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Dawn was breaking. The trio had stepped out of the portal onto a rocky outcrop, small stones scattered under their feet as they watched, entranced, while two suns - both smaller than the one they were familiar with - rose up over the horizon that stretched out below.

Long streaks of yellow sunlight flashed, rippling over a low, flat desert plain. Down below, a high reinforced wall dotted with watchtowers wrapped around a series of busy buildings and enclosures, wide gates fixed within the wall’s metal slats opened and closed for access while trucks and lorries travelled along worn tracks within the desert setting.

Past the compound’s structures and walls, sand dunes stretched out, rising up and falling down towards a beautiful blue sea that gently sparkled under the first light of day.

Beyond that, at the water's horizon, stretching up into the brightening sky filled with puffy clouds, was a glimmering arc that went far beyond the scope of their sight.

"The ringed planet," Ember breathed, in awe. “Those are the rings. Look at them; have you ever seen anything so stunning? I don’t know what I was expecting when we opened that portal, but this is far and beyond anything I could ever have imagined. We’re on another world, in another galaxy, in another time.”

Crispin turned to Mortimer, "I saw a line in the book that mentioned travelling to Earth. Your ancestor must have been an alien aardvark!"

The old man simply shook his head in astonishment. "Time travel is one thing, but space travel?"

"Dragons see space and time as their playground," Ember explained, "they exist outside of it as beings made of pure magical energy, never truly living or dying. The dragon who created your family's history tome all those hundreds of years ago must have brought your ancient ancestor here with it to escape the Council."

"My ancestor was a great mage and also a military commander; he was General Warlock. This must be a military base, his military base," he spread a grey hand out at the hubbub of activity within the walls.

Crispin started making his way carefully down the loose rocks, "looks very modern to me. Look at those trucks; they aren’t hundreds of years old."

"That explains the metal room and the star charts on the third floor. General Warlock had a dragon with him, bringing its future tech to Warlock Court. It stands to reason if a dragon can travel through time that they would have items from anywhen at their disposal." Ember's trainers picked up brown dirt as she followed the demon down a stone-strewed path.

"The portal could have put us down there, at least," Mortimer grumbled, using his cane to carefully keep his footing.

"No, no, don't you see? The code is a very precise string of data; this was planned. The Dragon wanted us to see the twin sun’s rising. Wanted us to see the breathtaking spectacle of this planet's rings. Wanted us to walk down towards to the army base. It's like an experience at a theme park, you get scenery and story before the main ride."

"This is NOT Disneyland!" Mortimer grumbled at the thin, poorly-maintained path.

"Ha, instead of a mouse, we're going to see an aardvark," Crispin quipped.

"And maybe a dragon," Ember warned.

Mortimer slipped with a grunt.

Crispin reached out to grab his tweed jacket sleeve, "I got you."

The elder nodded his thanks and allowed the demon to aid his descent.

Ember watched, feeling proud of this supposedly evil human as his true colours began to show. It seemed the longer Crispin was away from Hell - the further he got from that despicable place, the better of a person he became. It took a certain quality to be counted as one of Anar’s friends; fierce loyalty seemed to be one of them and Crispin had only adoration for the aardvark, but he was more than that – there was bravery hiding under the surface and, shockingly, morals. Crispin may fight against them in the name of demonic duty, but he most definitely had them. Anar may well have magically brought Crispin into his life as part of his escape plan but Crispin had benefitted, too, finding a powerful ally in a dark place and an idol to look up to.

She thought once again back to the kitchen and how she had wondered aloud what her purpose was in all this; why had Anar come to her? It hadn’t made any sense, instead of a positive outcome there had been only sadness and regret. What was it that she could do for him? She would never have dreamed that she would help find the Warlock's ancient ancestor on a far-away ringed planet in another time entirely.

What would he be like? Would he be a handsome hero, too? Could he even speak their language? Would he be surprised to see his descendant or was he expecting them?

Mortimer sped up once they were on the flat, desert plain, striding as purposely as his old limbs could allow. His jaw was set with determination on his long face. Sweat sprung on his bare brow under his flat cap from the heat already becoming intense as the twin suns rose bit by bit.

As the light increased, the rings around the planet faded from view. Ember knew she had been right, it had all been timed perfectly. How very like a dragon to put on a show for them.

"He's a sprightly ole bugger when he wants to be," Crispin mumbled, following behind next to Ember.

"I mean, this all must feel like a dream to him. He's admired his ancestor all his life, looked after precious family heirlooms all linked to him, and now he's finally going to meet him face to face. Wouldn't you be excited?"

"Nah, my ancestors were all boring. None of them got stabbed by pointy magical things. None of them had a flipping dragon write all about them in a book. That's proper badass, that is."

"My family have worked with magic for generations," Ember smiled. "I'm carrying on the family tradition."

"I was thinking - and yes, dangerous, I know the jokes - but, if we did date, and only if, I'm not making assumptions, then I could do what Anar's dad did and work Upstairs in the mortal realm. My dad wouldn't mind, as long as I'm working and not being a slacker, and nobody has to know exactly what I do in my job, it's just business when all's said and done."

"I'll consider it," Ember replied, loftily. "If you hurt me, you know what I'm capable of," she pointed an imaginary gun at him and flipped her hand back with a 'bang!'

Crispin's eyes widened, "yeah, no fear!" he gulped, “I’ve seen alright. Those demons were a puddle by the time you’d finished with ‘em!”

The wide gates were closed shut. Above them was a sign that read:

Kaos Army Headquarters

Black Planet

'When the going gets tough, the tough charge extra.'

"Huh. Reminds me of a song," Crispin mused.

"Is there an intercom?" Ember asked, peering at the solid wall for a button or bell.

"I'll give them an intercom," Mortimer raised his stick and banged it against the metal gate, loudly.

A small door within the side of the gate swung open and a guard appeared.

It was a brown rat. A human-sized brown rat. A brown rat in desert-coloured military attire with what looked to be a pulse rifle from a sci-fi movie slung across its chest. There were glowing sigils across the smooth metallic casing and it hummed, quietly.

"My family has a history with rats," Mortimer frowned. "You don't have a stick with three unicorn horns on it, do you?"

The rat blinked and twitched its whiskers, frowning, "no, sir, I do not. Please state your business or kindly remove yourselves from the premises." It tilted its gun ever so slightly in a threatening manner.

The three travellers looked at each other. They nodded to each other in unspoken agreement.

"We're here to see General Warlock," Mortimer stated, proudly.

The rat rubbed its nose, still frowning, "do you have an appointment? The General is a very busy man, sir."

Mortimer looked like he was about to fall down with emotion. "He... he's here," he wheezed. "He's actually here."

"Yes,” the rat nodded, patiently, "you're in luck, sir. He is actually here. I can escort you through to reception, but I will warn you the General is very busy, as I said."

Cameras swivelled, following their every move as they walked through into the heart of the military base.

Soldiers of all kinds of curious races were going about their duties, ignoring the Earth-dwellers completely. Large, small, short, tall, green, black and white. Pointed ears, stub ears, long blonde hair, red mohawks, pierced and tattooed. All in the same modern military attire. All with curious futuristic weapons. All with heavy, sturdy, lace-up boots polished to a shine.

Tanks rolled by. Trucks rumbled. Out of sight, shots were fired and orders were barked, bossily.

The rat took them to a long building with a sliding glass door. Parked in front was an old World War Two Willy's Jeep that looked the worse for wear, made of rusted metal and fogged-up headlights on its grilled front, the Jeep was in shadow from a massive, sloped, all-terrain vehicle with TITAN stamped on the front in embossed lettering. This was very clean and shiny; the dark metal of its body covered in tiny hexagonal plates that rippled with an eery flowing light, pulsing as though it was breathing or beating like a heart.

"Looks like something from Aliens," Crispin said in his usual fearful tones.

"It does a bit," Ember agreed. "I thought this would all be mediaeval and stuff. Swords and sorcery, that sort of thing."

A flagpole rattled in the slight breeze, a flag flying of contrasting black and white at its top. The letters K and A had been arranged to look like the two stripes for a corporal’s uniform, turned on its side. A black planet was next to them, its ring at an angle.

“Kaos Army, weird name… well, weird spelling anyway. Wonder what that’s all about?” Crispin asked.

Mortimer was not taking any of this in, he was heading straight to the reception desk within the building, barely containing his giddiness.

"We are here to see General Warlock," he beamed, leaning on the front desk.

The receptionist was a big green monster with fangs jutting out his bottom jaw and multiple piercings in his pointed ears. "Aren't dey always?" he sighed. "Duh General is..."

"Very busy, yes! But this is important. We have been brought here by a portal from another world!"

"Sounds about right," the green man sniffed. He didn't seem shocked at this revelation one bit. "'Oo shall I say is requirin' a meetin' with da General?"

"He's not going to know us by name, is he?' Ember advised, wisely.

"He knows Warlock Court, though," Crispin announced, triumphantly. "Say we're from Warlock Court!"

Mortimer nodded and turned back to the receptionist, "We're from..."

"I 'eard. One moment, please." He pressed a button on his desk and rumbled lowly into it with his curious accent. There was a heavy pause.

"Dat's what dey said, General, sir. Yes, sir..." he looked back at them. "One looks like you, sir, but old. One is a pretty elfy woman. One is a red 'ooman with wings an 'orns who looks smug an’ punchable. Yes, sir, right away, sir," he saluted the intercom device and whipped his large, bare head back up, looking distinctly surprised. "Duh General says to go straight through." He nodded to a carpeted corridor.

"Thank you," Mortimer bowed.

"Yerr, anytime..." he watched them leave, scratching at his head.

A green door with no window faced them. Nailed upon it a brass plaque announced:

General A. Warlock

Intergalactic Hero

Beneath it was a slider for In/Out but a piece of paper had been blu-tacked on that had the words BIG EARS scrawled over it in biro.

"This is it," Mortimer reached for the handle, shaking and nervous. "They say you should never meet your heroes..."

"He's going to be delighted," Ember urged, gently.

"Think how proud he will be of you," Crispin added.

"Yes. Yes, you're right, he will. I must be brave." He tapped the door.

"Come in," came the reply from the other side.

"That's his voice!" Mortimer hissed, turning the handle, starstruck.

It swung open.

There, in front of them, sat at his desk, was General Warlock; his long grey ears breaking the sunlight from the window blinds behind him.

He scraped back his heavy chair, standing up, his long-snouted face lighting up in the widest beam possible. He reached out with half-gloved hands, almost falling over himself to get to them; his forward-swept grey hair bouncing, his medals jangling upon his black linen jacket decorated with wide red satin trim and blue silk lining. The three golden stars upon his epaulettes shone.

"Monty! Ember! Crisp!! It's you! It's really you!" he rushed to embrace them all, drawing them in with a tight hug, his snout burying into Mortimer's cheek. "I thought I would never see you again! How did you get here? What are you doing here? Oh, I have missed you all so much!!" Tears rolled and he shook, not letting them go, "my friends! Uncle!"

"Anar? ANAR??"

"Yes, it's me," he sniffed, overcome with emotion, "you finally found me!"

Mortimer leaned into the hug, "nephew! My wonderful, dear nephew! I never imagined... I thought..."

"You got old, mate," Crispin marvelled, spotting the lines at his friend’s grey face and the pale grey hair where once had been a graphite shade of youth.

Anar laughed between sobs, "yeah I did, didn't I, Crisp?"

"We thought we were meeting your ancestor!" Ember blurted, looking him up and down. He looked so different, and yet just as she remembered him, all at the same time.

Anar finally released his strong grip and stepped back, still grinning widely at them. "I hope you're not disappointed," he laughed, wiping his eyes. "You guys haven't aged a day, I swear."

"Well, I only saw you last week," Crispin reasoned.

"W-what?" Anar tilted an ear. "Please, sit! Tell me everything! What's Earth like, now? Did the Millennium Bug get released? Is everything on fire yet? Did we finally get flying cars and hoverboards or did the movies lie to us?”

They found a chair each in his spacious office.

"How long ago did you leave the Underworld, Anar?" Ember asked, slowly.

He leaned back on his chair, resting his arms above his head, "Oh blimey, I dunno... yonks ago. I try not to think about it too much. Good times, though, eh, mate?"

"Crazy times, mate, yeah," Crispin agreed, quietly.

"I'm so confused," Mortimer said, weakly.

"We came here through a portal at Warlock Court," Ember told him. "The bookmark in the Book of Warlock was a Gate Activator and the page numbers were a Destination Code. It took us to here, to now. We were looking for you after you escaped Hell and... other people were looking for you. People we didn't want to find you."

Anar looked straight at Crispin, "last week, huh?"

"Yes, mate."

The General’s smile faltered; “fifteen years,” he said, flatly, “fifteen years I’ve been out here. I’ve travelled through time and space for my work, waging wars and stopping them, too. I stepped out of the Abyssal Gate with Rap and Rave and we found ourselves here, at the arse-end of the universe, stranded. Or so it seemed, anyway.” He sucked his cheeks, “So, the Book of Warlock, did you read it, Crisp? I know you understand some Draconish."

He gave his friend an apologetic frown, "I tried. I read some. It was very... muddled."

"Not surprised. That dragon is very muddled. Existing at all points of time and space simultaneously is a bit of a mind-melter, by all accounts."

"Then… you're not our ancestor?” Mortimer asked with a hint of disappointment.

Anar's face lit up once more, "actually, you're going to love this, uncle; actually, I AM our ancestor! What do you think about that, eh? One word: reincarnation. The Dragon brought me back when the magic was restored to our bloodline." He could see more questions forming. "The Dragon was there when the Council took our magic away and he whooshed everyone and the castle back in time by five hundred years. He's clever, sometimes, I'll give him that. And," he added with a grin, "that funny old scroll with all the names on it was created especially so that when I was born again, I got my old name back. Even Destroyer was with me in my past life! That nightmare knew the truth better than I did. I only found all this out when I met the Dragon! You can meet him, too, if you like. He's a bit... odd. Likes tea a lot. Leeches magic off me to sustain his powers. That's how we got this," he spread his hands to show the army base, "and all our fancy toys. He collects weapons. They all collect something, don't they? It's their thing."

Crispin shook his head, swamped by all this information, "that's... barmy, mate, I have to be honest."

"Oh?” Anar wiggled a grey eyebrow, playfully, "an honest demon? Spent too much time with me, I reckon."

"I want to date Ember!" Crispin blurted, "but she's got this thing about aardvarks. She says she loves you - I heard her!"

"Oh my God, Crisp, did you have to?" she objected, embarrassed and blushing.

"Ha haaaa, ohhhh my wife would not approve of me stealing your girl, Crisp, I can tell you that for nothing." Anar’s medals clanked as he laughed.

"Get out of town! Wife?"

"I know, mate, I know, I lucked out with that one and no mistake. You carry on, I never treated Ember right, anyway."

Ember gasped, "you were a poor, tormented soul!"

"See what I mean?" Crispin rolled his eyes.

"I do," he smiled. "Come on," he slapped the desk and stood up, "I'll show you around, you can meet Rap and Rave again. They'd love to meet you, Monty. I have new friends, too, there's Raz - who still works here even though she's technically royalty now, Roland, Atriz, Clinker, Ynskypp... they're all great!" he opened his door, looked down and suddenly roared, making them all jump; "AND YOUUUUU!"

There was a high-pitched squeal of joy and Anar scooped up a small aardvarkian child, placing him on his shoulders and displaying him, proudly, "my little Victus."

"Scare me again, daddy! Scare me, go on!" the small boy gripped Anar’s ears, looking down upon his father’s face with unbridled glee.

"I'll take your toys away, that'll scare you. Use 'em for target practice."

"Mummy says you can't, mummy says that idle threats only encourage a lack of respect for authority."

Anar shook his head, walking along the corridor, "That does sound like something your mother would say..."

"Oh, my goodness, he's precious!" Ember cooed.

"He's a pain in the arse is what he is. Just like his daddy. I’m going to assume Rave let you out of his sights for a few seconds and gave you opportunity to wander off. Bloody dinosaur."

"I want sweets or I'll tell mummy you used vulgar language around me."

"Ok this was fun for thirty seconds, where's aunty Raz?"

"Stop palming me off on aunty Raz!" Victus wailed as they exited the reception area into the heat of the desert.

Rap and Rave the velociraptors were inspecting the latest repairs to the tank fleet, nodding and kicking the vehicle tracks with their boots, their skill and expertise in slacking-off and pretending to look busy being unmatched in their field.

Anar walked into the tank shed, rattling the shutter to get their attention. "Guys! You're never going to believe this, look who's turned up!"

"Grim reaper? About time."

"No, Rave, look! It's Crisp! And Monty and Ember are here too."

"Oh, hiiiiiii!" Rap waved, smiling.

"The wet blanket," Rave frowned, "and your old side piece. Standards of guests are going downhill around here. Where's my little Viccy?" the large green reptile peered around.

Crisp stared open-mouthed at the grumpy dinosaur and his new look. "What happened to you?"

Rave tugged at his bionic eye piece, glowing red, that was attached to his reptilian head via a steel band screwed in place. "Nuffin'! I got an upgrade that's all. We met some cyber men and they offered to give me a laser eye. Well, you'd accept, wouldn't you?"

"Sure," Crispin agreed, weakly.

"See? I got shield implants on my forearms too. Reinforced something or other. Great for bashing!" he gave a noisy demonstration by banging them together. "I'm the Terminator!"

"Mr. Mortimer, we've heard so much about you, sir," Rap bowed. "We've been trying to get a link back to our Earth for years. I always wanted to see Warlock Court. It sounds lovely," he added, wistfully.

"They've come from 1999," Anar said.

"I'm sure it was lovely."

Mortimer looked away, "it isn't. After Anar left for his final year of Infernal College I fell into a great depression and allowed it to become a ruin. There's much work to be done if Anar wishes to return."

The dinosaurs both sucked their sharp teeth.

"This is my world now, uncle. I can't go back to my past when I'm living in the future. I'm only a little bit dragon, you know, the fabric of reality wouldn't like it if I tried to stay. It would be like the business with the sceptre all over again. Everything has its time and its place, and right here is mine."

His face fell, "oh," he sighed.

Anar touched his uncle's arm, fondly, "I have a gut feeling - one of my specialties, they are; that you won't be alone for very much longer. I think you've got an adventure on the horizon. Don't look at me like that, you'll love it! I live an adventure every day and look how happy I am," he smiled a winning smile, straightening his jacket with pride.

A low whinny and thud of hooves announced the arrival of Destroyer who was thrilled to see Mortimer again. They had spent a lot of time together when the Nightmare Prince had slept in the stables while his master studied for Hell.

The old aardvark rubbed Destroyer's velvet muzzle and patted his strong, black neck. "A Warlock and his Nightmare are not easily parted. I'm glad you both still have each other. What about that cat of yours?' he turned to Anar, "I remember it ate one of my sheep. Thought it was the Beast of Bodmin!"

"Guen? He comes and goes as he pleases these days;” Anar shrugged, “he's not bound to me like Destroyer is. I don’t even keep him as a plushie these days, I let him wander between planes, you know what cats are like – never truly belonging to anybody."

"I called Guen!" Crispin announced, puffing out his thin, bony chest. "There was a big fight at your castle and I called for him to help. After I'd seen you do it, I thought what did I have to lose?"

"You??" Rave snorted in disbelief.

"Yup! Me."

Anar scratched his snout, thoughtfully. "Guen must really like you. The real you. I think you should look after him for me, Crisp. I have my hands pretty full here, as you can see. Poor cat probably needs some excitement."

The demon bounced on his expensive shoe’s heels, "really? I can have a magic star-cat of my very own? Wicked!"

"You can keep him," Rap insisted. The large panther had always terrified the life out of him.

"General, sir? Your presence is required in the War Room, sir..."

Anar nodded to the tall, blonde elven lady soldier who had interrupted their gathering with a salute and an apologetic look on her angular, pale face.

"Of course, Major, tell them I'm on my way." He sighed a small sigh, "duty calls and all that. I'll get some of the lads to check out the portal you came through; some fudging of numbers might let me come back for a brief visit at some point in your future. I'd like to see Warlock Court looking its best again. And even if I can't, it would be nice for Victus to experience some of his heritage. It really was good to see you all again."

"It was great to see you!" Ember hugged Anar tightly, feeling the burn of Crispin’s jealous eyes at her back.

The demon gave bionic Rave one last glance, deciding the future was a bizarre place indeed and he was better off back home with familiar strangeness, “we understand, mate. Your guys kept telling us you were really busy."

"I promise you I'll get right on the renovations, nephew, Warlock Court will be as splendid as ever! Though, quite where the money will come from... I suppose I could sell some of my car collection," Mortimer grimaced painedly.

Anar waved a hand airily, "I'll get the Dragon to sort you out, Monty, he's got more zeroes than he knows what to do with, those scaly buggers are never short of cash. Trustworthy, no; loaded, yes,” he winked.

Mortimer held onto his dear nephew tightly in one last final hug, “you don’t know how happy it makes me to see you safe and well,” he murmured, “this has been wonderful, if brief.” With a lump in his throat, the old aardvark watched his nephew leave.

Anar disappeared out towards the main building, walking tall with upright ears, striding confidently, the stars upon his lapels glimmering under the suns.

"I liked his medals," Crispin said.

Rave sniggered, "they're not real ones, the dragon just gave him some to make him feel important; nobody actually rewards him for his work."

He looked taken aback.

Rap nodded, "Kaos Army's usually seen as the bad guys, see. A bunch of monsters getting in the way of those in power. Intergalactic troublemakers, we are. Sticking up for the little guy. Fighting for citizen's rights. Rehoming refugees. Keeping the peace on this world and others. You'd be amazed how unpopular doing the right thing makes us."

"Doesn't it just?"

They turned to see a brown-haired human lady in civilian clothes holding a set of car keys in her hand, "figured I'd save you the walk up the hill. Let's get you home before things either get too exciting, or you learn all our classified military secrets,” she joked.

Ember gave Mortimer a sympathetic smile as she tugged at his sleeve; he was still staring out at the spot where his nephew had left his sight. “Come on Monty, it’s time for us to go,” she said softly.

The Range Rover drove across the hot desert plain and up the rocky incline back to the portal where two goblins with characteristically droopy ears and long noses were scanning with fancy-looking technological instruments and scribbling fervently in notepads.

"We good to close this now, boys?" their driver asked.

They nodded, packing their gadgets away, “yes, Mrs. Warlock, all done."

She bid the travellers farewell, "stay safe, won't you, for Anar's sake. If you need him, you know where to find him," she smiled. "I know how much you all mean to him."

Taking one last look at the alien sky with its twin suns, they stepped through back to the metal room on the third floor of Warlock Court.

Crispin shook his head, "that was the weirdest experience I've ever had and that's saying something for someone who works in Hell."

"Indeed! I need a cup of tea," Mortimer nodded, firmly.

"Dragons," mused Ember, "I never expected dragons. Shame we never got to meet him."

"I'm right here," said the Dragon, looming over them.

"Sheeesh, where did you come from?!" the demon yelped.

The scaly creature gave a toothy grin, "I do have quite a bit of magic stored up from my years of being around Anar."

Ember gawped at his strange dress; black leather jacket, white t-shirt, blue jeans, motorcycle boots and sunglasses.

"I was given this rather unique look by a good friend of mine in his past life. It's unthinkable that I should wear anything different," he explained. He looked at Mortimer, "I used to live on this floor of the castle, you know. I built this room. If you like, I could provide the funds for your refurbishments," he looked at the broken door with a raised scaly eyebrow.

The old aardvark was very relieved to hear this, "I really didn't want to have to sell any of my precious car collection. It's been the only source of happiness I've had all these long, lonely years."

The dragon appeared to understand; a collection was a most important thing indeed.

"You gave Anar a Ferrari didn't you?" Crispin asked Mortimer, cagedly.

"Yes, that's right. I never did like foreign makes," he sniffed, “you can’t beat British engineering!”

The demon decided not to tell the grey guy that his nephew crashed said Ferrari into a wall in a late-night raid on a rival demon's gated residence. "It was a really cool gift," he gulped. "Bit temperamental though."

"Oh, sports cars always are!"

"So… this 'contract dragon' that Anar went to visit in the Underworld..."

"It was me, yes, I incinerated his contract and freed him from his servitude. It comes with a cost, if you're getting any ideas, Crispin."

"Of course you know my name," the demon groaned, "you know everything, I suppose."

"In a roundabout way, yes, I do. I know that Peregrin will not be pursuing you nor Anar any longer and I know that Hell will be a little different when you return."

"Good different or bad different?"

The Dragon shrugged its winged shoulders, giving nothing away.

"Fair enough."

"Now," it rubbed its dry, scarlet hands together, "there was mention of tea?"

"I'm gasping," Mortimer made for the broken door, "earl grey?"

"Splendid! It_ is_ nice to get out of the office every once in a millennia."

And so they sat together and had tea in the conservatory of Warlock Court, complete with a generous plate of assorted biscuits; the single sun high in the sky as they discussed plans for the future and marvelled at tales of the past.

When the conversation turned to the Book of Warlock and its title character, the ancient portrait of Anarchy Warlock was brought down from its rusty nail in one of the dusty rooms above, into the lounge where it was lovingly placed front and centre. They stood back, admiring it; the aardvark mage looking straight at them with his faded blue cape clasped at his throat and sinister dark spidery scar upon his upper chest, his hands outstretched and fingers curled, curiously holding nothing.

The Dragon stepped forward and touched the picture with a knobbly talon, gently. A blue glow appeared. Orbs of power sprang into the portrait's frame, taking their place in the palms of the mage's hands.

"Now," said the Dragon, stepping back to admire his work, "magic has finally returned to Warlock Court, where it always belonged. I hope that you're ready," he bowed to Mortimer.

"Ready for what?" he asked, nervously.

But the Dragon was gone.

"Looks like you're going to have that adventure Anar promised you," Crispin laughed.

"I don't want an adventure!" Mortimer complained. "Travelling to another planet was quite enough - I have arthritis, you know."

"Well, I think we can safely say that ours is finished," Ember said, holding Crispin's hand and resting her head on his shoulder.

He kissed her nose, exhaling, “thank _goodness _for that!"