Malcolm is so tired. He’s sitting alone, but he’s never really alone. He can tell that Cary is on the run again, that Sasha is sleeping peacefully for once, that Misha is playing politics with the wrong people. He can feel all his friends, all the people they’ve ever touched, all of their points of contact, shifting, moving. Needing. Wanting. ( Read more... )

Harmony frowned up at the golden statue of the goddess critically, hands on her hips. The problem with traveling in time is that people tend to get all kinds of ideas about who you are, what you can do, and why you came there. Especially when you have a habit of walking out of apocalypses and saving people from certain doom. She walked around to ( Read more... )

Corem stuck his head through the shadow underneath the desk. He was looking out onto a murky scene, where gray desert sands swallowed the massive broken black pillars of a fallen city. Faintly luminescent clouds scudded across the purple sky ( Read more... )