Everson moved through the melee like the apparition he apparently was. He viewed the violence with real despair. Hallucination or not, it was all too real and reminiscent of the carnage he had encountered at the Grand Schism. The prince mourned the falling Manolith warmen as much as he grieved the dying Indirans.

He gazed helplessly at the stricken faces, their features contorting as the life left their eyes. Death was death, and its cruelty was democratic. Unable to watch any longer, Everson cast his gaze upward. Though he did not find mercy there, he at least discovered beauty.

She stood atop a curved staircase that ascended in a sweeping arc from behind two ornate thrones. She stood quite still and stared directly at him. The sight of her took his breath away, her gaze like a hand compressing his heart. Everson was certain that he could detect recognition in her countenance. They had met somewhere before, somewhere between the Tree and this vision of a possible future.

She was incandescent and the prince knew it was not just his imagination. This girl glowed, much as he himself was glowing. Everson surmised that they might just be spectral spectators, immersed but apart from this turmoil, as if the battle at hand was nothing more than a backdrop to their meeting.

The prince knew. He simply knew down to the core of his being. This was the Manolithic princess, Allegra.

As if the gravitational pull between Indira and Mano had finally grown strong enough to reunite the long-estranged planets, Everson was drawn to her, moving without conscious thought and almost without will. He felt as if he were floating and that the world around them with its hatred and violence no longer mattered.

Everson began to climb the stairs, his unwavering gaze embracing every detail of the waiting princess. He could see the gentle rise and fall of her bosom. The blush beneath her luminous eyes. He was now almost close enough to touch her. Instead, she reached for him.

Her alabaster hand floated in the air like an invitation to dance. Everson took it, and the touch was like a pure and perfect chord of music, harmony melding with melody in a vibration felt as much as heard. He ascended the final step and they were face-to-face. Their heads inclined together to kiss.

The magic of the moment was shattered by a strident scream. Everson looked over Allegra’s shoulder at a maniacal man hurtling toward them. Murderous eyes blazed in their hollowed, darkened sockets. A spray of wild hair jutted out at lunatic angles beneath a golden crown. Judging by his crown, this rampaging man could be none other than King Xander the Firm.

“Never!” bellowed Xander, nearly upon them. The king raised a blood-coated sword high above his head, his face twisted by rage. Everson instinctively pushed Allegra out of harm’s way as the blade came down.

* * *

Allegra gasped. She was shocked and chilled as if a monstrous wave had swept her into the icy depths of the Ocean of Manorain. She stood in the center of her room, her chest heaving to regain the breath that had so abruptly abandoned her. Her eyes were wide, the pupils mere specks as she stared intently at nothing.