Allegra could feel Geneva staring at her, but she did not want to break the spell. The princess could discern a new focus, a pinpoint of light in the blackness of infinite space, like the sparkle of an approaching star. It was far away, dancing at the edge of her awareness, but, still, Allegra had the surreal sense that something was now searching for her. The emotion that now coalesced within her was not fear.

It was hope.

* * *

Everson dropped to his hands and knees, crying out against a phantom pain. His face glistened with sweat as if he had indeed engaged in some physical confrontation, but a frantic assessment assured him that his head was still attached.

Gone was the princess and the mad king and his bloody blade. Gone was the entire throne room and all its inhabitants. Gone even was the grid that had snared him into being an unwilling witness and participant. Everson was once again in the third chamber with its sepulchral silence, facing the now docile machine and kneeling upon the slightly rumpled apron.

He flipped around and sat heavily on his rump, wiping the sweat from his face and trying to process the dream or vision or time travel that he had just experienced. It had been so real, so palpable, and Everson guessed that it was of paramount importance that he remember every detail. These three strange machines The Which called Dogs had been waiting lifetimes to deliver their directives only to him, and it irritated Everson that their clues did not come complete with further instructions.

Was this last revelation a warning of what would be if he didn’t piece together the puzzle of the Prophecy just so? In which case, the promise of his own demise was not just a possibility but a probability. Not a very good motivational tool to take up the cause, Everson thought wryly.

Still, he was certain of one thing. He would never forget the vision that was Allegra.

Everson looked to the inscrutable black box, hoping to receive some sort of prompt. But the machine had returned to its somnambulistic state, lights blinking drowsily, graphs undulating with little urgency. He missed the much more interactive android. Still, Everson suspected that this state of nothing was once again simply a prelude to a very serious something. In the interim, he decided to collect the clutter of gold coins still piled at the base of the box. He figured that everything presented to him during this cryptic initiation was worth retaining for future purposes.

The task brought him closer to the machine, and as he busied himself with plucking up coins and placing them in his satchel, he grew unmindful of the dormant machine. That is, until a slot in its face slid open at Everson’s eye level.