That’s when he notices it. The telltale black veins running along Celwe’s neck. Pittacus takes a step back, his expression hardening.

“Why have you returned now, Celwe?”

In answer, Celwe turns back to her Skimmer. “Come here,” she says and, a moment later, a timid girl, no more than three years old, peeks out from the Skimmer’s entrance. She has Celwe’s auburn hair and Setrákus Ra’s stern features and suddenly I’m reminded of Crayton’s letter. Setrákus Ra may call me his granddaughter, but I’m actually his great-granddaughter. There’s no denying it now—not just because Legacy knows, but because I recognize myself in her—this child will grow up and give birth to Raylan, my father.

“This is Parrwyn,” Celwe says. “My daughter.”

Pittacus stares at the child. “She’s beautiful, Celwe. But . . .” He looks at the elderly face before him. “I am sorry, but how is it possible?”

“I know I am old to be a mother,” Celwe replies, a distant look in her eyes. “Fertility is Setrákus Ra’s speciality now. Fertility and genetics, to help uplift the Mogadorians. They call him Beloved Leader.” She scoffs at this, shaking her head. “Yet he wouldn’t see his only child raised among them. So here we are.”

Parrwyn creeps forward, hiding behind her mother’s leg. Pittacus Lore crouches down, waves his hand over the canyon’s lifeless rocks and causes a single blue flower to bloom from the sandstone. He plucks it and hands it to Parrwyn. The girl smiles brightly.

“I will arrange for your protection here,” Pittacus says to Celwe, not looking at her but her daughter. “You can live a normal life. Keep her safe. Do not tell her of . . . of him.”

Celwe nods. “He will come back one day, Pittacus. You know that, right? Except it won’t be like you imagine. He won’t be seeking forgiveness.”

Pittacus touches his throat, running a hand along the place where Setrákus Ra’s scar is located.

“I will be ready for him,” Pittacus says.

He wasn’t.

The vision ends and the darkness returns. There are starbursts of Loric energy all around me. Once again, I’m floating through the warm space that is Legacy.

“What now?” I ask. “Why did you show us that?”

So you would know, its voice replies gently. And so knowing, now you will meet.

“Who will meet?”

All.

Chapter TWENTY-ONE

I WAKE UP IN A LIBRARY, FACEDOWN ON A SOFT carpet, surrounded on all sides by comfortable lounge chairs. “Waking up” probably isn’t the right term, actually. Everything has a fuzziness at the edges, even my own body. I can tell that I’m still in the dream state that Ella created, except I’m no longer in full-on spectator mode. I can move around and interact with the room, even though I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do next.

I stand up and look around. The lighting here is mellow and the walls are covered in old leather-bound books, all of the titles written down the spines in Loric. Normally this would be the kind of place I wouldn’t mind exploring, except that back in the real world there’s one nasty Mogasaur bearing down on me and my friends. Ella assured me that we’d be okay. That doesn’t mean I’m cool just sitting around some astral library waiting to see what will happen next.

“Man, somebody break out the violins for that crybaby Pittacus Lore.”

I turn around to find Nine standing in the middle of the room where there was nothing but empty space a moment ago. He nods at me.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You saw that too, right? The Setrákus Ra life story?”

I nod. “Yeah. I saw it too.”

Nine looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Dude should’ve killed Setrákus Ra when he had the chance instead of getting all mushy with it. Come on.”

“I don’t know,” I reply quietly. “It’s not easy holding someone else’s life in your hands. He couldn’t have known what would happen.”

Nine snorts. “Whatever. I was shouting at him to kill that chump, but he wouldn’t listen. Thanks for nothing, Pittacus.”

In truth, I’m not at all ready to process that vision, especially not with Nine’s commentary. I wish I could replay it back so I could take the time to really examine my home world as it was centuries ago. More than anything, I wish I could see more of Pittacus Lore using that Ximic Legacy. We’d heard stories about how powerful he was, about how he had all the Legacies. I guess that’s how he did it. Seeing him use Ximic got me thinking about the time I developed my healing Legacy. It was in a desperate situation when I was trying to save Sarah’s life that the Legacy manifested. What if it wasn’t a healing Legacy that manifested at all? What if it was my Ximic kicking in when I really needed it, and I’ve just been unable to figure out how to harness it for anything but healing since?

I shake my head. It’s foolish to hope for something like that. I can’t will myself to stronger Legacies any more than Nine can will the past to change. We’ve got to win this war with what we’ve been given.

“What’s done is done,” I tell Nine, frowning. “All that matters is that we stop Setrákus Ra. That’s the mission.”

“Yeah. I’d also like to avoid getting eaten by that big-ass monster back in New York,” Nine says, glancing around. He doesn’t seem at all weirded out being here in this dream state. He’s going with the flow. “Ugh, books. You think any of these talk about how to kill Godzilla back there?”