Undone: A GameLit/LitRPG Novel of Time Travel and Alternate Realities: Head Hoppers, #2

By MK Eidson and Emila H Thicke

Previously published as Undone: A GameLit Novel by MK Eidson & Emila H Thicke. This is the 2nd edition.

 

Not everyone wants to be Chosen.

Morrow the Punk Lightning Wizard, an avatar living a quiet life in Khertaan with his Angel wife and Frogkin daughter, is happy not to be among those Chosen as PCs for players from another world. His is a tight-knit family, and he wants to keep it that way.

The alien players, however, won't leave Morrow and his family alone. Nick McKenzie and his Earth family need Morrow's family as their PC avatars, or so claims ODYSSEY, a collective of telepathic, time-traveling, reality-hopping nanobots. While not easily persuaded, Morrow agrees to visit Earth—as a spirit hosted in Nick's body—to better understand why it's so necessary for Nick and his family to have avatars in Khertaan. But when sinister forces work to prevent Morrow's return home, will he have what it takes to fight his way back and save his family from a fate worse than death?

Based on reader feedback, Undone—volume 2 of the Head Hoppers series—has been revised and rewritten with new chapters and a new perspective, while retaining necessary material from the first edition.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eposic
• Release date: May 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224090976

MK Eidson

Owner and operator of the Eposic publishing imprint, MK (Mike) Eidson wrote his first speculative fiction tale in fourth grade. He has served as game master for countless RPG sessions, running games in dozens of rules systems, often converting scenarios written for one system to run in another. He's now happily combining his passions for speculative fiction and role-playing in the creation of GameLit / LitRPG novels, hoping to find readers who can appreciate his unfettered and unhinged style. Mike lives in Central Florida with his wife and their pet Jack Russell Terrier, where they enjoy casual strolls around the neighborhood and nearby parks. Mike also enjoys creating games, number & letter puzzles, digital art, and videos. He creates electronic music as a member of the electronic music act, Max Gumdrop.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE: SUMMONS

Iabhor the idea of being possessed by an alien controlling my body for their own amusement. That’s exactly what will happen to me if I’m among the Chosen. I pray that I am not, and I pray that neither Kylie nor Slithy are either.

In response to a city-wide System notification, my Angel wife takes me and our five-year-old Frogkin daughter by the hand. Kylie wears her usual suit of skintight black leather armor, much like what I wear... except for her strikingly feminine curves. We’re both lean, but I’m what people would refer to as wiry, while they’d call Kylie slender. Her flesh is even paler than mine. Wings three shades whiter than her skin rise behind her. Being an Angel by kindred, she’s the only one of the three of us with wings.

Slithy giggles in anticipation of the flight we’re about to embark upon. The youngster’s glossy red skin with black spots and stripes compares closely to the skin of a reddish poison dart frog. A swath of black surrounds her eyes like a racoon’s mask. Her golden irises nearly sparkle. She wears a spare top and a fringed loincloth over bikini bottoms, all crafted from beige cloth. Her lips painted pale pink, a stripe of white highlights the middle portion of her upper one. It’s her usual look.

Folding back her wings, Kylie lifts Slithy and me off the ground with no strain on our arms. Her wings being but for show, her Angel kindred magic carries us skyward. Soon we’re hovering above the hundreds gathered on the ground. Before us rises the Fanciful Pegasus Tower, a three-hundred-foot-high fortress of dark stone, standing atop a plateau situated at the east end of Voorton. Beyond the plateau rests an unnamed ocean upon which the System forbids us to set sail.

Wooden stairs never traversed by anyone lead up the western side of the plateau to its top, at the center of which stands the Fanciful Pegasus Tower. Near the top of the fortress is engraved a twenty-foot diameter emblem of mysterious meaning, a foot-wide band surrounding the body of a Pegasus, its wings protruding beyond the boundaries of the band. The emblem’s craftsmanship is immaculate, practically bringing the Pegasus to life.

City Guardsmen form two parallel lines five feet apart, creating a makeshift pathway between them leading from the street to the foot of the stairs. The clop clop of heavy hooves announces Ruby the Centaur as she traverses the path. At eight feet tall, she towers over the Guards. Stopping short of the stairs, she turns about-face, her namesake red hair flowing over her shoulders as she raises a hand, palm outward. "Citizens of Voorton. Her voice booms, even as my local chat log captures her words, attributing them to her for eternity. Today is the day of legend, the beginning of a new era across Khertaan, the first day of the Game. If you are Chosen, you will know it. You will feel it inside you like I do, an undeniable calling. Do not be afraid. It is your duty to make of your bodies a willing sacrifice. We have always known we are here for a purpose, and finally we may fulfill it.

"Those of you who are not Chosen... it is incumbent upon you to fulfill the roles set for you by the System, to present reasonable assistance or obstacles to the players who return in our place. Should a player possess the body of an acquaintance, a friend, or a family member, do not treat them as such. Do not make their way easier simply because you recognize the body standing before you. And don’t expect the player inside the body to recognize you. They will be strangers to our world. You will know them by their PC designations. Those of you who aren’t possessed by players will carry NPC designations.

"The players will be here for one thing—to amuse themselves. But despite their frivolity, they’ll be doing us a favor. At last our skills and abilities will unlock, to rise to greater heights than we can even imagine. And this is why the Chosen among us must go... why we must put aside our reservations and doubts, to allow the minds and spirits of aliens to dwell inside a relative few of us, attempting anything they desire. It’s a lot to ask from you who are Chosen. For all our sakes, please face and accept your fates.

"So... who among you feels the summons? Who among you are Chosen? She beckons as she shouts, Come forward, that the Game may begin. She spins around. Follow me." The lady Centaur gallops up the stairs, eager to usher in the new era.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I catch Kylie’s anxious gaze. We’re both waiting and wondering if either of us will feel the summons. I’m not feeling it. She shakes her head, not feeling it either. But we can’t relax yet. We can’t know for sure that one or both of us won’t still be Chosen. No one has ever been summoned before—we only know as much about the process as the System has revealed to us in brief—often cryptic—notifications. Not knowing what to expect, we wait, neither of us speaking as we watch events unfold below.

Not yet a quarter of the way to the top of the plateau, Ruby pauses to see who follows her. With heads held high and eyes alight, a queue of Voorton citizens walk the aisle formed by the Guards. Proclaiming in local chat how proud they are to have been Chosen, they reveal their ids: Mithabel, a female Elf; Dylan, a female Polynesian; Yuni, a female Asian; her twin brother, Bradford, also an Asian. It’s not typical for relatives—even siblings—in Khertaan to be of the same kindred, so it’s surprising to see that Yuni and Bradford are. ZAngel, a male Angel whom I recall seeing more than once in the Oxford Inn where Kylie and I work, shares his pride at being Chosen. He’s nice, having privately chatted with us on occasion. Not many Angels live in Khertaan, much less so here in Voorton, making it a rare treat for my wife to occasionally converse with another of her kind.

Dozens of names scroll by in my chat log as the procession marches on, each of the Chosen eager to grab a fleeting moment of fame. There’s VeraCity, a Flame Demoness; Mylynna, a Mist Succubus; Algor, a Sand Demon; Lady Amarynth, a Viking woman; and Ned, a Shadow Gaunt male. That last one intrigues me. I don’t believe I’ve ever met a Shadow Gaunt. Scanning the line of Chosen climbing the stairs, I spot a dark, robed figure. That must be Ned. How have I never seen him walk by the window of the Oxford Inn on occasion? He’s so distinctive, I’d remember if I’d seen him before.

Dozens more names scroll by, including Ger-Alt, a female Goblin; Toxxi, a female Faerie; FepXveq, a female Dark Elf; TorEye, a male Robot; TehnKhar, an Elitist male; and ChrisCross, another Elitist male.

Of the dozens upon dozens of names scrolling by, I only recognize ZAngel. I’ve spent the majority of my time as window dressing for an eating establishment in a town whose citizens rarely eat. That’s not a recipe for meeting lots of people.

By the time no more persons join the end of the queue, somewhere around a couple hundred have followed in Ruby’s wake. They’ll return, but they won’t be themselves. Will their real personae ever regain control of their bodies, or are they essentially martyrs? There are many theories, but no way yet to prove any of them. Someday, we’ll know the truth.

Ruby reaches the top of the plateau and approaches a twenty-foot-tall stone door in the base of the Fanciful Pegasus Tower. The door opens of its own accord, its base grinding in complaint against the stony ground. The Centaur woman waits until the door stops moving. Turning to face the long line of fellow Voorton citizens following her, she raises a clenched fist. "For Khertaan."

The Chosen raise their fists and shout in unison, their collective cry captured as a single entry in my chat log. "For Khertaan."

"Follow me." She rushes through the doorway, swallowed by darkness.

The Chosen at the head of the line rush in behind her, the Elf Mithabel in lead. I admire their fearlessness. If I’d been Chosen, I couldn’t have gone. Kylie wouldn’t have gone, either, had she been summoned. Have any Chosen refused the summons? If so, and if they don’t enter the Fanciful Pegasus Tower, what will their designations be once the tower door closes? Will they be PC or NPC... or nothing at all? Might they suffer dire consequences, punished by the System for their disobedience?

Perhaps the summons only went to those avatars willing to be Chosen.

The minutes pass while the line of selected souls grows shorter, disappearing into the dark fortress. Finally, the last person in queue rushes through the doorway. The door grinds closed behind them.

A shimmering shrouds the tower, gradually growing in intensity until the light becomes blinding. I shade my eyes with my free hand.

The light explodes in a flash and abruptly dies. When my vision adjusts, a collective gasp rises from the crowd, and my exhalation joins theirs, as does Kylie’s. Slithy offers an ooh, followed by a giggle. She points at the tower... or where it used to be. The plateau still stands, but the Fanciful Pegasus Tower and the stairs leading to it are gone, as though they never existed.

Kylie and I exchange knowing glances. We’re both relieved neither of us were Chosen. We pull each other into a hug, with Slithy wedged in next to us. Our family remains united, for which we are truly grateful.

Breaking the hug, I glance at the System clock in the upper right corner of my view. The time is forty-eight seconds after midnight. The date reads as Day 1, Year 1. It truly is the beginning of a new era.

CHAPTER TWO: POWERS

Another city-wide System notification directs everyone remaining in Voorton to return to their normal routines. Kylie, Slithy, and I make our way to our regular table in the Oxford Inn. The innkeeper brings us our usual plates of steak, potatoes, and peas, along with mugs of ale for Kylie and me and a cup of water for Slithy.

So.... I ignore the food and drink as I reach across the table to place a light touch on Kylie’s hand. What do you make of all this, dear?

She interlaces her fingers with mine. I never thought I’d see the day. Not in a million years did I believe the legends of the Chosen ones. I’m so glad none of us were summoned.

Same here. I glance at Slithy. "And can you imagine how it would have been for our little girl if we’d both been Chosen? I still shudder to think it was a possibility."

Slithy giggles. What’s a Mentalist, Mommy?

My Angel wife and I exchange curious glances. Neither of us know what our daughter is talking about. Kylie leans towards Slithy. I don’t know, honey. Why do you ask?

Frowning, the Frogkin child shrugs. "I am one."

It’s my turn to lean in. What makes you say that?

Her smile returns. I read it.

Kylie and I glance once more at each other, and her eyes spark as understanding strikes us both. Focusing on my personal view port, I make a mental request to see my character sheet. A translucent gray rectangle hangs in space before me—an optical illusion contained only within my view port. Black text scrolls against the gray background, showing all my character info.

Name: Morrow. Player: NPC

Class: Lightning Wizard, level 1.

Kindred: Punk. Gender: Male. Age: 38.

Equipment:

Leather Armor, Wizard’s Wand, Lightning Breath,

Thunderbolt Tattoo (back of right hand).

Health statuses:

Hit Points 80, Mental Points 100,

Spiritual Points 80, Emotional Points 80.

Auni: 10.

Physical attributes:

Brawn 12, Sensing 16, Dexterity 8,

Constitution 13, Agility 8, Toughness 10.

Mental attributes:

Willpower 17, Understanding 14, Logic 16,

Sanity 5, Intuition 13, Memory 10.

Spiritual attributes:

Faith 6, Conscience 8, Favor 14,

Belief 12, Insight 12, Morals 10.

Emotional attributes:

Passion 12, Empathy 6, Charisma 12,

Hope 6, Temperance 12, Optimism 8.

Kindred traits:

Rebel 1.

Character traits:

Magical Familiar 1, Mental Armor 1,

Natural Weapon - Lightning Breath 1.

Class skills:

Spellcasting 1, Lightning Attack 1.

Spells:

Lightning Strike 1, Lightning Shell 1,

Identify 1.

There’s a ton of new information on my character sheet. I’d never before been given a character class. Lightning Wizard is cool. I’ve got class skills and spells and character traits. I’m also the owner of a Wizard’s Wand and Lightning Breath. Dismissing my character sheet, I will my Wand to hand, and it appears there. It had been added to my invisible inventory without my being aware of it. I’m assuming the System put it there. I will the Wand to go back to my inventory, and it vanishes.

It’s odd to think of Lightning Breath as an item to be owned, but I can kinda understand why, since it’s considered a natural weapon. But willing it to hand doesn’t work, not that I expected it would. Leaning my head back, I exhale, willing the Lightning Breath to come forth.

A curious force stirs in my gut, inquiring as to how much of it I want to expend. The smallest amount possible will do for starts. I get the sense that I’m expending one point of Auni, of the ten available to me.

Electrical energy erupts in a cone from my open maw, arcing towards the ceiling. I clamp my mouth shut, and the energy dissipates without damaging anything.

"Morrow!" Kylie’s tone reprimands me.

I chuckle in reply. I never expected to have such power. I’m a Wizard who can breathe lightning. I can’t wait to cast my first spell. I nudge my wife. What can you do, my dear, aside from flying or hypnotizing people? Being an Angel, she’s always had the abilities I just named. I want to know what she can do that she’s never done before.

With a weak smile, she stands, and a moment later rises to hover above her booth seat. Nothing new there. She holds her hands out to either side. A sword with a cylindrical glowing blue blade of opaque energy appears in her right hand, and a two-and-a-half-foot-diameter disk of the same blue energy appears centered on her left hand like a shield. She points the sword at me, its tip mere inches from my face. Meet my Spirit Blade and Spirit Shield. With a smirk, she dismisses her equipment, which vanishes as though never there. "Happy, husband?"

In reply, I jump onto the tabletop, grab my wife, and pull her into a kiss. She’s happy to oblige me.

Flames spring up around us. Kylie lifts me away from danger....

But the fire is gone, as though it was never there. Kylie and I exchange those curious glances we’re so good at trading. We both turn our attention to our daughter as she erupts into laughter.

Kylie drops me back into my seat and settles into hers. She turns her Hypnotic Gaze on our Frogkin offspring. What did you do, Slithy girl?

It’s just pretend fire, Mommy. It won’t hurt you.

I hold back from laughing, not wanting to encourage our daughter. Maybe don’t make pretend-fire again unless Mommy or Daddy ask you to, okay?

Okay. She laughs. Butterflies circle her head.

Kylie suppresses any amusement or pride she might be feeling over knowing our little girl has powers. "Honey, please don’t make anything pretend unless Mommy or Daddy says it’s okay."

The butterflies disappear. Slithy frowns, her chin drooping. Okay.

My Angel wife and I both shake our heads, exhaling with relief. Our daughter already has a predisposition for mischief, what with being able to jump about like a frog. The ability to make illusions could elevate her mischief-making by orders of magnitude.

The three of us sit in silence for a bit, contemplating all we’ve just learned about our new selves.

A spider crawls out on the table. Kylie and I both turn glares on our daughter as she unsuccessfully attempts to stifle her giggle. I’m sorry.

Daughter, Kylie says with a supreme calmness afforded her when she uses her Hypnotic Voice, I realize you’re only having fun, but until we understand our new powers better, you mustn’t exercise yours again. Do you understand?

My wife seldom resorts to using her powers on our willful child to reinforce instruction, but the gravity of our new situation merits it.

A tear drops from Slithy’s cheek onto the table.

With a heavy sigh, Kylie puts a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. Don’t cry, honey.

Slithy lifts her chin and smiles. The teardrop on the table dissipates as though instantaneously evaporating. I’m not. It’s just pretend.

My jaw drops, as does Kylie’s, both of us gasping at the implications.

Angels are among the most powerful kindreds in Khertaan. In addition to the ability to fly, they also can force their will on others through hypnosis. There’s little call for hypnotizing others in our peaceful town, aside from entertainment purposes, and then the subjects are volunteers eager to test their own strength of character. Few in Voorton have ever resisted either Kylie or ZAngel. I’ve demonstrated my own ability to resist them, as have other Punks, what with our rebellious natures imbuing us with natural defenses against mental manipulation. That’s why Kylie and I are such a compatible couple. Opposites attract. She’s the Irresistible Force and I’m the Immovable Object. Sometimes she wins, but most times I do.

On the other hand, our daughter has never shown a capability to resist her mother’s Hypnotic Voice. The illusionary tear, however, is proof she just has. Not only does she have the mental wherewithal to create illusions, but she’s acquired strong mental defenses too. Earlier, she’d asked us what a Mentalist was. Now we know.

If we thought our little girl had a penchant for mischievousness before....

"What’s a penchant, Daddy?"

My jaw can’t drop any lower. Did you just read my mind?

Yes, Daddy.

The gazes Kylie and I trade aren’t curious ones. They’re shocked ones, and a little frightened.

I turn back to Slithy. Do not read my mind again. Or Mommy’s. I mean it. It’s not nice.

I won’t, Daddy.

Kylie takes Slithy’s chin in hand. See that you don’t, honey. She doesn’t bother using her Hypnotic Voice.

I promise. Slithy looks serious. She’s young, but we’ve impressed upon her the severity of the matter.

Thing is, I don’t know whether to believe her. But she doesn’t pipe up and say that I can believe her, so maybe she’s really not reading my mind right now, and thus doesn’t know I’m questioning her trustworthiness, which helps me trust her more. I want to trust her. No, it’s more than a want... it’s a need.

Nothing could have prepared Kylie and me for what our little girl has become. She’s just as powerful as her parents, only in a different way. Hell, one might even say she’s more powerful than we are, and that’s a frightening prospect.

Recalling my character sheet, it sinks in that my Willpower attribute is abnormally high. I want to try something. Slithy, dear, I know we just told you not to read our minds, but I want you to try reading mine now. It’s okay, because I’m asking you to do it. Tell me what number I’m thinking of. I think of the number four, not trying to block her ability, not yet. I’ll try that with the next number.

Kylie gives me a stern look. I grimace back at her, half grinning.

But, Daddy....

It’s only because I’m asking you to do it, Slithy. It’s all right if I ask you. I want to test something of my own, and I need you to help me.

Slithy’s face brightens. "Okay, Daddy. It’s four."

Good. Now I’m going to think of a new number for you to guess. Are you ready?

Seven.

Wait.... I hadn’t even chosen my new number yet, but I might have gone with seven. Could it be...? Are you predicting the future?

What do you mean, Daddy?

Adrenaline rushes through me. Our little girl might be even more powerful than I’d realized. I grab up a few peas from my plate without counting them.

Go ahead and look, Daddy.

Slowly I open my fist. Lying on my palm are seven peas.

Oh my, Kylie whispers. "You are predicting the future, honey."

Slithy pouts. Is that okay?

Oh, yes. Kylie strokes our daughter’s hair. It’s fine. It could help you avoid danger.

I run the experiment again, and Slithy gets the number of peas right again. But I’m not quite done. I pick up another set of uncounted peas, focusing my Willpower to block her prediction ability. Okay, daughter, how many peas am I holding now?

She stares at my hand for a few seconds. Is she battling my Willpower? Five.

She’s right. Okay, let’s try something else. I focus my Willpower again to block her, and then think of the number sixteen. Read my mind one more time, honey. What number am I thinking of now?

Her brow furrows in concentration for several seconds. I don’t know.

Ah, so I can block her from reading my mind, but not from seeing the future. How far into the future can she see, exactly? I pick up another set of uncounted peas, and don’t attempt to block her prediction ability, though I keep up my mental shield against her reading my mind. How many peas am I holding now, sweetie?

I don’t know.

Watching the seconds tick by on the System clock, I decide I’ll open my fist in two minutes. When you know how many peas I’m holding, tell us.

After a minute and fifty seconds pass in silence, Slithy pipes up. Eight.

I keep my fist closed until the two minutes are done, and then open it. I’m holding eight peas. Wow. I drop the peas back on my plate and grab up another set. I’ll reveal them in ten seconds. How many now?

I don’t know, Daddy. It’s too soon.

The seconds tick by.

Oh, it’s six, Daddy, Slithy announces just before the ten seconds expire.

Opening my fist to reveal six peas, I blow out a whew and lock eyes with Kylie. Our little girl can see ten seconds into the future... and reads minds in the moment. Her prediction ability—and maybe all our abilities—has a cool down period of ten seconds. I was able to block her mind-reading ability by focusing my Willpower, but I can’t block her prediction ability.

Kylie stares back into my soul. We’ve known each other for so long, she and I can read each other without any special powers. We’re both scared... but proud... and the pride outweighs the fear.

What’s funny? Slithy asks.

Kylie and I both burst out laughing. Then Kylie proceeds to instruct our daughter to continue using her prediction ability. Let us know immediately if you sense any danger. But don’t read anyone’s mind again unless we ask you to. Promise me.

I promise, Mommy. I can’t Mind Read too often anyway. It uses up my P-S-I points, and I only have six.

She has Psi points to boost her powers. I suspect they recharge over time.

Is there anything else new you can do?

Yes. I don’t want to.

What is it?

Hurt people. Hurt their minds. Slithy points at her forehead and then turns her finger to point at Kylie’s forehead, making an explosion sound with her lips.

Kylie’s eyes widen. No, don’t do that either, to anyone, unless Mommy or Daddy ask you to.

There should never be a reason why we’d ask our daughter to hurt someone’s mind. I certainly hope it never comes to that.

CHAPTER THREE: ARRIVAL

No one currently occupies the Oxford Inn except us and the innkeeper. More people than normal hang around outside our window, sneaking frequent glimpses of the plateau. With so many people blocking our view, we can’t see much from where we sit.

At 1:03 AM by the System clock, everyone stops moving, their gazes turned to the plateau. What’s happening? Kylie takes me and Slithy by the hand and flies us outside.

A System notification flashes in my view port: All NPCs return to your assigned routines immediately. Kylie turns back towards the Oxford.

Not yet. I can’t help my rebellious nature. We deserve to see what the others have seen.

With a pained glance at me, my wife nevertheless flies upward far enough for us to get a clear view of the plateau. The fortress and stairs haven’t returned, though there’s a mirage-like image of six steps wavering in place at the base of the plateau, as though we’re looking at the foot of the stairs through an inter-dimensional portal.

A dark robed figure appears within the portal, walking down the stairs. The person previously identified as Ned the male Shadow Gaunt emerges from the portal, which collapses on itself behind him. As he looks about, other Voorton citizens hastily turn their attention away from him and engage in their routine behaviors, as the System had instructed.

You, there, Angel. His speech syrupy and hinting of arrogance, Ned points up at us. Come here. All three of you.

A System notification pops up in my view port. Any NPC may deviate from routine behavior to respond to PC requests. It is permitted but not required for NPCs to travel or otherwise interact with PCs as they request. Adventurous NPCs may join PC parties if invited. Traveling with PCs or otherwise interacting with them in ways that fit an NPC’s assigned role or class may earn experience points for the NPC.

Kylie looks askance at me.

I shrug back with a noncommittal frown. I’m game if you are. We could be the first NPCs to earn experience points.

I’m concerned about our little girl.

Of course. She’s not alone in her concern, but.... I don’t think the man intends to harm us. Let’s find out what he wants. The worse that happens is we all die once and are forced to respawn. If that happens, then we know to take more care in approaching PCs in the future. I think the risk is worth taking. But you’re the one whose flying. It’s your call.

We lightly land near the robed man. His hood veils his face with darkness, which one might expect from a Shadow Gaunt. Kylie keeps tight hold of my hand and Slithy’s as she addresses the dark one. Welcome back, Ned. She doesn’t ask what he wants, leaving him to take the initiative on that matter.

It’s impossible to read his facial expressions, masked as they are by shadow. But there’s a hint of amusement in his tone as he replies, I’m... oh, yes. I’m Ned here. Where I’m from, they call me Seth. But no matter.... Where are my manners? Greetings to you, beautiful Angel. His eyes focus on his private view port and chat logs. "Oh... I see.... Your name is Kylie. I’m not fully familiar with how things operate here, so you’ll have to excuse me. May I inquire as to the names of your intimidating companions?"

An internal shock shakes me free of the wall of dislike rising around my brain. I hadn’t meant to send out antagonistic vibes, but now find it amusing that I had, and that Slithy had, too. We aren’t used to men hitting on our Angel.

This is my husband, Morrow the Punk. Kylie lifts my hand enough to indicate that she’s talking about me, though Ned could have figured that out. Then she lifts Slithy’s hand. And this is my Frogkin daughter, Slithy.

Ned points to the top of my head. That’s quite the green mohawk you have, Morrow.

I.... Few people have ever commented on my hairstyle, and despite my overall high mental attributes, I can’t find words to reply. I’m sure Ned intended his statement as a compliment, but the green mohawk is the most common hairstyle among us Punks.

The Shadow Gaunt directs his attention to Slithy. And you, little one, have quite the golden eyes.

Our daughter makes no reply to his comments about her appearance, either.

Well, then.... The dark one chuckles as he turns again to Kylie. Will you do me the honor of acquainting me with your world, fair Angel?

Kylie grimaces. I’m not a Guide. Like you, I don’t have knowledge of Khertaan outside this city.

I see. Well, I would nevertheless very much like you to accompany me on my journeys in this world, if you will. Your husband and daughter too, of course. If you’re all inclined to travel as a family. He reels back, as though trying