Jim was out, gone. Back to Earth or wherever his kind went when the Night Rider powers shut off. And that meant Gulutel had a new role: protect him. No questions. No complaints. So he carried Jim on his back like precious cargo while Shæz walked ahead, eyes locked on the glowing star pendant. They were close now. The pull was stronger. But so was the tension.
Being near a Night Rider should've felt like a win, but no. It felt like walking beside a nuke with no safety switch. The mission had shifted: protect Jim at all costs, especially when he was off.
The mud city of Gliansa wasn't helping. Everything was slippery and heavy, the kind of place that makes walking feel like wrestling a swamp. Gulutel's boots sunk deep with every step, but he pushed forward, Jim unconscious on his shoulders.
Then came the sound, something slicing the air above them.
Shæz looked up. "You hear that?"
"Yeah," Gulutel muttered, eyes narrowing.
Wings.
They ran. Best they could, anyway. Not much cover in Gliansa— just flat, wet nothingness. Then water poured down hard.
"Fuck," Gulutel growled, slipping. "Freakin' rain makers."
It was Miteons. Winged boys. Trouble. They didn't waste time. A few swooped down, knocking Gulutel off his feet and sending Jim crashing into the mud. Shæz went down too, hard.
Gulutel tried to rise, but the mud had him half-sunk. Two Miteons grabbed him, lifting him up with grunts. Two more took Shæz. Others circled above. She clutched the pendant like her life depended on it, because it kind of did.
Then she lost grip. The star pendant slipped from her hands, tumbling into the mud below. She screamed.
Upside down, being carried mid-air, Shæz started struggling. The Miteon boys began to mess with her clothes— laughing, careless. One of them yanked at her shirt, exposing her breasts. The wind was loud, but Gulutel heard her scream.
And he snapped.
With one roar, he broke the arm and wing of the Miteon holding him. The creature screeched and lost balance. Gulutel grabbed onto the other one, dragging both of them down.
He was too heavy for one Miteon. They fell fast.
The rest, panicking, followed in a messy dive.
They crashed into Das, a dry sand city. Sand flew up in every direction. Gulutel rolled once, then sprang to his feet like a desert-born predator. This was his turf now.
He scooped a fistful of sand and flung it straight into a Miteon's face, blinding him. Another tried to dodge, but Gulutel came down hard, cracking his skull against the ground. Two Miteons dropped instantly. The others scattered, wings flapping in retreat.
The two holding Shæz tried to lift her again, but panicked. She wriggled free and hit the sand hard, quickly covering herself with what was left of her clothes. Gulutel rushed over, panting, looking around.
No pendant. No Jim. Just silence. And sand.
They stood there... wounded, dirty, rattled—staring back toward the mud city. They had to go back. No idea how. No idea where to start. But they had no choice.
Back on Earth, Jim woke up in Jenna's bed. She was lying beside him ill. Really ill. Pale, quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you check if someone's breathing. He hadn't realized it had gotten this bad. That's why he was asked to stay the night. That, and the fact that she could barely lift a finger, let alone tell him to leave.
She was also very much naked.
Jim blinked. "Okay… not what I expected to wake up to," he muttered.
He gently dressed her, moving like he was handling glass. Then he carried her out to the car like she was sacred cargo, called her parents, and they drove straight to the hospital with the kind of panic usually reserved for bad movie montages.
Jenna was stable now, but the doctor's face had that classic "don't shoot the messenger" look. And the news? Not great. Stage four pancreatic cancer. The tumor wasn't playing fair, chemo wasn't working, and basically, science had clocked out early.
Jim sat next to her, holding her hand. Tight. Like maybe he could squeeze the sickness out if he tried hard enough.
Jenna, on the other hand, looked… fine? Weirdly fine. She was even smiling, which made him feel like he was the one who needed medical attention.
"If your life ended today," Jim asked, "do you have any wishes left?"
She thought about it for a moment. Then shrugged. "I'd say I've had it all. But maybe… a wedding. I've always pictured myself at one. Big dress. Silly dancing. Me crying at my own vows even though I swore I wouldn't."
Jim blinked. "You mean our wedding?"
She grinned. "Well, you're here, aren't you?"
It hit him right in the soul. Hard. Like life was reminding him just how unfair it could be with a wink and a slap.
He wanted a miracle. He'd survived death, seen the impossible. So how much of a stretch was one more miracle for her? But Jenna? Jenna didn't need one. She was already living one.
Life on Earth? Yeah, it wasn't the same anymore. The rain had packed its bags and ghosted the planet, and now everyone was feeling it. Crops were failing, cities were slowly being swallowed by creeping deserts, and every weatherman on TV had the same forecast: "Still no idea, folks. Back to you."
Politicians stood in front of cameras, nodding seriously and offering nothing but the usual mix of buzzwords and blank stares. Meanwhile, meteorologists were just shrugging into their coffee mugs like, "Look, we read the clouds, not the apocalypse."
Water had become the new gold. Lakes were drying up like old sponges, and rivers? Rivers were now national treasures—fenced off, photographed, and guarded like royalty. People were talking about them like lost celebrities. "Remember the Mississippi? Man, she was something."
And then came Mr. Tang. The eccentric scientist with wild hair, questionable fashion choices, and a big promise: "I can fix it."
At first, everyone thought he was nuts. Like, "build-a-rocket-in-your-garage" nuts. But as the skies stayed dry and hope dried up with them, Mr. Tang started to look a lot more like a prophet and a lot less like a meme.
Governments threw money at him like he was the last soda machine in the desert. Soon enough, Mr. Tang was everywhere—on billboards, news shows, even cereal boxes. The man had gone full global celebrity.
But Jim knew better.
While the world was banking on science, he understood the truth. The drought wasn't just Earth's problem. Not really. It was a ripple, an echo from Senedro. Peace had to return there. Balance had to be restored.
And only the Miteons, with their freaky flying magic and rain-making mystery, could make that happen.
Just peace. That's all it would take.