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human's revenge, he and his scant remaining warriors. He wondered if the others, scattered across the globe, had fared so well. Not long after every piece of their technology had failed, and they had been forced into hiding, word had still filtered down from the braggadocios humans that the man, Jonas, was to blame. Aern knew the name. It was a name the Fade holding this continent knew well. So part of him was not surprised that even after they had ripped his powers from him, this Jonas still found a way to hand them defeat. But—and this was the part that had confused him for years—not before scampering off with a few other humans to another world, using the Fade's own technology. It did not make sense that he would leave, knowing victory was at hand. Unless, Aern had decided, it was to guard the final thing which would reignite the Fade's power—their Queen.
    For so many years his people had tried to bring life again to useless tools with the hope of finding Jonas following him. For so long they had all but failed. Three years before, they had seen the blue gate again for the first time, but a crackling, miniature version of its former glory, refusing to form into the calm sea that would let them leave. And in those three years it refused to be repaired—still a mutilated, hectic light that no living thing could pass through in safety. Perhaps a Wraith could survive, but it did not matter. To go home would mean shame, and all other addresses had been lost to the human’s trickery. Besides, his only interest was in finding Jonas. And Jonas would not let himself be found.
    Until he was.
    An oxidizing shell housed one of the limited numbers of gadgets they had managed to get working, using parts scavenged from human technology. It sat in the rear of Aern's cave, its cracked screen flickering but reliable. It had been set on the task of finding where the human, Jonas, escaped to from the moment it had buzzed back to life. But it was silent all those years. Aern feared that Jonas had found the device which they had secreted into his skull so many years before. But, now, the machine was lit up in greeting as Aern trundled into the cave's entrance. The long, droning noise it gave confused him before he realized what it was—what it meant. He rushed to it, wiping a thick layer of dust from its screen. Something like a mathematical formula began to appear and Aern widened his thick, gray lips.
    Something sparked in him, deep, a strange thing he had not felt in so many years—hope. He called out for one of the Wraith. The name was something he had picked up from the humans. The technology that made them special was something they had taken from another conquered world—and so, not obliterated by the human’s attack. Now that they had a place to go, the Wraith might be the only one among them who could survive a trip through the mangled portal. From the other side it could be stabilized. Their time of testing was over now. The Queen was calling them to her side.
    ***
    The homeless man sat on his knees, bent over, his face on the ground. A thick, pink snake of a scar sat coiled on his head, just visible through his hair. Seeing it scared Cynthia even more. He gave a guttural moan, and she let out a yelp of her own, tripping backwards a few feet. Her head whipped around hoping to see anyone nearby. Then, he began to convulse, and she sank a hand into her pocket for her phone. She hammered out 9-1-1 and shook, waiting for him to fall over dead.
    “Hello?” her voice broke. “There’s a homeless man at my school having some sort of seiz—” She stopped as she watched him settle, take in a long, gasping breath, and get to his feet. He looked at her, trembling. Then leapt at her, grabbed her. The phone jumped from her hand.
    His eyes became wide and crazed. They seemed to stare into her, not comprehending what they were seeing. For a moment, it seemed that he might not let go; he might drag her into the woods. Then, his hands