Maybe I’m looking at Lorien itself.

“Two Loric and a Mogadorian,” the entity says at last, its appraisal of us complete. Its voice is nothing like Eight’s used to be—it’s like a hundred voices speaking at once, all of them perfectly in tune. The flashing pools of energy where Eight’s eyes used to be linger on Adam again and the entity’s lips purse in curiosity. “Except not quite. You are something different. Something new.”

“Uh, thank you?” Adam replies, and takes another step backwards.

Marina clears her throat and steps closer to the well. There are tears in her eyes. Her hands extend out in front of her, like she wants to grab at the entity’s hand and make sure he’s real.

“Eight? Is that you?” Her voice is hard to hear over the rhythmic pulsing beneath the well.

The entity turns his gaze on Marina and frowns. “No. I am sorry, daughter. Your friend is gone.”

Marina’s shoulders heave with disappointment. The thing in Eight’s body reaches out to comfort her, but energy crackles between them and it ends up pulling back.

“He is with me now,” the entity says, soothingly. “He does me a great service, letting me speak through him. It has been a long time since I had a voice.”

“Are you Lorien?” I ask, at last finding my own voice. “Are you, like, the planet?”

The entity seems to consider my question. Through the thin fabric of Eight’s shirt, I can see his wound light up. It glows cobalt blue like the rest of him, his entire body filled up with the energy. It’s seeping out of him.

“I was called that once, yes,” the entity says, and waves its hand at the glowing carvings on the walls. “In other places, I was called other things. And now, on this planet, I will be called something new.”

“You’re a god,” Marina breathes.

“No. I simply am.”

I shake my head. God or not, we need this thing’s help. We don’t have time for riddles. I’m suddenly really, really tired of cave drawings and prophecies and glowing people.

“Do you know what’s happening?” I ask Eight—Lorien—whatever it is. “The Mogadorians are invading.”

The entity’s eyes turn once again to Adam. “Not all of them, I see.”

Adam looks uncomfortable. The entity quickly turns away. It stares up at the ceiling and it’s as if those crackling eyes can see outside of the temple. Like it can see everything.

“Yes. They are coming,” the entity says, his echoing voice apparently bemused by the impending Mogadorian invasion. “Their leader has chased me for a very long time. Your Elders foresaw the fall of Lorien and chose to protect me. They hid me here in hopes that it would delay him.”

“It didn’t go so hot,” I reply. Marina elbows me.

The entity’s eyes slowly turn to the ceiling again. For a moment, a deep sadness passes across its face.

“So many of my children gone forever,” the entity muses. “I suppose you would be the Loric Elders now, if such a thing still exists.”