Prologue
Taking A Chance

"Lift your arm." The instructions were calm and deliberate. Mr. Groening was in his mid-40s, he had graying hair, and his body was supremely toned. He was a master bowman. "Try not to tilt your head — good. Good." He placed the tips of his fingers under Billy's outstretched upper arm and positioned it. "Keep both eyes open. Just like that." Mr. Groening continued adjusting the minutiae of the boy's stance before finally ordering that he should, "loose the arrow."

Billy released his grip on his bowstring, and the arrow flew across the range, toward a bullseye about twenty feet away. The arrow landed, sticking firmly into the target's edge, a reasonable distance from the center.

Billy smiled. "I hit the target!"

"Good," replied Mr. Groening. "Now, try again, and this time, try aiming a little more to your right."

A row of eight kids — boys and girls between the ages of ten and thirteen — were lined up each with their own bows and arrows aiming at their own bullseyes. At the end of the row stood Chance.

Chance Vanessa was eleven-and-a-half-years old. He was about four-and-a-half feet tall [1.35m]. His hair was short and dark, and his eyes were a bright hazel. He was small for his age, but his physique was already starting to show signs of definition thanks to his years of taking archery with Mr. Groening.

Chance was different from the other students in the archery class. First, he was a lefty. Second, he held his bow horizontally instead of vertically. Third, unlike his fellow students, Chance didn't spend any time aiming his arrow or perfecting his grip before pulling back on his bowstring. He would just lift his arms and let his arrow fly.

Mr. Groening gave the students in the class twenty arrows at a time. Except for Chance. Mr. Groening gave Chance fifty. Twenty arrows lasted about fifteen minutes for most students. Fifty arrows rarely lasted more than five minutes for Chance. Most students were lucky to hit within two rings of the bullseye twice during a lesson. Chance couldn't remember the last time his arrow landed outside the two inner circles of the target, and he often struck dead center.

Mr. Groening walked down the range and helped each child adjust his or her own stance. Like with Billy, he offered words of encouragement to all of his students.

When he reached Chance, Mr. Groening playfully swatted the boy's rear end and asked. "Did you miss any yet?"

Chance blushed and shook his head.

"How many bullseyes so far?" Mr. Groening asked.

"Twelve." Chance replied.

"Figures." Mr. Groaning chuckled softly. "Are you trying out to be in the competition?"

Chance shrugged.

"You should," Mr. Groening winked at Chance and started to walk off.

Chance blushed again, loosed another arrow, and struck the target two inches left of dead center. "Damnit!"

Chance stared out the car window, his eyes trained on the trees they were passing along the edge of the highway. He sighed heavily in the back seat, then he smiled contently.

Chance looked toward the front seat at his parents: his mother driving the car, and his father absently pressing buttons on his iPad in the passenger's seat.

Ten minutes into the journey, Chance's father spoke up. "Did you have a good time in archery class today?"

"Yeah," continued Chance's mother. "How was Mr. Groening?"

Chance's face turned red, and he began twiddling his thumbs. "Um…." the boy bit his lower lip. "Mom, Dad…."

"Yes, sweetie?" Chance's mother began, not turning her head from the road in front of her.

"What is it, bud?" Chance's father echoed, not lifting his eyes from the iPad.

"I — I…." Chance gulped and turned his head toward the window momentarily. Another sigh. Chance looked toward his parents once more. "I'm gay. I mean, I think I'm — ." Gulp. " — I'm gay."

"Say that again?" said Mr. Vanessa, as he looked up from his iPad.

"I — never mind." Chance shut his mouth. His face further reddened.

"You're not gay." Mrs. Vanessa turned her head around to look at her son. "You're too young to know that. You're just confu — "

CRASH!

Chance saw black…

…He faded in and out of consciousness.

Chance's long-term memory seemed to flicker on and off for the next week. Only bits and pieces of what happened remained. Metal frames of cars collapsing in on him. Fluorescent lights on a hospital ceiling humming above him. Social workers talking to him. Two caskets descending into the ground at a funeral….

Chapter 1
Countdown

"Yī…èr…sān!" Sifu Li counted out in Mandarin. On either side of a large, blue mat stood two boys: Wesley and Milo.

Wesley Rhodes was a few weeks shy of twelve. He was a short black boy with skin the color of honey. His hair was buzzed at the sides; it tapered to longer at the top, fading from black into a dyed, sunshine color. His eyes were a mesmerizing emerald.

Milo Hester-Morgan was also eleven, nearly-twelve. Milo was short and toned like Wesley, but their physical similarities stopped there. He was a white boy with shaggy red hair that contrasted oddly with his tan skin devoid of freckles. His eyes were a deep brown.

Once the Sifu gave the signal, both boys began charging at one another. Milo launched into a jump kick which was promptly dodged by Wesley. No sooner had Milo landed back on the mat than Wesley swept his foot under the redhead's ankles, causing Milo to lose his footing.

Milo rolled back into a standing position and ran at Wesley again, this time throwing punches. Wesley dodged one blow and caught the other, twisting Milo's wrist as he countered with a kick to Milo's stomach. Once he recovered, Milo kicked Wesley; Wesley caught Milo's heel and flipped the boy backward.

The match continued in much the same fashion for another couple minutes: Milo attacking Wesley, and Wesley effortlessly dodging and countering each of Milo's punches and kicks.

The battle ended when Wesley went on the offensive. He grabbed Milo about the waist, swept the boy's legs, and pinned him to the blue mat.

The Sifu applauded. "Great job, boys!"

The rest of the class — about twenty-five boys and girls between the ages of ten and thirteen — applauded as well, though not as enthusiastically as the Sifu.

Wesley reached down and helped Milo to his feet. "That was an awesome jump kick." Wesley grinned.

"Thanks. You were amazing!" Milo shrugged. "Next time, though, I want to spar with my staff."

Wesley chuckled. "Good thing I won the coin toss. I'm not dumb enough to fight you when you have a staff!"

The Sifu approached the boys. "Alright, Wesley, you've advanced to the final round."

Wesley nodded. "Damn right, I did."

"Take a break," the Sifu continued. "But in five minutes, you'll be up against Jackson."

Sifu Li turned to Milo. "You get to choose how they'll fight."

"Staffs," Milo replied without missing a beat. "They can fight with staffs."

Jackson Poe — like Milo and Wesley — was a short, almost-twelve-year old boy. He had slightly curly, medium brown hair. And, in contrast with his Hispanic heritage, Jackson's eyes were a vibrant cerulean blue framed by thick glasses.

Jackson had been sitting on a nearby bench, watching the match between Milo and Wesley. He was recovering from a rough sparring match with Tyler Wilson: Both Jackson and Tyler had fought using a wooden practice jian. The two swords still laid on the bench next to Jackson.

Milo approached Jackson with a wooden staff just an inch or two shorter than either of the boys. "You ready? Your fight with Tyler was brutal!"

"I'm almost all better. I heal fast." Jackson smiled. "I'm ready to go up against Wesley."

"Good luck," said Milo. "You'll do great."

Wesley and Jackson positioned themselves on opposite sides of the blue, padded mat, each brandishing a four-and-a-half foot tall wooden staff.

Sifu Li stood in the middle of the mat, halfway between the two boys. "Yī…èr…sān!"

Wesley and Jackson eyed one another from across the room then started running at one another. Midway through his charge, Wesley planted one end of his staff into the mat while gripping the other end of the weapon firmly with both hands. The pole bowed slightly, and Wesley used its momentum to vault himself into a flying kick.

Jackson ducked under Wesley's kick and swept Wesley's staff out from under him. Wesley crashed to the ground, his fall cushioned by the mat.

"Ow!" Wesley shouted out before rolling back into a standing position. Wesley ran at Jackson again, aiming one end of the staff at Jackson's ankles.

Jackson looked down and jumped over Wesley's staff.

But Wesley kept swinging, spinning around and raising his staff as he did so. And, before he hit the ground after his jump, the other end of Wesley's staff struck Jackson square in the stomach, tossing him back a foot-and-a-half.

Jackson groaned, leaning on his staff as he stood back up.

Wesley charged at Jackson again. He swung his staff at the other boy twice.

Jackson knocked out of the way the first strike with his own staff, catching the second strike in the palm of his hand. He pushed Wesley's staff backward roughly thrusting it against the boy's shoulder and knocking Wesley to the ground.

Wesley dropped his staff as he landed on the mat. He growled as he launched himself back into a standing position. He didn't pick up his weapon. Instead, Wesley curled his hands into fists and ran at his opponent intent on fighting unarmed.

Wesley did not hold back. Without a staff in his hand, he found it easier to dodge Jackson's strikes and swings. He quickly gained the upper hand, kneeing his opponent's stomach, sweeping his ankles, and throwing Jackson to the ground.

"No fair," complained Jackson as he regained his balance. "We're supposed to be fighting with staffs!"

"Who says I can't ditch my weapon?" Wesley asked as he charged at Jackson.

"Fine, then!" Jackson tossed his staff at Wesley, knocking the other boy off balance. And, while Wesley recovered, Jackson ran to the nearby bench and picked up the swords he and Tyler had sparred with only twenty minutes prior.

Jackson ran at Wesley brandishing dual, wooden jians. He swung the swords together as if wielding a single weapon. He struck Wesley's sides with the practice swords.

"Ow," Wesley grumbled. He held his sides with one hand, while he punched Jackson with the other. His fist struck Jackson in the neck.

"The hell, dude!" Jackson swung both swords harder at Wesley.

Wesley ran backward at first, ducking below the swords, then uppercutting Jackson as he rebounded.

Jackson replied by striking Wesley hard, upside the head with a sword.

The two boys traded blow-after-blow at one another, neither seeming to gain the upper hand. And with each strike, their faces would redden. The match grew to the outer edges of the mat, each boy hoping to force the other out-of-bounds.

Jackson swung his swords again, aiming for Wesley's head. Wesley crouched to the floor and punched at Jackson's thigh.

"Figures the fag would aim for the dick," Tyler's voice boomed from the sidelines.

Wesley turned his head in the direction of Tyler's voice. Wesley turned just long enough for Jackson to plant his foot on the small of his back. Jackson descended until he was kneeling on Wesley and using his swords to pin the boy.

Sifu Li called the match for Jackson.

Jackson attempted to help Wesley to his feet, but Wesley launched himself into a standing position before Jackson could fully reach down.

Wesley ran at Tyler, his fists tightening, and his nose snarling.

"Dude!" Jackson yelled, running after Wesley.

"You take that back!" Wesley shouted.

"Take what back, faggot?" Tyler's chuckle ended when Wesley punched him square in the jaw. "You son of a bitch!" Tyler groaned preparing to punch Wesley back.

Wesley dodged Tyler's fist with ease.

"Woah!" Milo appeared from the crowd of students and tried to grab Tyler from behind.

Tyler turned around and tossed Milo as he approached.

Wesley pulled back his fist ready to strike again when he felt something hard against his neck: Jackson's wooden sword.

"Stop it!" Jackson shouted. "Don't be a bully!"

"He's the bully!" Wesley replied motioning at Tyler.

"Don't answer words with violence." Jackson admonished.

Sifu Li approached the commotion, "That's enough!"

Wesley's eyes reddened. He groaned and pushed Jackson away. He ran to the other side of the studio and exited into the locker room.

"How're you doing, Chance?" Tammy Bluff, Chance's social worker, asked. "How's everything going?"

Chance shrugged and looked away, sinking further into the couch.

"How're the Studebakers? Treating you well?" Tammy continued.

"They're okay," Chance said.

"Not clicking yet?" Tammy asked.

"Yeah — maybe." Chance furrowed his eyebrows. "I dunno. I never had foster parents before."

"It's been almost six months, Chance. You should have some idea by now." Tammy folded her hands.

Chance said nothing.

"How's school going?"

"Fine." Chance replied.

"Have you made friends yet?" Tammy asked.

Chance shrugged.

"Can you tell me anything, Chance? Work with me here." Tammy pleaded. "I know it's hard, but talking about what you're going through might help."

"They died because of me." Chance widened his eyes, refusing to blink.

"No — no," Tammy said. "It's not your fault."

Chance looked away and wiped his eyes.

"Look at me, Chance," Tammy instructed. "It's not your fault. Coming out of the closet didn't kill your parents. What happened is — "

" — I miss archery," Chance asserted abruptly.

Tammy sighed. "Have you gone to that Kung Fu class I suggested?"

"No." Chance replied in a monotone.

"You know it's just for foster kids, right?"

"I remember," Chance answered.

"You might find it easier to cope if you can talk with another kid who's been through something similar," Tammy suggested.

Chance didn't answer.

Tammy breathed heavily. "There's a summer camp I want you to go to, Chance."

"I don't want to — "

" — I'm not giving you a choice here, Chance," Tammy cleared her throat. "It's for your wellbeing."

Chance focused a stare on Tammy but said nothing.

"It's volunteer-run; state-funded. Just for foster boys. I want you to make friends with other kids who are going through what you're going through." Tammy was firm.

Chance exhaled, "I don't — "

" — have a choice," Tammy finished his sentence. "I'm signing you up."

Chance just stared.

"You'll have a great time." Tammy forced a grin. "There's another boy I know who'll be going there: Milo. I think you'll get along with him.."

Chapter 2
Camp Ozland

"Robert Appleby…?" the counselor at the front of the bus began roll call.

"It's 'Bobby,'" replied a boy, about thirteen-years-old.

There were about thirty boys on the packed bus. All of them between the ages of ten and fourteen. Chance sat near the back, looking out the window.

The counselor smiled. ". . . Michael Donoghue…?"

"Present!" A ten-year-old boy shouted.

". . . Milo Hester-Morgan…?"

"'Sup?" Milo replied from the seat directly behind Chance.

Chance took a deep breath and stood up. He walked toward Milo and took the empty seat next to him. "Hey," Chance greeted the other boy.

"Hey!" Milo grinned and winked at Chance. "I'm Milo."

"I'm Chance." the boy bit his lower lip. "My social worker said y — you're a nice guy."

"Well, I hope she's right!" Milo stuck his tongue out playfully. "Is this your first summer at Camp Ozland?"

"It's my first summer in foster care," Chance replied.

"Well, you'll have a great time: I'll make sure of it!"

The counselor continued to rattle off names. ". . . Jackson Poe…?"

"Here!" Jackson raised his hand.

"Great," the counselor said. "Wesley Rhodes…?"

Wesley's hand shot up. "Present." He yawned.

The counselor, Hank 'the Tank' Freeman, was a very tall and muscular black man in his mid-thirties. He had a five-o'clock shadow and a sleeve of white tattoos running down his right arm.

"Do you think Tank works out a lot?" Milo asked Chance, pointing at the counselor.

"Probably," Chance replied. "I mean, look at his muscles!"

Milo giggled. "I think his bicep is bigger than my head!"

Chance chuckled.

". . . Chance Vanessa…?" Tank called out.

Chance raised his hand. "I'm here!"

". . . Caden Vitale…?" Tank continued.

Another boy, about twelve, raised his hand.

Tank looked at his list, ". . . and, Tyler Wilson…?"

Tyler raised his hand and jerked his chin forward.

"That's everyone," Tank said. He motioned to the bus driver. "Let's head out."

"So, how old are you?" Milo asked about halfway through the bus ride.

"Actually," Chance began, "my birthday was two days ago. I'm twelve."

"No shit!" Milo giggled. "I turned twelve last week!"

There was the sound of a toilet flushing and water running from a sink shortly before Wesley exited the bathroom at the end of the bus.

"Jacking off to the thought of boys in there, faggot?" Tyler shouted out.

Instead of a verbal reply, Wesley abruptly turned toward Tyler and punched him in the face. And, before Tyler could stand back up, Wesley pounced on him, pinning him and head-butting him.

Suddenly, something pulled Wesley backward. He landed on the floor and looked up to see Jackson standing over him.

Wesley snarled and stood up. He stared down Jackson for a moment, then launched himself at the other boy.

Jackson and Wesley began trading blows in the cramped aisle between bus seats.

Milo slid over Chance's lap, landed in the aisle, and ran toward the brawling duo. "Cut it out, you two!" Milo grabbed Wesley by the shoulders and attempted to pull him off of Jackson.

Chance, after a pause, followed Milo into the action. He snuck behind Milo and Wesley, positioning himself between Wesley and Jackson. Chance tried to push Jackson away but found Jackson pushing back.

Wesley and Jackson — their eyes still locked on one another — fought against Milo and Chance's efforts, and reached toward each other's throats. Nonetheless, Chance and Milo continued to try to break up their tussle.

The end result was all four boys rolling around on the floor of the moving bus: Wesley and Jackson each trying to hurt the other, and Chance and Milo just trying to end the fight.

The battle came to an end when Tank shouted, "Enough!"

All four boys looked up from the floor at the giant camp counselor.

"That's enough, all of you!" His voice boomed. "Get up! Now!"

The boys complied and began standing.

"Back of the bus, now!" He shouted, pointing toward an empty row in the back of the bus.

The four boys and the counselor approached the empty seats. The boys sat down.

"Fighting is against camp rules!" Tank yelled.

"We were just tr — " Chance tried to say.

" — I don't care," Tank interrupted. "The four of you are in big trouble. I'm this close to calling your social workers and foster parents."

"No!" Jackson and Wesley shouted almost in unison.

"Milo," Tank said. "You know where Nevia Cabin is?"

Milo nodded.

"The four of you, that's your cabin for the rest of the summer," Tank explained.

"The whole summer?" Wesley's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

"Until I see that you're all getting along," Tank replied. "We clear?"

Milo nodded. The rest of the boys didn't reply.

"I said: 'Are we clear?'" Tank repeated.

"Yes," the four boys said at the same time.

"Good." Tank stood up and walked back to his seat at the front of the bus.

Shortly afterward, Jackson and Wesley returned to their respective seats, and Milo and Chance returned to their bench.

"What's Nevia Cabin?" Chance asked, his voice shaking.

"It's a run-down cabin on the edge of the camp," Milo explained. "It's like a ten-minute walk from everything else: the cafeteria, the bonfire pit, the craft stations, the rest of the cabins." He turned and looked at Chance. "We're isolated. It's just Nevia Cabin, a disgusting old bathroom, and one of the counselor's cabins."

"Which counselor?" Chance asked.

Milo shrugged.

"Tank?"

"I hope so," Milo replied.

An hour later, through the firs, oaks, and aspens of the Camp Ozland woods, the bus pulled up to a yet unlit bonfire. Thirty boys piled off the bus, each carrying duffel bags or other forms of luggage, with expressions ranging from excited to frustrated.

Tank and the other counselors had to shush and organize the boys a few times during their discussions of camp rules and routine. Breakfast was at 7:00 AM, lunch at 12:30 PM, and dinner at 6:00 PM in the cafeteria. The boys were required to shower once a day — in either the morning or the night — and brush their teeth twice per day. There was to be no bullying, teasing, "dissing," or excessively mean practical jokes. Laundry was done twice a week, and each boy had to put his dirty clothes in a bag with his name on it, and leave it in the corner of the cafeteria on Wednesdays and Sundays. Dessert was to be served in the form of s'mores around the bonfire — also on Wednesdays and Sundays — but only for the boys who had responsibly brought their laundry to the cafeteria. The boys were expected to do crafts and activities between breakfast and lunch and were given more free reign after lunch and until dinner.

In the area surrounding the bonfire were seven cabins: three for the counselors (with three beds each) and four for campers (with ten beds each). The boys were allowed to split themselves up among the campers' cabins as they saw fit. The result was two cabins with eight boys and two with seven. Chance, Wesley, Jackson, and Milo, of course, were still condemned to Nevia Cabin, and Tank decided to claim the counselor's cabin beside it.

The boys, for the most part, yawned their way through the counselors' repetition of Camp rules (when not ignoring the counselors and talking over them). While each of the other boys retreated to claim his own bed, Chance, Wesley, Jackson, and Milo — guided by Tank — walked fifteen minutes to the other side of the campgrounds and the isolated Nevia Cabin.

Nevia Cabin was in decent shape. It contained a collection of six beds with metal frames and old, rubber mattresses, and pretty much only that. There were a few maps and woodland decorations adorning the walls in between a handful of windows.

The building to the right of Nevia Cabin was an old bathroom with a gang shower and stall doors that wouldn't close.

To the left of Nevia Cabin was what would be Tank's cabin. It was a room with one bed, a desk, and an office area. Unlike the boys' cabin, it had an actual electric outlet and an internet router. Additionally, it had its own small bathroom.

Wesley and Jackson chose beds catty-corner to one another, on opposite sides of the cabin, as far away from each other as possible. Jackson's bed was closer to the front door, while Wesley's was against the back wall. Chance and Milo chose beds that were closer to the center: Chance's slightly closer to Jackson and Milo closer to Wesley.

"So, any of you ever been here before?" Chance asked, breaking the silence as the boys unpacked.

"This is my third year," Milo announced. "But you knew that. We're going to have so much fun! I can't wait to go hiking. Do any of you know any scary stories?" Milo barely paused in between words as he spoke. His face looking redder and redder the longer he talked. "I know a few, but I can make new ones up on the fly. Campfire tales are totally awesome! Did you guys hear the one about the man with…" Milo paused to catch his breath, the redness fading from his cheeks as he breathed in heavily ". . . a hook for a hand?"

Jackson, Chance, and Wesley all chuckled following Milo's exasperated breathing. Wesley and Jackson then glared at one another from their respective corners of the room and promptly stopped their laughter.

"Is that the one about the guy who escaped from the mental asylum?" Wesley asked.

"In some versions," Milo answered. "But there's the other version where he's from Mexico and is really a giant rat."

"That's an entirely different urban legend," Jackson spoke through a laugh.

"Spoilers, dude!" Chance interjected, "Don't give away the ending!"

Milo's eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, and last year I stole some of the extra marshmallows and chocolate from the cafeteria, then some of us stayed up late and made s'mores after the counselors went to bed!"

"What about the graham crackers?" Jackson asked.

"That's the sucky part of the s'more," Wesley answered. "Everyone knows that!"

"Um…" Chance said immediately. "What else did you do?"

"Well," said Milo. "We swam a lot. I wanted to try skinny dipping, but everyone else was too chicken."

"Skinny dipping with a bunch of dudes is kind of gay, anyway," said Jackson.

Wesley looked at Jackson. "Grow up, dude," he growled.

"Um…" Chance interjected, "Did you do any, like, camp activities?"

"Stupid macaroni art," Milo answered as he sat down on his bed and began digging through his bag. "Uh, they taught us how to whittle. I almost got in trouble last year for whittling a dick."

Wesley laughed.

"Why would you whittle a dick if it would get you in trouble?" Jackson asked, sitting down on his own bed and organizing his socks.

Just then, Milo pulled an eight-inch, carved piece of wood meant to look like a dick out of his bag and tossed it across the room toward Jackson. It landed on Jackson's bed.

The boys all started laughing at the fake cock.

"It doesn't even look real," Jackson commented, picking the wooden block up. "Yuck! It looks more like a tube." Jackson smiled and tossed the wooden cock toward Chance.

"A dick is a tube," said Wesley from across the room.

Chance picked up the fake phallus and examined it. "Yeah, it doesn't have a head or anything." He giggled. "It's smooth."

"I glazed it," Milo said.

Chance chuckled again. "Seriously?" He tossed the wooden penis to Wesley.

Wesley looked at the dick more closely. "Maybe it's supposed to be uncut." He traced his index finger along its shaft, his eyes locked on the veins haphazardly carved around its stem. Wesley stared for a few seconds before he tossed the carved cock back to Milo.

"How would you know what an uncut dick even looks like, Wesley?" Jackson asked.

Wesley glared back at Jackson with malice. "Are you going to flatter me with a guess or just make insinuations?"

Jackson mumbled but didn't respond immediately. "Insinu — what?"

Milo loudly cleared his throat and waived the wooden penis in the air, garnering the glances of the other boys in the room. Then he opened his mouth and aimed the eight-inch wooden phallus at it. "Dare me?" he asked followed by a quick giggle.

Wesley folded his arms, grumbled, sat on the foot of his mattress, and began removing his shoes.

Chance furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, "Go for it!"

"You have to say, 'dare,'" Milo said.

Jackson's eyes darted toward the door then the windows. "I dare you!"

Milo slowly pushed the tip of the wooden penis toward his open mouth. He stuck his tongue out slightly. Then he slipped the dick between his lips and closed them. Milo pushed the dick further into his mouth; deeper until seven [17.5cm] of its eight [19cm] inches was inside his wet orifice. Adding to the imagery, Milo rolled his eyes back and released an exaggerated moan. He pulled the cock out an inch [2,5cm]or-two [5cm], then thrust it gently back in. Milo repeated the action as if the carved dildo was humping his blushing face.

Chance, Wesley, and Jackson stared at Milo's show, their mouths slightly agape and their eyes wide.

"Eww!" said Chance followed by a happy chuckle.

"No way!" echoed Jackson.

Milo continued to fellate the wooden cock for another twenty seconds before removing the member from his mouth and running his tongue up its shaft. He finished off his well-performed blowjob with a kiss on the tip of the fake dick.

"That was totally gay!" laughed Jackson. "Ow!" Jackson called out as Wesley's shoe came flying across the room striking him in the chest. "What the hell, man?"

Jackson began walking toward Wesley's bed. "What's your problem!?"

Wesley stood up and began bounding toward Jackson. "What's your problem?"

Chance jumped into the middle of the room and placed his hands up, trying to keep Wesley and Jackson separate. "Can we at least try to keep from fighting? That's why we were sent here, to begin with!"

"He started it!" shouted Wesley.

"I started it?" began Jackson. "You were the one who threw a shoe at me!"

"Okay!" said Chance. He turned to Wesley. "No physical violence." He turned next to Jackson. "No name-calling."

Jackson took a deep breath. "Fine," he answered. He looked to Wesley. "Fine?"

"Whatever," Wesley replied, then turned around and walked back toward his bed.

Chapter 3
Cleansing

Chance yawned and stretched his arms. His covers had come off while he was sleeping. A splash of sunlight poured through a window above his bed's metal headboard and lit up his face. He squinted as he opened his eyes.

Chance looked around the room. Wesley was on his bed, lying on his side, and holding a pillow over his head. Jackson and Milo's beds were empty.

"Where're Milo and Jackson?" Chance asked as he sat up, still stretching. "Did they go get breakfast?"

"Ugh!" Wesley groaned through his pillow. "I don't know." He curled up tighter and pulled the pillow down more forcefully over his own head. "Jackson left like a half hour ago, and was really fucking loud about it."

Chance turned around and peered out the window behind his bed. The sun was bright, and the sky was colorful. A giant caterpillar, striped green, black, and white, squirmed along the outside edge of the window. "Cool," Chance said to himself as he tapped the glass near the caterpillar, watching it crawl.

Just then, the front door of the cabin opened, and Jackson walked in. He was holding a plastic basket containing shampoo, body wash, a toothbrush, and other shower supplies in one hand, with his pajamas and a wet towel in the other. Jackson was wearing jeans and a bright, teal t-shirt.

"Good morning!" Jackson announced. He walked to his bed and gingerly hung his towel on a bedpost. "Did everyone sleep well?"

"I was until you woke me up," grumbled Wesley. He finally threw his pillow off his head and onto the empty bed next to his.

"Sorry 'bout that," Jackson replied.

"Where is Milo, anyway?" Chance said. He put his small, bare feet on the cabin floor.

Jackson shrugged as he folded his pajamas and laid them out on a neatly made bed. "I haven't seen him."

"Really?" Chance asked.

"Yeah," answered Jackson. "He wasn't in his bed when I got up. I thought he might've been in the shower, but I didn't see him in the bathroom."

"He probably went and got breakfast already," said Wesley through a yawn. He tossed his thin bedsheets off and rolled out of bed.

Jackson shrugged and put his glasses on.

Chance searched through his suitcase and pulled out a towel as well as a t-shirt, shorts, boxers, and other clothes for the day. "Well, I'll go take a shower then." He walked toward the cabin's front door then turned around to glare at Wesley and Jackson, "no fighting, you two!"

Wesley snarled in reply.

The building next to Nevia Cabin — the bathroom — was covered in tile and grime. It was rather large, with a row of five toilet stalls and the same amount of sinks, plus a large gang-shower area with five shower-heads and a bench.

Chance walked around the bathroom for a moment, searching every alcove and even shouting "Milo?" a few times, before stripping off his clothing. Chance's naked body was still devoid of any hair: he was completely smooth from his neck down. He barely even had any "peach fuzz."

Chance had grown a few inches since his parents had died six months ago: he was now 4'8" [1.4m] tall. But he still looked small for his age. His hands and feet, for example, looked like they belonged to a boy of nine or ten, instead of a freshly-minted twelve-year-old. Chance's little dicklette stood at about 2.5 inches [6cm] long when it was at its hardest. The tiny member had a bright pink, circumcised head and rested atop two marble-sized balls just shy of dropping.

Chance approached a sink, looked in a dirty mirror, and examined his face. He brushed his teeth, letting the white foam from the toothpaste drip down his chin and over his chest and dime-sized, pink nipples. He spat out the foam and gave a smile into the mirror, revealing an almost-complete row of pearly white teeth — his last canine teeth still hadn't grown in yet.

Chance rinsed out his mouth and proceeded to the shower. Meticulously, he washed every inch of his small body: from his cute face to his little ass and baby dick, and down to his tiny toes.

Finally, Chance turned off the shower, wrapped his towel around his waist, and began drying off. It was at that point that he heard a flush.

Chance darted his head toward the row of toilets. Just as he looked in that direction, Milo emerged from the center stall.

Milo was completely naked and carrying what looked like a purple, plastic bulb in his right hand. "Hey, Chance." Milo walked to the sink and started running the water.

Milo's body was very similar to Chance's: small, about 4'8"[c. 1.4m] tall; no body hair; and a tiny, circumcised dicklette.

"Hey, Milo," Chance greeted. He glanced at Milo's naked body when Milo was looking away. "Where were you this morning?"

"Hmm?" Milo asked. "Oh! I was running an errand for Tank." He smiled. "I had to leave pretty early."

"What sort of errand?" Chance asked. He then realized that Milo was filling the small, purple bulb with water. "What're you doing?"

Milo finished filling the plastic bulb. "Refilling my enema," he explained.

"What's an enema?"

"Um," Milo clicked his tongue. "It's a butt-cleaner." He giggled.

"A butt-cleaner!?" Chance giggled as well.

"Yeah," Milo responded as if it were dull and obvious. He finished filling the device and then, with Chance watching — as if it were entirely normal — stood on his right toe, lifted his left leg and rested his knee on the sink counter. In this position, Milo's little ass-cheeks spread wide, revealing a tiny, pink hole that winked at Chance. Milo inserted the enema's plastic tip up his tight hole and squeezed. He moaned slightly.

"How does it clean your butt?" asked Chance, not even bothering to look away.

"You squeeze water up your ass," Milo began, "then hold it in for a little bit. Then you let it all go into the toilet, and repeat like five or ten times until you're completely clean down there."

"Why do you do it?"

"For the same reason I brush my teeth," Milo replied, lowering his leg off the counter, and revealing that his cocklette had become erect. "Because I have good hygiene."

Chance didn't reply right away. "You're um — " he pointed at Milo's hard little dicklette.

Milo glanced down then looked back up. "And?"

Chance didn't say anything.

"Sometimes an enema gives me a boner." Milo flicked his tiny member. "I think the water, like, pushes on my prostate or something."

"Prostate?"

"Yeah," Milo said. "It's like a button in your butthole that feels good if it's touched the right way."

Chance looked over his shoulder at his own, towel-clad, bubble butt.

Milo walked into a toilet stall and sat down. "If you ever want to stop being a heathen, and start having actual good hygiene," Milo began, "I have an extra enema you could borrow."

"N — ." Chance paused for a moment, furrowing his brow. ". . . Maybe. I'll think about it."

Milo flushed the toilet and walked back to the sink to refill his enema. And, after a few more flushes, he washed his hands and ran soap and water over the enema's nozzle. Milo picked up a small, plastic basket off the floor containing his shower supplies. "Do you use cologne?"

Chance shook his head 'no.'

"I have some lavender oil you can borrow," Milo offered.

"Oil?" Chance asked.

"Essential oil," Milo explained, as he pulled a tiny bottle with a purple label out of his shower basket. He poured a few drops of the oil onto his index finger, then proceeded to reach behind himself and rub his finger on his tight little hole. "It's not all chemically, like cologne, so it doesn't sting."

"Are you trying to make your butt smell like flowers?" Chance laughed out loud. "Who's smelling your butt?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Milo teased, and stuck out his tongue. "I just like to be clean 'n' stuff." He tossed the lavender oil bottle to Chance.

Chance caught the bottle in one hand, still holding his towel up with the other. He brought the bottle to his nose and sniffed. "It smells nice."

Milo walked toward Chance and gently took Chance's hand. He lifted, then pointed to Chance's exposed wrist. "One drop on each wrist, one drop on each side of your neck, and one drop on your butthole." Milo grinned. "Any more, and you'll smell like a perfume shop exploded on you; that stuff is strong!"

Chance didn't say anything.

Milo walked toward the gang shower, and then behind a tile wall. "Leave the bottle on the sink when you're done," he called.

Chance dropped his towel and proceeded to apply five drops of lavender oil as Milo described. He quickly dressed, placed the bottle of lavender oil on the counter, and exited the bathroom.

As Chance left the building, Wesley was walking toward him, holding his towel like a bindle with his shower supplies inside it.

"Milo's in the shower," Chance explained.

Wesley sighed and sat down on the ground next to the bathroom door, "I'll wait then." Wesley sniffed the air. "Are you wearing cologne?"

"Um, sort of," Chance answered. "I borrowed some lavender oil from Milo."

Wesley leaned slightly closer to Chance and sniffed. "You smell nice."

"Thanks."

"Thanks for yesterday, by the way," Wesley said.

Chance raised an eyebrow.

"For breaking up the fight between Jackson and me," Wesley explained. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, I guess." Chance sat down on the ground next to Wesley. "I just don't want you guys to fight. You were really going at each other on the bus."

"I don't want to have to fight him either," Wesley said.

"You don't have to fight — "

" — Yeah, I kind of do," Wesley said. "I…." Wesley sighed ". . . If I don't defend myself now, it'll only be harder in the long run."

"Wes, I don't think Jackson was making fun of you," Chance said.

"Eh, I'm not so sure about that," Wesley stood up. "But thanks anyway, though. Jackson's really strong, and he and I would've both gotten pretty hurt if we fought."

"Have you fought him before?" Chance asked. "I mean, before the bus ride."

Wesley nodded. "We both take Bāguàzhǎng — that's a kind of kung fu — together. Milo does too. We've all sparred before." He paused. "We're all actually at the top of the class, now that I think about it. Tyler's at the top of the class too."

Chance exhaled, almost as a laugh. "Yeah? All of you?"

"Yeah," Wesley nodded. "I'm probably the best at unarmed fighting. Jackson and Tyler are both really good with swords — "

"Swords!?"

"Yeah," Wesley said. "Not real swords, obviously. Fake swords. Wooden shit. Jackson likes the jian, and Tyler likes the dao."

Chance shrugged and shook his head slightly.

"A jian is like a — uh — a Chinese straight sword. It's good for poking," Wesley explained, thrusting an invisible sword as he spoke. "And a dao is more curved, like a machete. It's better for slashing." He made a slashing motion with his arm.

"What about Milo?" Chance asked.

Wesley grinned. "He's really good with a staff — "

The bathroom door swung open, revealing a still slightly wet Milo. " — Damn right," Milo said.

Wesley chuckled.

"Actually I'm good with a ton of weapons," Milo said. "We just don't have a fake spear, and they haven't really trained us in using a three-section staff or kali sticks."

Wesley looked to Chance, "Milo once brought a boomerang to class and tried to convince Sifu Li to let him use it to spar against Tyler."

Chance chuckled loudly.

Just then, Jackson appeared from about twenty feet away, exiting the cabin. "Hey!" he called and ran toward the bathroom door.

Chance smiled and waved.

"Hey, Chance. Hey, Milo. How's it going, Wesley?" Jackson grinned at each boy. He made slightly extended eye contact with Wesley. "Did you guys shower yet?"

"Wes was just about to shower," Chance explained.

"Okay," Jackson said. "I just wanted to remind you guys that breakfast starts in twenty minutes, and it's at least a ten-minute walk to the cafeteria." He raised his eyebrows to Wesley, "so you better hurry."

"Thanks," Wesley said quietly.

"You guys ready for breakfast yet?" a voice boomed from a distance.

Chance turned to see Tank exiting his cabin.

"Hurry up. We don't want to be late," Tank said.

The giant camp counselor approached the group of boys setting off a chorus of greetings from Jackson, Chance, and Wesley.

"'Sup, Tank?" Milo grinned, looking up at the counselor.

"How's it hanging, Milo?" Tank asked.

"Tight," he winked and stuck out his tongue.

Tank reached down and tousled Milo's red hair.

Milo blushed. "Go shower, Wesley, so we can go get breakfast."

Wesley rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom.

Chapter 4
Phasing Through

Chance, Jackson, Wesley, Milo, and Tank arrived at the cafeteria about five minutes after breakfast started. Tank retreated to a kitchen area with a handful of other adult camp counselors. The four boys approached a counter separating the dining area from the kitchen; they each grabbed a plate or bowl and were given a choice between cereal, oatmeal, or sunny-side-up eggs.

After grabbing breakfast, Chance followed Milo to a wooden table near a window and sat down across from him. Wesley and Jackson followed shortly behind; but, as Jackson sat down next to Chance, Wesley moved away to sit at another table.

Jackson poked at his eggs suspiciously with a plastic fork. "I thought we'd get those scrambled eggs made from powder."

"Last year they had that," Milo replied. He shrugged and dipped his spoon into his cereal. Milk dripped down his chin.

"Is there something wrong with your eggs?" Chance asked. He swallowed a spoonful of his own oatmeal.

Jackson shrugged. "I dunno. They just don't look normal, y'know?" Jackson stood up. "I'm gonna go grab some toast. Anyone want anything?"

Chance shook his head.

Milo paused for a moment then said, "no."

Jackson nodded and walked back toward the counter.

Chance leaned in toward Milo and began whispering, "so, what's going on with Wesley and Jackson? Why does Wesley hate Jackson?"

Milo furrowed his brow and tapped his chin with his index finger. "Jealousy?"

"What's he jealous of?" Chance asked.

"Jackson's foster parents," Milo answered.

Chance cocked his head to the side slightly.

"Wesley's foster parents were Mister and Missus Smythe," Milo began. "Then, like a year ago, Wesley got put into a group home, and the Smythes started fostering Jackson." Milo took another bite of his cereal. "But, the weird thing was, before that the Smythes were totally planning on adopting Wesley."

"Really?"

Milo nodded. "Yeah. Like every week at Kung Fu, Wesley was talking about how excited he was and stuff." He raised his eyebrows, "he was a lot less angry back then."

"What changed?" Chance asked.

Before Milo could reply, Jackson returned to the table and sat back down carrying six pieces of toast. "I got you guys some anyway," he said. Jackson passed two slices of toast to Milo and two to Chance, keeping two for himself.

"Guys," Jackson said, staring at his eggs with wide eyes. "Um…" he gulped.

Chance and Milo both sat up, leaned over the wooden table and looked at Jackson's plastic paper plate with sunny-side-up eggs. Except, they weren't sunny-side-up anymore.

They were moving. The eggs were running: their yolks were wriggling. The yellow parts started to melt, flowing into the whites, and then merging. It was as if the eggs were scrambling themselves.

"What's going on?" Chance asked.

"I have no clue," Jackson replied.

The eggs started to bubble slightly, as if something was beneath them, pushing them upward from below. Then, the now scrambled eggs bean to part, and a small, pointed orange thing emerged from beneath one egg.

"Is that a beak?" Milo asked.

A yellow feather, then another, then two more, appeared from underneath the second egg.

"Are your eggs…hatching?" Milo's jaw dropped as he spoke.

Chance's eyes widened as he heard a "cheep."

Jackson reached down and used his fingers to separate the eggs, revealing two, perfectly-formed, fluffy baby chicks.

"What the fuck!?" Milo shouted.

Jackson, smiling, reached down and gently lifted up one of the chicks. "This is so awesome."

Chance reached over and picked up the second chick, and began cradling it in his palms. "It's so cute!" He held the baby bird up to his face and rubbed its soft feathers against his cheek.

A chorus of cheeps started breaking out across the cafeteria, accompanied by shocked campers shouting.

"What the hell!?" Shouted one camper from a few tables over.

A few campers started giggling and laughing as more and more chicks began erupting from cooked eggs.

Caden — a mixed-race boy in a tie-dyed t-shirt — ran toward Jackson, Milo, and Chance's table. "Did you find a chick in your eggs too?" He was holding a small chick in the palm of his hands.

"Yeah!" Chance chuckled, holding up his chick.

"Awesome!" Caden cheered and ran off back toward another table.

Chance passed his chick across the table to Milo, who smiled, giggled, and began petting the small, baby bird.

The chick cheeped again and started to fall into a calm slumber in Milo's palm.

Tyler approached the table with a sleeping chick in his hand. He stood next to Milo's seat and across from Jackson and Chance. "Did fucking birds invade your breakfast too?" Tyler laughed.

"What happened to your chick?" Chance asked, dreading the answer.

"I got confused and speared the motherfucker with a fork." Tyler laughed again. "Oh, well!"

"You sick motherfucker!" Jackson shouted. "You did it on purpose."

"What do you care, loser!?" Tyler replied. "It's a chicken. Can't make arroz con pollo without one." Tyler winked at Jackson.

Jackson remained seated and pulled his baby chick closer to his chest.

"Aww, did I hurt the little spic — I mean chick's — feelings?" Tyler rolled his eyes and pouted his lips.

Jackson said nothing. He breathed more heavily.

Suddenly, Tyler reached down and snatched the baby bird out of Milo's hands.

"Hey!" Milo shouted, jumping to his feet. "Give 'im back!"

"What?" Tyler asked. "Were you going to keep the little McNugget as a pet?"

Jackson quickly passed his chick to Chance and stood up. He jumped up onto the table, and walked off the other edge, and approached Tyler. "Give it back, Tyler."

"Give the chick back?" Tyler teased. "Is that your thing, Poe: saving idiot chicks?"

Jackson lurched his knee forward, striking Tyler's crotch. "Give the chick back!" He shouted.

Tyler tumbled backward.

Jackson walked closer to Tyler. Chance and Milo jumped up from their seats and stepped closer to Jackson. Wesley and Caden — a table away — also jumped up and approached the commotion.

"Give it back or what?" Tyler said, regaining his balance.

"Or I'll kick your ass," Jackson replied, calmly.

"Oooh," Tyler said. "I'm so scared!"

"You should be," said Wesley. "Jackson's kicked your ass before in class."

"But he's too much of a goody-two-shoes to do it now," Tyler replied.

"Wanna test your luck?" Jackson said, curling his hand into a fist and walking closer to Tyler. He punched, striking Tyler's chest, then relaxed into a Kung Fu fighting stance.

Tyler fell back a few paces but stayed on his feet. "You wanna save it?" he asked. "Here's your chance," Tyler threw the chick onto the floor and, as Jackson started running toward him, Tyler stomped on it. There was a crunching noise.

Jackson stopped running and put his fists down.

"See, loser?" Tyler said. "You can't save everyone. Or, in your case, anyone." Tyler turned around and walked away, leaving a mess of blood and feathers from under his shoe.

"Jackson," Milo said, walking toward the other boy. He reached out to put a hand on Jackson's shoulder.

Jackson shrugged off Milo's hand. He wiped his eyes and walked toward the cafeteria door and exited the building.

Chance started chasing after Jackson when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Wesley.

Wesley shook his head at Chance. "Don't."

Chance nodded to Wesley, "But, he's cry — "

" — No," Wesley said. "Let him be."
Chance gulped, "He — "

" — No!" Wesley asserted. "You can't help him right now."

"What do you mean?"

Wesley took a deep breath. "You heard what Tyler said, about how Jackson can't save anyone?"

Chance nodded.

"Jackson's dad killed his mom," Wesley said. "Beat the shit out of her."

Chance stood dumbfounded.

"That's why he's in foster care," Wesley explained.

"He blamed himself for a long time," Milo said, approaching Chance and Wesley. "Wes's right. Let Jackson be alone right now. He's gonna need some space."

Against his better judgment, Chance walked around the camp after breakfast until he found Jackson standing alongside the bank of the lake.

Jackson was throwing stones at the lake, watching them skip along the water's surface.

"Hey," Chance said, approaching Jackson.

"Hey," Jackson replied.

"The counselors took the chicks away," Chance said. "They said something about bringing them to a farm. A counselor took 'em away in a cardboard box."

"That's probably for the best," Jackson replied quietly.

"You showed some awesome restraint back there," Chance said, placing a hand on Jackson's shoulder.

Jackson sighed. "Just being a good guy," he said. He turned to look at Chance's face. His eyes were still red. "Once…" he gulped ". . . once Tyler stepped on it, there was no reason to continue."

Chance nodded and gently squeezed Jackson's shoulder.

"I don't like violence," Jackson said, followed by a forced laugh. "I know, that sounds weird because I take Kung Fu." He threw another stone into the water. It skipped six times along the lake. "But I really don't like violence. I only — outside of class, I only fight to stop fights and protect people." He looked Chance in the eyes. "Once the chick was dead, there was no one left to protect."

"Like yesterday on the bus?" Chance asked. "You were trying to protect Tyler from Wesley?"

"I don't regret that," Jackson said. "Tyler's an asshole, but…" he trailed off.

"But you still feel like you needed to protect him."

Jackson nodded.

"Milo and Wesley told me what happened," Chance said. "I — I still blame myself for what happened to my parents too."

"It sucks," Jackson said. He sat on the ground.

Chance sat next to him.

"It really sucks." Jackson leaned over and put his head on Chance's shoulder. "What happened to your parents?"

"Car accident."

"I'm sorry," Jackson said.

Chance nodded. "Me too."

Twenty minutes later, Chance and Jackson walked toward the central camping area.

A counselor approached the two boys. "There you two are," he said. "Pick your poison: archery or scavenger hunting."

Chance's eyes lit up. "Archery!?" He grinned.

"I take it you're a bowman?" Tank smiled at Chance.

"Hell, yeah!" Chance almost laughed. "I've been taking archery for years!"

Jackson patted Chance's back. "You do that. I think I'm done with anything violent for the day."

Tank nodded to Jackson knowingly. "Yeah, I figured." He patted Jackson's shoulder. "I spoke with Tyler."

Jackson shrugged.

"Well, the scavenger hunt just started, so you're not far behind everyone else." Tank reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. He handed the bag to Jackson. "The goal is collect as many bird feathers as you can. The boy who collects the most different kinds of feathers wins. Not how many you can get overall: How many different species you can find. Got it?"

Jackson nodded and took the plastic bag.

"You can keep looking for feathers between now and tomorrow," Tank said. "Before lunch tomorrow, we'll identify everyone's feathers in a — it's like a birdwatching class in the multi-purpose cabin."

Milo ran over to Tank, Chance, and Jackson. "You going scavenger hunting too?" he asked.

"I am," Jackson replied.

"Cool: I need a partner." Milo reached over and grabbed Jackson's hand. "I already found a bluejay feather. I think." He looked up and winked at Tank, as before, then dragged Jackson away toward the woods.

"Stay with your partner!" Tank called as Jackson and Milo approached a hiking trail. "We don't want anyone getting lost!"

Tank led Chance over to a makeshift archery range between two of the counselors' cabins. He handed him a plastic, recurve bow.

Chance picked up the bow and examined it. "This is a right-handed bow."

Tank raised an eyebrow. "Uh…maybe?"

"It wasn't a question," Chance said. He pointed to the side of the bow. "The notch points towards the hand that holds the bow."

"Then, this notch would point toward your left hand." Tank smiled.

"Which means, I would hold the arrow in my right hand. I'm a lefty," Chance explained.

Tank nodded. "How long have you been doing archery?"

"Since I was nine," Chance answered.

Tank led Chance into a small shed next to the cabin.

Chance watched as Tank typed a number into a keypad next to the shed door: 2-1-0. Inside were a handful of extra supplies, wood blocks, a canoe with oars, and — most importantly — extra bows and arrows.

Chance looked over the bows, trying to find a left-handed one. "You have a crossbow?" Chance when he spied one lying on the ground of the shed.

"Guess so," Tank replied.

Chance shrugged and began digging through the weaponry. Finally, he picked up a left-handed bow. "Cool!" Chance said. "I've always wanted one like this." He examined the bow and pulled the string.

"It's got extra arms or something," Tank said.

"They're called limbs," Chance explained. "It's a Penobscot bow. More limbs mean that it's harder to pull back on the string." Chance demonstrated by pulling the string back hard. "That means that it releases the arrow with more force."

"Then why not make a bow with six limbs?" Tank asked. "Or eight?"

Chance's walked toward the shed's exit, carrying the bow. "Good question. I'd like a six-limbed bow. That would be pretty cool."

At the archery range, Chance chose a spot next to Wesley, who was struggling to hit his target at all. His arrows mostly landed in the grass surrounding it.

"You're aiming too much," Chance said. "You just have to trust your instinct, and let your arrow fly." Chance demonstrated by picking up his Penobscot bow, effortlessly loading an arrow, and hitting the bullseye a few millimeters shy of the center ring.

"Great shot!" Wesley said, his jaw dropping.

Chance shook his head and loosed another arrow. This one hit dead center. "That was a good shot."

"Wow!" said Tank as he approached Chance from behind. "You weren't kidding when you said you had archery experience."

Chance blushed.

That night, all the campers gathered around the bonfire for scary stories, and an explanation about how the "no fighting" rule extended to "not killing small animals."

Wesley and Chance sat next to one another. And, shortly afterward, Milo and Jackson approached them.

Jackson sat down next to Chance and showed him a plastic bag. He opened it up revealing a collection of about two dozen bird feathers. He pulled a big one out. "Look at this!" Jackson said, showing what looked like a peacock feather. "I guarantee I'm the only one who found one like this."

"Peacocks don't live around here," said Wesley.

"How would you know?" asked Jackson.

"Because I, y'know, read," Wesley scoffed. "They're mostly from India and the Middle East. Some species are in Africa. But none of them live in America."

"Well," said Jackson. "Maybe someone dropped it in the woods."

"You found it on the hiking trail," said Milo. "It still counts."

Chance looked around the bonfire, and pointed to each boy, counting them all to make sure everyone was there. He cocked his head to the side.

"What is it?" said Milo.

"There are thirty-three boys here," said Chance.

"So?" asked Jackson.

"There are only supposed to be thirty campers," said Wesley. "You must've counted wrong."

"Or maybe something weird is happening," said Milo. "After the stuff with the chicks this morning, I wouldn't be surprised if there's like a…magic…thing. Or something."

"That wasn't magic," scoffed Wesley. "It was a prank."

"How do you know?" asked Jackson.

"Come on!" said Wesley. "When baby chicks hatch, their feathers have barely grown in: they're wet and alien-looking. Those chicks in the cafeteria were fluffy and cute. They had to be a few days old. It had to be a prank."

"Seemed pretty real to me," said Jackson.

"There!" Chance pointed at Tyler, who was sitting on the other side of the fire, far away from the boys. "Who are those boys sitting with Tyler?"

Jackson squinted at Tyler. "I don't know 'em."

"Maybe they're new campers," said Wesley. "Who cares? They're probably assholes if they're hanging out with that motherfucker."

Twenty minutes later, the sun set. Half an hour after that, Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo began the trek back to Nevia Cabin. And, fifteen minutes after that, they arrived back at their bunk.

"No — that's fucked up!" shouted Wesley, bypassing their cabin door and running the 100 feet [30.5m] toward the lake. "That's fucked up!" He pointed at the sky.

"What's wrong?" Chance ran after Wesley.

Jackson and Milo approached close behind.

"What time is it!?" Wesley asked.

Milo reached over to Jackson and grabbed his wrist, turning it. He glanced at Jackson's watch. "Nine Forty-Two PM." Milo glanced back to Wesley, "Why was that important?"

"I know that it's staying lighter longer," Wesley began. "But shouldn't the sun have set like an hour and forty-five minutes ago?" Wesley pointed at the sky over the lake. The sun was halfway through setting, and the atmosphere still shone with shimmers of pink and blue.

"No!" said Jackson walking toward the lake, and standing next to Wesley. "The sun was setting before when we were at the bonfire. Remember?"

"I remember!" shouted Wesley. "That's why this is so fucked up!"

Chance turned around, completely dumbfounded. His eyes widened. "Maybe the sunlight has something to do with that."

On the other side of the lake, a rainbow swirl of color streaked across the night sky.

"Aren't the aurora borealis supposed to be in Greenland or something?" Milo asked.

"I think something weird is going on, guys," said Jackson.

Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo stared at the sky for a good fifteen minutes in complete shock. They tossed around hypotheses and theories. Wesley insisted that there was a magnetic and electrical disturbance causing these weird phenomena. Milo, on the other hand, asserted that it was magic.

After a while though, the point became moot. The sun had set, and the plasmic rainbow swirl had faded away.

Chance sat down on the ground. "This has been a long day." He sighed. "I'm ready for bed."

Jackson began walking toward the bathroom next to Nevia cabin. "Remember the rules: we have to brush our teeth before bed," he instructed.

Wesley grumbled and followed Jackson.

Chance stood up and followed suit.

Milo ran ahead of the pack to the bathroom door. Milo opened the door, began to step inside, then shut it quickly.

"Dudes," Milo said. "Either I'm crazy, or weird shit is still happening."

"Why not both?" Jackson joked.

"Good point," said Milo. He stepped to the side. "Let's test my sanity then. Why don't you, Jackson, open this bathroom door and tell me what you see inside."

"You're serious," said Wesley.

Milo raised his eyebrows and vigorously nodded.

Jackson gulped, stepped forward and opened the bathroom door.

Inside, was not the tile and grime from earlier that day. Instead, the boys saw what looked like rows of dimly-lit wooden shelves. Shelves that were lined with books. The light inside the "bathroom" flickered like a candle.

Wesley whispered, "What…the…fucking…hell?"

Chapter 5
The House Of Wisdom

With barely a moment's pause, Jackson walked over the threshold and into what was once the bathroom next to Nevia Cabin. Wesley followed closely behind Jackson, then Milo and Chance in a line.

"This is not a bathroom," said Jackson quietly.

"No shit!" replied Wesley.

Jackson and Chance simultaneously shushed Wesley.

Wesley walked to a shelf and pulled a book from it. He began flipping through the tome.

"Well?" asked Jackson, peering over Wesley's shoulder.

Wesley read from the book, "'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves / Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; / All mimsy were the borogoves, / And the mome raths outgrabe."

"Was that English?" Milo asked through a chuckle.

"Yeah," Wesley spat. "It's Lewis Carroll. The book is Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There."

"It doesn't sound like English," continued Milo.

"It's a nonsense poem. Lewis Carroll liked to experiment with language." Wesley explained.

"How do you just know this?" Jackson asked.

"I read a lot," Wesley replied. "I really like mythology, legends, and stuff. The name of that poem was 'Jabberwocky.' 'Jabberwocky' is also one of the names for the Jersey Devil."

"What's the Jersey Devil?" asked Chance.

"An urban legend from New Jersey," Wesley answered.

Jackson reached up and pulled another book from the shelf. "I know this one," he said after flipping through a few pages. "Yeah, I definitely know this one."

"What book is it?" asked Chance.

"The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," Jackson answered.

"Yeah," Wesley grumbled. "The Smythes love all those Christian books."

Chance grabbed a tome from the shelf. He flipped to a random page and silently read a handful of sentences. "'Dorothy'…'Toto'…'Scarecrow,'" he nodded. "This one's The Wizard of Oz. Are we noticing a theme here?"

"You mean stories about kids traveling to mysterious worlds?" Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Nope. Hadn't noticed."

Milo followed suit and grabbed a book of his own. He flipped through the pages before settling on one. He read aloud, "Overhead Tinker Bell shouted 'Silly ass!' and darted into hiding." Milo chuckled loudly. "Damn, Tink's got some sass!"

Jackson giggled. "So, that one was Peter Pan — "

"Shhh!" a voice whispered from behind the boys.

All four boys swiftly turned their heads toward the voice. The door that they had walked through — that was once behind them — was gone. Instead, the shelves extended into an aisle. And, standing at the end of that aisle was a woman.

She was tall and black, with short braided hair. She wore a simple blouse and a long skirt, spotted with flecks of silver. In her hands were a pile of books. The woman widened her eyes, leaned forward, and shushed the boys once more, "shhh."

As abruptly as she had appeared, the woman walked away down a corridor.

Jackson slid The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe back onto the shelf, and motioned to the other boys. Following suit, Wesley, Chance, and Milo placed Through the Looking Glass, The Wizard of Oz, and Peter Pan back into their spots. The four boys darted to the end of the aisle and began following the woman.

On either side of their corridor, were more rows; each with shelves filled with books. Giant chandeliers decorated with glass, crystals, and silver dotted the high ceilings. Marble floors, stone walls, and iron staircases surrounded the building. There were massive interior balconies and elaborate stained-glass windows. Strange-looking people quietly walked from table to bookshelf carrying leather-bound books and scrolls of parchment.

"Is this a library?" Chance whispered.

Milo shrugged. "Where's the kid's section?" He chortled.

"Ha. Ha." Chance replied. "How did the bathroom become a library?"

"Maybe we're dreaming?" Wesley offered softly.

"How could we all be dreaming the same dream?" Jackson replied in a hushed tone.

"Folie à deux?" Wesley said. "Or 'folie à quatre,' I guess." He huffed. "Maybe I'm just passed out, and you're all part of my dream."

"Oh, so you've dreamt us all up now?" Jackson scoffed.

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Wesley said, no longer trying to remain quiet.

"Could you two stop fighting for like three seconds!?" Chance interjected.

"Shhhh!" echoed a nearby voice.

The boys turned their heads toward the voice. A man was sitting at a wooden table; beside him was a pile of books and a notepad under a lamp. The man raised his eyebrows to the boys, held a finger to his lips, then turned back to his research.

"Guys — guys — guys," Jackson whispered. He raised his hand and pointed to the man who had just shushed them. "Look at his legs."

The man's upper-body looked utterly ordinary, aside from a slightly orangish skin tone. But beneath the man's waist was a mass of salmon-colored tentacles lined with suction cups where his legs should have been.

"Squidward?" Milo joked.

Wesley nudged Milo in the side. "He's a cecælia. It's like an octopus-mer-person from mythology."

With jaws agape, the boys watched as the man stood from his chair. He grabbed one of his books and started walking — if that was the right word — down the corridor. His tentacles slithered over one another, making long, flowing strides.

The cecælia walked toward the boys. He towered over them by about two feet. In addition to being large, this man was muscular. He was wearing a tight, iridescent t-shirt that accentuated the curves of his pecs and abs. His shirt was tucked into a thick, leather belt, secured by a collection of metallic buckles. And, from that belt hung a loincloth.

The man winked at the boys, smiled politely, then kept walking. As his limbs strode across the marble floor, his loincloth flapped, momentarily displaying a massive, flaccid, manhood: thick and long like a ninth tentacle.

Once the cecælia was out of earshot, Milo whispered, "I wonder if he cums ink," then giggled.

The cecælia slithered toward a large desk, placed his book down on the counter, and waved to the woman behind it.

Jackson motioned with his chin toward the desk and the woman behind it. "That's the woman from before," he whispered. "I'll bet she's the librarian, and that's, like, the circulation desk."

Jackson began walking toward the circulation desk, and the other boys followed in tow. The four arrived at the counter just as the cecælia was walking away.

Milo winked and nodded at the tentacled man as they crossed paths.

"Are you going to talk to her?" Chance whispered to Wesley.

"Me? Why me?" Wesley quietly replied.

"You're brave," Milo chimed in.

Jackson scoffed and walked up to the counter. "Excuse me?" he greeted the librarian.

"May I help you?" the librarian replied. She did not look up from her stack of books.

Jackson cleared his throat. "We — um — we're a little lost. We were wondering, uh…Where are we?"

The librarian nodded before looking up from her desk to meet Jackson's gaze. Her eyes were silver with catlike slits. She looked Jackson up-and-down before turning to Wesley, Chance, and Milo and examining them as well. Nicely, as if she understood their predicament, the librarian replied, "you are in the House of Wisdom."

Wesley chortled.

"Why's that funny?" asked Chance.

Wesley stepped forward, closer to the desk. "The House of Wisdom?" he repeated. "The House of Wisdom. As in 'the library from Baghdad that was destroyed by the Mongols in the thirteenth century'?"

"Twelve-fifty-eight, to be exact," continued the librarian.

"Then how are we here?" asked Wesley.

"Did we go back in time?" Jackson almost laughed.

"And why is there a hunky octopus-man!?" Milo asked perhaps a little too loudly.

The librarian sighed and held up a single finger. "One moment please." She removed a shimmering piece of paper from the pile beside her, and, with a feathered quill, quickly jotted something upon it. When she put the quill back down on the desk, the paper, as if by magic, flew up into the air and soared across the library. "An attendant will be with you shortly," the librarian said.

With his mouth agape, Wesley examined the air around the desk. "There has to be, like, a fishing line here or something."

Chance and Jackson looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Fuckin' awesome!" said Milo breathily.

A minute or so later, another boy hopped up to the circulation desk. He was about the same height as Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo, and looked to be about the same age as well. But, otherwise, he was remarkably different!

The boy's grayish skin glistened with the light. His hair was a collection of coifed and styled bird feathers. His clothing looked relatively normal, but, beneath the bottom hems of his nylon shorts, silvery bird legs protruded from his knees.

"Hi!" the bird-like boy greeted Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo with an extended hand. "I'm Kato." He waved quickly to the librarian, then looked back to the boys. "You need someone to show you 'round?"

"Uh," Jackson began. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great." He gulped. "I'm Jackson, and this is Wesley, Chance, and Milo." He motioned to the rest of the boys as he said their names.

"'Sup?" greeted Wesley with a polite smile.

"Hey," said Chance.

"Cool feathers!" exclaimed Milo.

"Sweet." Kato winked and motioned for the boys to follow him. As he walked through down a few hallways and into stacks of books, Kato started speaking quietly. "So, I'm gonna guess that you four aren't from here."

"What gave it away?" Wesley asked rhetorically.

"Yeah — uh," began Chance. "Where exactly is 'here'?"

"Or, when is 'here'?" Wesley continued.

"Both great questions!" Kato said. He pointed to Chance. "I'll start with your question: We are in Acadie. It's, uh — If your world is the Regular World, this is the Other World: A world of lost things."

"Lost things?" asked Milo.

"Lost cities, forgotten knowledge, missing people, legendary species," Kato pointed to his avian legs. "and hidden magic."

"Magic?" Wesley scoffed.

"Yeah. Magic," Kato replied. He ran his hand through the plumage on his head. "You don't think I got this look with hair gel, do ya?" He pointed to Wesley. "Answering your question is tougher because time does not work the same way in Acadie."

Jackson raised his hand and clicked his tongue. "Not to be rude, but…What are you?"

"I'm an assistant librarian," Kato explained.

"Aren't you a little young to be an assistant librarian?" Milo asked. "You're like our age."

Wesley huffed. "I think what Jackson was asking was — "

" — I know what he was asking," Kato interjected. "I'm not an idiot." He rolled his eyes. "I'm a kinnara."

"What's that?" asked Chance.

"A Southeast Asian legend," Wesley explained. "A mythological bird-person-creature-thing in Indonesia, Thailand, Tibet, and that area."

"Sweet!" Milo exclaimed.

BANG! Suddenly, a crash echoed through the library. The sound vibrated a few books off their shelves.

Kato's eyes widened, and he backed up against a row of shelves.

Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo ran to the end of the aisle to discover the source of the sound.

Three men burst through a door and into the library. They wore slick suits, sunglasses, and golden ties. One of the men reached a finger up to his ear, pressed a button in an earpiece, and began speaking "The coast is clear, Belial. We're in."

A fourth man — who was a good deal taller than the other three — entered the library. He was wearing a mustard-colored, leather blazer, and a fedora. His face was terribly attractive, and his skin was a strange, smoky color. The man's eyes glowed.

This fourth man, Belial, swiftly approached the circulation desk, politely removed his hat, and began speaking to the librarian. His voice was deep and carried in the air longer than it should have. "'Evening, Sophia. It's been some time, hasn't it."

"Is there a book I can help you find, Sir," replied the librarian.

"No, Sophia. Not a book," continued Belial. "You see, Agent Walker here has informed me that a half-breed — a kinnara — has been seen in your little establishment."

"I really wouldn't know," said the librarian.

"Is that so, Sophia?" asked Belial. "You mean to tell me there are things you don't know?"

The librarian said nothing.

"Well, if there's no half-breed here, you won't mind if Agent Walker, Dave, Jeff and I have a look around." Belial winked at the librarian then motioned to the other three men.

In short order, the suited men spread out within the library. They were looking under tables and behind spiral staircases.

Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo dodged back into the aisle. Kato was now shivering and breathing heavily, huddled against a bookshelf.

Jackson spoke quickly and quietly, "hide him." He pointed to the bottom shelf on the wall, then sunk to his knees and began pulling papers from it.

As quickly as they could, the four boys pulled about thirty books from the wooden shelf. Wesley approached Kato, dragged him by the hand, and assisted him in ducking into the bottom row of the bookcase.

Chance, Milo, and Jackson started piling as many books as they could around Kato.

With Kato lying down on the bookcase, the other four boys sat down around the shelf, their backs to Kato, hiding him with their own bodies as best they could. They each picked up a book and, began pretending to read. To a passerby, it would look like Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo were merely leaning against the bookshelf while reading a pile of books in a huddle.

Just as the boys finished hiding Kato, one of the agents approached their aisle of bookcases.

Without looking up at the suited man, Jackson turned to Chance. "Hilarious!" said Jackson, holding up a book. "I know Shakespeare had a way with words, but I didn't realize just how funny this guy Cardenio was."

Wesley looked up from his book and politely nodded to the agent. "Hey."

The Agent looked over the boys for a brief moment before nodding back to Wesley, then moving onto the next row of bookshelves.

The four boys all breathed a collected sigh of relief.

It was another fifteen minutes before Belial and his agents left the library. During that time, Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo continued to pretend to read books, doing their best to hide Kato.

Once they were sure the agents were gone, the boys moved out of the way and helped pull Kato from the shelf.

"They're gone," said Chance. "You okay?"

Kato nodded and wiped a tear from his cheek.

Chance put an arm around the bird-boy and hugged him comfortingly.

Chapter 6
Histories And Legends

Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo cleaned up the books strewn about on the floor. Kato, meanwhile, sat against a bookcase, breathing heavily, and regaining his composure.

"Why were those guys looking for you?" asked Wesley, taking a seat next to Kato. He softly patted the kinnara on the back.

"Because I'm a half-breed," Kato said, solemnly.

"Half-breed?" Milo asked. "I thought you said you were a kinnara."

"Well, yeah, I call myself a kinnara," Kato explained. "My mother was a human, and my dad was a garuda."

"Garuda?" asked Milo.

"It's a bird-person from Hindu legends," explained Wesley. "It's even more birdlike than a kinnara."

"Okay…" said Jackson, biting his lower lip. "That doesn't explain why those guys were looking for you, though."

"They want to unlock the doors to the Elemental Regions," said Kato.

Chance raised his eyebrows. "Okay. I think you might need to explain this a little more…From the beginning. 'Cause there's something I'm definitely not understanding here."

Kato motioned for the boys to follow him. He led them to a small wooden table in a far corner of the building. "No one comes to the prophecy section of the library. Everything here's too cryptic."

The boys all sat around the table.

"So," said Jackson. "Maybe you can explain this from the beginning."

Kato took a deep breath. "In the beginning — before there were animals, plants, or people — there were the Elements," he began.

"Yeah," said Wesley, as if it were obvious. "Nitrogen, Oxygen, Hydrogen, Helium — "

" — I think," interjected Jackson, "he means something more like Earth, Air, Fire, and Water."

Kato nodded to Jackson. "There were Twelve Elements. They made everything: the plants, the animals, your world, Acadie…everything." He looked to the other boys. "Then a Thirteenth Element appeared: The Element of Power.
 Then, sometime later, the original Twelve Elements disappeared," Kato continued. "They vanished, leaving only the Thirteenth Element. Leaving only Power. Since then, Power and its armies have been slowly taking over more-and-more of Acadie. Conquering us. People call Power 'the President'." Kato scoffed and with disdain. "No one elected 'President Power'."

"'President Power'?" asked Milo. "Was that the guy who was here? The guy who was looking for you?"

Kato shook his head. "Belial is one of the President's generals. He's a demon. The other three guys were just some agents: Agents that work for the President." Kato ran a hand through his feathered hairdo.

"Our world and your world used to be one," Kato continued. He held his hands together, intertwining his fingers. "The magic and the mundane used to exist together. But, as time passed, the two worlds separated." Kato untangled his fingers and move his fists apart." And, as they separated, the Twelve Elements took the magical lands they liked from your world and brought them here."

"Like the House of Wisdom," said Wesley. "They took it from our world and brought it to Acadie, right? That's why it disappeared from Baghdad hundreds of years ago."

Kato nodded to Wesley. "Other places too: El Dorado, the garden of Eden, the lost colony of Roanoke, and so on," Kato explained. "Each of the Elements ruled over its favorite 'lost land.' Each Element had its own 'realm'. Think of each of these Elemental Regions as a country. Acadie was at peace. The borders to all of the Regions of Acadie were open. There were no wars. Everyone was happy." He sighed.

"But things changed when the Elements disappeared." Kato continued. "When the Twelve Elements vanished, each of their Regions was sealed off from the rest of Acadie."

"Sealed-off?" asked Jackson.

"No one can go in or out of any of the Elemental Regions," Kato explained and brought a hand to his chest. "Except for half-breeds. There's something about the fact that we're half-magical and half-mundane that lets us walk through the doorways that separate these Regions from the rest of Acadie."

"So?" asked Wesley. "So you can walk into the garden of Eden. So what!? Why does this 'President Power' dipshit want you, or any half-breed for that matter?"

"Once the President takes over all of Acadie — including the sealed-off Elemental Regions — it'll be strong enough to break down the walls that separate Acadie from your world," Kato said with force.

"So — if he succeeds in taking over Acadie, then…" Chance gulped. "Then our world is next?"

"How bad could he really be? I mean, our world isn't exactly the model of peace and order." Wesley joked. "Sorry. That wasn't funny."

Kato shrugged. "Some people think the President wants to magically fuck with half-breeds. To find a way to use us to unlock — permanently unlock — the doorways to the Elemental Regions." He wagged his head from side-to-side. "I'm not so sure that's what Power really wants."

"What do you think the President wants?" asked Jackson.

Kato bit his lower lip. "There's an old prophecy," he explained, "about a group of warriors called the Tempest. According to the legend, the Tempest can walk through the doorways to the sealed-off Regions."

"Like half-breeds," interjected Milo.

Kato nodded. "Sort of. But, the Tempest Warriors can do more than just walk through these borders. They can unlock them."

"And if these doors are unlocked," added Milo. "Then the President's army can just invade the Elemental Regions?"

"Exactly!" said Kato. "I'm guessing the President thinks that the Tempest Warriors are half-breeds…or, are more likely to be half-breeds or something like that."

"So, then, the President wants to kidnap you on the off-chance that you're one of the Tempest Warriors," said Chance. "And, if you are, he wants you to unlock these doorways."

"Or kill me," said Kato. "Maybe both."

"Why would he want to kill the Tempest Warriors?" asked Wesley. "Wouldn't he want to keep them alive so he can use them to unlock the doorways?"

"There's more to the legend," said Kato. He paused for a moment then stood up and walked to a nearby shelf. The bird-boy shifted a few tomes around, then returned a few seconds later with a crystal and gem encrusted wooden cylinder. He uncapped the end of the tube, and withdrew a burned and damaged roll of parchment. Unraveling the scroll, Kato continued, "Most of the prophecy was destroyed, but we still have some of it."

Kato cleared his throat. "According to the prophecy, if all the Tempest Warriors work together, they can bring the Twelve Elements back to Acadie."

Wesley leaned over and began reading the scroll over Kato's shoulder. Only a fraction of the words were visible among its stains and burns. "The Peacock, a swordsman…The Wild Rose, a knight…The Butterfly, an archer," he read aloud. "Alone a Warrior can unlock a doorway…Together the Tempest can reawaken an Element."

"Are you even a warrior?" asked Milo.

Kato shook his head. "No."

"Is it possible for us to — to go back to our world?" asked Chance.

"Of course. Yeah." Kato nodded. "That's where you belong. Any portal you walk through should bring you right back."

"How does that work?" asked Wesley. "How did we get here to begin with?"

"There are hundreds of portals to Acadie in your world," said Kato.

"We didn't go through a portal," asserted Milo. "We walked through a bathroom door."

"It was both," explained Kato as if it were obvious. "Most portals look just like regular doorways. Most of the time you walk through that bathroom door, for example, you'll wind up in that bathroom. But," he held up a finger. "There's a small, one-in-a-million chance that you'll wind up here — or somewhere else in Acadie — instead."

"How?" asked Chance.

"Luck?" Kato shrugged. "Magic? Who knows?"

"The moon was in the second house, and Jupiter was aligned with Mars," said Wesley.

His comment was met with a bunch of stares.

"The Age of Aquarius." Wesley paused. "Does no one get my humor!?" he grumbled.

"So, I take it we're not the first people to travel from our world to Acadie," said Milo.

"Not by a long shot." Kato almost laughed. "Tons of humans have come here. My mother was from your world, for example. Famous people have come here! I hung out with James Barrie when he visited."

"J. M. Barrie?" asked Wesley. "The author of Peter Pan?"

"Mm-hmm!" Kato bit his lower lip and winked to Milo. "He was fun!"

"But, he died, like, eighty years before we were born!" declared Wesley.

"Like I said: Time doesn't work the same way here," said Kato.

"Well, at least that explains where he got the idea for Neverland," said Chance.

Jackson held his head in his hands for a moment. He readjusted his glasses and took a breath. "Come back with us," he said. "Come back to our world. Then you won't have to worry about the President, Belial, or his agents."

Kato hung his head, then lifted his bird-like leg up, resting his talons on the wooden table. "If I thought I could hide in your world, believe me: I would go back with you!" He sighed. "But you four should go back. It's safer where you're from."

"But, I like it here!" asserted Milo.

"Well," said Kato. "The library closes in about an hour. Enjoy it for now." He shrugged. "Maybe you'll make it back here one day."

For the remaining hour, Jackson explored the House of Wisdom, marveling at its architecture and décor. He counted six wings in the building, each with five floors. A repeating silver swirl-like design in the ornate tapestries lining the walls caught Jackson's eye. And, in the murals and paintings, he saw waves of color.

Milo showed a particular fascination with the patrons of the library. Without an ounce of apparent shyness, Milo approached a dozen-or-so of the library's visitors. He asked a man about his exotic bark-like skin and a woman about her horns and the pronounced eye in the middle of her forehead. He spent fifteen minutes trying to find the cecælia again.

Wesley hid in a small corner of the third floor, pouring over lost books that he had only ever read about. He grinned at being able to skim through the pages of On Sphere-Making and The Gospel of Eve. Even though the books were not in English, something about the magical atmosphere of the place allowed Wesley to read and understand them.

Chance stayed with Kato. He asked the birdlike boy about his life and habits, and the society of Acadie. He learned about strange places in this magical world: From the Desert Hook, a land populated by herds of centaurs, to the Forest Primeval, the command post of the War Gods.

And, as the hour waned, the boys regrouped.

Kato led them to a doorway in the library's basement. He gave each of them a goodbye high-five–and a hug for Chance. And the boys left the House of Wisdom.

Chapter 7
Out Around The Campfire

Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo emerged in a pile, tripping over one another onto the ground outside the bathroom. Soon, they pulled themselves into a standing position.

Laughing, Milo stretched and ran his fingers through his red hair. "That was weird." He reached toward Jackson and grabbed his arm. "That's not right," he exclaimed, looking at Jackson's watch.

"What's not right?" asked Wesley, cracking his knuckles.

"It's ten PM," Milo explained.

"So?" Chance asked.

"Do you remember what time we walked into Acadie?" Milo asked.

"Yeah, but I was wearing that watch the whole time we were in there," Jackson offered.

"Yeah!" continued Wesley. "Maybe electro-magic energy fucked with Jackson's watch."

Chance's eyes widened, and he held up a single finger. "I'll settle this. Wait here!"

Chance ran from the bathroom to Nevia Cabin. He went first to his own backpack and searched through its contents. After about thirty seconds, he gave up and began searching through Milo's luggage. Chance pulled a cheap, LED alarm clock out from among Milo's t-shirts, and he smiled when he found a bag of marshmallows among the clothing.

Chance ran back outside toward the rest of the boys, waving the bag of marshmallows like a flag. Through a chuckle, he announced, "It's ten-oh-three!" He tossed the bag of marshmallows to Milo. "I stole your marshmallows. It's ten-oh-three!"

"Shit!" shouted Wesley. "Shit! Shit! Shit! It was real! Shit!" He began pacing back and forth along the grass.

"Is that a happy or sad 'shit'?" asked Milo.

"I don't know," said Wesley. "I mean, on the one hand: Wow! A new world! We were really there. Magic and — " Wesley laughed. "On the other hand, what the fuck does science mean now? What does anything we know mean?"

"Maybe we should sit down and talk about this," suggested Jackson. He grabbed the marshmallows out of Milo's hand.

The boys arranged a series of logs and rocks around a pile of sticks. Wesley dragged an unusually large stone toward their makeshift campfire, turning it into a surprisingly comfortable seat. Jackson found two iron fireplace pokers in a small shed outside the cabin.

Each boy roasted a marshmallow over the crackling fire. Milo, who had chosen a stick that forked and branched, warmed four marshmallows at once.

"I kind of want to go back there," Milo explained. "It was new and different."

"No one there knew me," added Wesley, echoing the sentiment. "Sometimes I think it would be nice to…I don't know, run away, I guess."

"Why would you want to run away?" asked Chance, concern in his voice.

Wesley forced a very fake and uncomfortable laugh. "Do you know what my life here is like?" he asked. "I'm shunned in school. I'm in a goddamn group home, a half-step away from juvie, and — "

" — I hate to say it," Jackson interjected.

"Hate to say what?" There was malice in Wesley's voice.

"I hate to say it, but maybe you wouldn't be in this situation if you didn't go nuts and punch people who pissed you off all the time," Jackson said.

Wesley took a deep breath and looked away. "You think that's it? You think that's why I'm in a group home!? Is that what your shiny new foster parents told you, or was it people in school?"

"Let's try to calm down," Chance interjected.

"No!" shouted Wesley. "You wanna know the real reason I'm in a group home, Jackson Poe!? Your 'parents.' That's the reason!" Wesley thrust his hand down against the rock he was sitting on. "A year-and-a-half ago I thought — " he took a deep breath. " — I'm not sure what I thought. I…Mister and Missus Smythe weren't home. They were at some church conference or some shit." He wiped a tear from his eye. "I went into Mister Smythe's office and…" he sighed. He looked away from the rest of the boys with red eyes. "I looked at some porn."

"Everyone's looked at porn," Milo said.

Wesley turned to Milo and forced a laugh. "Gay porn, Milo." Wesley exhaled. "The Smythes found out. They called my social worker. I was one room over when Missus Smythe said, 'we don't want a godless pervert in our house.'"

Jackson spoke quietly, "Wesley, I — "

" — Suddenly," Wesley continued, "everyone at school knows or has heard the rumor that 'Wesley Rhodes is a faggot.' I lost count of how many kids have snickered behind my back or 'accidentally' shoved me in the hallway." He looked Jackson in the eye, "You know as well as I do that the Smythes are the type of people who would spread that around town just to — just to fuck with me." He clicked his tongue. "I don't know what else they told the social worker. But, instead of putting me in another foster home, I got shut away in the Vinci Home for Boys." He cleared his throat and leaned in, toward Jackson. "I had to get tough."

"So, are you gay then?" asked Milo. "I mean — " he held his hands up in surrender. "I'm just asking. I'm not making fun."

Wesley bit his lower lip and paused for a long moment. "Yeah. I — " he gulped. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

Jackson stood up and began walking toward Wesley. "Wesley, I — "

" — Save it, golden boy," Wesley said. "I don't need your pity."

Jackson sat down on the soft ground next to Wesley. "You know why I'm in foster care, right?" he asked.

Wesley didn't respond.

"When I was eight, my favorite TV show was Power Rangers Megaforce," Jackson began. "And my favorite Power Ranger was Jake: 'Megaforce Black.' I didn't like him because black was my favorite color or anything like that. Blue's my favorite color, actually…" he smiled. "Jake was the hottest."

Milo giggled.

Wesley glared at Milo.

Jackson continued speaking. "My mom and I used to joke that Jake was 'my boyfriend.' My dad never liked that." He shrugged. "My dad used to drink a lot. But even when he wasn't drunk, he'd…" Jackson paused, sighing. "He let us know when he was angry." Jackson curled his hand into a fist as if to explain what he meant.

"One day, my dad caught me fawning over Jake. I was lying on my tummy, staring up at the TV, thinking about how cool it was when Jake said 'Go! Go! Megaforce!'" Jackson continued. "When he punched me in the back of the head."

Wesley looked at Jackson intently. He slid off his rock and onto the ground. Wesley sat right up against Jackson, putting his arm around him.

"My mom tried to jump in the way — to protect me," Jackson explained. "I guess she thought…I don't know." Jackson wiped his red eyes and sobbed for a moment. "I watched him beat the shit out of her." He paused. "She died in the hospital three days later."

Jackson turned his head and looked Wesley in the eyes. "I didn't know your whole story, Wes." He exhaled. "I want to protect people, the way my mom wanted to protect me. It's just that violence, um…um…"

"Triggers you," Chance filled in for Jackson.

"Exactly," Jackson said. "Fighting should be for protecting people."

Chance stood up and walked toward Jackson and Wesley. "I guess it's my turn."

"Your turn?" asked Milo.

Chance sat down beside Jackson and folded his arms around his knees. "It's my fault my parents died," Chance began. "I — " he sighed. " — I have to be brave." He looked to Wesley and Jackson. "I made the dumb decision to come out to my parents while we were all in the car." He gulped. "I could've waited 'til we got home, but I just had to do it, right then and there. My mom freaked out and swerved the car."

"It's not your fault," said Wesley.

"It feels like my fault," replied Chance.

"None of it was any of our faults," said Jackson. "Life dealt us shitty hands, and shitty stuff happened to us because — " He put an arm around Chance and an arm around Wesley. " — because of who we are."

"Well fuck life!" said Wesley. "I — I don't mean it like that. Not in like a suicidal way. I mean…"

". . . You mean fuck society." Chance said. "Fuck what people think."

"Yeah," said Wesley. "Fuck it!"

"Yeah," Jackson continued. "If people don't like that we're gay, that's their problem." He nodded. "I'm cool with it."

The three boys hugged each for another minute without talking.

"Wow!" exclaimed Wesley, breaking the silence. "What are the chances?"

"The chances of what?" asked Chance.

"That three closeted gay kids get forced into the same cabin," Wesley said. He stood back up and sat back down on his rock.

"What do you mean?" asked Milo.

"I mean, statistically, gay people are maybe like eight percent of the population, but seventy-five percent of Nevia Cabin," Wesley explained.

"No," said Milo.

"Three-out-of-four is seventy-five percent," said Wesley, speaking a little slowly.

Milo paused. "Um…dude!" He held out his hands. "Do I have to fucking spell it out for you nimrods?"

Jackson, Wesley, and Chance said nothing.

"Yesterday, I gave a fucking blowjob to a dildo I carved out of wood!" Milo exclaimed. "Do I have to wear a rainbow flag as a cape for you fuckers to get it!?"

"I thought that you were just being funny," said Chance. "I kind of just thought you were a jokester."

"I am," replied Milo. "But when straight jokesters give fake blowjobs they don't tease the fucking tip with their tongue. Straight guys aren't experts at sucking cock."

"How are you an expert at sucking dick!?" said Jackson walking back to his log and sitting down. "Have you actually sucked a real dick before!?"

Milo suddenly got very quiet. "Maybe."

"You did!" Chance chuckled and shouted, walking back to his own seat. "You've sucked a real dick!"

Milo breathed in sharply. "More than one."

Jackson, Wesley, and Chance's eyes all widened at the same time.

"How many?" asked Jackson.

Milo looked up and thought. "Six."

"Anyone I know?" asked Jackson. "Someone at school?"

Milo leaned in and began whispering. "You guys cannot tell anyone, okay? Capiche?"

"Promise," said Chance.

Jackson echoed with "Of course."

And Wesley eagerly nodded and said, "Deal!"

Milo breathed out. "One of my foster dads started fucking me when I was nine," he said.

"Wait — you've been fucked!?" Wesley said.

"Let him finish!" Chance interjected.

"Please continue," Jackson said, engrossed in Milo's story.

"So, yeah. I've been sucking cock and getting fucked for three years now," Milo continued. "There was my foster dad," he held up one finger counting. "I used to give blow jobs to one of his work buddies too," he held up another finger. "Then I got put into a new foster home." He chuckled. "I…I kinda seduced my new foster dad." He held up a third finger. "He was just so hot!" Milo giggled. "Then, um, last year — Do you remember Mister Barker?" Milo asked.

"The Math teacher?" Jackson asked. "You sucked off Mister Barker!?"

Milo nodded.

"He is really sexy," Jackson said.

"I used to 'stay late' during recess like three times a week just so I could lick his balls," Milo said breathily. "But…Mister Murphy's dick tasted even better."

"The gym teacher!?" Jackson's jaw dropped. "Seriously?"

"He used to get really sweaty running around during Phys. Ed.," Milo explained. "I couldn't help myself: Sweaty guys are like, I dunno, muskier or something. Sex with a sweaty guy is just like a billion times better!"

"That's five," said Wesley."

"Huh?" said Chance.

"You said you've had sex with six guys," Wesley continued. "Two foster dads, two teachers, and one of your foster dads' friends: That's five guys."

Milo paused. "Okay — You really have to keep this one quiet." He gulped. "Last summer and this summer…I've been having tons of sex with Tank."

"Camp counselor Tank?" Chance asked dumbfounded. He pointed to Tank's cabin. "Tank who sleeps right over there, in a cabin like ten feet away from ours!?"

"I don't believe it!" Wesley exclaimed. "You're lying!"

"Want me to prove it?" Milo asked.

"Yeah!" Wesley challenged.

Milo bit a marshmallow off his stick and swallowed. "Jackson, what time is it?"

Jackson looked at his watch. "Eleven-thirty."

Milo nodded. "In a half hour — assuming you fuckers were sleeping — I was supposed to sneak out of our cabin and into Tank's." Milo smiled and took another bite of another marshmallow. "Wait until like twelve-ten or twelve-fifteen — By that point, Tank will be too into it to notice. Sneak out of the cabin, and quietly and sneakily look into the side window of Tank's cabin."

"And you'll be blowing him?" Wesley asked, still unsure.

"Maybe," said Milo. "By that point, I might be doing somethin' else to him. He's got a huge dick, and he's pretty damn kinky."

"How kinky?" asked Jackson.

"Watch, and you'll find out." Milo winked.

Chapter 8
At Least Nine Inches

With the lights off and the shades drawn, Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo laid in their beds. They waited on pins-and-needles until midnight.

"It's twelve o'clock," Chance said anxiously, his hands trying to cover his tiny stiffy poking at the inside of the boxer shorts he was wearing as pajamas.

"Give it a minute," Milo said. "If I rush out of here too quickly, he might know something's up." Milo reached over and turned on a small flashlight on the nightstand beside his bed.

Jackson, likewise, grabbed a large, LED lantern on his own bedside table and flipped it on, brightening the whole cabin with soft light.

Milo rolled out of his bed, stretched, and began peeling off his shirt.

"What are you doing?" asked Wesley.

"Getting ready," Milo explained. "He'll love it if I just show up at his door butt naked."

Milo kicked off his sneakers and pulled his shorts and underwear down in one fell swoop. Milo stood in the middle of the cabin, completely nude, and extremely erect. His little two-and-a-half inch [6cm] dicklette was throbbing and pointing straight out from his crotch.

Milo reached into his shower kit and pulled out his bottle of oil.

"What's that?" asked Jackson.

"Lavender essential oil," Milo explained. He placed a drop on a few of his pressure points and rubbed some of the oil onto his little, pink asshole. He put the oil back into his basket and smiled. "Wish me luck." He grabbed a pair of purple pajama bottoms out of his bag, winked to the other three boys, and walked out of the cabin.

"Goddamnit," said Wesley. "He's really gonna do it!"

Jackson, Wesley, and Chance impatiently waited as they had been instructed.

After fifteen minutes, Wesley jumped out of his bed with impatient vigor. "I can't take it anymore," he whispered. "Let's go look already!"

With the little tents in their pajamas leading the way, the three boys tiptoed out of Nevia Cabin. After making sure the coast was clear, they snuck toward Tank's cabin, ducking down and keeping low. Each boy carefully covered his own crotch, ineffectively hiding his arousal.

"The light is on inside Tank's cabin," Wesley explained.

"So?" asked Chance.

"Since it's light inside and dark outside, he won't be able to see us out the window," Wesley continued.

Jackson gulped and lifted his head slowly. His eyes focused as he peeped through the glass. "Woah!" he said quietly.

"Are they having sex?" asked Chance, lifting his own head to look inside. "Woah!"

Wesley followed suit and peered inside the window beside Jackson and Chance. "Holy fuck."

Tank's body was even more impressive without clothes on. His dark skin was covered in hair and intricate tattoos on his arms and legs. Muscles rippled from each of his giant limbs, and his whole body glistened with sweat.

Tank put one foot onto the edge of his bed and kept the other foot on the floor. Sticking out in front of the camp counselor was his massive, uncut cock. The giant dick throbbed and bounced in the air. It was significantly bigger than the little twigs between the legs of Jackson, Wesley, or Chance.

"That has to be at least nine inches [22.5cm]," whispered Jackson. He quickly adjusted his glasses.

In reality, the monster cock was 9 ½[24cm] inches long, and just under 7-inches[17.5] around. Tank's tangerine-sized balls hung like fresh fruit and dripped with sweat like his cock-head dripped with precum.

In front of Tank was Milo. The little, redheaded boy was on all fours with his back arched, on the bed. He parted his lips ever-so-slightly and purred like a kitten. Milo crawled across the mattress, his eyes alternating between looking at Tank's face and looking at the man's massive cock. The boy grinned as he knelt in front of Tank, then he leaned forward.

Milo thrust his face into Tank's crotch, right between the man's balls and his thick thighs. He began licking Tank's sweaty groin. Milo put one hand on Tank's knee and used the other to gently squeeze the counselor's ass as he licked.

"You like the taste, little slut?" Tank groaned as he forcefully grabbed the back of Milo's head.

"Mm-hmm" Milo moaned as he slobbered over Tank's groin. He tried to say, "I love it!" but, as Tank's hand kept Milo's head pinned, the boy's voice came out sounding mumbled.

Tank pulled Milo head back by his hair. "Your face is covered in sweat, bitch," he growled.

"You taste so good, Daddy." Milo was out-of-breath as he spoke.

With one hand still holding the boy by his hair, Tank began lightly slapping Milo's face with his cock. "You like Daddy's cock, baby boy?"

Milo moaned, "I love — "

" — Shut up and suck it, whore!" Tank aimed his cock at Milo's pink lips and began thrusting. "Take it all, faggot!"

Milo coughed at first, but quickly readjusted his position and relaxed. Still kneeling, he kept just the thick head of the cock in his mouth: his lips were now stretched to an obscene width.

Milo reached up with one hand, to grasp the base of Tank's cock, right above the balls. Milo placed his other hand on top of Tank's, which was still latched to the back of his head. He began ducking lower, tilting his head back, and shifting Tank's cock downward. Soon, the monster cock was pointed directly at the mattress, and Milo's face was right between Tank's legs.

Milo began slowly rising, aiming the cock down his throat as he did so. Years of practice had destroyed his gag reflex.

Milo sputtered a little bit as the giant dick started entering his throat, then more as Tank's balls hit his chin. Soon, Milo had the entire length of the cock in his little throat. This caused his neck to bulge slightly.

Milo moaned and began sitting back up, keeping the cock inside him as he moved. He kneeled again in front of Tank, only now much more than just the head of the cock was inside of Milo. The little boy inhaled the aroma from his man's bush of thick pubes and moaned.

"All adjusted, dirty little boy?" Tank asked.

"Mmm," Milo moaned in response.

"Good." Without warning, Tank pulled half his cock out of Milo's throat and thrust forward with force. He did it again and harder. The counselor began face-fucking Milo with gusto and vigor. And, with each thrust of his hips, he pulled Milo's head into his crotch.

"Yeah, take it you little fuck! Take my cock down your baby throat!" He shouted.

Milo wrapped both of his arms around Tank's waist and began massaging and kneading the man's ass as his throat was roughly fucked.

As this continued, the boy would occasionally sputter, causing a mixture of saliva and precum to dribble out of his mouth, around the shaft of Tank's monster, and onto the boy's chin.

Milo's little baby dicklette was throbbing as the little boy humped the air that separated him from his man. He started moaning louder, breathing harder, and humping faster. His little cocklette wagged up-and-down so quickly, it almost looked like it was nodding.

Tank pulled his cock from Milo's mouth. "Did Daddy's dick make you dry cum, fag-boy?"

"Fuck yeah," Milo answered breathily, leaning forward to stick his little, pink tongue under Tank's foreskin.

"I love that you don't even need to touch yourself to shoot." Tank complimented, as he let Milo's tongue swirl around his dickhead. Then, rather abruptly, Tank pulled the boy's face into his hairy balls. "Now suck my nuts. Give my balls a nice tongue bath, whore!" he ordered.

Milo moaned approvingly and began licking the massive testicles, kissing them, and sucking on the scrotum skin.

"Really wash them for me, you dirty little slut," Tank moaned. "That's your job, faggot; that's what you're good for: to serve men."

"Mm-hmm," Milo groaned in agreement.

The man tugged Milo out from his crotch and pushed the boy down onto his back on the bed. Tank jumped onto the mattress and sunk to his knees. He grabbed Milo's little legs, pushed them back, and spread them, revealing Milo's tiny, pink hole.

Tank growled as he rubbed his cockhead against Milo's rosebud. "Ready for me to breed you, little cum-dumpster?" Tank moaned.

"Fuck me, Daddy!" Milo replied, gripping the bedsheets and pushing out.

Milo winced and groaned as the head of Tank's massive phallus made its way inside of his little body. His hole was spread wide, as Tank pushed in further without remorse.

"You like that?" Tank asked. "Goddamnit, you're so tight!"

"Yeah," Milo said quickly, in between labored breaths. "Push it all in," he said.

"You sure you can take it so fast, little slut?" Tank asked.

Milo nodded. "Yeah." He moaned equal parts pleasure and pain.

Tank reached upward and placed his giant hands on Milo's shoulders. He thrust his cock forward at the same moment that he pushed Milo's body into his.

"YEOW!" Milo released a shout as Tank bottomed out inside his little body.

"Too much, too fast, little boy?" Tank asked.

Milo groaned for a minute, "No way!" he said. "There's no such thing as too much!" Milo chuckled, opened his eyes, and wiped a tear. He smiled up at Tank. "I can take bigger! In fact," he huffed as he breathed, "I think your cock might be too small for me." He stuck out his tongue at Tank playfully.

Tank smiled down at the eager little slut. "If my cock is too small," he reached down and flicked Milo's throbbing little stiffy, "then what's this?"

"A minuscule stack-of-buttons," Milo replied he winked at Tank. He reached up and placed his arms around the man's neck.

Tank leaned down, letting the boy pull his face closer. He opened his mouth as he began kissing the boy.

Tank began humping Milo's little baby ass as he passionately kissed the child. They both moaned and sighed as their tongues massaged each other in their linked mouths.

Amid their make-out session, Milo started moaning loudly. His little baby cocklette throbbing and thrusting by itself as it laid on his tummy. It was almost slapping Milo's stomach as it throbbed.

"Squeeze my dick, little boy," Tank ordered, as he pulled out of the kiss.

As Milo flexed his ass and tried to tighten his hole. "Oooh! AH!" He groaned. "I — I'm cumming again!" the little boy announced.

Milo tossed his head back in ecstasy. His hands fell to his sides, and his back arched upwards. Milo's eyes rolled back in his head, and a high-pitched moan escaped his lips. "Uh-uh-uh-uh," he grunted each time Tank pounded into his tiny ass.

"Fuck," chuckled Tank. He reached down and began rubbing Milo's trunk. With his fingers spread wide, Tank's hand was almost as big as the boy's little chest. His thumb and pinkie finger rested on Milo's left and right nipples, respectively. "You're such a little slut."

Milo nodded and smiled. He reached forward, grabbed Tank's arm, and lifted it upward. "Lean forward, Daddy," he said.

As Tank obliged, Milo opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and thrust it into Tank's hairy and sweaty armpit. With vigorous lust, Milo moaned, licked and sniffed, the musky alcove.

All the while, Tank continued humping Milo's young ass. "You're such a dirty boy!" he shouted. Tank pulled his right arm away from Milo's face and replaced it with his left.

Milo shoved his face forward again and began eagerly sucking the sweat and filth from the man's pit.

"You're the only little fucker I've ever met who loves sweat so much," Tank said.

Milo smacked his lips as he pulled his face out of Tank's armpit. A few stray hairs stuck to his face, which was now glistening with sweat. "It tastes good," Milo explained as if it was obvious. "Oooh!" he groaned as Tank's giant cock hit a sweet spot up his ass again.

Tank reached behind Milo and placed his hand on the small of the boy's back. The two leaned back as one unit until Tank was sitting up on the bed, and Milo was eagerly bouncing in his lap. The boy's tongue still swirled around in Tank's armpit as the two fucked.

Tank grabbed a handful of Milo's orange hair again and pulled the head back. He leaned down and kissed Milo passionately on the mouth. His breathing was quickening. He was meeting Milo's every bounce with an increasingly powerful upward push. "I'm — I'm gonna cum in a minute, faggot. Where do you want it?"

Without missing a beat, Milo practically jumped off Tank's lap. The over-nine-inch cock sliding out of the boy's ass with a sputter and a pop. He sunk down until he was lying on his belly in front of the giant camp counselor. "Cum in my mouth, Daddy," he said as he kissed the man's balls. "I wanna taste your jizz."

"You wanna feel my cum on your little tongue, whore?" Tank asked. He reached down and started to jack off his monster cock.

Milo reached forward and pushed Tank's hands away. "That's my job." He chuckled and began pumping Tank's dick. He let his lips glide upward until he was kissing the cockhead, which was now dripping precum like a fountain.

Tank leaned back with his head at the foot of the bed. His breathing rate was increasing. He was trying so desperately to hump Milo's mouth as he approached closer-and-closer to orgasm.

Milo readjusted himself, so he was sitting cross-legged between Tank's spread legs. He pulled on the bottom of the man's monster and sucked the head.

"I'm getting really close, little bitch," Tank moaned.

"I can take it, Daddy!"

Tank groaned, tugged a fistful of Milo's hair, and began shooting.

Milo latched his lips around Tank's quirting cockhead and did his best to swallow as shot-after-shot of thick semen unloaded into his mouth.

Somewhere after the tenth glob of spunk filled Milo's mouth, the little boy pulled his head backward and began groaning. His little baby dicklette was throbbing again. Six ropes of hot, sticky cum, thick like molasses, landed on Milo's face and chest. It created a beautiful flowing pattern of white slime, flowing from Milo's forehead, down his nose, over his mouth and chin, across his nipples, and ending in a pool on his belly-button.

Both man and boy fell backward.

Tank groaned with exhaustion.

Milo sighed happily. "You're fucking awesome, Daddy," he said, breathily. He sat back up and scooted back toward the head of the bed.

"That was great!" Tank replied.

Barely a minute had gone by before Milo started talking again. "Have you ever thought about a three-way?" he asked. He lifted up Tank's right leg and brought the man's foot to his face.

"Do you mean with another man or another boy?" Tank asked. He furrowed his brow as he watched Milo. "What are you doing?"

"Sucking your toes," Milo answered honestly. "And, I don't know really. Either-or, I guess." Milo shrugged and stuck his tongue in between Tank's first and second toes. "It would be cool to be double-fucked. Like to suck one guy while another guy fucked me. You know: make two men feel good at once," he said. "But…" he planted a kiss on the middle of Tank's foot "…I think I could make you feel a billion times better if I had an extra set of hands — and another tongue — helping me out."

"You're one dirty little fucker," Tank said. He pulled his right foot away from Milo's mouth and replaced it with his left.

"Yep," Milo agreed. "Am I dirty because I want a three-way, or because I'm kissing your feet?" He stuck Tank's big toe into his mouth and moaned.

"Both!" Tank laughed. "Suck my foot, little bitch. Give them a bath."

Milo ran his tongue up-and-down Tank's giant foot — which was roughly the length of Milo's whole head.

"I don't think any of the other counselors would approve of what I'm doing with you, slut," Tank said, casually, as he watched Milo perform.

"What about another camper?" Milo asked. He briefly glanced at the window. He began sucking Tank's next toe down the line.

"Vitale always gave me gay-vibes," Tank said. "And he is kinda cute. Do you know another camper who's a faggot like you?"

Milo choked up. "No." He gulped. "But yeah, Caden Vitale is kinda cute," he shrugged. "Wesley, Chance, and Jackson are all cute too."

"Your bunkmates don't exactly strike me as fags," Tank said. "But then again, neither did you at first." He laughed. "Are you done with my feet yet?"

Milo planted kisses on each toe and slithered his tongue between them. "I'll be done in a minute," Milo teased. True to his word, a minute later, Milo put Tank's foot down. He got back on his hands-and-knees and began crawling toward his man.

"What are you doing now, faggot?" Tank asked jovially.

"I gotta finish giving you your bath," Milo explained. "Spread your legs."

Tank chuckled and complied.

Milo ducked down low and lifted Tank's massive balls up with his little hands. He lapped his tongue at the man's hairy taint for a brief moment before pulling back. "Lift your legs a little bit, Daddy."

Tank rolled his eyes, spread his legs wider and lifted his ass from the mattress.

Without a moment's hesitation, Milo launched himself forward and began eagerly licking Tank's sweaty asshole.

"Damn!" Tank growled. "You're a really filthy little bitch! Keep rimming my hole, whore!"

Tank lifted himself off the mattress, got on his knees, and moved around, so he was holding onto the cheap, iron headboard.

Milo followed Tank's movements, crawling behind him. He reached up, spread Tank's asscheeks, and sniffed. "Mmmm." He planted a kiss on the man's hairy asshole. The little boy moaned as he slid his tongue out of his mouth. He began passionately making out with the sweaty hole.

"Shove your tongue up there, bitch!"

Milo didn't hesitate. He pointed his tongue and Tank's opening and pushed it inside. He swirled it around while kneading the man's asscheeks with his little hands.

"You like Daddy's ass, don't you?" Tank grunted. "You're a fucking filthy, ass-licking, slut!"

"Damn right!" Milo replied. The boy continued rimming Tank's ass for another few minutes without ceasing. Finally, he pulled his head back out and let his tongue glide downward. He slid his face between the man's legs before coming up on the other side and kissing Tank's heavy balls. "Got any more cum for me, Daddy?" he asked.

"I just came fifteen minutes ago, cum dumpster." Tank tousled Milo's hair. He rubbed his hardening cock over Milo's face. It was not fully hard yet, and not yet dripping. "You're a little addict, aren't you?"

Milo nodded eagerly.

"Hold off for now," Tank said. "You can suck me again in the morning. Let my balls refill."

Milo grumbled with disappointment.

Tank laughed. He thrust his hands under Milo's armpits and lifted the boy upwards. He kissed the redhead's forehead, careful not to go near Milo's mouth. Tank fell backward into a laying position, the bed frame creaking under his weight.

Tank pulled Milo closer, hugging him tightly.

Milo put his head on the man's chest and sighed happily and contently. "I'm holding you to that by the way."

"Holding me to what?"

"I expect a load of cum in the morning." Milo stuck his tongue out at Tank playfully, reached down, and tugged lightly at Tank's cock.

In response, Tank slapped Milo's little ass, eliciting a giggle from the preteen boy.

As the two drifted off to sleep, Milo waved, winked and blew a kiss at the window, wondering if his friends were watching from outside.

Chapter 9
Fantasies

A beam of sunlight broke through the clouds and the shadows cast by the leaves. It struck Chance's hair, then his forehead, and finally his right eye. He groaned, yawned, and opened his eyes.

Chance kicked the covers off his bed while he stretched. He laid on his back on top of the cheap mattress, his orange boxer shorts tented. Chance lifted the waistband of his underwear. He looked at his hairless crotch and tiny cocklette: It was still hard after all he had seen last night. He reached inside his boxers and poked his little pink dickhead with his index finger.

Wesley groaned as he rolled around on his own bed.

Chance quickly stopped looking at his baby dicklette and rolled over onto his belly, hiding his stiffy. He stared out the window behind his bed. There was a large, taupe structure adhered to the outside of the window above Chance's bed. Chance squinted his eyes and leaned in closer to examine this object.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" came Jackson's voice from a few beds over.

Chance paused for a moment. "I think it's a cocoon. But it's enormous."

"Like a butterfly cocoon?" Jackson asked.

Chance grabbed his pillow, and — using it as a shield to cover his still-stiff crotch — leaned back into a kneeling position. "Yeah, I think so. But, like some giant butterfly."

The cabin door creaked open, and Tank walked inside.

"Up and at 'em, boys," announced the giant camp counselor in his booming voice. "Breakfast is in fifteen minutes. Did any of you shower yet?"

Wesley groaned loudly and painfully lifted his head off his pillow. "I'm too tired!" he grumbled.

"Well, if you want to eat, you gotta go get breakfast," Tank said.

"I'm still full from last night," said Milo. He sat up in his bed, revealing a bare chest.

Tank's eyes widened as he looked to Milo. He stammered for a moment.

"From the marshmallows," Milo said quickly. "The four of us kinda made our own campfire last night."

Tank breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh — oh. Good," he said. "I'm glad to see you four are starting to get along."

Jackson yawned loudly. "I'm still tired after last night. We were up late!"

Chance patted his tiny belly. "And I'm still full," he added.

Milo folded his hands into and looked up at Tank with big eyes, "Can we skip breakfast and sleep in? Please." He batted his eyelashes. "I won't tell if you won't."

Tank bit his lower lip. "Alright," he said. "But," he pointed to Milo, "I may have to find some sort of extra chores for you to make up for this."

"Great," Wesley mumbled, his head still firmly attached to his pillow.

"I'll cover for you," said Tank. "But none of you better be late for lunch or any afternoon activities." He looked around the room at the four boys. "Are we clear?"

"Crystal clear," replied Jackson eagerly, placing his left hand on his heart.

Tank shut the door, exited the cabin, and shut the door behind him.

"Damn!" Chance said. "You have Tank whipped." He laughed.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Jackson giggled. "He was so afraid you were going to turn him in or something."

Milo shrugged and blushed. He stepped out of his bed, revealing that he was completely naked. Splotches of dried cum were stuck to his chest. "I would never turn him in! I just didn't want to go get breakfast right away."

"When did you come in last night?" asked Wesley. He finally sat up in his bed.

"I woke up when Tank got up to shower," Milo explained. "He told me to get dressed and sneak back in here before you guys noticed I was gone."

"Well, um." Jackson looked Milo up-and-down. "You didn't really get dressed like he told you to."

"I was too tired." Milo stuck out his tongue. "Plus, I only follow his orders when I want to."

With an immense burst of energy, Wesley jumped up from his bed and ran toward Milo's. He sat on the foot of Milo's mattress. "That was fucking amazing last night!"

"Yeah!" Chance echoed. He walked toward the other three boys and sat on a bed closer to Milo's. "I can't believe you actually did all that!"

"So…" began Jackson. "Did — um…" he gulped. "Did Tank keep his 'promise'?"

"What promise?" asked Milo.

"He promised to…y'know." Jackson bit his lower lip. He whispered, "give you more semen."

"I still can't believe you asked him for 'another load of cum,' you perv!" Wesley jokingly threw a pillow at Milo's naked body.

"What's wrong with that?" Milo flicked his stiffening dicklette. "I like cum."

"So, he gave you more, um, sem — cum this morning, then?" asked Jackson.

"Hell, yeah!" Milo exclaimed.

"What's it taste like?" asked Chance.

Milo looked up. "Like if someone mixed bleach and honey together," he explained. "But every man's cum is a little different."

"That sounds like a horrible combination," Wesley grumbled.

"Nuh-uh!" Milo shook his head, "It's better than ice cream!" He grinned broadly. "Anyway…." Milo walked over to his nightstand and grabbed his shower basket and a large, purple towel. "I'm gonna go wash up."

"No way," asserted Wesley. "You're not getting out of it that easy!" He ran to the front of the cabin. He held his hands out and blocked the doorway. A tiny tent stuck out from his boxer briefs. "You have to tell us everything. I want to know it all."

"Yeah!" echoed Jackson.

Milo raised an eyebrow and smirked as he approached Wesley. He flicked the front of Wesley's tented boxer shorts with his index finger.

Wesley's face reddened, and he dropped his hands to cover his crotch.

"Come on, Milo," Chance pleaded. "Can't you answer like a few more questions?"

Milo chuckled. "I'll answer all your questions." He smiled. "But I need to go wash up." He shrugged. "Just ask me the questions in the bathroom." Milo pushed the cabin door open and walked outside into the summer air naked.

Once in the bathroom, Milo began his daily routine. He filled up his purple enema bulb, lifted one of his legs onto the sink counter, and inserted the nozzle up his little hole. This time, though, he had an audience of three other boys watching him.

"So, was I crazy," began Wesley, "or did I see you lick Tank's ass last night?"

"Both," answered Milo. He took his leg off the counter.

"Why would lick someone's butt?" asked Jackson.

Milo chuckled. "Because I was horny!" he explained. "When you're really horny, gross stuff seems sexy." Milo shrugged. "Besides, ass doesn't actually taste bad."

"It's a butt!" shouted Wesley.

"How does it not taste bad?" Chance asked.

"Because it's sweaty," Milo answered. "Did any of you ever smell a guy? Like a hot guy?" He looked to Jackson. "Haven't you ever smelled Mister Murphy during gym?"

Jackson screwed up his face. "Yeah…."

"And how did he smell?" Milo continued.

"Really good, now that I think about it," Jackson answered. "But he was wearing cologne or something."

Milo laughed. "No! Mister Murphy doesn't wear cologne. Believe me — I know. Man sweat just smells good." He shrugged and walked into a toilet stall. "Well, to me it does anyway. And probably to the rest of the gay boys in the world."

"Yeah," said Wesley. "Well, I guess that explains why you licked his armpits. But that still doesn't explain why you licked his ass!"

"Or his feet," added Chance.

"Men smell good," asserted Milo. "Men taste good. Men feel good." He stood up, flushed, and approached the sink again to refill his enema. "If you guys ever decide to have sex with a guy, maybe you'll learn that." He finished refilling the purple enema bulb and turned the water off. "Besides, even if men didn't taste good, I'd still do it."

"Why?" asked Jackson.

Milo blushed. "Whenever I'm with a guy, he…" a dreamy look washed over his face. ". . . Even when guys call me names during sex, like 'slut' and 'whore,' they — they moan." He smiled. "They tell me how good it feels; how warm my mouth is; how tight my ass is. And they always cum." He sighed. "Making a man feel good is better than an orgasm. It may sound stupid, but…there's nothing I like more than knowing I made a man happy. That I gave him real pleasure."

Jackson, Wesley, and Chance stood quietly for a long moment, while Milo continued giving himself an enema.

"I still don't know if I could ever lick a man's ass," said Wesley. "I mean, sucking cock, sure. Maybe. If I found the right guy. But — "

" — You would," interjected Milo. "If you were with a hot guy who was saying all the right things, you'd give him a rimjob."

"I don't know," challenged Chance.

Milo thought for a moment. "Chance, who's the hottest guy in the whole world."

Chance replied, "Chris Hemsworth," without missing a beat.

Milo laughed. "Yeah, he's super-sexy." He looked at Jackson. "Who do you think is the hottest?"

"Um…" Jackson blushed. "Joe Manganiello."

"Hell yeah!" said Milo. "He's tasty!" He pointed to Wesley. "What about you?"

Wesley shifted his weight. "Don't laugh okay?"

Jackson walked over to Wesley and held his hand. "No more laughing."

Wesley smiled at Jackson before looking back to Milo. "Okay…Zayn Malik."

"From One Direction?" asked Chance.

"What? He's hot!" asserted Wesley. "And manly!"

"Okay, okay!" Milo held up his hands. "All three of you sit down on the floor and get comfortable."

Without complaint, the boys complied. Jackson leaned up against the wall, and Chance and Wesley laid down on the tiled floor a few feet away from one another.

"Now," began Milo, "I want you to relax and picture the hottest guy in the world. Chance, picture Chris Hemsworth. Jackson, picture Joe Manganiello. And Wesley, imagine Zayn Malik."

Wesley giggled.

"Shut up," ordered Jackson, quietly.

"Sorry. Sorry," replied Wesley. "I'll be serious."

"Okay," said Milo. "Now, imagine your man standing in front of you. He's hotter in person than he was in any magazine or movie. He's taller. His muscles are bigger. He's sexier than you could ever imagine.

"Now watch him while he takes his shirt off. Slowly," Milo continued. "His chest is a little hairier than you remember from all his pictures. And he has a treasure trail of more hair leading from his belly button down to below his jeans. And you can see a big, big bulge in those jeans.

"He walks up to you and grabs your shoulders. He's a little rough, but it doesn't hurt. And he looks into your eyes and smiles." Milo adopted a deep voice and said, "'Are you ready, little boy?'" Then, he continued in his regular voice. "He pulls you in and kisses you. It's passionate! He parts your lips with his tongue and then pushes it inside. He wraps his big hands around your body, and starts making out with you like you're the last boy on the planet."

Almost involuntarily, Chance opened his mouth while he listened to Milo. He let his own tongue sneak out from behind his lips.

"You guys make out for five minutes. Just kissing, while he keeps rubbing your body with his big, manly hands," said Milo, his voice calm and relaxing. "Then he pulls back and looks you up and down. He tells you, 'Take your shirt off, little boy.' You reach for the bottom of your t-shirt and start removing it. But the man isn't that patient. He grabs your sleeves and pulls. He tears your shirt in half, leaving it in shreds on the floor. He kisses you again and says, 'Damn, you're sexy.'"

Involuntarily, Jackson let out a little moan.

"But he's not done," Milo continued. "Now he gets on his knees in front of you and grabs the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down to the ground, leaving you completely naked. You try to cover up, but he stops you. He holds your hands, forcefully at first, but then, sweetly." He took on his deeper voice again, "'Don't worry, little boy. I'm going to take real good care of you.' He leans forward and kisses your cheek. Then he starts rubbing you. His hands flow all over your skin. Up your legs. Down your back. He stops on your butt and starts rubbing your cheeks softly. It sends tingles throughout your body when he touches you."

Wesley started breathing more heavily.

"He tells you how beautiful you are, and how much you mean to him. He kisses you again and then starts to nibble your ear. When he gets really close, you can smell him. It's sweat, but it's sweet. It smells like springtime and warmth." Milo sighed. "Then the man stands up and says, 'Get on your knees, little boy.' And, before you realize what you're doing, you're on your knees. You watch as he unzips his jeans. He's not wearing any underwear. And he has the biggest dick you've ever seen!"

"Bigger than Tank's?" asked Chance. He gulped.

"Much bigger. It's like the size of a ruler: a foot [30cm] long," Milo answered. "He steps forward and touches the tip of his cock to your mouth and says, 'suck it'. You can't help but open up. The dick tastes amazing! It's sweet and savory at the same time. It glides in and out of your mouth and on your tongue. And it fits perfectly, like a glove.

"Your man looks down at you and says how much he loves you. He says how you make him feel so good. He says he wishes he could always be with you. He wants to love you and protect you forever." Milo exhaled. "He says that he doesn't think it's possible that you could make him feel any better. You take his cock out of your mouth and smile up at him. Your hero. The hottest man alive. You say that you want to try to make him feel even better." Milo changed addressing the boys directly, "Do you want to make him feel even better?"

"Fuck yeah," replied Wesley breathily.

"Yes!" Jackson crooned, as he scooted further forward so that he too was lying on the floor.

"Uh-huh," said Chance through a sigh.

Milo grinned. "He tells you to lay on your back. He stands over you, with one foot on either side of your head. You can really smell his sweat now: it's musky and full. You've never smelled anything like it. He starts to kneel down, getting closer and closer to you. His big dick is only a few inches from your face.

"Then, he shifts his weight, and you see his ass descending," Milo continued. "He lowers himself until his butt is just in front of your mouth and nose. The smell is even stronger now. It's magical! 'Can you do it for me, little boy?' he asks as he kneels down even slower. 'It would feel so good!'

"You don't even hesitate. You lean your face forward, stick out your tongue, and start licking him. You don't care anymore. You just want to make your man feel good. Your tongue and lips dance over his skin and wash over all of his crack. And while you do that, he keeps on groaning and moaning. He says 'that's right, keep licking,' and 'I love you so much right now, little boy.' And you know that, right now, at this moment, he means it."

Milo addressed the boys directly again. "Alright, open your eyes."

Jackson, Wesley, and Chance all opened their eyes.

"Now look down." Milo giggled. "All three of you are hard as rocks!"

Chance reached down and covered his tented boxer shorts.

"See — I told you that if things played out right, you'd lick a man's ass," Milo walked to the sink and began to fill up his enema again. "And you'd like it too."

"Okay," said Wesley. "I admit it. You've convinced me. I'd probably lick a man's ass too."

"Does an enema hurt?" asked Jackson as he stood back up, his hands blocking the tent in his pajama bottoms.

"No," said Milo. "It feels weird the first couple times, but it doesn't hurt." He shrugged. "You wanna try?" He reached into his shower basket and removed another enema, this one with a red bulb. "What about you, Chance? Wesley?"

The boys didn't reply right away.

"I — " Jackson gulped. "I'll try it." He looked at Chance and Wesley. "If I do it, will you guys try too?"

Chance paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Um…yeah," Wesley answered.

Jackson took off his blue t-shirt over his glasses and carefully slid down his teal pajama bottoms. His body was very much like Milo's: He had a toned chest; small feet; and a tiny, 2.5-inch [6cm], circumcised dicklette. His skin was a little tanner than Milo's or Chances, and a little lighter than Wesley's. He reached down and covered his stiffy for a second, then removed his hand. "I'm ready," he announced.

Milo helped Jackson fill the enema bulb up, and explained to him how to work it.

Nervously, Jackson reached behind himself and aimed the nozzle at his virginal, pink, asshole. He let out a shocked yet pleasurable sigh as the warm water gushed inside him.

"Does it hurt?" asked Wesley.

"It feels weird," answered Jackson. "But it doesn't hurt."

While Jackson waited with the water inside him, Wesley started to undress. Wesley turned his back when he pulled down his cheap, white boxer briefs. His ass was round, muscular, and smooth. When he turned back around, his little cocklette became visible. Standing perfectly erect, it was the same size as Jackson's and Milo's, complete with a little pinkish head. He started to reach to cover himself, but, at the last moment, flexed instead. Then he laughed.

Milo washed the tip of the red enema with soap and water, then showed Wesley how to fill it.

Like Jackson, Wesley shuddered a bit before finally releasing the water inside himself. But, once it all flooded inside him, he groaned. "Woah!" he said, as a strange 'full' feeling overtook him from the inside. "It's warm."

Jackson relieved himself in a stall while Wesley held the water inside himself. Finally, it was Chance's turn.

"I'm not sure," Chance said nervously. "Can I keep my clothes on?"

"Not unless you want your shorts to get all wet," explained Milo.

"Come on," said Wesley. "We all stripped!"

"We got your back, Chance," said Jackson. He walked toward Chance and squeezed his shoulder in a friendly way. Jackson looked to everyone else. "New rule!" he announced. "From now on, all four of us have each others' backs. Forever. We can't make fun of each other. We have to always be there for each other. We don't judge each other. And we keep each others' secrets." He looked to Chance, then Wesley, then Milo. "We won't be ashamed around each other, and we can tell each other anything. No fear." He exhaled sharply. "Agreed?"

Milo smiled. "Agreed."

"Yeah," said Wesley. "Definitely."

Chance grinned and nodded. "Alright."

Jackson patted Chance's back and walked over to the sink. He began filling up the enema again.

Chance shucked off his yellow t-shirt, then pulled down his boxer shorts. "This is the first time anyone's ever seen me naked," he explained. He put one hand behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

Milo washed his own, purple enema, and filled it up for Chance.

Chance bit his lower lip as he lifted his leg, revealing his tiny, pink, virgin hole. He slowly inserted the tip of the enema, then squeeze. He sighed and opened his eyes wide as he filled up. "You're right," he said. "It's weird and warm."

The other boys laughed in agreement.

And, one-by-one, each of the four friends washed themselves out without shame, fear, judgment, or secrets. Only with support and friendship.

Once they were clean on the inside, the boys washed their hands, brushed their teeth, and retreated to the gang shower in the back of the bathroom. Thankfully, all four boys liked the shower at roughly the same temperature, so walking from shower head-to-shower head was not an issue.

"So, does it hurt to get fucked?" asked Wesley, as he squeezed shampoo into his open hand.

"Eh," said Milo as he nodded. "The first time, it definitely hurts. But the more you get fucked, the less it hurts." He reached behind himself and slipped a finger up his asshole. "I'm still really tight, so a couple of my men didn't believe me when I said I wasn't a virgin." He slipped a second finger in. "But I can take some pretty big cocks now. The really big ones — like Tank's — definitely hurt a little bit. But they feel good at the same time."

"How does it hurt and feel good?" asked Jackson. He reached behind himself and tried to slip a soapy finger up his own hole.

"It just does," said Milo. "It's like I feel full, and all this pressure. But, it's also like sending waves of tingles and pleasure through my whole body."

"Damn," said Chance. "I kinda want to try getting fucked now."

Wesley laughed. "Too bad you're not Caden. I think Tank has the hots for him."

"Yeah!" Jackson laughed. "Did you hear him say how cute Caden Vitale is?" He started rubbing lather down his legs. Jackson looked to Chance. "Caden Vitale. Chance Vanessa. You two do have the same initials. Maybe you'll get lucky."

"Nah," said Chance, blushing. "Milo can keep Tank. I don't want to infringe on his territory."

"I don't mind sharing," said Milo.

"Not like Tank doesn't have plenty of dick to go around," Wesley said.

"How do you get a dick up there?" asked Jackson. "I can't even get a finger inside myself.

"You have to push out when you do it," explained Milo. "Plus, I think it's easier when it's someone else pushing inside you."

Jackson shrugged and returned to lathering his shoulders. "Hey Wesley," he began. "Can you help me get my back?"

"No prob," replied Wesley. He approached Jackson and began working soap bubbles into the space between the other boy's shoulder blades.

"Thanks," Jackson said. "I'll do you next."

"Mm-hmm," Wesley nodded, as he worked his hands down to the small of Jackson's back, rubbing soap into the boy's tanned skin. He kept going lower and goosed Jackson's firm butt playfully. Wesley stuck a finger briefly between Jackson's cheeks and pushed up against the other boy's tight hole. Then he removed his hand and lightly slapped Jackson's ass.

Jackson laughed, turned around and splashed water onto Wesley's face. "Weirdo," he stuck his tongue out.

Wesley stuck his tongue back out at Jackson.

Jackson quickly returned Wesley's favor and washed his back next. When he was done, he too slapped Wesley's pert ass. Then he reached around and flicked the boy's little cocklette.

"Don't get me wrong," said Chance. "I'm glad you two aren't fighting. But I wasn't expecting you'd start feeling each other up." He giggled.

"Remember what I said before, Chance?" asked Jackson. He walked toward Chance. "No judgment." He reached down and playfully tugged Chance's dicklette once.

"And no secrets," Wesley walked up to Chance and started rubbing his nipples slowly.

"And no shame," continued Milo, sticking a finger between Chance's asscheeks, and pushing against the boy's little rosebud.

Chance giggled. "Okay, point made." He swatted Milo's hand out of his butt.

As the boy's showered, they not only washed themselves but one another.

Chance unabashedly tugged on Wesley's little cocklette while washing his crotch. He let his soft fingers rub along the underside of Milo's armpits. And he teasingly pinched as he cleaned Jackson's nipples.

Milo massaged Wesley's feet while rubbing lather into them. He kneaded Chance's ass cheeks while washing them, and gave them a friendly squeeze when he finished; "no homo." Then he slicked Jackson's hair into a mohawk with shampoo.

Wesley fearlessly stuck a soap-coated finger inside Milo's ass; "You are tight." He got on his hands and knees, with his face right next to Jackson's balls, as he scrubbed his tanned thighs. He stuck a finger into Chance's belly-button while washing his taut tummy.

Jackson was careful and gentle when he rolled body wash over Chance's marble-sized testicles. He played "This Little Piggy" with Wesley's tiny toes all covered in soap bubbles. And he examined the growing definition in Milo's abs as his fingers glided along their surface.

The shower was filled with laughter, not with moans of pleasure. It was clear that the boys' actions were motivated by friendship as opposed to sexual excitement. They were at ease, not aroused.

When they exited the shower, they assisted each other in drying off. Shamelessly, the boys rubbed towels over the skin of one another. And, once they were dry, Milo provided each boy with a few drops of his lavender oil.

By the time they returned to their cabin, not a single inch of any of the boys' bodies remained untouched.

Chapter 10
A Stiffy, A Stone And A Stabbing

After their shower, the boys returned to Nevia cabin. Jackson, Wesley, and Chance were careful to cover themselves with towels as they walked outside. Milo unabashedly traversed the short distance from the bathroom to the cabin naked. In time, the four boys began to get dressed.

Jackson was tying his shoes. Wesley was slipping on a tank top. Chance was pulling up his boxer briefs. Milo sat on his bed, still naked, looking through his suitcase.

Chance adjusted his still-hard dicklette as the waistband of his underwear snapped into place. "My boner won't go away." He chuckled.

"You should finger yourself," Milo suggested. He rose from his bed and walked toward Chance.

Chance raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"He means you should masturbate," said Wesley. He mimed jacking off in the air.

"Have you ever jacked off before?" asked Jackson to no one in particular. "Has anyone jacked off before?"

"No," said Chance shaking his head.

"I looked at porn that one time," began Wesley. "But I was too nervous to try to jack off too. Mister and Missus Smythe put the fear of God in me!"

"I don't blame you," said Jackson. "I think the Smythes would kill me if I ever played with myself!" He laughed.

"Yeah, I never jacked off either," said Milo.

"But you've had sex?!" shouted Wesley. "How have you not masturbated?"

"You can have sex without jacking off, Wes!" Milo scoffed. "And I never said I don't masturbate; I said I don't jack off."

"You finger yourself then?" Chance asked.

Milo nodded. "Playing with my little cocklette never really turned me on." He reached down and poked his own erection. "So, when I'm horny, and there's no guy around to fuck me, I finger myself." He looked to Chance. "Like you should do to get rid of your baby boner." He reached over and flicked Chance's stiffy.

Chance bit his lower lip and swayed back and forth.

"Close your eyes, pretend a guy is fucking you," said Milo. "Then move a finger in and out of your butthole, and concentrate on feeling good. Before you know it, you'll be shivering and moaning. Then your little cocklette won't be hard anymore."

"'Cocklette'?" said Wesley. "Why do you keep calling it a 'cocklette'? It makes it sound so tiny."

"It is tiny," said Milo. "I measured myself once: I'm not even three inches!"

"So?" said Jackson. "Are you, like, proud of having a little dick or something?"

"Yeah," said Milo as if it were obvious. "Having a little dicklette is a good thing!"

"How's it good?" asked Chance through a laugh.

"Do you think grown men who like little boys want us to be big?" Milo raised an eyebrow. "They don't! My foster dad, Mister Barker and Mister Murphy, and Tank always tell me how much they love how small I am." Milo used a fake deep voice to impersonate a grown man, "'Oh Milo, you're such a tiny, little slut!' 'I love how sexy your baby dicklette is!' 'It's so hot watching my big man cock slide into that tiny, baby ass!'" He started using his real voice again. "I love being little."

"Why would grown men want us to have little dicks?" asked Wesley as he rolled his eyes.

"It probably makes them feel even bigger," explained Jackson, "and more manly."

"Hmm…" Wesley shrugged. "I guess that makes sense."

Milo nodded. "Mister Barker told me a few months ago that I'm so small that I shouldn't be allowed to say I have a 'cock' or a 'dick.'" He pointed to his dicklette. "He said that comparing it to a man's cock is an insult. I should only be allowed to call it a 'dicklette,' a 'cocklette,' or something else that lets you know it's not a 'real dick.'"

Jackson gulped. "That's actually kind of hot!"

"So, you only call it a 'cocklette' or a 'dicklette' now?" asked Chance.

"Mm-hmm," Milo answered and smiled broadly. "The next day, I called it a 'dicklette' in front of my foster dad, and he went nuts! I don't think he's ever cum that hard!"

"That's super hot!" said Jackson.

Milo looked back to Chance. "So, are you going to finger yourself then?"

Chance scrunched up his face. "Maybe later."

Milo shrugged. "Whatevs." He walked over to his shower caddy and pulled out the red enema. Milo tossed the enema across the room to Chance. "Keep that. Use it before you finger yourself."

Chance caught the enema and smiled. "Okay!" He tucked the red, plastic bulb away in his backpack, and stored it under his bed.

Chance did his best to ignore his stiffy while he dressed and — after another five minutes or so — his little dicklette was soft again.

Jackson finished getting dressed first. He waited at the foot of his bed for his comrades to finish putting on their clothes. "Before we head back to the main campsite, I want to clean up the campfire from last night." He looked to the rest of the boys. "Okay…?"

"Ugh!" groaned Milo. "Do we have to?"

"Come on, slut," said Wesley as walked passed Milo, slapping his ass along the way. "It'll only take a minute."

Chance collected the stray plastic remnants from the bag of marshmallows. Jackson returned the two, iron fire pokers to their proper place beside Nevia Cabin.

Milo sat down on a log and looked out toward the lake. "Do you ever feel like exploring?" he said aloud. "Or adventuring?"

"Are you asking me?" asked Chance.

Milo shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

"I'm not sure," answered Chance. "Why'dyou ask?"

Milo pointed to a small island in the center of the lake that looked to be only a few hundred yards wide. "We should swim out there."

"Why?" asked Jackson.

"Why not?" Milo chuckled. "It looks like fun. After yesterday, with Acadie…" he trailed off. "Maybe we can't go back to Acadie, but there are other cool places we can investigate."

"That's a long swim," said Wesley through a sigh. "It's gotta be at least five hundred yards out into the lake."

"You chicken?" teased Milo.

"I just don't think it'll be fun to drown," Wesley retorted.

Milo huffed and stood up. "I'm still going to do it. Even if I have to go by myself." He returned to picking up the litter around the campfire.

After a few more minutes of cleaning, Jackson surveyed the site of last night's campfire. "It looks litter-free, boys," he declared. "Did we miss anything?"

"Um…guys." Wesley called to the other boys. "Am I going nuts, or is this weird?"

"Why not both?" Milo teased. He walked toward Wesley. "What's going on?"

Wesley pointed at the large stone he had pulled over to the campfire the night before, the one he had used as a chair. On the top of the rock was what looked like a pink rosebud growing from a green stem.

"Is — is that growing out of the rock?" asked Chance.

Jackson knelt down to the ground. He took off his glasses, squinted, and leaned in really close to the stone. "Yeah," he said. "I think so."

"The stem is literally inside the rock!?" Milo's eyes widened.

Wesley knelt down beside Jackson and looked carefully at the plant. "Its stem is inside that rock!" He wondered aloud. He gently poked the seedling. "How does a rosebud root itself inside limestone?"

"You were sitting on that stone all last night," said Milo. "I think the better question is: Do you have rose seeds in your ass?"

Wesley playfully stuck out his tongue at Milo and stood back up.

"Maybe it's like the baby chicks from yesterday," offered Chance.

"You think?" asked Wesley.

"Something living coming out of something not living," continued Chance. "Chicks coming out of scrambled eggs; flowers growing out of stones."

"Do you think it has something to do with Acadie?" asked Milo.

"I still haven't even processed all of that yet!" exclaimed Wesley.

Jackson nodded in agreement. "We went from a normal day to…" He stood up and held up one finger. "To seeing baby chicks being born from breakfast foods," he held up a second finger. "To the sun not setting right — "

" — To aurora borealis in the wrong latitude," Wesley interjected.

Jackson nodded. "To a weird magical library in the bathroom."

"To watching Milo and Tank having sex," Wesley finished.

Chance burst out laughing. "I have to say, this has been the weirdest couple days of my life!" He sighed. "Do you think things will go back to normal soon?"

Jackson shrugged. "I guess we'll find out."

The boys walked the fifteen minutes to the campground proper. They chatted, joked, and occasionally slapped one another's little butts as they walked.

Following yesterday's scavenger hunt, Jackson and Milo opted to attend the birdwatching class before lunch.

Chance and Wesley, on the other hand, decided to relax and practice carving wood.

The whittling station consisted of three picnic tables arranged in a circle. Each station was supplied with wooden blocks and a small collection of saws and knives. A counselor sat at all the tables.

Chance and Wesley sat opposite one another at the station farthest from where Tyler sat throwing a knife blade first into the dirt.

Wesley yawned, absently carving off the bark from a stick with a green pocket knife.

Chance scrunched up his face as he tried to work his way around a knot on his wooden block.

Joe — a tall, lanky man with a beard and a man-bun — was the camp counselor sitting at the head of Chance and Wesley's table. He was wearing safety goggles and heavy-duty gloves and was screwing together some sort of metal contraption.

"What're you making, Joe?" asked Wesley.

"Claws," he replied. Joe picked up another metal contraption off the table, this one looked complete. It was an iron ring that wrapped around the palm of his hand; screwed to the top of the ring were knives that protruded from just above Joe's knuckles. "It's for a Wolverine costume."

"Cool!" Wesley exclaimed.

"I'm going to file down the blades so I can wear them safely," Joe said. He put the completed 'claws' back onto the table.

"They're like brass knuckles, but deadlier," Wesley said. "I actually have a pair of brass knuckles — "

" — At home…right?" Joe said. "You didn't bring your brass knuckles to camp did you?"

"Of course not!" Wesley replied quickly. "I wouldn't bring them here." He looked to Chance, bit his lower lip, and widened his eyes. Then he stuck out his tongue playfully.

"Good," said Joe, nicely. "Because that would be against camp rules." He returned to screwing together his second set of 'claws.'

Tyler threw his knife into the ground again. This time, instead of sticking into the dirt, the blade struck something hard and cracked in half. "Fuck," Tyler said. He stood up and began to walk around to other tables.

Tyler first walked by Chance, shoving him as he approached. "Whatcha carving, loser?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Chance. He looked away from Tyler as he spoke.

"Let's see," said Tyler leaning in a little too close to Chance. "Its big on this end, and thinner in the middle," he poked Chance's carving. "It looks like you're trying to carve a dick."

"N-no!" Chance replied, his voice quivering.

"It's totally a dick!" Tyler shouted. "Are you a faggot like Rhodes? Maybe we should shove this up your ass and find out."

"Shut the fuck up, Tyler!" shouted Wesley. He stood up holding out his stick like a sword.

"You wanna go, Rhodes?" asked Tyler. "'Cause I'll take you on."

"You even try to hurt Chance, and you'll have to," replied Wesley through gritted teeth.

"Why? Is he your girlfriend?" Tyler laughed.

Wesley stepped closer and aimed his stick at Tyler's face.

Tyler growled and stepped up onto the picnic table. He leaned down and picked up two pruning saws. "You wanna fight, faggot!?"

Before Wesley could reply, Joe jumped up and grabbed Tyler by the collar. Joe pulled Tyler off the table. The pruning saws landed on the ground.

"Put me the fuck down!" Shouted Tyler.

"Let's go have a talk about the proper way to use tools," said Joe, rather calmly. His hand was still tight around Tyler's collar. He looked to Wesley and Chance, "You two okay?"

Chance nodded.

"We're cool, Joe," said Wesley.

Joe nodded, grabbed his supplies and his 'claws,' and threw everything into a canvas bag. Still gripping Tyler's collar, he pulled the boy along with him toward an administrative cabin.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Tyler shouted as he was dragged along by the counselor.

"And then," Wesley said, brimming with excitement, "Joe just grabbed Tyler by the shirt and pulled him away." Wesley's smile broadened as he looked around the lunch table to Milo, Chance, and Jackson.

"Asshole deserved it," said Jackson.

"Did you just say a bad word?" Milo joked.

"I'm not going to lie," Wesley whispered. "Just thinking about Tyler getting what he deserves makes my little cocklette throb!"

Chance reached over, discreetly slipped his hand under Wesley's waistband, and squeezed lightly. "He's not lying; he's hard as a rock!" Chance gently pinched the head of Wesley's dicklette before removing his hand.

"Wait!" said Milo. "Did you just call it a 'little cocklette'?"

"Okay, I admit it…" Wesley sighed. "You were right: It does kinda sound better."

"Told ya so." Milo leaned back in his seat, putting his feet up on the table. He took a bite of a tuna fish sandwich, smiled, and swallowed. "Jackson and I saw some more magic in the birdwatching class." He looked to Jackson. "Tell 'em, Jacky."

"Magic? It's still going on?" Wesley sighed. "What did you see?"

"We didn't 'see' anything," Jackson clarified.

"Fuck yeah, we did," said Milo, taking his feet off the table. He glared at Jackson. "How many peacock feathers did you find when we were out hiking yesterday?"

"One," Jackson replied.

"And how many were in your bag when we went to the birdwatching class?" Milo continued.

Jackson sighed. "Four."

"Four!?" Chance almost shouted.

Jackson looked at Wesley. "And you were right, Wesley."

"Of course I was right!" Wesley tapped his chest with his fist. "What was I right about this time?"

Jackson reached over and pulled a plastic bag filled with feathers off the ground. He placed it on the table. "You said peacocks don't live around here. You were right." He took the four peacock feathers out of the bag. "The instructor said he thinks these are from the Java Peacock," Jackson explained. He held up one feather and examined it. It was long, with flowing wisps along its sides, and mostly blue in color, with a teal and gray 'eyespot' on its end. "Except," Jackson continued, "He said that the eyespot on most peacock feathers has gold, black, and white in them instead of just gray." Jackson handed the feather to Wesley.

"Maybe it's not from a Java Peacock, then," suggested Chance.

"I think it's from an Acadie Peacock," said Milo.

"Funny!" said Wesley, as he studied the quill in his hands.

Jackson handed out the rest of the feathers: one to each of the other boys.

"I'm being serious," said Milo as he took a feather from Jackson. "Like we were saying this morning: weird stuff is still going on. It didn't stop with the chicks, going to Acadie, or a rose blooming out of a stone. We have to face it, boys: Magic is real."

"And it's happening to us," Jackson added. "No one else found any weird feathers during the scavenger hunt."

"Maybe some magic hitched a ride when we came back from Acadie," Wesley suggested, not looking up from the feather. "Wait!" He exclaimed. "What am I saying!? That's not how science and logic work."

"According to science and logic, the bathroom door shouldn't lead to a magical library." Jackson clicked his tongue.

"Should we, y'know, tell someone about that?" asked Chance. "Maybe, I dunno, Tank or someone?"

"Why?" asked Wesley.

"Yeah," continued Jackson. "What can he really do about it?"

"Except throw us in the loony bin," Wesley continued. "Let's be honest: We sound insane!"

"He wouldn't lock us up!" Milo insisted. He reached around and playfully slapped his own ass. "He wouldn't risk losing this little piece of heaven."

Chance, Wesley, and Jackson all giggled.

Suddenly, Caden Vitale ran up to the table. "Did you guys hear what happened?" He was a little out of breath.

"What d'you mean?" asked Jackson.

"With Tyler and Joe?"

"Yeah," Chance said. "Wesley and I were there."

Wesley grinned and nodded.

"I hope Joe whooped his ass!" said Chance.

"No!" said Caden. "Look out the window." Caden motioned to the front wall of the cafeteria and ran toward a window.

First Jackson, got down from the table. Then Wesley, Milo, and finally Chance followed suit. They followed Caden to the window.

Outside was an EMT van and three cars with the words "Sheriff" blazoned on their side.

"What the heck?" Jackson's jaw dropped.

Soon all the boys in the cafeteria had crowded around one of the four windows on the wall.

"Tyler stabbed Joe!" exclaimed Caden.

Chance brought a hand to mouth.

"Bobby said that Tyler killed Joe." Caden continued.

"No!" Wesley insisted. "Bobby's just making shit up." He gulped. "Tyler's crazy, but — but Joe's a grown-up. Tyler couldn't kill him."

"He definitely stabbed him though," Caden said.

"How do you know for sure?" asked Jackson.

"I saw them pull Joe out on a stretcher," Caden explained.

"Look!" Milo said, pointing outside.

A deputy was leading Tyler out of the administrative cabin and toward one of the cars. Tyler was clearly handcuffed. The deputy pushed Tyler's head down as the boy was thrust into the back seat of the vehicle.

Jackson removed his glasses and squinted his eyes. He focused on the open car door "Who's that in the car next to Tyler?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" asked Caden.

"In the backseat of the cop car," Jackson said. "The guy in the hat. He looks familiar."

"I don't see anyone," said Caden.

"Shit," said Milo quietly.

Chance's eyes widened. He reached over and grabbed Wesley's shoulders. "Do you see who I see?"

Wesley just nodded.

"I don't see anything," Caden repeated.

Jackson grabbed Milo and pulled him away from the window. He motioned for Chance and Wesley to follow him. The four boys walked back to their table and out of earshot of everyone else.

"You all saw him too, right?" Jackson whispered. "In the back of the cop car, sitting next to Tyler." Jackson looked from boy to boy. "Caden can't see him, but you guys can, right? Right?"

Milo nodded.

"The fedora? That weird smoky-colored skin?" Chance continued.

"Belial," said Jackson. "The demon that was after Kato."

Wesley gulped. "Maybe we brought more than just magic out of Acadie."

Chapter 11
Planning, Paddling, And Pounding

"I'm not saying we should've gone to a counselor," said Jackson. "I'm just saying we should've done something about it."

The four boys were the last people left in the cafeteria. While the rest of the campers had gone out to play, Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo remained to discuss the situation before them.

"What could we have done about it?" asked Wesley. "Run at the police car and try to beat up a demon that no one else can see?"

Jackson sighed. "I don't know."

"What was he doing here?" asked Chance.

"Huh?" Milo cocked his head to the side

"When we were in Acadie, he was looking for Kato — for half-breeds, right?" Chance said. "Are there half-breeds, um, wherever we are?"

"The Mortal World," said Wesley.

"Exactly: The Mortal World," Chance said. "Is Belial still trying to open up the doorways to the Elemental Regions, or whatever it was he wanted to do?"

"I don't think much has changed in a day," Milo scoffed.

"It might've," said Wesley.

Jackson raised an eyebrow.

"Think about it," Wesley continued. "Time stopped while we were in Acadie, right? Time doesn't work the same way here as it does there." He looked to Jackson. "It's been about sixteen hours here, but who knows how long it's been in Acadie."

"You have a good point," said Jackson. He paused and his eyes widened. "What if he succeeded and that's why he's here?"

"Succeeded?" Milo asked, nervously.

"What if he used the half-breeds to unlocked the Elemental Regions? What if President Power invaded and took over all of Acadie?" Jackson gulped. "And what if he's coming here now?"

"I hope that's not what happened," replied Chance.

"No," Wesley asserted. "If that happened, we'd be seeing more than Belial." He started breathing heavily.

"More?" said Milo. "You mean like roses growing out of stones and the sun not setting?"

"No," said Wesley. "I mean, more…invaders! More demons 'n' shit." He looked to Jackson. "You agree with me, right?"

Jackson didn't say anything.

"What about the Tempest?" said Milo. "Aren't they supposed to be able to bring the Elements back. Wouldn't that be able to stop Belial?"

"Well, Belial's here," said Chance. "So I don't think the Tempest did anything yet."

"If they even exist," said Wesley.

Jackson took a deep breath. "Okay. Here's the deal." He paused. "Right now, if we tell anyone about this, people will think we're all crazy. So that's not an option right now. Agreed?"

Wesley, Chance, and Milo nodded.

"But, right now, we can't really do anything about it. As far as I can tell, Belial left with Tyler. And we can't exactly run away from camp to follow him. We don't know where he's going." Jackson continued.

"Not to mention," interjected Chance. "Even if we could find him, do you really think we could take on a demon?"

Jackson shrugged. "No. But I'd try in a heartbeat."

Wesley nodded in agreement. "Especially if it meant saving the world."

"If we can't find Belial, and we don't see any other demon or another bad thing, there's nothing that we can really do," Jackson said. "Telling someone will only make things worse."

"So we do nothing?" asked Milo.

"For now," said Jackson. "But…" he took a deep breath. "If something else happens. If we see Belial again, or another demon, or anything dangerous, we have to do something. Even if it means getting sent to the loony bin." He looked around the table. "Are we agreed."

Wesley nodded.

Chance paused for a moment. "Yeah, I'm on board. Anything else dangerous and we do something. Even if it means getting killed by a demon."

"Sounds like a plan," Milo said. "Plus, it could lead to an adventure."

"So, what do we do now?" asked Chance.

"I guess, go on with our day like normal," Jackson answered. "Like nothing weird is going on at all."

About an hour later, the remaining counselors gathered all the campers in the cafeteria to explain the situation.

"I know a lot of you are wondering about what happened with Tyler and Joe," Tank explained in front of a room of 29 tweens. "And I know a lot of rumors are going around. So, we're going to set the record straight."

Tank paused and looked around the room. "Tyler was misbehaving. Joe was trying to talk to Tyler about why what he did was wrong." Tank took a deep breath. "And, yes, Tyler did hurt Joe really bad."

Caden's hand shot up among the crowd. "Is Joe going to be okay?"

"I haven't spoken to his doctor, but I'm sure he'll be fine," said Tank.

Milo leaned over and whispered to Chance, "Tank's lying."

"How do you know?" Chance whispered back.

"I know Tank. I know when he's lying." Milo answered.

Wesley raised his hand. "What's going to happen to Tyler?" he asked.

"His social worker will decide that," Tank answered. "Right now, social services is very involved in this whole situation." He turned to look to his co-counselors and briefly nodded. He looked back to the group. "In fact, social services has told us that, because of this incident, we're going to have to end camp early this year."

"What!?" one boy shouted from the back of the cafeteria.

"No!" echoed another boy.

Tank held his hands up to quiet the group. "Quiet!" He shouted. "Look. It's not my decision. I know you're all good kids, but when something this serious happens, the state has to take serious action." He paused and waited for the room to quiet. "Thank you. The rest of the counselors and I have discussed the situation. We've decided that all activities are canceled for the rest of the day."

A few mild cheers echoed from the room.

"If anyone needs to talk about what happened, or feels scared, you can come to me or any of the other counselors," Tank continued. "But, for the rest of the day, and until the bus comes tomorrow after lunch, I want all of you to go have fun."

The crowd remained quiet.

"Go swimming, go hiking," Tank suggested. "Be safe, go with a buddy, and let a counselor know where you'll be, obviously," he continued. "But have fun. No more scheduled activities." Tank sighed. "You're all dismissed."

Slowly, but surely, the boys filed out of the cabin. While some were eager to return to their foster homes, most seemed upset that their summer vacation was ending prematurely.

Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo exited the cafeteria as a group. They remained quiet.

Milo was the first to break the silence. "Wanna go swimming?" he asked solemnly.

"It's the last chance we'll get," said Wesley.

"Maybe we can go swim to that island," Milo suggested hopefully.

"Y'know what?" Jackson began. "Let's do it. Let's swim out to the island."

The boys decided to walk back to the Nevia Cabin and change into their swimsuits. Their trek down the path was mostly quiet.

Halfway back, Chance spoke up. "I'm happy I met you guys," he said.

Wesley grinned, leaned over and hugged Chance as they walked. Jackson followed suit. And shortly, all four boys had stopped walking and had engaged in a group hug.

The hug ended abruptly when Milo slapped Jackson's ass eliciting laughter from the group.

"We need to stay friends," said Jackson as he kicked a clod of dirt.

"You should join our Kung Fu class," said Wesley, looking to Chance. "That way we can all hang out at least once a week."

Chance nodded eagerly. "I think I will."

As the boys continued their walk, their moods improved. And, by the time they had arrived back at Nevia Cabin, all four were smiling again.

Once inside the cabin, the four boys quickly stripped naked and changed into their swimsuits. Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Milo ran toward the lake with towels over their shoulders. Within two minutes, the boys were splashing and laughing with one another.

Wesley easily resisted Chance and Jackson's efforts to dunk him…until Milo pulled Wesley's trunks down. Wesley allowed Chance to dunk him while he pulled his bathing suit back up.

Jackson, as it turned out, was an exceptionally swift swimmer, and found himself winning each of the boys' impromptu races. Likewise, he won each of their "who can hold their breath longer"-contests.

After a half hour — and their fourth game of chicken — the boys relaxed into comfortably wading and floating.

"I'm gonna go for it," said Milo, as he tossed back his soaking wet, red hair. "I'm gonna try to swim out to the island." He pointed to the small plot of land some five-hundreds yards away. "Who's with me?"

Jackson stopped floating and swam up beside Milo. "I'm with you all the way, buddy."

"Me too," Chance echoed as he joined Jackson and Milo.

Wesley slapped Milo's little boy ass. "Let's go, slut."

Just like that, all four boys began swimming toward the island.

"What do you think is on the island?" asked Chance in between paddles.

"Gold and jewels," Milo responded. He stuck out his tongue.

"Look at the sky," said Wesley. He stopped swimming and pointed upward.

Like the night before, a colorful display of light was swirling in the atmosphere.

"What do you think that's about?" asked Chance.

"Magic from Acadie," Jackson said.

"Do you think the magic is following us?" asked Wesley.

"Maybe we're following the magic," answered Jackson.

Milo smiled. "Maybe we're supposed to go back one day — Ow! Ah!" He stopped swimming and started flailing. "There's something on me! There's something on me. Get it off!"

Chance and Wesley each grabbed one of Milo's arms, holding him above water.

"What's got you?" asked Chance.

"It's on my leg," Milo screamed. "I don't know what it is!"

"Bring him back to the shore," Jackson commanded. He swam next to Chance and started helping lift Milo.

The boys swam as quickly as they could back to the sandy banks, Milo flailing and kicking his leg as if he were trying to dislodge something the whole way. "It's crawling up me!" He screamed. "It's going up my leg!"

Wesley and Chance dragged Milo up onto the sand. On first glance, there didn't appear to be anything on the boy's leg, yet Milo was still squirming and shouting.

"Get it off!" Milo writhed uncomfortably.

"Where is it?" asked Chance.

"Pull his swimsuit down," said Jackson as he knelt down beside Milo.

Wesley and Jackson grabbed either side of Milo's waistband and pulled his suit down in one tug, leaving the redheaded boy naked in the sand.

Attached to Milo's inner thigh was a starfish: red, purple, brown, and slithering.

Milo stopped groaning and stared at the small, slimy animal. "It's a sea star," he said, calmness working its way back into his voice.

"That's impossible," said Wesley.

Chance and Jackson stared up at Wesley but said nothing.

"Okay, fine. Clearly, it's possible," Wesley rolled his eyes. "But it has to be magic: starfish are saltwater animals." He pointed out to the lake. "That's freshwater."

Jackson reached out and slowly peeled the sea creature's tentacles off Milo's legs. "Does that hurt?"

"No," said Milo. "It just feels weird."

Wesley knelt down beside Jackson and held out his hand.

Jackson passed the sea star to Wesley. "I know this," he said. "It's — I think it's a royal starfish." He handed the wiggling creature back to Milo. "But it's colors are a little off. Normally they're more orange and less red."

Milo turned the five-pointed creature around in his hands. Its top was a bright purple, it's underside was a grayish-brown, and its edges were a vivid red. "Can it live out of water?" he asked.

Wesley shook his head. "Doubt it."

Milo stood up and walked naked to the coast. Like a frisbee, he tossed the creature out into the waves. "I'm not going to let it die."

Milo walked back to his friends and sat back down in the sand. He looked out at the island in the middle of the lake with wide eyes and a sigh. "Tomorrow," he said. "Tomorrow. Before we get back on the bus. I'm going to swim out there."

"We'll be right there with you," said Jackson.

Milo stood up and stretched. As he did, his little cocklette started rising and pointing out toward the lake.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Chance still sitting in the sand. He reached up and pressed down on Milo's tiny dicklette. He released his finger, and Milo's little stiffy sprung back up like a spring, slapping against his skin.

"'Bout how I need to take a shower," Milo answered. He started dusting the sand off his body. "I have a date with Tank tonight."

"Oooh, a date," Wesley teased.

"What're you going to do on your date?" Jackson asked giggling.

Milo cleared his throat. "He said something about fucking my faggot ass and throat." He spoke as if he were describing a business meeting. Then he shrugged. "I'm only really in it for his cum." He stuck out his tongue.

Chance burst out laughing.

Later that evening, as the clock approached midnight, the boys were relaxing in Nevia Cabin. They had pulled their cheap, plastic mattresses off their bed frames, and set them up in an array with all their pillows and blankets in the middle of the floor. Effectively, they had created one large, messy bed.

Wesley was laying on his back in the middle of the collection of mattresses, holding a copy of one of the Harry Potter books over his head, and reading aloud.

Chance was snuggled up next to Wesley, with his head on the other boy's shoulder, listening to him read.

Jackson was lying on his back perpendicular to Wesley, using Wesley's tummy as a pillow.

Milo was lying on his stomach with his head on Jackson's chest.

"Do you think Moaning Myrtle saw Harry's dick when he was in the prefect's bathroom?" asked Chance as he looked up at Wesley.

"It'd be a waste if she didn't at least take a look," Milo said, turning his head away from Jackson's dick and looking toward Chance.

"I'm more curious if Hagrid ever saw Harry naked," said Wesley. "Or if Harry ever saw Hagrid naked." He giggled.

"Do you have a crush on Hagrid?" Jackson joked.

"He's just so hairy," Wesley said. "And I bet he has a giant dick too."

"Are you a size queen?" Chance asked.

"The preferred term is 'size princess,'" Milo interjected.

Wesley started singing, "I like big cocks, and I cannot lie. You other brothers can deny…"

Jackson rolled over and thrust his hand under Wesley's waistband. "Yep — you like Hagrid."

Grabbing either side of Wesley's underwear, Chance and Jackson pulled the boy's boxer briefs down.

"Perverts!" Wesley teased amidst a fit of laughter. He kicked his underwear off the rest of the way. He sat up and tackled Jackson, reaching for Jackson's own pajama bottoms.

The four boys play-wrestled for a few minutes, tugging at one another's clothing. And soon, they were all naked. They returned to snuggling in a pile on top of the mattresses.

A few minutes after midnight, Milo playfully slapped Chance's naked ass and pushed himself to his feet. "I'll see you fags later," he stood on his toes and stretched. "I'mma go get my ass pounded."

"I gotta admit," said Jackson. "I'm jealous."

"Ditto," Chance echoed.

"I kinda wanna taste cum," said Wesley through a giggle.

"I'll tell you what," said Milo. "If he cums on my face in the morning, I won't clean it all off. You can lick it off my cheeks before I take a shower." He winked.

"I'm holding you to that!" Wesley said.

"Me too!" said Jackson.

"Save some cum for me," Chance joked. "Haha! 'Some cum.'"

Milo grabbed a pair of short pajama bottoms off the floor; he carried them in his hand as he walked naked, out of the cabin and into the night air.

Naked as a jaybird, Milo jumped onto Tank's bed and kept jumping like it was a trampoline. "Whatcha gonna do to me tonight, Daddy?" He asked as the big, tattooed camp counselor approached him.

"What do you think, whore?" Tank asked. He grabbed Milo's lithe and small body in between one of Milo's jumps. Tank pulled the boy in close, hugging him at first, then planting a passionate kiss on the boy's lips.

Milo instinctively opened his mouth amid the kiss and allowed Tank's thick, man tongue work its way inside. He wrapped his tiny arms around the man's neck and turned his head to the side. Milo let his own, little tongue slide between Tank's lips. A quick, high-pitched moan, escaped Milo as he passionately made out with Tank.

The two lovers disconnected their lips, a thin strand of saliva connecting their mouths.

"Wow." Milo's eyelids fluttered as he worked to catch his breath.

"You liked that kiss, huh, slut?" Tank growled. He lifted Milo, threw the tiny lad onto the bed, jumped on to the mattress after him, and pinned the boy. "You want to kiss more?" Tank leaned down and planted a few pecks on Milo's bare neck. "Or do you want to use that faggot tongue on something else?"

"I wanna use my faggot tongue on something else," Milo echoed with glee.

"What do you want to use it on?"

"You — you're big, hairy, man cock." Milo crooned. "Can I see your big cock, Daddy?"

Tank sat up and peeled off his tank top, revealing his hairy, and muscular chest, dripping with sweat. Then he leaned back further, sitting on his ankles with his leg's spread. "If you want to see it, take it out, whore."

Milo jumped up onto his knees and leaned forward. He began planting a series of kisses on the front of Tank's jeans, paying particular attention to the man's crotch. "I want your cock, Daddy." He began licking the zipper of Tank's fly.

Milo looked up to Tank with wide, brown eyes, and reached with his tiny hands towards the man's growing bulge. Slowly he unbuttoned the top of Tank's jeans and then began sliding down the zipper. Tank's loose-fitting boxers, stained yellow with sweat came into view.

Milo started tugging on the waistbands of Tank's jeans and underwear, bringing them both down lower-and-lower. He leaned back and pulled Tank's pants off completely. He threw them across the room, letting them land in a dense pile on the floor.

He grabbed the thin fabric of Tank's boxers and pulled them off the man's ankles. He lifted the underwear to his mouth and slipped it over his head. Milo positioned the fabric so that the crotch and seat of Tank's boxers were situated over Milo's nose. He inhaled loudly and moaned.

Tank chuckled. "You like that smell, little faggot." He moved his leg and flicked Milo's little dicklette with his big toe as he spoke.

"It's manly," Milo replied, his voice muffled by the cloth covering his mouth. He flicked his tongue out, leaving a wet spot on the front of the boxers.

"Take that shit off your head and get some sweat from the source," Tank ordered.

"With pleasure." Milo pulled the boxers off his head and leaned forward. He grasped the thick cock in both hands, lifting it upwards and letting his tiny fingers glide over its smooth surface. Milo leaned forward and planted a kiss on the shaft of the 9 ½-inch [24cm] monster as it achieved its full mast.

Milo let his tongue slide out from between his lips. He opened his mouth and began lapping the surface of the phallus in front of him. He ducked his head down so that his nose fell just under Tank's balls. Milo dug his tongue under the man's hairy scrotum and started bringing his face back upwards. Milo licked all the way back up to the head of Tank's uncut cock.

Tank reached down and placed his hand on the back of Milo's head. "You're such a good slut," he practically whispered, so overcome with sensation. "Keep at it."

"Mm-hmm." Milo opened his mouth wide and began working the massive cock head between his soft lips. It took some work, but soon, the little boy's lips were obscenely stretched wide around the manly appendage.

"Tilt your head back," Tank ordered as he balled up some of Milo's red hair between his fingers. He started pushing Milo's face into his crotch. "Breath through your nose…that's right, you know the drill, little boy."

Milo's face blushed as the giant member worked its way down his throat. He coughed and sputtered for a moment, but kept inching forward, crawling toward his man's body.

A few droplets of saliva pooled atop Tank's balls as his cock bottomed out inside the boy's throat. "Such a good whore," the man groaned.

Tank tightened his hand into a fist and pulled back. Then, without warning and at full force, Tank began roughly fucking the little boy's throat. From zero to sixty, Tank did not hold back. "I'm gonna fuck your little body so hard, you're going to be useless for the rest of the summer!" He slammed his crotch repeatedly into Milo's face, a bush of pubic hair striking the boy's nose over and over.

Milo smiled as much as he could with a full mouth as his little body was used like a blow-up doll.

Tank pulled the full length of the cock out of Milo's throat and wagged it in front of the boy's face.

Milo reached forward and grabbed the spit-covered dick. He rubbed the cock on his face like he was snuggling a teddy bear.

"Kiss it, faggot." Tank ordered.

Milo did just that, planting a big kiss on the giant head of the member.

"Now open up." Tank thrust his cock forward again, pushing the entire length inside the boy. "Take it! Fucking take it!" He shouted as he returned to humping the tiny, blushing face. "Be the little slut you know you are."

Milo sputtered, and saliva poured from his mouth as the invader worked its way in and out. He moaned the whole while.

Tank kept up his oral assault on the young boy for a good five minutes, occasionally changing position. Finally, he pulled the cock out from between the boy's lips. "Roll over!" He barked.

Milo quickly complied and rolled onto his tummy, his little ass up in the air. "Fuck me, Daddy," he said without thinking.

Tank put his big hand on the back of Milo's head and pushed it down into the mattress. He aimed the head of his throbbing log at the entrance to Milo's body and began easing himself forward.

Milo's tight ass began to open up slowly. Little by little the boy's body swallowed the head of Tank's monster dick.

"Ready?" Tank asked as he began pushing harder.

"Mm-hmm," Milo moaned, his face still pressed firmly against the mattress.

Tank grabbed Milo about his waist and leaned backward. He pulled Milo back with him, pushing his cock further inside as he relaxed into a sitting position.

Milo found himself with all 9 ½ inches [24] inside his guts. He settled comfortably into a "reverse cowgirl" position as Tank readjusted his legs.

Tank laid flat on his back, with his hands firmly grasping Milo's hips, as the boy started bouncing on the thick cock inside his little hole.

"Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me, Daddy." Milo repeated like a mantra.

"I'm going to breed your worthless baby hole you fucking, little, faggot slut!" the man shouted. Tank leaned upward wrapped his arms around Milo's chest and nuzzled his nose into Milo's neck. He nibbled on the boy's earlobe for a moment then whispered. "I'm going to miss fucking this baby ass every night." He kissed Milo's cheek.

And, just like that Milo started shouting. "Ah!" He screamed, bouncing faster-and-faster on the cock that was deep within his bowels. "I'm cumming!" he moaned.

Milo's body tensed up. He threw his head back and instinctively started planting little kisses on Tank's neck as his body uncontrollably writhed. His toes curled, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. Milo's sphincter tightened around the cock within him. "Don't stop!" He moaned as his muscled weakened and relaxed.

Milo slumped back into Tank's arms, spent, as the man kept pounding away.

"Don't stop bouncing now, faggot," Tank commanded. "I'm not far behind you."

Without missing a beat, Milo reached down, gripped the bed sheets, and used what strength he had left to lift himself back up and start humping his little ass against Tank's cock once again.

Tank moved his monster dick in and out of the little boy's intestines like a sleeve. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Then he whipped his cock out. "Here it comes, baby boy."

Milo quickly turned around and moved his face toward the man's cock, which was now throbbing even more powerfully. Milo opened up just as Tank's monster started spewing rope after rope of thick, white slime.

Milo moved his head around trying to get as much of the semen into his mouth as possible. In the end, though, most of the cum landed over the boy's rosy cheeks. A strand of cum fell across the bridge of his nose, and another stuck to the boy's hair. Drops oozed their way across Milo's cheeks and down his neck.

Once the last bit of jism had dribbled out of the phallus, Tank leaned back, his head at the foot of the bed.

Milo sat up for a moment, spooning the thick cum off his skin and into his mouth. Once his face was clean, he leaned forward and cuddled up against his man. He grabbed Tank's arm, lifted it above the man's head and wrapped it around his own body.

Tank squeezed Milo's little ass.

Milo slowly drifted off to sleep as he absently kissed and licked Tank's nipple.

It was 3:00 AM when Milo opened his eyes. He groaned and stretched. He let his bare feet touch the floor and stepped off the bed.

"Where you goin', slut?" Tank asked straining to open his own eyes.

"I gotta take a piss," Milo said.

"Hurry back," Tank replied through a yawn. He reached over, picked up Milo's pajama bottoms off the floor, and tossed them across the room.

"I don't think anyone will see me streak to the bathroom at this time of night," Milo said catching the shorts.

"If you're wrong, it's my ass in jail!"

"Yes, sir!" Milo saluted Tank then winked. "I'll be back in a minute." The boy walked backward toward the cabin door, smiling at his man lying in the bed. He turned the doorknob first, before turning around. Milo was halfway through the threshold when it became apparent that it was someplace else and not Camp Ozland on the other side.

"What the — !?" Milo was able to squeak out just before the door slammed behind him and disappeared.

Milo looked around to see a collection of dying trees, withered shrubs, and brown grass. The earth was cold on the bare skin of his feet. He looked up to see a sky filled with rainbows and almost smiled.

Then a growl echoed from a distance. The distinctive crunch of something walking on dried leaves crackled its way closer to the boy.

Milo gulped and ran, his naked toes gliding through dying grass.

Chapter 12
Into Thin Air

Chance woke up in a huddle of naked flesh and a mess of mattresses, blankets, and pillows. He pushed himself into a standing position, walked off the cushions — careful not to step on the other boys — stretched, and yawned. Chance cocked his head to the side as he stared out the window above his now empty bed frame.

Jackson rolled out of bed a minute or so later. He approached Chance, put his arm around him and leaned close into the other boy. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," Chance echoed. He turned his head and quickly planted an innocent kiss on Jackson's cheek. Abruptly, Chance pulled back with his eyebrows raised. "Sorry — it just seemed…" He gulped. "I wasn't think — "

" — We kiss now?" Wesley asked as he too rolled out of bed. "I know we're pretty touchy-feely, but we're not boyfriends." He looked at Chance and rubbed his eyes. "Do we kiss now?"

Chance shrugged. "I'm not actually sure."

Jackson rolled his eyes, leaned forward, and kissed Chance chastely on the lips like it was no big deal. "I think the four of us are a little beyond kissing."

Chance grinned.

"Speaking of the 'four of us,' where's Milo?" Wesley asked.

"I guess he must still be over in Tank's cabin," answered Jackson as he walked over to Wesley. He took Wesley's hand and helped pull him up to standing.

Jackson and Wesley leaned forward and kissed one another on the lips.

"Shouldn't he be back by now?" Wesley asked through a yawn. He walked over to Chance and kissed him on the lips briefly. "Whatcha lookin' at, Chancey?" he asked, gently goosing the boy's tiny, bare butt.

"The cocoon," Chance answered pointing to the window above his now mattress less bed frame. The chrysalis that had formed the day before had split open; it looked like a crusted piece of taupe tissue paper crumpled up and stuck to the window. "It looks like it hatched."

"Yeah?" said Jackson walking back toward Chance and Wesley. "How long does it take for a butterfly to break out of its cocoon?"

"A week," said Wesley. "Maybe ten days."

"Nuh-uh," Chance shook his head. "A caterpillar built that cocoon yesterday."

"That's imposs — " Wesley cut himself off. He sighed loudly. "How many weird animals are we going to be dealing with?"

Jackson laughed. "I'm going to put my peejays back on."

"Why?" asked Chance. "Shy all of a sudden?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "What if Tank comes in to wake us up before Milo gets back?" He began sifting through the piles of pajamas, pillows, blankets, and mattresses on the floor.

"Good point," said Chance.

"Hey, boys…" Jackson began, as he pulled his pajama bottoms out of the pile of blankets. ". . . What happened to…?" He paused and began looking around the room. Jackson pointed to each bed, one by.one while mumbling to himself. "We're missing a mattress."

"What do you mean?" asked Wesley. He walked over to the pile of pillows and mattresses on the floor and began digging through them.

Jackson pulled up his pajamas. "There should be four mattresses on the floor. There are only three," he explained.

Chance walked over to the pile and began looking through it as well. "I have a better question." He stood back up, lifting his pajamas with him as he did so. "Where's Milo's blanket and pillow?"

"And clothes?" Wesley interjected.

"He wasn't wearing any," said Jackson.

"He wasn't wearing any when he left," corrected Wesley. "He left them here."

Chance quickly pulled on his pajamas and ran over to Milo's bed frame. He began looking around the floor and nightstand. "It's all gone!" He announced. "His bag, his flashlight…it's all gone."

"What time is it!?" Wesley shouted. "Did they leave without us? Did we miss the bus?"

Jackson ran to his nightstand and grabbed his watch. "It's seven-twelve AM," Jackson said. "The bus wasn't supposed to arrive before noon."

"Besides," began Chance. "Milo would've never left without us." His voice was sure and confident.

"All his stuff is gone, though," said Wesley. He pulled on his pajamas and began running around the cabin looking for some evidence of something. "Could it have been Belial?"

"Don't say that!" Jackson shouted. "It couldn't have been."

"Why not?" Wesley yelled. "With all the other crazy stuff going on."

"Because," Jackson asserted. "B-because," he gulped and paused. "Why would Belial steal all of Milo's stuff?"

"Not all of his stuff…" Chance interjected. He lifted a small red bulb from his bag. "He left his enema."

Wesley shook his head. "No…" he gulped. "Milo gave that enema to you, remember?" Wesley's voice started to quiver. "That's not Milo's anymore. But everything else of his is gone."

Just then, the cabin door opened.

"Rise and shine," Tank announced as he walked into the cabin.

Chance quickly dropped the enema and hid it back in his bag.

Jackson turned to the counselor and, abruptly began speaking. "Tank, do you know where Milo is?"

"Who?" Tank replied.

"Milo…?" Chance interjected. "Milo Hester-Morgan."

Tank furrowed his brow and shrugged.

"Redheaded boy, about my height." Wesley held a hand up to the top of his head to indicate how tall Milo was.

"Ha. ha." Tank groaned. "Very funny." Tank shook his head slowly. "The name doesn't ring a bell." He clicked his tongue. "You boys better get showered and dressed if you want breakfast. You only have so much time before the bus gets here." He turned back toward the door. "So get a move on." He walked outside and shut the door behind him.

"The island!" Jackson shouted once the door closed.

"The island?" said Wesley. "Oh! The island?" He looked to Chance. "Milo probably swam out to the island!"

"Then why would his clothes disappear?" asked Chance.

Jackson ran outside after Tank, leaving the cabin door wide open. Wesley and Chance followed close behind.

"Tank!" Jackson shouted as he approached the counselor.

"What's up, bud?" Tank asked.

"What's the best way to swim out to that island?" Jackson pointed toward the lake only a hundred or so yards from Nevia Cabin.

"What island?" Tank asked looking out to the lake. Then he groaned again. "Okay, enough with the jokes already. Go shower." Tank walked toward the trail that led back to the campground proper.

Chance ran up to Jackson. "Do you think it's just us?" He gulped. "Do you think it's just us that remember him — just us that can see the island?"

"Something magical is definitely going on," said Wesley.

"I still think he swam out to the island," said Jackson. "He swam out there, something magical happened, and — " Jackson gulped. " — And then everything that he owned disappeared."

"Why can't Tank see the island?" Chance asked, his voice quivering. He held his head in his hands and started wandering as he spoke.

Jackson ran up to Chance and started rubbing the boy's back. "It'll be okay. We'll figure this out," he said. Jackson sighed. "Let's go sit down."

The boys walked a dozen feet to the remnants of the campfire they had constructed the night before last. They just breathed without saying much for a good couple of minutes.

Chance broke the silence. His voice still shaking, he pointed to the large stone. "The flower is still growing out of the rock." The rosebud that had rooted in the stone now had a stem that was close to six inches long, and its pink petals were starting to spread.

Wesley nodded. "It has to be magic. This all has to be magic."

"I don't know whether to be happy or scared that you're the one bringing that up," said Jackson.

With red eyes and an unsteady voice, Chance interjected. "Why can't Tank see the island?"

"Magic," Wesley repeated. "The same reason only we could see Belial. Either there's magic from Acadie that stayed with us, or being in Acadie lets us see magic shit or something like that." He reached over and grabbed Chance's hand. He squeezed it lightly.

Chance was breathing more heavily. "W — what d–do we do?"

"We go bring him back," answered Jackson.

"Swim out to the island?" Wesley said.

"What else can we do?" Jackson asked. "We almost swam out the other day. We might've made it if it wasn't for the starfish."

Chance took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "I know where to get a boat."

Jackson, Wesley, and Chance skipped showering, got dressed out of their pajamas, and hiked as fast as they could down to the main campgrounds.

The three boys hid behind one of the administrative cabins until they were sure all the campers and counselors were in the cafeteria eating breakfast.

Chance led Jackson and Wesley to a small shed between two of the counselor cabins.

"There's a number lock on the door," announced Wesley.

"I know," said Chance as he moved to the keypad. He closed his eyes and hovered his fingers above the pad. "I'm trying to remember what Tank typed in the other day." He bit his lower lip.

Before Chance could type in the number, Wesley reached for and twisted the doorknob. "It's already unlocked." He pushed the door open.

The three boys ran inside the shed. A canoe was laying on the ground among a slew of other supplies.

"Wesley, can you get the back of the canoe?" asked Jackson. "I'll get the front." He turned to Chance. "Can you grab three oars."

Without a word, Wesley jumped over a few boxes and found his way behind the canoe.

"Yī…èr…sān!" As if they were back in Kung Fu class, Wesley counted off in Chinese. And, on "sān" he and Jackson both lifted their respective ends of the canoe into the air.

Chance quickly picked up three oars. Then, on the floor, he saw the left-handed Penobscot bow he had used the day before. He gulped, reached down, and lifted the bow, and a quiver full of arrows.

"What are you grabbing?" asked Jackson as he and Wesley started walking out to the shed door.

"Who knows what we'll find on the island," Chance explained. He lifted the bow and arrows to show Jackson and Wesley. "I want to be prepared if we run into Belial or someone like that."

"Good thinking," said Jackson.

As quietly as they could, the boys worked their way out of the shed, down the hiking path, and back to Nevia cabin.

About fifteen minutes later, Jackson and Wesley laid the canoe down on the dirt near the edge of the lake. Chance laid the oars next to the boat and buckled the quiver onto his back.

"Are we ready?" said Jackson.

Wesley's eyes suddenly widened. "Wait! I have an idea!" He held up a finger. "I have brass knuckles in my backpack." He looked to Chance. "You were right: we should be prepared."

"Good idea!" said Jackson. "I'll see if I can get a weapon too. Chance, can you watch the boat?"

Chance nodded in the affirmative.

While Wesley ran into Nevia cabin, Jackson ran next to it.

Chance sat down on the edge of the canoe while he waited. In the distance, he saw a blur flutter toward him. Chance rubbed his eyes as a butterfly flapped its way closer to him.

The butterfly, an orange, yellow, and black thing, was exceptionally large. Its wingspan was only slightly smaller than the width of Chance's face. It landed calmly on Chance's shoulder.

"Cool," Wesley said as he approached. "That's a fuckin' gigantic bug. Do you think that was the one who built a cocoon outside your window?"

Chance just nodded.

The butterfly flew off Chance's shoulder and into the air.

Wesley followed the fluttering with his eyes. Then he began following it, eventually stopping as he approached the campfire. "Chance, come look at this," he called.

Chance stood up and walked toward Wesley.

The rose, which had just begun to spread its petals less than an hour prior, had now fully bloomed. Its pink head was full, thick, pink, and about the size of a softball. White thorns lined the sides of its now foot-long, bright green stem.

"Do you think it's a magic rose?" asked Chance.

"Uh…" Wesley trailed off. "I can't think of a funny Beauty and the Beast reference right now."

Chance giggled. "Where's Jackson."

"Over here," Jackson called quietly.

Wesley and Chance turned around.

Jackson was kneeling in the dirt outside the cabin: in front of him was a colorful bird. "So you're the one who's been dropping all those feathers," said Jackson as he reached out to try to pet the small creature.

Chance and Wesley approached cautiously.

The peacock nuzzled its face into Jackson's hands for a moment. It lifted its tail, unfolding an array of beautiful teal, blue, and grey feathers that stood tall. Despite the bird's small size, its feathers reached close to eight feet into the air. The bird cooed for a moment, then spread its wings.

Jackson backed up slightly, and the peacock took flight.

"Woah," said Wesley. "You with the big bird, Chance with the big bug. Kinda cool."

"Big bug?" asked Jackson.

"A butterfly landed on my shoulder," Chance explained.

"A fucking huge butterfly!" Wesley announced. "And the rose on the rock is the size of a grapefruit." He chuckled. "You have to admit, magic is kind of cool."

"Did you get a weapon?" asked Chance.

Jackson nodded and picked up two iron fire pokers off the ground. "I used these when we had the campfire the other night."

"Probably more effective than the wooden swords we use in class," Wesley noted.

"Just what I was thinking." Jackson nodded. "Did you get your brass knuckles?"

Wesley pulled two, shining, white knuckledusters out of his pocket. He showed them off for a second before hiding them away.

"Are we ready to go then?" asked Jackson.

"As ready as I'll ever be," answered Chance.

"Let's do this," Wesley said. "Let's bring back Milo."

Chapter 13
Acaderian

Milo ran!

He kept running. For a brief moment, the creature jumped out from behind a large bush before darting behind some decaying vines during the chase. It appeared in a fleeting, multicolored blur.

Milo still kept running as his stamina waned and he fought to catch his breath. Ten minutes had gone by since the last time the creature had growled. Nonetheless, Milo still ran naked through the brush.

A total of twenty minutes had gone by. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot — or, underpaw, as the case may have been — still followed close behind Milo. In the distance was what looked like some sort of wooden archway a little larger than a doorframe. A roar echoed from behind Milo.

Milo turned just as a tiger leaped from behind the brown branches of a willow tree. Its fur was glistening with a rainbow of colors broken by black and white stripes.

In a moment of quick thinking, Milo dodged the tiger, rolled on the ground, and picked up the fallen tree branch. Milo leaped back into a standing position while swinging the stick. He struck the tiger's face with full force. The beast jumped backward, and, without missing a beat, Milo ran through the wooden archway.

He peered back over his shoulder. The tiger ran after him but — for some reason — stopped as it reached the archway. It was as if some sort of invisible force field blocked the creature from going any farther.

Milo looked around. He wasn't in the same place anymore. Gone were the dead leaves and decaying bushes. Milo was standing on the side of a brick road. The mortar between the bricks appeared to be bronze; it glimmered in the sunlight. In the distance, there was a river. The smell of the ocean filled the air.

The boy sat down on the ground, laying the stick, he had used to hit the tiger, on the road beside him. He just breathed for five minutes, holding his hand over his chest. Once he had finally stopped breathing so heavily, he laughed and pushed himself to his feet.

In his right hand, Milo was still holding his pajama bottoms. It was a miracle he hadn't dropped them while running from the tiger. He slipped them on, picked up the tree branch and — using the branch as a walking stick — began walking down the road and toward the river.

"Hey!" Milo shouted. He ran from the river banks back toward the brick road. Walking down the middle of the road were two boys walking hand-in-hand. "Hey!" Milo repeated.

The boys turned and stopped walking as Milo approached them.

"Hey," Milo said again, as he caught up. "Hi!"

"Hi," said the first boy. He had dark hair styled into a short mohawk, rich brown eyes, and a deep tan. He was wearing boots, long pants, and a vest that appeared to be two-sizes too-small over a white t-shirt.

"Hey," said the second boy. He had medium-length copper-colored hair; his skin was not as tanned as the other boy. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt like a tunic and tucked into a belt around his waist. He wore leather wrist guards and shorts with a loincloth over the top. Under his shorts was a pair of horselike legs. "Do — um, do we know you?"

Milo shook his head then extended his hand. "I'm Milo. Milo Hester-Morgan." He bit his lower lip. "I — I'm a little lost."

The boy with the horselike legs shook Milo's hand, "I'm Colt."

The boy with the mohawk reached out and shook Milo's hand next. "Axl. Axl Amani. Nice to meet you, Milo."

"Where are you headed, Milo?" asked Colt.

"Uh — back to Camp Ozland, I guess," Milo answered.

"Where?" asked Axl.

"Camp Ozland?" Milo repeated. "It's in Louisiana."

Colt and Axl looked to one another, then back to Milo. They both shook their heads.

"Louisiana? In the United States?" Milo continued.

Axl shrugged. "Sorry — "

" — On Earth?" Milo offered.

"Earth?" echoed Colt. "Like Khandava?"

Milo furrowed his brow. "Khanda — wha?" He shook his head. "The um — the Mortal Realm."

"Oh!" Colt almost laughed. "Yeah. You're not in the Mortal Realm anymore, buddy."

"I'm in Acadie?" Milo asked.

Axl nodded. "Yep."

"Right now, you're in the Willow Fingers," Colt explained. "It's part of the Common Regions."

"How do I get back home?" asked Milo.

"Through a doorway," said Axl. "I don't know what doorway would be closest to your home, though."

"Oh!" Milo almost shouted. "I know where one is. There's one in, um, the House of Wisdom."

"Is that where you came through?" asked Colt.

"Last time," said Milo. "This time, I–" he shrugged. "I don't know where I came through. It was like an overgrown and dying park…with a rainbow tiger."

"Wait?" Colt smiled. "You've been to Acadie twice?"

"Yep," Milo nodded.

"You're lying!" Axl argued with a chuckle.

"No, I'm not," Milo insisted. "About a day-and-a-half ago, I was about to go to the bathroom and wound up in the House of Wisdom. Then, about an hour or two ago, I walked through a doorway and wound up, wherever the fuck I was." He folded his arms. "By the way, it was like three in the morning when I appeared here — how is it like the middle of the afternoon now?"

"Time doesn't work the same way here," Axl replied.

"Can you tell me how to get to the House of Wisdom?" Milo asked.

"Sure," Colt said. "Just keep following us. We're headed in that general direction…for now, anyway. The House of Wisdom is on Star Island; that's about a day's walk north of here."

"Well, a day's walk, and two ferry rides," said Axl.

Milo nodded. "Thank you!"

The three boys started walking down the brick road.

The landscapes on either side of the path were vast and beautiful. In the distance were mountains, valleys, rivers, and trees. The weather was balmy, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

"So, is it impolite for me to ask about your legs," Milo asked about a half hour into their journey.

Colt looked down and clicked his hooves on the brick. "You don't have people like me in the Mortal World, do you?" Colt chuckled. "I'm an ipotane."

"That means he's half-centaur," Axl explained.

"Which half?" asked Milo.

Colt nodded. "My mom was human, and my dad is — "

" — hot as all fuck!" interjected Axl.

"Will you shut up about that, already?" Colt turned to Axl. "You're supposed to be my boyfriend. Would you quit perving on my dad." Colt reached over and tugged on Axl's wrist.

Milo burst out laughing.

"Sorry, sexy," said Axl. He leaned over and kissed Colt's cheek.

We're actually heading to meet up with my dad," said Colt. He and a herd of Centaurs just fought a battle against the President's armies. He sent a message to meet him in the northern half of the Willow Fingers tomorrow."

"What's your dad look like?" asked Milo.

"He's huge!" Axl shouted. "He's not the biggest centaur in the Desert, but he's close. He's a gray and black Percheron. And he's so tall, I can't even see over his back."

Milo grinned. "Have you ever — I mean, can you ride a centaur like you can ride a horse? Is that insensitive?"

"Sure, you can ride a centaur," said Colt.

"I wish I could ride your dad," Axl said, followed by a playful growl.

Milo laughed.

Colt groaned and turned his face abruptly away from Axl's. He looked to Milo "So, you've really been to Acadie twice?"

"Yeah — is that strange?" Milo asked.

Axl nodded. "Yeah!"

"About one-in-a-million doorways lead to Acadie," Colt explained. "And each of those doorways will only take someone to Acadie about one-in-a-million times. That's a one-in-a-trillion chance someone will walk into Acadie twice in their life." He paused. "And you doing it two days in a row is just shy of impossible."

"Uh…" Milo shrugged. "Well, it happened. Maybe it was magic."

"What do you know about magic?" asked Axl.

"Only what I read in Harry Potter," Milo answered.

Colt laughed. "So, nothing."

"Have you even read Harry Potter?" asked Milo.

Colt shrugged. "I've read enough. It gets magic all wrong!"

"How?" asked Milo.

"Well, first of all," Colt began, "like half of the spells in that book are in Latin."

"Is Latin bad?" asked Milo.

"The idea of magic words is bad," explained Axl. "What matters is the intention, the effort, and the energy behind a spell. Not the words."

"There's only one magic language," said Colt. "And we're speaking it."

"English?" asked Milo.

Colt pointed to himself then to Axl. "We're not speaking English. Maybe you are. But Axl and I are speaking Acaderian."

"It sounds like English to me," said Milo.

"Exactly!" said Axl.

"There is magic in the atmosphere, here in Acadie," explained Colt. "We're not speaking in the same language as you are, but it sounds like English to you because that's the language you know best."

Milo cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow.

"In the brief moments after the words leave our lips and before they reach your ears," began Axl, "they change from our language to yours."

"You're speaking English, but to Axl and me, it sounds like Acaderian," said Colt.

"Is that true for all languages?" asked Milo.

"Any language that's spoken here," explained Axl. "For the most part."

"There are a few exceptions," continued Colt. "But, Acaderian is even more magical than that."

"How so?" asked Milo.

"After living here for about three days, you will start instinctively speaking Acaderian," said Colt. "And, when you go back to the Mortal Realm, everyone will understand you."

"Wait, what?!" Milo grinned as he spoke.

"Yeah!" said Axl. "Acaderian is a magical language. In Acadie, everyone can understand whatever you say, regardless of what language you're speaking."

"And, outside Acadie — in the Mortal World — everyone understands Acaderian as whatever language they're expecting to hear," said Colt.

"So, in three days I'll be speaking fluent Acaderian?" asked Milo. "And, after I go home, everyone will understand everything I say, regardless of what language they speak?"

"Yep, you got it," said Colt.

"That's fuckin' awesome!" Milo giggled. "I love Acadie!"

"Maybe you should just stay here, then," suggested Axl. "My mom was from the Mortal World. But she loved it here so much, she never left."

"Where's your mom, now?" asked Milo.

Axl didn't reply.

Colt began whispering, "His parents were, um," he gulped. "They were killed when the President's armies took over the Heartlands."

"I'm sorry," said Milo. "My parents died when I was pretty little. I don't really remember them."

Just then, Milo, Colt, and Axl turned their heads as a sound echoed down the roadway. It was the rubbing rumble of tires on pavement. The boys moved over to the side of the road as a large, golden, SUV rolled down the street.

"You have cars in Acadie?" asked Milo.

"Yeah," said Colt as if it were obvious. "Don't you have cars in the Mortal World?"

The SUV came to an abrupt stop a few feet in front of the boys.

"Colt, you should probably run," Axl whispered, nervously.

"I'm not leaving you," Colt replied.

"What's going on?" asked Milo.

Then the doors to the SUV opened. Out of the back of the vehicle, two men in suits and dark sunglasses exited. And, out of the passenger's seat, came a man with smoky skin, a fedora, and a leather blazer.

"Belial," Milo mumbled to himself, as he gripped his stick in his hands.

A third suited man exited from the driver's seat and walked around to the front of the SUV.

"Well, well, well." Belial's voice was deep and hung in the air. "Agent Walker, Dave, Jeff — Do my eyes deceive me?" He began walking toward the three boys. "It looks like we found ourselves another half-breed." He smiled a malicious grin. "Hello, ipotane."

Milo bit his lower lip then shouted, "Run!" With the branch in his hand, Milo dodged toward the demon and his henchmen.

"Milo, don't!" shouted Axl.

Milo ran at Belial first. He gripped the bottom of his branch and swung it like a staff, aiming for Belial's head.

The demon effortlessly dodged Milo's attack, but Milo kept swinging. The boy swung the branch around in an arc, turning around as he did so, and striking Belial forcefully in the stomach.

"Uh!" Belial groaned and stumbled backward.

Milo swung his stick again, this time striking the demon's head. While Belial struggled to get back up, Milo turned around and began swinging the branch indiscriminately at the three henchmen. "Run away!" he shouted to Axl and Colt.

The three men attempted to charge at the small boy. But, before they could get too close, Milo ran toward two of them, planted the branch firmly into the brick road, and used it to vault himself into the air. He kicked two henchmen in the face — one with each bare foot — before falling back to the ground.

Before the two henchmen he had just kicked could stand up, Milo ran at the third henchman. He swung his stick low, striking the agent's ankles, and tripping him.

Milo towered over the agent that had just fallen to the ground and lifted the stick high above his head. He swung it downward, prepared to hit the man's face when he heard a loud bang: a gunshot!

Belial had stood up from the ground, and in his hand was a large, golden handgun. The demon pulled the trigger again, and a bullet soared through the air, striking Milo's branch and breaking it in half. Belial shot off one more round, this one to the side of the road.

Colt let out a blood-curdling scream as a bullet slid into his gut.

"COLT!" Axl shouted.

Milo ducked to the ground. He picked up both halves of the stick and threw them at Belial. The first half struck the demon's wrist and knocked the gun from his hand. The second half would've hit Belial's face, had the demon not ducked his head to the side.

Milo stood back up and kicked the downed henchman. He ran full speed toward the gun that was now laying on the brick road. "Axl, get Colt out of here!" he shouted.

Belial, likewise, ran toward the weapon.

While Milo reached down to pick up the gun, Belial reached down and lifted Milo into the air. "That's enough of that, little boy."

"Let me go!" Milo screamed, punching at the demon's face.

Two of Belial's henchmen approached their master. They reached up, each grabbing one of Milo's wrists.

Milo looked to the side of the road. Axl and Colt were nowhere to be seen.

Belial let go of the writhing preteen and looked around his immediate area. "I lose a halfbreed because of you!" the demon shouted. "You little, insignificant worm!"

Belial reached down and picked up his gun from the brick road. He cocked the weapon and aimed it at Milo's head.

Milo started into Belial's eyes and gritted his teeth.

Then Belial smiled. "You've got something in you. Something different." He turned to his henchmen. "No reason to go back empty-handed. Throw the little boy in the trunk," he ordered. "When we get back to Cíbola, I want him put with the other half-breeds."

"You might be more important than a normal boy," commented Belial.

"Go to Hell," Milo spat.

"Been there," replied the demon. "Acadie has a greater potential for destruction." He winked to Milo then turned to one of his agents. "Honestly, when a place is ruled by Angra Mainyu, it can only get so much more chaotic."

Milo groaned and struggled as he was thrown into the trunk of the SUV.

Chapter 14
The Forest Primeval

After a half hour of rowing, Jackson, Wesley, and Chance arrived on the shores of the island soaking wet.

Chance strapped his quiver around his back as he exited the canoe.

Wesley pointed off the shore. The banks of Camp Ozland were no longer visible. And the sky was now a shimmering, bronze-like color. "We're definitely not in Louisiana anymore."

"I second that," echoed Jackson pointing inland. Beyond a small collection of trees, were the high walls of what looked some sort of military fort.

Chance gulped. "Maybe there's someone inside?"

The trees surrounding the three boys began to rustle.

"Or maybe they're outside," said Jackson nervously. He picked up his iron pokers and held them up like swords.

Chance reached over his shoulder and withdrew an arrow from his quiver. He locked the bolt into his bowstring and drew it tight.

Wesley dug his sneakers into the sand of the beach, adjusted the brass knuckles on his fists, and adopted a fighting stance.

The three boys stood with their backs together, ready and waiting for whatever may come.

A dozen men emerged from behind the trees. They wore loose-fitting, brightly colored, cloth skirts, carved metal breastplates. Their exposed skin was covered in tiny white dots of paint. Each one was brandishing a short sword in one hand, and a round shield in the other.

"Are we ready, boys?" asked Jackson.

Wesley gulped. "Yeah."

"I — I guess," Chance stuttered.

"No time for guessing," said Jackson. "It's now or never."

Jackson ran forward at one of the soldiers. He quickly ducked under the man's sword, striking his legs with an iron poker. The man fell down, as blood spurted from his thighs. Jackson rolled and stood back up, prepared to strike the next man who approached him.

Wesley charged at another soldier. He jumped up into the air and landed on the man's upturned shield. Before the soldier could react to a small boy perching on his shield, Wesley punched downward, his brass knuckles clocking the soldier's exposed forehead. As the man fell to the ground, Wesley jumped off his shield and landed softly on the sand.

Three soldiers began running toward Chance.

Chance bit his lip and backed up. "Non-lethal," he mumbled to himself as he pulled his arrow taught on the string. He loosed the arrow, quickly reloaded, shot another bolt, reloaded, and shot a third arrow into the air. Two soldiers dropped their swords, arrows now sticking out of the palms of their hands. The third soldier fell to the ground — an arrow lodged in his ankle.

Jackson swung around his two pokers together in a semi-circular arc. They landed hard on a solder's wrist, knocking the sword from his hand. He turned and swung one poker behind him without looking: it pierced the shoulder of another attacking troop.

Wesley effortlessly moved around each sword that came crashing down near him. He dodged them so fluidly, it looked almost like he was dancing. As Wesley moved beyond the swords, he likewise avoided the soldier's shields. Barely breaking sweat, Wesley punched one soldier repeatedly in the arm, until he dropped his shield; then punched him between the eyes, causing the soldier to stumble backward, trip over his own shield, and hit the ground with a bang. Wesley punched the next soldier directly in the groin: the man fell to the ground sobbing and holding his crotch.

Three soldiers remained standing. They worked their way closer to Jackson, Wesley, and Chance.

"That's enough!" came a deep yet feminine voice from within the trees. "Stand down!"

A woman, dressed from head-to-toe in metal armor emerged from the forest. She held her hands out to her sides: the trees and branches literally moved and bent away from her, making a clear path as she walked.

"They are children! They do not pose a threat," She shouted.

"Are you sure about that, Your Worship," said one of the few standing soldiers, as he motioned to his brethren lying on the ground in pain.

"Are you questioning me!?" the woman hollered.

"No, Your Worship," the soldier hung his head humbly, then sunk to one knee, bowing.

The woman turned to Jackson, Wesley, and Chance. "Who are you, and what is your purpose here?"

"Who are we?" asked Wesley. "Who are you?"

"I am Athena: the goddess of wisdom and warfare! And you will not address me so informally!" she shouted. "Who are you?"

"The Athena?" Wesley mumbled quietly.

Jackson stepped forward. "My name is Jackson Poe," he said. "This is Wesley Rhodes and Chance Vanessa. We are here looking for a friend who's disappeared."

Athena paused for a moment and looked over the bleeding soldiers on the sand. She took a deep breath, then turned to one of the soldiers. "Bring the wounded to the infirmary." She looked back to Jackson. "You're very young. It's impressive you and your brothers were able to handle the guards so effortlessly."

Jackson nodded. "Thank you. Wesley and I take Kung — "

Athena held up her hand. "I respect your strength and skill. If you'd like to follow me back to the fort, we can discuss your missing friend."

The pines and the hemlock seemed to almost murmur and speak as the boys followed the goddess through the thick forest of the island and toward the fort. By contrast, Athena was quiet: not saying a single word during the twenty-minute walk.

The walls of the fortress were made of heavy stone and lined with thick plates of steel. One side of the fort overlooked a small inlet, blocked by a drawbridge. The other three sides were surrounded by dense woods.

The boys were led through a series of corridors and up multiple flights of stairs until they arrived in a lavishly decorated room. The room contained large windows overlooking the sea, upholstered seating, and a large wooden table.

Four men were already in the room. A man with dreadlocks and a long beard stood in one corner. A blond man with a bow and a full quiver stood against a window. A tanned man with a sword leaned against a pillar near the center of the room. And the final man — an obscenely tall man — sat at the large table.

"Athena, who are these children?" asked the tall man as he stood up from the table. His voice was deep and gravelly.

"They are Jackson Poe, Wesley Rhodes, and Chance Vanessa," Athena said. "They sent nine of our guards to the infirmary, and would've sent more had I not stepped in."

Chance waved quickly.

"Then they are formidable warriors," said the man with the long beard and dreadlocks. "Especially for ones so young."

"Why are they here, Your Worship?" asked the blond man.

"They say they are searching for a friend who has disappeared," explained Athena.

"Hi — uh," began Wesley. "I'm Wesley. I hate to be 'that guy' but, um," he gulped, "who are you? Where are we? And, what's going on?"

"Sorry," interjected Jackson. "We're not from here — I think we're in Acadie? And we really don't know if there's, um…Should we bow down or something?"

Athena pointed to a nearby bench and motioned for the boys to sit down.

As Jackson, Wesley, and Chance took their seats, the tall man stepped forward. "My name is Kokou."

"The Kokou?" asked Wesley, his mouth agape.

"Who's Kokou?" whispered Chance as he leaned over toward Wesley.

"Yes," replied Kokou. "The most ferocious of the warrior Orishas."

"Orisha?" asked Jackson.

The tanned man with the sword stepped forward. "He is the warrior god of the Yoruba religion."

At a quick glance, Kokou appeared to be at least eight feet [2.4m] tall — maybe nine feet [2.7]. He was impossibly muscular. His features were African, but his skin tone was not one found in nature: it was very dark — almost black — with a reddish tint. His exposed arms and legs were dotted with white and yellow warpaint. He had a shaved head, and a short, coarse beard. He was wearing a pile of necklaces; white linen pants so loose they might have been a skirt; and thick boots.

Athena cleared her throat. "Kokou and I are the last remaining warrior gods," she explained. "All of our compatriots have perished in the wars against the President."

"Gods are real?" asked Jackson.

"Gods can die?" asked Chance.

The blond man stepped forward. "There is magic in belief," he explained. "You three are from the Mortal World, yes?"

Jackson nodded. "Yes."

"The collective beliefs of the people from your world brought gods into existence here, in Acadie," the blond man explained. "They are powerful; they do not age. But they can die."

"Normally," began the man with dreadlocks, "after a god dies, he is reborn out of the collective beliefs of his worshippers."

The tanned man with the sword interjected, "but no gods have been reborn since the Elements vanished."

Kokou nodded. "The warrior gods from every pantheon gathered here after the Elements vanished and the President went to war. Athena and I are the only two left. We command what is left of the armies fighting the President."

"Where is here?" asked Jackson.

"This is the Forest Primeval," explained Athena. "It was once the capital of Acadie."

"Who are you three?" asked Wesley, motioning to the remaining three men in the room.

"These are three of the strongest warriors in our armies, and three of our most trusted generals," Athena explained.

Athena pointed to the first man — the man with the long beard and dreadlocks. "This is Gilgamesh."

Wesley grinned. "Wow! Really, the Mesopotamian king?"

Gilgamesh nodded. He was a tall and obscenely muscular man, with dark dreadlocks and a thick, long beard. He looked to be of Middle Eastern descent. He was wearing gauntlets, some beaded jewelry, and a long, skirt-like cloth that touched the floor. His chest was covered in coarse and wiry hair.

Athena next pointed to the blond man with the recurve bow. "This is Palnatoki."

"'Toki' is fine," the blond man nodded to the boys.

Chance smiled a big, toothy grin.

"D'you know who he is?" asked Jackson.

Chance nodded. "Toki the Archer! A Danish hero, and the inspiration for William Tell." He almost laughed. He looked to Toki and held up his own Penobscot bow. "I'm an archer too."

Toki smiled at Chance. "I'm assuming a rather skilled archer too."

Chance blushed a bright red.

Toki was a tall and muscular man — although not as muscular as Gilgamesh or Kokou. He was a white man; he had closely-cropped blond hair, and a thick, trimmed beard. Along one arm, he was wearing an armored, leather sleeve. Likewise, he wore loose-fitting, leather, armored pants tucked into thick boots. A quiver filled with arrows was strapped around his right thigh, and a recurve bow was strapped onto his back.

Athena motioned to the final man — the tanned man with the sword. "And this is — "

" — I know who you are!" Jackson interrupted. "I'm sorry," he looked to Athena. "I didn't mean to interrupt, Your Worship. I just — I wasn't thinking."

The man folded his arms. "Then who am I?"

The man had a medium tan, dark hair, and a beard of stubble. He was wearing a Roman gladiatorial skirt atop a pair of dark pants. His boots were knee-high sandals, covered in armor, with wings on the ankles. A sheathed sword hung from his waist.

Jackson gulped and pointed to the man's sword. "You're a swordsman." He pointed to the man's skirt. "You're Roman." Finally, he pointed to the man's boots. "And you have winged shoes." He grinned. "You're Perseus."

The swordsman nodded.

"Tell me, Jackson Poe, Wesley Rhodes, and Chance Vanessa," began Kokou. "Are you three warriors planning on fighting against the President?"

"Uh…" Chance bit his lower lip.

Wesley looked at Gilgamesh and grinned. "Maybe — "

" — We're interested first in finding our friend, then we will decide as a group how we should proceed," Jackson said.

"You're clearly the leader, Jackson Poe," said Kokou. "You don't decide for them."

"That's not what good leaders do," Jackson asserted. "And I'm not their leader."

"Are you sure about that?" asked Kokou.

"How did you three make it here?" asked Athena. "You're from the Mortal World, but you seem to know about Acadie. Why do you look here for your friend?"

"We stumbled into Acadie a day and a half ago, by accident," said Jackson. "We could see this island — the Forest Primeval — from our campsite in the Mortal World, but no one else could see it. Our friend disappeared and no one remembered him but us." He shrugged. "Our friend is very, um, adventurous, I guess. So, when he disappeared, we assumed — "

" — That he came to our island. I see," said Athena. "Well, I can definitely tell you that he is in Acadie."

"You've seen him?" Chance interrupted. ". . . Your Worship?"

"I have not," answered Athena. "But while someone is in Acadie, they are all but forgotten in your world. And they remain forgotten until they return to the Mortal World."

"Why did we remember him, Your Worship?" asked Wesley.

"Magic is imprecise," answered Kokou. "There are exceptions upon exceptions that even the most talented of wizards can't account for."

"Do you know — or, how can we find out if Milo is here?" asked Jackson. "On this island?"

"He's not here," said Athena. "No one comes to the Forest Primeval without us knowing about it."

A trumpet blasted in the distance.

Toki ran toward a window while drawing an arrow from his hip and loading his bow. With his back against the stone wall, he leaned over and peered outside. "It's Sun Wukong," he said to the room. Toki returned his arrow to the quiver and shouted out the window. "Let him through! Raise the bridge!"

The boys followed Athena, Kokou, and the three warriors as they ran through corridors and down staircases. The two warrior gods and their generals stopped in a large, open, receiving area near the fort's main entrance. The room was guarded by a dozen armed soldiers.

Jackson held his hands out to his sides, stopping Chance and Wesley from following Athena and Kokou into the receiving area. "Give them their space. This looks important."

Keeping a reasonable distance from the gods and warriors, Chance walked toward a tiny hole in the wall. The "window" — if it could be called that — looked just large enough that an arrow could be shot through it. Chance pinched his left eye closed and peered through the hole with his right eye.

Outside, a small boat approached the fortress from the inlet. The vessel was operated by a man punting the boat forward with a long pole reminiscent of a Venetian gondolier. The ship docked at the edge of the inlet, and its operator jumped out onto the waterfront.

Chance's eye widened as he watched the boat operator's pole retract in his hand. In a puff of smoke, the pole shrunk from about ten feet long to less than a foot. The ferryman tucked the pole into his back pocket, knelt down, then lifted a small passenger from the raft.

The ferryman rushed to the entrance of the fort, carrying his charge. The man was tall, muscular, and shirtless, save for a vest and wrist guards. He had Asian features, dark brown hair, and mutton chops that stuck out wildly. A long, prehensile tail protruded from a hole in the back of his loose, linen pants.

In his arms, the man carried an unconscious body with blood pumping from a wound in his gut. The boy's dangling legs resembled those of a horse.

Followed closely behind the man was a boy with a deep tan and a mohawk. "Is he going to be okay?" Tears poured down the boys cheeks. "Please tell me Colt will be okay," he cried.

Athena ran toward the man with the tail. "Grullo's son? Get him to the infirmary!" She turned around and pointed to a guard. "You, clear the hallways en route. Get the doctors ready."

Carrying the boy, the man ran down a corridor at a blindingly fast speed with his tail bobbing behind him.

"He going to be okay?" cried the boy with the mohawk. "Please tell me he'll be okay." He rubbed his eyes.

"We'll do our best," said Kokou. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I've seen weaker men pull out of worse wounds."

The boy sniffed and nodded.

"What's your name?" Kokou asked.

"Axl," the boy replied. "A — Axl Amani."

"The one who did this to Colt," began Kokou. "It was one of the President's men, yes?"

Axl nodded. "Yes, Y-your Worship. Belial."

Kokou sighed. "Toki, show Axl Amani to the North Tower." He looked toward the boy. "I will send someone to speak with you about the details shortly."

Toki approached Axl and knelt down beside him. "Come on. It's not that far a walk."

Kokou turned his head sharply and made eye contact with Jackson. "I expect that you and your brothers would like to take refuge here for the night."

Jackson glanced briefly to Wesley and then Chance before looking back to Kokou. "If we can, Your Worship."

"Perseus," said Athena. "Take the warrior boys to the Northern Tower." She looked to Jackson. "I'm going to ask that you three do what you can to comfort Axl Amani. I believe he's about your age. We need to interview him, and we can't do that while he's crying. Can you do this?"

"Of course," Chance interjected.

Chapter 15
Sex, Spies, And Social Studies

The top floor of the Northern Tower was a multi-room suite. It had a spacious living area with a wooden table and three upholstered benches, and a bedroom with two large, feather beds.

Axl sat on a bench, his head in his hands.

Chance sat next to Axl, gently rubbing his back and murmuring "it'll be okay," softly and repeatedly.

Jackson and Wesley quietly sat opposite Chance and Axl.

An hour passed slowly, during which time Axl stopped crying.

"You okay?" asked Chance.

The tanned boy shrugged and rubbed his eyes. "I'm worried about him. I'm glad we made it here. I hope we made it in time."

"Are the doctors here good?" asked Jackson.

"Yeah," said Axl quietly. "The best in Acadie. They have salves that can heal almost anything."

"Do a lot of people come here when they're sick or hurt?" asked Wesley.

"No way!" Axl shook his head. "No one is allowed on this island without Athena or Kokou's approval. Unless you're one of their soldiers, you're not seeing their doctors."

"Was your friend a soldier?" asked Chance.

"No." Axl looked at Chance. "But his dad's a really important ally."

"Who's his dad?" asked Jackson.

"Chief Grullo," answered Axl.

Chance shrugged and stared blankly.

"The Leader of the Centaurs," Axl explained. "Colt and I actually met through his father. My city was attacked last year; Chief Grullo and his herd freed the other survivors and me. I didn't have anywhere to go. Chief Grullo took me in, even though I'm not a Centaur." Axl sighed. "He lets me work as a spy; I pretend to be a normal kid; and, when I overhear important stuff, I report it back to the herd."

"You're a spy?" Wesley's eyes widened.

Axl nodded. "I'm not really a fighter though. But Colt's half-Centaur, so he's pretty strong. Chief Grullo assigned Colt to protect me."

"So, Colt's sort of like your bodyguard then," said Chance.

"It started that way," said Axl. "But Colt and I have been dating for months now."

"Dating? He's your boyfriend?" asked Wesley. "You're like our age, though. Right?"

Axl looked at Wesley. "I'm twelve."

"So are we," Wesley continued. "Isn't that a little young to have a boyfriend."

"You're not from here," said Axl. "Are you?"

"What gave it away?" Jackson joked.

"Little things," Axl replied. "I notice stuff. I am a spy, after all." He breathed heavily. "You're from the Mortal World?"

Jackson nodded.

"I don't know if you know, but, Acadie's at war right now," said Axl.

"Yeah," said Wesley. "The President and his armies against everyone else."

"Because of the war, there are a lot of orphans. Kids like me have to grow up faster — learn to make it on our own. A lot of us are even fighting in the war. Almost all of us have jobs." Axl sighed. "Not a lot of twelve-year-olds have boyfriends. But it's not as weird as it used to be."

"Acadie's okay with, um, gay kids?" asked Chance.

"Sort of," Axl answered. "It's weird."

"'Weird.' How?" asked Jackson.

"If you're like…" Axl made a circle with the thumb and forefinger on his left hand and pointed his right index finger. "Uh. If you, um, like to 'give it' no one really cares."

"So, being gay is okay if you're a top?" asked Wesley.

"A top, yeah," began Axl. "That's a good way o' puttin' it."

"What about bottoms?" asked Jackson.

Axl chuckled uncomfortably. "That depends on where you go. Some places are okay with it. Some places are really against it. In a lot of places, though, people just look at you funny if they know you're a bottom." He shrugged. "A lot of people treat Colt and me like we're different or dainty or something."

"You're both bottoms?" Chance asked.

Axl nodded. "What? Two bottoms can't date?"

"No." Chance put his hands up defensively. "I didn't mean that."

"It's not a problem," Jackson interjected. "All that matters is that you love each other."

"It might just make sex weird when you get older," offered Wesley.

"Sex isn't weird," said Axl. "We mostly just have three-ways."

Chance's jaw dropped.

"Three ways with who?" asked Wesley.

Axl shrugged. "A top. Duh," he chuckled. "We don't really want to fuck each other, so we'll find someone else to fuck us both. Doesn't stuff like that happen in the Mortal World?"

"It happens," said Jackson. "But kids having sex is usually illegal, and definitely not considered normal."

"Like I said," Axl continued. "'Cause of the war, kids here have to grow up fast. It's not normal for kids our age to have sex, but it's not weird."

"Milo would love that!" Wesley joked.

Chance chuckled.

"Milo?" asked Axl.

"A friend of ours," said Jackson. "We're here looking for him."

"Happy guy? Red hair?" asked Axl. "Really good at fighting with a stick?"

"You saw Milo!?" Chance and Wesley shouted almost in perfect unison.

Axl nodded, with his mouth open. "Yeah, I — "

The door to the suite opened, Gilgamesh walked inside. "Axl Amani?" he began. "Do you have a moment to talk?"

Before Axl could reply, Wesley stood up. He pointed down at Axl, "He saw Milo! He saw our friend!"

"Your friend who disappeared?" asked Gilgamesh.

Toki, Perseus, and the ferryman walked into the suite behind Gilgamesh.

Jackson nodded. "Yes."

"Good," said Perseus. "I'll make sure you have a chance to discuss that later."

"Right now though," said Toki, "We're going to need to speak with Axl about what happened to Colt."

"They can stay," said Axl. "A lot of what happened is about their friend too."

The four men all exchanged glances.

"Alright then," said Perseus. "Let's get started."

The four men and the four boys sat around the wooden table in the center of the suite: the boys on one side, the men on the other. Jackson sat across from Perseus; Wesley across from Gilgamesh; Chance sat across from Toki; and across the table from Axl was the ferryman. The ferryman unrolled a piece of cotton paper onto the table in front of him.

"How's Colt?" Axl asked before anyone else had begun speaking.

"He's unconscious," said the ferryman. "It'll be a few days at least before he wakes up. But he's going to be fine. We made it here on time; the doctors worked quickly. He just needs to rest until he fully heals."

"He's gonna be okay," Axl breathed a sigh of relief. He put his hand on his chest and leaned back in his seat.

The ferryman turned to Jackson, Wesley, and then Chance. "I don't believe we've met. I heard that you three are a formidable team of young warriors."

"We got lucky," said Jackson.

"Don't sell yourself short, Jackson. I think it was more than luck." Perseus winked. "It was skill."

Jackson blushed.

The Ferryman cleared his throat. "I'm Sun Wukong. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I knew it!" Wesley almost shouted. "The tail…the staff that changed size. You're the Monkey King!"

Sun Wukong nodded in the affirmative.

"We sent word to Colt's father," explained Toki. "Chief Grullo is very glad you were there. You probably saved Colt's life."

Axl shook his head. "It wasn't me who saved him. It was Milo."

"Milo," repeated Gilgamesh. He looked at Wesley. "Your friend, Milo."

Wesley nodded.

"How did he save you?" asked Chance.

"I just finished an undercover mission in Halona two days ago," began Axl. "Colt and I took a boat from the northern peninsula of Halona to the Eastern shore of the Willow Fingers, a little less than a day's walk south from where we were going to meet up with Colt's dad. We ran into Milo on the Bronze Highway about a mile north of Eden."

Sun Wukong wrote down a few notes on his paper.

"Milo said he was lost," Axl continued. "He knew that there was a doorway back to his home in the House of Wisdom. Colt and I offered to show him the way there." Axl took a deep breath. "We were walking with Milo for less than an hour before we were ambushed."

"By Belial?" asked Toki.

"Yeah," answered Axl. "And three of his agents. T-they wanted Colt."

"Because he's a half-breed," said Chance.

"An ipotane: half-human, half-centaur. Yeah," said Axl. "It looked like Milo recognized Belial or something. He told Colt and me to run, and he attacked Belial with a tree branch he was using as a walking stick."

Jackson nodded. "He kept his word."

"What word?" asked Perseus.

"The four of us — me, Wesley, Chance, and Milo — we agreed that if we ever ran into Belial again, we would try to do something to stop him," Jackson explained. "We saw him when we were in Acadie the other day; and then, yesterday, we saw him in the Mortal World. No one else in the Mortal World could see him, though. Just us."

"We were kinda scared when we saw him in our world," said Chance. "We should've fought against him right then and there."

"If we did, people would've thought we were crazy," said Wesley. "But we know how dangerous Belial is. So we…We felt bad that we didn't at least try to do something."

"The four of us made a deal that if we ever saw him again, we would fight him," Jackson said firmly. "Even if it meant being killed."

"That's very admirable," said Toki. He reached across the table and lightly squeezed Chance's shoulder.

"He shouldn't have been in your world," said Gilgamesh.

"But he was," said Wesley. "I saw him."

"Demons are wholly and purely magical beings," explained Gilgamesh. "They can't fully cross the boundaries separating our worlds absent some immensely strong sorcery."

"Fully summoning a demon from one world into another would require the energy from a team of magicians working around the clock for weeks," said Perseus. "Unless someone can unlock a doorway from your world to ours."

"Maybe someone will summon Belial or will unlock a doorway," argued Wesley. "Time doesn't work the same way here, right? Maybe tomorrow in Acadie is yesterday in the Mortal World. Someone in my world could've summoned Belial a year ago, but he just hasn't gotten the message yet."

"That's very possible." Gilgamesh smiled and looked at Wesley. "You're the brains of the group, aren't you?"

"Pretty much," Wesley grinned and met Gilgamesh's gaze.

"Wait," Chance interrupted. "So what happened to Milo?"

"He kept telling Colt and me to run," said Axl. "I don't think Belial and his agents expected Milo to fight them; because he was — he was winning." Axl exhaled. "Then Belial took out his gun."

Jackson's jaw dropped.

"His gun!?" Wesley repeated.

"Did — i-is Milo okay?" Chance squeaked.

"The first shot missed," said Axl softly. "The second one hit Milo's staff and broke it in half. And the third bullet hit Colt." He gulped. "I didn't hear any more gunshots after that."

"So none of the bullets hit Milo, then, right?" Jackson pleaded.

"I–I don't think so," Axl said. "But Colt was shot, so I ran." He started tearing up. "I ran as fast as I could toward the sea." Axl looked to Sun Wukong. "Thank you again for getting my message."

Sun Wukong nodded. "You did the right thing, Axl."

"Is Milo okay?" Chance asked.

"They — If they didn't shoot him…What would they have done?" asked Wesley.

The men glanced back-and-forth at one another.

"I'm sorry to say this," said Perseus. "But, as much as Belial likes death, he likes pain even more. From what I know of him, I think it's likely your friend is alive. But he's probably locked up and — "

" — being tortured," Wesley interrupted. "Is that what you were going to say?"

"Where would Milo be?" asked Jackson.

Perseus sighed. "By now? Halfway to El Dorado. Belial has a compound on the southern-most tip."

"El Dorado?" asked Wesley. "The City of Gold?"

Gilgamesh nodded. "Correct again."

"Can we get Milo back?" asked Jackson. "Can we send an army to El Dorado and break into Belial's compound? We need to save Milo."

"You're all familiar with the Elemental Regions?" asked Perseus.

"Yeah," said Jackson. "Each Element ruled a nation of Acadie. Then, when the Twelve Elements disappeared, their regions were locked up. No one can get in or out."

"Except half-breeds," said Chance.

"That's right," said Toki, nodding to Chance. "Power — the President — is the only Element that didn't disappear; so its region was never locked up. El Dorado is the Elemental Region of Power."

"Well, one of the Elemental Regions of Power," interjected Sun Wukong. "We've lost a lot of territory during the war. The President has taken over a number of large nations all across Acadie."

"My home was in a place called the Heartlands," said Axl. "After the President took it over, they renamed it 'Matsaki.' It's one of the President's 'Seven Cities of Gold'." he scoffed.

"I'm sorry," said Chance.

"We can't break into El Dorado," said Gilgamesh. "Our armies are weak enough as it is. We don't have the strength or the numbers to fight on the President's home turf."

"We have to do something!" Wesley argued.

"We'll go in!" Jackson pounded his fist onto the table and stood up abruptly. "If your army won't go in, then I will!"

"If you're caught, you'll be killed." Perseus held up his hand. "It's not safe."

"We don't give a fuck if it's safe," said Wesley, standing up beside Jackson. "Our friend is being tortured. We can't just let that be!"

Gilgamesh sighed. "If they catch you — "

" — Then we better make sure we're not caught." Chance stood up as well.

Toki sighed. "If you three are dead-set on going, we can't stop you."

"But we highly advise against it," said Sun Wukong.

"Can you at least get us there?" asked Jackson.

Perseus paused. "Possibly."

Chapter 16
Horse Cock

Werseus, Gilgamesh, Toki, and Sun Wukong led Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and Axl through a dozen hallways, down five flights of stairs, to a basement in the far end of the fortress. The four men and the four boys arrived at what looked like the doorway to a giant safe: a closed, circular, metal door. The hatch was flanked on either side by a man in armor wielding a spear.

Gilgamesh nodded, signaling the guards.

The wardens dropped their spears, turned a crank in the middle of the hatch, and slowly it creaked open.

The four men and the four boys walked inside, and the gate closed behind them.

Sixteen wooden doorways stood in a circle in the center of the room. Each door was unremarkable, save for a strange and unique symbol carved into each one.

Aside from the dark marble floor and the sixteen doorways, the room was completely empty. There was no ceiling; no walls. A glimmering expanse that looked like the night sky extended outward from where the room's borders should've been.

"This," said Perseus, "is the Nexus of Doors."

"What is it?" asked Jackson.

"Each of these doorways connects to a region in Acadie." Toki pointed to one door upon which a red spiky symbol was carved. "This doorway leads to the Elemental Region of Fire." He pointed to another doorway with a yellow, swirling symbol carved into it. "This one leads to the Elemental Region of Air."

"What are the other three doorways for?" asked Wesley. "Twelve doors for the Twelve Elemental Regions; one for the Elemental Region of Power. That makes thirteen. There are sixteen doors here."

Gilgamesh smiled and patted Wesley on the back. "You're very observant, aren't you?"

Wesley blushed.

"This doorway leads to the Common Regions: the parts of Acadie that aren't — or weren't — ruled by an Element," said Sun Wukong as he pointed to a door with a bronze, repetitive, pattern-like sigil carved into the wood. "This door," Sun Wukong knocked on a door that lacked a sigil, "leads to your world: the Mortal World."

"Figures, we get the blank door. No magic," Wesley groaned. "What about the last door?"

Gilgamesh approached the final door. It had a silver spiral etched into it. "We're not actually sure where this one leads. It's always been locked. Even before the Twelve Elements vanished."

Chance walked up to a door with a jagged, gold sigil drawn in its center. "This one leads to El Dorado?"

"That's right," said Toki.

"Can we use it to go there?" asked Chance.

Toki shook his head. "It's locked."

"I thought El Dorado wasn't locked up," said Jackson.

"It's not," said Perseus. "But this specific doorway is. The President wouldn't want to leave us with a gateway to his home base."

"And our best sorcerers spent weeks making sure that the President couldn't unlock this gate even if he wanted to," Gilgamesh continued. "We don't want to give him easy access to our fort."

Perseus approached the door to the Common Regions and knocked on it. "This gateway connects to eleven points across Acadie. We can use it to send you to a place called the Desert Hook. From there, you can take a boat to the shores of El Dorado."

"A desert? We don't know Acadie as it is!" exclaimed Chance. "We're gonna get lost."

"No you won't," said Sun Wukong. "Isn't that right, Axl?" He turned to look at the boy with the mohawk.

"One of Chief Grullo's herds lives in the Desert Hook," explained Axl. "I can send a message and get a couple of them to give us a ride to the shore."

"Great," said Wesley. "But, let's say we do this. We go through this door. We go to the Desert Hook. We ride Centaurs to the seashore. We take a boat to the coast of El Dorado. How do we get inside El Dorado? It's gotta be heavily fortified."

"You're not wrong," said Gilgamesh.

Axl raised his hand in the air. "One of my informants is a guard there," He looked to Jackson. "I can come with you as far as the entrance to El Dorado. I can convince my friend to let you three inside."

Jackson looked at Wesley who nodded, then he looked at Chance. "So, it's settled then." He turned to Axl. "How long will it take to get a message to the herd in the Desert Hook?"

"A couple of hours at most," said Axl. "The Forest Primeval has some pretty speedy magicians."

"Then, unless anyone here has a problem with it, we'll go first thing in the morning," said Jackson.

No one argued.

"Good." Jackson folded his arms.

The boys and Axl were treated to a simple dinner in the Northern Tower. It consisted of some sort of waterfowl that Wesley couldn't identify covered in spices; a bowl of some strange, spiral-shaped tuber; and a single mushroom the size of a basketball that the four boys split like a pie. Axl explained that the bird was a fennave — a delicacy from Muruwul. The tuber, which tasted quite a bit like a sweet potato, was a grass yam. And the mushroom was called a myrcrown.

The boys devoured their supper — Jackson, Wesley, and Chance had not eaten since the night before at Camp Ozland. And, after dinner, the boys got a well-deserved night's sleep.

Axl took one of the beds in the Northern Tower for himself. Jackson, Wesley, and Chance, lacking any pajamas, stripped down to their underwear and snuggled into a pile on the second bed.

Chance's eyes fluttered open a little after midnight.

On the other side of the room, Axl was sniffling and sobbing softly into his pillow.

Groggily, Chance lifted his head from its resting place on Jackson's chest. He slipped out from under the covers, tiptoed across the room, and slid into Axl's bed.

Axl wiped a tear from his eye and looked at Chance. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He gulped. "I — I miss him so much."

"Shhh…" Chance wrapped his arms around Axl's chest, spooning the other boy. "Colt's gonna be okay. We got you."

In the morning, the boys were again treated to an exotic meal. Axl sat in the infirmary with an unconscious Colt while Jackson, Wesley, and Chance washed in a Roman-style bath beneath the fort.

It was still early in the morning when the four boys met Sun Wukong at the entrance to the Nexus of Doors.

"Are you sure you're ready?" asked Sun Wukong as he turned the crank and opened the gateway to the Nexus. "This is going to be dangerous."

"But it's the right thing to do," Jackson said firmly.

"If it weren't for Milo, Colt probably would be dead," Axl said. "The least I can do is help."

Inside the room, the boys gathered around the doorway to the Common Regions.

"Think about where you want to go," instructed Sun Wukong. "Think about the Desert Hook."

"I don't know what the Desert Hook looks like," said Wesley.

"Just imagine it," said Sun Wukong. "Intention guides magic more than anything else." He paused. "Ready?" He opened the door.

On the other side of the threshold was a vast and sandy expanse, dotted by the occasional tuft of dried grass. One by one, the four boys walked through the doorway and into the Desert Hook.

The portal through which the boys had just walked faded into a dune as Sun Wukong waved goodbye and closed the door.

"Where's the herd of Centaurs?" Jackson used his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "Did they get your message?"

Axl glanced around the desert. He pointed to a brown dot in the distance. "Over there!"

The boys followed Axl to a makeshift, rectangular tent — a brown sheet held aloft by wooden poles. Standing within the canopy were six, tall, muscular centaurs.

"Woah!" Chance mumbled under his breath.

"They're really real," whispered Wesley.

Each centaur stood at least 6 and a half feet tall. Their bodies resembled those of muscular, draft horses in varying shades of brown, black, and tan. But, where the horse's head should have been, a man's torso extended. The hairstyle of each centaur resembled a mohawk — much like Axl's albeit significantly longer. Reminiscent of a horse's mane, their hairlines began at their foreheads, with the last of their roots at the small of each centaur's back. Small, metal studs pierced their nipples.

One centaur relaxed, sitting on all fours in the center of the tent. He stood up as the boys approached.

"That's Rowdon," said Axl as he walked toward the middle of the tent. "Aside from Colt's dad, he's the most highly ranked member of the herd."

Rowdon was significantly taller than all of the other centaurs. His lower half resembled a buckskin clydesdale. Tan fur faded into tan skin around his waist, then reappeared in the form of coarse hair on his chest. His mane and tail were deep coal color that matched his severe eyes. "Axl, it's been a long time." He walked toward the boys.

"Hello, Rowdon," Axl bowed slightly as he greeted the creature.

Jackson quickly motioned to Wesley and Chance, and all three of them bowed as well.

"I heard about Colt." Rowdon grabbed a cup off a nearby table and took a swig. "I'm glad he's pulling through."

"Me too." Axl fanned himself with his hand.

"So," Rowden walked past Axl and toward Jackson, Wesley, and Chance. "These are the kids you want me to transport?" He looked the three boys up and down, licking his lips.

Axl introduced the boys. "This is Jackson, Wesley, and Chance."

"Hi," said Wesley.

"Hello." Chance bit his lower lip.

"How are you?" Jackson stepped toward Rowdon and extended his hand.

Rowdon looked at Jackson's outstretched arm for a moment before shaking his hand. He turned toward Axl. "Why am I helping them?"

"They're trying to save the boy that saved Colt," said Axl. "Colt: my boyfriend, your chief's son. Remember?"

Rowden turned around. "I meant, what's in it for me?"

"I think Chief Grullo would appreciate your help," Axl stepped closer to the giant centaur.

Rowdon walked up to Axl and knelt down. Even kneeling, he was still taller than Axl. "I don't think the chief would mind if I played around a little bit first." He reached out and placed his hand on Axl's chest. "Do you?"

Axl smiled.

Rowdon's pulled Axl in closer, his hand gripping the boy's torso. "It's a shame your boyfriend isn't here. You two make such a good tag team." He leaned his head closer to Axl's. "Two tongues gliding over my skin feel better than one."

Axl glanced around. "D'you have another tent? Some place more private we can go?"

"I'm sure the rest of the herd wouldn't mind watching. I like an audience." Rowdon growled softly. "And maybe your friends can learn a thing or two."

Axl blushed. "Out here?" He looked over to Jackson, Wesley, and Chance, with a red face. "I don't know — "

" — Don't argue," Rowdon commanded. He touched his finger to Axl's chin and tilted the boy's face upward. "Take your shirt off."

Axl glanced around, nodded, then proceeded to pull off his vest.

"Slowly!" Rowdon commanded. "I want to enjoy this."

Axl grinned as he dropped his vest into the sand. Gingerly, he grabbed the base of his t-shirt and began pulling it upward. His stomach was taught and firm. Like the rest of the herd that adopted him, Axl's tiny nipples were pierced with small, bronze studs. Axl's shirt fell to the ground.

"Now your pants," Rowdon ordered.

Axl kicked off his shoes before reaching for the waistband of his leather pants. He unbuttoned his fly and began sliding the trousers down his legs revealing tan-lines that began around his hips.

Axl's body was devoid of hair, and his skin was smooth. His tight ass was pert and muscular. And his cocklette was little, uncircumcised, and very, very erect.

"I can see you're enjoying this, little boy," Rowdon growled. "Isn't that right?"

Axl blushed harder. His nod was almost imperceptible.

"Say it out loud," Rowdon ordered.

"Yeah," Axl mumbled.

"I can't hear you," Rowdon said. "'Yeah…' what? You're excited?"

Axl took a deep breath. "I'm excited."

"You're turned on?" Rowden asked.

"I'm very turned on," Axl answered.

"That's a good little foal," Rowdon chuckled. He stood up and looked over toward Jackson, Wesley, and Chance. "You three should watch." He walked to the edge of the tent and stood in front of a blanket that had been laid down on the sand. He pointed to the sheet. "Sit down. Get a good view. Enjoy the show."

Jackson held out his hand to the side, motioning for Wesley and Chance to stay put. He looked at Axl, his brow furrowed as if he were seeking approval.

Axl, though, did not look back at Jackson. His eyes, instead, were trained on the sheath between Rowdon's legs. He began walking toward Rowdon's hind legs.

"Not until I say so, boy," Rowdon said.

"Okay," Axl replied breathily.

"I think we're good to watch," said Wesley, his hand covering the tent that had formed in his shorts.

"Yeah," Chance agreed, his own stiffy growing.

"You're right." Jackson put his arm down. "We're good." He motioned toward the blanket and walked toward it.

The three boys sat down crosslegged a mere three feet from Rowdon and Axl. Each had a noticeable tent in his lap.

At the same time, the five other centaurs in the tent congregated on the other side of Rowdon and Axl, smiling and watching intently.

Rowdon looked down at the three boys and grinned devilishly. "I think you three will like this." He clicked his tongue. "Boy!" he shouted.

Axl stood up straight.

"Get to it!" He ordered. "Let me feel that faggot tongue in my sheath!"

Axl nodded and ran between the centaur's legs. Rowden was so tall that Axl barely had to duck his head. The boy placed both of his little hands on either side of the centaur's leathery sheath and rubbed. He leaned his face forward, extended his tongue, and slipped it into the hole.

"Taste good, boy?" Rowdon asked.

"Mm-hmm," Axl moaned. His tongue swirled around, dipping further into the sheath while hands drifted backward towards Rowdon's large, dangling balls. He cupped one, softball-sized testicle in each hand and gently rubbed them. Axl's own little cocklette throbbed while he moaned.

"Woah," Wesley said under his breath. "Are you as hard as I am?" He reached over and placed his palm into Jackson's lap.

"Uh-huh," Jackson replied, not letting his eyes drift away from the spectacular show playing out before him.

Axl pulled his head back slightly as the centaur's cock started to protrude from its sheath. The little boy kept his tongue on Rowdon's cock as it grew, alternating between kissing the tip and licking up the shaft.

"How big is it going to get?" whispered Chance, as the horse dick kept growing longer and harder.

One of the other centaurs — a chestnut-colored Friesian — chuckled. "Rowdon's pizzle maxes out at about two-feet [60cm] long, little one." He walked around the sexual display, eventually sitting down behind Jackson, Wesley, and Chance.

Chance's eyes widened, and his lips curled into a smile.

"Can Axl take a dick that big?" Jackson asked, turning his head briefly toward the Friesian that had sat behind him.

"Not all of it," the centaur replied.

Rowdon's cock reached its max length. It was as thick as a baseball bat, leathery and black with pink patches and a flat head. Little Axl's tongue moved around the head in exaggerated circles, occasionally dipping its tip into the cock's piss hole.

Axl moved back slightly, then stepped to the side of Rowdon, his tiny, bubbly butt facing Jackson, Wesley, and Chance. He ran his lips along the shaft of the cock while using both his hands to masturbate it's length as best he could. Moaning all the while.

Axl slid his outstretched tongue downward until it landed on Rowdon's heavy balls. He kissed each testicle tenderly, with little drops of saliva connecting his lips to the horse's thick scrotum. "Mmmm," he moaned. His tongue dragged behind the horse's balls for the briefest of seconds before he started licking back up the shaft.

Axl let his right hand fall from the massive phallus. His hand rubbed his tiny, tanned and hairless torso, moved around to his back, and eventually landed on his small butt. He slipped his middle finger between his asscheeks.

"You better stop that, boy," shouted the Friesian who was seated behind Jackson, Wesley, and Chance. "Your job is to make Rowdon feel good, not to pleasure yourself."

"Mm-hmm," Axl agreed, removing his finger from his ass and placing it lovingly back on Rowdon's balls.

"Move to the other side, foal," commanded Rowdon. "Let the rest of the herd see your baby ass while you work this cock."

Axl complied and switched to licking the other side of the two-foot-long centaur dick. His uncut stiffy was now visible to the boys. It looked uncomfortably hard, as it involuntarily throbbed with Axl's every heartbeat. Like his dicklette, Axl's nipples also stuck out hard — their piercings making them even more noticeable.

Axl moved back to the front of Rowdon's pizzle and began licking the head again. He opened his mouth wide and tried to get the head entirely between his lips.

"That's right little horse whore," Rowdon moaned. "Don't fucking stop!"

"I didn't think it was possible for someone's mouth to open that wide!" Wesley's jaw dropped.

"You'd be surprised how much a boy your age can stretch," said the Friesian.

"Take it out of your mouth now, foal," shouted Rowdon. "Unless you want to be bloody."

Quickly, Axl pulled the massive horse cock from between his lips, and just in time too. No sooner had he freed the cock than its glans began expanding, doubling their size.

Without missing a beat, Axl returned to kissing and licking the cock head. "I love you cock," he moaned under his breath.

"I bet you do, little boy," replied Rowdon. The centaur dug his hoofs into the sand and began humping his hind legs slightly. With each thrust, the giant-sized dick slapped Axl's smooth face, coating it with dripping precum.

"I'm getting close, slut." Rowdon groaned. "Get ready to swallow."

Axl didn't let up licking the cock head or massaging the length of the monster, though. But, as the first spurt of thick, creamy, horse semen shot from the length of Rowdon's cock, Axl abruptly pulled his face back. The little boy opened his mouth wide as globs of semen blasted from the flat cock head.

It was almost like a faucet turning on — the cock pouring more than shooting at times. Axl reattached his open mouth to Rowdon's dick and began swallowing as the cum filled his mouth. He alternated between his cheeks bulging and his throat gulping. Jizz dripped down his chin and cascaded down his chest before puddling into a sticky mess in the sand at Axl's feet.

After a minute of drinking cum, Axl pulled his face away and stepped out from underneath the centaur. "That was amazing," the little boy commented through heavy breaths. He walked so he was standing in front of Rowdon. His little dicklette was still hard and throbbing. The front of his body was a dripping, gooey mess.

"You're not done, faggot," Rowdon laughed. "There are five other men here that have been watching you."

Axl looked around at the other centaurs, all of whom now had visible erections. "Five at once? I've never had that many."

"I know you've taken at least two of us at once before," Rowdon said. "Do you think its fair to turn these men on and not get them off?"

Axl shook his head. "I can do it," he said.

"Good!" said Rowdon. He reached his hands down and effortlessly picked up Axl from beneath the boy's armpits. Rowdon laid Axl down on his back on a large stack of hay. "Get ready."

The Friesian sitting behind the boys stood up and walked toward Axl. His erect horse cock swinging with each step, only inches away from the faces of Jackson, Wesley, and Chance.

"Oh my god!" Jackson said breathily. "Axl's gonna take them all!" He stood up and walked closer to the stack of hay.

Wesley stooped up after Jackson and motioned for Chance to follow. "I wanna get a front row seat for this!"

The first centaur stepped around and stood directly over Axl. His hooves surrounding the haystack positioned at each corner. And his giant cock dangling an inch from Axl's tiny face.

The little boy lifted his head up and began kissing, licking, and sucking on the already erect dick. "Your cock is amazing, Draven," he moaned.

"You can recognize it by taste, little foal," Draven, the centaur, chuckled. Draven moved to the right side of the haystack, as the Friesian approached from the left side.

Axl sat up on the haystack, reached out his hands, and grabbed both Draven's and the Friesian's cocks. He moved his head back-and-forth between the two throbbing horse phalluses, blowing both with equal vigor.

"I'm getting close, foal," groaned Draven. "I can't last as long as Rowdon!" And, with that, Draven started pouring semen from his broad, flat, cock head.

With his left hand still jacking off the Friesian, Axl opened his mouth wide, and let Draven's hot sticky cum pour into his mouth like thick, white syrup. Most of the semen splashed over the front of the little boy's body.

Once Draven moved away, another horse, a palomino, took his place. And Axl changed his position, so he was sitting on his knees.

Ten minutes later, the Friesian and the palomino came at the same time, both shooting their sticky spunk all over the small boy.

"It looks like someone dumped a gallon of white paint all over him!" Chance said with wide eyes. He looked down at the tent in his athletic shorts and covered it with his hand.

The last two centaurs approached Axl from either side and, like before the boy went to work sucking them.

Halfway through his impressive, blowjob session, Axl started moaning more loudly. He started bucking his hips as he sucked, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes rolled back slightly.

"Is the little foal cumming?" asked Rowdon from a couple feet away.

"Uh — uh," Axl tried to answer. "I — I'm…!" He groaned loudly as his little legs started to weaken beneath his knees. He fell into a sitting position and dropped the horse dicks he was holding. Axl moaned loudly, falling onto his back, as his baby cocklette throbbed wildly in the air.

As Axl writhed with pleasure on top of the haystack, one of the two centaurs standing over him began to cum. The giant horse cock started spraying spurt-after-spurt of syrupy jizz all over the orgasming little boy.

The last centaur remained. He stood over a now barely-conscious Axl, his angry dick so close to cumming that it was palpable.

With his eyes half-closed, Axl reached up with both hands and stroked the gigantic cock. Groaning, the little boy sat up slightly and began licking the head. Axl didn't have to suck for long — in less than a minute, the final load of centaur cum started flowing from its cock.

Axl opened his mouth once more. He swallowed what he could, while the rest of the cum poured over his cheeks, forehead, and chest.

As the last centaur walked away, Axl laid down on the haystack. He breathed heavily, then started to drift asleep.

Axl woke up only about fifteen minutes later. His body still doused in semen.

Jackson was standing next to Rowdon, discussing the plan to infiltrate El Dorado. Meanwhile, Chance and Wesley were conversing with the Friesian about the intricacies of centaur culture.

Chance ran over to Axl as he started to sit up.

"You must be exhausted!" He said, helping Axl stand. "That was amazing that you did all that!" In grabbing Axl's hand, Chance's palm was filled with still-warm semen as it dropped off the boy's body.
"Was it hard?" asked Wesley as he ran up to join Chance and Axl. "Sucking the dicks, not the dicks themselves. We know the dicks were hard."

"I've sucked a lot of Centaur cock before," said Axl, as he stretched.

"I hope Colt doesn't mind when he wakes up," said Wesley quietly.

Axl shook his head. "He'll only be bummed that he missed out on the fun," he commented. "Colt usually, um," he took a breath. "When we have three-ways with centaurs, I usually suck 'em, then they fuck Colt." He stood up, his bare feet curling in the desert sand. "Colt is half-centaur, so his body is built differently. He can take almost all of Rowdon up his ass. It's amazing!"

Chance stared at the glob of horse semen on his hand. He brought it up to his face and sniffed it. Tentatively, he opened his mouth.

Before Chance could put a cummy finger between his lips, Rowdon walked up behind him and placed a hand on Chance's shoulder.

Chance looked up at Rowdon.

"You're a virgin, right kid?" asked Rowdon.

Chance nodded. "Yeah."

Rowdon reached down and, using Axl's t-shirt as a rag, the thick semen from Chance's hand. "Your first time should be special. Don't waste your first taste on cum you didn't earn."

Jackson approached Wesley, Chance, Axl, and Rowdon. "How you feeling, Ax?"

Axl shrugged. "Tired."

"I'd imagine!" Jackson grinned. "Whenever you're up for it, we're ready to head to the coast."

Axl nodded.

"Axl, you're going to ride Rowdon," Jackson instructed. "I'm riding Sargent," he pointed to the chestnut Friesian. "Wesley, you're riding Striker," Jackson pointed to the palomino. "And Chance, you get Draven," he pointed to a black centaur with a white mane.

"Buck and Dagger are going to stay behind and watch the tent," explained Rowdon.

Axl walked over to his clothes, which — aside from his t-shirt — were still laying in a pile in the middle of the tent. Bending over, he slipped on his boots first.

"That's enough, little foul," said Rowdon, watching Axl. "I think I'd prefer it if you rode me bare."

Axl looked up. "What if we pass a caravan or something?" asked Axl.

"Then they'll get a good view," he reached down and playfully slapped Axl's ass. "I like my playthings naked." He grabbed Axl's clothes and tossed them to one of the other centaurs. "Keep an eye on these until we get back, Buck," he said.

Axl bit his lip and looked around at Jackson, Wesley, Chance, and the rest of the centaurs. Axl turned his head downward: His baby dicklette was getting hard again. He put a hand on one hip, then nodded to Rowdon.

Rowdon laid down in the sand. He let Axl climb onto his back before standing back up.

Chapter 17
Bull riding

"Are there girl centaurs?" Chance asked, about halfway through their ride through the desert. He was seated atop Draven's back, with his hands at his sides. "Well, um, I mean, I guess there have to be. Right? How else would you have babies?"

"Do you need something to hold on to?" Draven turned his head and looked over his shoulder at Chance.

"In the Mortal World, normally horses wear reins and saddles, 'n' stuff," Chance said.

"You ain't gonna put a saddle or a rein on me! I am no one's pet." Draven chuckled. "If you're more comfortable, you can slide forward and put your arms around me." He whinnied. "I don't bite."

Chance paused for a moment then scooted forward on the centaur until his chest pressed against the long white mane running down Draven's back. Chance loosely threw his arms around the centaur's neck like a child being given a piggyback ride. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," said Draven. "And, to answer your question from before: We do breed with human women too."

"I know. Colt is half-human," answered Chance. "But are there any girl centaurs?"

"The male and the female centaurs live pretty separate lives," answered Draven. "For as long as anyone can remember, the stallions lived in the Desert Hook, and the mares lived just south in a land called Thymerion. We used to meet twice a year for mating."

"Used to?" Chance looked to his left and right at the other boys and their centaurs.

Jackson, Wesley, and Axl had — like Chance — each scooted forward on their respective steed. Jackson and Wesley held Sargent and Striker around their waists. Axl held Rowdon around his pectorals — the boy's fingers intertwining with the Clydesdale's chest hair.

Chance looked forward again. He repositioned himself so that his palms rested on Draven's abdominals.

"Some time ago," Draven continued. "The President decimated the mares in battle. He took Thymerion and renamed it 'Kiakima.'"

"Is it one of the Seven Cities of Gold?" asked Chance.

"That's right. You're learning your Acaderian history, I see. Good job!" Draven patted Chance's hands, almost as if he was encouraging the boy to rub his muscular abs. "The surviving female centaurs migrated — mostly to join us in the Desert Hook. Still, though, only about…" Draven scoffed ". . . maybe three out of every ten centaurs is a mare now. Down from half."

"President Power killed that many?" Chance found himself gently rubbing the centaur's abdominals as he spoke.

"Yeah," Draven replied solemnly. "I'm hoping I survive long enough to see the Twelve Elements return." He looked back over his shoulder at Chance again. "All the gods in all the worlds working side by side ain't strong enough to stop the President. He is pure power."

"Only the Twelve Elements can?" asked Chance.

"They're the only beings strong enough." Draven exhaled sharply. "You like my abs, little boy?" asked the centaur.

"Um…" Chance gulped.

Draven laughed heartily. "Don't be ashamed." He turned his head and winked at Chance. "I'm not looking for anything serious right now. But, if you wanna come visit me after you save your friend from El Dorado, I'd be more than happy to give you a taste."

"I — I — " Chance stammered.

"All you human boys are so cute," said Draven. "Always embarrassed about your feelings."

"I don't know about all humans," Chance grumbled. "But, yeah, I guess I do."

It was early-to-mid afternoon when the Centaurs and the boys arrived at the coast. The desert had briefly faded into a lush field before turning into a sandy beach. The ocean waves lapped at an old dingy tied to a small wooden dock.

After Chance dismounted, Draven kneeled, messed up Chance's hair, and kissed his forehead discreetly. "Good luck!"

Chance hugged Draven's neck while the centaur was still kneeling. "Thanks for the ride."

"We'll wait here for you for one day," said Rowdon as Axl slid off his back. "I wish you four the best of luck. But this is a dangerous mission. And I won't have my men wait around for dead men."

"I'm not going to die!" shouted Axl placing his right hand on his chest defensively. He used his left hand to hide his immature dicklette. "I'm not going all the way into El Dorado."

"I know you'll be back, little foal." Rowdon winked. "You'll want more horse cock tomorrow."

Axl blushed.

"Move your hand," Rowdon ordered. "I wanna see your baby pizzle before you go."

Axl complied and crossed his arms over his chest. His little cocklette was hard again.

Rowdon knelt and reached down and pinched Axl's dickhead. "You better come back."

"I will." Axl nodded.

"Thank you again, Sargent," Jackson shook his steed's hand.

"See ya tomorrow, Striker," Wesley jumped up and gave the palomino a high five.

The four boys waved goodbye before piling into the boat, grabbing an oar, and rowing away.

Jackson turned to Axl as he rowed over the relatively calm waters. "How'd you get this boat?"

"I called in a favor from a merchant who lives an hour-or-two from here," Axl replied. "Sorry about the, y'know . ."

"The what?" asked Chance as he rowed his oar.

"The sex," Axl whispered.

"You're apologizing to us?" Wesley raised his eyebrows.

"If anything, we should be apologizing to you," Jackson asserted.

"I had a great time, you don't need to be sorry!" Axl laughed. "I just wasn't sure if the sex made you uncomfortable."

Wesley shook his head. "No way! We literally watched Milo get fucked by a nine-inch cock the other night."

"Wesley!" Jackson chided.

"What?" Wesley shrugged. "Do you really think Milo would care if Axl knew?"

Chance chuckled. "Milo would be proud."

"That's right!" Wesley asserted. He looked back to Axl. "Believe me: I liked watching you have sex. Those centaurs were sexy as fuck!"

"I second that!" Chance giggled.

"It was really hot," Jackson agreed. "Like really hot. All that cum!"

"Then you boys are in for a treat," said Axl.

The boys exited the dinghy onto a large stone beside a steep cliffside. Waves crashed violently against the jagged rocks sticking above the water.

Jackson used his hand to shield the sun from his eyes as he looked up toward the top of the cliff. "Do we have to climb that?"

"Nope," said Axl.

Among the sharp and pointed rocks, there were a handful of flat stones: six that led from the boys' boat to the very edge of the cliff.

Axl jumped from one flat rock to the next until he arrived at the cliffside. Jackson, Wesley, and Chance followed closely behind.

"How do we get up there, then, if we don't have to climb?" asked Chance.

Wesley looked around. "There's gotta be a staircase or something."

"You're not wrong." Axl stared at the cliffside for a brief moment. Then he placed his left hand on the rocky wall.

A golden glow seemed to shine from the limestone beneath Axl's palm. The light expanded, growing brighter. Then, a crack seemed to form in the cliffside. Amid some crumbling pebbles, a stony door archway appeared, revealing a dark cavern behind the rock.

Axl walked through the archway and motioned for the other boys to follow.

Finely-made cobblestone walls with golden mortar filled the interior of the cavern. Passageways, lined with torches, forked left, right, and center from where the boys entered. As Axl led the boys down one of the many corridors, it became all too clear that they were in a maze.

"Well, this maze is certainly a way to keep out trespassers," said Jackson.

"Where's your friend?" asked Chance.

"He's around here somewhere. He'll find us," said Axl. "After being in here for so long, Asterion eventually learned all the different routes."

"Asterion?" Wesley repeated.

"That's my friend's name," said Axl. "Asterion!" he called out into the maze.

"Asterion!?" Wesley repeated. "Were these caves designed by Daedalus!?"

Jackson stopped in his tracks and turned to Wesley. "What's wrong?"

"Does that name mean something?" asked Chance.

Wesley nodded with his mouth open wide. "This isn't a maze."

Jackson scrunched up his face, "Then what — ?"

" — It's a labyrinth," Wesley interjected waving his arms. "'Asterion' is from Greek mythology. It was the name of the…"

A low growl echoed through the halls of the cavern.

Wesley gulped. ". . . Minotaur."

The growl grew louder. A shadow cast by a flickering torch grew on the stone wall: A man's body and a giant horned head.

Quickly, Jackson reached down and pulled his fireplace pokers out of his belt loops.

Chance slid his bow off his back and withdrew an arrow from his quiver.

Wesley adjusted his brass knuckles and adopted a fighting stance.

"Will you three put your weapons down!?" Axl whispered. "I told you: Asterion is a friend."

"Didn't you read the legend?" Wesley whispered back. "He eats people!"

The beast emerged from around a corner. The orange glow of a flame lighting up his face. He was tall, with muscles bulging from every inch of his flesh. Thick brown hair ran across his bare chest, pooled at his crotch, and continued down his legs. His face was not a man's: it was a bull's, complete with curved horns and a thick gold ring piercing his nostrils. Despite the shadows of the labyrinth, it was clear that Asterion was naked and well-endowed.

"Don't believe everything you read," the creature groaned in a deep bellow.

Wesley, kept his fists raised, "The — Theseus — "

"Theseus was an attention whore, and Plutarch didn't care if what he wrote was true, as long as it was entertaining," The Minotaur walked past the other boys, stood in front of Wesley, looked down, and made eye contact. He didn't blink. "Now, put your fists down…or I will eat you."

Wesley gulped but kept his fists up. "I'd like to see you try."

"Wesley!" Jackson yelled. "Put your fists down!" He lowered his own weapons.

"Listen to him!" Chance echoed. "Don't be stupid."

The Minotaur just stared.

Wesley huffed, then slowly lowered his fists to his sides. He maintained eye contact.

Without looking away from Wesley, Asterion began speaking again. "Your friend is ballsy, Axl. Is he looking to get killed?"

"Well, he is on a suicide mission," Axl replied. "Sorry. He's just — they're from the Mortal World."

Asterion let out a bellowing howl that almost sounded like a laugh. "Wesley, is it?"

Wesley didn't reply.

"King Minos never sacrificed seven men and seven maids to me," said Asterion. "He made me guard them. Then he gifted them as slaves to the winner of the Cretan funeral games." He leaned down, his face now a few inches from Wesley's. "Theseus freed me from the labyrinth, then went on to brag about how he killed me."

"Why are you working for President Power?" Wesley asked.

"Because my life matters more to me than anyone else's." Asterion stood back up. "Why are you here, Axl? And why did you bring these children?"

"Like I said: They're on a suicide mission." Axl sighed. "A friend of theirs — a boy who saved my and Colt's life — was taken by Belial. We think he's being held — "

" — In the demon's compound?" the Minotaur interjected.

Axl nodded. "I offered to help them get through. It was the least I could do."

"I can lead them out of the labyrinth. But I'll need payment in advance." Asterion finally turned away from Wesley. He faced Axl and looked at the little boy's body up-and-down. "Already naked?"

Axl shrugged. "So are you." He raised his eyebrows.

"Then you're prepared to pay." The Minotaur moved closer to Axl. "Make it good, and I might do more than just lead you out."

"Oh, yeah?" Axl reached up and placed his little hand on the beast's chest. The hair glided through his fingers.

"I'll tell you the quickest way to Belial's compound," the Minotaur continued. "If you make it good."

"Don't I always?" Axl grinned.

Asterion knelt down as the boy threw his arms around the Minotaur's neck in a passionate embrace. Asterion grabbed Axl's bare ass, leaned forward and pressed his snout to the boy's lips.

Axl kissed the Minotaur right under his nose ring while the creature opened his mouth and stuck out his long, pink tongue.

Jackson, Wesley, and Chance's jaws collectively dropped as Axl parted his lips. They watched as Axl took the Minotaur's tongue into his mouth and began to fellate it like a penis.

Axl moaned as he and the beast began to wildly make out. The Minotaur licked the boy's face, and Axl kissed the skin and fur of Asterion's snout.

"I can't wait to get fucked," said Axl.

"Is that so?" Asterion dragged his tongue up Axl's smooth neck to the boy's cheek.

"Mm-hmm," Axl moaned in reply. "I sucked off a half-dozen centaurs today. But I'm too little to take their dicks."

"I can taste their cum on your skin, little faggot." Asterion squeezed Axl's butt. Then he pulled away and looked back at Jackson, Wesley, and Chance. "Are you three going to watch?"

"Uh…" Chance mumbled.

"I guess that's up to you two," Jackson offered.

The Minotaur looked at Wesley and released another howl-like laugh. "For a kid who was scared of me a minute ago, you are certainly aroused."

"Am not!" Wesley retorted.

Jackson walked over to Wesley and, without warning, shoved his hand down the front of Wesley's pants. "He's got a stiffy."

Chance giggled. "Who wouldn't!?"

"I like your friends, Axl," said Asterion. "Lube me up — we're going to put on a show for them."

"Yes, sir!" Axl sunk to his knees as Asterion stood up. He looked at the Minotaur's still flaccid member, leaned forward, and began licking the beast's hairy balls.

Asterion's cock started to grow, quickly reaching full mast as Axl's peppered it with kisses. It easily reached ten inches [25cm]. It was uncircumcised and relatively human in appearance. A large golden ring, like the one in his nose, pierced the skin where the Minotaur's scrotum met the base of his cock.

"This brings the word 'cock-ring' to a whole new level," joked Wesley and nudged Jackson.

Jackson giggled. "I think his dick is bigger than Tank's."

"It's definitely bigger than Tank's," said Chance. A tent was now clearly visible in his athletic shorts.

Axl opened his mouth wide and descended on the throbbing cock. His lips stretched to accommodate the monster. He quickly took half of the cock inside his eager orifice.

The little boy bobbed his head up-and-down on the Minotaur's phallus. Axl reached around and placed both his hands on Asterion's hairy ass cheeks, kneading them as he fellated the muscular creature.

"You gonna take it all?" Asterion asked, spreading his legs slightly.

"Mm-hmm," Axl moaned. He pulled Asterion closer while, at the same time, he thrust his head forward. He gagged slightly when the head of the cock moved into his throat.

Axl stopped pushing…but Asterion did not.

The Minotaur grabbed the back of Axl's head, pulled it in, and bucked his hips.

Axl's nose was now buried in the Minotaur's wiry and almost fur-like pubic hair.

"That's what I'm talking about, whore," Asterion growled. "Show me how much you love to suck cock, big, bull cock!"

Axl moaned, his voice muffled in his full mouth. Saliva dripped from the corners of his lips pulled-taut and down his chin. He gagged slightly as the cock assaulted the back of his throat.

Asterion did not let up: The minotaur's actions started to become more violent. He began forcefully face-fucking the child. Asterion pulled Axl's head in close, flattening the boy's nose against his pelvis; then he roughly tugged back so just the head of his dick rested on Axl's tongue. The minotaur did this repeatedly — over and over as bubbling spit splashed out of Axl's mouth in a mess of gurgling.

All the while, Axl's little dicklette throbbed, bouncing up-and-down.

Chance leaned toward Jackson and whispered, "Who likes it more, Axl or Asterion?"

"I can't tell," Jackson replied, his eyes wide.

"The little faggot loves every inch of this monster cock!" Asterion roared. "Baby bitch is gonna cum before I do!" He turned his head toward Jackson, Wesley, and Chance, then winked. With one finger pointed directly at Wesley, Asterion continued: "If you survive saving your friend, Wesley, feel free to come get a taste of this sweaty bull's balls."

Wesley gulped and blushed simultaneously then grinned broadly.

Jacked gently elbowed Wesley's side. "You gonna take him up on the offer?" he whispered.

"Shut up!" Wesley grumbled and stuck out his tongue.

Wesley and Jackson's conversation was cut short by a loud moan. Axl reached down between his legs while the giant minotaur penis was assaulting his throat. He worked two fingers in between his pert ass cheeks and had begun drilling into his tiny hole, sighing loudly and pleasurably.

Asterion pulled Axl off his cock, knelt down, grabbed the boy under his armpits, and hoisted him into the air like a rag doll. All the while, Axl's two fingers remained inside his hole.

Axl struggled to catch his breath in between gulps of lingering precum. "That was amazing," he said breathily. The boy ceased fingering himself and threw his arms around Asterion's neck and his legs around the bull's chest in a passionate embrace. "Please fuck me."

"Fuck you?" Asterion swiped his long tongue along the side of Axl's little, blushing face.

"Fuck me hard," Axl said. "Please!"

"You want my big bull cock, little fag boy?" Asterion knelt down and laid Axl's back on the cold, stone floor. "You want this giant, monster dick up your baby boy butt?"

"Please!" Axl begged, his voice now scratchy. "I need it! I need your big, hairy cock inside me!" He reached down, grabbed his ass cheeks, and pulled them apart lifting his legs up high. Axl was ready to be fucked in the missionary position.

Asterion laughed deeply: a chuckle that could've been a devious moan. He placed the tip of his ten-inch, uncircumcised dick at Axl's pink, flower-like entrance. "You ready, slut?"

"Uh-huh!" Axl replied, biting his lower lip and bracing himself.

Without further warning, Asterion pushed. He did not ease his cock into the boy; he forced the whole thing in, down to the base, in one, forceful thrust.

"Ah!" Axl shouted. "Oh my gods!"

Lacking any abandon, Asterion humped Axl's little ass. His giant balls bounced on the boy's upturned, muscular cheeks. "Take it you little faggot!" He groaned, his pace quickening rapidly. "This is what you like, isn't it? Being a little piece of meat for men."

"Uh-uh-uh," Axl made little, high-pitched moans each time Asterion's balls slapped against him. "Uh-huh! I–I'm a p–piece of meat," he repeated. "Fuck me."

Asterion laughed once more, and continued his onslaught: he savaged the little, tanned ass. The minotaur reached upwards and used his callous hands to pin the boy's shoulder to the stone floor. Drool poured from his bull head splashing from Axl's face to his chest. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for a month, you little fucking bitch!"

"A m–month — Aaah!" Little Axl threw his arms around Asterion's neck and tightened his hold on the beast as he released an orgasmic shout. His body rocked back and forth, his muscles alternately tightening and relaxing with each of the minotaur's thrusts. His toes curled, his eyes rolled back, his breathing quickened, and his tiny dicklette throbbed, bobbing up-and-down. "Aah!" Axl continued moaning.

"That's right little fuck, here it comes!" Asterion swiftly pulled his giant cock from Axl's used and reddened hole. He grabbed one of Axl's little hands and wrapped it around the shaft of his monster phallus — Axl's finger's didn't even wrap the full way around the dick. Asterion started blasting thick, creamy, yellowish-white semen. It splashed all over the tiny boy, washing him in a sea of cum, as the minotaur's cock slowly but deflated to a still-commanding, seven-inch, flaccid state.

Asterion slapped Axl's ass as the boy readjusted his position, closed his eyes, and began napping on the hard, stone floor of the labyrinth.

"That was amazing," Axl sighed right before a yawn.

Chapter 18
The demon's fortress

About fifteen minutes later, with his eyes still heavy, Axl awoke, sitting up against the cold, rocky wall. A few meters away, Jackson was talking to Asterion with Wesley a few feet behind.

Chance walked over and sat beside Axl. He began gently rubbing the naked boy's back. "How're you feeling?"

Axl exhaled loudly. "Fantastic!" His exclamation was whispered and breathy. "With everything that's happened over the past day, I really needed that."

Chance chuckled. "It looked like it hurt."

Axl shrugged. "It sort of does. But, it's like a good hurt — I can't explain it well. Like a bear hug, or when someone kneads your muscles during a massage." His voice creaked and cried. "It hurts but it's just so good."

Chance nodded.

"I'm glad you guys are cool about me getting fucked," said Axl. "I–I would've done it no matter what, because I know how important saving Milo is to you three. But, it helps that you don't tease me."

"Why would we tease you?" asked Chance. "We're all gay too. Virgins. But totally gay virgins."

"For being a bottom. Or for, y'know." Axl pointed to his cocklette and began whispering, "being small."

Chance giggled. "If anything you're bigger than I am!"

Axl laughed too. "Well, the men in Acadie are notoriously well-endowed."

"Really?"

"Something about the magic here," explained Axl. "The mystical atmosphere here sort of makes men bigger. I'm not sure how it works." He shrugged. "Nine — maybe ten inches is about average in Acadie."

Chance's eyes widened. "I think like six inches is normal in the Mortal World." He stood up, and reached down to help Axl to his feet.

"But that magic doesn't usually kick in until a man is fully grown," said Axl. "That's why I got this little thing." He poked the head of his now soft dicklette.

About ten feet away, Jackson, was reaching out and confidently shaking Asterion's hand. "Thank you." He smiled and withdrew his hand.

After a brief pause, Wesley quickly followed suit and shook the Minotaur's hairy and muscular paw. Swiftly he pulled away and began walking toward Axl and Chance.

Jackson groaned, rolled his eyes, and looked up at Asterion apologetically before following Wesley toward the other two boys. "How're you feeling, Axl?"

Axl shrugged and nodded simultaneously. "Pretty good."

"Asterion said he'll lead us to the exit of the labyrinth," began Jackson. "And, he said that he'll make sure we — "

"Say it how I told you to say it, little boy!" Asterion shouted as he walked toward the boys with heavy steps on the stone floor. "Exactly how I told you to say it."

Jackson cleared his throat and began reciting, "Asterion is going to show us the quickest way to Belial's compound because you're a 'sexy, little, baby slut-boy.'" Jackson raised his eyebrows and looked back at Asterion.

Asterion groaned a gravelly sigh as he walked toward the collection of boys. As he approached, he slid his hand over Wesley's shoulder and down his chest.

Wesley swiftly pulled himself from Asterion's grip and inched toward Jackson, Chance, and Axl.

Asterion rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. "Follow me before I change my mind."

It took the boys and Asterion about half an hour to navigate through all the twists and turns of the labyrinth. Eventually, though, they arrived at a dead end punctuated by a golden door.

"Is this the exit?" asked Chance. He approached the door, his reflection mirrored back at him in gold.

"This is one of the exits," answered Asterion. "There are a couple more."

"But this one takes us to Belial's fortress, right?" Wesley asked the Minotaur while standing behind Jackson.

Asterion chuckled. "If I remember correctly, there are a series of tunnels beneath the demon's compound, but none of them lead to the labyrinth." He shook his head. "No, this door leads you to the very center of El Dorado."

"The center?" repeated Jackson. "The center of the region controlled by Power? Isn't that dangerous."

"Like I said before," began Axl, "this is a suicide mission." He leaned up against the wall and shrugged.

Jackson exhaled sharply. "Well, we're doing it anyway — for Milo's sake." He bit his lower lip and paused. "How far are we from Belial's compound?"

"Not too far," replied Asterion. "It's the second-largest building. You'll see it."

"The second-largest?" asked Chance. "What's in the largest building?"

"The President," Axl raised his eyebrows.

"Doesn't surprise me," commented Wesley.

Jackson stepped forward and placed his hand on the gilded doorknob. "Are we ready, boys?"

"Good luck," said Axl. "You'll need it."

"If you survive, and you want to come back through this doorway, I'll lead you back," said Asterion.

"Thank you," said Chance, looking back at Axl and the Minotaur.

Jackson eased the door open.

The door opened in the craggy, vertical wall of a cliffside. Once Jackson, Wesley, and Chance had stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind them, the doorway and cliffside descended into the dirt and disappeared.

Before the boys now was a paved roadway, and beyond that a series of small buildings and parking lots. Each structure was made out of yellowish brick plastered together with golden mortar. Upon each building was a sign emblazoned with a name: "El Dorado Finance," "Pride Bank," "Authority Investments," and so on. There seemed to be an unusually high number of hornet nests dotting the rocky landscapes.

"It — " Wesley cut himself off. " — It looks like an industrial park."

"A what?" asked Chance as a large, yellow-and-black insect buzzed toward him.

"Basically, buildings rented to businesses," answered Wesley. "Like an outdoor mall. But instead of stores selling clothes or toys or whatever, these companies are all selling, like, services and shit."

Chance started swatting at the bug.

Wesley reached out and grabbed Chance's hand. "Walk away slowly."

"What?" asked Jackson as he began walking away from the hornet, pulling Chance with him by the shirt.

"I'm no entomologist, but that looks like a Japanese giant hornet," explained Wesley. "They're extremely aggressive. Their venom attacks the nervous system, they can shoot it without stinging you, and it will attract their hive-mates. Hive-mates who are just as aggressive and will attack en masse for shit and giggles."

The boys all backed away slowly, until the hornet had buzzed away in another direction.

Jackson pointed beyond the industrial park to a canyon. "See that?"

In the center of the canyon was a tall pillar with a flat top. And, standing atop the pillar was a shining, golden skyscraper, glowing in front of a polluted, yellowish sky. Along the side of that tower were five giant letters reading: "POWER."

"I don't see any bridges or anything," continued Jackson.

"I wonder how people get in and out," said Chance.

"Maybe there's a doorway at the bottom of the pillar or something," Wesley stepped forward and furrowed his brow. "But I don't think we have to worry about that right now." He turned around and looked to C Chance gulped hance. "I'm fairly certain that's the President's headquarters."

Jackson nodded. "No doubt." He stepped back and began slowly turning around. "There," he stopped, pointing toward a high-rise situated on the edge of the cliff right before it fell away into the canyon. While it topped off at about twenty stories, it wasn't nearly as tall as the President's skyscraper.

"Do we have a plan?" asked Chance.

Jackson nodded. "Get to Belial's fortress as soon as possible, before anyone comes out of the industrial park and stops us." He began walking down a sidewalk toward the high-rise.

"What about when we get into the compound?" Wesley started following Jackson.

"Well," began Jackson. "I'd wager that Belial has security. Probably lots of it."

"Axl did say this was suicidal," commented Chance, running to catch up with Jackson and Wesley who had begun walking more quickly.

"Exactly," said Jackson. "So, we need to move fast. And we're going to move one after the other as a team." He turned his head. "Chance, you're sort of the key player here." Jackson pointed to the quiver strapped to Chance's back. "I need you to shoot anyone coming at us, either in front of us or behind." He looked to Wesley, "I need you to protect Chance — if anyone gets close, you have to take him out. Keep Chance's line of sight clear. Jackson cleared his throat. "I'm going to keep the perimeter around us. I have a little more reach with my 'swords,' so I'll mostly stay in front and lead the way."

"So I'll stay mostly behind Chance, then," interjected Wesley.

"Good thinking." Jackson nodded. "When we get in the building, our first goal is going to be figuring out where Milo is being held. Then, we find him, free him, and get out."

"Shouldn't we have building plans or something." Chance gulped. "And like — I dunno — steal name tags off of security guards or something? Get passcodes or whatever, like in the movies?"

"Ideally, I guess," answered Wesley. "But I don't think we really have time for that. We're kinda wingin' this."

Jackson nodded in agreement. "If we can't sneak our way in, then our next-best option is brute force. Plus," continued Jackson, "we're going to be really suspicious walking in there with weapons." He reached down and tapped the fireplace pokers hooked into his belt loops. "Even if they aren't real weapons."

As the boys closed the distance to Belial's fortress, an SUV appeared driving down the otherwise deserted roadway, crunching asphalt beneath its tires.

Wesley turned his head as the vehicle approached. "There's a car on our six, Jackson," he said softly.

"Act like you don't notice it," instructed Jackson. "Just keep walking. Don't draw attention to us."

The SUV came to a stop alongside the sidewalk. Its engine turned off and its driver's-side door opened. A man stepped out of the car and walked around it toward the boys.

"That's one of Belial's men: I recognize him from the House of Wisdom." whispered Chance.

"Same gold tie," said Wesley.

"Get ready, boys." Jackson said, glancing over at the Agent. "On my signal, Chance shoots an arrow and we run to the building."

Chance nodded, and adjusted his grip on the bow.

"Hey!" shouted the Agent, as he stepped closer to the boys. "Do I know you? Is there something I can help you with?" his voice was heavy with suspicion. "What company do you three work for?"

Jackson stopped in his tracks, and pivoted on his heel toward the Agent. "Hi," said Jackson politely, now walking in reverse, keeping pace with Wesley and Chance. "We work for, um, the bank."

"Which one?" asked the Agent.

"The Shoot Him Bank," replied Jackson.

"'Shoot Him' — ?" the Agent's question was promptly cut off by a whoosh and a thwack as one of Chance's struck the Agent in the shoulder.

"RUN!" shouted Jackson.

Chance and Jackson sprinted down the sidewalk toward the compound at the edge of the cliff. Wesley, though, ran back toward the Agent.

"What the fuck are you doing, Wes?!" Jackson yelled.

With a tight grip on his knuckleduster, Wesley punched the Agent in the jaw. Before the man could recover, Wesley roughly ripped Chance's arrow from his shoulder. He kicked the man, turned around, and ran back toward the other two at top speed.

Wesley caught up to them a few seconds later and tossed the bloody arrow to Chance. "I figured we'd need the ammo."

Chance caught the arrow, fumbling a little bit. An uncomfortable grimace appeared on his face as blood dripped over his small fingers. Chance quickly thrust the arrow back into his quiver and returned to running toward Belial's compound.

"Don't do that again, Wesley," Jackson reprimanded. "We need to all be on the same page."

"Fine," said Wesley. "Fine. Fine," he echoed. "Sorry."

The Agent groaned, sat up, and pressed a small device in his ear. "We have three intruders. Approximately eleven-to-twelve years old. They are armed. Repeat: they are armed and headed toward the General's Compound."

The boys ran through the front, revolving glass doors of the high-rise into a grand and gilded lobby. In the center of the lobby was a reception desk staffed by three guards in khaki and gold colored security uniforms.

Jackson motioned toward Chance, glared at Wesley, and walked — as calmly he could — toward the front desk. Wesley and Chance followed in tow.

"Hi," said Jackson politely, if a little out-of-breath. "We're looking for the prison. Can you point us in the right direction?

"Just come out and ask for it, why don't you," Wesley scoffed under his breath.

"The prison?" replied one security guard. "What the — ?"

Before he could finish his sentence, a crackled voice blared over the radio. "Chkzkh — Be on the lookout for three armed intruders. Over. — Chkzkh"

Without hesitation, Wesley launched himself across the reception desk. He kicked forward and landed on one of the security guards. He rolled to a standing position, stomped his foot onto the guard's chest, and ducked as a second guard swung a baton.

Jackson jumped onto the desk and withdrew both the fireplace pokers from his belt loops. He struck the guard with the baton on the side of his head with the sharp end of the poker, causing the guard to fumble backwards and fall flat on the ground. Jackson flipped off the desk and landed on the floored guard's crotch.

"Guys…" shouted Chance, pointing toward the revolving doors.

What appeared to be a large SWAT-like van pulled up in front of the building.

Chance readied an arrow in his bow, and aimed it at the revolving doors.

Wesley pushed aside a rolling chair behind the desk and knelt down to look at a series of buttons. He slammed his fist down on a big gold button, and the revolving doors locked. He grinned. "That was a good guess."

Jackson stabbed his poker downward twice, piercing the shoulder of two of the fallen guards before running at the third, and final security officer.

Wesley shifted his attention from the buttons to the monitor. "They have security cameras," he announced. Wesley pressed a button on the screen, and began scrolling through grainy, black-and-white frames of different rooms throughout the building. He saw what looked like a boardroom, then another. He saw offices, vaults, elevators, and yet more boardrooms. There were bathrooms, and even a few impeccably decorated bedrooms. Finally, he saw a series of cages on the monitor; the code "B-5, West" was written at the bottom of the screen. "The lockup is in the western half of the fifth-level of the basement," Wesley announced.

"Guys…!" Chance repeated as the swat officers pulled a battering ram out from the van.

"Boys, let's find the stairs and get down to the basement," announced Jackson.

"There's an elevator over there," said Wesley, pointing toward a back wall as he stood up from the desk.

"No — we don't want to get into anything that they can shut off remotely," said Jackson. "Find some stairs."

The boys ran down a corridor off to the side of the main lobby, and began pulling on every doorknob they could find. Oddly, none of the doors were locked; most of them opened into offices or restrooms.

Finally, Chance opened a door to a stairwell. The boys piled inside and shut the door behind them moments before the SWAT team burst through the revolving doors with the battering ram.

Wesley almost flew down the stairs, counting each level as they descended. The fifth level of the basement appeared to be at the very bottom. He waited at the stairwell's exit for Jackson and Chance. "I found the door to the bottom level."

"Do you hear that?" asked Chance, as he ran down the stairs.

There was an audible hum in the distance.

Jackson stopped, and held up his finger to signal quiet. He held his other hand to his ear as the humming got louder. "Run!"

"What?" said Chance.

"Hornets!" Jackson shouted. He skipped steps as he made his way lower and lower.

Chance ran down the staircase, the buzzing of the hornets right behind him.

The three boys gathered at the doorway exiting the stairwell. While its doorknob turned with ease, it proved particularly heavy: all three boys had to push it as one to open it.

Once inside, the three boys slammed the door shut behind them just moments before a swarm of hornets slammed into the other side.

Chance sighed loudly. "That was close."

Chapter 19
Prisoners

The basement was dank. It was a mass of hallways with walls made of the yellowish brick.

"Where do you think Milo is?" asked Wesley, as he walked down a corridor.

Jackson paused then exhaled. He took a deep breath and yelled, "Milo!". His voice echoed back at him from the hallways. "Milo Hester-Morgan!"

"J-Jackson?" came a weak shout from a distance.

"Milo!" replied Chance as he ran down a corridor, following the voice.

"Marco!" yelled Wesley.

"Polo!" came Milo's voice after a short pause.

Jackson, Wesley, and Chance turned right at the end of the hallway and followed the sound of Milo's voice.

"Marco!" yelled Wesley again.

"POLO!" came a collection of voices.

Wesley stopped dead in his tracks. "That was more than one person yelling back," his voice cracked.

"There might be more than one prisoner," answered Jackson. "Come on."

"Marco!" yelled Chance.

"Polo!" came the voices again, this time louder.

The boys took the left turn at a fork in the corridor. At the end of this hallway was a vault-like door.

"That's it!" shouted Jackson, pointing at the door. He ran toward it and reached for the large, circular handle on the door. He tugged on the spoked dial. "It's not locked, but it's heavy!" he said. "We have to hurry. I'm sure it won't be long before the SWAT team catches up with us."

Wesley and Chance joined Jackson in tugging on the dial. All three boys, with all their strength, tugged and tugged on the handle. After a minute of pulling, they finally spun the wheel and the vault swung open.

"I'm going to have blisters because of that," said Wesley quietly as he walked over the threshold and into the room.

A series of cages lined the wall: they looked like large dog crates. It was difficult to see inside the cages because of the dim lighting in the room.

"This!" exclaimed Wesley. "This is what I saw on the security monitor. This is the prison."

Chance walked up to one of the crates and looked inside. "Milo?" he asked.

Someone moved inside the cage, crawling toward its gate. It was small, and certainly boy-like. But it wasn't Milo.

"I'm over here!" Came Milo's weakened voice from the other side of the room.

While Jackson and Wesley ran toward Milo's voice, Chance stayed looking into the cage. The creature that crawled toward him looked sickly and withered: but it was clearly a boy. "W-water," he said softly followed by a cough. The child was naked. His features and skin-tone indicated that he might be Polynesian, but his hair was a bright blue. Likewise, his legs were covered in iridescent, cerulean scales. "P-please," he choked out.

Chance knelt down on the ground to look at the door of the cage. There was a large padlock on the gate which itself looked rather heavy.

Chance reached first for the lock and began examining it. Strangely, the padlock fell off the cage by itself as Chance lifted it.

Grinning, Chance threw the lock to the ground. He grabbed the door of the crate and tugged. "I'll be right back," he whispered to the sickly boy inside. "Let me get my friends to help me open it."

With vigor, Chance jumped up and ran to Wesley and Jackson. "There's another boy in a cage over there, he looks — "

" — There are boys in all these cages," interjected Jackson.

"Thirteen of them, altogether," said Wesley.

"Are you going to let me out or not!?" Shouted Milo from inside the cage.

"Sorry," said Jackson. "I — I just wasn't expecting this." He stood in front of the cage. "There's not even a lock on this one." He grabbed and tried to raise the door. "This is way too heavy though," Jackson turned his head and looked to Wesley and Chance. "Lift together, on three."

"Yī…èr…sān!" counted Milo as the other three boys raised the door to his cage. With a metallic scraping sound, they managed to raise the heavy door to open the cage. Naked, Milo crawled weakly out of the cage.

Wesley knelt down and helped Milo to stand. "Are you okay?"

Milo struggled to balance on his feet. "I knew you guys would come get me," he said, his eyes watering. "I knew it. I told everyone here you guys would save me."

Without a second thought, Wesley hugged Milo tightly and kissed his lips chastely. "You're alive," he said with joy.

"I knew you'd still be alive," said Chance, reaching over to join Wesley in his hugging of Milo. He too kissed Milo on the lips. "We missed you."

Jackson joined the group hug, "We kiss now…deal with it." He smooched Milo's pink lips. "I knew you'd make it. You're strong and resilient."

Milo coughed. "I love you guys."

A stampede of footsteps could be heard in the distance, quickly getting louder.

"Shit!" exclaimed Wesley. "They're still coming."

"I think there's another way out, over there," said Milo, pointing toward the back.

Wesley and Jackson started heading toward the door.

"Wait!" shouted Chance. "The rest of the cages."

"You're right," said Jackson after a short pause. "Come on, Wes. Let's get the rest of them out."

Starting at the next cage, Jackson, Wesley, and Chance tugged open the door. Without helping the prisoner out of the cage, the boys moved to the next cage.

Like before, when Chance had examined the padlock on the first cage, this lock also seemed to come undone at Wesley's touch. The boys tossed the padlock to the ground and together lifted the gate open while Wesley counted, "Yī…èr…sān!"

The three boys moved to the next crate. And, again, Jackson discovered a faulty lock on the door. The boys together lifted the cage door in unison.

The footsteps kept getting closer. The boys rushed to open all the cages. In no time — not counting Milo's — they had opened the doors of the twelve occupied crates.

Twelve small, naked boys crawled out of their respective cells. Each looked strange in his own way: clearly not fully human.

"They're all half-breeds," said Milo.

Wesley nodded. "I figured."

Jackson ran to a cage and jumped on top of it. "Listen, everyone," he said, as loudly as he could. "There's a team of officers running down here trying to get to us. If we can get out of here alive, we have a friend on the outside who can smuggle us out. I know you're all probably weak from being in those cages, but we need to move quickly." He cleared his throat and pointed to Chance. "Chance, I want you at the back, shoot any SWAT guy who gets close." He pointed next to Wesley. "Wes, at the front. You're the strongest: open any doors in our way." He looked to Milo. "Milo, I know you're not in top form, but I need you to help me keep all the boys together. Make sure no one falls behind." He looked to the group. "Are we clear?"

"Hell, yes," said Wesley without missing a beat as everyone else quietly took their instructed positions and headed toward the door at the back of the prison.

Sixteen boys found themselves heading down a maze-like series of corridors — struggling but moving as fast as their little legs would carry them. The hallways seemed to descend lower and lower into the earth as the boys continued.

"This can't be the way out," said Milo.

"The exit was on the ground level," said Wesley. "We have to be at least seven levels below that by now."

"Jackson, I can hear their footsteps," said Chance. "They're closing in!"

"We can't turn back now," announced Jackson. "Hopefully we can find a way to double back without getting caught. Maybe these tunnels loop back around or something."

"They're here," said Chance.

A series of guards in heavy armor appeared at the end of the tunnel, behind the boys. Each seemed to be brandishing a large firearm.

"Wesley!" shouted Jackson as he ran back to Chance. "Keep the group moving forward. Find a way out! I'm going to help Chance."

Chance started loosing arrows as fast as he could. He struck one guard in the palm, and another in his thigh. His arrows hit another man in the shoulder just as he pulled the trigger on his rifle, causing him to jerk back and shoot upwards instead of forward at the group of boys.

"Aim for their hands," said Jackson, as he pulled the fireplace pokers from his belt loops and ran at the group of men.

"Jackson!" Chance yelled. He started shooting all of his arrows as quickly as they would leave his bow, careful to not hit Jackson.

Jackson, without any hesitation, ran toward the bunch of men and started striking them and stabbing them with his makeshift swords.

A group of guards surrounded Jackson. One man struck him with a baton. Another, with a bleeding hand, aimed a rifle at him.

BANG!

A bullet struck Jackson's upper arm, right below his left shoulder.

"Ow!" Jackson yelled out in shock as blood began pumping from his muscle, thick and red. "Ow, ow. Owwwww!" He cried.

A guard grabbed Jackson from behind and pinned him up against the brick wall of the tunnel. The guard with the bleeding hand lifted his rifle again, and aimed it point blank at Jackson's head.

There was a small ticking noise, as the guard tugged on his finger but found it blocked. An arrow had slid behind the rifle's trigger blocking the guard from firing.

Jackson swung his fireplace poker, and hit a guard directly in the gut. He kicked backwards, striking another guard in the crotch. Swinging his right, arm as quickly as he could.

"I found a door!" shouted Wesley.

Chance ran toward the group of guards, shooting off his final two arrows, striking two men: one in his armpit, another in his thigh. Chance grabbed Jackson's uninjured arm and tugged him as fast as he could.

The two boys ran toward the rest of the group, bullets striking the brick walls of the corridors around them.

As the full group of boys turned the corner, they saw a wooden door with an intricate bronze symbol carved into its center at the end of the tunnel. It looked very much like one of the gateways in the Nexus of Doors.

"They're almost here!" shouted Chance. "Jackson's shot! Open the door!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Wesley dodged ahead of the rest of the group, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled.

A bright gold light emanated from the threshold, and shot out like a blast of energy. The tunnels started shaking, as if it the ground beneath them had been hit by a sudden earthquake. Bricks and debris started falling off the walls.

"Quick!" shouted Wesley. "Everyone get inside!"

Wesley held the door open as the collection of a dozen boys piled through the threshold. Milo followed the half-breed boys and nodded to Wesley as he made his way through the doorway.

Chance, practically carrying a barely conscious and profusely bleeding Jackson dragged himself down the hallway. Debris fell on their heads, and a fast moving team of guards followed close behind them.

Wesley abandoned his place at the door, and ran toward Chance and Jackson. Carefully avoiding Jackson's left arm, Wesley knelt down and picked up Jackson's feet.

With Chance carrying Jackson's torso, and Wesley lifting his legs, the boys ran as quickly as they could towards the doorway,

Jackson, Wesley, and Chance made it through the threshold just as rubble finished falling from the ceiling of the tunnel. The bricks tumbled over one another, flowing behind the boys like lava. The debris stopped rolling shortly after making its way through the doorway, and mere inches from where the sixteen had collapsed.

Rubbing dust from his eyes, Chance looked upward to see a glimmering expanse of a starry sky above him. He looked around to see more wooden gateways. They were back in the Nexus of Doors.

Chapter 20
Magic and the crossroads

The groaning of sixteen injured young boys punctuated shouting as the vault-like entrance to the Nexus of Doors burst open.

"Get the bosses!" shouted a guard. "Now!"

Chance coughed and lifted himself up slightly. Rubble surrounded him dirt, dust and debris. He kicked a stone and a spray of grungy powder plumed into the air. "Jackson?" He asked his eyes widening. Chance turned to the side to see his friend still bleeding profusely from the shoulder.

"Jackson!?" Wesley shouted, and sat up in another puff of dirt. He held a hand over Jackson's bullet wound and pressed. "Stay awake Jackson. Stay with me! We're going to get you help."

A guard ran over and knelt beside Wesley, Chance, and Jackson. "What happened?"

"H-he — " Chance sputtered.

"He was shot," said Wesley. "Some SWAT guy from El Dorado."

"We need to get him to the infirmary," replied the guard.

"Who are these children!?" came Kokou's deep and booming voice as he pushed his way into the Nexus. "Who are these children, and how did they get here!?"

Athena followed close behind Kokou. Her eyes shot open wide, and she clasped a hand over her open mouth. "The door to El Dorado," she spoke quietly, as if in a state of shock.

Athena turned to the guards. "Get Legba and Hecate now! This is high priority!"

Kokou turned to the goddess. "Athena, do you realize — ?"

" — Of course I realize what this means, Kokou!" she spoke over him. "Why do you think I asked for Legba and Hecate?"

Kokou cleared his throat. "Do you think that the President — ?"

Athena held up her hand and shook her head. "No, I do not." She turned to look Kokou directly in the eyes, then pointed to Jackson, Wesley, and Chance. "I was right."

More soldiers rushed into the room. Among them were Perseus, Gilgamesh, Toki, and Sun Wukong, one after the other.

Milo rushed to Jackson's side, and knelt next to Wesley.

"Keep putting pressure on the wound," said Wesley as he showed Milo how he was holding his palm firmly over Jackson's bleeding shoulder.

"I — ?" Milo coughed.

"Just do it," pleaded Wesley, before reaching up, and grabbing Milo's wrists with his own, blood-stained hands. He placed Milo's hands firmly over Jackson's wound. "Just keep them there."

Wesley stood up, kicking small stones from his path. He ran toward the crowd of adults that had entered the room, singling out Gilgamesh and Perseus. "We need a doctor," he said swiftly. "All these boys need a doctor," he pointed to twelve naked kids laying on the floor in various states of distress. "But Jackson needs one now. He's really hurt."

"Perseus," shouted Athena as she walked toward Wesley. "Get Jackson to the infirmary. Run." She shouted. "Make him your top priority right now. I'll explain later."

"Of course, Your Worship," Perseus ran toward Jackson, Chance, and Milo.

"You have to keep pressure on the wound," Milo echoed as Perseus lifted a barely-conscious Jackson from the floor.

"Wukong, Toki," Athena continued, calling her generals to her side. "Toki, get Chance to the infirmary, make him your priority. Gilgamesh, same, but bring Wesley to the infirmary." She turned and looked at the rest of the injured children. "Sun Wukong. Coordinate with the soldiers. I need the debris cleared from the door to El Dorado, and I need the rest of the children in the infirmary." She cleared her throat. "Right now our priority is Jackson, cause he's the most seriously injured. Then Wesley and Chance. Then clearing the debris. Then the rest of the boys. Do you understand!?"

Without a word, the generals split and began performing their assigned tasks.

Toki ran to Chance and lifted the boy from the ground, "Come on, Chance. We got to get you looked at," he said, hoisting the boy upwards in his arms.

"You, you, and you, start moving this rubble," ordered Sun Wukong, pointing at a group of soldiers. "I need all this debris cleared in the next minute!"

Gilgamesh reached down and began lifting Wesley off the floor.

Wesley pushed back against Gilgamesh momentarily and looked to Athena. "What's going on?"

"I will explain everything later," said Athena. "But I need you in the infirmary now."

"I'm not even hurt," Wesley argued. He coughed. "I'm not hurt badly, anyway," he corrected. "Those other kids need a doctor more than me. They've been locked in cages for who knows how long!"

"You are more important right now," Athena insisted. "And they'll all get help. But I need you in the infirmary now."

Giglamesh lifted Wesley off the ground before he could say another word.

Just then, the sound of dogs barking loudly filled the Nexus. Two more people entered the room, flanked by a small team of guards and a dozen, or so, wild-looking dogs. The first was a middle-aged, Mediterranean woman wearing a flowing, pale-colored toga and a spiked crown. Beside her was an old, black man, in wide-brimmed, straw hat; he walked with a cane, and a pipe hung from his mouth.

Wesley's did not take his eyes off these two individuals. His eyes were frozen as he was carried out of the room by Gilgamesh.

Jackson groggily opened his eyes and groaned.

"Jackson?" Chance said softly. "Jackson!" He chuckled. "Wesley, Milo: Jackson's awake!"

"W-where…" Jackson slowly tried to push himself up. "What happened?"

Jackson was lying in a wooden bed, in a brightly-lit, stone room. An old-fashioned, glass intravenous canister hung on a pole next to his bed, but there was no IV tube attached to Jackson. A window shone bright light onto a bedside table next to him, upon which his glasses were laying. There were three other beds in the room.

"Don't get up just yet, you might still be weak." Wesley, wearing a hospital gown, put down a book, hopped out of one of the other beds and walked gingerly to Jackson's bedside.

"I feel fine," countered Jackson, through a yawn. He stretched, and turned his head. "Where are we?"

"We're back in the Forest Primeval. We're in the infirmary," answered Chance, who was wearing a hospital gown identical to Wesley's. He was sitting on a wooden chair next to Jackson's bed. "Wesley, Milo, and I weren't really hurt that bad, but we wanted to stay until you were awake."

"They gave you guys a private room," said Milo as he approached Jackson's bedside. Milo too, was wearing a hospital gown. However, Milo wore his backwards, and left the straps untied, leaving the front of his naked body completely on display. "I was out there with the rest of the kids. I had to fight my way in here!"

"The rest of the kids?" echoed Jackson. "So, we saved them then? We got them here?"

Chance nodded.

"What happened?" asked Jackson.

"First of all, you got shot," said Wesley pointing to his own shoulder.

"I remember that," said Jackson. "I think," he turned his head, to see that his shoulder was, indeed, covered in bandages.

"You three saved all of us," said Milo.

"What happened in that prison?" asked Jackson. "How did all of you get there?"

Milo sighed and sat down on the foot of Jackson's bed. "Well, I wasn't there that long — only like a day or so," began Milo. "I think that Peik was there the longest: He said he had been in that cage for a few weeks. He looked pretty wilted."

"What were they doing to you?" asked Jackson. "Was it Belial?"

Milo nodded. "It was Belial. I explained most of this to that monkey guy, Sun Wokong, the other day." He took a deep breath. "It all started when I was getting fucked by Tank. It was a really hot fuck. We didn't do too much other kinky stuff, but it had been a long day, with, well, Tyler stabbing a counselor and everything. Anyway, so I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, but the doorway took me to Acadie. Then a tiger attacked me, so I ran away. That was when I met Axl and Colt, and they were nice. But then — "

Wesley held up his hand in front of Milo's face. " — Long story short: Like Axl told us the other day, Milo saved him and Colt from Belial. Then Milo was kidnapped. He was taken to Cíbola, one of the regions the President controls. From there, he was put in a cage and thrown in the prison where we found him."

Chance cleared his throat. "In the prison they were torturing and experimenting on the boys. It was like Kato explained the other day in the library: They're trying to find a way to make half-breeds unlock the Elemental Regions."

"I, thankfully, wasn't tortured," said Milo. "I wasn't there long enough."

"The rest of the boys were, though?" asked Jackson.

Milo nodded. "Most o' them."

Jackson sighed. He was quiet for a few, long seconds. "What happened after I was shot?"

"We busted through a door at the end of the tunnel," said Wesley. "When I opened it, there was this beam of light, and everything started collapsing."

"But the doorway led to the Nexus," explained Chance. "And once we were back in the Forest Primeval, Perseus carried you up here."

"They put some weird, creamy salve on your shoulder, and, well…" started Milo ". . . you've been unconscious for like a day or so."

"When you're feeling better, the gods want to speak with us," said Chance.

"That sounds ominous," replied Jackson.

"There's something going on," said Wesley. "They wanted the three of us to be the infirmary's number-one priority. We got a private room — "

" — I had to fight my way in here to see my best friends," Milo reiterated. "Clearly you guys are special."

"Any idea why?" asked Jackson.

Milo shrugged. "I dunno."

"No clue," echoed Chance.

"Athena was freaked out 'bout something," said Wesley. "I'm pretty sure she freaked because we opened the door from El Dorado."

"Maybe that doorway was secret or something," suggested Jackson. "Maybe she didn't want Power finding out about it."

"I think she wanted to seal the door shut," continued Wesley. "She brought in two more people just as we were leaving. And I think I know who they were."

"Who were they — ?" began Jackson before being cut-off by the sound of the door creaking open.

Perseus walked into the room carrying a pile of clothes. He began grinning. "You're awake," he said, approaching Jackson's bedside. "How're you feeling?" He placed the fabric down on the edge of the bed.

Jackson blushed. "One hundred percent!" He chewed on his lower lip then smiled.

"If you're feeling up to it," continued Perseus, tousling Jackson's hair. "You have a meeting with the gods."

"Y-yeah," replied Jackson. "I guess."

Perseus reached over to Jackson's bedside table and found his glasses beneath a lamp. He placed the glasses gently on Jackson's face and secured them around the boy's ears. "Why don't you three get dressed, and I'll walk you to the war room." He patted the cloth he had placed on the bed.

"Yeah — " said Jackson breathily. "C-cool."

Perseus stood up, winked at Jackson, then walked out the door.

Once the door shut, Milo giggled. "You got a crush!"

"I do not!" argued Jackson.

"He is really hot," said Chance. "I can't say I blame you."

"I do not have a crush!" insisted Jackson.

"Remember our promise in the shower the other day, Jacky-boy," said Wesley. "No secrets."

Jackson stuck his tongue out at Wesley. He shimmied out from under the covers.

The boys unfolded the pile of fabric Perseus had brought in the room to find simple, linen pants and short-sleeved shirts with bronze piping. Jackson, Wesley, and Chance slipped off their hospital gowns and began getting dressed.

"Aren't you gonna get dressed, Milo?" asked Chance.

"I'm pretty certain the gods want to meet with you three," he said, pouting.

Jackson screwed up his face then shook his head. He reached to the piles of clothes, and tossed an outfit to Milo. "I don't care what the gods say: you're just as special as the rest of us. Plus, I don't want any of us to be separated again." He put his foot down literally and emphatically. "You're coming."

Milo shrugged, grabbed the clothes, and dropped his hospital gown.

Perseus led the boys through a series of corridors and back to the pillared and windowed war room in which they had first met Kokou and the generals a few days prior. Its furniture was made of richly colored wood with bronze inlay.

Athena and Kokou stood in the middle of the room, and Gilgamesh, Toki, and Sun Wukong were scattered around its edges. Sitting at the table near the center of the room was the middle-aged Mediterranean woman and the old black man that Wesley saw entering the Nexus of Doors the other day. And, beside them, a familiar, young face.

"Kato?" said Chance, raising an eyebrow at the birdlike boy. "What are you doing here?"

Before Kato could answer, Athena interjected. "Perseus, why did you bring the fourth boy?"

"They insisted," answered Perseus. "I didn't see the harm."

Kokou nodded and looked to Athena for a moment. "He can stay." Kokou approached Milo. He towered over the small, redheaded child: Milo's face was about level with the god's crotch. "What's your name, boy?"

"Milo," he replied with a grin. "Are you a god?" His question bordered between genuine and hyperbolic.

"You understand that everything said in this room is confidential, yes?" continued Kokou.

Milo nodded. "Believe me, I know how to keep my mouth shut," he winked at Kokou.

The god smiled, rolled his eyes, and walked back so he was standing beside Athena again. He motioned for the boys to sit on the comfortable, upholstered bench against the wall in the room.

"Do you know who these two individuals are?" asked Athena, pointing to the man and the woman who sat at the table.

Jackson shook his head, "no."

"I have an idea," answered Wesley.

"I'm not surprised." Gilgamesh chucked from the other side of the room.

"But I'm not sure," said Wesley, glaring at Gilgamesh.

"This is the goddess Hecate, and the loa Papa Legba," explained Athena.

Wesley's eyes widened. "That makes sense! They're liminal deities: gods of the crossroads."

"Huh?" asked Chance.

"In Greek Mythology, Hecate is the goddess that separates the divine world of Olympus from the rest of the world," explained Wesley. "And Papa Legba separates the spirit world from the human world in Vodou."

"We are also gods of magic," said Hecate. Her voice raised and lowered in pitch at odd intervals. "Some of the last remaining."

"Athena called you because of the doorway to El Dorado," said Wesley. "That's what you do: seal doors."

"Only after they've been unlocked," said Papa Legba, in an old, gravelly voice.

"What do you mean?" asked Jackson.

"Do you know why there was that great avalanche of rubble when you opened the door, child?" asked Hecate. "Why that great golden light burst forth from the threshold?"

Wesley shook his head.

"Because it had been sealed firmly shut by the will of an Element," continued Hecate.

"That doesn't make sense," said Jackson. He pointed to Kato. "You said the only regions that are locked were the regions for the Elements that vanished."

"That's right. I did," said Kato.

"But we were in El Dorado," said Chance. "We made it in without any explosions; El Dorado's not supposed to be locked."

"It's not," said Papa Legba. "But that, specific door was."

"Tactically, do you think Power would want to leave a door that leads to his home region open?" asked Athena. "Especially when that door leads directly to our fortress?"

Jackson shook his head. "Okay!" he nodded. "That makes sense. Unlike all the other Elemental Regions, El Dorado is not locked; but that specific door was. I understand now." He paused. "It must've been a pretty shoddy lock, if we could open it."

"It wasn't," said Papa Legba. "It took us all night to put wards and locks back on that door."

"We don't want it unlocked either," continued Kokou. "We'd rather not have Belial walking into our fortress whenever he wants."

"So it all makes sense now," said Milo. "They unlocked the door. Unlocking the door released a ton of energy — probably enough to knock down Belial's whole building. And Hecate and Legba came to re-lock the door so no one can get in." He shrugged. "Why do you need to talk to them about that, though?"

"How did you three unlock the door?" asked Kokou.

"That's the thing," said Wesley. "It wasn't locked. I just turned the handle and it popped open. Easy-peasy."

Kokou sighed and turned to Athena. "You were right."

"I'm always right," answered Athena.

"Right about what?" interjected Chance. "What's going on?"

"Are you three familiar with the prophecy of the Tempest Warriors?" asked Hecate.

There was a pregnant pause while the four boys sat, jaws agape.

Jackson broke the silence. "Are you saying — ?"

" — Yes, we are saying that," said Kokou. He turned his head to Kato. "Kinnara, read the prophecy."

"We had him bring it from the House of Wisdom," said Athena.

Kato unraveled a scroll that sat in front of him on the table. He cleared his throat and repeated what they had read before. "The Peacock, a swordsman…The Wild Rose, a knight…The Butterfly, an archer," he recited. "Alone a Warrior can unlock a doorway…Together the Tempest can reawaken an Element." He looked to Jackson, Wesley, and Chance, and continued reading from the scroll. "They guard the Charms to be placed upon the Altars of the Elements…They are healed by Life and remain open to it in all its forms without regard…They wield, each in turn: a strategic mind, immense strength, exacting accuracy…The Tempest brandishes weapons unparalleled: swords that pierce all hides, armor agile and adamantine, a quiver that refuses to empty…The Tempest will awaken when met with the Fragments of what Remains and a godly sacrifice."

"I understood some of that," said Wesley.

"Most of it is missing," said Kato. "The scorch marks cover some pretty important bits. Maybe more powers that you have or something. Who knows?"

"That we have?" Chance spoke quietly. "Powers?"

"Most of that was written all in some sort of poetry-style," said Jackson. "Can you translate that?"

"Yeah…especially that part about a 'godly sacrifice'" Chance looked to Kokou and Athena with a worried expression.

"The prophecy is not speaking of a literal godly sacrifice" explained Hecate. She glanced at Kokou. "You are aware of what it means, yes?"

Kokou nodded.

"What does it mean?" asked Wesley.

"It was an instruction for me," Kokou said matter of factly. "Don't concern yourself with it."

"This. Is. Amazing!" Milo shouted, jumping from his seat. "You three are special, prophecy warriors! You three can save Acadie, and the Mortal World, and everything! How are you not excited!?"

"I promise I will be once the shock wears off," said Wesley.

"How do you know we're the Tempest?" Jackson stood up, and put an open palm to his forehead.

"Boy," said Papa Legba. "I am the god of doorways and magic." He held out an open palm. "I am not powerful enough to break down an Elemental seal. But your friend didn't even realize the door was locked."

"Maybe it's just Wesley, though," interjected Chance. "He opened the door — not all of us." He lowered his head and tugged on his hair.

"Do you think it's a coincidence that one of you opened that portal, and the three of you happen to be a swordsman, a knight, and an archer?" Toki chimed in from the other side of the room.

"We've suspected for a while that the members of the Tempest would be connected," continued Sun Wukong.

"Wait!" Wesley stood up. "How the hell am I a knight?"

"So — so, what do we do?" Jackson said, now pacing. He took a deep breath. "We can bring the Elements back, right? Like, that's our purpose, right?"

"You save the world, boys!" Milo said, now standing on the bench. "Like I said before: You guys are gonna be heroes!" He giggled excitedly and raised one hand into the air. "I get to be your plucky sidekick!"

"I don't know if I can do this, boys," said Chance. "This — I'm not ready for this kind of responsibility. I had trouble keeping my goldfish alive!"

Kokou loudly cleared his throat. "You three will be prepared and ready."

"I am already forming a plan on how you three can do this as safely as possible," said Athena. She looked to the liminal deities. "Hecate, Legba: How long will it take you to figure out the details and prepare any rituals necessary to fully awaken the Tempest?"

Hecate shrugged slightly. "I think we already know what's required."

"But it might take a few days for Gabriel and Agni to deliver the Fragments of what Remains and the Charms," explained Legba.

Athena nodded. "Three days then." She turned to the generals. "Perseus, Gilgamesh, Toki: You have three days to prepare and train the boys. I want them capable and confident before Gabriel and Agni get here." Athena looked to the tallest of the gods. "Kokou?"

"I'm ready. I know my job," answered the warrior god.

To Be Continued