Zelgadis watched himself grow in the copy machine’s main tank and fought the disappointment that threatened to reduce him to tears. None of them had expected his clone to be anything but a chimera, but Zel had hoped—just on an outside chance—that his true, original self would prevail, and the copy would be fully human. Judging from the rough, blue flesh of the creature floating in the growth solution, the new Zelgadis would be a chimera. "So, Rezo wins again," Zel sighed to himself. He shouldn’t be such an ingrate, he knew: The Lord of Nightmares didn’t have to give him this second chance. She was god. Not only did she not have to explain her actions, she didn’t have to sit and listen to a mortal with an attitude problem whine at her about how he didn’t want to be dead, and she didn’t have to give him an opportunity to create a new body to house his spirit. So why was she giving him another chance? What was Zelgadis to the creator of the world that his fate should make any kind of difference to her? After the danger of him becoming a creature that could destroy her was passed, that is. All he was now was simply Zelgadis the chimera, cursed by the Red Priest to a life of eternal frustration and separation from human society. A week ago, he would have added "doomed never to be loved" to that list, too, but he’d made what to him were astonishing discoveries recently. Zelgadis smiled to himself as he remembered his meeting with Amelia in his dream. His appearance didn’t matter to her. Stone skin or flesh, she loved him for who he was, not what he looked like. Lina and Gourry were the same way: No matter what package he came in, he was still their friend Zelgadis, a friend they were willing to take any risk to save, even defying the Lord of Nightmares, herself. Even virtual strangers like Zhara, Sylph and Jaz had risked themselves to save him. Urlich, too, he supposed, though the man probably wouldn’t admit it, or would claim he was just trying to please Sylph. Zel figured he had a kindred spirit in Zhara’s twin brother: Both of them were stubborn and proud, quick to demand vengeance for any harm done to a friend and skilled with a blade. Too bad Url hated his guts, or they might actually be friends.
        "I see you’re still ugly."
        Zelgadis had heard Urlich approach, so he wasn’t startled by his sudden comment, nor was he offended by its content. "Looks that way."
        Slightly disappointed that he’d failed to push any of Zel’s buttons, Urlich snorted and leaned against the tank so he was facing her—him. Whatever. It was hard to take Zelgadis seriously in Princess Amelia’s tiny, childlike (yet disturbingly shapely) body. Urlich looked Amelia’s body up and down, noting the sexy way his silk shirt clung to her curves, but especially liking her legs. A thump on the head from the man wearing the Princess’ body brought him back to his senses with a jolt. Url rubbed the top of his head and snarled at Zelgadis. "What was that for?"
        "Lecher."
        Urlich waggled a finger in Zel’s face and jumped back off the platform. "I am not a lecher," he grumped, then stood tall and made a show of straightening his clothes. Ever the fop, he was dressed to the nines to make a copy of Zelgadis and to fight his nephews, a fight he had very little hope that they would win this time. Url was glad he’d dressed up; never hurt to make a pretty corpse, especially when one was as handsome in life as he was. "I’ve always had a healthy appreciation for beautiful women. Your Princess is annoying, but even you must admit she has a nice figure."
        Zelgadis jumped down and punched him, then shrugged at the furious look Urlich gave him. "Well, it’s what Amelia would’ve done. Don’t tell me you’re not used to women hitting you, Urlich!"
        Url delicately wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and checked his teeth for any loose ones. For a little thing, the Princess could throw a helluva right hook. "Only in bed," he grinned, "and only when I ask them to."
        "Oh puh-leeze, Url!" Sylph sighed and rolled her eyes. She came up behind Urlich and thumped him on the head.
        "OW!" Url spun around, still rubbing his head. "You know, this thumping me on the head is getting really old!"
        "Then stop being an idiot," Sylph advised him as she nudged him aside for a better view of the developing Zelgadis. The copy was almost full-sized by now, having less than seven hours left to grow. It floated in fetal position, arms wrapped around its legs, which were hugged close to its chest, very slowly turning in the fluid. Slyph watched it until it had made a full turn, then got a wicked look on her face. With a quick glance Url’s way, she twirled a finger just above Amelia’s breast and looked coyly into her eyes, seeing a rather embarrassed Zelgadis behind them. "Why, Zelgadis…I had no idea you were so…so…" she waggled her eyebrows lewdly, "hung."
        Zel said: "Urk!"
        Urlich sputtered.
        Sylph giggled herself back to where her sister was just waking up. Jaz stretched, giving anyone who happened to be looking a very nice view, indeed, rubbed her eyes and asked Sylph to share the joke. Sylph flopped down on her knees and eagerly whispered into Jaz’ ear, then the two sisters gave Zelgadis steamy looks until he blushed from ear to ear, and Urlich turned red as a beet and looked close to exploding—then the women pointed at the red-faced men and giggled even more.
        "Hey you guys," Lina asked with a yawn, just waking up, herself, "what’s so funny?" Then she saw Urlich and Amelia-Zelgadis bright red and trembling with rage and mortification, respectively and busted out laughing, as well. "Oooh! Urlich! You are ugly when you’re mad!"
        Url stomped over to Lina, saw Gourry’s hand wrap around the hilt of the Sword of Light and froze, still trembling with rage. He pointed a finger in Lina’s face, opened his mouth to say something, closed it, tried it again, gave up. He spun on his heel and stormed off to join Zhara where she stood staring out the cave mouth.
        Nik looked up from sharpening his knives as the breeze from Urlich’s passage ruffled his curly red hair. "What’s with him?" He muttered.
        Lenzer frowned. "Oh, gee, Nik, let’s think about this one: His own nephews are probably gonna kill him and his whole family tomorrow. That’d make me just a little cranky, I think. How ‘bout you?"
        "Shut up!" Nik slashed at Lenzer, confident that the man had brains enough to duck the blade and was right. He went back to sharpening his knives and tried to drive the images of Ullan and Zellan out of his head, images seared into his race memory, as they no doubt were burned into Lenzer’s and Garroll’s, as well. Unlike Jaz and the other vampires, the chimeras Zhara had made could reproduce themselves in the same way that humans did. Not only were their traits passed to their offspring, but their memories as well. There wasn’t a single Marrigan chimera who didn’t have an ancestor who had died fighting the Sons of Chaos. How Lenzer could be so cavalier about the return of those monsters…
        It was as if he had stood on that plain eight hundred years ago—smelled the stench of burning blood and flesh, gagged on the fumes of Mozoku blood, perished in the holocaust Zellan had spewed from his terrible, gaping maw, like the very gate to the underworld.
        "Ah!" The dagger’s blade snapped off at the hilt and skittered across the floor. His eyes still squeezed shut against the visions in his mind, Nik threw the hilt away. "Gods, we don’t have a prayer!" His eyes flew open and he reached out to shake Lenzer by the shoulders. "We’re gonna die!"
        Lenzer brought his fists around and down onto the place where Nik’s shoulders met the base of his neck, forcing the other man’s arms to go limp. "No we’re not! Zhara commanded us to stay here and protect them, you fool!" He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of Lina and Gourry. "We’re not fighting the Sons of Chaos! So, get a hold of yourself!"
        Zhara turned dull eyes on them for a moment, then returned to her own soul rending thoughts. Another curse she’d brought on innocents. But how was she to know they’d have a race memory? And if she’d known, would that have kept her from giving them life? Could she have taken their memories from them, as she’d done to Jessica? Would that have worked? Or would they have hated her for that? A tear escaped her eye and trickled to her lips. She had ordered their ancestors to fight, never giving them the option to refuse—like a hand moving chess pieces on the board. The hand never asks the pieces if they want to be part of the game, just does with them what it will. Zhara licked the tear from her lips without tasting it. Urlich leaned against the other side of the ruined entrance, perched on a boulder Xellos’ onslaught had dislodged. She was glad he didn’t seem to want to talk about what was troubling her. Not that they really needed to, since her pain was no mystery to him. The mystery to Zhara was why he and Sylph had never said a word about what she’d done to Jessica, neither in praise nor condemnation. It was as if the battle with Ullan and Zellan had never happened—no, that wasn’t true. They grieved for their fallen son, but, strangely, accepted what had been done to Jessica. Why? For the first few centuries, Zhara had cloaked herself in silence, but even after that she hadn’t asked them why they said nothing, just let it be as if that was the way it had always been. But the vampire Jaz and the shaman Jessica were so radically different! Like a house cat and a lion! No, that wasn’t a good comparison: More like the difference between a mouse and a dragon. It was a miracle Jaz had retained her ability to turn into a fox, though that seemed to be all she’d kept of her former self.
        "And it’s all my fault," Zhara thought. She closed her eyes and clenched and unclenched her fists, remembering…

         The spell surrounded them, its power unlike anything Zhara had ever felt, even in the service of the Lord of Nightmares. Her own power was faltering, she was losing her hold on the spell, her control slipping. "Jess—ica! Help me!"
        Jessica was already there. Hers was the power Zhara felt encompassing them, wrapping itself around Zhara like a warm, comforting blanket on a cold night. "Don’t die, Zhara!" The shaman’s voice was in her mind, not her ears, as if anything could be heard above the rending of space and the outraged roars of the Sons of Chaos. Xellos lay near the place where Zeris had fallen, his hand still clutched his staff, the ruby glowing like a burning heart. Flames danced on the surface of the pool of his own blood in which Xellos drowned, unconscious, unable to free himself from danger. Urlich was on his knees nearby, clutching Sylph’s unmoving body to his chest. Both of them bled freely, her red blood mixing with his black, igniting upon contact with one another.
        "I can’t hold it!" Zhara choked, both with her lips and in her thoughts to her partner, then she screamed as power exploded out of Jessica in a supernova of white light.
        "I love you, Zhara, my one true love…"
        Then Zhara fainted and when she awoke, her sons and her father were gone, the Plain of Kairn was on fire, Urlich and Sylph lay crumpled in the last place Zhara had seen them, and Jessica was beside her, fading. All of her hair and clothes had been burned away by Ullan’s and Zellan’s fiery blood, but miraculously her skin was untouched, still perfect, flawless ivory. Her own hair and clothes had been burnt away, as well, but Zhara wouldn’t notice that until later. All she could think of then was how to keep Jessica from leaving the land of the living forever. Zhara had power inside of her, undiminished by the battle—"Jessica, what have you done? Why? I don’t want your power! I want you!"

      Zhara’s hand wrapped itself around the fox fetish pendant Jessica had given her all those many centuries ago. She’d said she’d blessed it with the elemental power of the kitsune, a power that was one with nature and the world. If not for the power Jessica had given it, the lucky charm would be nothing more than a fox carved from Onyx, a black fox, like Jessica.
        Her memories held the answer: Urlich and Sylph hadn’t stopped her from snatching Jessica back from the edge of death and making a lesser form to house her soul because they couldn’t. And yet, even later on, when even Sylph was through grieving, neither of them blamed her for what she’d done. Sylph was happy to have her sister alive, even if Jessica remembered nothing of her past. And Urlich…as far as he was concerned, Jessica was dead, and Jaz was just another Marrigan his sister had created.
        "We’ll die tomorrow, Jessica," Zhara whispered in her mind to the memory of her lost friend. No, much more than a friend. Her one true love. A spirit so akin to her own that it didn’t matter that it was housed in the body of another woman. Her efforts to save Jessica had failed when she’d taken the shaman’s memories. Those memories could only be torture, Zhara had reasoned, to one who had been so powerful. But she’d been a fool. Jessica’s last words tormented her, accused her, exposed her betrayal: Magic didn’t matter, nothing mattered, only love, and Zhara had taken that most precious thing away. Surely now it was too late to give those memories back. Jessica’s love would turn to hate to know how her beloved had betrayed her. Or…would she understand? She’d always understood Zhara, no matter how crazy her actions and words seemed sometimes, even to her own brother.
        Zhara sneaked a look at Jaz over her shoulder and a dagger pierced her heart to see her giggling with Sylph, while poor Zelgadis turned redder and redder, and even Lina Inverse got in on the joke. Was she happy as a vampire? Would she be happier if she could remember her past?
        Urlich’s hand on her shoulder startled her. "I think it’s time," he said quietly. His eyes held the sort of sadness their father’s couldn’t, like and unlike as he and Urlich were.
        Zhara blinked at him in confusion, though she had a good idea of what he meant. "Wh—time for what?"
        He narrowed his eyes and sighed impatiently. "Tell her the truth. Give her back herself."
        She jerked her shoulder out from under his hand and turned her back on him, so he couldn’t see her cry. Bad move: She was now   facing the people in the cavern, and the first to see her face was Jaz, who nudged her sister and pointed at Zhara. The merriment that had filled that end of the cavern abruptly stopped, but on the other side of the cave came Xellos’ soft chuckle. Zhara’s head snapped in that direction, but the dirty look she gave him only made Xellos laugh harder.
        He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Quite a hole you’ve dug yourself into!" He mocked. "Now what will you do? Hm? Continue to live a lie, or return Jessica’s memories and face the music, as humans say? Not that it’ll make any difference in the battle to come, mind you, since she’ll still be without her former power—but you’ll die with a clean conscience, at least."
        "What are you babbling about, Trickster?" Jaz shouted at him, throwing a shoe at his face for good measure. He stopped it scant inches from his nose and let it drop into his lap. Jaz frowned and turned her attention back to Zhara. "Well, what’s he on about now? You can’t tell me that business about me being a mighty shaman, and you turning me into a vampire is true! Zhara, you don’t have that kind of power, do you?" She looked to her sister for support, but Sylph just looked away and said nothing. Urlich wouldn’t meet her eyes, either. Zhara’s face was pale and soaked with tears, but she didn’t look away. Jaz tried to keep her sense of humor. "It is a lie, isn’t it?"
        She got up and walked toward Zhara, and as she did she seemed to change until Zhara no longer saw the vampire she’d made, but the love she’d been unable to let go. The long, curling, shining black hair and snowy-fair skin were the same, but the walk was different: Jaz slunk, Jessica had always…strode, proudly, like the queen she was. And she had always glittered with tiny jewels, as if stars had come down from the heavens to cling to her hair and clothing. She wore her great age like a royal mantle, dark eyes steady and deep, like looking into time, itself, or the vast reaches of the universe. Sylph was only a little younger than Zhara and Urlich, and Zhara had always thought the two kitsune to be close in age, but sometimes…sometimes when she’d looked into Jessica’s eyes, Zhara had seen time stretching back to the great wars between Seified and Shabranigdo, and had been able to imagine Jessica had actually been there. Asking how old she was had been futile, even Sylph wouldn’t reveal that information, not about her sister and not about herself. So, the twins had gone on assumptions, having no proven information.
        "Zhara!"
        Zhara blinked to find Jaz standing before her with a concerned look on her face. "Is it true?"
        "Huh?" Zhara gulped and swore she’d kill her father if the opportunity presented itself. How dare he force her into such an awkward situation when she wasn’t ready to…Oh, those eyes! Those same, dark eyes, but so shallow! No depths of the heavens, no well of time, no ancient battles between good and evil. Just eyes, like anybody’s eyes. "I—I’m sorry!" Zhara ran from the cave, leaving Jaz blinking in puzzlement behind her.
        Urlich recovered first, and took off after his sister, calling over his shoulder for the others to stay where they were. Then he disappeared and reappeared in Zhara’s path. She crashed into him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her. "What was that all about?!" He demanded into her hair. "She wants the truth, dammit, it’s about time you gave it to her!" Url slid his hands from his sister’s back to her shoulders and held her away from him. When she wouldn’t look at him, he pushed her chin up until he could look into her face, but she jerked away. Enraged, Urlich grabbed her head between his hands and forced her to look at him. "I know what you’re feeling, Zhara," he told her in a steely voice, "but this is something you should have done long ago! You should never—"
        "—have changed her!" Zhara screamed at him, "I know that! You think I haven’t regretted it every second of every day of the last eight hundred years?! Shit, Url, what kind of a monster do you think I am?! I’m not Dad!" She clawed his wrists until he let go, then shoved him aside and ran deeper into the tunnels. This time, Urlich let her go, watching her until she disappeared around a bend. He sighed and looked back to find Jaz standing where Zhara had been a moment before, looking into his face with eyes that were Jessica’s, but not hers at all. Sylph was a few steps behind her but looking past them to where Zhara had disappeared. The others were crowded into the cave mouth, the nosy cretins! All but Xellos, whose laughter Urlich could still hear coming from inside the cave. "Dad," he thought as he collected Jaz and Sylph and headed back to the cavern, "you are so dead."

        In their prison between worlds, Ullan and Zellan set up another game of chess. Since he lost the last game, Ullan made the first move. Time flowed differently here than in the world where their mother hid in a hole in a wall in the catacombs and cried until she no longer had the strength to stay conscious. Here, it was another day, time for another game of chess, time for the game that could set them free. Ullan contemplated letting his brother win, then decided that probably wouldn’t be necessary. Zellan was a brilliant player and would likely win anyway, freeing them both. He could almost taste his mother’s blood, feel her power becoming part of him as he drained her of her life and devoured her heart. Uncle Urlich would be next, then those two kitsune bitches. Jessica…the power of the ancients! Her heart would be sweetest of all. Of course, he’d have to share them with his brother, but that was alright. They’d always shared everything, even the spoils of their raids. That’s what brothers were for.

        The Lord of Nightmares closed her eyes, feeling the seal on Zhara’s children weaken to the breaking point. They would return to the world today, to die or conquer. Perhaps she’d let them live if they defeated Xellos…or not. Xellos was a formidable opponent, though he probably thought he was keeping his true power a secret from her. No one kept secrets from the Lord of Nightmares, especially not a former-human upstart Mozoku. She opened her eyes and smiled, strolling gracefully across the room to seat herself on her throne and light up another cigarette. Smart move on Zellas’ part, choosing the young Zellan to become her Priest/General. No doubt an old lord like Zellas Metallium had foreseen the power her human protégé would have someday, but did she understand its full extent now? Probably. Zellas was one of the oldest lords and hard to fool. She’d accept Xellos’ service as long as he chose to give it. If and when he decided to play his little trump card, the mighty Beast Master would crush him—if she could. Now that would be an interesting battle. Pity he wouldn’t live long enough to play his hand, L-Sama thought without regret. No one kept secrets from the Lord of Nightmares—and lived.
        As for the Sons of Chaos, once they’d disposed of Xellos and his children, perhaps she could find other uses for them. Maybe not. They were dangerous, undisciplined, and they each carried a piece of Shabranigdo inside them. Hm. No, they would also have to die. L-Sama puffed thoughtfully on her cigarette and decided to use Lina Inverse once again. Just as well get something out of the human before the power of the Lord of Nightmares burned out her soul. L-Sama did a little math, tallying up the times she’d used Lina as a channel for her power, felt a brief twinge of regret then shrugged. Ah well, even useful humans had to die some time. But killing Ullan and Zellan ran the risk of manifesting Shabranigdo if they weren’t destroyed completely, with no traces left of their bodies or souls.
        "Sorry, Lei," she whispered, sending puffs of smoke swirling away on the gentle breeze that wafted in through the immense windows of the chamber, "even I can’t keep all of my promises all the time. I’ve given the boy another chance to live—if he chooses to throw it away on the battlefield, that’s not my problem."

        In her lair, Beast Master lay on her bed, her ancient eyes red from crying. She’d even lost interest in cigarettes and wine since Xellos had departed for Marrigan. He thought she didn’t know about the Sons of Chaos and the assignment he’d been given by the Lord of Nightmares, thought she didn’t know about the power he’d gained from the dragons, thought she didn’t know anything! It served her purposes to let him believe he could keep secrets from her, his master. It even served her purposes to let him think she believed his only reason for returning to Marrigan was to screw with that Zelgadis kid’s life some more and to eke out a little revenge upon Zhara. Fool! Did he really, honestly believe she, the mighty Zellas Metallium, one of the most ancient of the surviving Mozoku lords, wouldn’t know he was going to Marrigan to die? Even with all of his power, he couldn’t hope to stand against the Sons of Chaos. Maybe he could convince his children that L-Sama had ordered him to kill the boys, but even with their added power it was hopeless. Only the power of a true Dark Lord could stand against Ullan and Zellan, and even then it had better be one as powerful as Beast Master because the Sons of Chaos carried pieces of Shabranigdo inside them. The only way to draw out the Dark Lord was to kill his hosts. Was that L-Sama’s true plan? To destroy those two pieces of the Dark Lord? But why send Xellos against them, when he had no hope for victory?
        Zellas sat up and rubbed the last tears from her eyes. "I’m a fool!" She cursed herself. "Sitting here crying like a cowardly girl when my greatest and most faithful servant needs me!" Faithful, was he? Was it faithfulness, this keeping secrets from her? Or did he think he was protecting her from something? No, that couldn’t be it. Xellos had been ambitious as a mortal and was even more ambitious as a Mozoku. It was power he craved, and she was just a stepping stone to that power.
        "No matter!" Zellas jumped out of bed and summoned her battle gear onto her body. Time to go hunting! Nobody, not even L-Sama, herself, sacrificed the best minion she’d ever had! Beast Master checked her look in the mirror: Black leather and iron chainmail, boots tipped with steel barbs, gauntlets with steel spikes on the knuckles and steel talons on the fingertips. Zellas Metallium needed no weapons. Her armaments were her brute, animal strength, and the teeth and claws of her beast form. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, the redness was gone. "Forgive me, My Lady," she whispered to L-Sama in her mind, "but I won’t let you kill him."
        She tucked her ancient, iron helm under her arm, and in brief flash of light she was gone.

        "Excellent," L-Sama muttered to herself when she felt Beast Master depart her lair, ready for battle. "Two more pieces, and the game can begin. I do so love chess!"