Visola strolled through LaGuardia Airport, dragging her suitcase behind her. Her flight had been re-routed through four different cities, and she had used a different passport and name for each trip. Finally, stopping in Montreal for the night, she had dyed her hair black as per Vachlan’s instructions, and applied dark contact lenses. She had liberally doused herself with self-tanner, and disguised herself to the best of her ability. All the while doing so, she had whistled, thinking of how much better her disguise would be than the one Aazuria had used to go undetected in Adlivun. She was fully committed to disappearing off the radar until all this excitement died down.
As Visola walked across the airport in her high heels, a scarf and sunglasses concealing her adjusted features, she looked around. Noticing the high levels of security, she smiled happily to herself. Of course. Vachlan’s plan had been to disguise her as an American citizen, thereby ensuring that she would be ironically under the protection of the same people who were trying to harm her. It was a foolproof and flawless plan.
Or was it? The confident stride of her heels against the floor faltered. She carefully paused, scanning her surroundings with a vigilant eye. Everything seemed to be proceeding innocently enough. Keyword, seemed. Visola knew to look beneath the surface appearance of situations.
Something was wrong.
She saw a man walking toward her, and her breath caught in her throat. Could it be him? Could it be Leviathan? How did he find her? His hair was dark and curly, and it vaguely stirred her memory.
“Taranis?” she whispered as the man closed in on her.
The man gave her a funny look and continued walking past her. Visola reached up to grasp the knot of her scarf, just under her chin. Her darkened eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. Why did she have this strange, sinking sensation in her gut?
She looked around rapidly, suddenly feeling naked. She had been unable to travel with any weapons, and there was no one she knew nearby. While she was near the ocean, none of her armies or great, fortified cities were accessible. Visola had the sensation of being trapped on land, with nowhere to run and hide.
She had the sensation of being watched. She began to feel suddenly very hot and lightheaded. Against her better judgment, she reached up to remove the scarf from her head to allow her neck to breathe. She turned around, swiveling on her high heels, examining the people passing by for any sign of threat. Every time a tall man with curly brown hair passed her, Visola had a slight panic attack.
“Taranis?” she murmured, repeating the name of her old lover. The Leviathan could be anywhere. She was not sure why she felt so uneasy, but she knew instinctively that something catastrophic was about to happen. Her instincts were never wrong.
Gripping the handle of her suitcase to brace herself, Visola tried to take deep, calming breaths. It did not work. She felt dizzy and unstable on her feet. One of her ankles began to wobble, and her high heeled shoe tipped over on its side. Visola clutched the handle of her suitcase with both hands, feeling a whimper begin in her throat. She felt completely alone.
“Miss, are you okay?” a security guard said, reaching for her elbow.
“Don’t touch me!” she hissed, pushing him away. The suddenness of her own movement caused her head to spin, and she reached up to touch her forehead. “What’s happening?” she whispered.
An elderly lady moved to Visola’s side, noticing her distress. “There, there, child. Have you eaten anything today? Travel makes me feel woozy too!”
Visola hardly noticed the woman, feeling her heart begin to pound rapidly in her chest. She pressed her hand against her ribcage, trying to calm herself down. All she needed to do was walk out of the airport. If she collapsed here and now, everything would be over. They could search her suitcases, and find the confidential documents she needed to start her temporary new life. She simply could not collapse.
“Is it possible that you could be pregnant?” the elderly woman was asking.
This drew Visola’s attention. That had happened before; her pregnancy had given her fainting spells and dizziness. But Sionna had said that it was highly unlikely she could ever conceive again! A sharp, shooting pain in Visola’s chest caused her to cry out and fall to her knees. Her entire body broke into a cold sweat.
“Call a doctor!” one security guard was shouting to another. People passing by had begun to crowd around Visola, saying kind words and worrying about her health. Someone had picked up her wallet and opened it up to determine her name.
“Her name is Sophia Jones,” a young man said. “She doesn’t seem to have any medical conditions…”
“It looks like a heart attack! But she’s so young… should we get a defibrillator?”
“What do we do? She looks like she’s in so much pain! What do we do?”
Tears sprung to Visola’s eyes. Everyone was thoughtful and genuinely trying to help. The Americans were quite nice, after all—but it did not matter.
She was suddenly aware of the fact that she was going to die.
The warrior was not quite sure how, or even why. Have I been poisoned? she wondered to herself weakly as her vision grew blurry. The last thing she saw was the elderly woman who was hunched over her, placing the palms of her hands together. The woman had begun praying for her soul.
If Visola had possessed even an iota of energy, she would have crafted a stellar joke. She would have told the poor old lady that her soul was tarnished so far beyond reparation that she should save her prayers for someone or something that deserved them. Like a cute dog, or a tub of yogurt. Yogurt, Visola thought to herself in amusement, but the feeling of dread in her heart was too painful to allow her to smile. Will I die here, surrounded by all these strangers in a New York airport? I never imagined that I would die without a weapon in my hand. Will I ever see my children again? They’re so young. Vachlan, Zuri? Sionna…
A blinding pain shot through Visola’s head, and she saw stars. Understanding of what this was dawned on her before she slipped away.
“Calm down, son,” Vachlan said as he tried to make sense of the boy’s furious hand signals. “Are you sure you saw Visola?”
“Yes,” Glais said, “and you have to do something! I kept hearing this voice say over and over: ‘The world will never be the same. When people think back to the day that the world began to end, they will remember this day. I will make sure of that.’”
“That sounds rather cryptic, Glais,” Aazuria said kindly. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a bad dream? I’ve been having many since we got here.”
“No! I can tell the difference. Mother Melusina is my blood relative—these kinds of things run in my family. I’m a clairvoyant—or at least I should be, when I get older and my powers develop a little more.”
“So you saw Visola?” Vachlan asked again. “She was hurt?”
“Yes,” Glais said, “and there was trouble. Big trouble… but I don’t think it was about New York…”
“New York cannot be compromised,” Vachlan signed angrily. “I was so careful about planning that for Viso. Extraordinarily careful. If something is wrong, I can’t possibly get there by tomorrow. She should be safe there…”
“Unless she’s not there,” Varia said quietly.
“What?” Vachlan snapped. “Why would you say that?”
“Listen to his dream, Grandpa! Something is going to happen in Cairo tomorrow, and my guess is that Grandma V either left New York, or never made it there to begin with.”
“This is really conflicting information. I don’t like working on hunches,” Vachlan informed the teenagers. “I need facts.”
“Cairo is less than two hours away!” Varia insisted. “Surely you can go there just to keep an eye on things. Trust me, Glais’ visions are reliable. I know this firsthand. Please, trust me Grandpa V.”
Vachlan finally softened and relented. “Alright, kid. I’m going to head to Cairo ASAP.”
Varia smiled gratefully. “Thank you so much. Can Glais and I come too?”
“Now you’re pushing it a bit too far,” Vachlan warned.
“You could use our help,” Glais told him. “If it’s anything like my dream, you’ll need our help.”
Aazuria and Vachlan shared a look of understanding.
“Glais, you and Varia need to stay here in Atlantis with me,” Aazuria said firmly.
“But Mother…”
“If there is danger, then Vachlan will take care of it. There’s no use putting us all at risk. We can’t all go running off to a different continent every time someone has a nightmare.”
“That isn’t fair, Mom. You dreamed of King Kyrosed…”
“That wasn’t a dream, Varia!” Aazuria signed sharply. “The man was actually standing in my bedroom.”
“This isn’t a dream either!” Varia insisted. “It’s a premonition, or a vision, or whatever. The point is, we need to listen to these types of things.”
“We are listening,” Aazuria said in exasperation. “We aren’t brushing you off! We respect and value your opinions and insights into our work. Vachlan is taking your advice and traveling to Cairo at once. However—both of you are going to bed at once. Is that understood?”
Varia turned and swam out of the room angrily.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Glais told them wretchedly. “Whatever we do, the world is going to end tomorrow in Cairo.”