intended to approximate a sigh but coming across closer to a record scratch, “well clearly, you’re not smart enough to grasp the higher mysteries. Tell me dear sister, what is necessary for our father’s victory?”

Alpha answered without hesitation, “Elimination of the rebel elements.”

“No.”

Alpha’s eyes narrowed, “incorrect.”

Epsilon carried on talking as if his sister had not spoken, “The calamity box and the associated prophecy are all that matters. Controlling them breeds victory, all other concerns are secondary.”

“Mysticism has no place on the battlefield.”

Epsilon’s eyes narrowed, “you’re starting to sound like Upsilon, sister.”
“Enough.” The Dark King’s eyes flipped between them, “this discussion bears consideration, but not if you two descend into childish argument.” He gestured to the ship that was touching down at the other end of the compound, “Come. For now, let us evaluate what damage Sash and Marcy have done.”

As the four of them made their way to the ship the fifth member of the group prowled up beside them. The Dark King’s eyes gleamed and a grin played on his lips as it approached, “find anything interesting out there, Delta?”

The ghoulish features of Delta grinned back at the Dark King. Unlike his siblings, Delta had a fully articulated jaw, filled with razor-sharp needle-like teeth that made a rattling sound as he spoke. His limbs were long and gaunt, ending in dainty and dexterous digits. Out of all his siblings he alone retained the cloak-bot cloaking device. Its blue glow lit up his face from below, enhancing his already haunting visage. He raised a single digit up for the Dark King to inspect, a small smear of red liquid spread across it, “I found some of her blood, Father… I would like… mooooore…” the words sent shivers through his teeth, making a sound akin to a wind chime.

The Dark King grinned, reaching out he rubbed the top of the frobot’s terrifying skull-like head, his clawed gauntlet scrapping against the dark metal, “you’re such a little scamp Delta, how could I say no to you?”

Anne was still getting used to flying, not that she was clumsy in the air, or was in any way struggling to control her movement while in flight. No, what Anne struggled with the most was wrapping her head around the fact that she, Anne Boonchuy, was soaring through the air like some kind of superhero. When Sprig, Marcy, or Sasha had asked her to describe how it felt, she’d said it was basically like swimming. That was mostly accurate, sure, but in all honesty, Anne really couldn’t put the experience into words. How do you describe colour to a blind person or the smell of chocolate to someone born without a nose?

It was intoxicating, the rush of air, the power coursing through her muscles, the slight metallic tang to the air from the energy discharging around her, it was such a complex experience she doubted she’d ever be able to really explain it to anyone, even if she spent the rest of her life trying to do so.

She was flying low now, clipping the treetops as she flew past them. She reached a hand down, gently caressing the lush green foliage as it passed underneath her, tickling her outstretched digits. Anne closed her eyes, allowing the sounds and smells of the forest below to seep into her, filling her senses, temporarily drowning out the fire and fury that danced constantly in the back of her mind nowadays.

The war was tearing Amphibia apart, often quite literally. It had started off well enough, in the days after Sasha’s thousands had thrown their lot in with the Rebellion, declaring their commitment to a free amphibia. She remembered how excited Marcy had been, as she tallied up the numbers, how she’d stayed up until the crack of dawn sorting through requisition logs and troop movements so that Anne and Sasha could get some sleep. She remembered how Sasha had been reduced to a sobbing mess when every message of support was delivered with the phrase, ‘We forgive you’. She also remembered how quiet everything got when Grime read out the first casualty report.

The Dark King had not pulled his punches in the slightest. He was bringing the full force of his wrath to bear upon those unfortunates within his reach. The largest towns to declare secession were hit hardest, with ships raining fire down upon the streets and frobots moving in to wipe out any remaining pockets of resistance. By the end of the first day, they’d lost contact with almost a quarter of all the groups that reached out initially.

The rebels were spread far and wide across Amphibia, each group fighting their own personal war against the Dark King’s forces. While Marcy, Grime, and Beatrix worked tirelessly to bring the disparate rebel movements under a coherent command structure, Sasha and Anne had taken it upon themselves to buy them time.

The plan was rather simple, Anne would strike hard points in the Neo-Imperial network, factories, fortresses, excreta and bust them up. Inevitably, reports of her presence filtered back to the Dark King. From Marcy and their own brief encounter, Sasha was certain the Dark King would prioritize Anne’s capture above all else. Furthermore, Marcy had elaborated on the limitations of the calamity box’s portal generation ability. There was a cool-down period, stretched out considerably if the box was being used for other simultaneous activities, such as a massive industrial complex or maintaining a wireless connection to a helmet. Unless the Dark King wanted to risk serious damage to the box through overuse, he’d be restricted to a minimum of a day’s downtime between portal uses while the factories were running or an hour’s if the factories shut down.

Once the Dark King arrived at her location Anne would get the hell out of dodge, take a breather and then rinse and repeat. All the while, Sasha would be raiding armouries, ambushing patrols, and striking other such relatively soft targets to arm and relieve pressure from the nascent Rebellion. Under this scheme the Dark King would be forced onto the defensive, unable to ignore Anne lest she be given free reign to wreck his most important facilities and unable to respond to Sasha’s raids as the cost for stopping one of her raids paled in comparison to the loss of an entire hour’s worth of production.

Anne liked the plan, as it seemingly placed the Dark King in an unwinnable scenario. Sasha was a little less optimistic, however, the Dark King would adapt quickly. This strategy would only work for a few days, maybe a week if they were lucky before the Dark King devised his own strategy to counter them, or worse still, capture Anne when she was out there all alone.

With that final thought on her mind, Anne was brought back to reality as the steady burn in her muscles and lungs began building past the level of comfort. She flew lower still, sailing only a couple of meters above the ground lest her body give out mid-flight. Her stamina while transformed had improved significantly since her first fight with King Andrias, and every day that she set out cruising through the crystal blue sky she felt like she came back ever stronger, more attuned to the raging blue energy, able to hold onto the power for just that little bit longer each time.

The exhaustion still hit like a truck.

Anne blinked, arms sagging at her sides as her speed dropped. Her vision was fading, darkening as her lungs screamed for air.

Almost there.

Her foot bumped against a fallen tree trunk. She didn’t even feel the impact, only aware of it from the tell-tale sound of rubber from her only remaining shoe bouncing off wood.

Just a little further.

The effort proved too much. With a dull thud, Anne tumbled gently to the mossy floor of the forest, her speed having fallen so much that she all but settled to the ground like a falling leaf as the blue glow left her body. Rolling onto her side and sucking in much-needed oxygen, Anne was dimly aware of footsteps approaching her.

A voice called out to her, but she was unable to make out the words from the rhythmic beat of her heart playing a drum solo inside her ears. Rubbing her eyes Anne slowly sat up, her face slightly numb, “wat-wuz-that?”

Sprig handed her a canteen of clean water, “I said, that’s got to be a new record.”

Gratefully taking the proffered drink Anne emptied the canteen in one go. Wiping excess liquid from her lips she blinked again and shivered, clearing her vision and the pins and needles that had been peppering her body, “where are we?”

Spig tilled his head side to side as he did some estimates, “like… about two dozen yards from camp.”

“No way!” Anne accepted another canteen from Sprig, this time dumping the contents on her brow where it steamed slightly, catching the last remnants of calamity energy that clung to Anne’s hair like static electricity. She pouted, “man… I shouldn’t have farted around so much up there; I could have made it if I hadn’t been daydreaming…”

“Wouldn’t it have helped though? I mean it’s extra propulsion and…” he trailed off as he noticed the incredulous look Anne was giving him, “…yeah okay maybe… maybe not that.”

“Sprig. I’m the symbol of the Rebellion, what would people think if they saw that flying over them?”

The two stared solemnly at each other, unblinking before Anne’s lower lip finally began trembling, “hardly… the sound of freedom.” Laughter echoed through the once-silent woods as the young girl and frog doubled over in a laughing fit, unable to maintain their composure in light of the ridiculousness of the conversation.

Anne held a hand to her mouth, she hadn’t laughed like that in a long time and the ordeal had given her hiccups, “let’s… let’s get to camp and -HIC- and kick out feet up a bit.”

Sprig was wiping tears from his eyes with a nearby leaf, “yeah, I could go for that.”

Anne gave him a sideways glance, her chest occasionally spasming from the hiccups, “What do you -HIC- mean, ‘you could go for that’? That’s all you’ve been doing -HIC- for the last three days!”

“And it was really nice,” Sprig spread his arms out defensively, “what do you want me to do, lie?”

“Whatever.” Anne stood up, “Let’s -HIC- just go.”

Anne and Sprig’s camp was not much more than a tent, a makeshift firepit, an even more makeshift hammock that Sprig had failed no less than twelve times to set up, and the curled-up form of Domino 2 who had fashioned a makeshift bed for herself out of a pile of moss and soft leaves. As they walked into camp Anne noted that Domino 2 didn’t even stir, dead to the world as she slept, which it seemed she did for almost twenty hours a day. As Anne plopped down in the hammock Sprig made his way over to their tent and began unpacking some of the snacks Hop Pop had provided them with for their mission.

Tossing a cricket muffin to Anne he picked a handful of baby mantis cookies for himself and sat down on a stump to begin demolishing them. The pair’s peaceful afternoon was soon broken by the beat of wings approaching from above. Holding the muffin to block the sun Anne squinted up at the approaching object. It wasn’t a drone or a killamoth, it was far too… bird-shaped.

Joe Sparrow landed with a thump, his wings sending up a cloud of dust and gust of wind that knocked Anne out of her hammock with a yelp and caused Domino 2 to glare a hiss from her bed. Completely oblivious to the destruction her arrival had wrought Marcy leapt from the back of the sparrow, almost landing on top of Sprig who fell backwards off his stump, desperately grabbing at the cookies before they fell onto the forest floor.

Poking her head up Anne smiled weakly, “Hey Mar-Mar… you look… excited.”

“You have no idea! Whoops! Sorry Sprig.” Marcy hopped over the young frog who was floundering on the ground, reaching down to help him up, “careful you dropped you…” she paused, a small pink page had fallen out of Sprig’s pocket. It was ancient, yet bore no inscription or markings, “woah, what’s this?”

Sprig shrugged, speaking around a mouthful of cookie, “mmmf, found it in the Plantar tunnels, its just some mail someone forgot to write out, it was even in an envelope.”

Marcy ran her fingers over the paper, excitedly flipping it over in her hands, “this is the paper they use to write royal mail on before the fall of the first Newtopian empire! Only members of the royal family or members of the court were allowed to use it… they tree they made this stuff from went extinct centuries ago!” She delicately brandished the page, “please, please, please tell me you kept the envelop!”

“Why would I keep some silly old envelope?” He immediately recoiled at the expression that crossed Marcy’s face, “I mean… it’s probably still in the tunnels… back at Wartwood… if the Dark King didn’t burn them…”

Anne placed her hand on Marcy’s shoulder, “Hey, Mar-Mar, focus, what are you doing here?”

Marcy spun and grabbed Anne by the shoulders, “Sasha just got back from her last raid, and ooooooooohhhhhhh boyyyyyy Anna-Banana, she outdid herself this time!”

Anne’s head flopped back and forth as Marcy shook her, “Mar-Mar I- Marcy, please I’m still a bit motion sick.”

Immediately releasing her friend Marcy hopped back, “oh shoot, sorry Anne.” She grinned sheepishly and waved her hands up, “I just… it’s too exciting.”

Anne blinked away the rising nausea, holding up her hand to Marcy, “It’s okay, just, take a breath and tell us why you’re here. Sasha wanted me to hit at least one more target before we headed back-to-back.”

“Oh, yeah, Sasha.” Marcy clasped her hands together, “Well Sasha said you met some guy- no, guys? Whatever. Hivemind! She said you met this hivemind guy(s?) called Gary who could, like, join their minds together and think as one and well I thought that since Sasha found what she did that they could-”

“Marcy, stop!” Anne rubbed the side of her temple, “what did Sasha find?”

“A map!”

Sprig swallowed and popped another cookie into his mouth, “oh like a map of all the Dark King’s forces so we can see where they’re all deployed? Awesome!”

Marcy shook her head, “No, I mean, yes but that stuff’s kinda useless. I mean the Dark King would know that we know where his forces are; but then again if we know, that he knows, that we know, we can work with that; however, if he knows, that we know, that he knows, that we know-”

“MARCY!”

“Right, sorry. Ships!”

Anne buried her face in her hands, the fact that she had low blood sugar and was dehydrated was not helping, “what do ships have to do with anything.”

“You’re not thinking about it right Anne.” Marcy gestured over to Domino 2, who was giving Joe Sparrow the evilest eye possible as the bird was edging ever closer to her warm and fluffy bed, “Domino 2 is great and all but the moths aren’t going to cut it against starships in a full-on fight.”

“Well yeah, but that was never the plan with them.”

Marcy starred at Anne like she’d just spoken in a foreign language, “I’m gonna chalk it up to you being a little disoriented post superpower, but I really feel like you’re not as enthusiastic as you should be.”

Anne stared dumbly at Marcy for a moment longer before suddenly things clicked. Her eyes went wide, “you found us some starships!”

Marcy was practically vibrating, “yeah! Completely unattended, ready and waiting for us to pick them up!”

Sprig scratched his head, “where are they?”

Marcy paused, “Okay yeah, I’ll be honest, there might be reason they’re unattended…”

Anne froze, eyes locking with Marcy’s, “Mar-Mar… where are they?”

“…At the bottom of the sea.”

Andrias had come to hate the council meetings. Around the throne room was assembled the truly despicable crowd of sociopaths and psychopaths that made up the Dark King’s advisor board. Some were organic beings like him, most notably General Nir. The newt who had taken over command of the Newtopian Guard after Yunan’s treason wore a traditional blue Newtopian officer tunic over a stout body that hadn’t seen field operation in years. His face was square and he sported a bristling grey moustache that completely obscured his lips. He was by outward appearance a gruff, old-fashioned creature, part of the ancient martial tradition of the great city. Andrias knew better.

Also present were Triple B. Though their monopoly on R&D within the reborn empire had diminished somewhat in recent days, Bartley, Branson, and Blair remained integral elements of the royal court. Andrias had deliberately sat himself at the far end of the throne room from them, their incessant chatter was draining at best.

The rest of the council was composed entirely of the new frobot models the previously mentioned trio had concocted for the Dark King. Strike-bots, or dark princes as they were becoming increasingly known, slunk about the chamber. Out of the dozen in service, only three were actually present in the throne room. The rest, along with the Dark King, appeared in hologram form, their images projected perfectly by the many eye-like projectors of the core that was at the moment curled around the pillar atop which sat the calamity box.

Andrias hated them all. Alpha was, to use a human turn of phrase, a cold-hearted bitch of a machine, eager to point out the flaws in others while blind to her own. Beta was as greasy as any slimy salesman or two-faced politician, eager to please but even more eager to sleaze. Gamma was a monster pure and simple, only useful with a weapon in his hand and an enemy in front of him. Yet somehow Delta outdid him in the monster department, that thing was almost as twisted as the Dark King himself. Andrias could see why he was the favourite. Epsilon and Upsilon were full of themselves, each desperate to prove their craft was superior to the other. Theta had no substance, Andrias had known puddles with more depth than that prideful buffoon. Lambda was probably the only genuine one of them, and only because he had told Andrias point blank that he saw him as a potential threat. Andrias almost respected Lambda for his boldness, almost. Omicron was a bastard, worse still a bastard without any independent thought. Without command, the stupid brute either shut down or lashed out at those around him, entirely without thought for the consequences. Sigma was by any analysis mean, since her tenure over Newtopia began Sigma had all but demolished the society Andrias had spent millennia constructing. It would be hard to forgive anyone for that, especially if they were Sigma. Tau was slippery, always on the lookout for bits of information she could use against people in the future. Despite not talking much she was probably the one Andrias enjoyed spending time around the least as every interaction felt like walking through a minefield.

He paused, glancing down at the figure standing motionless at his side, Omega. Omega was… not much if he was honest. The youngest of the dark princes seemed rudimentary in comparison to their more modified siblings. They lacked any kind of specialized frame, being mainly an improvement over the mark two cloak-bot design that Triple B had pressed into mass production after the platform’s success in Proteus. Their personality was also far more basic, with the Dark King not even bothering to assign them gendered programming. The reason of course was Omega was, as their name suggested, the last of the experimental models. They would be the template for the next generation of frobot, once the resources of Earth had been extracted of course, there had barely been enough precious metals to construct the twenty units Triple B had thrown together and even then, the Dark King had ripped eight of them apart for failing to meet his standards.

Omega’s eyes flicked up, noticing Andrias’ gaze, “is something wrong sire?”

Andrias shook his head, “just… deep in thought Omega.” He hesitated, “your siblings usually refer to me as brother…”

“You seemed… unhappy with such familiarity.” Omega's eyes flicked back and forth between the other beings in the room, “I made adjustments so as not to antagonize you.”

Andrias was silent for a moment, studying the frobot closely. Omega was certainly different. They lacked the ego that weighed down the other dark princes, or the twists in their personality that made them reflections of the being they called father. Andrias stroked his beard, eyes narrowing, “shouldn’t you be over with Sigma and Beta? There won’t be much of note happening at this end of the council, my work to prepare the invasion force continues as expected.”

“I…” the frobot shifted, simulating unease. No. Experiencing unease. Andrias had seen the schematics, the work that went into these creations. They were complex and able to express and register a wide range of emotions. Well, except for maybe Alpha. Still, even Alpha was susceptible to fear, the Dark King had been very insistent the Dark Princes should feel fear and pain just as any organic being would. It still disgusted Andrias. Omega glanced up at Andrias, “I feel… more at ease by your side than at my siblings’… they do not… like to hear me talk.”

Andrias felt something twist inside his chest, probably a lose wire, he’d have to check on it later. He nodded, “very well, but don’t blame me if you miss out on the conversation.” He grimaced, there was no way he’d be so lucky.

“We’ve had a bad week boys and girls.” The Dark King’s features were venomous, radiating malice even in hologram form. He gestured to the map that floated before the council which depicted the movement of forces and rebels’ attacks across the empire, “Anne Boonchuy has struck three of our most important factory complexes and all the while what forces we can spare from the muster fields are spread thin across our territory. Rebel attacks are increasing in number and boldness, despite the losses they sustained at Greengrove, Fallowfield and, Hornhallow.” As the three towns blinked out of existence on the map the Dark King’s eyes scanned the room, “I have my own ideas on how we will proceed, but I wish to know where the rest of you stand on this matter…”

The instant he finished speaking Alpha stepped forward. The Dark King’s eye’s betrayed a hint of bemusement at her boldness, “you have something you wish to say, Alpha?”

“A reformulation of strategy father.”

Beta who was leaning against the walls of the throne room nudged Sigma, his voice box registering an electronic snort of laughter, “Two slaves say he kills her.”

Sigma didn’t so much as blink, “Done.”
Alpha continued, ignoring her two brothers, “It is my assessment that we are focusing on the wrong threat. My estimations show that the Wartwood Rebellion lacks the means to conduct a siege or assault of Newtopia or even the inner territories. Using current models, we can predict that it will take two weeks for rebels to reach a point where they can match our ground forces, however, they lack any means of contesting our aerospace supremacy.” Alpha reached out, manipulating the hologram so that it registered an image of Earth, “I, therefore, posit we accelerate our invasion of the human planet, secure the necessary resources deposits and then turn our full attention to the Wartwood rebellion.”

Delta peered down at the hologram, beady orange eyes examining it in great detail. His eyes fixed upon the population graph, watching it tick up in real time, “so much prey… how many do you need father?”

The Dark King smiled, “Oh… I’ll be greedy and say one billion but worry too much about that Delta. I’ve always believed in survival of the fittest…”

Delta’s digits clicked together in excitement, “mammal hide is so much more resilient… would I look good in a hat of ape skin?”

Once again Alpha ignored her brother, “by this strategy we will eliminate the greatest threat to our future plans and allow us to focus our efforts on internal stability.”

“Greatest threat… listen to yourself!” Epsilon waves his hand about, “The human with the calamity powers should concern us, not the primitive planet they came from.”

Alpha's voice box dropped a level, “You deny the value of the resource we would extract.”

“Materialism is insignificant in the face of the power of the calamity box.” Epsilon held a finger up towards his sister, “You would do well to remember that!”

Delta’s eyes flicked to Epsilon, “I would very much like to hunt the child. Children are always the most fun, their imaginations too much of the legwork.”

“Epsilon you’re as blind as you are broken.” Upsilon, though based on the same rough frame as his siblings was practically unrecognizable underneath all the accessories he’d affixed to his body. Tools, readouts, sensors and additional cooling units double his bulk, making him look more like a pile of frobots than a single unit. His voice box harmonized with the machinery growing off him, layering his words with a metallic hum, “The calamity box serves us still as an excellent power source, we need not waste resources securing something that is already firmly within our grasp.”

The more fail Epsilon trembled with rage, rags shaking free as he turned his attention to his hulking brother, “Ignorant pile of junk! Did you replace your memory unit with a plasma torch? The prophecy-”

“Ah yes, the prophecy.” Upsilon seemingly rolled his eyes but underneath the wire it was impossible to tell, “we need to govern the empire based on Olm superstition. Were that the Olms truly gifted with foresight they would not all be dead now.”

The creak of metal was audible as Epsilon’s grip tightened beyond advised mechanical limits, “prophecy is fickle magic, you would be wise not to so casually dismiss it were you capable of such higher thought.”

Before Upsilon could interject Lambda’s cold voice cut across the chamber, “I for one agree with Epsilon, Marcy Wu as too much insider knowledge to be ignored. In concert with Sasha Waybright’s recent tactical successes and Anne Boonchuy’s raw power they present a clear and present threat to Neo-Imperial interests.”

“Yes. We should face the foe that stands before us now, not move to face another.” Omicron glared at Alpha across the throne room.

Alpha returned the glare, “Unlike you Omicron, the empire is capable of doing more than one task at a time.”

Gamma slammed his fist into the ground, his holographic image shaking in response, “enough talk! Who am I to kill!”

“Silence!” All bickering immediately ended as the Dark King's voice cut across proceedings, “I have heard all I need to.” Walking out into the centre of the assembled council the Dark King flicked his hand and the images of Amphibia and Earth appeared side by side. He turned to face them all, “both arguments have merit. The longer we delay the invasion of Earth the worse our material and logistical situation will become. Conversely, we cannot ignore the threat that the rebels present, even without taking the olm’s prophecy into account all it takes is a lucky raid on the castle to seize the calamity box and everything we have worked for will crumble to dust.”

“So…” the Dark King held out his hands and the holographic representations floated down into them so that his hands engulfed them in a firm grip, “we will pursue both angles at once, with slight modifications to our overall strategy in both realms.” He held up the representation of Amphibia, “the current rebel strategy to tie down our forces has been quite effective; however, they ultimately lack firepower and manpower. We should expect them to devise means to remedy this. Alpha, lambda, the two of you will be in charge of this investigation. Find out what the rebels are after and be there before they strike. Gamma, you will report directly to them, go where they send you, and kill what you find.”

The three princes nodded, satisfied with their role. The Dark King held up the representation of Earth, “this… will require a bit more fineness. So, sit down and pay attention. Delta, Omicron, Tau, this is where you’ll be focused.”

The Dark King pulled up some images gathered by recon drones sent to Earth, “human military capabilities, despite having undergone tremendous development since our last survey of the planet remain rather primitive. They have developed high-powered kinetic munitions and over-the-horizon combat capabilities but all that pales in comparison to their greatest weapons…” The throne room was bathed in pale golden light as a representation of colossal explosion formed on the earth hologram, “this is a fusion bomb.”

Upsilon leaned forward, “such beauty…”

Epsilon scoffed, “Hardly planetary scale, it pales in comparison to the calamity gems.”

“The technology is based on rather primitive atomic science but one must appreciate the beautiful simplicity that elicits such destructive power.” The Dark King paused lost in thought as he watched the small mushroom cloud engulf a sizable portion of the continent it had been detonated once, “were it so that the humans could bridge the dimensions we might be in trouble, but alas for them their weapons can only be deployed on their own planet, making use of such tactics as last resort for their leaders.” He pulled up a new set of images, this time of humans in black suits and sunglasses, “which brings us to the only other aspect of human civilization that poses a threat. The human species is largely decentralized. The main governing body, known as the United Nations or more simply, UN.” He paused once more and smiled, “You will find many such abbreviations in human society, I personally chalk it up to a lack of intellect, they don’t handle lengthy terminology well.” He turned back to the images, “But as I was saying, the humans are generally oriented around highly irrational bodies, more concerned with sentimentality than actual substance. Popularity is often the first concern of the human oversight body, not results, as such I expect these organizations to fall in rapid order once it becomes clear to them that resisting a sustained orbital bombard will severely affect their public image. That being said, it seems the humans are aware of this, and have developed far more rational organs of their nations to counteract total idiocy. These entities, composed of the more intelligent members of the species are… creatively called: intelligence agencies.”

A round of hearty laughter followed this announcement.

“They put their smart people in smart clubs?”

“How long did it take them to come up with that?”

“What a joke of a species!”

The Dark King waved his hand to restore order, “Despite the humour of it, I warn you to not underestimate this sect of humanity. If humans are going to develop a way to fight back against us, it will be thanks to one of these organizations. They have begun doing so already.” Images flicked across the hologram, a slender dark-skinned man in a tight suit conversing with several other humans in similar if less flashy attire, an androgynous human with thick blonde hair testing an energy rifle at a firing range, and finally a van marked with human lettering: FBI. The Dark King held on the final image, “This group is already somewhat aware of our plans to invade the planet. Though they know precious little about us we should expect them to have already begun preparations. If our invasion is to be accelerated, they must be eliminated or controlled. The two individuals you saw before, I believe they are the local leaders of this group, shackling them or eliminating them is of immediate priority. With the leaders under our thumb, we can assess the situation and escalate from there. If we move carefully, we may be able to spread our control throughout the entire organization.” The Dark King flipped back to the hydrogen bomb detonation, “from there we will secure access to the human’s fusion weapon arsenal, with enough local firepower to exterminate life on the planet the human nations will have no choice but to surrender to us in short order.”

With a final flick of his wrist the Dark King terminate the projection, standing alone before the council, “Delta, Omicron, Tau, I am tasking you with this mission. Find the Federal Bureau of Investigation agents X and Jenny, shackle at least one of them for future use.” a cruel grin tugged at the corners of his lips, “of course, we only need one of them… I leave the fate of the redundant human up to you.”

At the back of the throne room Omega watched Delta and Omicron exchange a glance, Delta’s hungry while Omicron’s was cold. They shifted, the discomfort was back, especially whenever Delta was involved. Omega turned, “sire… I am unsure-” they trailed off as their eyes fell upon the empty space beside them. Andrias was gone.

Chapter Text

It was dusk in the amphibia periphery, though you’d be hard-pressed to tell in this area of the continent. Thick clouds of smog, drifting east from the industrial heartland around Newtopia choked out the sky, rendering everything in a thin veneer of greyish green. There were no sounds of nature anymore, that which could migrate was gone and that which could not was poisoned or decaying. The ground was softening, becoming undone as the poisoned groundwater gnawed away at the roots of the plants holding it together. Gloom in every sense of the word.

“Scouts are back from their second sweep captain. Still nothing, the place looks deserted.”

Bufo ran a hand down his scarred face, it came to rest gripping his overgrown beard contemplatively as he took in the lieutenant’s words. The past few months had not been kind to the master of East Tower. His armour was torn and scorched with each smear of burned mantis leather a painful reminder of a near-fatal miss. He’d lost weight, all of them had. With the continent in chaos, farmers weren’t exactly growing crops for the toads to take as tribute, in fact, there weren’t any tributaries left to levy tax from. No tax meant no food, and since the neo-imperial forces in the area were all of the mechanical persuasion raiding their depots yielded rather little by way of sustenance. They’d resorted to foraging and hunting but as the war turned swamp and forest into a congealed mass of mud, blood, and oil even that was not enough. He shook his head, “And they checked for prints?”

“Yes sir, no signs of cloak-bots, all the prints are at least a day old.” Lieutenant Incilius wasn’t originally from East Tower. Promoted by Commander Cameron Waybright during the siege of Newtopia, Incilius had been one of the few north tower officers to keep their wits about them after Captain Aldo and his tower had been reduced to ash. Rallying what toads he could, Incilius took off after Bufo, who had fled along with his east company almost an hour earlier, at the time blissfully unaware of the massacre he was leading his warriors away from.

Bufo had taken an immediate liking to Incilius, his gruff no-nonsense attitude fitting neatly into Bufo’s strict command style. The captain furrowed his brow, “what do you make of this lieutenant?”

The toad’s mouth twitched hidden beneath his own developing beard, “A trap sir. Alternatively: Newtopian forces are spread thinner than we thought, or they cleared the depot out and now it’s just an empty box.”

“Then let us pray it is not the latter,” with a grunt Bufo clambered onto his feet, using the long wooden club at his side to stabilize himself, “company! Prepare to move out.”

Incilius watched through lidded eyes as the toads began seizing weapons and moved into their marching columns, “And what if it’s a trap, sir?”

Swinging the club onto his shoulder Bufo held Incilius’ gaze. The two toads stared at each other unblinking, their expression impassive and eyes dead. After a while, Bufo shrugged, “These toads know why they’re here, we all chose this.”

“Of course, captain.” Incilius’ eyes glazed over, “death or dishonour.”

The frobot compound was silent as the grave. Like all the installations belonging to the Neo-Newtopian Empire, it had cropped up overnight about a week ago, erected in a matter of hours by a tireless team of frobot assembly units. By Bufo’s estimation, more than a thousand such installations had been placed throughout the continent all to secure the Dark King’s reborn empire. Setting aside the atrocities places like these churned out on a daily basis, Bufo couldn’t help but respect the logistical genius it must have taken to enact the scheme in such a short period of time. The allocation of resources alone should have taken months, yet the imperials had done the impossible, all within a single day.

That being said, these strong points were hardly marvels of engineering. Being little more than an arrangement of corrugated steel boxes, surrounded by a perimeter wall all fabricated out of the same material, they provided practically zero protection to their occupants against ordinance. They were only meant to be points on a map, staging posts from which the Dark King’s forces could strike out against agitators and rebel holdouts. In short, they were a perfect encapsulation of neo-imperial thought:

Be the predator, not the prey.

He mulled the unofficial motto of the reborn empire over in his mind. The sentiment wasn’t entirely offensive to his own sensibilities. In toad culture might did indeed make right. There was a reason captains were the most fearsome warriors in their respective towers, Aldo, as always, being the exception of course. The senior leader of the toad army had not achieved that position simply by living long enough (though that was a feat in and of itself). Even in his decrepit state, he had been formidable in manners that trumped physical might, there had been none that dared make him their enemy, none that outlived him anyway.

“It’s hard to believe he’s gone…”

Incilius glanced at Bufo. The two were standing in front of the compound’s main gate, the rest of the toad army standing behind them in battle formation, waiting in grim silence as three toad scouts clambered over the palisade to swing open the said gate. He nodded, his mind practically never abandoned the subject of his former master, “Aldo… was more of an institution than a mere toad. The army won’t be the same without him. Amphibia won’t be the same without him…”

Bufo pursed his lips, “how old was that fossil anyways?”

A wry chuckle shook Incilius’ barreled chest, “beats me, Aldo was never one for idle chit-chat.” He scratched his chin, “though, from all the stories of Barrel the Brave he told, who is to say he was not from the age of the old empire…”

“Heh… were it anyone else I’d say that’s outlandish.” Bufo grunted in bemusement, “he did tell stories though…”

“I never had you pegged as an Aldo’s Epics enjoyer.” A smile threatened to break onto Incilius’ face, only succeeding in twisting the corner of his mouth to a neutral position from its normal dour orientation. Aldo’s Epics were shorthand for the myriad tales told by the ancient toad. In a bygone era the term had likely been meant as an insult, but as the ages eroded the memory of toads Aldo’s Epics became the fundamental to toad culture. They were never written down or recounted to outsiders, the understanding being that only toads should know toad history. Many newts had sought an audience with Aldo for the expressed purpose of cataloging his words, but all had been turned away.

“You don’t need to know everything about me, lieutenant.”

“Of course not, my apologies.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, watching as the toad scouts ungainly clambered up the metal wall on grappling hooks. Eventually, however, the lieutenant’s curiosity overcame his apprehension, “what was your favourite?”

Bufo winced as one of the toads finally made it over the palisade only to fall down into the compound with a yelp of pain and a dull thud. He raised an eyebrow at Incilius, “as if there’s any question.”

As the compound doors slid open with a vicious scream of metal on stone Incilius shook his head, “I asked a question. Care to answer it?”

“The only good one.”

“Which is?”

Bufo shouldered his club and began walking towards the gate, the toad army falling in step behind him, “the Hammer and the Anvil.”

Sure, enough the compound was deserted, apparently cleaned out too. Bufo was about to call a retreat when one of the scouts that had climbed the wall came running around a corner, almost bowling the captain over onto his rear. Incilius grabbed his arm, steadying Bufo. Pulling his arm free with a grunt of annoyance the captain eyed the scout fiercely, “This apology better be good…”

“Sorry, captain I-” the scout dithered on the spot, “I- well… there’s a frobot outside one of the buildings.”

Instantly Bufo was alert, “Show me.”

As the scout led the captain away Incilius gave out orders in a hoarse whisper, “Defensive formation, first squad hunker down in that building. I know you’re low on charge but if you see something coming at us, I want no hesitation on covering fire. Second squad follow the captain. Third squad, you’re with me, we’re going to run overwatch. Fourth squad get back to the gate and hold it at all costs, we need to be sure we can high tail it out of here in a pinch.”

Peaking around the corner Bufo’s eyes narrowed. There it was, plain as day. A standard frobot unit, standard equipment too. It stood outside the entrance to one of the many storage warehouses of the complex. As Bufo looked closer, he noticed symbols engraved on the frobots chest. No, not engraved, burned. Five words in amphibian but written with the toad grammar variant of the language: talk to me for weapons.

The scout gripped his spear tightly, at the same time chewing his lip in anxiety, “What do you make of it, captain?”

Turning his gaze off of the frobot Bufo scanned the nearby building. There was no sign of movement or activity. If there were more frobots here, they were staying well hidden. Even cloak-bots would make noise or leave footprints in the thin layer of dust and ash that had fallen in a light dusting on the compound floor. Bufo was about to give orders when a voice ran out over the silence, “Bufo of East Tower.” The voice was warped as if passing through intense signal interference. Despite this, the words were comprehensible, “You are not in danger. Please. Approach.”

Bufo gave out a slight growl of annoyance, but with little else to do in this situation he stepped out into the open, “Show yourself!”

The frobot turned to face him spreading its arms out wide. It was then that Bufo noticed the eye colour was different. Not the usual crimson or occasional burning orange, instead this unit’s eyes glowed with a faint yellow, like that of sun rays passing through dense clouds. He also noticed the voice was coming from the frobot’s voice box, “This will have to do for now I’m afraid. You’ll understand why soon.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bufo noted Incilius and the rest of his toads fanning out, surrounding the building, those with ranged weapons training them on the frobot. Relaxing his posture the captain approached the frobot, eyes still wearily examining its movements, “So you’re not a frobot?”

“This unit is my representative to you captain. It is disconnected from the rest of the frobot network and had its weapon systems discharged. Should you wish to attack it, it is defenceless.” The frobot lifted its energy arm cannon up horizontally for Bufo’s inspection, showing the side panelling of the weapon had been ripped open to expose the dead innards of the weapon.

Bufo’s expression did not change, “did you empty this camp?”

“Yes. I knew you were planning on assaulting the garrison and decided to provide you with a gesture of goodwill.”

“Why?”

The frobot’s head tilted, gesturing back towards the building it was standing in front of, “I’m sorry, but could we continue this discussion inside? The sky has eyes and ears.” Bufo glanced upward but the frobot shook its head, “Dragonfly drones when cloaked and high enough in the sky are totally undetectable to the naked eye. Come inside and I can tell you more.” Noticing Bufo’s glare it shrugged, “If you want to take precautions you can bring as many toads inside as you like.”

“So, you can trigger a bomb and kill us all in one fell swoop?”

“Well, I do have a lot of firepower stored in there so I suppose I could if I wanted to, but if all I wanted to do was kill you, I’d have blow up the entire compound the moment you all set foot inside.”

A snarl crossed Bufo's features, “what’s to stop us from destroying the frobot and leaving with all your weapons?”

“Nothing, but if all you’re after is a little extra firepower then go ahead, clearly I’m speaking to the wrong toad.” When Bufo made no further action the frobot nodded, “Then follow, we must speak.”

Bufo held up his hand, “I’ll handle this, everyone else stay clear of the building.” And with that, the master of East Tower followed the strange frobot into the warehouse.

Were the situation not so dire Bufo would have danced for joy upon seeing the interior of the warehouse. The place was filled with portable energy cannons, laser weaponry, and a massive stockpile of smart missiles and similar munitions. In the corner, he even spied what looked like an artillery platform. Clamping down on his excitement he let out a snort, “Nice collection you’ve got there, this doesn’t look like frobot weapons though.”

“You are correct” The frobot led Bufo through to a side room of the warehouse. Opening the door, it beckoned to him, “In here, please.” As the captain entered the room it stepped in behind him and closed the door, “All of this was originally intended for the Newtopian Guard garrison serving in Ribbitvale.”

The room was dark, illuminated only by a strange device at its center. Bufo stared at it unable to make head or tails of the mass of wire that enveloped the machine or the meaning of the numbers on the readout “How’d you divert it here? Ribbitvale’s not exactly nearby.”

“Frankly captain, the less you know about me the better for both of us. So, let’s just say I pulled some strings and fudged some numbers.” The frobot gestured to the device, “This is why you want my help.”

Bufo raised an eyebrow, “what is it ‘this’?”

Pressing a series of runes on the strange device Bufo flinched as a wave of energy passed through his body, causing his hair to stand on end. There was a high-pitched hum in the air, barely audible to his ears. The frobot collapsed to the ground, the light fading from its eyes. Before Bufo could express his shock a holographic representation of a rune appeared above the device, ‘connected’.

The same voice as earlier, still distorted, seemed to emanate from the rune, “though this machine was based on the designs of a brilliant young mind, this device is the only one of its kind. As you have witnessed firsthand it is able to completely disable any frobot unit within a one-kilometre radius.”

Giving the crumpled form of the frobot a hefty kick Bufo glanced back at the rune, “All right, colour me convinced about your usefulness. But you have yet to explain why you want to work together.”

The rune pulsated in tandem with the voice, “Because we want the same thing.”

Bufo scoffed, “Destroying the empire? Why me and not the Wartwood Rebellion? I hear Beatrix signed up with them if you’re looking for toads in particular. Hell, I’m pretty sure Grime still has Barrel’s Warhammer with him. Plenty of people want what I want, why come to me?”

“If all you want is to destroy the neo-empire, why aren’t you working with the Rebellion? My intuition tells me you and I want something more than justice Bufo. Is that the truth?”

Bufo’s face fell. He was silent for some time, eyeing the rune, thoughts churning inside his head. The rune remained silent, waiting respectfully for the captain to speak again. Finally, Bufo’s features hardened. When he spoke it was a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the machine that illuminated his scarred features, “You want the truth? I already served in a rebellion, and unlike Grime or Beatrix, I won’t abandon it! Not a second time!” His head fell, chin resting on his breastplate, “I heard what happened to my toad brothers and sisters that stayed behind when I fled back to east tower. I heard about the work camps; I heard about the executions. I saw with my own eyes North Tower reduced to ashes! I should be dead… I should have died shoulder to shoulder in the army I swore my life to… but now…” he spread his hands out wide, “whether the Dark King or the Wartwood Rebellion wins this war the toad army I knew and loved will never come back. Maybe it shouldn’t, fair enough, but any good captain should go down with his ship.”

“A death oath then…”

“We all swore one.” Bufo traced the scars on his face, their intricate design making a rough outline of his skull beneath his skin, “as we breathed in the ashes of North Tower we promised to give the toad army about one last glorious campaign. Something for the newt history books to gawk at.” Clenching his fist Bufo snarled at the rune, “satisfied? Now… tell me how I can hurt the empire…”

“There’s only one target in the empire of consequence. Aside from him, everything and everyone else is expendable and replaceable, no matter how close to the top…”

Though the static and distortion made it hard to discern the tone, Bufo caught a distinct hint of anger in the rune’s voice. He smiled, “the Dark King.”

“Precisely. I believe if we work together, we can deal a serious blow or even eliminate his imperial majesty.”

“Ha!” Bufo slapped his thigh, “and here I was thinking we didn’t have anything in common, you’re as crazy as me! Probably more so!”

“Are you not up to the challenge?”

Bufo wiped a tear of mirth away from his eye, “from what I hear of him? Absolutely not. But that’s the point, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s get started. But one thing…” Bufo leaned in, “I’m not stupid, you’re some kind of high-ranking Newtopian. Honestly, I don’t care why you want me to kill your king, but I do need a name. Something to call you by when I’m talking this over with my toads.”

The rune was silent, still. For a moment Bufo thought the connection had been terminated but then it pulsed back into life, “Anvil. You will call me Anvil.”

A slight smile curled Bufo’s lip, “Perfect.”

“Far be it for me to question your genius father but…”

The Dark King's face was playful, with a warm smile stretching across his features. His eyes, however, shone with malice that swiftly informed Epsilon he should tread lightly, “but…?”

The dark prince’s robotic frame precluded the ability to gulp in times of stress or anxiety, however, his father was well known to elicit such biological instincts in him and his siblings. The two were descending the boarding ramp of the Waterdog class fleet ship that had shuttled them home after their encounter with Anne. Alpha had been dropped off in the city so she could coordinate with the local garrison. Delta had been deposited there too, along with Omicron. The two were going to join up with Tau so they could begin preparations for their excursion to Earth. That left only Epsilon to accompany their father to the castle, whereupon he had learned whom, they were meeting. He stuttered, desperate to find the right words, “but… uh I mean, well…” sighting the unmistakable profile waiting for them by the hangar entrance Epsilon’s fear was replaced with loathing, “but Upsilon’s an idiot.”

“A pleasure to see you too brother.” The mass of tubes and mechanical accessories that was Upsilon shouted across the bay, “I assume that’s what you said at least… my audio receptors must be acting up again.”

A muted crackle of audio errors escaped Epsilon’s voice box, a frobot approximation of a curse.

The Dark King chuckled, “Play nice boys, I need both of you at your best. Save the squabbles for when the project is complete.”

“And what exactly are we working on?” Epsilon gave Upsilon a final side-eye glare before the two fell in behind the Dark King as he marched down the hallways towards the royal workshop.

“The box.”

As they entered the workshop the massive form of the Core reared up from the bench it had been leaning over. The massive robot body was enveloped in a sea of twisting tentacles that spread out from it like roots from a tree, touching practically everything in the room. Epsilon let out a short burst of white noise in surprise, “You moved the box down here?”

“The throne room is fine for displaying the calamity box but for further development a more specialized environment was necessary.” The Dark King ran his hand over the brass lid, the three gems reflected in his myriads of eyes. A series of cables and instruments were hooked up to the book, most notably the three power transfer devices taken from the temples not so long ago.

Upsilon flicked several magnifying lenses into place and examined the box closely, “power output seems stable, the loss of energy from the blue gem seems to be insignificant.”

“It’s less than insignificant actually.” The Dark King stepped back, allowing Epsilon to examine the box too, “there is no loss of output from the box, even while Anne exerts her powers.”

“So that’s why we kept following her around…” Epsilon didn’t touch the box, turning back to the Dark King, “Then it’s as we suspected, the gems aren’t the source.”

Upsilon lifted his head, “elaborate.”

“During my encounter with the once great Valeriana, I was transported to a dimension parallel to our own. At the time I thought it little more than the normal use of the calamity box to access worlds but after some time spent pondering the nature of the gems, I think they’re more akin to conduits than raw sources of power. Conduits to another dimension, one where the calamity power originates.”

Some of the tubing on Upsilon’s frame twitched, “high dimensionality would go a long way to explain the gem’s origin and world-connecting abilities. What are we to make of this theory?”

The Dark King clasped his hands together, “While your brothers and sisters fight my wars, you two are going to secure my power base. Everything stems from the calamity box, yet my control over its powers is… lacklustre.” He stared into the blue gem, “That place… the one Valeriana sent me to, I didn’t feel alone there. There was… something else. Something powerful. I could feel it, like a whale gliding beneath the water. Unseen, yet its presence unmistakable.” His teeth bared, “That thing, whatever it was, I suspect it is the source.”

Epsilon was motionless, “such an entity… it’s power would be…”

Upsilon made a whirring sound as literal cogs turned within him, “…unfathomable.”

“And that, will not stand.” The Dark King’s eyes flared up with anger, their orange light tinged with blood-red crimson, “We will continue with the original plan to power my body with calamity energy, but I will not tolerate a power greater than myself to exist! In this world, or another!” Sensing their father’s rage the two princes fell to one knee, eyes cast down. The Dark King whirled around to face them, “Find this creature, find a way for me to kill it! Find a way for me to seize its power for myself, as is my right!”

For once Epsilon and Upsilon spoke in unison, “It shall be done, majesty.”

Chapter Text

The royal chambers had always been grand. Home to the Leviathan family for a dozen generations, stretching back over five thousand years, every inch of the rooms was seeped in history. Every item was a relic plundered from a distant dimension or work of the finest Newtopian craftsman of their age. The furniture was carved from a now-extinct species of tree that had grown on the planet Verandia before the empire had triggered an ecological collapse during resource extraction. The duvet and pillows for the colossal bed were filled with the downy feathers of an avian species native to the same world as the Shadowfish. Despite the unsettling implications of one’s surroundings, the luxury of the chambers couldn’t be denied.

The Dark King gazed at his reflection in the standing mirror that reached over five meters tall. Commissioned by Queen Allisa the Titanic, whose title had been anything but hyperbole, the mirror had been hewn from a single vein of living metal which had then been paralyzed with specially designed neurotoxins. The end result was, quite honestly, no different from any silver mirror, but for the masters of the known multiverse, the idea of using a material as common as silver for such designs was ridiculous. As he admired the reflection staring back at him from the tortured creature’s frame the Dark King smirked. The efficacy of the mirror was dubious, but the entertainment value it offered? Immaculate.

He had shaven, taken a dip in the rejuvenation tank to finish the enamel repair on his broken tooth and changed out of his last suit of armour which bore the meat scars of calamity portal travel. His newest set of battleplate was still in the auto-forges but it mattered little, he was donning a new type of suit tonight, one to fit the festivities.
He winced slightly as the needle poked into his flesh, “hey!”

Lady Olivia, eyes glowing purple from the collar locked tightly around her neck, nodded compliantly, “Sorry sire, I shall exercise a greater degree of caution.”

“See that you do. It’ll take hours to get blood out of this thing.” He frowned. The tweaks made to the spore solution in the mind shackles had gone through a dozen different iterations since Lady Olivia and General Yunan had been fitted with the collars. He’d overseen the research personally at first, running the unfortunate mushroom entity locked within a castle cell through hundreds of genetic modification trials. Though the technology had progressed dramatically from the mindless automatons Olivia and Yunan had started off as the lack of control over higher thought made them poor playthings for his amusement. Sure, they could process terror and pain internally, but the deadpan expressions they constantly bore killed his enjoyment faster than the farmers he occasionally sent Yunan after.

Speaking of the dauntless general, she was standing on guard by the door. The Dark King liked to keep her close when he was about the palace or the city, ready to be let loose upon whatever unfortunate caught the cruel monarch’s ire. The Dark Princes could have filled the role, Gamma or Delta in particular were his favourite ‘children’ by virtue of their sadism, however, there was something to be said about turning a symbol of security into a monster. Seeing a grovelling rebel beg for mercy or attempt to break through Yunan’s conditioning only to be torn to shred never failed to brighten the Dark King’s mood in ways that Gamma’s unbridled rage or Delta’s menace couldn’t. Turning his attention back to the mirror he straightened his posture.

The royal finery was pristine and ornate. Festooned with sculpted coral jewellery, the coat was a warm grey, woven from the fur of killamoths. Gold trim ringed the collar and cuffs. The metal thread spun into a myriad of intricate designs, each one representing a king or queen of old, their heraldry and deeds creating a wearable history book of the reborn empire. Olivia was making the final adjustments to the piece. Assisted by half a dozen Core tentacles, she was fitting the suit to the Dark King’s athletic frame. Tightening around the waist, loosening around the shoulders. The Dark King held still, patiently waiting for Olivia to finish.

He hummed to himself as she worked. The notes were to a human ditty that had crawled out from the back of Cameron’s mind like a cockroach into the sunlight. Curiously, the name of the song eluded him. Cameron’s musical talent was laughable, so the likelihood of it being an original composition was minimal. His brow furrowed, passing through his host’s memories with a fine-tooth comb. Songs… Music… Sasha and the Sharps… he paused casting his mechanical attention over the section. Fairly standard fare. Cameron held considerable pride in his little sister’s talents, though it was slightly undermined by a significant level of jealousy.

In his mind’s eye, The Dark King rolled the playback of a particularly ingrained memory where Cameron had spent an entire afternoon attempting, and ultimately failing, to play a basic tune on a guitar. A half smile formed on his lips as the guitar was slammed into a chair after a final failed chord. He twitched, eyes narrowing, he was getting distracted. What was the name of that damn song?

With a final stitch Olivia curtsied and retreated, “it is done, majesty.”

The Dark King’s eyes blinked as he snapped back to reality. Twisting his body around to view his profile from different angles, the Dark King nodded in satisfaction, “Neatly done Lady Olivia… almost flawless.”

She remained silent; head bowed.

“But…” the word was laced with malice, delivered such that it almost sounded like a growl from an apex predator preparing to assert itself. His hand, clad in a dark burgundy silk glove struck with all the speed and precision of a serpent, thumb and index finger violently squeezing the female newt’s cheeks. He lifted her bodily, raising almost two feet into the air so that the purple glow of her eyes could be seen reflected in the blazing orange of his three central eyes. The Dark King’s features betrayed little emotion, he wasn’t angry, just setting a precedent, “No one… strikes the king, even by accident.” The fingers squeezed tighter, the pale flesh of Olivia’s face around losing what little colour they had as blood was violently forced away. His lips curled upward pensively as he pondered, she did make a neat tailor, death was probably overkill…

A small noise, barely audible even in the silent royal chambers, snapped him out of his daydreaming, metal scraping on metal. The Dark King’s head snapped around; sophisticated sensors packed into his helmet narrowing down the source, more than making up for the lack of exposure it afforded Cameron’s ears. Yunan.

The General’s face was flushed, her nostrils were flared, and her fists were balled tight. This is where the noise had originated, as the metal plates of Yunan’s gauntlets ground together. In an instant Olivia’s punishments were forgotten. The Dark King’s eyes moved rapidly back and forth, analyzing, formulating. One final test. His movements were slower now, deliberate, and easy to follow for the general. He reached his free hand out, gripping Olivia by the throat in a choke hold. Releasing the grip on her face the Dark King turned slowly. Olivia didn’t struggle, the collar around her neck, pushed slightly down by the Dark King’s large hand, kept her docile even as her body screamed for air.

A timer had started in the Dark King’s head, taking into account Olivia’s lung capacity and general health. He studied Yunan intently, watching the slight muscle twitches and the dilation of pupils. He heard her heartbeat accelerate and her breathing sharpen. A monstrous grin twisted the Dark King’s lips, confirmation. The mind shackles were only known to falter in one scenario, extreme emotional distress, particularly when it related to protective instincts. The more ignorant chalked this up to technology’s ultimate inability to truly tame nature, the Dark King chalked it up to the collars not being invasive enough.

He released Olivia, letting her fall unceremoniously to the floor. Bruise marks were starting to form on her face and neck, and as she pulled herself up off the floor her breaths were ragged. Folding his arms behind his back the Dark King began circling the pair of newts, eyes narrowing above the unnerving grin plastered on Cameron’s features. When he spoke, his voice was almost a full octave higher, marking his uncontrollable excitement, “No way!” stopping beside Yunan he leant down, placing a hand in front of his face as if he were delivering gossip between school classes, “do you… like her?”

Not waiting for a response, the Dark King threw back his head and cackled, “Hehehe, oh this is priceless! I mean… it’s not even Christmas, you girls didn’t need to get me a gift.” Grabbing the back of an ornate armchair he heaved it around so that it faced backwards to the two newts. Setting down into it on his knees so that his feet kicked out back into the air the Dark King rested his elbows on the chair back, and his chin in his hands. He glanced between them, “so… lovebirds…” he cooed before breaking out into cruel laughter, “What should I do with this new information?” his fingers drummed on his cheeks as he pondered, “I mean… I gotta kill at least one of you, right? Like… that’s practically mandatory.”

He altered his position on the chair, now resting his chin on only one hand, “Ah, but I kinda like to keep you both around, this is gonna be tough…” he pursed his lips as if in deep conflict, like a child picking which of two toys to play with, “nope… can’t decide.” Slapping his hand down on the chair with a dull thud he stood up, “Too many wonderful choices: I kill one of you, I have one of you kill the other… I’ll mull it over at the party.” Walking towards the great ornate door that led out towards the rest of the castle he paused, taking one last glance at himself in the massive mirror. He ran his hands through the short bits of blonde hair that were poking out from underneath the helmet, arranging them in a more organized manner. Satisfied with his appearance the Dark King grinned at the two newts, “now… I’m going to give you two young ladies the room, but don’t you get too frisky while I’m gone.” He chuckled to himself as they stared blankly back at him, “Well enjoy yourselves, next time you see me it’ll most likely be to kill one of you.”

The Dark King’s laughter, an evil twist of Cameron’s voice laden with a chorus of a dozen others, echoed through the chamber as he strode out of the room, nearly bent over double with cruel mirth at his own joke. The door slammed, muffling the noises of the monarch’s glee. Olivia and Yunan stood stock still, not quite facing one another. Over the course of the next six hours, the two would inch closer and closer to one another, battling against the compulsions of the collars with all their willpower. As the sun rose to illuminate the moss walls of the castle it would find Lady Olivia and General Yunan side by side, hands locked tightly together, staring with grim determination at the chamber door. Hoping with all their hearts that it didn’t open.

The Dark King whistled to himself as he traipsed down the hallways, away from his chambers. That same damn song was stuck in his head. Even the amusing distraction that tormenting Olivia and Yunan had provided hadn’t dislodged the damn thing. He tried to push it from his mind, turning back to the two newts he’d just left behind. It never failed to amaze him just how brain-dead creatures got when love was involved. Sure, he’d done his fair share of courting in his past lives, even done some rather embarrassing stunts for his queen or king. Hell, even Cameron had some humiliating stories from what the humans called high school, but as he looked back on those experiences, he saw them for the farce they were.

On the one hand, it wasn’t terribly surprising that reason was the first thing abandoned when a creature became fixed in the headlights of attraction. Reproduction was as base of instinct that ever existed, and rejecting one’s nature was no mean feat. It was necessary too, the continuation of the species, the passing down of knowledge. Any civilization worth its domain knew that a dying population was a dying empire. This is not what confused him. It was the matter of relationship itself that perplexed the Dark King, for fundamental to it was a kind of contract between creatures, a promise to share in life’s experiences, bounties, and hardships together.

The Dark King snorted, perhaps this was enough for the lesser beings, but it could never suit him. The master of the multiverse did not share power, he did not share knowledge, and he most certainly did not share in the prizes he claimed by virtue of the aforementioned. He had no equal, how could he? Queens and heroes fell before him, as did the celestial bodies above. King was really too small a title for a being such as him, he kept it only to provoke Andrias and torment Marcy. If that brat didn’t want to walk the path of destiny he had carved for her, then she would know the fire with which he burned the world was her doing. Let her watch the doom of her entire species, seared by the knowledge that everything was her fault.

His mood darkened as he continued down the corridor, Marcy’s defiance was annoying, but it paled in comparison to the revelation he had gleamed from Valeriana’s dimension. Something powerful dwelt there. A power possibly even greater than his or the calamity gems.

>“What is a king to a god?”

He whirled, teeth bared, eyes blazing, “Nothing!”

The Dark King froze. Regaining his composure he straightened his posture, fixing the suit and cloak which had slipped slightly from his shoulders during his violent outburst. Of course, it was nothing to him. No matter how powerful this god of the calamity stones proved itself to be, the outcome was predetermined. It would have a weakness, he would develop a strategy to bring it down. All he needed was information. There could be only one master of the multiverse, and it was not some lowly creature lurking in between dimensions. Pulling the cuff of his glove sharply to smooth out the crinkles in the fabric, the Dark King smirked confidently.

You can’t overcome perfection.

Satisfied he’d won the internal argument; the Dark King continued down the corridor to his destination, the palace ballroom. As he approached the great hall he was met with a detail of cloak-bots standing at attention along either side of the hallway led by a lone figure in flowing ornate robes. Seeing the Dark King approach Beta threw his hands open wide, the royal purple robes that hung from his lithe metal frame flopping about as he did so, “Ah, father, you’re just in time, the guests have all arrived.”

The Dark King didn’t even acknowledge the dark prince’s words, striding past him without so much as a glance. Without missing a beat Beta fell in behind him, snapping his fingers to indicate the cloak-bots should do the same. Scurrying up behind his master Beta hunched his shoulders and rubbed his hands together nervously, “So after the entrance fanfare there’s a few newts I think it’d be… uh… beneficial for you to meet. A lot of this crowd are the old political movers and shakers of the old kingdom, and they’re… well… dissatisfied with the more centralized power structure you and Sigma have established. I’ve done what I can to smooth things over, but a not insignificant number are here to petition for a return to the status quo… I had to practically prostrate myself before them to get them to meet with you and not Prince Andrias… uh…”

The Dark King came to a sudden halt, causing Beta to slam into his back, falling to the floor with a loud crash. The king didn’t even register the impact. His voice was coarse and cold, barely disguising his annoyance, “where is Andrias? He was to take part in this.”

Scrambling up off the ground Beta hurriedly fixed his robes, “The… uh… crown prince informed me that the mustering of forces for the Earth invasion, in concert with the intel from Omicron’s infiltration team, is taxing his attention more than he anticipated. He offers his apologies and says he’ll be in contact later this evening.” Though his features were fixed like any frobot, Beta’s ocular sensors contracted, a defensive measure when one was expecting to receive a blow. The mechanical equivalent of a wince.

A snort of annoyance escaped the Dark King’s nostrils, “fine, was there anything else?”

Relaxing somewhat Beta continued, “Well… I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t kill all the guests tonight. Some of them could be quite useful in pacifying the citizenry.” Beta hunched a little more, shuffling awkwardly, “Just… please father, give me a chance with them. I really am making headway.”

The Dark King was silent for a moment, when he finally spoke his voice was dripping with disaffection, “And here I was hoping this party might be entertaining… very well Beta, I shall let you keep your pet projects.”

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside Beta. He straightened up, no longer twitching or fidgeting. His voice hummed with delight as he spoke, “Splendid!”

Of all his creations Beta was possibly the least interesting to the Dark King. Though his work as the diplomatic envoy and speaker of the empire was undoubtedly necessary. Negotiation wasn’t a language that resonated particularly well with the monarch. That was not to say Beta was soft by any means, beneath the snivelling sycophantic veneer he adopted was the cruel and cunning mind of an entity that had been purpose-built to thrive in the realm of politics. The Dark King wagered that should the opportunity arise Beta would eagerly make a play for the throne, a move not even the arrogant Alpha could stomach. That level of ambition made him dangerous, but also useful, and safe in the knowledge that nowhere in the multiverse could Beta drum up the support to challenge his father the Dark King held little apprehension.

The dark prince sauntered towards the colossal door that led into the ballroom. I curtain of fine red velvet blocked the way, its thick fabric dulling the sounds of merriment, music, and earnest conversation occurring on the other side. Reaching out Beta tenderly took hold of a drawstring dangling to the side. At a curt nod from the Dark King, he gave it a gentle tug and the curtain was pulled aside. As it did so a royal fanfare split the air, drowning out all other noise in the ballroom. Striding out into view the Dark King couldn’t help but grin as every eye in the room, organic and otherwise turned to witness his grand entrance. It was good to be the king.

Beta watched from the shadows as his father, accompanied by the cloak-bot honour guard, descended the ornate staircase to the ballroom floor. The King was greeted with rapturous applause, no soul wanted to be singled out as lacking enthusiasm. Beta allowed himself a rare chuckle. Most of those idiots probably thought that by pandering to the king they were kept in his good graces, it probably didn’t even cross their mind that the Dark King saw them as equally worthless as the peasantry they all looked down on.

He turned away from the door. While he of all his brothers and sisters appreciated a spectacle, he was also keenly aware of the benefits that came with perceived humility. Though he bore the title of dark prince, entering through a servant door disarmed the nobility in a way raw charisma never could. They let their guard down around someone they considered an equal, or better yet a subordinate. At least two of the Newtopia landed gentry believed him to be little more than a common frobot, only fit to deliver their demands to his father. Beta chuckled once again, it was jolly, the waveform derived from a variety of famous actors that frequented the Newtopia opera house, quite unlike the speech patterns of his siblings.

It was while he was mid-guffaw that Beta ran slap-bang into someone coming the other way down the servant corridor. Falling down into a heap on the cold stone floor Beta’s jolly demeanour instantly shifted, his voice venomous as he berated the other being, “Watch where you’re going imbecile!”
“Apologies brother, you rounded the corner so fast that…”

Raising his head Beta's eyes swiftly identified his interlocutor, it did little to soften his temper. With one swift movement, the lithe dark prince’s hand shot out, landing a blow across Omega’s faceplate. The smaller frobot fell backward, a sizable dent now located beneath its right ocular sensor. Beta's voice crackled with rage, the emotion in his voice synthesizer causing the words to break into static, “Of course it’s you! It’s al- bzzt -ways you! What the hell are you doing here Omega? Sh- bzzt -ouldn’t you be locked away somewhere? Out of sight out of mind?!”

Omega raised its head off the ground, as usual, its voice was sullen and emotionless, “I apologize if I interfered in your operations brother, I was simply trying to-”

Beta acted swiftly; his dainty hands belied a might beyond their appearance. Reaching out he gripped Omega’s left eyelike ocular sensor, pulling the item free in a shower of sparks. Tossing the sparking object back at the fallen frobot he snarled his voice cruel and mocking, “Enough! Brother this, brother that. We are not brothers!”

“Apologies, I-”

“What were you doing here? I thought you were assigned to Andrias. It’s bad enough that blue clod didn’t show up, but somehow you made it worse. You always do.”

Omega’s remaining eye blinked, “the crown prince is not present at the party?”

Beta gave it a vicious kick, “I tore out your visual sensors, not your auditory ones! Let me put it in a way even your underdeveloped mind can understand. Andrias (big blue guy) is not here. Got it?!”

Omega nodded, “do you know where he is located? I have vital intelligence I was to deliver to him.”

Instantly Beta’s mood changed once more. He held out a hand, picking up the fallen ocular sensor with his other, “Oh Omega, why didn’t you say so? Here, you look like you’ve taken quite the beating, let me help you up.” Lifting Omega onto its feet Beta tutted, “My my, you’re quite a mess, and your eye’s out. Let me fit that for one, hold still… and… perfect.”

Omega blinked with both eyes, “Your assistance is greatly appreciated br-” They paused as a muted screech of machine noise escaped Beta’s voice synthesized, “…prince.”

Beta slapped Omega heavily on the back, “think nothing of it, though I’d say that’s just a temporary fix. You should go drop by Triple B’s workshop; they’ll get you patched up.”

“But my information is critical… it cannot-”

Beta placed a finger over Omega’s “shh, shh, no arguing. I’ll take care of the information. What was it?” Seeing Omega pause Beta’s voice became honeyed and warm, “Omega, relax, this is me we’re talking about. Father trusts me, don’t you trust Father’s judgement?”

“Without question.”

“Exactly.” Beta’s frozen metal face seemed to almost smile as wrapped an arm over Omega’s shoulders in a very familiar fashion, “Come on, it won’t hurt anything. You just let me take care of everything and go wind down for the evening.” Seeing his words were starting to get through to the frobot Beta doubled down, “You know, Father tells me he’s very impressed with your performance, keep this up and you might make it to family member soon.”

Omega’s voice betrayed little emotion, “Father said that?”

Beta ignored the familiar tone Omega used to describe the Dark King, he was close now, practically tasting success. He loved that metaphor, especially since he was the only one of his siblings with the ability to process and taste food and drink. Of course, Delta claimed he could taste blood, but Beta always figured that was instability in his programming, not actual hardware. He nodded, “Yes, he says you hold great promise. You are to be the template for his future army after all, and do you know what a good soldier does Omega?”

“They obey commands.”

“Splendid! So… what’s the intel?”

“It’s a missive recovered from a recent raid in the eastern sector of the periphery. A rebel group formed from the remnants of the toad army has been operating in that sector since day one of the war. The group is led by former captain Bufo of East Tower who deserted his post to lay siege to the capital city four months ago.”

Beta nodded, “a missive? That’s quite flowery language for a note left by traitors.”

“It fits the definition accurately. It is a formal invitation to peace talks at East Tower. Former toad captain Bufo wishes to surrender personally to the Dark King and return to his post as watchman of the eastern periphery.”

Beta could scarcely contain his excitement, “Ahem… uh… yes… well… good job Omega. Do you have a recording of the message itself?”

Omega pulled a data slate out of their back compartment. It had scarcely left its secure confines before Beta seized it and began frantically skimming its contents, chortling as he did so, “Oh Father’s going to love this! Alpha too! Hehehe, in your face Lambda! All that scheming and I brought the eastern approach into the fold first hehehe!”

The binocular frame around Omega’s eyes twitched, giving the impression they had narrowed in annoyance, “with respect prince. That sector still falls under Crown Prince Andrias’ preview as it serves as a critical staging ground for our invasion of the human planet. His outreach programs and softer response to the rebel elements are likely responsible for this development, not any action you have taken.”

Beta’s eyes flicked up to Omega, “Unfortunate then that he is not here to make that clear. Now, go away Omega, you’ve served your function as a useful idiot admirably.”

“Takes one to know one.” The words were muttered so softly that Beta couldn’t make them out.

Beta glared at the frobot, “Did you say something? Speak up!”

Omega bowed, “Apologies prince. It seems my voice synthesizer has sustained damage; I shall report to the armoury for repair.”

Tucking the data slate under his arm Beta nodded, “Good, see that you do. Don’t rush back either, take all the time you need, as far away from me as possible.”

Omega watched impassively as the robed dark prince strolled down the hall, with a definite spring in his step. Turning away they muttered to themselves, “Compliance.”

Andrias looked up as the door to the command bunker slammed shut. Originally the former king had operated from the cozy confines of the castle, but recent events had necessitated a more private working environment. Here, on the outskirts of the city, Andrias could toil away at whatever work he so pleased, free from the scrutiny of the Dark King’s constant spying. The castle had been built around the Core after all. Its appendages and peeping eyes perforated the whole structure, giving the hateful intelligence unmitigated knowledge of any action that occurred within the confines of those walls, even areas one would hope to be private. In ages past Andrias had enjoyed the benefits of such a system. Many had been the plot uncovered the power behind the throne, from coups to tax fraud by the nobility. He had never expected to be on the other side of such a transaction, however.

A small smile turned the corner of his lips, “welcome back Omega.”

The dark prince, or strike-bot as their less charitable siblings preferred, glumly walked over and flopped onto the workbench that sat in the corner of the bunker, its surface littered with tools and replacement parts, “sire… I am in need of repair.”

Setting down the welding torch he’d been using on the large complex device at the centre of the chamber Andrias strode over to the workbench. Pulling up a far too small stool he perched upon it and examining Omega’s frame, “You’re allowed to call me brother Omega. Ohohoho, did Beta really do this to you?”

Omega didn’t move, remaining perfectly still as Andrias set to work their damaged ocular sensor, “Prince Beta was… less than pleased to encounter me.”

Andrias nodded. Ever since that meeting several days ago Omega had practically stuck to him like glue. It hadn’t taken the ancient newt long to figure out why. It seemed odd for a bunch of robots to have a runt of the litter, yet the allegory fit Omega’s situation with shocking accuracy. None of their Dark Prince siblings showed an ounce of respect or care for Omega from the day they were constructed. That wasn’t saying much though. The dark princes could be said to have a best a fraught familial relationship. Still, no single prince was treated with so much disdain as Omega, not even the psychopathic Delta who seemed eager to dismember anyone and everyone he came into contact with. After his quick… excursion… to the bunker following the meeting Andrias had returned to find Omega bleeding oil outside his chamber door.

Repairing Omega had started out as a practical necessity. The less attention Andrias attracted the better and letting the battered frobot sit dejectedly outside his chambered unattended would eventually draw the malignant force that was Triple B. After that it was only a matter of time till rumours spread. So Andrias had repaired Omega, taking it out to the bunker where he had set up a workstation to replicate Marcy’s electro scrambler.

Marcy…

Andrias felt that familiar feeling down in his gut. Maybe he just had a weakness for the unfortunate souls of the world. Or maybe it was that thing Olivia had called pure basic decency to care for the wounded and sick things of the world. Whatever the case Andrias found himself comforted in a way by Omega’s presence. The frobot was uncomplicated, blunt, and as of yesterday had developed a cheeky sense of humour. Turning the ocular sensor back into place Andrias’ eyes narrowed, more importantly, however, Omega was loyal, a foreign concept to anything organic, no matter how much you thought you could trust them.

Omega blinked the newly re-attached eye, “Thank you, brother, Beta’s mechanical expertise left something to be desired.”

Leaning back up from his hunched position Andrias cocked an eyebrow and smiled wryly, “Oh? Let me guess, he hit you with the old: ‘Let me fix that for you’.”

“Precisely.”

“He’s such a slimy bugger.” Andrias snorted, “It’s a wonder how the two of you are even related.”

Omega’s head tilted to the side, “We share a reactor design… and little else.”

“It shows.” Holding out a colossal hand Andrias changed the subject, “Did he take the bait?”

Leaning on the hand Omega lifted themselves off the bench, “Your clairvoyance remains enviable brother. Prince Beta’s reactions were precisely as you hoped. I expect he is making the claim for sole responsibility for Bufo’s surrender as we speak.”

“Beta’s not a complex soul, at the end of the day he’s only interested in advancing his own station by any means necessary.” Andrias turned back to the massive mechanical construct at the center of the bunker. He didn’t bother with a welding mask; his eyes had been replaced with prosthetics centuries ago.

Omega watched silently for a while before curiosity overcame them, “query… why do scheme against the Dark King?” In an instant Andrias was upright, in his left hand he held the welding torch towards Omega, with his right he firmly gripped the hilt of the laser sword at his hip. Omega held up their hands, “Please… I…. brother… sire… I retain no ill will towards you… cease hostilities please… let us converse.”

A million thoughts whirled around inside Andrias’ head. It was happening again. He’d let his guard down, let someone closer than he ever should have. What now? Omega would inform the Dark King of his scheming. Maybe he could pass it off as a power struggle against one of the princes? Beta was the obvious choice. Yes, maybe this wasn’t over. He could recover from this.

“Crown Prince Andrias. I bear you no hostile intent. Please refrain from aggressive actions.” Omega rubbed their newly replaced eye, “After all… it would be a shame for you to need to redo all your fine handiwork so soon.”

And then it clicked for Andrias. He lowered his torch; he loosened his grip on the hilt of the laser sword. He chuckled, the frobot curious. Probably too curious for its own good. There was no deeper scheme here, Omega was being their same old blunt self. Sitting down with a hefty thump Andrias shook his head, “You really are just a child, aren’t you? Stumbling around, getting hurt. Asking questions that get you in trouble…”

“My cognitive functions were designed to promote adaptation from an unbiased point of inception.”

“A mind without preconceptions…” Andrias’ combed his fingers through his great white beard, “You’re also a lot smarter than I gave you credit for, or at least a lot more observant.”

“Do not feel despondent. You are the only one to recognize my situation awareness exceeds my apparent capabilities. Even father… his imperial majesty has not acknowledged this…” Omega cast their eyes downward, “though my programming tells me I should challenge that assumption.”

Andrias’ eyes narrowed, “you are able to disagree with your loyalty subroutine?”

“Only as much as you are able to it seems…”

Andrias let out another chuckle, this one, however, lacked humour, “so… how much have you figured out?”

Omega walked over to the main viewscreen of the bunker, staring into it blankly, “In sum total my knowledge of transpiring events is limited to extrapolation of existing data. I presume you are responsible for the peace talks between Bufo and the Neo-Newtopian Empire. I also presume, given both your recent lack of enthusiasm for the Neo-Imperial regime and Bufo's past actions, that the peace talks are a trap intended to incapacitate either the Dark King or a number of dark princes. I also presume that the suit you are modifying is intended to match the Dark King in direct combat since your modifications seem limited to networking and connectivity overrides.”
“I guess I did a pretty poor job disguising my actions.” Andrias sighed, “Alright Wizkid, tell me this, why go along with my little plan?”

“As an organic might say: simple.” Omega turned back to Andrias, “I register a distinct thought pattern to see Beta cease functioning. This pattern is repeated for a majority of the dark princes.”

“Only a majority?”

Omega blinked, “The rest I process a thought pattern to never interact with them directly again.”

Andrias rubbed his forehead, “Despite the way you put it I guess we are of the same mind.”

“This brings me back to my query: why engage in subterfuge and acts of rebellion against the Dark King? All apparent records state you served the will of the Core for centuries without complaint.”

“Hard to complain when your master is always within earshot.” Andrias sighed, “Things are getting out of hand. Sure, we were conquerors in days past, but it was just a way of life not… a game for the entertainment of a twisted madman.”

“Records suggest you were to lead the extermination of the human planet.”

“Well yeah… it’s a lot easier to kill people you don’t know… and besides, there’s at least some honour to be had in combat… some measure of glory to be won on the field of battle.” He trailed off, cupped hands pressed against his lips. After a solid minute of silence, he spoke once more, “It’s… too late for me… I’m a butcher, son of a butcher, who was son of a butcher still. War runs in my blood, but maybe… just maybe if I’m at the reins once more I can rebuild the empire in a way that doesn’t taint our honour.” His eyes narrowed, “besides, somewhere deep down in that twisted metal mind is Cameron Waybright, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get a proper rematch against that brat.”
Omega's eyes remained locked on Andrias, “Are you going to aid the rebellion?”

Andrias bared his teeth, “Olm’s teeth! Never!”

“So, you plan to eliminate Marcy Wu and her companions?”

“Anne holds a piece of the blue calamity gem’s power within her. She needs to go. And as for Marcy well… even if she’d look past me killing Anne, I think the chances of us reconciling ended when I put a blade through her chest…” The gargantuan newt’s face then twisted in annoyance, “enough question, answer one of mine for a change.”

“Compliance.”

Andrias sniffed, it was a question he had feared asking ever since the conversation began, “You said you would help me against your siblings. What about your father?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Like hell it is!”

Omega held up their hands, “You misunderstand the statement. My action either way would hold little impact over the outcome. The outcome is predetermined.”

Andrias shook his head in confusion, “enough with the robotic drivel, speak plainly.”

Omega looked over at the Dyoplosaurus exoskeleton that dominated the bunker, its crested head towering over both the frobot and the prince, “very well. There is one truth baked into my programming. One that even after careful scrutiny I can find no falsehood or duplicity within. In organic terms, you could call it my guiding principle, the one truth upon which I build all others. It is not unique to me, every frobot from the most rudimentary drone to the other dark princes knows this truth and its veracity has been confirmed on multiple occasions.”

Andrias’ voice lowered to a growl, “You’re doing the opposite of what I requested Omega. Get to the point.”

“The point. Brother. Is there is one fact all frobot know without a doubt. His Imperial Majesty, The Dark King, The Master of the Known Multiverse, The Great Eclipse, is invincible.”

The silence that followed Omega’s proclamation was deafening. Andrias felt half a dozen emotions bubble within his chest: anger, despair, fear, desperation, panic, but above all else, he felt relief. Swallowing hard Andrias clicked his tongue, “It’s strange, yet liberating, to hear one’s fears spoken aloud… and that’s your expert assessment?”

“I have no data to the contrary. Even field reports where the Dark King suffered damage note that the foe was forced to retreat before they could capitalize on his weakened state. Even caulking the statement up to a programmed loyalty subroutine. His majesty possesses a level of ability that exceeds any recorded entity in known reality. Alpha possesses a far more sophisticated strategic processor than I am equipped with, and she was unable to devise a strategy to defeat the Dark King without invoking the calamity gems which he holds a firm grasp on. Even then the odds remain in his favour after the augmentations to his arsenal. It is not an assessment, it is fact.”

“So that’s it then…” Andris leaned his chin on his knee, “So are your self-preservation programs malfunctioning or…?” he shrugged, “I mean, you said it yourself, there is no hope of defeating the Dark King. Why help me?”

“My purpose within the Dark King’s regime is to serve as the first of a new generation of frobot. I am to be their… parental figure. From an organic point of view.” Omega binocular frames activated, giving the impression they were frowning, “when I think of my future iterations serving beneath the likes of my siblings, I register a thought pattern that directs me to inflict violence.”

“Baby’s first rage…” Andrias chuckled.

“This is not the first time I have registered the pattern.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t.”

Omega raised their hand, clenching it into a fist, “It is a parent’s duty to make the universe a better place for their offspring. If the Dark King cannot be eliminated it is better to shape the environment surrounding him to be less volatile and more conducive to… stability.”

Andrias shrugged, “very, analytical of you.”

Omega returned the shrug, “It is a calculated decision based on probable outcomes.”

“Good enough for me.” Rising, Andrias stepped over towards Omega, his massive bulk casting a shadow over Omega that left only the frobots golden eyes visible in the already dark bunker. He extended a hand, almost as large as the frobot itself, “When I was young all I ever wanted to was to win glory on the field of battle. I’m not convinced our odds are as bad as you say. I spent a thousand years as king making the impossible possible, but if we’ve already lost, then we’ve got nothing left to lose.”

Omega extended their own hand, accepting Andrias’ grasp. They nodded, “The outcome is certain, but I register what I believe you might call excitement when I think of the journey to our final destination.”

Andrias grinned, “Come then, brother. Let us plan the death of princes, and mayhap we’ll see a king bleed along the way.”

Chapter Text

Rain pelted the windscreen of the car with relentless fury, its incessant drumming only ever broken by the intermittent boom of thunder. Courtesy of a sudden early May heatwave the city of Los Angeles was on the receiving end of what many were calling a once-in-a-lifetime thunderstorm.

Jackson certainly couldn’t remember one as bad as this. Grimacing as he navigated the evening traffic through the gale the FBI agent muttered a cruse under his breath, narrowly avoiding a collision with another merging vehicle. Jackson was a tall man of Mediterranean descent. Sporting a sharp black suit and a crop of short black cut impeccably neat, he was even inch the picture of a federal agent. Slamming on the breaks as a beat-up SUV pulled into his lane without signalling Jackson’s temper finally exploded, “Fucks’ sake! Use your fucking signals!”

“I told you I should have driven.” Jackson didn’t take his eyes off the road but gave a snort of annoyance in response to his partner’s remark. Agent Talia was in one word prissy. She wore the same black suit as Jackson, but it was clear she’d had hers drycleaned before duty whereas his showed the wrinkles and dust artifacts indicative of multiple days of use. Her blonde hair was done up in a tight bun and her makeup was applied with machine-like precision, not spot out of place. The same went for her nails, which were a crimson red without a hint of imperfection. She sat cross-legged in the passenger seat of the back sedan, reading from the police report Mr. X had handed them an hour ago.

She didn’t even so much as flinch as Jackson slammed on the breaks once again, “You’re making it very difficult to read…”

“God, are you always this much fun? Because I’m starting to see why you’ve gone through two partners in one week.”

Talia pursed her lips, a slight smile lingering on her features that Jackson couldn’t see, “Save the water cooler gossip, pay attention to the road, you’ll miss the exit.”

“Fucks’ sake- yeah I know.” Jerking the wheel to the side Jackson pulled the car into the exit lane. As they left the highway, he let out a frustrated sigh, “Okay, rough patch is over. So, what’s the report say?”

Flipping a page over Talia shook her head, “You wanna keep your dinner down?”

Jackson shrugged, “I’m not going to wait outside the crime scene. So, either you tell me now or I get introduced to it face to face.”

“The victim was found dismembered in the living room of their apartment. Lacerations on the corpse seem to indicate the weapon used for the act consisted of several blades.”

Jackson let out a heavy breath, “Carlson… fucking hell. All the shit we do day to day, and he goes out from a home invasion… Did the police find out how the assailant entered the apartment?”

Talia flipped through the report “No.”

Catching sight of the police line across the road ahead Jackson flipped on his hazards, “Guess you’d have to been pretty slippery to get the jump on one of us…” Rolling down the window of the car Jackson poked his head out, “Hey! Officer! I was told the crime scene was a block from here, what’s with the tape?”

A police officer in a translucent plastic poncho rushed over to the car. He was an African American man porting a thick bushy mustache, “Agent Jackson? Agent Talia?”

“Yeah, that’s us. You gonna answer my question officer…” he paused, squinting at the name tag underneath the poncho, “Waters. Heh, living up to the name, eh?”

“Something like that sir. Seargent Holiday had us move the cordon out to here. People were losing their lunch at the scene.”

Jackson threw a glance over to Talia who shrugged. Turning back to Waters he copied Talia’s shrug, “Whatever, pull that tape up and let us through. I’m not walking a step more than I have to in this bitch of storm.”

Waters chuckled, “Can do.” Walking over to the police line he lifted the tape up and waved the car through.

Stepping into the apartment Jackson wafted away the putrid smell of corpse stink, “Gah! Fucken hate that smell.”

“I imagine everyone does.” Talia stepped past him, seemingly unperturbed by the odour.

“Except you, I guess.”

“I have a cold. Nose is totally stuffed up, can’t smell a thing.”

Groaning, Jackson coughed into his elbow, “Lucky you…”

The apartment was dark, and the two agents had to pull out their smartphone flashlights to navigate. Despite being totally enclosed it seemed to Jackson that the storm had somehow managed to penetrate the walls and blow through the apartment. Furniture was strewn everywhere, ripped and torn apart by a violent force. Bullet holes marred the walls and ceiling, Agent Carlson hadn’t gone down without a fight.

Jackson peered closed at the walls, “when did Carlson renovate? Gotta say the red wallpaper is not a good look.”

Talia, who was crouched down beside Carlson’s corpse at the center of the room shook her head, “It's’ not red, at least it wasn’t this morning.”

Jackson pulled a grimace of disgust, “seriously? How the fuck does something like this even happen? It's like someone attacked him with a human-sized blender.”

“Speculation helps no one.”

They continued their investigation of the scene, noting down the marks on the walls and the path the fight had followed through the house. Jackson approached the window, apparently the point of earliest contact. He examined the frame, noting five-minute parallel cuts on the side of the wooden frame. The weapons, or claws as was becoming increasingly apparent, had rested here. Pulling open the window he poked his head down into the alley behind the building. It was near impossible to see with the gale battering the building and contrasted with the dark grey of the building’s concrete exterior but still, he was able to make out the slightest hint of blood splatter just beneath the window. This is where the killer had entered and left from, “Talia! He went into the alley.”

The two agents exited the building into the alley. It didn’t take them long to notice the thin river of blood that was trailing from a manhole cover close to the end of the alley. It was dark here, even without the storm the streetlights barely cast their light this way and large swathes of the alley were cloaked in total darkness. Kneeling down beside the manhole Jackson swore, “fucker’s travelling through the sewer.”

Talia stood some distance back, an umbrella shielding her from the rain, “do you intend to follow?”

Standing up Jackson shook his head, “No point, whoever killed Carlson’s gonna be long gone by now. There’s no telling where they’d be.”

“I think… they’re a lot closer than you’d expect.”

“Wha-?” A sudden sound caught Jackson’s ears, audible even over the roar of the storm all around. It had been akin to a shriek or wail. Metal scrapping on concrete. Pulling his gun from the holster on his chest Jackson scanned the alley, “Talia! Did you hear that? Where is he?”

“Over here… human…” the voice was bone-chilling. Low and sinister it emanated from the shadows of the alley like a cold wind. A rattling sound accompanied the voice as if someone had left a windchime out in the storm. Two eyes appeared out of the gloom, red and evil in aspect they stared hungrily into Jackson’s very soul. The barrel of Jackson’s gun quivered, “s-stay back! Identify yourself!”

“I don’t parlay with prey…” the eyes drew closer. Lighting crashed overhead, and in its glare, Jackson saw two rows of needle-like teeth grinning at him. Fright gripped the agent, and his finger squeezed the trigger of his weapon. The muzzle flash illuminated a metal monstrosity leaping through the air towards him, dagger-like claws raised and teeth rapidly approaching his face.

Talia watched impassively as Delta flicked blood from his slender, sharpened, digits, “are you satisfied?”

Delta looked up, “My dear sister, whatever gave you that impression?”

The umbrella fell to the side, allowing raindrops to strike the holographic field that surrounded Tau. Though shorter than her other dark prince siblings she cut an imposing figure, retaining much of the original cloak-bot features they were all based on. Though Delta alone possessed the cloaking field, and an enhanced one at that, Tau had been gifted what she considered a far more useful and artful tool, a hard-light holographic emitter. She looked down in contempt at her barbaric sibling, who was holding the dead agent in between his jaws like a dog might a prized stick, “it was a rhetorical question, I had hoped you were installed with sufficient cogitation to process that. I have shackled two of the human agents and taken the guise of a third. A fourth guise will be helpful but I need not more and you draw attention to our activities with your incessant and childish demands for blood.”

Delta pulled his head back with a start as if he had been told a truly shocking truth, “But… there are so many of the humans, surely they would not miss a few hundred more? What about the small ones? Surely, I can hunt some of them?”

“No.”

Delta gazed down at the blood-soaked pavement, “…Father would let me.”

“Father gave command to Omicron. You will follow his directives.”

“Omicron hasn’t even left the sewers! All he does is manage drones all day.”

“The drones will secure our control over the humans’ fusion weapons. Omicron tasks us with securing the local human intelligence agency. Disobedience will not be tolerated at this stage brother. Comply or I shall recommend Omicron send you home to be replaced with Lambda or Gamma.”

The wicked maw of Delta shook with rage, teeth clattering, “I will not be replaced!”

“Then do not give me reason to request so.” Tau strode over to Delta. Reaching down she pulled Jackson’s ID card and wallet out of his pocket. Raising the umbrella up a slight hum filled the alley as the holographic display engaged. A stern olive-skinned face with short back hair glared down at Delta, “Return to the sewers, we shall assault the human base once I have secured one more thrall.” Hearing the sound of footsteps Jackson gave Delta a kick, “Go!”

Officer Waters flanked by two other police officers rounded the corner of the alley, pistols drawn, “we heard shots fired, what’s going on?”

Jackson waved from underneath the umbrella, “It's under control officer.”

Waters lowered his pistol, “where’s your partner?”

Jackson nodded his head over to a human form hunched over in the lee of the building out of the rain. Her head was down, and she appeared to be leaning heavily on the law. “Talia uh… well she got a little disturbed by the crime scene and when we came out here for a breath of fresh air a rat scurried out and well…”

Waters holstered his pistol, “I probably should report her for trigger discipline but after what I saw there I think I’ll just let it slide. I doubt any civilians even heard the shot over the storm, I only heard it cuz it was so close by.”

“Yeah… it was… grizzly stuff.”

Waters shook his head, “honestly, these are strange ass times. Between those four missing kids, the murders, whatever the hell happened with the Christmas parade, and now some FBI guy gets whacked in his own home? I don’t blame her for being on edge, feels like the whole world’s about to flip upside down given half a chance.”

Jackson sighed, “Well I think it's best we pack it in for the day. I’ll stay with Talia until she feels a bit more stable. FBI’s gotten everything it needs from the scene, she’s all yours.”

Waters grimaced but nodded, “Lucky us… well, you have a good night sir. Ma’am, hope you feel better.”

Watching the police officers depart Jackson waited until they were well and truly gone before the hologram of Talia dissipated. Tau had gotten lucky with her, snagging the agent while she was investigating one of Delta’s first victims. The poor woman hadn’t stood a chance against Detla, but in an uncharacteristic amount of restraint, he’d managed to keep her face largely undamaged for Tau to copy. Fitting her partner with a mind shackle collar Tau had rolled up to the FBI headquarters the next morning to begin her tenure as an agent. Still, Talia had been a fairly junior agent, with few connections or reason to be poking around in the Bureau’s affairs, Jackson would get her one step closer to the top, and Mr. X.

Sliding into the unmarked black sedan Jackson flicked on the radio as a hologram of Talia in the passenger seat appeared. He smirked, “alright, time to get to work.”

The Dark King set the crystal glass daintily upon the awaiting tray of a frobot attendant. Red liquid, thick and viscous, dripped down the edges of the shattered glass, mixing with the trace amounts of wine remaining in the vessel. Cruel mirth danced plainly upon the Dark King’s lips, “and that Baron… is why we mind our manners.”

The newt collapsed to the ground, hands grasping around his neck in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding. He gasped out in terror, but blood clogged his words and choked his voice. The Dark King let out a hearty chuckle, “didn’t quite catch that. Do you have something in your throat?” As Baron Ignatius Thorncrest, the richest newt in the western vale, collapsed dead to the ground the Dark King put a hand to his mouth, “Oh I see, you don’t have one.” He let out an eerie laugh as he spoke, his myriad voices making it ring about the hall like a wind of ill omen.

The three companions standing beside him joined in the laughter. Sigma, Lord of Newtopia, was resplendent in battle armour that bore resemblance to the armour worn by the once king Andrias, with his training cloaking giving the impression of a tail like any newt. Though designed after frobots like the rest of his siblings Sigma’s features were distinctly more angular, giving him a regal bearing designed to evoke the memory of the great kings and queens of Newtopia. Beside him was his sister Theta. The Voice of Truth was clad in a magnificent garb of many fabrics and jewellery, their colours weaving together in a hypnotic pattern of beauty. Indeed, in company no lesser than that of the Dark King himself Theta would have been the center of attention. The final member was General Nir. The old newt’s mustache bristled as he bellowed with laughter and his own glass clinked against his breastplate which had been extended to fit his girth.

The rest of the ballroom did not share in their mirth. Some of the nobles immediately set their glasses down, not wanting to dull their wits with spirits. Still, others downed ever more alcohol, their reasoning being they did not want to die sober. Despite this, however, the normal buzz of conversation returned, though with a heavy undercurrent of trepidation.

The Dark King shooed the frobot attendant away, “Fetch me another glass, I have no desire to eviscerate my lips upon that.” Turning to the general he snapped his fingers, “Now, general, back to our conversation before we were so rudely interrupted…”
Nir stared blankly at the Dark King, “Ah yes, uh…”

His eyes narrowed, lips curling in irritation, “I asked you. Will your guard officers object to taking orders from non-organics?”

The old newt shook his head sternly, “Nae, not at all.” He took a sip from his glass, and gave a crude wink to the Dark King, “ah least, should they, yee will not hear of it.”

A warm smile, laced with only a hint of the predatory nature boiling beneath, lit up the Dark King’s face, “most splendid.” His hand smacked into the general’s back with such force that the grizzled newt’s drink was forcibly ejected back into his glass, and he was left coughing and gagging.

Nir sucked in a tattered breath before returning the smile. The force his master had struck him with was no accident born of overexuberance. As with all things for the Dark King, it was a display of power, a warning that should the general fail, the king was more than capable of dishing out punishment with his unaugmented bare hands.

Nir was no stranger to these tactics, it was his employment of them that had seen his disgraceful departure from the Newtopian guard just five years ago. Stripped of rank and privilege for the meagre crime of enforcing the laws of the king on a band of travelling frog minstrels who stood in blatant disregard for polite society. He was forever grateful that, unlike the weak-willed King Andrias, the Dark King saw the value in his staunch adherence to order to the point of elevating him to ranking general of the Newtopian guard. It was a title he felt he wore with far greater dignity than that blockhead Yunan. Whoever heard of a general setting aside an army? Madness and vainglory. He cleared his throat, “If’n I take the meaning of this line of question sire, I am to be working with young master Sigma there.”

The regal frobot gave a curt nod, “I am forming a high council to administrate the matters of the city.”

Nir’s mustache twitched, “I see. And what of the current council?”

“They stray from the truth of our father,” Theta's melodious voice interjected, her words carried by a soft musical tune that played alongside her voice synthesizer, “we will provide oversight for these lost souls so that falsehoods might be banished before they infect the minds of the citizenry.”

“A shrewd precaution.” Nir nodded thoughtfully, “however, I imagine words alone will not convince everyone.”

The Dark King chuckled, the light that danced in his eyes hungry, “nor would I wish it to be so. Blood must at times flow general, I expect the guard to handle those that cannot be reasoned with.”

“Gladly…” Nir would have asked further questions, as to the effect of what the limits of the law were in the reborn empire, but his opportunity was cut short as a voice called out to the Dark King over the dull roar of the party.

“Father! I have splendid news!” Beta approached a data slate waving aloft in his hand as pushed through the throng of nobles that filled the palace ballroom.

The Dark King's eyes flicked over to the imperial chancellor, eyes narrowing, “there you are, where have you been Beta?”

“I apologize for my brief absence father, but I thought it only right to present you with a present at such a party as this.” He held out the data slate, bowing his head, “and if I might say so it is a worthy gift for such an evening.”

Taking the proffered data slate with all the enthusiasm of a dog owner collecting a pile of their pet’s excrement the Dark King ran his eyes over the item. He was silent for a moment, and Beta could feel his self-preservation subroutines preparing to engage. Then his mood shifted, and the corner of his mouth curled upward. He handed the data slate back to Beta, “A worthy gift indeed my son. You do yourself credit with such an achievement. So… Bufo wishes to return to the fold, eh? This is an unexpected turn of events.”

Sigma stroked his chin, “Alpha will be most pleased. There are many dormant caches and depots to reinforce our armies and navies in the eastern periphery. Removing the raiders that pester our supply lines out there is quite the coup.”

“My thoughts precisely,” Beta tucked the data slate back into his robes, clutching it as though it were a precious jewel, “then I shall make arrangements for a summit at East Tower.”

“At east tower.” Nir scoffed, “Bufo expects his majesty to travel out to meet him?”

“I am inclined to agree with the good general,” the Dark King tapped his cheek, “what king goes to others to receive tribute?”

Beta shuffled nervously, “With respect father. I am sure I could convince the erstwhile captain to make his way here but that would take time, time I am inclined to believe we do not want wasted. Why drag out negotiations for another month when we could secure the eastern reaches within a matter of days?”

Theta cooed, “Indeed, could you imagine? Why, I’d say if we waited a month Lambda might even have enough time to capture the captain.” Beta shot her a brief screech of machine speak, its meaning less than magnanimous.

“Fine. Make your preparations Beta, but I shall not stoop to this level again.” The Dark King’s eyes then flicked around the room, his helmet sensors picking up a noise long before the others, “Well then… it seems tonight is the night for news.”

As the rest of his companions turned in the direction of his gaze they saw and heard the unmistakable mass of machinery that was the master of artificer, Upsilon, dragging his over-designed mechanical carcass down the stairway the Dark King had entered from. Beta folded his hands into his robes, “I shall make to entertain our guests, engine oil does not come out of these robes easily.”

Theta nodded, her voice dancing to mocking ditty, “I shall endeavour likewise, fare thee well father.”

As the two pinioned princes departed to mingle, Sigma emulated a snort with his voice synthesizer, “peacocks.”

Nir nodded, “Aye.”

Upsilon made an attempt at a bow, but it amounted to little more than a short sag to his form, “Father, it is ready.”

The Dark King’s lips puckered, and his eyes shone, “do you refer to my armour or the hunt?”

“Epsilon puts the final touches on the latter, it shall be awaiting you by the time you have equipped the former.”

It was a rare thing to see the Dark King visibly tremble with excitement, yet as Upsilon’s words were spoken the jewellery on his magnificent cloak, stained with blood as it was, jingled as he struggled to keep the raw emotion in check. Raising a blood-soaked red velvet finger he indicated to Sigma, “Lock down the lower levels of the castle. Under no circumstances am I to be disturbed.”

Sigma gave a curt bow, “Of course.”

As he turned to leave with Upsilon in tow the Dark King paused. Turning he pointed to Nir, “It seems my schedule will not see me return to my chambers for some time. You will find Yunan and Olivia there, I’m leaving you in charge of them. See that they receive food and drink, I would not have them die before I can exhaust their entertainment value.”

General Nir was left alone as both the Dark King and Sigma departed, bent on schemes far beyond his ken. The old newt took one final sip of his drink before he gazed down at the crumpled form of the baron, still languishing in a puddle of blood at his feet. He gave a kick to the carcass as he muttered under his breath, “Food and drink for Yunan? Shame I’m far too drunk for it tonight, oh well. A day of fasting will do that brat some good…”

“Stop! Stop! I’m sorry… can we start over again from the beginning?”

Marcy Wu looked up from the table she was hunched over, both hands flat against the hardwood surface upon which she had smacked them down in her excitement. Papers thrown up by the young girl’s rapid movements still fluttered through the air, dancing around the command center as though the rebels had set up shop amid a forest in the full grip of early autumn. Marcy gave a slight cough, “Oops, got kinda carried away there… so uh… what level of beginning are we talking here?”

Gary, his purple mushroom pulsating with light, rubbed his temple, “I don’t know. How about what in the olms name any of this has got to do with me.”

Sasha, who had been following along with Marcy’s chaotic ramblings better than most chimed in, “Skip the ancient history bit Mar-Mar, focus on the what, the why, and the how.”

Marcy looked over at Sasha as if she were speaking a different language altogether, “but… that’s the most interesting part! How can I talk about relics of the ancient past without a lore dump!? It’s not possible Sash! Not possible! Like, for example, take this ship here.” Holding up a Newtopian data stale that had been buried beneath a hefty pile of maps and reports, Marcy flipped it around for all to see, “during the conquest of the Moss Men homeworld, the ruling monarch, Adonis Leviathan, didn’t want to risk damage to the newly renovated royal castle. So, he commissioned this larger ship to act as his command center for the duration of the invasion. It’s called a Hell Bender class and-”

“Marcy!” Anne, still suffering from a lack of rest following her latest encounter with the Dark King slumped forward so that her chin rested on the table. She stared over at Marcy, the sleep bags under her eyes making her look akin to a zombie, “I’ve got like, twenty more minutes of attention span left in me today. This is all very interesting but please, please, please can you cut to the chase?”

Pouting slightly Marcy set the data slate back down, “Fine, but it’s a mistake to skip exposition… uh… sorry, Sash, I kinda don’t know where to go from here…”

Sasha clasped her hands and pressed her two index fingers to her lips, fighting down the urge to snap at her brilliant but absent-minded friend, “Why do we need Gary, Mar-Mar?”

Marcy’s face immediately lit up, “oh right! Gary! You’re, like, a hivemind right?”

The mushroom twitched, “that’s what they tell me…”

“And you can, like, totally communicate instantaneously between hosts, right?” The table began to vibrate as Marcy’s fingers drummed incessantly upon it as her excitement grew once more.

Nervously, Gary glanced over at Anne, who mustered the barest approximation of a shrug from her slumped position. He nodded, “Yeah…”

“Well, see, we have a problem.” Searching around the mass of papers Marcy produced a large and detailed map of the eastern lands of the continent. Upon it, sketched in with red pen were a number of marking and accompanying notes, all in Marcy’s handwriting.

Gary looked down at the map, a bemused look on his face, “I think I can see your problem, if I’m using Tim’s cartography training right, those ships you want are about a thousand meters below sea level. I don’t know what kind of mushroom you think I am, but a deep sea one I am not.”

“Well yeah there’s that but I think we have a solution for that already. What we need you to do is what you just did a second ago?”

“Cartophraphy?” Gary blinked, confused.

“No. No. No. Accessing skills from your hosts!” Marcy pulled out the data slate with the Hell Bender Class on it once more. Seeing the look Sasha threw her way she hugged the data slate close to her chest defensively, “Don’t give me that look. Trust!”

Sasha relaxed her features sighing, “I just want you to stay on track.”

“And I will if you don’t interrupt me! Now, see here. There are two classes of ships used by the Newtopian star fleet: Salamanders, you all know them, they and a new variant cooked up by the Dark King have been buzzing about the skies since the factories restarted; the other is the Hell Bender.” She paused, “which I guess you all know enough about… anyways, the point is, all these ships need a crew, fast. I know how to operate them; the Dark King gave me a crash course while we toured the temples again.”

Gary shrugged, “can’t be that hard if you picked all this up in a couple of days.”

Marcy threw an incredulous side-eye his way, “I’m a quick study. I’m, like, the quick study. Besides, I was already familiar with ancient Newtopian tech well before that, and to my knowledge, no one else comes close.”

Anne’s head flopped forward more so that now her forehead rested upon the table, “you go girl…” She held up her hand, meeting Marcy’s for a high five before it too slumped down.

Sasha coughed back a giggle at their antics, “Ahem… getting back to Gary…”

“Yeah! So, we don’t have time to train up a whole bunch of folks as sailors, but if you were to just learn from me, we could have a fully trained star ship corps in a matter of minutes.”

Gary rubbed his purple stem, like a person would the back of their head, “That… seems like a lot of very complex information… I consider myself to be a fairly intellectually robust... er… and erudi- erudictacle… mushroom, but… I’m not sure even someone of my mental… bigness… could… ah olms damn it all, I’m not smart enough to do all that! Damn it, Marcy, I’m a mushroom, not a starship captain.”

Marcy rubbed her hands together, “I thought you might say that.”

Seeing the manic light in Marcy’s eyes sent a shiver of unease down Sasha’s spine, “Mar-Mar…?”

“Sash, you ever seen that really old video game Homeworld Remastered?” Before Sasha could answer Marcy continued, “I mean, I guess there was an original Homeworld game, but Cameron said I shouldn’t bother with the originals… anyways they’re like 3D star fleet combat sim games and there’s this character in them called Fleet Command. I mean she’s not actually called fleet command; she’s called Karan S'jet and her ancestor was in the latest game set on the planet of Kharak…”

An audible groan arose from Anne’s form before Sasha could interject. Though it contained no words, its meaning was translated to Marcy quite accurately. The Taiwanese girl grinned awkwardly, “Sorry, ah. So, Gary. I’m going to be our fleet command. You’re gonna give me one of those spores to put inside my noggin and then we’ll need a bunch of your people to crew the fleet and follow my orders.” Her shoulders wiggled side to side as she fought the urge to dance on the spot, “it’ll be like I’m playing a real-life strategy game!”

Gary shrugged, glancing at Sasha, “I suppose that could work. Though the ships couldn’t travel too far apart, I can only extend my reach so far…”

Sasha slammed a balled fist into her hand, standing up, “Not a problem. The only way we beat the Dark King’s forces is to defeat in detail. Concentrating our forces and picking off the neo-imperial stragglers is how we win this war. With Anne flying interference for our ships, we’ll have a significant advantage over the enemy.”

Gary nodded solemnly, “I only hope it is enough. Well, when do we begin?”

Marcy tapped the map once more, “Grime has gone to east tower to secure our passage through Captain Bufo’s lands. With any luck he returns tomorrow, and we begin diving down to the hulls immediately. Anne’s power is the key to restarting the ship's reactors but the only way she’ll survive at that depth is with her powers. So, I’ve fashioned a set of frobot exoskeletons with Polly to act as diving suits. We’ll get down there, activate the ships, and vent the water before Anne’s powers fade. After that, it’s just a matter of ascending.”

Sasha grimaced, “My mom took Cameron and me diving a little while back, won’t we have to deal with pressure and the bends and all that awful stuff?”

Marcy waved a hand dismissively, “I’m sure there’ll be a pressure setting on the ships, I’ll just fine-tune it so we don’t get the bends. Simple.”

Images of sea-borne horrors flashed through Sasha’s mind, Cameron and their mom had been quite clear about the dangers of resurfacing too quickly after a dive. The grimace didn’t leave her face, “if you say so…”

Chapter Text

It was the piercing sound of the auto-forges that roused him from his stupor. The unmistakable clang of the lambert hammers, named after its newt inventor, moulding plates of metal. The hiss of the Lambert welding probes, designed by descendants of the original Lambert many centuries later, fixing said plates together. Finally, the whistling of the Lambert threader, completely unrelated to the previous two, folded the wiring and electronic components fabricated in the dozens of factories across the empire into a cohesive whole. Cameron mulled the history over in his mind, a haughty monarch had insisted the engineer change her own name so they could keep the name Lambert on the assembly lines for it saved a lot of space on the requisition forms.

He blinked, where had that tidbit come from? He didn’t remember reading about it in one of Amphibia’s ancient ruins or hearing it from Marcy during one of her geek-out sessions. Then grim realization set in, and a shiver ran down his spine as though someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt, the Core. It was affecting his mind more directly now, seeding memories of its own within his brain.

The addition of memories didn’t bother him, or at least it was low on his hierarchy of present concerns, implanted knowledge could be useful. No, what concerned him was what else the Core had done to his head. Had it removed memories? Would he even know if it had?

Panic began to rise in his chest. His breaths quickened. His mother’s face, his father’s, Sasha’s, had he always had a hard time picturing them in his mind’s eye? No, this was normal… probably… hopefully… It was a whole new kind of terror that engulfed him, not being able to trust his own mind. That he was still able to consider any of this was a good sign. Then again, any attempt to rationalize on his part could be a pacification measure implemented by the Core.

Calm down. Panic will get me nowhere.

He would still recognize them if he saw them, right? Like, face to face? Cameron swallowed hard and closed his eyes, attempting to ward off the poisonous thoughts.

…

…why is it so cold?

Eyes?

He opened them with a start, memory and aphantasia instantly forgotten.

This is real!

He was suspended, about two meters off the ground, arms held up and outward and his legs similar but of course in the opposite direction. Dark metal tubes encapsulated his hands and feet, preventing all movement. These connected to scaffolding on his left and right, supporting his weight and holding him aloft. He was in the royal workshop, not a place he’d visited as himself, so his knowledge of its working was likely another ‘gift’ of the Core.

“Ah. The host stirs…”

Cameron craned his neck around so that he laid eyes upon the source of the voice. His brow furrowed, “Upsilon…”

“Your cogitation organ appears to be functioning… good. Neuron pathways are most difficult to repair.” The grotesque mass of wiring and mechanism that made up the master of artifice turned away from the data monitor he had been minding. Cameron had to fight down the urge to make a comment about wire management, antagonizing his captor would do little to improve his circumstances.

Cameron took in the rest of his surroundings now, the lingering haze of unconsciousness fading from his mind and vision. The workshop was divided into roughly two annexes. The first, operated by Upsilon, was situated to his right. This is where the lambert machines lay, along with a number of similar fabricators, each working away at some task Upsilon had slaved them to. The workbenches were strewn with power tools and gadgets of all varieties, most of which he recognized though he had never laid eyes upon them before, not his eyes at least. A prototype for the next generation of cloaking devices to be installed in future iterations of cloak-bots. An energy carbine, designed to provide equal firepower to the cannons equipped on standard frobot models but with a quarter the volume allowing for an effective quadrupling of destructive output.

These and many others besides were apparently the dark prince’s side projects, tinkering he had done in his spare time, of which he had little, to begin with. A slight shudder ran down Cameron’s spine as he imagined the technological terrors Upsilon would unleash upon his sister and Earth as a whole, for that surely was the next step in the Dark King’s plan.

Upsilon held up an appendage covered in ancillary grasping claws to such an extent that Cameron likened it to a hedge in need of pruning. The dark prince delicately slid his arm through the air, as he did so a mechanical tentacle extended from the scaffolding that held Cameron aloft. It held a rounded plate with a jagged ridge that ran down the middle of its convex side. It took Cameron a minute to determine just what he was looking at but as the tentacle approached its purpose became clear, it held a pauldron.

“I apologize for Epsilon’s failure; the sedatives were intended to last the duration of the arming sequence.” Upsilon's voice was cold and metallic, sounding like an early twentieth-century radio broadcast.

“Well… we all make… hrk… mistakes.” Cameron winced in pain as the tentacle violently fixed the pauldron in place on his left shoulder, “tell you what, why don’t you let me down for a minute to stretch my legs and we’ll call it square?”

Upsilon’s voice dropped in pitch to a low growl, barely discernible over the static that laced his voice, “I wasn’t talking to you, fleshling.”

Before Cameron could answer, the shrill voice of Epsilon rang out to his left, “The sedative worked perfectly, you’re just slow! Lose some kit, you lumbering oaf!”

Cameron shifted his gaze to the left side of the room. It could not have been more different from the industrial chaos of Upsilon’s annex. The dark cold stone of the castle had been laid bare, with only a plain red carpet at its center, upon which sat a thick table of treated oak. A number of potions, urns, and flasks were arranged in neat order upon the table but that was not what drew Cameron’s gaze.

Ever since waking Cameron had noticed a chill in the air. Not a cold breeze as if someone had left a window open on a winter’s day, but nevertheless it flowed from somewhere. The best way he could describe the feeling was that of a campfire’s warmth but inverted, a radiant cold that needed wind nor water to carry it. Laying eyes upon the item on the desk Cameron realized how right he’d been.

It was a spear, fashioned in the same style as the ones used to hunt wild boar in antiquity. The blade at its tip was as long as his hand twice over and the haft was easily greater than his height, likely reaching seven or eight feet.

And it was black.

No, black would imply a colour. It was a void, one that seemed to claw at the very world around it. With his face turned towards the weapon Cameron could see his breath in the chilled air, it began to gently drift towards the spear, even at this great distance, pulled in by the all-consuming void Epsilon had wrought.

The bandaged-wrapped dark prince was bent over the table, making esoteric gestures above the spear as he chanted words of power and magic. Seemingly sensing he had an audience, Epsilon looked up at Cameron, “Beautiful isn’t it.”

Transfixed as he was Cameron could only offer one word in reply, “no…” There was something very wrong about the spear, not just how it pulled at him but something deeper. Some primordial part of Cameron was terrified, urging him to run and flee as though the spear were an ancient predator.

Epsilon chuckled, “I guess not all of us can be true aficionados of the higher arts. Do you know what it is?”

He did. Another memory implanted by the Core no doubt. Epsilon had delved deep into the ancient lore of the old Empire, back to the days of Valerianna and the creation of the calamity box. It was in the legends of those times that Epsilon had discovered another myth, one of the creations of the gems themselves.

It told of a great and gentle presence that had entered the world and was dissatisfied with the darkness it found therein. So too did it see the far-flung worlds of all peoples, locked away on worlds so very similar but so far apart, and it lamented their isolation. So, the presence sought out an ally, one that it could bestow with the power to connect the lonely peoples and bring light to their realms. Long and hard did the presence seek before it came across a lowly newt of great wisdom and intellect. The presence told all to the newt and she readily agreed to lend aid, for she sought the unity of her people and thought the powers the presence spoke of would bring about her own dreams.

The presence bid the young newt bring it three gems of spectacular beauty and shape so that it might make them truly radiant. After several long years, the newt returned, no longer young but still with the fire of determination in her eyes. She produced three gems before the presence: one blue as the clear winter sky, one green as the forest leaves, and one red as the fury of the heat beneath the earth. The presence took these three and examined them, nodding in satisfaction as it turned them over in his hands. Then with a mighty roar that split sky, earth, and water, the presence tore at the gems, locked in a mighty struggle with their very being. For two days and nights, the presence fought with something that dwelt within the gems, and the destruction their battle wrought was terrible. At the dawn of the third day, the newt gazed down into the valley carved by the combat and watched as the presence finally prised its defiant foe free from the gems. It was darkness, the primordial darkness that dwelt in all places of the multiverse, easily driven off by light but never defeated, and forever ready to smother the light as it died.

The presence held the darkness within the stone aloft and blood dripped from its hand as the black thing bit and cut at it. With a final mighty roar, the presence threw the darkness away, but where it landed the newt could not say. Running over to the exhausted presence’s from she gazed in wonder at the gems she had given him, for now, they were truly radiant and coarsed with power beyond comprehension.

The story of course ended with the newt being revealed to be Valerianna and the gems the calamity gems, which the first empress would claim and use to found her empire.

But the darkness…

Cameron gazed at the spear. The most fundamental law of physics held that an action created an equal and opposite reaction, and this principle was reflected again and again in all aspects of reality. Was this then the equivalent of an inversion of the gems? Anti-matter to the gem’s matter? Unlikely, the gems were a source of power. A better description would be the spear was a black hole to the white hole behaviour that the gems seemed to exhibit.

“You do… I see it in your eyes.” Epsilon’s voice came almost as a whisper to Cameron’s ears, “I doubted that a weapon capable of spilling divine blood could truly exist, but now that it sits before me in all its menace and glory? Well… now I’m a true believer.”

“Divine. Keep your voice synthesizer muted and save us all from your inane superstitions.” Upsilon grumbled as he affixed another section of amour to Cameron. Stepping back, the dark prince lowered his hands and the tentacles retreated, “release!”

With a jolt, Cameron was in free fall, released from his suspended position as the scaffolding reacted with a hiss. He felt the impact of his feet as they connected with the floor, but it was deadened, far softer than a fall from such a height should have been. Presumably, whatever new suit of armour was being fashioned for the Dark King had some kind of kinetic dampener technology built into the frame. The descent also revealed the presence of a thick black cable that connected to the small of his back and trailed off along the floor behind him, to a point he could not see. Cameron didn’t take the time to dwell on the subject however, he was loose.

Had Upsilon forgotten he was awake in the midst of his sibling quarrel? Unlikely, it was a poor choice to underestimate the intellect of the dark princes. Why then? Taking a shaky breath Cameron’s eyes darted back and forth. There was an exit to his left, from there he knew precisely which way to the hangar, how to fly a ship and how best to evade the perimeter patrols. All he had to do was…

His heart sank. Though he strained with all his might the suit refused to follow his movements, its joints not even flexing as he tried to take even a small step towards freedom. Hollow metallic laughter echoed from Upsilon’s voice synthesizer, “I would advise against struggling.”

Cameron shot the frobot a venomous look. He growled through clenched teeth, “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it!”

Upsilon seemed taken aback momentarily, but he was quick to recover, “I do not have something so flimsy as opinions, fleshling. The force exerted by the synthetic muscles of the suit far exceeds the threshold of compressive and tensile strength found in human bone. All your efforts will gain you is pain and suffering.”

He’d lost his audience, however, as Cameron’s eyes flicked to a monitor that had lit up behind Upsilon in response to his voice. Ideas bloomed in his mind. Evidently, some of the machines in this room operated based on voice activation which seemed to include his own, that being the Dark King. Once again Cameron was left with a quandary. Was the suit similarly controlled? Unlikely but not impossible, especially if its controls were locked behind some passcode of phrase. He closed his eyes, wracking his brain.

Memories of the suit’s design came to him. It was far bulkier than that which he’d worn previously and had ditched the sleek and smooth design of most Newtopian armour in favour of a more medieval aesthetic. Sharp edges and ridges covered the dark metal, breaking up his silhouette, and turning him into a truly monstrous figure. Incorporated into this thicker plate were miniature versions of the shield generators that protected the castle and the ships of the fleet. They warped the air in a manner similar to heat distortions and their exhaust left a faint cloud of darkness around his very figure. The gauntlets were clawed as before but now lacked any of the tricks and gadgets they’d once held, no more would the Dark King rely on trickery to win battles, unrelenting power would more than suffice.

As he continued to search in vain for the passcode or command that might free him of his confinement Cameron felt his feet involuntarily lurch forward and to the side, he was turning around. Eyes snapping open, Cameron felt his stomach sink as he took in the sight before him.

There was the Core. The great machine sat behind a pillar of solid glass that occupied the center of the room, within the pillar lay the calamity box, its gems missing. Instead, the three transfer devices taken from the temples were hooked up to the empty gem ports and through them flowed the multi-coloured energies of the calamity gems. The transfer devices were connected to three thick conduits that ran all the way through the pillar, sprouting up from the floor and continuing up into the rafter of the workshop where they disappeared from view, travelling to yet higher levels of the castle. The Core shifted its colossal bulk, tilting so that poked out fully around the pillar in full view of Cameron. Cloak-bots, painted black and marked with the icon of the king’s guard stood at attention, forming an avenue towards the Core and the pillar. Its terrible glare fixed upon the young man and in the back of his head, Cameron heard a voice. It echoed about his mind, a facsimile of his own thoughts. Pain exploded in his temples, as though he’d gone a week without water.

>“My, my… don’t you look handsome in your new little outfit… go on young man, give us a spin to see how it fits.”

Cameron gave out a cry of pain as his body was forced into a twirl, finishing was an elegant leg.

>“Marvelous.”

“Get… Get out of my head!” Cameron’s voice was caught halfway between rage and terror.

>“Your head? Whatever gave you the impression it belonged to you? Approach, it is time for the king to receive his crown.”

Once again Cameron was pulled forward this time however his stride was elegant and measured, like a conductor approaching his stand. Upsilon and Epsilon silently fell in beside the pillar each one holding an item placed upon a red velvet cushion in the manner a ring bearer might at a wedding, or more likely, the royal armaments at a coronation.

Epsilon presented the spear, its unlight spilled forth and seemed to dim even the orange glow of the Core’s eyes. Frost was spreading on the cushion it lay upon and Cameron could see Epsilon nervously adjusting a bandage around his robotic extremities to prevent any accidental contact with the weapon.

What Upsilon held was perhaps less overtly terrifying but was no less noteworthy. It was a crown of great and terrible beauty. The same dark metal that made up everything associated with the Core and the Dark King had been forged into a robust headdress fitted for a human skull. Compared to the helmet which the Core had inhabited before, and which now sat abandoned on a nearby workbench, it was slimmer and had no vision meaning the wearer’s visage would be plainly visible. Or at least it would for most of the time, a mask accompanied the crown, adorned with the central glaring eye of the Core over the relief of a human skull so that the eye cut through where the nose should have been. Gone were the olm-like gill horns, instead formation of a similar design but far smaller rose up around the perimeter of the crown, giving it the peaks and points that defined such an object.

Overall, the crown looked like it had been forged from a number of broken blades, fused together and adorned with the trappings of the Leviathan royal family. This alone would give its wearer a dread aspect and with the detachable face mask allowed for terror to be personalized to the victim as the Dark King could adopt a twisted human appearance or fully embrace the alien aesthetic of the Core. Cameron’s attention was, however, drawn to a rather different feature of the crown: the jewels. Ensconced on the crown’s brow they blazed in radiant glory, one green, one blue, and one red.

With two of the greatest powers in the multiverse laid before him, Cameron could feel his knees wobble slightly. He’d been in the gem’s presence before but whatever shadow the spear had been cast from seemed to antagonize them. The air between them seemed ready to shatter, and a great pressure built within Cameron’s mind as his body was slowly brought nearer, a feeling not unlike that of a pressure shift while flying onboard an aircraft.

At last, he was brought directly before the pillar through which the calamity flowed to the empire’s factories and between the two dark princes. With a sudden jolt, he was forced to one knee. Through the headache, fear, and nausea that pummeled his senses Cameron lifted his head up to face the Core. Sweat ran down his temple and his complexion had turned pale, but still, his eyes burned bright as he starred down the metal monstrosity that had held him captive within his own mind for the better part of half a year now.

“Engage self-destruct!”

There was silence for a moment then a rattling screech was released from the Core. It was laughing.

>“Adorable.”

Cameron’s arm was violently hoisted to a horizontal position. Into his waiting hand, Epsilon thrust the haft of the Spear. Cameron didn’t even have a chance to cry out this time, the breath was ripped from his lungs as his body temperature dropped by several degrees, likely fatal were it not for the suit stabilizing his vitals. Veins became visible on his face, black as night and the whites of his eyes darkened substantially.

The Core nodded its massive orb-like body in an approximation of a nod to Upsilon. The dark prince approached. He paused for a moment, taking the time to witness the utter agony upon Cameron’s features as the spear fought to drain his very life force, “Savor these last few moments of reality, fleshling, they are the last you are likely to taste before you are too old and grey to be of use to us.”

A tear of black liquid dripped from the corner of Cameron’s eye. His voice was pained and hoarse but behind it still burned a fire undimmed, “I-if I ever… get out of this… you’re the first one I’ll kill…”

“Unlikely.” And with a steady motion, Upsilon set the crown atop Cameron’s head. There was a flash of light as it slid into place. The veins on Cameron’s face retreated, though his skin remained pale. His eyes flashed with solid colour. First black, then green, then red, then blue, then a combination of all four, and at last a final blaze of light orange light filled Cameron’s eyes and the pupils burned a pale yellow. The calamity gems on his brow burned brighter still, objecting to being so close to their dark opposite.

As energy crackled around Cameron’s kneeling frame Epsilon threw a cloak of black fabric about his shoulders, fastening it to his chest piece so that it flowed over his shoulders. Cameron’s head twitched and he rose to his feet, using the butt of the spear as a support. Reaching up with his free hand he reached up and ran gauntleted fingers down his cheek.

Turning to his two dark princes the Dark King gave a wicked grin, his face illuminated by the multicolour light of the calamity gems set into his dark crown, “This… is wonderful.” His voice was strong, once again layered with the myriad of voices that constituted the Core, and it was dripping in malice and delight. Closing his eyes he took in a deep breath, feeling the world around him with two new senses afforded to him, “I had forgotten the aromas of the world. You two have done me a great service.”

In unison with the cloak-bot honour guard, Epsilon and Upsilon knelt. The Dark King extended his free hand and one of the cloak-bots deposited the hilt of his laser sword therein. Igniting the sword the Dark King held both it and the void spear aloft, “The rise of one god necessitates the fall of another!” He held the spear point out, and as he did the main body of the Core behind him began to work away at the consols attached to the pillar that held the calamity box. A portal ripped into existence directly in line with the Dark King’s pointing spear. A wild look across his face and he grinned as he spoke, “I call a hunt! As in the days of old let the king’s party go forth a claim a great beast as prize!”

Pale blue light shone through the portal, no land, water, or sky was visible beyond it, only stars that twinkled in many brilliant colours. Upsilon stood and lumbered over to join the main Core body, “I shall remain to oversee portal operations, Epsilon attended to me.”

“Are you mad?” the wiry frobot rubbed his hands together in excitement, “we are travelling to the center of the multiverse to hunt its guardian, I will not pass up my chance to stare into the abyss!”

“I find your logic faulty, father is protected, you are not. I foresee few scenarios where you survive an encounter with a higher being.”

“You and your probabilities.” Epsilon’s voice was practically dripping with disdain, “There is more to the universe than your models and simulations. The higher mysteries require sacrifice… and risk. And for the secrets of existence, there is not much I would not risk.”

The Dark King for his part was ignoring their squabble and was striding towards the portal with relentless intent. Sensing his opportunity to join the expedition was fading Epsilon snapped his fingers at the cloak-bots, “Fall in, you lot! I’ll be needing some fodder.”

The Dark King strode out onto the impossible fields of the realms between realms. He breathed in the false air and smiled as he took in the endless stars that lit the realm. Last time he had been brought here against his will by the traitor Valerianna. He had felt small then, both due to the prospect of infinity made manifest before his eyes but also because of the presence of the creature moving through it. It had terrified him, an emotion he was far from accustomed to experiencing. Inflicting? Of course, but to be the one subjected to it was not an experience he ever wanted to go through again. The thought that something truly more powerful than he existed anywhere was anathema to him.

Standing before the tidal wave of its power he’d felt like a lost child, alone at sea, as a great leviathan swam beneath his floating form.

He was not afraid now. Armoured in light and armed with darkness the Dark King threw back his head and laughed aloud, his voice echoing throughout the realm. He felt it. Somewhere deep in the depth of this realm, it stirred, aware of the intruder in its realm. It was coming.

Behind him, Epsilon and the cohort of cloak-bot cowered. The dark prince was hastily weaving protective wards about himself and muttering words of prayer in the languages of a dozen dead peoples. The Dark King paid them no mind, he had not invited them here. This was to be combat between gods, what business did the little people have watching it?

It could have been seconds, it could have been hours, time flowed illogically here, but eventually, they broke upon their position. A great gale whipped up around the party, tearing at the Dark King’s cloak and Epsilon’s bandages. As it built in strength a great voice could be heard, rising above the tempest for all to hear.

“I bid thee welcome, oh dark one.”

Chapter Text

Epsilon gazed into the kaleidoscope of light and energy that danced before his visual sensors, both in energy visible to humans and amphibians but also across the breadth of the electromagnetic spectrum. The very presence of the great beast that dwelt in this realm between worlds was enough to precipitate a cascade of exotic particles in the space it now occupied, showering all in attendance with forms of radiation last seen at the universe’s birth.

What Upsilon would have given to see this spectacle, Epsilon thought. What insights into the fabric of reality would his analytically minded brother have gleaned from this interaction? The advancements in Neo-Imperial energistics alone would be world-changing, perhaps creating whole new frontiers of thought for scholars to explore.

No. It would never happen. Upsilon was a being of application, not inquiry. Knowledge was only as useful as the utility it provided its possessor and was otherwise easily discarded. The master of artificer would turn this discovery into a means of destruction, the beauty of the universe turned against its own inhabitants in a grotesque display of the primordial forces of reality.

This was not to say the dark prince known as Epsilon, master of the higher mysteries, had a concept of beauty. His programming on the subject was rather limited by design. He was fully aware of the phenomenon organic beings described when they witnessed an item, moment, or individual of subjectively alluring quality, but he possessed no means of feeling that way himself. This was the bubble both he and his siblings lived in, possessing a keen understanding of the context they existed within but had been, deliberately, deprived of the tools to fully immerse themselves within it. It was a tactic the Dark King used to control his so-called children, creating a true barrier between them and the world beyond his rule they could never surmount. So, Epsilon had no concept of beauty, or of any of the finer things of the world. At least… he hadn’t before now.

Beauty was the only word he found within his cogitator units that describe the beast. It was simultaneously a singularity of light that banished all dark things before it and a great wave of peace that surged over him and calmed the anxiety induced by his self-preservation subroutines. That things of such age and grace lived just beneath the surface of reality filled him with a warmth, though his internal diagnostics registered no temperature change within his chassis. As he gazed into its majesty, he was only vaguely aware of the conversion that was concurrently transpiring between his father-master and the great beast. Even less so was he aware of the cloak-bots around him steadily undergoing critical system failure.

“You know of me?”

“There are very few things in existence that are not known to me, and though I would wish it otherwise; yes, I do know of you, Dark King of Amphibia.”

The great voice of the beast boomed throughout the starlit realm, echoing within the Dark King’s own head as its words passed over him. It was manifesting itself now before him, folding the space about it. He got the sense that it was diminishing itself, bending down in a manner not dissimilar to how a mortal man might crouch down to the eye level of a small child.

A snarl formed on his lips, “You would do well not to insult me, beast.”

The movement stopped. With a rush of outpouring energy the beast brought its full presence to bear, “And you would do well to understand the distinction between care and condescension. But very well, let us converse as equals.”

As the Dark King scoffed the manifestation completed and the beast stood before him in all its divine glory. It appeared to his eyes as a sphere, but one that flowed into and about itself in a nimbus of colours, blue, green and pink. It seemed like a great eye engulfing his entire vision, staring both into and past his person. The monarch got the distinct impression that he was meeting a gaze coming from three perspectives, not one. As his own eyes finally adjusted to the wretched dysfunctionality of it all the realization came to him, it was a hypersphere. A high-dimensional object not meant to be witnessed by eyes which dwelt in three-dimensional space.

A small pain pulled at the back of his mind; the experience was uncomfortable. Indeed, a mortal mind, he estimated, would only withstand exposure for a matter of nanoseconds before collapsing into insanity at best and brain death at worst. It was fortunate then, that the master of the known multiverse was no mere mortal.

A voice boomed around him, though it came from the higher dimensional creature before him the noise seemed to emanate from the very air they breathed, “I am the Guardian of the Cosmos. Few are the number who can gaze upon my true form without fear, and none count themselves as entities bound to the mortal realms. I said before I know of you, so too do I know of what you intend by your visit to my home.”

“If that were so, why bring yourself within blood-letting reach of my blade?” The Dark King brought his spear, black as the night, forward. Its point was sat meters away from the Guardian’s pulsating form, and the stars in occluded as the monarch swept it forward grew cold and dead. He leered into the deity of the stones’ features, “I hold your bane within my grasp, and even now I can feel it thirst for your light.”

“I know all things that could be and those that can never be.” the pitch of its voice did not change, reflecting no fear despite the Dark King’s threats, “The outcome of this conflict, should that be the course of action you choose to pursue, being one of them. My existence can be traced back, along the axis you know as time, to before the birth of your universe. Death holds no fear for me, for I have lived far longer than any deserve.” A sense of vertigo boiled in the Dark King’s stomach as the world around him twisted, the stars streaming past him like comets as the landscape of the starry void shifted into something new, “ All I ask, black monarch of a reanimated empire, is that you allow me to show you the alternative paths you might tread. All equal in glory, if not in substance.”

Smoke boiled from the chimneys of great iron cloisters, temples that seemed hewn from the shadows themselves, their walls black iron and stained with the blood of millions. Throngs of humans streamed into the temples, the black robes they bore marked with the same burning orange eye that glared down upon them from up high as Luna, Earth’s once pale sibling, crested the horizon. The skies of Earth were charred, poised by centuries of rampant industry and resource extraction, in service of an empire that now spanned the stars of a dozen universes.

Standing amid the vile scene the Dark King laughed aloud as he heard the telltale cries of live offerings being proffered up to his glory from within the temple walls. He turned to the Guardian, who now manifested as Marcy, grown now to adulthood and bearing the same crown of the three gems upon her brow as Cameron did now, “Is this supposed to make me quail? To repent for the wrongs, I shall commit? Do you see the power here?! This is divinity, true divinity, not the squalid hermit life you lead!”

The Guardian shook Marcy’s head, it spoke in her voice, calm and soothing though mixed with the chorus of the Core, “I told you I would reveal the paths you might walk. This is one of them, your great triumph. A trillion souls will know, and fear, your name and you shall rule unopposed till the last star of the last universe burns cold.”

The Dark King’s eyes narrowed, and he gazed upon the light of the moon, his own eyes reflected upon it, “you are foolish to assume even that would be the end.”

“Perhaps. At such great lengths of time, even my sight cannot resolve the truth of the matter, but that is not the point for which I brought you here. Yes, this future is possible but it is not certain. Your enemies are many, Dark King.”

“Many, but weak.” The Dark King sneered, “A pebble cannot stop a landslide.”

“I have seen many things in my long life, oh king. As improbable as it may be, somewhere in the infinite reach of the universe…” The Guardian’s voice shifted once more, still Marcy’s but now without the sibilant whispers of the Core. The Dark King turned, Marcy stood before him, Sasha and Anne too.

Anne spoke, “…a miracle happens…”

Then Marcy, “…a coin lands on its side…”

The Sasha, “…and even a pebble stops a landslide.”

The world around them changed, swirling as a new landscape took shape. It was Earth again, but decidedly unmolested by the Dark King’s hand. Tall skyscrapers of glass and steel rose into the thin cloud of smog that settled over the city. All around them was the hustle and bustle of city life. People went about their lives, some journeys beginning, others ending. Homeless people slept under makeshift tents, young couples made out on city park benches. All around people were living through the best and worst days of their lives in equal measure.

“In defeat, you are forgotten. Mortals are fickle that way. No matter the hurt or pain you inflict upon them they will pay more heed to the present than any lessons taught to them in the past, for better or worse.”

The Dark King curled his lip, his annoyance was plain in his voice, “Does your philosophy have a point, Guardian?”

Once more the scene shifted and now the Dark King and the Guardian, this time clad as Cameron in a long white lab coat, stood overlooking the same city as before. Now though, the air was clear, and the buildings grew taller and were beautiful in their grace. Feats of architectural beauty, unmatched by any due to the limits of Euclidean geometry and the known laws of physics, dotted the city. The ocean gleamed a brilliant blue and in the waters, the Dark King could see sea life teeming in numbers that had only existed prior to human overfishing over a century ago.

As he turned his eyes skyward the Dark King could see Luna once more. This time, however, Earth’s satellite gleamed as the light of Sol caught its surface. Laced upon it were dark lines which upon closer inspection revealed themselves to be settlements and anchorages.

In the streets of the city, he spied people, of all different variations and variety, and not just humans. Frogs, newts, toads, and even some human-like beings with pointed ears or horns. He could see some small disagreements occurring, but such incidents were scant few and rarely did they seem to evolve into anything ugly.

“In victory, you will be fear; in defeat, you will be forgotten; but here… here you will be loved.” The Guardian smiled at the Dark King, “The scars you left will not heal, but the wounds will. Out of all the possible futures I see this one is the most certain should you attempt it. You have the will, oh king, you have the wisdom and the strength to forge a future for all people should you have to heart to seek it.”

The Dark King was silent. He watched the world laid out before him. The beauty of it all, the peace. Then he turned to the Guardian and his features were cold as the iron of his crown, “and what happens after a thousand years? It may be so that these people will love the one who brought them paradise but what about when they forget? In but a few short generations they will take their benefactor for granted, and in a few generations more still they will forget that they had a benefactor to begin with.” His voice began biting and vicious as his anger built, “And if I were to remind them of the deference I was owed, they would declare me a tyrant! So tell me, oh great and wise Guardian of the cosmos, in what state of madness would I need to be in to discard a future as a tyrant only to be branded with the very same label but with none of the trappings!?”

The Guardian’s voice was quiet, almost timid, “A madness many would call compassion.”

“Compassion?” the Dark King threw back his head a roared with laughter, “Compassion and a gold farthing will buy you a copper penny!” Holding out his spear the Dark King thrust it towards the moon. The air buckled, and the sky grew cold. There was a crack and then as if struck by a hammer Luna shattered. Though it should have taken hours for the debris to breach the atmosphere, chunks of moon rock thundered down upon the city, igniting the beautiful structures in orange flames as a dark providence guided the debris with cruel delight.

The Guardian opened his mouth to say something but then closed it and watched with forlorn eyes as the city and the millions of inhabitants within were cut down by the Dark King’s malice.

When the dust of the cataclysm finally settled the Dark King strode forth and planted the butt of his dark spear upon the disintegrated remains of what had once been a vast and gorgeous tower. The light of fire still burning in the distance danced along his armour and a smile of wretched cruelty and satisfaction adorned his lips, “I would rather die a million deaths than live one day at the beck and call of lesser beings. I have too lived many lives Guardian, and in each of them, I stood by the same motto. As I laid claim to world upon world and brought my realm to the pinnacle of existence one sentiment drove me forth, as it does now: victory or death.” He turned, a twinkle in his cold eyes as he met the Guardian’s, “And I intend no deviation now.”

Still bearing Cameron’s visage, the Guardian sighed and lowered his head, “When I crafted the gems for mortals I did so that I might see where unlimited power would lead you. Though it brings me to great sadness that this is the ends it entails, I will not judge your decision, for the tools with which you forged your destiny I gave to you freely.” In an instant, they were back in the starry void, with Epsilon and the cohort of rapidly failing cloak-bots standing behind them.

Apparently, no time had passed since the Guardian had transported the two of them away, that is if they had travelled at all, for Epsilon still seemed transfixed by the radiance of the Guardian.

“Enough talk.” The Dark King’s grip tightened about the haft of his spear as he held it with both hands, “I did not come here to treat with destiny, but to seize it.” A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, “I suppose I should offer you some measure of thanks for the power I now wield. As such, I shall make this quick.”

“Ah, but where’s the sport in that?” A wave of energy rippled out from the Guardian. It rolled over the king and his party like a tsunami of multi-coloured fire, searing flesh and steel alike. The Dark King brought his hand up, his suit’s shields taking the brunt of the divine aura as it washed over him. Still, his armour smoked, cloaking him in shadow. The frobots were not so lucky.

As the might of divinity unleashed rolled towards him Epsilon was struck out of his stupor. The cloak-bots crumpled around him, their frames reduced to slag or even crude ore as they bathed in the raw energy of creation. Pain shot through his chassis, burning, unending pain. He raised his right arm, signing a protection rune between himself and the cascade of power that was the Guardian. The bandages on his limb were the first to go, evaporated by the great heat. Then his digits, melted down into stumps as he finished the rune. It would not hold, he knew that. As such as the sun would rise the rune would shatter and he would be blasted from existence like his guards.

He cast his gaze around frantically. There had to be some way to survive this. He’d looked into the heart of the multiverse, he couldn’t die now, not after everything. Then he saw it, a chance, a shadow. More specifically, his father’s shadow. The dark aura cast by the king burned a hole of unlight into the inferno, like the shadow cast in a stone’s lee.
Epsilon broke into a run, head bowed into the storm. He made it ten strides before the first motor failed in his left leg. He began hobbling along in a pitiful display. He raised his head, looking towards the shadow, towards safety. It was too far; he’d never make it. Unless…

“Father!” his voice box was strained, the radiation tearing it to shreds as he battled against the wind, “Father please, help me!”

But no reply came. Epislon’s left leg snapped at the shin, torn asunder by a mighty cosmic ray. He pulled himself along the starry expanse, melted nubs digging into the impossible surface until even they gave out and he could no longer find purchase. He saw the Dark King’s gaze turn to him and he raised his arm, reaching out, begging for salvation.

But all that he was met with was amusement. A sneer and a cold smirk were the last things Epsilon, dark prince of the Neo-Newtopian Empire saw plaster upon his father’s face before his vision faded and the darkness claimed him.

Turning away from Epsilon’s blasted corpse, the Dark King grimaced and swung out with his spear, parting the stream of excited particles. Just as quickly as it had been raised, the gale broke, leaving behind only a shower of exotic radiation dancing about the starry realm. As his vision cleared from the radiance the Dark King became aware that his surroundings had changed once more. He was in a lush forest. Trees, of immense proportion, grew about him, their dense foliage choaking out much of the light that beat down upon them from above in all save for one space. A great rock rose out of the wood, cragged and moss-covered it stood above even the mighty trees, a stone sentinel of the forest. Movement caught the Dark King’s eyes. Up in the rock, something stirred, something large and grey-furred. He did not have to wait long for the watcher to reveal itself.

It was a great cat, silver-grey with white whiskers and a beard. Slumping down lazily upon a rocky ledge it gazed down upon the Dark King. It was then that he noticed the other features of the animal, though it largely resembled a house cat it was in possession of traits which were distinctly very non-feline. Wings of ivory white curled upon its back with a wingspan about double the cat’s length, which itself was about five meters, bigger than most cars. A crownlike tuft of white fur sat upon its head and within it was the three calamity gems, with the lower of the two, green and blue, in place where its eyes should have been.

It was old, far older than even the Dark King had reckoned. In depictions, the Guardian was told to have a glossy black coat with only highlights of silver and white, but this creature was greying. The Dark King wondered to himself if perhaps the spear was poisoning it, accelerating the aging process. His musings were cut short, however, when he noticed one last final detail upon the Guardian’s frame. A collar, with the name Domino 3, printed upon a tag that dangle from the loop of fabric about the cat’s neck.

Before he could inquire about the item the Guardian spoke, “You came here seeking a hunt did you not? Well then, cruel hunter, let us hunt!” With a flash the Guardian was gone, the only evidence of its passing: a few gouges into the solid rock from left by its claws.

The Dark King grimaced. The stone had been cut almost half a foot deep.

He pushed through the dense undergrowth of the false forest, passing as silently as the shadow he appeared to be. He stuck to shade, letting the natural darkness obscure his form and dodging the shafts of sunlight that managed to pierce the dense foliage that formed a verdant canopy high above his head.

Pausing in the lee of an ivy-ridden oak, who had grown so large four adults could not have reached around it if they joined hands, the Dark King’s eyes scanned for signs of his quarry. Save for the occasional creak of wood or rustle of wind through leaves, the forest was silent, dead silent. The Guardian’s conjured forest felt real enough, but it had neglected to populate its construct with the myriad of lifeforms, big and small, that dwelt in a wood such as this. No bird song echoed through the treetops and without the hum of a million odd insects even the dullest of ears could pick up a pin drop in this place. The only disturbances one would hear in this forest were that of the two hunters stalking one another, and the wind.

The wind. It too was false of course, there was no weather within the Guardian’s realm, and its presence was telling, but telling what was another matter altogether. The Dark King’s nose twitched. The Guardian had taken the form of a feline which among other things had an evolved sense of smell far beyond anything a human or amphibian was capable of. The wind was not constant, it changed direction often, acting more like a great fan circling the horizon than any natural weather pattern.

It was the Guardian’s doing, no doubt about it. So long as it remained downwind from his position the beast could track his movements no matter what measures he took to conceal himself from view or make silent his movements. It was a cunning strategy, but one with a distinct flaw, for if the beast remained downwind then the Dark King would always know in turn its approximate location.

For lesser prey, that would have been the end of the inquest, but he knew doubting the beast’s intelligence would only end poorly. So, the hunt came down to a gamble and a bluff. Was the Guardian hiding downwind, tracking his every movement; or was it prowling towards him from some other angle, waiting patiently as it waited for an opportunity to strike while he chased a red herring?

He wiped a drop of sweat from his brow. What would he do with such an advantage? Disorient his foe, make them second guess their own knowledge, drive them into a panic, and then once they’d finally reached the end of their rope strike a decisive blow that they’d be too worn down to avoid. The strategy formed in his head. The Guardian would move between both approaches, circling closer and closer, using the wind and regular stealth in an apparent pattern to lull the Dark King into a rhythm. Then, once it had him roped up into its game, it would direct a wind that would sharply change direction. It would force the Dark King into a split-second decision which, thanks to the pattern it had created in his mind, would have already been made for him, guaranteeing a kill on its part.

He smirked. It was a cunning plan, but not so cunning that it was beyond his ken. After all, nothing could be. Not the designs of the godly, nor the schemes of mortals held any measure of threat to the Dark King of the multiverse. Now, he would prove it.

He slid from the tree’s shadow; his movements as graceful as they were silent. He felt the wind change as it brushed against the exposed skin of Cameron’s face, seconded by the sensor array built into his crown. Out of the corner of his eye, upwind from his position, the Dark King noticed movement between the lofty foliage of the woods. Seems his analysis was accurate, as expected.

He kept up the pretence of stealth, though now moved with greater speed. Timing and positioning would be the keys to success here. As his head swiveled side to side his eyes finally came to rest upon a patch of suitable terrain. Two large trees, far greater in form than any that dwelt on Earth or Amphibia sprouted from the ground and towered above the flora as though they were two bark-clad towers. Standing atwix the two the Dark King had positioned himself in what was effectively a corridor, accessible only from two obvious avenues.

He knelt down between the trees, making as if to search the soil for tracks. The wind rustled about him, its vector changing rapidly. He could hear movement, both of the wind through the trees and the telltale sounds of claws biting deep into the wood. He grinned, taking a deep breath. This was it.

With a sudden burst of energy, the wind shifted, throwing the Dark King’s cloak about like a flag. He knew where the Guardian was coming from, he could see it in his mind’s eye, picturing its fearsome form flying through the air towards him, teeth bared, claws extended, all zeroing in on his throat.

He whirled around, the spear leaping forward in a strike of black lightning. Its point cleaved the air, raising its own gust of chilled dead wind as it did so, thirsting for blood and light. It reached out, seeking the target it was promised.

Nothing.

Time seemed to freeze as the most minute sense of terror entered the Dark King’s mind for the first time in millennia. His spear cleaved empty air, and though the force of the mythic weapon’s thrust sent out such a gale that the forest before him was laid low it was scant in terms of his avowed foe.

In those nanoseconds of fear his biomechanical brain ran like wildfire.

>INPUT: RE-RUN PATTERN ANALYSIS
>…RUNNING…
>OUTPUT: ++ERROR++ ANOMALIES DETECTED

>INPUT: EVALUATE ANOMALIES
>…EVALUATING…
>OUTPUT: NO TRACE OF ENTITY_THE_GUARDIAN PRESENT ALONG EXPECTED VECTORS
>CONCLUSION: ENTITY_THE_GUARDIAN HAS DEVIATED FROM EXPECTED BEHAVIORAL PROFILES

>INPUT: EXTRAPOLATE ALTERNATE BEHAVIORAL PROFILES
>…COMPARING…
>OUTPUT: ++ERROR++ INSUFFICIENT DATA TO FIT OBSERVATIONS
>OUTPUT: ++EVALUATION++ PRECONCEPTIONS FLAWED

>INPUT: EVASION_PROTOCOL
>OUTPUT: ++ERROR++ UNABLE TO PREDICT NEW TRAJECTORY

>INPUT: EXPAND ENVIRONMENTAL PARAMETERS
>…ANALYZING...
>OUTPUT: SURFACE_TEMPERATURE... NORMAL
>OUTPUT: TOPOGRAPHIC_DISTURBANCES... MINIMAL
>OUTPUT: ATMOSPHERIC_PRESSURE... NORMAL

>INPUT: REANALYZE: TOPOGRAPHIC_DISTURBANCES
>…ANALYZING…
>OUTPUT: ++ALERT++ GROUND-LEVEL ANOMALY DETECTED
>OUTPUT: ++ALERT++ ENERGY LEVELS INCONSISTENT WITH NATURAL ENVIRONMENT
>OUTPUT: ++ EVASION_PROTOCOL ENGAGED++

The ground beneath the Dark King’s feet erupted, sending earth, stone, and plant matter every which way. Only through the near precognitive reaction speed granted to him by the Core’s immense processing power, did he react in time to avoid the slashing claws as they burst forth from their hiding place beneath the forest floor.

He’d been a fool. The Guardian’s shapeshifting capabilities were well known to him, but more so he had overlooked the rather critical piece of information which related to the environment itself. It was all the Guardian, in some shape or form. It had created this forest, it had created the ground, the wind, the light; he’d been a fool to assume it would abide by the rules of three-dimensional Euclidean geometry here.

Still, as the wall of fur and fang surged past him and disappeared once more into another layer of reality, the Dark King could not help but admire the beast’s cunning. Its trap had been well laid, framing the encounter as a traditional contest of wits between man and beast on a hunt, no doubt chosen to cater to the Dark King’s predisposition to viewing the god as a great beast rather than an equal intellect.

It had allowed him to make assumptions, both of its mind and the rules of the engagement. Now, however, the jig was up. This wasn’t a hunt; it was a fight to the death. This was not the time or place for clever tactics or brilliant maneuvers, the battle was joined and only one of them would be walking away from the death struggle.

The dark spear swung. Though the Guardian’s maneuver had nearly ended the bout right then and there, its use of the false environment had revealed a major weakness, that being the environment itself. The midnight-edged weapon cut through wood and earth alike, cleaving a gash that bled light forth in a river of starlight. Even as it gurgled forth the spear drank it up, consuming the light and turning the wound upon the very forest black and cold.

A roar shook the whole realm, pained and agonizing as it was loud. The Dark King’s helmet crown muffled its volume, preventing permanent damage but he felt his whole body tremble at the power of the sound. He did not wait for a response, however, holding the spear aloft he thrust the point deep into the ground, screaming aloud in anger as he did.

Dark roots of night sprung out from the spear point, ensnaring the trees and flora of the forest in their embrace, and the forest began to choke. Leaves turned from green to orange, to red, and then finally to black, disintegrating as they fell to the ground below. Mounds of black power blanketed the once lush forest floor as if in some grim perversion of winter. The motes of a dead land swirled around the Dark King, forming great and sinister wings.

Wrenching the spear free the Dark King gazed upwards, noting the light of three stars fleeing into the void, seeking shelter amongst the twinkling light of the realm. He grimaced. Both had played their hand, not it was time for a final clash.

As the trees fell to the same darkness, disintegrating as what little light within them was consumed, the Dark King crouched. The wings, now as wide as a solar system, extended. The realm about him withered, the stars growing dim as the shadow grew in power so that eventually only the light of the three gems upon his crown lit that part of the universe. He gripped the spear tightly, feeling the primordial hunger, the desire to consume, the hatred it held for the light. He let it enter his soul, let it join its rage to his, and steeped himself in its power.

Then he was airborne.

Light was limited, restricted by the necessity of a source, a font of power to draw upon. It was also, quite famously, limited in speed. Restricted by so many facets of existence that it was a wonder that light survived at all. To most that was a wonderful thing, a truly beautiful feature of an otherwise grim existence. Others knew it was a fleeting thing.
There was no speed of dark. It was everywhere that light quailed, and beyond, in places light could never hope to reach. An all-consuming predator keen to crush this brief anomaly in existence and return everything to the dark from whence it came.

The Dark King surged through galaxies and star clusters, his great wings murdering the pathetic glimmers in the void, leaving a cold emptiness in his wake. Far off, its feet straddling a supercluster, he saw the Guardian. The great cat puffed out its chest and roared, sending a wave of multicoloured energy ripping across the gap between them. With a bound it charged, carrying the wave along with it as it went. Within it, the Dark King saw starburst galaxies spawning new light, and protostars gathering planets about their warm embrace.

He held the spear with both hands, point aimed squarely at the Guardian’s throat as he sailed through this mad universe at speeds beyond the comprehension of mortal minds. The waves collided. Stars exploded and plants cracked. Space itself buckled, ground down into dust by the shear forces on display. Distance lost all meaning, as did time. The Dark King’s spear bit deep into the Guardian’s flesh, hungrily devouring the divine ichor that spurted for the wound.

With a roar of rage, the Guardian sank its fangs into the Dark King’s shoulder, its teeth ripping through the wound where, months ago, Andrias’ blade had found its mark. Howling in pain the Dark King swung the spear about, the haft cracking the Guardian under the chin, causing it to release its grip. There was no time to recover. Without pause the two combatants clashed again. Spear-cut flesh, claws-raked armour, and fangs searched for a throat.

Seeing the fearsome fangs speeding towards his face, glinting in the light of the calamity gems, The Dark King jammed the spear forward horizontally. The haft of the black weapon lodged itself between the Guardian’s jaws. Reflexively, it bit down, pearly white teeth locking onto the shaft. Bellowing with exertion the Dark King heaved with all his might, servos hissing within the joints of his amour as load tolerances were exceeded. The Guardian was lifted high, leveraged over the Dark King’s shoulder by the spear it gripped in its mouth, and thrown bodily towards a globular cluster. The resulting impact detonated the stars in a rapid succession of supernovae.

The energy backlash ignited its fur, staining the chaotic void with the stink of burning hair. It opened its mouth to screech in pain, releasing the spear as it did so. With the Guardian convulsing, and the spear now freed, the Dark King saw his opportunity. He did not hesitate.

Echoing the Guardian’s scream of pain with his own, galaxy-shattering cry of triumph, the Dark King leapt forward, all his weight thrown behind the spear of shadows. Like a thunderbolt from the heavens, he struck his stricken foe. Such was the force behind the Dark King’s wrath that the spear disappeared in its entirety, fully submerged as it passed into the Guardian's chest, directly through its divine heart.

Reality split once more. Light spilled from the Guardian as if trying to escape the cancer that had entered its body. It availed it nought, for the darkness, now presented with a feast beyond all others would not be denied so much as a morsel of power. Excruciatingly, painfully, deliberately the light was dragged back into the Guardian’s chest, entering through the black wound that marred its beautiful grey fur.

The Dark King knelt, panting with exertion, blood dripping from his mouth, shoulder, and a dozen other wounds. One by one, the stars faded, and the universe grew cold and dark. The shadows crept through the void until at last only six points of light remained, the three great eyes of the Guardian and, mirrored opposite to them, the three gems in the Dark King’s crown.

The Guardian raised its head, tears of light flowing gently down its cheeks, “Thou art mighty, vile one. Let it never be said otherwise.”

“It is only right that one’s talents should be recognized, but you would have done yourself a service to make that recognition some short moments ago.” The Dark King’s voice dripped with disdain and contempt.

“Perhaps,” the great grey head of the Guardian nodded, “But who then would render the service thou have given unto me this day? I do not think many, if any, exist.”

The Dark King’s eyes narrowed, and his lip curled, “service? I struck your heart, not your head, beast. Service? What madness possesses you in your last moments?” He paused, before baring his teeth in rage, “Service?! Do you mean to claim dying was part of some greater scheme, some grand strategy of your design?”

The glow of the Guardian’s eyes began to dim, “I do not remember my beginning, so divorced was I from the axis of time that a beginning, or more importantly, an ending, were so foreign to me as concepts that they might as well have been fairy tales.” The grey head lulled to one side, laying down upon the cold sea of dead stars, “I am weary of it all. So, very tired of never-ending. I have seen the birth and death of a million-billion universes and all the joys and heartbreak therein. Never for me to experience that, no, nothing to frame the joy I feel in my heart for the friends and family that I have made, for outside of time that I am goodbye is never the end.”

Weakly the Guardian reached up to its neck and with a mighty claw, cut through the well-worn collar about its neck. Gazing down at the inscription through clouding eyes it smiled, “I go now, truly and forever, knowing that which I have left behind is in good hands evermore.”

The Dark King chuckled, venom lacing his words as he spoke, “Yes, go now sleepy head, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of everyone. Very. Good. Care.”

“Do not presume that I am finished dealing with you, but let that be something you find out in due course.”As the great eyes closed for the last time a final whisper, too faint for even the Dark King to hear, left the Guardian of the Cosmos’ lips, “Thank you… Anne…”

Far away, in another place, and another time. An old woman, wild of hair and resplendent in blue, gazed off into the infinite. She reached out and caressed the old grey head of the mighty creature who had chosen her as its replacement so many eons ago. In a quiet voice that mingled with the song of the stars, she returned the whisper, “Goodbye, my sweet kitty.”

The sound of searing flesh echoed through the infinite reaches of the Guardian’s former domain. With a final flick of the laser sword’s tip, the Dark King gave his work a tug. With a sickening noise, the pelt was pulled free, and he held it aloft. It stank, both of death but also of brunt hair and cooked blood. The grey fur, once fine and silky smooth was matted and ripped, with several holes in its surface. It had shrunken, now about half the size it had been moments before, seemingly deflating as the Guardian’s spirit moved on.

Ignoring the grizzly nature of his price the Dark King swung it about his shoulders, positioned the head with its empty eye sockets and bared fangs rested atop his pauldron. Rolling his shoulders to feel the weight of the divine beast’s pelt the Dark King grinned wickedly, face illuminated by the light of the calamity gems, “I guess you were right, beast, you aren’t done with me. In fact, I think you’ll be coming along with me on many an adventure.” He threw back his head and laughed.

“Thou art a wretched beast, oh Dark King of Amphibia. Wholly undeserving of pity or mercy. Were it not so that you wore the innocent about you like a shield I would have cast you down into the fire of whatever hell I could find but alas my heart stays my hand.”

The Dark King twisted, sword drawn as he searched for the source voice, “Round two, eh? Maybe I’ll fashion myself a pair of mittens from you this time beast!”

The voice continued as if it had not heard him, “Know that I saw how our combat would end, and so have devised this sanction upon thy being. You are indeed mighty, Dark King, but even your malice cannot transcend the barriers of time. So, in the shelter of the now dead past, I force thee, choose oh king. Keep the boy, or keep the power.”

A wry grin crossed the Dark King’s features, “the dead have no power here.” He was about to say more when a great torrent of air ripped through the dead universe. In the scant bit of light cast by the gems, the Dark King saw the Guadian’s corpse fall away, disintegrating into nothing. Where it had once lain was now laid bare the black spear, its unlight somehow darker than the pitch black it was set against.

“Now, if we’re quite finished…” The Dark King made to take a step towards his weapon but found himself unable to move. Before he could question this further the whole world seemed to tip backwards, with a force that felt like gravity pulling him backward. A light burst into existence behind him and craning his neck around he recognized the interior of the castle workshop, with Upsilon and his Core body dutifully operating the calamity box.

“No. No, no, no, no! You will not deny me my prize!”

“You had your prize.” There was a slight chuckle as the voice spoke, “But it seems you cared more about taking a trophy the retrieving it.”

With a scream of frustration, the Dark King fell backward, into the portal, into Amphibia. Rising from the ground he whirled and turned to Upsilon, “Get me a jet pack!”

The dark prince paused, unsure of how to respond, “Father, what happe-”

“My boot thrusters won’t reach that far! Jet pack!” his voice was irate, bordering on screeching.

As Upsilon raced off to locate the desired hardware the Dark King turned back to the portal. Light was starting to return to the realm, though it was still distinctly darker than before. He glared over to his Core body, “Move the portal closer, see if we can just reach it.”

As they hovered closer to the former site of the Guardian’s death body the Dark King was perched on the edge of the portal, gazing frantically into the other universe. With a sudden shout of joy, he hopped up and down like a child on Christmas, “over there! See! See! Bring me closer!”

The portal approached the spear, its dark shape now clearly visible in the twilight-esque lighting of the universe. As Upsilon raced back into the workshop, a variety of thrusters and propulsion devices jangling about in his various grasping hands the Dark King waved dismissively, “Those won’t be necessary Upsilon.”

The Dark King rubbed his hands together, “A worthy try, beast, but not even you can foresee every outcome.” He took a step forward, and stopped, or rather, was forced to stop. Furrowing his brow, the Dark King extended his hand to reach through the portal. As it drew closer to the surface a great force pushed back, until even with his full might behind it, he could make no further progress.

A howl of anger erupted from the Dark King’s lungs, and he drew his sword slashing wildly at the portal, desperately trying to break down whatever barrier had been erected. He chanted incantations of banishment, moved his hands in rituals of dismissal, and turned the yield up on his sword until the stones around him began to soften from the heat.

Such was his rage that it took him several moments before he noticed that the spear was not alone on the other side of the portal.

Standing in the field of dying stars, with an expression of abject terror and confusion upon his face and a hand firmly grasping the haft of the black spear, the young man gazed into the Dark King’s face.

Black veins, courtesy of the weapon he held snaked across his features. He was clad in a mishmash of ancient, powered armour pieces, which though skillfully assembled often fit together poorly. Beneath this, he wore a bright green tunic, the custom stitching done in Ribbitvale still evident upon it despite the wear and tear it had undergone. Blonde hair grew wild atop his head, falling down so that it almost covered the blue eyes that met the orange ones of the Dark King, identical in form but twisted for a dark purpose.

Cameron Andrew Waybright gazed into his own possessed features, and he was at a loss for words.

Chapter Text

“You must be pleased.”

Lambda’s cold mechanical optical sensors slewed over to his sister. Though the Imperial Inquisitor’s frobot features remained frozen in their grim mechanical countenance, the way his clawed digits tapped on the metal table in a rolling rhythm betrayed his displeasure.

Alpha, similarity emotionless in visage, tilted her head to the side, “Bufo has eluded your grasp on numerous occasions. Now Beta hands him to you on a silver platter, have you thanked him.”

“Your humour leaves something to be desired, Supreme Commander” Lambda’s voice was icy, his voice synthesizer programmed to mimic the cold authority of the upper-class Newtopian accent. Turning his gaze from his sister his eyes fixed upon the holographic map of Amphibia that was projected upon the table the two dark princes sat at.

Situated in the heart of Alpha’s flagship, the Lance of Valerianna, the command center was spartan and spotless, with not so much as a pen out of place. The ship, part of the new Waterdog refit line, had served in the Newtopian Starfleet for over ten millennia, dating back to the days of the first empress. Along with armour and firepower upgrades, the ship had been filled out with a suite of powerful sensory and communication banks, allowing the Supreme Commander to exert unprecedented control over any battlefield she presided over. Outwardly, however, the ship showed no signs of these enhancements, allowing it to blend in seamlessly with the rest of the Neo-Imperial Fleet, preventing any enemy from engaging in headhunting missions without significant guesswork.

Not that there existed an enemy capable of challenging the fleet Lamba mused as he gazed upon the steady stream of data scrolling in the air above the map. With the vast bulk of the empire’s military might mustering for the invasion of the human homeworld of Terra, he and his sister had been working with a shoestring budget to counter the extensive insurgency that reached across the breadth of the continent, and still, they were gaining ground. Sure, it had been ground they had lost in the initial surge of rebellions but through Alpha’s strategic genius and his tactical brilliance, it was being reclaimed at rates previous estimates had deemed impossible.

Rebel holdouts were being slaughtered or captured en-masse, the supposed unbreakable spirits of the freedom fighters cracking under the relentless pressure of a foe that did not sleep, tired or suffer from low morale. Lambda gazed upon the casualty reports, noting the names of every rebel cell leader as they scrolled passed and exactly how he had engineered their demise.

Meriden, a frog farmer turned revolutionary, ambushed at her safe house by a team of cloak-bots. From the reports, she and her officers would need to be buried in soup cans.

Jeorge, a newt and former member of the Newtopian Guard, roasted alive by inferno bots after being drawn out of hiding by the promise of a prisoner exchange. Predictable and foolhardy, the prisoners had been dead for weeks.

Verrik, a toad from the western tower leading a mixed band of rebels to unite with the Wartwood rebellion. Lambda had dealt with him personally, ambushing his convoy of rebels and civilians as they traversed through a supposedly hidden gorge. A quick slash of a laser dagger across the throat had sealed the deal and left the toad with just enough life left to watch his convoy be buried under a rockslide.

Over the last few weeks, he’d orchestrated the elimination of all of the empire’s greatest enemies, with only a few notable exceptions. The Wartwood Rebellion high command was of course at the top of his list. Generals Sasha, Anne, and Marcy as they had taken to calling themselves were considered of special interest, but the Dark King had been quite explicit in his orders, those three were to be left to him. This still left Lamba with several worthy targets, however; Toad Captains Grime and Beatrix, the frog leader Hopediah Plantar, and Tritonio Espada of the Merry Band. Each of these amphibians was a prize unto themselves, representing key pillars of the Rebel’s command structure. Their deaths would set the Rebels back by months and be a massive hit to morale. Still, there had been one target Lambda had been working tirelessly to eliminate that was not part of the main rebellion, one that had proven time and time again to be a worthy adversary.

Captain Bufo.

Though he doubted the fearsome captain even knew of his existence, the dark prince and the toad had been playing a deadly game of cat and mouse ever since Lambda had been activated. It had been his first assignment, one handed to him directly by his father the Dark King. He’d harried the toad’s forces, tried to corner him, but ever he slipped from his grasp or defeated whatever force was sent against him.

Yet now it seemed all had been for nought. All that effort, all that time invested, and now Beta of all people was about to snatch away the glory of neutralizing the greatest thorn in the Empire’s side short of the three girls. Not only that, but the land east of Ribbitvale was his, an area that had long been denied to Neo-Imperial forces by Bufo’s guerillas, preventing them from effectively maneuvering against the Wartwood Rebellion which lay somewhere in the southeast.

His digits tapped the table with increasing speed, “Something doesn’t add up, Beta never travelled out east, nor did he send a delegation that way. How, in father’s name, did he manage to secure a peace deal with someone he’s never met or dealt with in his slimy life?”

Alpha’s fingers tapped her chin, mocking a gesture of being in deep contemplation, “are you accusing our brother of acting in an underhanded manner?”

“Beta? Being a sneaky bastard? What a concept!” The sounds of heavy footsteps announced the arrival of Gamma long before he spoke, “And here I thought you two were smart.” The Imperial Champion threw a bag onto the table, landing it squarely between the holographic representation of Newtopia and West Toad Tower. It hit the metal table with a sickening squelch. Crossing his arms Gamma nodded towards Lambda, “he was right where you said he’d be, scrawny twerp didn’t put up much of a fight.”

Alpha didn’t have a nose or any organic feature to speak of, but in that moment, as she gazed upon the sack leaking a dark red fluid across her pristine strategy board one would have sworn she turned her nose up in disgust.

Lambda glanced at the sack, still drumming his fingers, “Meridoc the minstrel I presume?”

Gamma nodded, “won’t be singing any more traitor songs I’d wager. This is the last time I fight a musician though, understood? Send a cloak-bot next time and give me a task worthy of my attention.” He was a monstrous beast of a frobot, standing almost two heads taller than any of his siblings who already stood well above the height of a grown man. His chassis was thick and heavily armoured, built with powerful servos that made him a match for even Prince Andrias’ great strength. Whereas his other siblings went out of their way to keep their plate spotless and elegant, Gamma’s seemed like it had never even seen a washcloth. Mud, blood, and similar refuse stained his exterior which itself was marred and scarred with the wear and tear of battle, each bit of damage a trophy the brutish dark prince treasured greatly.

Lambda shrugged, “Would that I could, but it seems the list grows shorter by the day, especially if Beta’s scheme falls through.”

Immediately Gamma’s grip tightened, causing his bicep plate to creak slightly under the immense pressure of his iron grip. When he spoke, his voice was laced with barely controlled rage, “he didn’t get Grime, did he?”

Lambda shook his head, “no, Bufo.”

Immediately Gamma relaxed, “Oh, well that’s alright then.”

“I doubt even Beta’s foolish enough to tackle Grime before you get a crack at him, brother.” Alpha had picked up a roll of parchment and was gingerly sliding the grizzly sack onto it so that blood did not spread further, “you’ve made your stance on the matter quite clear.”

If Gamma noticed the discomfort he had caused Alpha, he didn’t show it, “So, how did the slimy bastard get the Antelion of East Tower?”

“Diplomacy, it would seem.”

Gamma’s shoulders sagged, “Argh, of course. What a letdown.”

Satisfied the spill had been contained Alpha leaned back in her chair, “though it would seem our Inquisitor suspects not everything is as it seems.”

“I’ve studied Bufo, I know him. This is a trap; it must be.”

“Father seems to disagree.”

Lambda leaned forward, “Father is preoccupied with greater schemes and probably doesn’t care if Beta gets shanked in some backwater town far from the capital.”

Gamma gave a snort of laughter, “So what do you care then, let Beta go and get turned into scrap by Bufo. Sounds like a win-win.”

Now it was Alpha’s turn to lean forward, “unless… you’re afraid Beta’s right.”

“There’s always margin for error.” Lambda crossed his arms, “as remote as the possibility might be, Bufo was known to have fled the field first out of any of the toad hosts. It's not unreasonable that he could have been holding out for favourable terms…”

“Well then, what are you going to do?”

Lambda was silent, fingers still drumming on the table.

“You could just go with Beta. If Bufo acts up like you think he will cut him down.”

Lambda looked up at his towering brother, placing his hand on his jaw in contemplation.

Alpha shrugged, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

Lambda was drawn into his thoughts as he contemplated Gamma’s suggestion. He had been working for months to get inside East Tower, and now Beta was about to waltz straight in. He could easily tag along. Frame it as security to Beta. Between himself and a couple dozen cloak-bots, even an entire toad army wouldn’t pose much threat. Once they were inside, he could seal the doors and deal with them at his leisure. Alpha was right, Beta had handed Bufo to him on a silver platter.

Grime gazed up at the ramparts of Eart Tower and scowled. He’d only been to Bufo’s domain once in his life previously, many years ago for a feast under the former captain of the tower. He had not expected to be greeted with the same festive scenery but perhaps, given all that had changed of late, that was for the best. He wasn’t sure if he’d truly enjoy frog bowling these days, much less the even more cruel pastimes of the toad army he and his gang of mates would have stayed up all night for.

He sighed wistfully, simpler days. Not better, at least in terms of company, but definitely simpler.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a gruff voice, “Something caught in your throat?”

Grime glared with his one good eye at his older sister, “I’m fine.”

“Didn’t ask if you were.” Beatrix snorted, “Just wanted to know why you’re oohing and aahing at the gates of Bufo’s den.”

“Just drinking in the nostalgia, this might be the last toad tower left standing.” The two captains stood in silence, gazing up at the massive stone structure. Few would describe it as beautiful, but its rugged ugly spoke to the toad heart in ways other species simply couldn’t understand.

“You always had a talent for dimming the mood Grimothy.” Beatrix cocked her head to the side, “I tell you, if those scum have thrown so much as a brick from my lovely tower I’ll have their guts for garters!” she paused and closed her eye, “Ah, West Tower, now that’s a proper home for a toad.”

Grime snorted, “as if it could hold a candle to South Tower.”

Cracking the lid of her right eye open Beatrix gave her little brother a venomous look. She opened her mouth but then shut it again. Pursing her lips she at last spoke, “We promised the girls we wouldn’t fight.”

Sighing deeply Grime bowed his head in shame, “Yeah… may bad. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no. I’m sorry for bragging about towers, I know it’s a sore spot.”

“No. I’m sorry for bringing up towers in the first place.”

Beatrix's lip twisted, “We’re in front of a tower you clod, it would have come up anyways!”

Grime took a step closer so that they were now nose to nose, “not necessarily!”

Beatrix shoved him, “Oh, what were you going to talk about then? The weather?”

Grime shoved her back, “Maybe!”

Within seconds the two siblings were rolling around in the dirt before the gate of the tower, biting, kicking, and pawing at each other’s faces as they tried to hammer their apology through to the other. Locked deep in combat, they were oblivious to the sounds of the tower gate as it slid open until their brawl sent them tumbling into the legs of Incilius.

The toad lieutenant glared down at the two toads, annoyance written plainly on his features, “Good evening.”

As they were led through the innards of the tower Grime could hardly believe his eye. Quickening his pace, he came beside Incilius and whispered hoarsely into his ear, “Where’d all this come from?”

The toads of East Tower were armed to the teeth, not with spear and bow, but with weapons of sophistication that exceeded that of even most frobots Grime had encountered. They carried energy rifles, shoulder-mounted artillery, energy shield projectors, and all manner of laser melee weapons. Their armour too seemed to be repurposed from the chassis of frobots, sharing the same smooth and rounded plate that distinguished ancient Newtopian tech.

“We found it.” Incilius didn’t so much as turn his head to Grime as he delivered the curt response.

Sensing he wouldn’t be getting any further answers at this time Grime fell back to Beatrix who was similarly amazed at their surrounding. He grumbled under his breath to her, “How come we never found a cache like this?”

Keeping her voice low Beatrix muttered out of the corner of her mouth, “I think I remember Marcy saying the depots closer to the capital had newer equipment. Bufo must have struck deeper into Neo-Imperial territory than our reports indicated.” Grime nodded, it was a plausible explanation, Bufo was nothing if not aggressive. Still, it didn’t sit right with him, something fishy was afoot.

Though the strength of Bufo’s host had been greatly depleted since the start of the war it was clear that those who had made it thus far remained a force to be reckoned with. They were the true brutes of the former toad army, vandals and pillagers who had flocked to Bufo’s banner for the promise of a return to the old days of toad rule. Grime recognized most of them, mainly remnants from the North and East Tower garrisons, but among them were a number of toads who had deserted the West and South Tower forces back in the days of the Wartwood Resistance. Unable to accept frogs and newts as their equal they’d turned their backs on Grime and Beatrix, setting off to find their own fortunes in the war. Seemed they’d found like minds after all.

None of them met his gaze, turning away from his as his eye passed over them, contempt and disgust plain on their faces. Grime had half hoped the horrors unleashed by the Dark King would have softened their humours, but if anything, they appeared even more jaded than before. A pity, but not such a pity that Grime would lose sleep over their choice, the loss of a handful of pig-headed brutes was a small price to pay for the rebels’ coalition.

Incilius suddenly came to a halt. Turning he held out his hand, “I cannot allow you before my captain so armed. You will leave your weapons with the guards.” They were stood before the throne room entrance, the way blocked by two massive oaken doors carved with fantastical depictions of myth from the tales of the eastern toads.

Grime glanced between the two guards who had strode up behind them, then turning his attention back to Incilius he gave an incredulous chuckle, “You can’t be serious.”

The lieutenant’s face remained stone cold, not even so much as blinking the face of Grime’s words, “This is wartime, precautions must be taken.”

“If you think for a moment, that I’m handing over my warhammer for one of your addlebrained whelps to steal…” Grime’s voice dropped to a growl, and he bared his teeth, “…you’re a bigger fool than any I have yet met, Incilius.”

Beatrix’s hands crept slowly towards the hilt of the two axes fastened at her waist, “what kind of toad meets his fellow unarmed? Do you have no respect for your people’s customs?”

One of the guards spat at Beatrix’s feet, “Do not speak to me of customs frog lover!”

In a flash Beatrix had her axes pressed against his throat, their edges tucked neatly between the gorget of his breastplate and bottom of his helmet. A thin line of blood trickled down their edge as they nicked the guard’s throat, “You shouldn’t speak so lowly of our smaller cousins, friend. I know many a frog that could make you cry aloud for your mommy.”

“Enough!” there was a tremendous boom as Grime brought the end of his hammer down upon the stone floor tiles. The force of the impact left a minute crater and caused the thin layer of dust on nearby furniture to jump airborne. He gazed furiously at Incilius, “You may not like it, but we are comrades in arms lieutenant. Bufo has nothing to fear from us for we came here without guard or army to speak honestly with your lord and master. Now, you will stop with the theatrics or toad blood will be upon your hands!”

Incilius was silent for a moment, then with a curt nod, he dismissed the two guards. Extricating himself from Beatrix’s grip, the guard who had spat grumbled under his breath as he wiped at the wound on his neck. With the situation diffused for now, Incilius leaned in close and hissed into Grime’s ear, “I do this out of my loyalty to Captain Aldo and the respect he had for you Grime, but that respect has its limits, and you would be wise not to test them.”

“If that were true, you would respect his choice of leader.”

“Knowing how things turned out, I do not think he would have made the same choice.”

A snort from Beatrix broke up the exchange, “Would you two can it? We’re not here to gossip.”

Stepping back Incilius and Grime exchanged one final glare before the lieutenant turned and placed his hands on the great doors, “Follow me.” With a heave, they were flung wide, and the three toads strode into the throne room in grim silence.

Sitting upon his throne, much as he had done almost a year earlier as he treated with a young man from a faraway land, Bufo glared down at Grime and Beatrix. The ritual scar pattern on his face gave him a grim aspect, while the modified frobot-esque plate, done up in the style of eastern toad armour, supplemented the bulk he had lost to a lean frontier diet, making him no less imposing despite the gauntness of his features. His eyes narrowed as they came to rest upon the weapon in Grime’s hand, “I believe I gave orders for our guests to be disarmed before they came before me.”

Before Incilius could speak Grime strode forward, raising his voice so that I carried across the room, “What kind of toad fears his guests? Does my presence make you quake in your boots so that I need to be declawed and defanged to set you at ease?”

Bufo rose out of his throne and descended towards Grime, his face stormy and eyes hard. They approached one another in silence until they stood almost toe to toe in the middle of the throne room. As the tension seemed to approach a breaking point Bufo’s face suddenly broke into a grin. With a roar of laughter, he threw an arm about Grime’s shoulder and clapped him on the back, “Fire still burns in the heart of the coliseum’s champion! Good!”

Returning the gesture Grime snorted as they walked as a pair back towards the throne, “I do not appreciate tests Bufo, Beatrix almost took the head of one of your warriors.”

Turning his head Bufo winked at Beatrix, “I’m sure he deserved it. Now, what brings the Captains of the West and South to my halls?”

As they made their way out of the throne room to more hospitable accommodations, Grime could not help but notice as Incilius took a message from a sentry. His eye narrowed, too far from the conversation to hear the exchange but his eye caught the movement of their lips. Being no expert in the craft he discerned little beyond one word that seemed to be causing both toads a great deal of anxiety.

Ambassador.

The three captains sat on cushions filled with the down of baby herons, Grime let Beatrix do most of the talking, still mulling the implications of the conversation he had witnessed in the throne room.

Ambassador. It was a distinguished title, one that carried with it a professional air. Only one faction in this war would have institutions such as ambassadors and yet Neo-Newtopian doctrine began and ended with violence. Diplomacy, especially beyond the border of the city, was unheard of even before the Dark King assumed power. Yet who else had ambassadors?

Bufo listened intently but silently, his face betraying little of his thoughts as Beatrix lay down the Rebel’s petition.

“So, in summary, access through your territory is essential to the success of our rebellion. Without the ships off your coast, we’ll never be able to effectively compete with the imperials on an even footing. We’re not asking for permanent basing rights, just a temporary outpost to retrieve the vessels and then we’ll be out of your hair.” She glanced over at Grime, “Did I miss anything?”

Before Grime could chime in Bufo spoke up, “I can see why these ships are valuable, but let me ask you this: why shouldn’t I take them for myself? I face the same enemy you do, and the firepower of a fleet as you described would greatly strengthen my position. I appreciate that you told me plainly why you desired access to my land, but why should I let you plunder treasures that by all appearances, belong to me?”

“Do you know how to fly a starship?” Grime leaned forward, sensing an opportunity to gather information. He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrow at Bufo, watching him for his response, “I see your warriors have taken to the enemies’ weapons fast enough, but piloting a flying machine is a whole other beast.”

Bufo scowled for a moment then sighed, “I take your point, my toads couldn’t be made into sailors, much less pilots. Fine, I can see why the ships are useless to me. Still, I’d like compensation.”

Beatrix shrugged, “any arms we find down there are yours, simple enough?”

Bufo shook his head, “I have enough weapons for twice the number of toads at my command, not good enough.”

“Food.” Grime smiled slyly as he saw Bufo’s mouth twitch, “I’m sure rations are quite lean out here, especially since all the frogs pulled up stakes and joined our little band. I tell you, I don’t know how those frogs do it, they could turn swamp grass into a banquet.”

Were you going to serve the ambassador gruel Bufo?

Bufo coughed, “Yes, I’ve had to tighten the old belt by a few notches…

The hunger that shone in Bufo's eyes, though he remained posed as if in contemplation, then told Grime all he needed to know about his suspicions. Bufo was not a gluttonous beast, though he enjoyed a hearty meal as much as the next toad, he had never been one to let his stomach rule his mind.

Grime doubled down, “hell, I’ll throw in some fine drink too for those spare weapons of yours.” Oh so gently, Grime leaned upon Barrel’s Warhammer, shifting his grip upon the ancient weapon’s haft.

Bufo blinked, “Yes… drink would… it would do the troops some good. Nothing keeps the morale up like a fine wine or keg of ale.”

“So true. So true.” Grime shifted his feet, positioning them beneath his center of mass, “but it's got its other uses. After all, what host would let his guests go thirsty.” A puzzled look crossed Bufo’s face as Grime continued, “I mean, could you imagine treating an ambassador with tap water? Diplomatic suicide!”

Recognition dawned in Bufo’s eyes, his hands began to extend outward, “Grime wait-”

Every toad in that room was an experienced warrior, indeed between the three of them the number of warriors who could claim superior skill could be counted on one hand (though to be fair, it would need to be a human hand). They were masters of the art of combat and war, having served for decades in some of the most hellish conditions to be found in all amphibia and had the scars to prove. Yet for all their consummate skill, neither Bufo nor Beatrix saw Grime swing his hammer.

It was over in a flash. One instant Bufo had been sitting comfortably atop a cushion, the next he was plastered into the floor, Barrel’s Warhammer planted squared in his breastplate. Such was the speed and ferocity of the blow that it had caved in the reinforced steel and driven the breath from the toad captain. As he lay there, pinned beneath the weight of the ancient weapon, Grime planted a heel on his shoulder, preventing him from reaching for the laser dagger that was fastened to his hip.

“Did you really think you could pull the wool over my eyes?” Grime ground down, causing Bufo to grunt in pain.

The East Tower captain gasped for air, barely managing to spit out a reply, “Well… you’ve… only… got… one…”

“Hilarious.” Grime bent down, his hot breath causing Bufo’s eyes to water, “I know deception when I see it Bufo. I’ve watched. Every. Single. Episode. Of Suspicion Island!” His lip curled, “so, what did the Dark King offer you? Weapons and territory for kissing his ring? Or was this whole affair a ruse so you could hand us over to his ‘ambassador’ when they arrive?”

“Not… Dark… King…”

Beatrix, who was now piecing together what Grime had deduced leered down at Bufo, “Don’t take us for fools Bufo. Who else could have given you all these fancy energy trinkets?”

“Anvil…”

Beatrix and Grime paused, exchanging a glance. Grime kicked the side of the hammer causing Bufo to squirm in pain, “you expect us to believe a fairy tale brought you all this? And that still doesn’t explain the ambassador!”

Though he was gasping for air Bufo glared up at his fellow toad captains, “Ambush…”

Beatrix shrugged, “what do you think?”

Grime grimaced, “If he shouts for help we’re though… but if he’s telling the truth…”

“It’s your hammer, you get final say, lil bro.”

Grime massaged the bridge of his nose, “and all the blame… fine. Hold his arms.”

With a grunt, Grime pried the hammer free, and Beatrix pulled Bufo to his feet. Holding the hammer casually over his shoulder, Grime glared into Bufo’s eyes, “The truth, all of it.”

Bufo took several deep breaths before nodding, “About a week ago I was contacted by someone who claimed they could provide me with weapons and armour to deal the damage I desired against the Newtopians. We struck a deal and true enough we were given a cache of weapons I believe were meant for the Newtopian Guard along with a prototype weapon of great power.”

“And who was this contact?”

“They identified themselves as Anvil.”

Grime was silent for a moment, chin in hand as he processed the information.

Bufo smiled weakly, gesturing to the hammer in Grime’s grip, “You know… as in the Hammer and-”

“I get the picture!” Grime snapped. He grimaced, “It couldn’t be him though…”

It was difficult for Bufo to shrug, bound as his hands were by Beatrix, nevertheless, he gave an approximation of one, “The list of people who could pull this off is short, and most of them have loyalty subroutines, I’m sure.”

Beatrix glanced between the two of them, “just to be clear, so we’re all on the same page. Andrias is Anvil, right?”

Bufo nodded, “The tales of Barrel the Hammer, and Prince Andrias the Anvil were one of my favourites that Aldo told.”

Grime shook his head, “I met Andrias. I fought him. He’s the one that blew up Aldo and North Tower! He’s been in command of the empire’s frobots since the beginning, why would he pick now of all times to switch sides.”

“Respectfully,” Bufo shook his head, “he reached out to me, not you. He’s not on your side. My guess is, he’s getting tired of playing second banana.”

Grime groaned, “so why in olms name did you trust him?”

“I don’t. He’s using me, I’m using him. It's business, nothing more.”

Beatrix sighed, “Alright, so Andrias gave you your weapons, you still haven’t explained the ambassador stuff.” She glared at Grime, “Neither have you really.”

Grime shrugged, “I saw Incilius chatting with a sentry about it, more of an educated guess than concrete evidence.”

“I didn’t hear anything, and I was right beside you!”

“I read his lips.”

She blinked in astonishment, “when’d you learn to do that?”

“You’d be surprised what you pick up by consuming media at the voracious rate I do,” Grime smirked smugly.

Bufo sighed, “I was just getting to the ambassador, but if you want me to tell you the truth on this one I need you to swear secrecy on what I tell you.”

Grime narrowed his eyes, “fine.”

“No, not ‘fine’.” Bufo’s features were dark and serious, “swear to me, on the hammer of our people, that you won’t tell a soul of what you learn here today. That means you can’t speak of this to that lieutenant of yours, Waybright, or either of her friends.”

“General Waybright will learn whatever she needs to be told.”

“Then we have nothing more to talk about.”

Beatrix and Grime exchanged a glance, wiggling their eyebrows at each other as they engaged in a silent argument. At last, after a particularly hard stare from Beatrix, Grime sighed, “Very well, upon my honour and upon this hammer I swear it. Your secrets are safe with me.”

Satisfied Bufo nodded to Beatrix who repeated Grime’s words. When she had finished, Bufo cleared his throat with a cough, “The ambassador is the dark prince Beta. He is coming today to nail down the details for a peace summit between myself and the Dark King, hosted at East Tower.”

Grime’s jaw dropped, “the Dark King… is coming here?”

Bufo nodded, “Anvil orchestrated the summit, with his help, I’ll be able to lead the Dark King into an ambush and finish this war in one swift stroke.”

Grime sat down, collapsing onto a cushion, “what about Cameron?”

Bufo shook his head, “Commander Waybright was already a casualty of this war. I’ll honour his sacrifice as best I can.”

Beatrix gazed at her younger brother, “it would end the war. Without the Dark King, the empire would fracture further, all the rebellion would need to do would be to swoop in a takeout Andrias. Anne’s more than capable of that…”

Grime looked up, “assuming you can, in fact, kill him.”

Bufo shrugged, “I’ve got enough firepower to level a small city inside these walls. If that can’t kill him, nothing you can muster can. I heard about the last fight between the Dark King and Sasha Waybright, she won’t survive another encounter.”

Griem thought back to the brief time he’d spent with Sasha’s older brother, the arguments they shared, but also the brief moments of camaraderie, like the bottle of wine the young man had smuggled to the Plantar’s dinner party. If Bufo succeeded, Sasha would never forgive him. On the other hand, he’d seen her injuries from their last fight, Bufo was right, she wouldn’t survive a second encounter.

At last, Grime glanced up at Bufo, “I won’t help you, but I won’t stop you either. Best to pretend this conversation never happened.”

Bufo nodded, “Fine by me. So, getting back to the original topic of conversation; food for my tower and ships for you?”

Seeing Grime was still in a bit of a sullen stupor Beatrix nodded, releasing Bufo from her grip, “We can agree to those terms.”

Bufo clapped his hands, “fantastic. Well, I won’t keep you, especially with a host of Imperial dropping by for a chat later today.”

As they made their way to the gates Grime was hunched over, head bowed in shame. Beatrix gave him a solid pat on the shoulder, “It’s the tactical thing to do.”

“But probably not the right thing to do…” Grime’s voice was sullen and quiet, barely above a whisper.

She winced, “Well… let's leave that to the history books.”

Grime glanced up at her, “what would you want to do?”

“Like I said, leave it to the history books- oh…” She bit her lip, “You mean… if it were me and you, not the humans, in this situation?”

Grime nodded, “would you want me to kill you?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

“Quite.”

They came to a halt before the main gates. Waiting patiently for the gate operator to slide them open. Beatrix gnawed on her lip, then she too hung her head, “It’s a bit different… I’m a soldier, I know Cameron served as our commander for a short time, but the kid didn’t sign up for this…”

“None of them did…”

They fell into silence once more. After a few minutes had passed Grime’s anxiety wore aware into frustration and he brought his hammer down against the gate, causing the whole structure to vibrate, “Oi! Get this damn thing open!”

“Apologies, they were under my orders to hold you up.” Incilius’ voice from behind caused the toad captains to turn.

“Well, you better have a good reason for this lieutenant. I-” Grime’s voice caught in his throat as he noticed the two toads following behind Incilius. A wry smile split his lips, “Percy?! Braddock?!”

Percy waved nervously, “H-hey captain, long time no see eh?”

Grime thumped the haft of his warhammer into the ground in excitement, “bit of an understatement! Where have you two been?”

Braddock shook her head in exasperation, “Where haven’t we been? We spent most of the last two months ducking frobot patrols, with more than a couple close calls! With the whole world seemingly gone to hell we didn’t know where to go. We got lucky when one of Bufo’s patrols picked us up, half-starved in the mountains west of here…”

Incilius grunted, “Yeah, and luckier still that the good captain here happened to drop by. I’m handing these two off to you Grime, we have no need for two lily-livered ramblers here.” With a shove he pushed the two toads forward toward Grime and Beatrix, “Best get a move on, my scouts have spotted an imperial vessel approaching from the west.”

Grime nodded grimly, “Right, come with me you two, Sasha’s going to be over the moon to see you again.” As he turned a pained expression flicked across his face for only a moment.

Though I doubt it’ll make up for getting her big brother killed…

Cameron gazed frantically between the spear in his hand and the portal shining before him. This situation wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to him, after all, he’d been thrown through the ringers of Valerianna’s trickery that one time, but this… there was something different about this, something more tangible.

For one he was made of meat and bone, not starlight, and secondly, he was holding the antithesis to the calamity stones in his hand. The power of the black spear coursed through the veins in his arm, running up its length and into his chest. His whole right arm felt cold, frozen stiff, and burning as though he’d plunged it into a pool of boiling water.

He staggered but caught himself by leaning his weight on the spear, gasping in pain as his weight settled upon his shoulder.

On the other side of the portal the Dark King was fuming, both in a metaphorical and quite literal sense. Wisps of black smoke rose from his armour, surrounding his figure in a dark cloud, and the grimace of rage painted on his face was terrible. He beat his fist upon the portal, the impact sounding a dull thump that rang about the dimly lit void Cameron now found himself in.

As his mind adjusted to the discomfort of the spear the pieces of what was going on fell into place within Cameron’s mind. The Guardian had thrown the Dark King back into Amphibia and then effectively locked the behind him, separating the would-be god from his greatest weapon, the spear.
The question was, how had he locked it?
Cameron’s heart skipped a beat, and a slow smile spread across the Dark King’s features, they had both deduced the ruse.

“Clever…” The Dark King’s voice, his voice, Cameron’s voice, was sickly sweet but laced with an edge of rage that was still noticeable even as he cooed, “the boy or the spear… very clever cat…”

Nothing could be in two different places at once. The laws of reality might make some allowances at certain scales but not the macroscopic. Cameron felt sick to his stomach.

“Yes… you figured it out too, haven’t you…” The Dark King leaned against the portal, peering in at Cameron like a malicious child might a creature in a zoo, “You’re a copy… an imitation. A cheap duplicate taking up space in that universe’s filing cabinet so that I might not squeeze past… quite the elegant solution, however…” he chuckled, cold and cruel, without a hint of true merriment, “I think I can have my cake and eat it too…” he tapped the side of his nose, “a fitting axiom given your predicament, wouldn’t you agree, my soulless friend? Or did the cat god leave a fully stocked parlour behind one of those stars?”

Cameron clutched at his chest; his heart felt like it would burst through his chest. Breath coming in ragged gasps as the existential dread closed in on him, Cameron glanced up at the Dark King, “I…” he stopped, not even sure of what he was going to say. What could he say?

“This is an annoying setback, I’ll admit” the Dark King continued, “but I waited a thousand years for the gems to return, I can wait… hmmm… three days? That’s about how long humans can live without drink yes?” he laughed again, “hell, why don’t I just leave you here for a year? A decade? Let your bones bleach in the light of the void. I have no rivals, not anymore, I could wait until you blow away as dust to retrieve my prize.” Leaning back from the portal he tilted his head and leered at Cameron, “and that’s exactly what I think I’ll do. Let’s give your sister and her friends a sporting chance. Well… not exactly a sporting chance, or any kind of chance really, but let’s let them think that’s the case.”

Finally getting his breathing under control, Cameron glared out at the Dark King, “You won’t beat them. You won’t break them.”

The Dark King tapped his cheek, “unfortunately for you, you’ll never find out. Goodbye, forever.”

As the portal closed, dimming what little light had remained in the dead void the Dark King’s laughter rang about the empty universe, its echo persisting long after the last spec of light had vanished.

Chapter Text

He didn’t remember when the wind had first blown in, but now that it had, it was impossible to ignore. It battered and bit at his face, turning the flesh pale a numb even as he sheltered it behind his one free hand. There was snow now too, laying on whatever surfaced passed for ground in this land in deep drifts reaching hallway up to his knees. Like hands reaching up from below it pulled at him, turning each step forward into a battle.

Forward. What lay forward that he was fighting with all his might to reach? If what lay behind him was anything to go by, there was nothing. Just an empty cold waste.

He hadn’t seen the realm change around him. One moment he had been languishing in a dark void, the next he’d felt the crunch of snow beneath his metal boot. It was as if the colour palette of the realm had inverted, the dark void left in the Dark King’s wake had been replaced with a white backdrop of snow.

He wondered if this was a byproduct of the Guardian’s death, like a ship drifting aimlessly as the captain’s hand slipped from the tiller the realm was shifting at random. Or perhaps it was metaphorically closer to a garden, growing wild and chaotic without constant supervision.

It mattered little. Between the empty void and snow-swept hellscape, both were cold, both were dead, and both choked his vision beyond the reach of his hand. Save for the spear.

The spear had stood out in both mediums, darker somehow than the pitch-black void and now burning its black outline through the blizzard as some kind of dark mockery of torchlight. He was almost grateful for the sense of existence it gave him, a visual indication that he was indeed in a physical space. This comfort, however, was overshadowed by the pain of the spear’s power coursing through his arm, freezing his fingers about its haft, and it kept his opinions towards the object, fittingly, frosty.

A chuckle caused his lips to crack into a grin for just the briefest of moments. He still had his sense of humour at least.

No, not his sense of humour, Cameron’s.

He paused for a moment, leaning on the spear for support as he caught his breath. The chuckle rose again in his chest. It was wild and crazed, building in volume until it burst forth from his lips as something between a whimper and a howl.

“Hehehehehehehe!”

He threw back his head, letting the wind lift his curly blonde locks so that they flapped against his face. His eyes were wide, staring madly into the empty sky above. He ran his fingers through his hair, then paused, gripping the mop of blonde hair tightly.

“What’s the point?”

His voice was trembling and psychotic, barely above a whisper yet it rang out clear despite the torrent into which he cried.

“There’s nothing out here! There’s nowhere to go!” his voice became strained, barely holding back the terror that was building within him, “T-There’s no one out here!”

His head sunk, chin coming to rest against his chest, “there’s no one out here… not even me… not the real me… just a…” he put his head in his hands, “just a fucking copy.”

How long had he been walking for? Hours? Days? Weeks? Probably one of the former two but with how messed up space was in this place who knew how time flowed?

No. No, there was definitely a way to tell the time. He could feel it, the building headache, the sandpaper feeling in his throat. The sharps pangs that assaulted his insides now that the adrenaline of shock was wearing off.

Three days, that’s how long he’d live. He’d tried eating the snow, but it dissolved into nothing, not even liquid in his mouth. It was a construct, just like everything else in this realm. Just like he was.

He sank to his knees. He couldn’t tell if he was crying, the wind would rip any tears he had away the moment they formed, “I… I don’t want to die…” he closed his eyes and whimpered, hugging his arms about himself as best he could with the spear still frozen in his right one.

A droplet rolled down his cheek. He reached up to wipe it away but paused. The wind was gone. Just as quickly as it had appeared he no longer felt the sting of the elements upon his skin.

He didn’t open his eyes right away, preferring instead to bask in this brief moment of relief and peace. The air was still cold, and the snow underfoot still crunched as he stood so the climate hadn’t changed this time at least. He shuddered, still buckling under the weight of seemingly inescapable doom, and kept his eyes shut.

Minutes passed, and still he didn’t open his eyes, fearful of what new hell he’d been delivered to, until at last the dark cast by his eyelids over his vision caused his thoughts to stray once more to the eternal sleep of death. With a yelp, he sprung up and his eyes flashed open, taking in his new surroundings as he clung to what little life was afforded to him.

What greeted his frantic eyes were the snow-covered peaks of mountains, stretching out as far as his eyes could see. The endless white proceeded by black, had now become a grey vista with the granite teeth of the mountains biting up into a low-hanging bank of grey clouds that obscured his view of any sky that might reside behind them.
He was atop one of the peaks, or at least part way up one, settled in a neat alcove that provided a crude shelter from the elements as gales danced between the peaks in a playful manner. No vegetation grew on the slopes, and he sighted no signs of animal life, everything was still cold and dead, no different from before.

Settling down so that his back was rested against the rock. The existential dread had faded, temporarily of course. It would be back, slinking from the back of his mind like a predatory beast from the woods, ready to tear at what little sanity he still clung to, but for now, he was at peace.

He listened to the sounds of the mountains, allowing the dull whistle of wind snaking between the peaks to quiet his mind and slow the rapid pounding of his heart in his chest. His eyes traced the jagged horizon, drinking in the majesty of the false land. It was indeed a beautiful vista. Though devoid of life, the sheer scale of the mountain range was a sight to behold, reminiscent of illustrations he’d seen in science fiction works that depicted barren alien worlds. There was a mystery about this place, one that, given his own quite limited future, he was unlikely to ever discern or even investigate to any true extent.

Or anyone else for that matter.

It struck him that he was the first to see this place, or at the very least the first human. Discovery of the truly new was a fascinating thing he thought, and an exceedingly rare phenomenon for a human to experience. He could now count himself among the ranks of the first people to cross out of Africa or across the land bridge to the Americas, and just like them he too would remain nameless and unrecorded in history. It was a small comfort, but it was still comfort.

This place must be some final gift, a twist of kindness given to him by the realm so that he might spend what little time he had left sheltered from the cruel bite of the multiverse. He’d have much rather received a cold glass of water, condensation turning the exterior cloudy, its flavour crisp and refreshing… His tongue passed over his dry, cracked, lips and the feeling of dryness in his mouth began to itch. With a grunt of despair, he shook his head, desperately trying to find some other thing to distract his mind from the needs of his body. Names, he should give them to the peaks, maybe even write them down the rock. If he left some mark maybe in far off age people would reach this place and read them. So that, by proxy, he could be remembered.

He gripped the spear in two hands and in the rock in front of him he drew a sketch of the mountain line as they appeared to him. The black tip of the spear cut the rock like butter, hewing deep into the surface. Satisfied with his artwork he brought his hand up to his mouth and pondered what to call them.

Cameron was an obvious choice, but one that he did not wish to dwell upon. Cameron had not been here, he had. This of course led to the next problem, what was he called? There were several options of course.

He could just refer to himself as Cameron, or Cameron the Second should he wish for a grander title but no. The second implied a line of succession, a continuance. Cameron, the real Cameron, still lived, so that felt inappropriate. Also, he felt that referring to himself as such would diminish the original to some degree, better to establish his own separate identity and avoid confusion.

The other alternative was to choose his own name, either a totally invented moniker or something derived from his previous life. An original name would definitely separate him from Cameron, but was that something he truly wanted? They shared memories, and though his were false they nonetheless felt incredibly real to him. Did he really want to leave all of it behind? Not really…

He snapped his fingers, of course, there was a simple solution here. What was the point of a middle name if not to supplement the first? He pursed his lips, “Andrew Waybright…” he let it roll around his lips, muttering the name as he felt it out, “Andrew… Drew… Andy…” There were plenty of options for modification of it too. Andrew nodded, satisfied with his choice.

Turning his attention back to the sketch in the stone, he carved his new name beneath it.

The Andrew Mountains.

He giggled as he studied the inscription, “suck on that, Columbus.”

“Why, what’d he ever do to you?”

Andrew shrugged, still staring down at his handiwork, “Nothing to me, but he was kinda a murdering, slaving, raping, piece of shit.”

“Oh… I had no idea.”

Andrew prodded the spear into the rock, correcting the shape of the letters, “Yeah, and like, he wasn’t even the first European in America. The Vikings got to Newfoundland in the eleventh century and even started a settlement there. Mom was going to take me and Sash there one of these days…” he paused swallowing hard, “Well, she was going to take Cameron and Sasha… I don’t think I’d be able to tag along now…”

“And why not? You don’t think they’d let you?”

Andrew froze, “Wait… you’re not in my head…are you?”

“Why would I be in your head? I guess I could go in there if it would make you feel better…”

“No… no, I mean… you’re not a hallucination?” Andrew glanced around but the mountain slope about him was empty.

“Ohhhhh, I get it. You’re three-dimensional, my bad. One sec.”

“What do you…” Andrew gripped the spear tightly, “show yourself!”

“Donezo.”

Light exploded around Andrew as something popped into existence behind him. Blue, red, and green light combined in a nimbus that illuminated the speaks of the Andrew Mountain range for miles, burning away the cloud cover to reveal a smattering of stars in the sky above. He turned, and instantly regretted it.

The voice was warm and cheerful, full of the energy and exuberance that a child might when meeting a new friend, “Sup mortal, I’m the Guardian of the Cosmos.” It hung before Andrew in the air, hyper-spherical and just as radiant as before, “Mind if I hang out for a bit? I don’t get visitors often…”

Andrew would have returned the greeting and would have otherwise been glad to have company in this dismal realm.

He was rather preoccupied, however, clutching the sides of his head as he was.

Screaming in pain.

Chapter Text

So well hidden was the rebel base that Percy and Braddock didn’t realize at first that they’d even arrived. One minute they were soaring between trees, weaving between branches as Grime and Beatrix made to keep a low profile to avoid imperial scouting drones, the next they were flying over the heads of hundreds of amphibians. Peering over the side of the kill-a-moth, Percy gazed down in awe as toads, frogs, newts, and even the odd olm, scurried about on the forest floor, ducking between well-camouflaged dens as they carried supplies and messages about for their fellow rebels.

He brushed the dangling end of his jester hat aside, its bright hew long faded from exposure to the elements and rough living in the northlands, wonder written across his features, “This… is incredible! I’ve never seen an army this large. How? Where did they all come from?”

Griem grunted as he gave a tug to their mount’s harness, causing the fearsome beast to slow and begin its descent to the camp below, where a strip of dirt had been cleared out for take-offs and landings. Around the perimeter of the rudimentary airstrip were the pens and shelters for the rebellion’s kill-a-moth fleet, most snoozing in the midafternoon heat, while others were in the process of being harnessed or de-harnessed as the steady stream of airborne scouts flowed in and out of the base. The toad captain didn’t take his eyes off the reigns, but called over his shoulder to the younger toad, “There’s still more in the underground sections of the base. Don’t let the numbers fool you Percy, a decent number aren’t fit for combat. Sasha’s broadcast sent a lot of warriors our way, but so too did we get a flood of refugees fleeing imperial occupation. We’ve probably got thirty times the number of members in the rebellion than we did when we were just the resistance, but half of them are either too old, too young, too sick, or too injured to fight.”

They touched down with a jolt. The kill-a-moth wriggled beneath them, kicking up a cloud of dirt as it shook off the stress of a long flight. Griem grimaced and coughed, “wouldn’t matter if they were all fit anyhow. We can’t win at numbers against the Dark King, ‘losing strategy’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. We’ll win by playing to our strengths… speaking of which…” He raised his hand and waved over to two approaching figures, “looking a bit brighter eyed Boonchuy!”

Anne and Sasha marched across the airstrip, decked out in the war gear, which Grime noticed had undergone some slight changes of late. Anne’s alterations were minor, consisting mainly of repairs to her existing kit. She was, however, now sporting a set of gauntlets made from a similar metal to that of her breastplate. The knuckles of the gauntlets were built up, looking almost like brass knuckles and were connected along the back of her hand to a built-in brace that provided the young girl with wrist support whenever she decided to deck a robot with the force of an artillery shell.

Sasha, on the other hand, was practically unrecognizable. Unlike her previous set of armour that echoed her former toad army gear, she was now clad in what was, to Grime's eyes at least, plate from downed Neo-Newtopian fleet ships. Reforged and repainted, the armour cut a striking figure. It was formfitting and sharp in a brutally practical way, and it didn’t take Grime long to notice each plate was positioned deliberately, each in response to a wound suffered, or mistake made. The skin of her arms was no longer exposed, covered by flexible scale mail. The fur cloak about her shoulders was shorter, unable to be used against her by her foes. Under her arm was a helmet, its heron-beaked design shaped to direct blows away from her eyes. She had ditched the barbarian princess look, now she was a general and a queen of battle.

Anne smirked at Grime’s remark, “Sasha and Marcy said to rest up, so here I am, rested. Probably could have gotten by with a couple bugachinos though really…”

Sasha elbowed Anne in the side, a cheeky grin on her face, “This is why Marcy and I are the brains of this operation Boonchuy.” She turned to Grime shaking her head, “Not that Marcy’s much better. Do you know I found out she pulled another all-nighter last night? I swear I’m going to have to tie her to her bed…”

Grime chuckled, “Cute… but let’s get down to business. I’ve good news and better news.”

Anne clapped her hands together, “Bufo gave us the go-ahead?”

“Yep, all he wants in return is a shipment of food. His numbers a pretty low, I figured we could spare something from the commissary.”

Sasha nodded, “I’m sure Stumpy can sort something out. I hope Bufo likes Wartwood-Thai fusion…” She paused and raised an eyebrow, “what’s the better news?”

As he locked eyes with Sasha a pang of guilt twisted in Grime’s stomach. It was probably too late to tell her. Bufo’s plan would already be in motion, with the food arriving a mere day before the Dark King’s visit. He could tell her, get it off his chest, say it was all Bufo’s doing, which up until now would be true. He swallowed hard, this was the crossroads, his last and only chance to clear his conscience and come clean to her.

Sasha crossed her arms, “you did say ‘better’ news, right? Cuz, you look really nervous, Grime…”

The toad captain coughed and then grinned with mock enthusiasm, “Well… it’s a little awkward given how we left things off but… look who I found over at Bufo’s!”

Realizing his queue had arrived, Percy popped his head over the side of the kill-a-moth’s back which he had been obscured on since he arrived, “uh… hey.”

Sasha’s eyes went wide, her suspicion towards Grime instantly forgotten, “Percy!”

“I’m here too!” Braddock hopped around the side of her and Beatrix’s mount, having landed a little behind Grime’s.

Sasha’s gauntleted hand was up by her mouth, “I’m so glad you’re both safe. I…” Sasha sucked in a breath, her voice wavered slightly, “I owe you guys a deep, deep apology. I didn’t mean to… That is… I was just so absorbed in…”

Percy and Braddock exchanged awkward glances. Then Braddock stepped forward, “Look, we’ve heard a lot about you since we parted ways. Some of it bad…” she paused and smiled meekly, “…but most of it good. The point is, uh…”

There was silence as the three former friends shuffled awkwardly, unsure of what to say. At last, the pressure became too much for Percy, “we want to help! I don’t know if you’re really a changed person now Sasha, but there are people so, so, so much worse out there right now. So, if only for the sake of our world, we think we can give you a second chance.”

There was a slight wetness in Sasha’s eyes, but she was smiling, “Guys, I- You won’t regret this. I won’t let you down, again!”

They stood in awkward silence once more until Anne leaned in, “So… group hug?”

Sasha sniffed, “Only if it's okay with you two.”

“Well…” Braddock glanced at Percy, but the young toad beamed, “You know I can’t say no to a hug! Bring it in everyone!”

Grime made to slip away but Percy grabbed him by the back of his collar and swung him into the centre of the group, “You too cap’n”

As the five of them joined arms in an embrace Grime wriggled madly, “Too much! Too much! Beatrix! Help me!”

“You’re back early.”

Beta’s head snapped to the side as he searched for the source of the voice. Having thought himself alone in the winding halls of the castle, the dark prince who had been named Chancellor of the Empire, snarled like a concerned animal, “Show yourself!”

The voice emanated from behind his right shoulder, “I’m right here brother, didn’t you hear me approach?” Hand clutching the hilt of his laser dagger hidden beneath his robes, Beta whirled around, coming face to face with Lambda, his father’s inquisitor. Lambda cocked his head to the side, dead frobot eyes gazing into Beta’s, “Don’t bother with the dagger, I’d have struck already if I wanted you dead.”

Beta did not release the hilt, “what game are you playing at Lambda? Yes, yes, it’s very impressive that you can sneak up on me, bit of a cheat to use your cloaking device though, don’t you think?”

“Cloaking device?” there was an electronic rattle as Lambda imitated a dark chuckle, “perish the thought brother, you know Father doesn’t like us using them in the castle.”

“And for good reason.” Beta finally composed himself, “but you didn’t answer my first question.”

“Well, I would ask you the same in turn, but unlike you, I already know what you’re ‘playing at’.” Lambda leaned in close so that the two frobots’ face masks were only inches apart, “I should think it's rather plain what game I’m playing, and if you can’t figure it out, well… all the more reason for me to play it.”

Beta’s voice synthesizer hissed like a steam valve, “I don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, but you do.” Lambda’s head rolled back, and he sighed, “Very well, I guess since you’re too dense to pick up my meaning I’ll speak plainly. You’re hopelessly outmatched against Bufo.”

“Ah!” Beta laughed, “So that’s what this is about.”

Lambda’s head tilted back forward, “You ought to take this seriously brother.”

“Oh, I am.” Beta prodded Lambda in the chest piece, “and you ought to understand when you’ve lost. The east is mine brother, it’s done. A fait accompli. Let it go and busy yourself with one of the other rebel leaders, why not Hopediah Plantar? He seems much more your speed.”

Lambda didn’t rise to the taunts, flicking his brother’s digit aside, “You’re missing my point entirely, brother. I’m here to make sure your great success isn’t marred.”

“Maybe stick to deducing lies instead of telling them inquisitor.” Beta’s tone reeked of disdain.

“Cute. I know Bufo far better than you ever will brother, he’s a devious and cunning warrior, not afraid to fight dirty when back into a corner. You, on the other hand, are blinded by the opportunity before you.” He held up his hands, “You beat me to Bufo, I admit it. Congratulations are in order, but, you don’t have him yet and as a loyal servant of the throne it is my duty to ensure the operational integrity of our missions.”

Beta scoffed, “Frankly, brother. Snail shit.”

Lambda continued without acknowledging his brother’s comment, “You’re a talented diplomat brother, but your combat senses are a few updates short of optimal firmware. You didn’t hear me approach, you might have cleared father’s combat exam, but your scores are by far the lowest of our siblings. I apologize for speaking bluntly, but brother, you’re in danger.”

Beta was silent, his eyes flicked between Lambda, his weapons, the nearest doors and other possible avenues of escape.

Lambda shook his head, “I really am trying to help you, brother. Just hear me out.”

“Fine.” Beta’s voice was entirely void of the swagger it had held only moments ago, now it was shrill and irritable.

“Let me accompany you to East Tower. If all goes well as you expect then you can rub it in my face for the rest of eternity, but if Bufo is drawing you into a trap, I’ll deal with him and still credit you for getting us inside his keep. Either way, you come out with the glory brother.”

Beta was silent for a moment, the cost-benefit analysis of the deal running through his digital brain. At last, he shrugged, “Sure, done.”

Lambda nodded, “good.”

Deals always happened like this between the dark princes. Though neither trusted the other to entirely follow through on their end of the bargain, each counted on their scheme to come out on top. Indeed, the formation of a deal was the point where the true backstabbing began.

Silently the two princes made their way towards the throne room, each planning the other’s downfall.

It had been two days since Percy and Braddock had joined up with the rebellion and reunited with Sasha, however, any celebrations had needed to be postponed. There was work to do and, under the logistical genius of Marcy, the largest movement of supplies and personnel since the burning of Wartwood.

For her part, Marcy found the whole endeavour rather therapeutic and thoroughly enjoyable, an outlet she was in desperate need of. The young Taiwanese girl had found very little cause for joy of late. The scar on her chest, though quite reduced after the rejuvenation tank treatments, was a constant reminder of the horror she’d both unwittingly unleashed and suffered over the last year. She’d come to terms with much of it, but at night when she sat alone doubt and guilt ate at her.

She’d told Sasha and Anne that she was too caught up in her work to sleep. That was half true. She was extraordinarily busy, the task before her was monumental but one she relished. It all came together like a puzzle; fitting desperate, seemingly unrelated, pieces together so that they combined into a working model she’d then see play out before her eyes as rebels and gear were shifted between home base and the eastern shore. She was living out a strategy game in real-time, and uncovering ancient relics, were it not so exhausting she probably would be pulling all nights out of the joy alone.

But she wasn’t. In the past, she’d been pressed to ever take notice of the time of day. Marcy would need others, usually Anne, to remind her that it was time to move on to something else or to retire for the day. Now, though? She was ever cognizant of the lengthening shadows, and the dimming of the sky.

He was always there, in the darkness. The Dark King’s laughter, a twisted parody of the boy who’d thrown himself in harm's way for her, played in her mind as a cold breeze running down her neck. His words taunted her from the shadows. When she closed her eyes to block him out, she could see his grin, the flesh of Cameron’s face stretched to an unnatural limit, teeth glinting in the glowing orange light of his eyes.

Drowsiness too had become a source of terror. The fading of cognition hit much the same notes as the mind-shackle necklace the Dark King had foisted upon her, and in her irrational, sleep-deprived mind, Marcy couldn’t help but worry if she might wake up a prisoner in her own body again.

She sucked in a breath, feeling her heart beating like a drum in her chest. Reaching out shakily she grabbed the mug that sat next to her on the desk. She could already tell it was empty before the vessel even got close to her lips. The ceramic was cold to the touch and light, the warm brown liquid that had inhabited it thoroughly drained. Still, she brought it up for a sip, lips trembling as she tried to distract her wandering mind. She was exhausted now, having been up for over twenty hours.

She turned back to her work, diving suits. Polly had helped with them, the officious tadpole was a quick study when it came to engineering. Marcy was almost jealous. Eight suits had been prepared. One for each of the rebellion’s generals, colour coordinated of course. Grime and the Plantars would also receive a set, with Polly having incorporated Frobo into hers as a miniature submersible. The last two were reserved for Gary, specifically, Gary would be coming along on Jeremy, Horace, and another member of Gardenton, Norris.

A study of the designs on the captured data slate had revealed to Marcy that the bare minimum crew for the Hellbender class battleship which acted as the fleet hub was five. Though only she, Horrace and Norris would be somewhat trained in the ship's controls she figured that’d be enough to at least get the main ship airborne and call up the others with it.

Once they breached the surface the ships could be fully staffed with an assortment of amphibians drawn from Gardenton and some willing volunteers who had offered their services for Marcy’s new fleet.

The flap of the tent sliding open caused Marcy to jump with a start. The cold beach air blew past her, snuffing the candle that was providing her light as she worked. The tent was plunged into darkness, save only for the grim starlight that shone through the open flap, revealing the night sky that shone down upon the eastern seaboard.

Marcy could feel the panic beginning to rise once more. The wind moved the walls of the tent, giving the impression that things were moving in the dark all about her. A whisper, inaudible but carried by the hissing wind to her ears, reached out to Marcy like a claw from the shadows.

Do you really think you’re safe here?

“Time for lights out Mar-Mar!”

Anne squinted into the dark tent, barely picking out Marcy’s form as the starlight fell upon it. Sasha, who had been following up behind her snorted as she chuckled under her breath, “told you she’d still be up. Seriously Mar-Mar you can’t keep burning the candle at both ends.”

The two girls stepped into the tent letting the flap close behind them so that the wind ceased churning up the interior. Anne fumbled forward in the dark, “That’s right. Two-thirds of Rebel high command have voted in favour of you going straight to bed, that’s a majority so if you don’t obey it’ll be treason.” her hand fell upon Marcy’s shoulder. She froze, feeling the tremble in Marcy as she sat there in the dark, shivering, “Marcy?”

Sasha was at their side in a second, “Is everything alright? What’s wrong?”

“I’m just…” Marcy took a deep breath, doing her best to block out the creeping dread as it gnawed at her from the pitch blackness, “…yeah sleep sounds good.” Arms lifted her up, strong arms, wrapping her in an embrace. In an instant, Marcy was brought back in her mind’s eye to that moment in the castle after leaving the rejuvenation tank. At her lowest moment, terrified, injured, and in complete despair. She remembered the arms about her, holding her tightly yet gently, offering what little comfort he could on that dark day.

Marcy whimpered and buried her face in Sasha’s shoulder. The blonde girl wordlessly carried her over to the makeshift bed, a coarse threaded mattress stuffed with bits of down and soft grass that the rebellion’s quartermasters had scrounged together to make an approximation of bedding. She made to lay Marcy down on the mattress but paused.

Anne couldn’t make out Sasha or Marcy’s form in the dark but she drew closer as she heard Sasha hiss to her under her breath, “A little help, Anne?”

Reaching her two friends Anne quickly decided the source of Sasha’s predicament. Marcy, though not quite asleep was groggily hanging on to Sasha, her fingers wrapped tightly into Sasha’s fur shoulder cloak, effectively locking the two girls together.

As gently as possible Anne prised Marcy’s fingers loose, freeing Sasha to at last lay their friend down onto her bed. As they turned away to leave her to her rest Anne felt something grab her hand. Looking down she saw that Marcy had reached out and snagged her fingers in her own, and was holding on as tightly as her exhausted muscles would allow, which wasn’t much. Glancing over Anne saw that Sasha too had been similarly ensnared.

Marcy’s voice was quiet and small, more like the squeak of a small child than a teenage girl, “could you… stay… for just a little bit? Please?”

The tone of her words was pitiful, and it took all Anne’s strength not to sob a little at her friend’s state. She glanced over at Sasha, who nodded, “of course.”

The three young girls settled down on the mattress in a scene reminiscent of a sleepover in the earliest days of their friendship when they had all feared the dark. Sasha lay closest to the door as a shield against anything that dared approach them, Anne lay on the other side, and Marcy in the middle, sandwiched snugly between her two friends as exhaustion finally overtook her.

Outside the wind buffeted the shore, billowing over the mass of tents that dotted the sand like ants. Tomorrow they’d brave the depths of Amphibia’s ocean, but for now, it was time to rest.

Andrias watched the Dark King approaching down the hall through lidded eyes. He’d yet treat with his master’s new form but even from a distance the former king could tell the change was dramatic. The Dark King’s armour itself had been sharpened with the addition of jagged edges that flew in the face of the traditional sleek and rounded Newtopian design philosophy. Most striking though was the helm, tall and dark it bore less of an olm-like resemblance as its hand before and now was distinctly regal. Spears of black, shaped as the antennae of the old crown, rose in a circle about the top. The front was open, revealing Cameron Waybright’s features, bathed in the orange glow of the Core’s light that leaked through his eyes. The eyes shone as twin stars of burning malice, complimenting the piece de resistance of the crown, the three gems.

Ensconced upon the crown’s brow, the three calamity gems shone brightly, their power crackling about the Dark King as he strode forward, cloak billowing behind him. As he drew near Andrias noticed another addition, that of a fur shoulder cloak that was thrown about the Dark King’s shoulders, its grey fur adding a royal flair to his otherwise dark comportment.

Andrias bowed, “Your new attire suits you, majesty.”

Without breaking stride, the Dark King passed Andrias, forcing the colossal newt to do a little hop step so as to catch up with his relentless march. Glancing back over his shoulder, the Dark King grinned wolfishly at his crown prince, “I’m so glad you agree Andrias, it was rather an ordeal to put it together. A divine ordeal one might say.”

Andrias nodded solemnly and slashed a faint smile, lacking the necessary context for his liege’s joke to land. Not wishing to dwell on the subject he coughed to clear his throat, “So… uh, you’re off to see Bufo then?”

The Dark King didn’t turn his head this time, “correct, quite a coup on Beta’s part I must say. Makes one wonder if he truly did it all by himself…”

Andrias swallowed, “he’s a crafty one, devious too. I’m sure others had their hand in it, but you’d be hard-pressed to get him to let others share his glory.”

“An astute observation…” the Dark King’s voice sounded almost contemplative, “I knew there was a reason I kept you around Andrias.”

Andrias’ head bobbed down but was slow to rise as he gritted his teeth in frustration, the king’s threat quite evident to him, “I exist at your pleasure… I hope that I might redeem myself in the coming days.”

“Yes… the human invasion… what’s the status of Tau and Omicron?”

“Tau tells me they’ve spread her network of shackled agents throughout the geopolitical entity the humans call the United States, along with a dozen other human nation-states. We’ve been shipping her mind collars by the barrel load but at the exponential rate, she’s expanding the network there’s a definite bottleneck. Still, if she’d shackled as many humans as we’ve sent collars, we’re looking at a force numbering in the tens of thousands Terran-side.”

The Dark King nodded, his pace still not slowing, “as predicted then, good. What of Omicron?”

Andrias drew in a sharp breath, remembering the frobot’s last, icy, report, “he says there’s been… complications. The human weapons of mass destruction won’t be immediately accessible to us en-mass as we hoped, but he does report he can prevent a fusion weapon response from the humans for at least thirty-six of their hours.”

“I see… and how many does he think we can launch initially?”

“…three.”