Suzanne Greenburg is young, around nine or ten years old, the bridging point between childhood and the confusion that comes between it and adulthood. She is considered mature for her age, always reading or discussing things with adults in a confident manner. She is mature, but still, she is young...

"Mummy...mum.....the fireplace tried to bite me...!"

"Suzy, I've already told you not to play in there. You'll burn yourself quite easily..."

"But I only..."

"Just wash up and stay away from the thing 'till dinner's ready, dear."

...only a child.

Suzanne Greenburg has only a slight burn on her hand, easily remedied by running water. She does not argue with her mother, cooking and irritable, any further. She knows it will do her no better to disagree than to keep to herself. But she also knows what she saw.

The actively dancing flames, held back by the confines of metal, brick, and glass, were intriguing to the child. Against her mother's wishes, she poked and prodded at the burning logs and their gift of light and heat. They jumped at her command and flickered in the dim coolness of the suburban house...they jumped far and outwards, reaching, lusting.

A face, bitter, angry, and vengeful had formed in the plasmatic embodiment heat, staring at Suzanne for a short time before making a drastic movement. It leapt at the girl with its searing golden fangs, but luckily for her it struck too slowly. The flames only tasted a small morsel of revenge, and left behind the distinct stench of half-burned flesh and a mark on the young girl's hand. This was enough to send her away...but not enough to keep her there.

With childish wonder she returns to the still flaming chimney bottom, her hands washed and itching to play, to touch...to interact. Once more she takes up the heavily clad, soot-colored instrument and directs it towards the blue focus of the flame.

It was curiosity that killed the cat. Look before you leap. Play with fire, and you'll get burned.

"aaaAAAAAAAAAIIIIIEEEEEE!"

Burn.

Elsewhere, amidst the miles of the Atlantic Ocean, even the largest and sturdiest of vessels are thrown about and smashed to debris like so much driftwood by the violent, blue-foamed waves.

In Chicago, Illinois, those citizens used to the weather of the Windy City find themselves blown all about in almost a controlled fashion by vicious wind gusts.

In London, England, a mother finds her screaming daughter in the process of being eaten alive by desperate flames.

But the Bonsai trees of the Orient stay satisfied. And the vast landscapes of Africa are content and loving of their inhabitants. The tiny amount of vegetation in the tundra of Canada finds no contempt for those above it, and the trees of Central Park and swamplands of Louisiana are as normal and carefree as ever. The stars of the Milky Way shine as they always would, planets stay in their usual rotation, and the vacuum of space does not flux.

And in the Black, it is relatively calm compared to all of these places. It bears many guests, and strains to support normal life...but for the moment, it is calm.

The lack of motion and activity is clear in the atmosphere of the Black. Besides its current visitors, which are numbered at ten, and the flicker of the fire with sources unknown, everything seems stale, petrified in whatever time may exist there. All of them can feel it.

"Greetings, Phantom Stranger and fellow elementals," are the first words, spoken by Naiad, within the elemental gathering place. Constantine analyzes them quickly.

"Wot about us, luv? No friendly hullo?" he asks tauntingly, pointing to Doctor Occult as he does so. His question is met with response immediately.

"No. You are not welcome in this place, human, and are only allowed to be here because both yourself and your companion will be ended soon." He is not given a chance to retort.

"We have come... Naiad... You see the power... we carry... Will you now yield?" the Swamp Thing asks powerfully, expecting and dreading the answer he knows is coming.

"We haven't even started the real fun yet, green-jeans," Typhoon boasts, "You know we're serious." And Alec does.

"You are obviously not serious enough to understand the ramifications of your actions, young elemental." The Stranger says, and Corona, creation of Fire, grows angered.

"This is not about what happens afterwards, this is about getting rid of a disease! You can understand..."

"You speak irrationally and incompetently, Corona. Your kind as well as I are to serve humanity at large."

"But how can we serve them and the planet's system of life if they are constantly, gradually destroying us? It is a conundrum we have had to deal with since our creation, and now we have the means to change it for the better."

"That..." Then a powerful interruption.

"There is no more discussion to be had about it. We will teach them. The earth will be pure once more. Now... the children."

Those in opposition wait without a sound for the presentation of their friend and family. From an unseen door or room carved from the material of the Black the two shorter forms appear, slowly and surely approaching the others awaiting their arrival with both fear and anticipation. Gradually they become more and more visible, more and more illuminated by the phantom flame above while walking on a dead and shy ground. Their path is not their own. Tim's glasses reflect the natural light. Tefe's bright hair blows soft in a tiny breeze.

"Tefe....." the swamp god whispers tenderly, then contrasted by Constantine's thick, commanding tone.

"Tim... Timmy. This isn't your type o' gig, boy..... ya can't let a woman suck you into something like this and change you! You were a good one..." The half-angered and uncontrolled look Tim gives silences his teacher.

"I am a good one, John. And I'm doing the right thing. Humans are like lovable little viruses... you like to learn about them until you actually realize what they do." He says bitterly, rousing Doctor Occult to higher fear and shock.

"How can you say that, Tim? You and everyone you love... they're human!"

Shaking his head violently, Tim protests. "I'm not all boy, and not everyone I love is human." His skinny arm finds its way behind Tefe's neck to her frail shoulder and squeezes it with a nervous grip. He is trying his hardest to sound confident and smart... he thinks he believes in this. But John says it's wrong... and... No. This is right. He is sure of it.

The Swamp Thing finally allows himself works to plead with a distant daughter. "I am frightened... and embarrassed by your..... lack of emotion... Tefe! Your mother and I... have raised you... to understand that... we are not..... above humans. Your..... mother herself is... human. Can you... not feel that within... you?"

"The Elementals have taught me to block that out, dad, because it was never enough anyway. I know what's important... Tim is important." She points to her consort, then down. "This is important. You had the right idea in the first place, dad. Kill them all, and be the Gods that sort them out."

Gripping the huge deep emerald body of the Swamp Thing is a wash of emotions... anger, shame, fear... knowledge of the truth? Had he been right to try and rid the earth of its illegitimate children? He is a wise and reasonable being, and he knows this. He knows that this is not right... but there is nothing he can do.

"You know her words to be true, Alec, whether you admit it or not. This is the way of the world... and not the time has come." With a slight motioning, Naiad beckons to the children like a beautiful, forgotten daughter of Neptune. Without an apparent will of their own, Tefe and Tim answer the soundless call and stand at the side of Fire, Wind, and Water.

"You may try to fight us, if you wish. But it is certain that you will lose." Sneering, Typhoon happily taunts the onlookers.

"C'mon... let's make this fun. We have all the time in the world." But the agent of the White is denied his beloved battle as the hopes of humanity hold back awkwardly.

"A wise choice." Says Corona in a blaze of exceeding anxiousness, then turning to the single center of their five bodies Wind, Fire, Water, and a pair of demi-humans circling together in an unbroken chain of fueled, powerful hate and revenge. Lights, more than lights, dance in a sacred ballet on the perimeter of the ring.

"It begins."

Constantine's voice, hear by those left out of the Elemental circle, rings loud and true. "So that's it? We lose... too bad?" For once, the Phantom Stranger sees defeat eminent.

"If it is His will for it to be so..."

But the unwavering floral heart of the Swamp Thing, which has only the function of convincing the elemental he still has one, is still in the right place. He is the wisest of the Elementals.

"This is... not the end, Brotherless... One. I... we are not to..... let this go. I cannot... directly attack them in... this place, and we... would lose anyway. But there is one..... of us with... the correct power to..... aid us." Soon his loudly hued eyes find their destination, as do the stares of the three Trenchcoats, all looking to one direction, one being.

Abyis, who has remained silent this entire time save for tiny grunts of fear, points to the star form that serves as his chest. "Who... me?"

In another place that may or may not exist, there are three siblings who could very well serve as a philosophical debate in themselves. Like any family, small or large, and like any gathering of people, their beliefs are not all of the same creed. Still they try and function as both individuals and as a whole. This is but the inner core of a very important family... two brothers and a sister.

"Guys... this is ridiculous. Everything's under control...!" says the single sister, her level-headedness unprecedented and ever caring for agreement.

"I stand for whatever the book says, freedom or slavery. We are all slaves to what is written. I cannot allow him to go against it."

"This is a matter of our existence, brother. I have the utmost respect for the book and its writings... but surely even you cannot wish for this to pass."

"It does not matter what I wish. The book is beyond that."

"It would seem that you are beyond feeling as well. I, however, am not beyond defending our wellbeing. I will not have another catastrophe... never again."

With those words, their pale brother is gone, and they are left with a moving quiet.

"You guys just don't get each other, do you?"

"It would seem not."

"I guess that's to be expected... you're the embodiment of what is to happen, and he's the embodiment of what could never happen. But I think you're wrong..."

"Destiny is never incorrect, my sister."

"It might be today. We're not slaves to your book there... we're characters in it. And we help shape the words on those pages as much as you help carry its burden. Everyone has that to carry with them. You're the only one who shows it."

And again, a disappearance is made in one of the world outside of worlds, and Destiny and his volume are alone for the first time in a while. This will not last long. Soon the place is empty, fearing whether or not its master will return.

A ring of bellowing, vengeful magic has been formed, confident and surging in its own right around and around in a cycle to build enough bravery in itself and finally fling its newborn form out of the Black and towards the sphere of life, Earth. The five forming this circle have focus only upon their collected energies, three Elementals' greatest abilities coursing round and back to them, the part human plant-girl's own power joining the flow, and all finding a set path to the one beacon-savior for all magic overflow, Tim the Faerie child, whose aura shines brightest of all. And as powerful as this display is, the five are not without peers willing and able to oppose them.

"I... I've never t-tried something like this before." Abyis's usual discomfort is heightened, despite the urgings of the others.

"It is more simple... than you believe to... become a part of... the Gray. Like traveling through... the Gray, you must... learn how to sometime... and if we are..... to have any chance, that time... must be now."

The Phantom Stranger agrees. "You cannot be easily harmed in your own element. The Gray is where you are most powerful."

"We're in th' Black though, PS. How's 'e gonna get anything done form there?" Constantine wonders with a self-indulgent skepticism. Turned towards him, the Swamp Thing answers.

"He will... bring part of the Gray..... here."

The half-finished cigarette falls from John Constantine's mouth only to fall further and further past the nonexistent ground he stands upon, until it drops completely out of sight below. "...Bloody Christ..."

"This can't be completely safe." Claims Abyis, quite nervous at the mere suggestion, and the Stranger finds a way to place a hand on the starry shoulder, staring into the Space elemental's burning coals with completely white eyes.

"I myself should not promise your own or any other's safety... even I am not sure of the plan the swamp god proposes. But I am sure that it is our only hope. You chose to walk this side, Abyis... Does it honestly matter if it is completely safe, when so many lives are hanging in balance?"

A silent debate takes place in Abyis's transplanted mind, freshly given of new hopes and dreams for both sides, and easily heated from either way. It does not take all that long to decide, for Abyis is a noble creation, and tends to finish what he has begun.

"...Okay. I'll do it."

"You are... very brave... Abyis. I will help... you find the way." Alec's massive arms rise in Abyis's way. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I will be."

Hands on what serve as Abyis's temples, the Swamp Thing speaks more gently, with an almost hypnotic tone and phrasing. "Then... free your body... of your essence and... forget all matter. Your mind must flow..... freely and out in all... directions of space....."

"Takes a lotta balls to do this..." John comments as the two defending Elementals continue.

"A crude way to put it... but that's true, Constantine." Doctor Occult says, still eyeing the scene carefully. John waits a bit more before finishing.

"...'specially since this was all cooked up on the spot by a walkin' vegetable."

"Shut up, Constantine." The Doctor says lightly, and John almost manages to smile while Abyis and the Swamp Thing break ground.

"Do you... feel it? The calling force... of your home?"

"...Yes..."

"Then let go... completely..... and leave this form to... fill up the Gray's... void."

Like a rag torn in separate directions by warring dogs, the free-form body of the Space elemental slowly deconstructs to the most base threads of creation. Small planetoids and meteors fly into the still Black while bright stars lose their luster and the countless gasses held inside escape only to separate and join the equation of natural air.

"What...?" Constantine begins, and the Swamp Thing, his job done, turns to answer.

"It is done."

This is different. I've felt this place before... I've seen it thousands of times. It's where I was born. But the way it looks, and they way I feel, and everything... it's all so different and still the same. Almost like I'm looking from the inside instead of out, because I can see traces of similar patterns or just hints of something familiar in something that otherwise seems completely new. My heart would be racing, but my heart is all around me, my entire being spread thin across one plane. I'm everywhere at once, and I can look at myself from a third person perspective for once. Throughout I can feel the deaths of a million dimming and, to others, worthless stars all at once, and at the same time I feel a handful of new suns helping to give birth to infant galaxies waiting to be filled with life and activity. Remnants of the Big Bang, the Beginning, echo in the back of my mind, and I almost laugh at the size of Earth.

The chuckles turn to sonic booms in my void, and I realize what I've done. I'm here. And I mean just that. I am here. I am the Gray right now. And I know that I have to slice off a part of myself and lug it back to my dark cousin, the Black.

But what once seemed a grueling and intimidating task now seems like a worthy and amusing challenge. My playfulness is exuberant and if I had an existing mouth, I'd smile, and my comet-eyes would flare bright with joy to finally realize my place, my power. So I begin the thought process of shelling out a piece of my current state, feeling almost like a real person might ripping off a plaguing hangnail, with lesser ideas of hauling the ectoplasmic section to a foreign but related space. I need to work quickly, if time really even exists here.

"How long will he be?" Doctor Occult sounds slightly anxious, even when covered by a cool blanket of calm.

"If he succeeds... he will... take as long as... he must."

Like Occult, John Constantine is nervous about the wait and for safety, though his is hidden somewhat better through a usual cynical point of view.

"He better get movin', else this is all goin' to Hell, if it isn't already."

Instinctively the four look to the quintet circle, still spindling energies and brewing revenge into the magnifying body of Tim Hunter. It is hard for them to tell how far along the group is, but they are all sure that time is of the essence in any case. Their collective feeling of helplessness throbs like a broken vessel.

Turning away from the circular spellbinding, Constantine places a cigarette between his lips. "God, I bloody hate just waitin' here! It's like we're just friggin' worthless." Finding that his match will not light, possibly from Corona's current focus of energy, John drops both it and the cigarette and hangs his head to see them blink out of place. He notices that he can see the small white cylinder for a surprising while as it drops, almost like it is getting bigger or coming back at him. Soon enough John can see his garbage clearer than when he first dropped it, though now the quickly rising object's tint has turned paler, almost flesh-like, and the formerly red carbon topping looks a shining lime green. The mage remains quiet and watching, seeing the white take form of a flowing robe over lanky limbs and black, deep eyes, while the lit top removes itself to the center of the levitating torso. It is even with John now, and stares into him.

"The Sandman, I presume?" asks the coated blonde as Dream hovers motionless.

"I have many names, John Constantine, many of which you know... it has been long since we last met."

"True enough, mate. Seems the last time I actually got a good look at you was before the funeral..."

"Yes. I trust you have rested better since?"

Quietly and thankfully, John replies. "Yeah... yeah, I have."

Before Constantine's partners are allowed much time to identify Dream's arrival, a small sucking noise begins and builds on itself to be heard over the hum of the Elementals' magic, and the Black itself stretches into a cone-like deformation as a brown-robed man attached to a heavy book enters with a single step, after which the Black's shape returns with a quiet "pop" noise. And yet, there is still another entrance made, though much less bizarre and eye-catching than those before it, and no less surprising. A beautiful young woman, or so she looks, pale and in black with heavy but becoming eye make-up, appears without sound or announcement. She smiles to all present only briefly, bringing a quick light to their hearts, and speaks.

"Hiya."

Floating closer to his sister and the circle, the Lord of Dreams looks over the reason each of them has come. "So...  it has already begun." Destiny, too, walks nearer to his siblings.

"It has begun and it will end as it will end."

"Brother, are you truly so bound that you cannot even fathom straying from the Book for your own safety? No... never mind. I am sure you cannot."

Grimly but without true emotion, Destiny gives an answer despite. "I am no more bound than you once were when some called you Morpheus."

Dream looks to have shaken a small wound, and slowly glides further to the ring.

"I'm sorry," Doctor Occult says loudly for their attention, "But... how did you all come here? We were told that anyone not an Elemental had to be invited, even us..."

Without annoyance but still like telling a child, Dream gives him an answer, looking still at the ring.

"We are the Endless, and we are above such rules."

"Higher than the Holy Rolly here?" Constantine jests, pointing to the Stranger.

"A lot higher than him. You maybe couldn't tell with the way some of us treat each other sometimes..." Death looks to her brothers with a semi-pitying eye. "It's mainly the boys... them and our sister-brother."

Dream has found his way to the spell casters who have remained unaware of all events, including the recent guests.

"Have you... come... to help us?" asks the Swamp Thing with new hope beyond Abyis. Dream does not turn to tell him.

"I have come to preserve myself and my siblings... but yes, I have come to help you as well." Dream watches closely over Tefe and Tim, whose small hands grip each other tightly in a state of suspended action and thought. "A dangerous coupling these two make... but there is also hope within their pairing."

"Dream... do not do this."

"I understand your fear of the Book, Destiny... I share it with you. But this goes beyond that. We do not know what will happen by going against the Book, and we certainly do know what will happen if we do not. I personally will not allow the Endless to end. I am willing to take this chance."

"For once..." Death adds quietly, folding her lean snow-white arms. Without a breath, Destiny responds.

"Then you will do as you must. As of yet, nothing that has happened has been against the book. We shall see."

"We have only to wait for the youngest Elemental."

The Swamp Thing cocks his small hill of a head. "Abyis...?"

Without a nod or word, the swamp god's wondering is answered for all. All but the Endless find shock in the puddle of gray forming in what was pure and foreboding black. Small droplets a golem's clay tears come and go to all places, spreading and increasing in size until what was the Black is large spots of its color dotted throughout the faded sea of the Gray. Those who look above can see two blazing suns blink no matter where they stand. The presence felt by all is familiar.

"Abyis."

"Abyis... this distraction will not stop us." The sudden reappearance of Naiad's voice is expected. It can be seen that the entire circle has dispersed to their own wholes, Tim still elevated and glowing with the donated energy, deaf and dumb to his surroundings.

"If... it postpones your madness..... for even a second..... it is working."

"But it's too late, Al. We've got the kid full and ready to go." Typhoon points back to their avatar of genocide. "We just want everyone to take a gander before saying 'bye-bye'."

Appearing behind Typhoon and directly at the side of Timothy, the Lord of Stories stands loosely in the air. "Silence, little child of the wind. You may have been evil in life, but in your death, you took a noble mantle. Pray that this may lift the blindness from your eyes."

The shine of the green eaglestone hanging from Dream's neck is stronger than ever, reflecting its own inner light. He turns to Tim, full of power and misguidance and young love, and lowly lifts the eaglestone from his pale neck completely. The Master of Dreams plants a final kiss upon its smoothed top, heartfelt but with knowledge that it must be.

The contrast between this kiss and shattering it upon Timothy's head that follows is deafening.

As the Gray had done before, shards of the stone flying in all directions to rip into the Gray-Black mixture and spread their own likeness within. The guests and users of the Black cover their respective ears or grab their heads in pain from the echoing explosion and the inhuman scream from all around, the scream of Abyis. Soon the twirling energy from within increases so much that the humans, Elementals, and Endless have to shield their eyes, all except for Timothy, Abyis, and Dream, who continues to look directly at Tim as his glow finally seems dwarfed by the power surrounding and comes to.

Blinking and rubbing his eyes, with only Dream and Abyis's red giant eyes visible against the bright green glare to his vision, Tim takes a moment to speak.

"I... what happened? Where am I...?"

"You are in the midst of the Space Elemental and the portion of power held within my eaglestone."

"I was in the black place before, with Tefe, and the Elementals..."

"We are within the elemental Abyis, who is within the Black. Those you know are outside of this faction."

"...And what's that... noise?"

"That is Abyis screaming from the pain of omniscience. Soon you will join him."

Tim adjusts his glasses slightly, staring first at the pale face of Dream, then all around him, and then back again. "Join him how?"

"The element of Space unites all living things inside, and everything that makes them what they are. Between everything, everyone, is space. It is a binding web. But Space can only separate and connect on a physical level. My eaglestone contained all the ideas and dreams of Earth's humans, plus a fraction of my own power and life. In releasing it, Abyis was allowed the connection between minds and emotions as well as bodies. Through him, you will feel these things and hopefully will see the error in your ways."

"I've already made my choice..." Tim begins, and Dream hushes him with an unexpected, thin finger to his lips.

"Quiet, child. Stop and listen."

He is without much choice, and Timothy lends an ear to the constant primal belting that seems to have taken all space untouched by matter. Within this yell he only finds unsettling noise, at first. But a child with his destined path and open mind can find ways to hear more, and he does. With time he hears more than one voice. He hears two, Abyis's and a woman's, who is talking to her son about his lost wife, both sharing endless grief for their shared loss, much like the loss that the wife's parents feel as well, having lost both sets of parents before. But in these grievings they, and in turn Tim, find some joy and relief in memories of summers at the lake long passed and still present in their minds. One summer, so many decades before she developed the cancer that claimed her mammaries and life, she had gone fishing with her uncle all day and half of the night, and she came home with a sunburn that lasted a month or more. That same uncle has still yet to hear of his beloved niece's passing, more preoccupied with guilt of things he did when he was only a young man, in a time of love and peace and under the influence of an altered state. He remembers a girl he laid down with in one of those states, flowing hair and unique styles and the same love of self-abuse. That girl, now a true woman, has been married thrice and cannot bear to think of doing so again. She cries herself to sleep every night with that thought, and the thought of her children gone and leaving her alone in the big, silent house. Her oldest daughter does not identify with her mother's sadness, finishing her final year of college with a free conscience and a good friend, a young man who prefers the presence of other young men. The young man once marched in a gay rights march with his former lover, long claimed by a three-letter virus both mysterious and undiscriminating. A devoted husband handled his corpse with care before its cremation. His wife was one of twelve children. Five of those children grew up to be doctors. Two of them still practice medicine in the same city. One of them, thirty-two years ago, brought a woman into this world. And that same doctor announced the woman's cancerous death at four thirty-nine this early morning. Tim just now heard that announcement, and all at once hears these people and their voices, feeling their feelings and knowing their thoughts, dreams, hopes, fears, and shames. It all builds inside him, more so than the Elemental's energy had before, so much that he sweats and spasms in pain and a red hot orgasm as though all the input collected in his head and body would overflow and explode only to spill and start again. But as soon as it began, it all ends, each voice fading and dying out until Tim is left with Abyis's scream and the mother from the very first. Her final words for her dejected son ring true and pure.

"I love you."

Then there is utter quiet. Tim feels groggy, like he has just woken from a light nap, and at the same time feels reenergized. He looks around, still finding green with small specks of Grey and Black peaking through, and sees Dream's dark eyes staring into and through him. There is a sickness to his stomach, not from disease. From shame. From guilt.

".....That..." His voice trembles. "...That was... what....." The word just will not come, no matter how much he wishes for them to.

"Yes? What do you feel? What do you think? What did you hear?"

"I feel... sort of ill. And I think I might be wrong. I think I know I'm wrong. And I heard....." Tim stumbles slightly with emotion. "I heard hope. I heard love."

"Then you have an understanding."

Sureness finds its way to Tim like it was poured into him and slightly past his brim. "Yeah. I understand now."

"I am glad. My task is done, then. I must leave now... my family seeks an audience." The shining Lord of Dreams, finally rid of his first true burden, turns to leave Tim. The Book of Destiny and its accessory, Destiny, come into view, as does Destiny, falling into place with Dream. Tim calls out to them.

"But wait...! What am I supposed to do now? It isn't over..." The three Endless have faded from sight, leaving Tim only with Abyis's sun-eyes and his presence. He hears Dream's dry voice around him.

"I believe you will know what you must do when the correct time comes. Your blind hate for the rooted has been lifted, and destiny has been unbound for you. Follow your heart, Tim, and keep listening. Listen to your dreams." For a second Tim thinks he can hear the remnants of a discussion between the three siblings, though the words do not sound harsh and fade soon.

The emerald hued veil lifts to reveal only dull gray and black, along with the lone table and flame, and those standing by. Tim stands far from them, measuring with the strange sense distance of the Black, and he walks towards them calmly while watching their recovery from the ordeal, which they obviously shared with him on some level.

"What... what the Hell was that?" Constantine asks, always the first to talk. "It felt... I dunno. Weird as shite."

"It sounded like screaming... but it sounded like talking too." Tefe's childishly simple explanation brings it to light easily.

"I though... I heard Abyis's..... voice."

"I heard many voices. Maybe I heard every voice. I cannot be sure." Says the Phantom Stranger.

"Abyis should have only been a distraction... but now the child..." Naiad notices Tim approaching them, and with his current state, sees that things have changed direction.

"Tim? What happened?" Tefe asks him. She comes to his side, bringing her wonderful smell and the closeness of her body to him. He stops with her near the group.

"Someone showed me something. I listened and I heard things. We were wrong, Tefe."

"Wrong about what? What do you mean?"

He takes her by her frail shoulders gently, looking into her eyes, his ablaze with passion. "They brain-washed us, Tefe. They made you go with them... they made you believe what they believe, and to want what they want... they made you lure me into it. And they did the same things to me once I took it."

She almost cries with a denied realization. "...No! Tim, I really do like you... love you... something like that! I came for you because they told me to, but once I met you, I honestly liked you, and I still do."

"And I like you too, Tefe. Or more than that. Or whatever. That's not what this is about. We both know that your dad has the right idea."

"I..."

"We both have our human sides, Tefe. Listen to it." Walls crash down within her, and she rests her sobbing face on his shoulder, held tightly close.

"But we must show man what is correct," Corona cries out, frustrated with failure.

"We are... nothing without man. We..... cannot survive... without them, and... I have told you this... many times."

"I'd rather be weak without 'em than have to live with their constant bullshit!" Typhoon's anger flares but he backs away slightly when Tim raises his voice.

"Didn't you learn anything, you... you bloody idiot? Your stupid revenge doesn't matter as much as people's lives do! There's more to it than just doing it. You have to think."

"Things have been brought to a new light. Still, I agree that humankind should be punished. Their abuse has gone on far too long."

"As long as the majority of the Elementals believe this, then there is not settlement." The Stranger adds. His boundless knowledge is obvious.

"We know... but how is there to... be rest between us? The Elementals cannot... war forever."

"The only way for mankind to be safe is for the vote to be in favor of its survival. These three do not appear to be budging." He motions to the opposing Elementals. "There is but one way to alter the weight of balance between the Chaos and the Order. There must be more elementals."

"Like what? 'Heart'? That's not an element. Not much else that is." Constantine is stared at coldly by Doctor Occult.

"There is much to Earth's balance that you do not know. There have been and still are other Elementals... secondary elementals of an outer circle, such as Quantum elementals and Doll elementals... even Magic and Life elementals."

"It has been... centuries since there were... either of those. Earth has... long been without them. Who... would die..... for these positions?" The Phantom Stranger turns his pure white stare to the pair of children representing a new, different age of the arcane. Tim notices it, and Tefe can feel it on the back of her neck like a hand. She looks up from his shoulder and back towards the Stranger.

"You mean... us?" she asks.

"...Tefe, no. You are not... ready for such..... a task. Your destiny is... to take my place..... as Earth Elemental... when I retire."

"But I still feel guilty. Maybe this can help make it better. And maybe I don't want to be the Earth Elemental. Maybe I want to be something new."

The Stranger takes his stand again. "It is her choice. This transformation would be no accident."

The Swamp Thing looks to his daughter with his sad, sagging eyes in pleading.

"Tefe... you must die first... to become one of us."

"I know dad. I know."

Tim is next, and the Stranger addresses him accordingly. "And what do you say, Timothy? You are already etched deeply into the tree of Earth Magic. This change would be different, and not necessarily easy. But there would still be three elementals against three, and the lock must be broken. Will you take this?"

Tim does not seem to think too hard or long on his answer, in the form of a question. "Will it hurt that much?"

"We all had to die in fires... they should too..." Typhoon says quietly.

"Quiet." The Phantom Stranger snaps at him shortly. He turns back to Tim and Tefe. "I will ensure that your deaths are quite painless, and that your resurrections are soon enough. You have my word."

The two children look each other in the face, staring deeply and then kissing for a moment before walking closer to the Stranger hand in hand, married by fear and responsibility. As the Stranger raises his skilled hands, and the others watch, some indifferent from failure, some frightened, and some confused, the children hold tighter to prepare.

"Relax, if you can. Fear is natural, but for you, it will not last long. If you need comfort, think of your loved ones, and each other, and of the deed you are doing."

Release.

At the heights of a modern golden city, the last son of a dead planet, thrice dead and thrice reborn, flies beyond the reach of gravity. He looks over the cityscape, alive with lights and movement and people, and he smiles. A feeling of pure happiness can be felt over the metropolis, within this prodigal son. His joyous, content feelings transform as his otherwise seamless flight is knocked from its path, and he grabs his head to silence whatever screams within him. A familiar trademark, one of the few things even he fears... and then it is gone. The light rumbling of the city begins once more, as does the constant, metronome-like pulse of life in the big city. The last son returns to flight again, this time, undisturbed.

Below an African canopy and blazing yellow sun, among the assorted lives of the rain forest, a gathering is being held. All around, the petite, female voices allow gossip and discussion to rule their lives. The purple women, each an altered copy of the next, speak of swamp gods, and humans, and the arrival of new allies to the Earth, and to the Green. Within them each, an orchid of blackest night and most purple sage rests, soft and untainted by the touch of man. Their eyes light with a violet hue... the steam from their sockets is carried and disperses into the intricate system of the dangerously vast rain forest... and the Black Orchids know that not all agree on the outcome of the disturbance. Happily, for some, they know there will be others.

The fiery depths of Hell receive word and news as quickly as the Silver City itself. And so it is that those demons and tortured souls watching hold in unanimous cheer, which rests subdued and coal-hot in each of their throats. Among them is the brightest of demons, an elder, rhyming demon, the half-a-man and half-a-demon, whose way crosses either side and both on any occasion. The former demon of Merlin, the one called Etrigan, sees those sometimes friends and sometimes foes. Their paths are sure to cross once more, and then again... but for the moment, Etrigan leaves such matters to themselves, as the making of Earth's new personal champions can tip the scale of balance and chaos in either direction.

On an island of paradise, a different convent of women, mighty and ancient, gather. Their place on the island and in history remains as significant as ever, though the recognition given to them falls short of what they deserve. A queen and her warring princess daughter, both beautiful and darkly featured, sit with the others in relaxation of the paradise. A tie between them is broken by a sudden force jutting into their hearts and home without remorse. Yet this occurrence needs no remorse, as the Amazons learn, a new knowledge found within them that the many sides and faces of the ancient and magical have a new arrival and savior.

One Buddy Baker sits in his quarters at the central place for the gathered team he now takes a part in, eyes fixed on the bouncing images and sounds springing forth from the beloved box before him. A simple act for one who thinks of himself as a simple man, in many aspects. Relaxed, he sits with body fully laid in pleasure, the entire being a single muscle relaxed. In the back of his mind, then at the front, and at all sides, he can sense a door opening and someone young and ripe walking in awkwardly. They have no reason to be so, though, in the Lifeweb, and this, Buddy knows. The possible sight of a stretched, stray torso between him and the television distracts the Animal Man from the most recent addition to the earth's cluttered, welcoming web.

Mothers have a sixth sense about them. Some might say that it is natural, while others would argue that it is supernatural in context. But few can deny the existence of a mother's ability to sense her offspring, and in the case of Abby Holland, those who did would be blind and deaf. The swamp of Louisiana... their swamp... can make Abby lonely sometimes when its empty. but right now she feels relief and anticipation for what she feels to be her daughter and husband's return to an area only they can make home. Emotionally battered, recovering, Abby wades into the cooling swamp water for her family, for surely they cannot be long, such as they are. Her smile warms the coolness swirling around her, which in turn warms her body, and finally, her heart, beating powerfully and without murmur in the midst of a unique lifetime.

Epilogue:

"Abyis? I... want to thank you..... for taking this risk. You did very... well." The lone voice matches the lone body still left in the intermeshed Black-Gray. The Swamp Thing calls again. "I am sure... you can hear me. You... are everywhere. Abyis...? Are you there?"

Wandering like a lost child, the swamp god circles the sturdy centerpiece looking to the makeshift sky, now devoid of its former pair of suns. He stops once he feels a slight rumbling from below him. The Swamp Thing knows that there is nothing truly below him yet he still feels this from below and gradually from all ways. The stillness of the Black-Gray quakes and shakes, twisting on itself and changing right to wrong, normality to chaos. Planets appear and crash together while black and white holes suck in suns and spit out stars' remnants like so much sour candy. From the ocean of madness springs the humanoid shape resembling Abyis's usual form, yet more actively shifting and more elaborate to the appearance. His voice, when speaking, has a new fervor and edge to it, almost as loud as his scream from before.

"I AM HERE AND I AM EVERYWHERE I CAN FEEL EVERYTHING AND I KNOW A NEW POWER AND KNOWLEDGE THAT HAS TAUGHT ME MY RIGHTFUL PLACE ABOVE ALL"

The Swamp Thing is shaken by the outburst and calls out to his friend again. "Abyis... you sound..... changed."

"I AM CHANGED AND I AM FULLY REALIZED ERL-KING THE GRAY HAS GIVEN ME MY TRUE POWER AND PLACEMENT AND THE POWER GIVES ME THE RIGHTS TO THE WORLD TO EVERYTHING TO ANYTHING"

There is a sense of familiarity stirred within the tired swamp god, rousing him to grow and powerfully respond to this strange and sudden corruption of power.

"YOU ARE NOTHING... BUT THE SPACE ELEMENTAL... OF EARTH.... YOU HAVE ONLY THE... RIGHTS GIVEN..... TO YOU AND YOU KNOW THAT YOU..... ARE NO DESPOT... YOU WILL NOT TAKE THIS FURTHER..... IT IS ABSURD... AND BEYOND YOU..... NOW REMEMBER YOUR ROOTS ABYIS... OR YOU WILL REALIZE... THE FULL POWER OF... AN ANGERED SWAMP GOD" Abyis's form shrinks slowly, and Alec follows in suit. The swirling around them slows, calms, then ceases completely, rushing into Abyis's body as he reaches his usual size. In seconds both the Swamp Thing and Abyis are returned to their usual state, and the Space elemental hangs his head slightly.

"I-I'm... sorry, Alec. I don't know how I got like that. It just sort of... took over."

"You are not... the first, Abyis..... and you are not... any worse for... it. It seems... like it happens to... many of us." The Earth elemental speaks from experience.

"The best of us, Alec."

"Yes... it happens to... the best of us."

Returning to their respective colors to go and rest and try to forget the recent events for a short time, they leave the Black as they had entered it, solid and pure, holding its own natural color and attributes, circular wooden table still stout and strong, suspended fire still flickering warmly, slight breezes bringing the occasional cool water droplets with them. To some, the Black might almost seem empty after all it has just experienced. But it is full and weighted with the heavy air of something beyond normal understanding and still as natural as any other element. Magic fills the Black, as it does all places, for magic is everywhere, and it is forever.

I received two very nice letters about House of Magic #3, but for the moment I seem to have misplaced them. They will (hopefully) be in the next issue's letters section. Speaking of next issue, it will not be a direct continuation, and that is the type of treatment for the title that you should expect. Thanks very much for any and all of those who followed me through this storyline and to those who plan to stay longer.

-Yesterday was Friday, and on the fifth day, the day of celebration, the heavens sobbed their pitied tears onto the crust of this world. On that day, a holy man reached his next destination in his quest for commercial sainthood. That day, families and onlookers mourned the dead. Perhaps their attentions were misdirected, because yesterday, something else found its way to Almate, Louisiana under an assumed and despised body-mask. In a bloodied, flaming, bent and shattered single victorious moment of furious, fatal violence...

Jason Blood arrived in Almate, Louisiana yesterday.-