“Dad, oh my God,” Sam says quietly.

It’s difficult to look at the Malcolm on-screen, and it gets even worse when Anu starts asking him questions.

“Good morning, Malcolm,” Anu says, now in English, his tone the kind usually reserved for children. “Are you ready to resume our conversation?”

“Yes, Doctor,” the Malcolm on-screen answers, his mouth sagging through the words, a glimmer of drool appearing at the corner of his mouth.

“Very good,” Anu replies, and glances down at a clipboard on his lap. “I want you to think about your encounter with Pittacus Lore. I want to know what he was doing on Earth.”

“He was preparing for what is to come,” Malcolm replies, his voice distant and robotic.

“Be specific, Malcolm,” Anu insists.

“He was preparing for the Mogadorian invasion and the rebirth of Lorien.” On the screen, Malcolm looks suddenly alarmed. He jerks his arms against his bonds. “They’re already here. Hunting us.”

“Indeed, but you’re safe now,” Anu says, and waits for Malcolm to calm down. “How long have the Loric been visiting Earth?”

“Centuries. Pittacus hoped that humanity would be ready when the time came.”

“When the time came for what?”

“To fight. To restart Lorien.”

Anu drums the clipboard with his pen, growing annoyed by Malcolm’s hypnotized vagueness. “How will they restart Lorien from here, Malcolm? The planet is light-years away. Are you lying to me?”

“Not lying,” Malcolm mumbles. “Lorien is not simply a planet. It is more than that. It can exist in any place where the people are worthy. Pittacus and the Elders have already made the preparations. Loralite runs beneath our feet even now, circulating through the Earth. Like blood coursing through veins, it only needs a heartbeat to give it purpose. All it needs is to be awoken.”

Anu leans forward, suddenly very interested. I find myself doing the same thing, bending towards the screen, my head tilted.

“How will they accomplish this?” Anu asks, clearly trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“Each of the Garde possesses what Pittacus called Phoenix Stones,” Malcolm replies. “When the Garde come of age, the Stones can be used to re-create the features of Lorien—the plant life, Loralite, the Chimærae.”

“But what of the Legacies? What of Lorien’s true gifts?”

“Those, too, will come once Lorien is awoken,” Malcolm answers. “The Phoenix Stones, the pendants, everything has a purpose. When they are committed to the Earth in the Elders’ Sanctuary, Lorien will live once again.”

Anu glances back at the camera, his eyes wide. He composes himself and presses on.

“Where is this Sanctuary, Malcolm?”

“Calakmul. Only the Garde may enter.”

Here, Malcolm pauses the recording. He looks around the room; his lips are squeezed into a somber line, but there’s a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. Everyone’s stunned faces peer back at him, none of us quite done digesting what we’ve just seen.

Nine raises his hand, frowning. “I don’t get it. What the hell is Calakmul?”

“It’s an ancient Mayan city located in southeast Mexico,” Malcolm replies, a ripple of excitement stirring his voice.