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It didn't take long for Djerod to figure out where Rikard had stashed the haunted lantern. Several hours later, at the onset of dusk, he walked out onto the back porch, his favorite place to think, and there it was. Hanging in the porch.

He scowled at it. He hated ghosts. No matter what justification was given for their existence, be it the Force or religion or the existence of a soul, they just didn't work scientifically. Souls. Pah. People knew far too little about souls. They generally knew even less about ghosts. Both subjects were too wrapped up in superstition and religion to be taken seriously.

Not to mention, he just hated ghosts. He hated the thought that maybe, just maybe, the ghosts of all the soldiers who'd died under his command might still be out there. He was constantly haunted by them. Having one of those spirits actualy manifest itself in a visible form was his greatest fear.

The lantern hung motionless. Outside the screen porch, fireflies danced in the warm summer evening. Djerod took the chair furthest away from the lantern and sat, watching the fireflies, thinking.

Given all the commotion of the house, Djerod tried to make time to sit on the porch at least one a day, usually at dusk. It was an enjoyably quiet place. Most of the house's residents preferred the air conditioning or the heaters or the controlled humidity of indoors. Djerod did, too, but was willing to sacrifice a bit of bodily comfort for some peace of mind.

So he sat there on the back porch with the lantern and watched the fireflies. He could have taken the lantern down, but was presently so calm he lacked the inclination to disturb it. Perhaps tomorrow he could dispose of it and lecture Rikard on frivolous purchases.

Being on the porch gave him time to do what he did best: be depressed and morose. He'd been finding himself more and more depressed in recent weeks. Every day his daughter Emperial was gone added a knot to his stomach and sapped his energy just a little bit more. Though he would never admit it to anyone besides her, he needed her, quite desperately. She was the light of his life, the thing that had saved him from reliving his memories for all eternity. She was his hope. Now she was gone, off on some dangerous mission. The fact that she had failed to tell him about the mission hurt the most. Ever since their first meeting so many years ago, they had always felt completely comfortable together, sharing secrets no one else knew. Emperial knew things about him even his cousin, whom he'd been raised with since childhood, did not.

And now she was gone. With a sigh, he looked over at the lantern. It looked as pathetic as he felt, torn open like that, all its energy and life gone through that giant hole.

"Djerod!" called a voice from inside. He checked his chronometer. Time for second dinner, which was his turn to eat. He rose from the chair with a groan, cast one final, loaded glare at the lantern, and returned inside.

The lantern hung, motionless and silent, a mere spectator of the world.

"RIKAAARD!"

From the front porch where he was pulling on his boots, Rikard cringed. Usually when someone called his name it wasn't a good thing. He struggled with the stiff leather, trying to get his left boot on before he was caught.

"RIKARD!" came the call again, albeit slightly less loudly. Rikard's efforts to shoe himself intensified.

"Wikard, dey callin' shyoooo," sang Yttrium. The tiny Mendel was presently rolling around inside Rikard's other boot. Nearby, his Sigil friend Lemon was playing with her long red hair, oblivious to the whole mess.

"I can hear them," muttered Rikard. With a grunt, he managed to secure the first boot.

If he were wearing any other pair of boots, he wouldn't be having this problem. Then again, this pair, while a little bit tight around the foot, perfectly matched his brown and white robes. He had to wear them. His sense of fashion demanded it.

Shooing the Mendel out of the second boot, Rikard started to slip it on. If he just wiggled his toe a little bit--

"RIKARD!" came Djerod's voice from the front door. "Why the hell haven't you answered me? I assure you I wasn't bellowing about the house for my own benefit."

Rikard turned, looked at Djerod through the screen door, and started stumblign to hs feet, even though his boot was still less than halfway on. "Well, I'm in a big rush, as you can see," he jabbered, hopping down the front walkway. "Yttrium and Lemon just gotta go out today! There's, uh, a movie playing down the stree--OW!" Somewhere between tugging at his boot and hopping, he'd lost his balance, and landed squarely on his rear. The concrete walkway did not serve to make the landing a comfortable one.

Djerod just sighed and shook his head at the young man. "Back inside, then. All of you."

"Neeeeeeeeee!" screamed Yttrium negatively, instantly darting for the nearest bush and taking firm hold of its branches. "Nonononono! We's goin' OUT! Not goin' in! Out out out!"

"Out!" chirped Lemon, but moved towards the door as she was instructed. She tended to follow the lead of the largest creature present.

Standing and rubbing at his wounded behind, Rikard was forced to admit deeat. He'd been caught. Now to find out his crime and the punishment. "Coming," he muttered as he trudged back to the front door. He paused at the bush to collect Yttrium, snapping off the whole branch with Yttrium still attached.

Once safely back in the house, Rikard sat down on the nearest couch and Djerod took a seat opposite. The retired (though that meant nothign to his military) admiral sat opposite, elbows resting on his knees, and fixed Rikard with a serious look. "I've been meaning to speak with you about that lantern."

"Aw, s**t," said Rikard, rubbing his eye. "You said to take it outside, and it is technically outside. I'll put it in the garage, though." He started to rise.

"No, sit down," said Djerod, waving a hand, "it's present location is acceptable. What I wish to discuss is not the lantern itself, but the ghost purported to inhabit it."

As Djerod spoke, Yttrium and Lemon climbed onto Rikard's lap. They could tell this was not a time for shouting and antics. This talk was Serious. Serious meant Quiet. Rikard stroked the two of them absently. "What about her?"

"As you seem to have some sort of information about this ghost, I would appreciate it if you shared it with me."

Rikard looked mildly surprised. He wasn't in trouble after all! "Well, fine," he agreed, "though I mostly know what I read in the shop. There was a little bit of information posted when the raffle was going on. Her name's Oiwa, and she's from Japan. The myth goes basically as follows: her husband killed her father, then her husband desired the wealthy neighbor's beautiful granddaughter, kills Oiwa with this poison that horrible disfigured her before she dies. Her husband then dumps her body in a river and goes to marry the rich granddaughter. t the wedding, he lifts up teh veil and see's Oiwa's disfigured face, so beneahds her, only it turns out it's not Oiwa but the granddaughter after all. Then the guy goes fishing and catches Oiwa's decomposing corpse. he moves to the country, but the vines on the cottage writhe like Oiwa's hair. Finally, Oiwa's borther kills the guy, and life is good again."

Rikard rattled off the tale of woe much like one rattles off a list of ingredients for a pie. It sounded perfectly routine to him. Of course, he was Rikard Prowley, son of the infamous Telrik Prowley, and a murderer himself. To him, it was nothing but an amusing footnote.

Djerod didn't take it quite the way. He grew steadily paler at each grisly turn of the tale until he looked as white as a sheet. It took him a moment to recover himself enough to speak. "Why a lantern?" he managed.

"That was one of the places her husband imagined seeing her face. A burnign lantern. Though it's not on fire right now."

"How fortunate," noted Djerod, voice hollow. "That's all. You may leave."

"Sure thing, Lord Peanut," grinned Rikard, pleased at having disturbed the elder man so. He shooke Lemon and Yttrium of fhis lap and finally finished pushing his foot into his boot. "C'mon, brats, time to go play."

"Wanna go park! Rikard, we go park?" asked Yttrium, similarly unaffected by the story.

"Sure, sure, let's just go."

Onyl Lemon held back a moment. She looked just as upset as Djerod. She offered Djerod one small sympathetic look before scampering out the door after her friends.

Rikard almost didn't notice when Sally sidled up to him. He was standing in the front yard trimming some vines off a Japanese maple. Had it not been for the sound of her jeans rubbing together, he would have never known she was there at all.

"Huh-- whuh?" he went at the noise, whirling at the noise. The sudden shock quickly changed to relief. Rikard placed one hand on his heaving chest. "Sally! Gez, don't scare me like that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," she smiled, not sounding particularly regretful. One finger twirled a light brown braid innocently.

Something about the former commando was inherently disarming. She was young, pretty, in excellent physical shape, and could kill him with her bare hands, yet Rikard found her more comforting a presence than either Djerod or Max. He half-smiled at her. "Can I help you with something?"

"Actually, yes." When Sally said it, there was no resisting, her voice a sultry purr. She leaned against one of the maple's branches. "I was hoping you could tell me about that ghost lantern of yours."

Rikard turned back to the tree and resumed his pruning. The garden shears made a satisfying click as they severed the segments of vine. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Everything is an awful lot. Would you like to be more specific, or shall I lead your train of throught for you?" Rikard's tone was more than a little condescending. He was smart, he knew it, and he wasted no opportunity to rub the fact in.

Lucky for him, Sally was a forgiving person. "Then tell me what you believe to be the important information," she said.

Rikard paused again, cocked his head to the side, and mused a moment. "Y'know, that tightass Admiral p***s never bothered to ask me that. He only wanted to know the information he wanted, wasn't interested in my input."

"Rikard..."

The sorceror threw up his arms. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Here's the info you're wanting. The lantern, the ghost -- it's all part of a special project on Gaia, the transdimensional dumping grounds of the universe where anything and everything goes. In this case, the project's called the Mythos. and the basic gist is mythological monsters and creatures come to life. They start off with those objects. Then the Dreamchild emerges."

"Dreamchild? What's that?" she asked.

"I suppose you could call it a demihuman. It's basically a manifestation, a living creature that I've seen so far, which has a humanoid appearance but several traits of the original mythic beast or monster. But it doesn't end there. In addition to this Dreamchild state, there's also... I forget the name, but it's a full manifestation state. The creature as it originally existed, assuming you believe it existed at all."

"But, wait," she protested, "are you telling me that a living creature will come out of that lantern? It's not merely a haunted object?"

Rikard grinned. "That's the gist of it, yes. Though in Oiwa's case, I can't honestly be certain that the Dreamchild won't be ghostly. She might be an ethereal, see-through thing, or she might be a solid person, like you and me. Based upon her myth, I think she'll be solid, or perhaps have some sort of possession power. She did take over the face of her husband's new wife. I guess the Japanese prefer their ghosts a little more tangible than we Keskans do."

"Does Djerod knwo this?"

"Hasn't asked, no," shrugged Rikard. "I suppose if he does, I might tell him. He might want to know that the lantern on the porch could turn into a person requiring space to live. There's plenty of space here with Em gone, though."

Sally sincerely hoped Djerod did not ask; he hated being reminded of his daughter's absence. "This could be a problem, yes..."

"Tell ya what." Rikard tossed the clippers back in the tool box at his feet. "I'll head on over to Gaia and see what else I can find. Maybe I can get some info from the other owners of Mythos creatures, or the shopkeep. I'll tell you what I find out."

"That sounds excellent. Thank you." She started to turn to leave, then thought the better of it. "Oh, and Rikard?"

He stooped to pick up the tool box. "Hm?"

"Do me a favor. Don't mention our conversation to Djerod."

"Lovely lady," smiled Rik, "my lips are sealed."