Chapter Four

The Gift of Time

In a bloody fight, every extra drop is a blessing

Vasilias

Earth/Bliss (Mount Bloom) EarthYear 989

Theoreous tapped Vasilias on the shoulder and pointed to a man coming towards them. It seemed as if he wasn't walking but rather gliding above the ground. He wasn't human for sure but he neither was a Soulment. He looked more like a manifestation of light and was glowing like a star. "Hello, I am Storius. You all have been invited by Lord Antionne. He is waiting for you inside his chambers. Please come with me."

Vasilias and his companions followed Storius along a beautiful pathway—lined by dense trees laden with ripe fruits hanging low— in the middle of another spectacular garden. They turned a corner and their eyes fell on a palace carved into the side of Mount Bloom. It was so well crafted that it looked like a part of the mountain. Enchanting birds and animals—again more light than flesh—freely roamed the unending gardens of this palace. Gilbert swore he saw a phoenix whereas Sherwin claimed to have passed a unicorn. A majestic fountain in the center of the lawn— while dancing to some mystical tunes—shot jets of water toward the sky.

They entered the palace through a magnificent gateway chiseled into a side of the mountain and were escorted into a huge hall—the size of a football field. A series of gigantic statues—more than a hundred feet high—were lined against the imposing walls. Vasilias looked up but he couldn't see the ceiling because it was covered in clouds.

At the far end of the hall, they saw a Malak sitting on an enormous throne. It was hard to tell what was more eye-catching, the throne sculpted out of solid gold and precious stones, or the aura of the person sitting on it.

The Malak—as young as a human in his mid-twenties—was tall, had broad shoulders, sparkling green eyes, and a radiant face. He wore a robe made of shiny silk that had hems embroidered with golden threads and studded with pink rubies. Vasilias had seen Soulments, they were elements in smoky forms, but this Malak was pure soothing light. He was an embodiment of a perfect human—but more like a reflection in water than a body in flesh and blood.

The Malak stood up from his throne to greet his guests. "Hello, I am Antionne. I welcome you into the House of Clouds. Please take your seats."

Storius led the guests to small golden chairs on the right of the throne.

"Are we in Bliss?" Baelor Hardhomme couldn't hold back his excitement any longer.

"Mount Bloom, although on Earth, is counted as Bliss just as Tenebra is Inferna's territory on Earth."

"Are you a Supreme?" Theoreous asked, scanning him from top to bottom.

Antionne smiled. "No, I am not a Supreme. I am Antionne Abernath—the heir of Almanas Abernath, Holy be his name—The Pieteous Primus and the incumbent Lord of Bliss."

***

Mysha

Earth (The Scottish Highlands. The Mainland) EarthYear 1997

Harbux had spent one whole day without turning into any of his annoying avatars. The miffed poodle camped in a quiet corner of Mysha's room and chose to ignore everyone.

"For God's sake Max, you should say sorry to him for calling him a slave and monster."

"I am bad with sorries, you know."

"So Mister-I-Can't-Apologize-for-My-Mistakes needs to find another way to patch up. I am fed up of being surrounded by grumpy faces."

"Okay okay, I get your point. But I have a better idea than a sorry." Max walked to Harbux's corner and sat down beside him. "If the Greatest Djinnnn of Inferna has completed his routine of being as grumpy as a Greybough, I need him to answer a question that has been nagging me for a while. Do you know why Potens aren't born in the same city if they are supposed to work together?"

Wow, Mysha! Max first riles him up and then he goes to him seeking answers. Your boyfriend has gone nuts.

Mystic, he is not my boyfriend. And Max is using Harbux's biggest weakness to patch up with him.

What weakness?

The Scholar's Syndrome aka Showing off. Harbux can never stop himself from showing that he knows everything in these worlds, no matter how pissed off he is.

Surely Mysha, he will not fall for this.

Mystic, you never know.

Max's question was greeted by some silence, then a few angry growls, and then some violent barks but Max didn't budge. He sat there waiting for the answer. "Because Pieteous cannot control the birth process." Harbux finally took the bait. "They do what is necessary to send you down—mind you, that is a very deplorable act in itself—and then the natural process takes over. You enter the queue of the Waiting Souls then enter the available wombs."

Mysha, your Guardian is a fool.

Mystic, every person has his weakness.

And your boyfriend is an emotional manipulator.

Mystic, whatever you say, you have to admit he has some brain.

Max gave a triumphant smile and carried on the conversation. "If that is true then how did our Unseens find us?"

"Your Unseens were attached to you before you were sent down—connected to your Soul before you went into your mother's womb."

"Okay okay, if they can send Unseens to support us, then why can't they provide us with some basic inbuilt info, like how to find our mates? Wouldn't that save a lot of time and energy?"

"You had to be born with clean slates, like any other child, without any previous memories or information."

"Well, why is that?" Mysha asked.

"The only Soul born with all the memories of his previous life became a never-ending nightmare for the Pieteous," Harbux said in a melancholic voice and then suddenly turned into one of Mysha's professors. "My dear students, it is a long story—worthy of a full book—so let us leave it for the extra classes. However, all the backbenchers should know that a person reincarnating with an intact memory was out of the question."

Mysha crinkled her nose. "For God's sake Harbux, I hate Professor Matthews. That old worm is the most annoying person on earth."

"He is by far the most learned man Harbux has met in this era of sheer ignorance. And anyone who annoys you tops the list of Harbux's favorite avatars."

Max stopped Harbux Express from going off the track. "Why can't we just know our mission on this planet, right from birth? After all, that is the sole reason we were sent back. Can someone tell me the logic behind this?"

"You feed chicken to a newborn baby and it will die. Similarly, you had to discover everything, including your powers, step by step, piece by piece, so that you can slowly process it with your growing age. And your Guardians, were always there to guide you."

"Well, I still can't see the bright side of us being born ignorant."

"Miss Mysha, a four-year-old realizing he has to murder thousands of Souls would have been too much for him. That burden would have crushed him. Now picture that kid controlling fire or freezing time just for fun. Although he is a Poten, he still has a child's brain and he neither understands its immediate consequences nor its long-term effects. Imagine the kind of havoc he could wreak."

"That would be like giving an AK56 as a toy to a kid," Max muttered under his breath.

"Since Pieteous can't control the natural processes of birth and death—and nature made you born and grow up as common kids—Pieteous had to ensure that your realization of your true identities, powers, and goals was in sync with your natural growth."

"But wasn't that—kind of—too risky to send saviors without a hint of what they were supposed to do?"

"The Guardians were the failsafe. They were sent not just to protect you, but also to help you master your supernatural talents as you grow and give you every single detail about your mission. They are bound by oath to tell you everything they know—they can't hide anything—when they think you are ready for the knowledge. Besides that, you guys being far apart was a blessing in disguise."

"Will someone tell me how spending half our lives searching for our teammates is a blessing?"

"Master Max, the RightHearts obviously expected their heir to locate his partners much sooner but they clearly hadn't accounted for your levels of idiocy. You are the most dimwitted RightHeart I have met in a thousand years. Harbux is sure Gilbert will be rueing his choice of the person he sent back to Earth." Harbux was in the mood for taking full revenge for the previous day's insults.

"Will someone stick to the point? Why us being apart was good?"

"It ensured that your enemies didn't discover you too early. Else they would have nipped you in the bud."

Mysha snapped her finger. "Well, I think Mister-I-Have-Answers-to-All-Your-Questions is forgetting that I was five when I was first attacked."

"That was because your doting great-grandfather, the Lord of Bliss, went overboard with your protection. He assigned a huge army of unseen to protect his precious heiress—Harbux is surprised he didn't place a couple of dragons at your doorstep. These Souls are mostly invisible to humans, but they create disturbance in other realms that can be detected by other Souls."

Mysha's eyes lit up. "There are dragons in Inferna?"

Typical Mysha question. Of all the things he mentioned only dragon caught your attention?

Mystic, you know I have been fascinated by them since I was a kid.

Damn Game of Thrones. You should have never seen that show behind Alicia's back. Now Mysha, leave fantasy behind and come back to reality. Ask Harbux how many Soulments are around you. And what types?

Well, Mystic, this is the first time you have come up with any useful suggestions.

But before Mysha could ask, Max fired his question. "Tell me why no one has ever attacked me?" He almost sounded dejected.

"That is Harbux's exact point. Only Stokes and a few others were guarding you. There wasn't too much supernatural activity to raise any eyebrows. Whereas the Army of Unseens near Mysha looked like a carnival of Souls. An open invitation for attacks from all over the Mainland."

"How many attacks exactly?" Max asked.

Professor Matthews puffed out his chest. "Many. Harbux doesn't keep a record."

"For God's sake Harbux, don't exaggerate. I only remember a couple. Maybe three if you count that falling boulder on the picnic."

"Harbux is so adept that he doesn't even let you realize that you were attacked."

"I doubt that mister Harbux Braggings will ever miss a chance to sing his praise." Max sneered.

"Next time Harbux will prepare a list of these attacks and hand it over to the most imbecile RightHeart to ever walk the Earth."

"Will the most irritating professor in the three worlds stop diverging from the topic?"

"If you all had come together before realizing your full potential, enemies would have gone for an all-out attack. Keeping all such delicate eggs in a single basket is never a good idea."

"Eggs? Don't tell me someone can't even think of better metaphors."

"Your oddly shaped face and that stench of ignorance reminds Harbux of rotten eggs."

Mysha intervened before the name-calling reached the hazardous levels of the day before. "Harbux, you mentioned a huge Army of Unseens but I can only see a few of you. And for God's sake, Professor Matthews has to go right now. You don't want me to put you into the tea kettle and turn on the gas, like last week."

"Don't tell me, you put him on a stove?"

"Max, Harbux likes bubbling water. I just kept him a little longer than he liked," Mysha said with a mischievous smile.

Harbux was in no mood for spending a few hours inside boiling water, however, he was never short of options to needle Mysha. Mysha's grandma popped up inside the room. "My little cupcake, your great-grandfather has assigned thousands of Souls to look after you and Harbux is their commander. You are a ticket for them to Bliss and the Hereafter." Cynthia said pulling her cheeks.

"For God's sake leave my cheeks alone," Mysha shouted, pulling away from Cynthia's reach. "Why can't I see all the Unseens around me?"

"My little cutie pie, you would have been scared to death if you saw all those ghostly beings hovering around you. From that little fly buzzing over your head to the sand in the timer your mommy gifted you, my brothers hide in different shapes. Some level-ones can't even take a solid shape so they hang around in mist or smoke."

Mysha, the mist in your washroom is Soulments because it is always there. The water that comes out of your shower is also made of them because it just doesn't want to go down the drain. God! All those wicked Soulments have been watching you in showers.

Mystic, don't be gross. The water clogs because of drainage issues.

Believe me, your soap, your shampoo maybe even your clothes are Soulments. The mirror you dance in front of is also a soulment. Beware when you eat your favorite brownie, even that could be a Soulment.

Shut up Mystic. You are freaking me out.

"Well Harbux, you mean everything around me is made up of Soulments?"

"Of course not, but certain things are. And you will have to train your eyes to discern Souls from other things because you will need that in war."

"Don't I need to know all my Unseens to kind of command them?"

"No, my little cupcake," Mysha's grandma replied in her croaky toadlike voice. "For your good, all these Soulments are tied to the Mighty Harbux. He is your guardian, protector, and connection with these otherworldly beings. He listens to your wishes and they just follow his commands. It is his job to see how and when to use whom. You don't need to worry about that. Rest assured, till Harbux is by your side, no one—not even Harbux himself—can harm you."

"And what happens if he falls?" Max asked.

"When that happens, Master Max, that will be the end of this world as we know it."

Mysha came near her grandma and —although her dirty apron always stinked— hugged her. "I know that my Mister-I-Am-Here-for-You-Always will never fail me. My guardian angel has proved that many times."

"Marids are not supposed to be called Angels, but Harbux doesn't mind that."

"Someone hates being called a certain D word but gloats on being greeted with names well above his stature?" Max took a jibe.

"For God's sake Max, we are not starting that Angels and Demons debate again."

"For someone's information, I didn't say the word."

"But you kind of hinted at that."

"Don't tell me I can't even hint at things now?"

The little squabble between the unofficial lovebirds halted when a moving mountain barged into Mysha's room with a box of pizza in his hand.

"Well, you should knock before entering a girl's room."

"Good Heavens! How would I know you guys like doing it at noon? Can't you guys wait till night?"

Mysha flashed her big eyes at Ryan.

"Holy Angels! No need to scare me with those. I will come later if you are that desperate. How long does he—I mean your program—last?"

Mysha threw a cushion at Ryan. "For God's sake, I can't understand why all the boys in this world can't think of anything else."

"I just came to ask that shall I finish off the remaining pizza?" Ryan asked pointing to the last three slices of the large cheese-burst pizza.

Max raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think someone will burst if he ate anything more? That's your third large pizza."

"My muscular body can handle much more than that," Ryan said gesturing toward his huge frame. "And eating is the best stressbuster."

"Let me tell someone that his eating is not proportionate with his stress because if it was, his brain would have exploded by now."

Ryan grabbed another slice from the box. "Demon's curse, stop putting an evil eye on my food. My diet has already gone down."

"Gone down! Thanks Almighty or else someone would have eaten the whole restaurant with its furniture. And you are not muscular—rather a few pounds shy of a sumo wrestler."

"Holy crap! I am just above BMI."

"For someone's information, a hundred pounds is not just. I felt like moving a hill when I was trying to teleport you that day. If you don't stop eating you will soon become an immovable mountain."

Ryan cleared his throat. "Elementals need brute strength to control matter. The stronger their body, the more pressure they can exert on elements. Try conjuring a storm someday and you will know how draining it is. Bless the Souls, I lost almost fifty pounds that day in controlling those winds and rains.

That came as a revelation for Max. "Okay okay, I didn't know the connection between your physique and your powers. You do look a little weak, but it is hard to notice when a few boulders fall away from a hill, you know."

"This excessive exertion on elements melts my flesh. Burns me from within. Breaks down my body. Holy Angels Max, don't you think some extra pounds are better than me running out of flesh during a crucial battle? In a bloody fight, every extra drop is a blessing."

"For God's sake Max, you have to admit that Ryan did an impressive job that night." Out of nowhere, Mysha jumped to Ryan's aid. "And even before that. I mean conjuring waves to divert the ship, fetching rain to put out the wildfire. He has been superb!"

Ryan's chest swelled a little. "Those were the ones that made the news. There were many others."

"Well, but thinking on your feet and using your powers when surrounded by danger—that is not everyone's cup of tea. I can't imagine myself doing that."

"Holy Angels, yes it is not easy but mostly the darklings fled the place after setting the accident in motion. So I faced little resistance."

"Mister-I-Like-To-Be-Humble-Despite-Being-a-Superhero, you kind of saved hundreds of lives. You are a true champion."

Ryan's cheeks were turning into darker shades of pink with each compliment.

"Let me tell someone, one more praise from her and the baby giant is going to blow up like a huge pink balloon."

"Mister-I-Cannot-Live-Without-Poking-My-Nose strikes again. You idiot I was so close to breaking into his mind. Just felt the wavelengths connecting when you spoiled the fun."

All the color drained away from Ryan's face. "Curse the Demons! Why were you trying to break into my mind?"

"Because she is absolutely pathetic in that field, you know."

"Well, I was just practicing. Harbux told me that an emotional connection is the easiest route into someone's mind. And the best way to emotionally connect is to..."

"Flatter someone until he falls for you. Holy Crap! That was very mean." Ryan flinched and turned away.

"My bad, I am sorry," Mysha said making her most innocent baby face to reel Ryan back in. "We are friends and don't you think friends should have some fun?"

Ryan didn't answer the question, rather he grabbed the last slice of the pizza and switched on the television. "Today England is playing Australia. And of late, Kangaroos are just mauling the Lions."

Mysha gave a gentle slap on Ryan's head. "For God's sake Ryan, Cricket? A useless game where two idiots hit a poor little ball with huge bats and eleven bigger idiots chase it around a huge ground. And that too for five days."

"Good Heavens! Haven't you heard about ODIs or T20s?"

"Well, what is that?"

"Ryan, let me tell you—unless you want to pull your hair out—don't try and explain any sport to Mysha."

"Mister-I-Am-a-Bookworm-Who-Wants-People-to-Think-of-Me-As-Cool-and-Sporty I don't hate sports, but I just kind of can't understand the logic behind them."

"Holy Angels, logic? Sports are entertainment. Why would you go looking for logic when you are having so much fun? Anyways, I am following these matches for another reason."

"And will someone tell us what is that?"

"I think I have a clue about the fourth Poten."

"Mister-I-Have-a-Penny-Sized-Brain-in-a-Giant's-Body, you are telling this now? Why didn't you wait till the Reckoning?" Mysha scoffed.

"Bless the Souls, I wanted to be sure. I also need my strengths back before another journey."

"To where?" Both asked together.

Ryan pointed to the television. Thousands of people were cheering their home team in a huge stadium filled to its near capacity. Jam-packed stands looked like a sea of yellow as Aussie spectators cheered their team.

A bowler charged in from the Pavilion End and sent down a full-paced delivery. The batter—a young man with a handsome face, perfectly toned body, and sparkling green eyes—made room and whacked the ball back over the bowler's head.

In the air, another ball is deposited into the stands. What a shot! Superb timing! Brendon Larson is on fire, once again. One of the commentators was going bonkers on the mic.

"This looks like the G," Max suggested.

"G? For God's sake, will you guys speak a language I can understand?"

"MCG—the largest cricket stadium in the world—is called the G."

"Well, where is it?"

"In Melbourne."

"For God's sake, don't tell me we have to cross the Big Sea?"

No answer. Both the boys were glued to the television. The bowler charged in again. This time he banged the ball in the middle of the pitch. It rose dangerously towards the batter's throat. In a flash, the batter swiveled and thumped the ball. It flew beyond the boundary.

A cracking pull shot and another ball sails into the crowd. You can't beat him for pace. He has all the time in the world to hit those balls wherever he likes. Brendon Larson is the God of Timing. The Commentator was shouting his lungs off.

"This is some monstrous hitting. Ryan, I still don't get your point. Will someone tell us what is he suggesting?"

"Holy Angels Max, you are too slow. You see that guy butchering the bowlers?" Ryan extended his right hand toward Max. "Now, give me your tab."

Ryan punched a few words that diverted them to a cricket website. One cricketer was making all the headlines.

The God of Timing: Brendon Larson

Brendon breaks the records in a mind-boggling display of power and timing.

Brendon—and that extra second.

Max's eyes lit up. "God of Timing, that extra second. Don't tell me he is our...."

"Timer." Ryan completed the sentence for Max.

"Let me remind someone, he could just be another gifted sportsperson."

"Good Heavens Max, I have done my research on him. He has had a phenomenal rise in the last two years. Quite interestingly, he always repeats a phrase in all his interviews.'The Holy Five have blessed me with the gift of time.' Time—not timing—the normal cricketing term. Every single time he says the same thing."

"Okay okay, so you think he is reaching out to us with these hints."

"Holy yes! All the cricket pundits say the reason for his astounding success is that he has that extra second to deal with the ball."

"For someone's information, one can't use his powers in sports. That is unethical and too dangerous—you know."

"Bless the Souls! You can scold him for that when we meet him. I have watched all his recent matches, and the guy bats like a dream. But if you closely look from our point of view, you will notice that sometimes his bat comes down at impossible speeds or his footwork is way too quick."

"How can we reach him?"

"The next few matches are in Sydney."

"Hell! My mom is going to kill me if I tell her about another long college trip," Mysha said playing with a strand of her hair that fell on her left cheek.

"Holy Angels! A long trip? I thought our Mover would get us there in a blink."

"Let me tell someone, I can't jump to any place out of my sight."

"So what Harbux says about you is true," Ryan said adjusting his glasses. "You are not a very bright RightHeart."

"Someone needs to stop listening to that old frog. And for someone's information—just like your powers—mine too have their limitations and backlashes. Every MaxDash leaves a wound on me, apart from wrenching my guts. I got seriously injured once when I failed to notice an iron fence in my teleporting path and brushed against it. The vacuum trail I leave behind could be fatal if anyone gets sucked in it."

"Holy crap Max, we are in a port town and Australia is across the sea. So no threat of any metallic barriers or anyone getting stuck in your vacuum. If you can carry us there in a few leaps—we know a jump that long is way beyond your level—that would surely be faster than the ship."

Max looked at Ryan with wide eyes. "Does overuse of someone's powers melt his brain like his body or was he born dumb? I need solid ground to take off and land during teleporting. Will someone tell me how am I supposed to land on the water and take off from the middle of the sea?"

Ryan cleared his throat. "We can work something out."

Mysha's spotlights were again flashing on Ryan. "Well, Mister-I-Am-too-Lazy-to-Travel I would rather prefer a ship than becoming a shark's lunch. Max, I hope your father's travel agency can book us the tickets to Australia."

"Okay okay, that is sorted. But what about your mom?"

"Another lie. What else?"