I.T.LUCAS

DON'T READ BEFORE FINISHING BOOK 113!

Lesya Sokolova measures everything. Water, rock, time. She can call a restaurant bill to the kopeck and spot holes in a story no one else sees. So she knows the man who saved her from freezing to death in a flooded cave is hiding something, and she’s almost afraid to find out what it is.

Darien has spent eighty years making sure no one looked at him too closely. Now the one woman he can’t stop looking at is looking back. He can’t keep the truth from her much longer, but telling her risks exposure that could cost him everything, and not telling her means losing her, which might be worse.

Chapter 1: Lesya

"Remember what I told you," Olga said as she packed her things.

Lesya rolled her eyes. "Can you please stop? I heard you the first time you said that I need to bag Martyn like he's some juicy apple in the supermarket."

Olga grinned. "Couldn't have said it better myself. I keep telling you because I have three daughters, and they need to hear a thing thirty times before they actually listen to me."

Lesya arched a brow. "Three daughters? You didn't even tell me you were married."

"I'm not. He left, and good riddance. Nothing but trouble, that man. Likes the drink too much. More than his wife and more than his daughters, that's for sure." She sighed. "I kept trying, thinking a son would make him happy, but I was stupid." She shrugged. "Oh, well. His loss and my gain. I love my daughters, even if they drive me crazy sometimes."

"That's what daughters are for," Lesya said. "My mother and I used to fight all the time, but then my father died, and all we had was each other, and neither of us had any energy left for fighting. We were just sad together."

Olga nodded, compassion written all over her round face. "Sometimes we don't know what we have until we lose it." She lifted a finger and pointed it at Lesya. "That's why when something good comes along, you don't let it get away."

"Yeah, yeah." Lesya laughed. "I know. Bag him."

The nurse opened the door and walked into the suite's living room. "She's doing great, Mister Martyn."

"Call me Martyn, Olga."

"You pay me, I call you Mister. You take me out for a drink, I might consider dropping the Mister and calling you by your first name."

"You are a strange woman, Olga," he said.

"No, I'm just Russian, and we have rules for everything."

"So I've heard." He opened the suite's front door and let the nurse out.

A moment later, he stood in the bedroom doorway. "Coffee on the balcony? Or are you too tired?"

"Coffee on the balcony sounds lovely."

He looked at her wet hair. "Did Tamara get you a headscarf? I don't want you catching a chill."

"I'm good." Lesya lifted herself off the bed and pivoted into the wheelchair as if she'd been doing it for weeks.

Tamara hadn't gotten her a scarf, and even if she had, Lesya wouldn't have worn it and looked like a babushka while sitting on a balcony with the sexiest, most mysterious man she'd ever met.

Martyn shook his head. "You can cover your head with a towel. Make a turban like you did after the shower."

"Not happening, Martyn. Stop being such a mama goose." She wheeled her chair toward him and waited for him to clear the doorway. "Go make the coffee."

"Bossy woman." He tossed her a throw pillow and a blanket, which she caught and put on her lap.

"I've been called worse."

She waited for him to open the balcony door and wheeled the chair outside.

"Lounger?" he asked.

There was no way she could transfer from the chair to the lounger without his help, so she nodded.

He lifted her out of the chair, set her on the lounger, arranged the cushion under her feet, and tucked the blanket around her.

It had all happened too fast, and she missed the feeling of his strong arms holding her and his hard body against hers.

"Thank you," she murmured, smoothing the blanket.

The air had turned colder after sunset, but the sky was still clear, and the lights along the promenade had come on. Martyn didn't look at the water or the promenade. He looked at her for a moment, and then he turned around and went back inside.

A few minutes later, the pod machine started thumping and hissing, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached the balcony.

He came out with two mugs and sat on the other lounger.

"Did your family land in Istanbul already?" she asked. "Have you heard anything from Kelvin or Tamara?"

"Kelvin called. They're already boarding the next plane." He looked at the sea. "You keep calling them my family."

"Aren't they?"

"Kelvin and Tamara are, but the others are just good friends."

"They seem like more than that. Watching you together, I couldn't help but think of you as brothers."

He nodded. "Brothers in arms. That's how I think of them." He lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip, and she knew that he wasn't going to say more.

She'd learned over the six days she'd known him that pushing him just produced a smile and nothing else.

Still, Lesya had questions that needed answers, and now that his family and friends were gone, she could finally ask them.

"I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me honestly. I'm not going to judge you, regardless of what your answer is."

He cradled the mug in his hands. "That sounds ominous."

"Are you going to answer me honestly or not?"

"That depends."

He was the champion of circular talk, and he would keep it up until she got tired and gave up, but he was wrong if he thought she was going to play his game.

"Are you taking performance-enhancing drugs?"

He looked surprised by the question, but he didn't look offended, which she'd half expected.

"No," he said.

"Not even something experimental? Something you got from a lab that doesn't publish?"

"Nothing. Not a pill, not an injection, not a patch. I don't even take vitamins."

She watched his face while he said it. There was no flicker, no glance away, no small shift in the set of his mouth. He'd lied to her before, about the monks, and even though he was a good liar, she'd known it was a lie because she knew more about those monks than he'd expected. When he'd told the story, he'd banked on no one knowing much about them.

He hadn't lied now, though. He'd stated a fact.

"Okay," she said. "So that one's settled."

"That's it? Okay? I thought you were tougher than that."

"Oh, I am tough. But I recognize the truth when I hear it."

He tilted his head. "Another one of your savant talents?"

"It's not a talent. It's a learned skill."

"Really? Did you go through spy training?"

Lesya laughed. "Americans think all Russians are spies."

"I don't think that." He took another sip of coffee, smiling at her from behind the rim. "I only think that about hot Russian scientists with incredible memories for numbers."

She loved it when he was playful. In fact, she hadn't found a single side of him she didn't like. Well, he could be a little less mysterious and more forthcoming. Despite Olga's silly suggestions, Lesya wasn't going to fall in love with someone she knew nothing about.

"What would you have done if I'd told you that I was on some enhancement drugs?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because if the answer was no, I could do something that I wouldn't otherwise."

"Like what?"

She pulled the blanket a little higher, but not because she was cold.

"I'm not into flings, Martyn. I don't have the time or the energy to waste on fun and games. But you said that you were interested in the position of my boyfriend, and that position comes with a drug test. I need to know who and what I'm dealing with."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I'm not on drugs," he said. "I can promise you that much."

"That much?" she repeated.

"Yes."

She believed him, but she still needed an explanation for how he'd been able to climb out of Krubera in three and a half hours and warm her hands in a cave at four degrees. If it wasn't chemical, it was something else.

"What about the academy?" she asked.

"What about it?"

"You started there at thirteen. You said it was impossible to escape. You said they taught you to fight and follow orders and not question what those orders were for. Kelvin doesn't look like you, and neither do Greggory or the others, but you all move the same way. Like trained assassins. You all eat like you've been starved for weeks, and you speak a dead language no one has heard of. I don't know for a fact that the others can also pull off inhuman feats, but I have a feeling that they can. Did they do something to you there? Genetic experiments, perhaps?"

"Just brutal training," he said. "From the age of thirteen until we ran away."

That was an answer and not an answer, the way his answers often were. He hadn't denied it the way he'd denied the drugs. He'd given her one truth and used it to block the way to whatever else was hiding behind his closed door.

"All right," she said. "That's your answer tonight, and I'll take it for now, but I know that you're not telling me the entire truth."

"How gracious of you."

She laughed. "I'm not gracious. I'm methodical. The data will come."

He smiled, and it was the smile from the tent, the one that said he was glad she'd caught him at something, even if he wouldn't say what. She loved that appreciative smile because it told her he liked that she was smart.

She wanted him to come over and kiss her again.

There was a hollow beside her, the blanket folded back where she'd left room, and he must have noticed it, but he showed no sign of wanting to come to her.

"Come sit with me." She patted the spot.

He didn't move.

"Martyn."

"It's late," he said softly. "You've had a long day. The physician this morning, the goodbyes, the promenade. Olga said you needed to rest."

"Olga says a lot of things."

He laughed, but he stayed on his lounger.

Lesya didn't understand it. Last night he'd been the one to close the distance. He'd kissed her with a hunger that had made her feel like he desired her more than any woman on the planet, and this morning he'd come to her with coffee and a kiss and a request for the position of boyfriend.

Now the table sat between them like a border crossing, and he was keeping his hands to himself.

Perhaps he'd thought about it during the day and changed his mind. A month of caring for an invalid was one thing. A month of caring for an invalid who wanted to take it further was another. He'd asked for the title, and she'd told him it was just a kiss, and perhaps he'd decided that she was the sensible one and he should listen to her.

Or perhaps he had looked at her today in the daylight, next to Tamara and Jacki, and realized that she wasn't in the same league.

Lesya wasn't going to ask. She had asked him for a kiss once tonight, and once was enough.

"You're right," she said. "I'm tired."

"Bed?"

"Bed."

He lifted her, blanket and cushion and all, and carried her inside. He didn't hold her any closer than the carrying required, and when he set her down on the mattress, he did it with care.

"Can you please bring the wheelchair over? I still need to go to the bathroom and get ready for the night."

"Of course."

When she came out of the bathroom, she saw through the crack in the door that he'd left open that he was on the couch in the living room again.

So he still wanted to hear her if she needed him.

He just didn't want to kiss her.

Chapter 2: Darien

Darien lay on the couch with one arm over his eyes, listening to Lesya not sleeping on the other side of the door. She'd been turning over every few minutes, and he wondered whether she'd remembered to take her pain meds.

Should he go in and ask? Perhaps she needed a glass of water to take them?

When the turning stopped, he hoped she'd finally drifted off.

As his phone buzzed at twenty past nine, he picked it up quickly before it could buzz again.

Kelvin Hugo, the screen said.

"You're supposed to be airborne by now," Darien said quietly, getting up and taking the phone out to the balcony. "Was there a delay?"

"Not at all. Wheels went up some time ago. I'm calling you from the plane." Kalugal's voice was relaxed, with the faint familiar hiss of a cabin in flight behind it. "The commercial leg was about as pleasant as reporting a failed mission to Navuh. Shamash got us the whole front row, but Darius was fussy, and I had to walk him back and forth through the cabin. Now we're on my plane, Darius is asleep, and I'm having a lovely glass of whiskey."

"Your plane."

"My plane."

Darien leaned on the rail. The promenade was quiet, the lights were still on, and the sea below was black.

"You've done well for yourself," he said.

Kalugal laughed. "You have no idea. The jet is nothing. Kian has two, and he hardly ever leaves the village. I got myself a nicer one."

"Nicer than the jets that belong to Annani's son?"

"The jets don't belong to him personally. They belong to the clan. They also have a cruise ship that was supposed to be a luxury liner, a floating hotel with entertainment, but Kian decided to keep it for the clan's use. They had a wedding voyage where ten couples got married. It was quite lovely."

"The truelove mate couples you were raving about?"

"Yes, and don't make fun of them, because they are very real, and so are the Fates."

Darien chuckled. "So you've told me."

"You're still mocking me. Listen to what I'm going to tell you, and if after that you still want to make fun of me, go ahead."

"I'm listening." Darien shifted the phone to his other ear.

"No one in the clan had an immortal mate for thousands of years, and then suddenly, about six or seven years ago, Dormants started popping up left and right, and each time they were someone's truelove mate. Females and males alike. That's not normal. It wasn't even normal when the gods were still around. Annani says that truelove mates were extremely rare, and now nearly every pairing is like that. It's statistically impossible, so it can't be a coincidence. Hence the Fates."

Darien shook his head. "Why now? Where were those Fates during all the years the clan's people had no immortal partners?"

"I have a theory about that," Kalugal said. "Annani and her descendants have done a lot of good for humanity, and they sacrificed a lot along the way. The Fates waited until there were enough good deeds to make truelove mates deserved all around."

"Is Jacki your truelove mate?"

"Yes, she is."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Do you think any other woman could have convinced me to contribute hundreds of thousands of dollars to the clan's charity?"

"The clan has a charity? I thought they spread knowledge and technology."

"They do, and that's Annani's main goal, but in addition, they fight trafficking. They find the monsters who sell other people, rescue the victims, and then rehabilitate them. Psychological help, education, new identities, the works."

"That's a worthy cause, but I know you, and you are not a philanthropist. You always believed that people need to rise up and fend for themselves."

"I still believe that, but I do it to please my wife and to gain favor with Kian." Kalugal chuckled. "You know that saying about the company you keep? There's a lot of merit in it. I'm surrounded by do-gooders, and they've browbeaten me into doing good deeds. It's disgusting."

"I like it."

"You would. You always had a soft spot for the downtrodden."

"So did you. Otherwise, you wouldn't have helped nearly a hundred of us escape the Brotherhood with you. You would have escaped alone."

"True," Kalugal agreed. "By the way, I've been thinking about your situation with Lesya."

"So have I. I've got nothing, but you were always the smart one, so tell me what you came up with."

"Bring her to Los Angeles. The clan has a cabin a couple of hours outside the city. It's in the mountains, with no neighbors for miles around and no cell phone reception. It's been used before for situations like yours, when a Dormant needed to be told in order to give consent but must not be able to tell anyone else during the process. It's beautiful, with a view, and quiet. It's a place for rest and relaxation."

"There is no such thing as total isolation unless you are hundreds of feet underground. Satellite phones don't need cell reception."

"Naturally, the clan has satellite phones that work anywhere on the planet, but you won't have one, and neither will Lesya. You can even tell her that it's a retreat and that the isolation is deliberate."

Darien closed his eyes.

"You want me to take her somewhere she can't call for help, and then tell her I'm not human."

"I want you to take her somewhere she can't call a Moscow tabloid, and then tell her the truth."

"There are several problems with that. First, she needs a visa, and it's not easy for a Russian to get one."

"Papers are not a problem. I can get you all the papers you need."

"She also needs medical supervision. The nurse comes twice a day, and we go to see the physician every other day."

"The clan has two nurses who can make house calls. Both have been treating immortals and humans for longer than modern medicine has existed. Either of them would drive out to the cabin every day if I asked."

"And if you are right, and Lesya starts to transition?"

"The clan's doctor is less than two hours' drive from the cabin. Bridget, the main doctor, is on maternity leave, but her son has already handled a few transitions, and if he needs a consult, his mother is a phone call away. There is also a third doctor, who's a little eccentric but knows what he's doing. It's all manageable, Darien. Much more so than in Sochi."

Darien looked at the door to the suite, and through it at the dim strip of lamplight under Lesya's bedroom door.

"She might not want to come. In fact, I'm pretty sure she won't. She's already talked about going back to Moscow and resuming her work at the university."

"Then lay on the charm. I know you have it. Let me know what she says so I can make the travel arrangements."

Darien had forgotten what it was like to be in Kalugal's orbit, where every problem had already been solved by the time he noticed it, and every decision arrived pre-made, with logistics attached. On the island, and then during their escape, it had been a gift. Kalugal had thought for all of them so they could stay alive. On the long voyage across the Pacific and during the first years in New York, it had been a comfort.

It would be so easy to let him do it again, but Darien had spent eighty years making his own decisions, and he didn't like the idea of becoming dependent on Kalugal again. It led to atrophy of the brain and spirit.

"I'll talk to Lesya," he said. "And I'll take it from there."

"Fine, but take it from there quickly, because your mother is sitting across from me and staring at the phone."

"Put her on."

There was a shuffle.

"Darien," Tamira said.

"Hello." He couldn't bring himself to call her mother yet, but calling her by her given name also felt wrong.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You sound tired."

"I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind. Did Kalugal tell you about Lesya?"

"He did. I think his idea is good."

"His ideas are always good, but Lesya might have a different opinion."

"I assume that she's asleep?"

"I think so."

"Good. Rest is therapeutic for humans. Also for immortals, but especially for humans." Tamira fell quiet for so long that he thought she was done. "I didn't say it properly this morning," she said. "I'm so grateful that you're alive and free. And I'm grateful that you turned out to be such a good male. I didn't know what I would find, and I'm overjoyed that what I found is better than what I dared to imagine."

"Thank you. It means a lot that you think so highly of me, but you don't really know me. I don't perform acts of heroism on a daily basis. In fact, this was the first time I risked anything by helping someone."

"So you've helped people before."

"Of course. I've been into these extreme adventures for decades now, and things happen. I've saved many lives over the years. This was just the first time I might have been in mild danger."

"Don't belittle what you did, Darien. It's okay to regard yourself as good."

He closed his eyes. "I wasn't always good. I was a mercenary, and I had to do things I didn't want to do."

She sighed. "We all did."

He had no answer for that, so he looked at the sea. "Thank you for coming to find me," he said finally. "Even though I didn't want to be found."

"That thanks goes to Kalugal. I wouldn't have been able to do it myself. I was freed not too long ago, and I'm still finding my place in this world."

He felt like an ass for not asking about her life. She'd been a prisoner for thousands of years, and he couldn't even imagine what that had been like for her.

"I'm sorry that I made everything about me. You've been through so much more than I have."

She chuckled. "I was a wall decoration. Admired for my looks and mostly left to my own devices. My only real suffering was losing you."

"I'm sorry I was the source of your sorrow."

"Stop apologizing. None of that was your fault or mine, and the one whose fault it was is now getting a taste of his own medicine. Go to sleep, my son, and give my regards to Lesya when she wakes up tomorrow."

"I will."

"Goodnight, Darien."

"Goodnight, Mother."

He caught her gasp before ending the call.

He hadn't planned on calling her Mother. It had slipped out, but he didn't regret it. He was glad it had happened like this, with no preparation, because it sounded natural, and he meant it.

Tamira had pined for her boy for over a century.

She'd earned the right to be called Mother by him.

Darien put his elbows on the railing, the phone clutched in his hand, and thought about the woman sleeping inside.

He'd kept to his lounger that evening because he didn't trust himself. One kiss had been enough last night to drop his fangs and light his eyes, and he'd barely gotten away with it because she was resistant to thralling. He couldn't force a thrall on her again, so if he kissed her and the fangs came out, there'd be nothing to paint over the memory with. He'd be forced to tell her the truth before she was ready to hear it and before he had a plan.

She'd thought he didn't want her, and he hated that she'd gone to sleep thinking he'd changed his mind about her.

Kalugal's idea of a mountain cabin with no phone reception, a nurse who visited every day, and a doctor two hours away had plenty of drawbacks. Still, it was an option Darien hadn't had before the call, so it was worth considering.

Chapter 3: Annani

Oridu opened the door for Aru a little after midnight.

The session with Queen Ani had been scheduled for one in the morning, which corresponded to the time of Ani's visit to the temple of the Supreme Oracle on Anumati, but they always met at least thirty minutes ahead of those meetings.

There was nothing to prepare. Syssi took notes on her yellow pad, Kian listened, and Aru did the talking and the listening. Still, everyone needed a few minutes to adjust to the setting and get comfortable.

As Aru entered the living room, Khiann rose from the armchair. "Thank you for coming, Aru."

"My pleasure, Khiann. You look well." Aru took the chair Oridu had placed for him facing the couch.

Kian sat in the second armchair with his ankle on his knee, and Syssi was on the couch next to Annani, a yellow notepad and a pen by her side.

After Oridu had poured tea for everyone, he withdrew.

Polite chitchat ensued, to which Annani listened with half an ear. She was anxious to hear from her grandmother, whom she had not talked to in months.

At precisely one o'clock, everyone fell silent, and Aru closed his eyes.

She had witnessed it many times, and yet it still unsettled her. His body remained in the chair, with his hands on his knees, but his mind traveled across the universe to a temple on a world under a giant red sun, where a young scribe sat beside the Supreme Oracle of Anumati, the revered Sofringhati, and listened to the queen.

Everything Annani said would go out through Aru to Aria, who would repeat it aloud, and the queen's answer would come back the same way, in Aru's voice and Aru's words.

The Fates had strange ways of delivering their gifts.

"The queen greets her granddaughter, and her great-grandson and his mate," Aru said after a moment. "She says that the king kept her away from the capital for longer than she had anticipated. She also took the precaution of not visiting the temple immediately after her return. She waited for over a week so it would not arouse his suspicion."

"Tell her I am relieved beyond words that she is safe," Annani said. "I feared the worst. And please tell her that my mate, Khiann, is with me. He asked to be present."

There was a long pause while Aru repeated what she had said to Aria in his head, and then the answer came back.

"The queen greets Khiann, and she congratulates you both on your second wedding. She says she looks forward to being told the entire story of how he was found. Aria told her the highlights, but she wants the rest of it."

Khiann inclined his head toward Aru as if the queen could see it.

"Ask the queen where the tour took her," Annani said.

There was a long delay while Aru listened to the response.

"Queen Ani says it was her first time leaving Anumati to visit the colonies, and it was a fascinating trip. She knows her husband arranged the tour as a test, and maybe even as a punishment for what he suspected, but she is glad she went."

Kian's foot came down off his knee. "I wonder what she saw."

Aru must have relayed the comment, because he seemed to be listening to an answer.

"The queen says she was shown the usual sights first. Factories, farms, meetings with the governors and with the press. Then the itinerary changed, and she was taken to the outer colonies. The mining worlds. The penal worlds. The places where those who do not toe the line are sent."

"Did she see dragons on any of those worlds?" Annani asked. "Negal encountered them on one of the colonies where he served. He called them a menace, and he said that the king sends dissidents to those worlds to die."

"The queen says he is right. They are a menace. The colonies she visited lose people to them every year. Miners, guards, transport personnel, and sometimes an entire outpost when the dragons come in numbers. The governors report the losses to the colonial administration, but it never reaches the media, so the average Anumatian citizen has no clue what is happening out there. Communication is limited on purpose, and visits home are too costly and time-consuming."

"Typical," Kian murmured. "The media is controlled, and they report only what the king wants them to report. The citizens are clueless until they are the ones who are sent to a colony infested with dragons."

"Did the queen get to see any dragons?" Syssi asked.

Aru nodded. "She says she saw two of them circling a steep ridge. It was hard to estimate their size from that distance, but she was told they were between twice and five times the size of a private transport."

"What do they look like?" Khiann asked.

Aru relayed the question.

"She says they have large wings, long necks, and scales in different colors, and they hate the gods. They hunt them on purpose. She asked the governor of one of those colonies why, and he said that they view the gods as invaders. The dragons were the apex predators of those planets until the gods came, built their settlements, and started hunting the dragons. All the other colonies had dragons at some point, and they were killed off, even though they are very hard to kill. It required a concerted effort."

Aru opened his eyes and turned to Annani. "That is another fact that Anumatians are not taught in school."

Annani thought about the dinosaurs on Earth and wondered whether there was a connection between them and dragons.

Kian leaned forward. "Ask her how many colonies have them."

Aru asked.

"She says she does not know, and that is the point. She visited two. The queen asked the Eternal King whether he is aware of the dragon problem, and he said that he is aware of everything that happens in the colonies, and that they will eventually get rid of the dragons the way they did everywhere else. He also calls them a menace."

Reminded of Syssi's vision, Annani tried to overlay it on what Ani had described. A crown. An island in cold fog. Three dragons over a ridge. Ani had seen two dragons flying over a ridge, and she was a queen. It was possible that there was also a foggy island there.

"Did Aria tell the queen about what Syssi saw in her vision? The crown might be hers, and the dragons Syssi saw flying over a foggy island might have been flying over a ridge shrouded in clouds. Perhaps Syssi's vision was about her."

While Aru relayed the question, Annani looked at Syssi. "Could that have been the case?"

Syssi shrugged. "Perhaps. I remember seeing water, though."

"The queen says it was not cold on that colony," Aru said. "It was hot and humid. And there was no island in sight."

"One and a half out of three," Syssi said. "Given how obscure my visions are, that's not bad."

It was neither here nor there, because it gave them nothing.

"Ask the queen whether at any point she felt that her life was in danger," Annani asked.

The pause stretched.

"She says she is used to that, and the tour was no different from the capital in that respect. She is always on the lookout, and she has people who are loyal to her everywhere, even in the colonies. That is what keeps her safe."

Annani smiled. "She is a smart lady."

"The queen says she has to end the conversation. The king's people are keeping track of how long she stays. She says she'll make contact again next week at the same time."

"Please tell her that I am looking forward to it," Annani said.

Some Fates Can’t Be Changed

A prophecy still missing its final piece, a mystical flower holding an ancient key, and a princess who seeks knowledge but finds destiny.

Driven by a legend of a rare flower with unmatched pharmacological properties, Princess Idrilia pays a terrible cost for her obsession and vows never to risk another life for it. But some quests are impossible to abandon, and the secrets of the Silver Princess go far beyond what legend ever hinted at.

Bonds of love and duty are tested by distance and crown politics, and fate rarely unfolds the way prophecy predicts.

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