𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄

Pt 22: The Tiger's Den

Kingston didn't quite understand how he'd gotten here, 'here' being in the back of a magic-hunting crazy man's van, in the span of three weeks.

"Oh," he said, clearing his throat. He didn't know how to take anything anymore. He sat down, blinking dumbly as a million thoughts bumped into each other, causing a traffic jam in his brain that was created by a car crash of emotions. Confusion, anger, relief, despair, and happiness collided in a nonsensical smoothie of feelings. And then they were gone, swept away by a numbness that came as his body shut down with the threat of impending danger.

"So...what happened at the Beacon?" Quentin asked. Kingston barely heard the question.

"Kingston showed up out of nowhere and tried to warn me," Griffith replied, "but I didn't listen and lit the Beacon. Instead of getting rid of Tiamat, it released him."

"And now he's forming like Sauron in the tower," Kingston sighed, laying his head on the backpack.

"Nobody understands your references," Quentin said. The librarian frowned, feeling something hard under his head in the bag. He unzipped it, searching for whatever it was. He found two tissue-paper wrapped packages. Kingston peeled the paper away, pulling out a figurine — the one of Griffith. The other one, to his surprise, was him. It was brand new, the scent of paint still clinging to the clay. A pair of wire glasses was perched upon the nose, the sweater carved with every knitted detail. He was unsure when Atharian had had time to sculpt it, but he realised he must have done it the previous night — Kingston had gone to sleep early. He must had stayed up all night. Why were they in this bag? Why had Atharian known he'd be leaving?

"Where did you get those?" Griffith asked. Kingston handed them to him.

"Atharian. He said he knew you." The Atlantean nodded in confirmation.

"Yes. He was the last human to visit Atlantis before I..." Kingston suddenly got an idea.

"If there are multiple colonies of Fomorians, could there be multiple groups of Atlanteans scattered throughout the oceans, too?" he asked. Griffith's dull eyes brightened slightly.

"There — there could be," he said. The truck suddenly came to a halt, jolting all four passengers. Everything was quiet for a moment before the door opened, Orion standing outside with two robots flanking him. He snapped his fingers once, and the automatons came forward, turning to face each other.

"Come," he commanded. Griffith rubbed his neck, stepping down to follow.

"What are you doing?" Kingston hissed. The Atlantean glanced at him warningly. He was clearly scared of the man. The librarian sighed, hopping down and following close behind. Quentin and Vexx brought up the rear.

"Stop," Orion said sternly. He turned to Vexx. "What are you?"

"A Fomorian," she answered with much more confidence than Kingston thought any of them would have been able to muster.

"Don't have one of those," he replied, tilting his head in his habitual way. Kingston looked over his shoulder at the truck. It was painted with a teapot with a star in the centre along with the words Stellar Tea Blends. A fake company to cover the operation behind it. The prisoners were marched into a building with the same logo and name, but the facade stopped at the door, no hint of tea manufacturing inside. The walls were so white and the floors so clean that the whole hallway seemed to be glowing, making Kingston's eyes ache.

"Give them each a cell, except the human. The Fomorian girl gets a marine tank," Orion instructed. He pointed at Kingston with a gloved finger. "You. Come with me." Kingston crossed his arms, refusing to move.