The Travelers stood silently. Saint Dane turned to them.

What he expected any of us to say, I didn't know. He was breathing hard. He looked desperate. He looked a older. Was that possible? Saint Dane's face had changed yet again. He was deteriorating.

"Listen to me!" he called out to the crowd. "You cannot give up in mere moments what your ancestors have worked centuries to achieve! You are better than that. Far better. Together we will rebuild this world. Ravinia will spread beyond these walls. But that cannot happen until we eliminate those who are not deserving."

Every last person in the conclave stared up at Saint Dane silently. It was eerie.

Courtney stepped up next to me and grabbed my arm. "Did you see that?" she whispered.

I did. For a brief moment Saint Dane had seemed transparent.

"Look at those around you," Saint Dane bellowed. "The interlopers who have invaded our sanctuary. Is that what you want? Are these the kind of people you want to share your lives with?"

It happened again. Saint Dane momentarily faded, then came back. I looked to Uncle Press. He nodded in understanding. He knew.

Saint Dane pulled himself away from the edge. He was losing it. His blue eyes had turned from fierce to frightened. He reached out to the other Travelers. "There is still hope," he cried. "Still time. Perhaps I have been too resolute. Yes, too arrogant. I can admit that. There is a better way. We can build a better Halla. All of us. Together. That was always my goal."

The Travelers didn't react. He went to each in turn, looking for some kind of confirmation. Some hope. They all stood silently, with no expression. Saint Dane's face was aging. He seemed shorter. He was stooped, no longer standing erect.

He ran to Uncle Press. "We have been friends. You know I only meant well."

"Perhaps," Uncle Press said with no emotion. "At one time."

"We can bring that back!" Saint Dane exclaimed. "That spirit! It can be as it once was. It can! I was only trying to help the people of Halla. You know that."

Uncle Press didn't say another word. Saint Dane then came to me. We stood eye-to-eye. Both of our faces were battered from the beating we had taken, and given. He clutched at my shirt.

"Pendragon," he gasped, his voice getting raspy. "My adversary. We are not so different, you and I."

Saint Dane's image blinked again. For a moment I saw right through him. Literally.

"We both want what is best for Halla; we just come at it from different perspectives. Think. Think, Bobby. Together, you and I embody exactly what Solara is about. There is no right and wrong, there is only balance. Together, you and I, we can restore that balance and heal the wounds."

"You mean the wounds that you inflicted?" I said.

Saint Dane was losing strength. He started to cry. He fell to one knee while still clutching at me.

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way," he sobbed. "I made mistakes. I was weak. I was seduced by my own vision. You of all people should understand that. You know that Halla is imperfect, and I am the embodiment of Halla. Forgive me. Please. Save me."

"I can't," I said.

"Why?" he cried. "Why can't you?"

Saint Dane was sobbing. His image winked out again, then returned, but not fully. He raised his chin, and I looked into those blue-white eyes for the last time.

"Because this is the way it was meant to be."

Saint Dane dropped his head, let out a guttural cry, and disappeared.

The demon was dead. His spirit had ended. It was only fitting that, in the end, I wasn't the one who destroyed Saint Dane. His final undoing came at the hands of the very people he'd set out to dominate. The people of Halla finished Saint Dane. In doing so, they took back control of their own destiny.

(CONTINUED).

THE END.

A few weeks have pa.s.sed since that incredible day that saw the end of Saint Dane and his bid to create a new Halla. I've been walking around in kind of a dream state. It's hard to believe that it is over. Truly over. The quest to stop Saint Dane consumed my every thought for nearly five years. It changed my life. No, it revealed to me a life that I never imagined existed. I know this is going to sound strange, but now that reality has sunk in, I'm feeling kind of sad. Don't get me wrong, defeating Saint Dane was a glorious thing. It was the right thing. I'm still having trouble getting my head around the fact that by ending his spirit, we have put Halla back on the proper course. I know that it's true, but come on a it's a lot to accept.

The other Travelers are in much the same state of disbelief. We all took up residence here in the Taj Mahal. This is where I'm writing my final journals. We all are. Uncle Press asked that we all take the time to reflect on events and write them down. I'm not sure why that's so important, other than as a record from ten different points of view. He hasn't said what's going to happen to them, but the way I look at it is, if there is ever any hint of somebody like Saint Dane making rumblings about causing trouble again, maybe our journals will serve as a warning. Learning from the mistakes of the past is a good thing.

So I'm writing. Everything. I can remember it all in such amazing detail. All of it. From when I kissed Courtney in my home on Second Earth to Saint Dane disappearing before my eyes. Maybe that has something to do with the fact that I'm not really human. Maybe I'm somehow channeling the spirits of Solara into my consciousness to bring back every little fact. I wish I knew I had this ability back in algebra cla.s.s.

Of course, that raises the question that's on everybody's mind. n.o.body has said it yet. Most of the time we spend reflecting on the past, reliving events, filling in the blanks of what happened to each of us when we weren't together. Filling out the story. But there is a very big elephant in the room that n.o.body has dared mention.

What happens to us now?

In my head I'm still Bobby Pendragon from Second Earth. I understand about Solara and the spirit of mankind. It's true. It's real. I saw it all. The idea that we Travelers are spirits that were taken from Solara and given physical life to battle Saint Dane makes sense to me. More or less. What I can't conceive of is a future. Our future. n.o.body has brought it up. I'm not sure we're ready to know. At least, I'm not.

Luckily, there has been enough happening to keep our minds off such cosmic concerns.

The heroic gars returned to Eelong. To Black Water. By joining with the exiles, they exemplified the spirit of Solara and helped save Halla. That was a no-brainer. They belonged on Eelong and were sent back to continue their lives and their fight to gain respect from the klees.

Boon went along with them of course. Eelong was his home. He and Kasha said their good-byes privately. Seeing their tearful farewell made me realize I would soon be in the same position with my own friends. I put it out of my mind. I didn't want to deal with that until I had to.

More difficult was the issue of what to do with the exiles. These were people who originally came from Second Earth. Many of Mark's rebels were also from Second Earth. Should they go back?

The answer was a harsh one. No. Uncle Press was adamant. There were no territories anymore, only the seven worlds of Halla. To send those people back in time would once again disrupt the way things were meant to be. Or had become. He said that Halla should rebuild based on the events that had occurred. On all the worlds. There would be no more traveling. No more interference from Solara. He said that the natural order had been restored, and sending those people to the past of their own world with the knowledge they had of the future would be wrong.

Many discussions took place with the exiles and the leaders they had chosen. They were divided. Some wanted to return, others understood that it would be disruptive. In the end they agreed to start a new life in the future of the world to which they had been born.

Once that decision was made and accepted by all, the flume was destroyed. Using explosives taken from the Ravinian armory, the final tunnel through time and s.p.a.ce was buried. Forever. There would be no others.

I'm happy to say that the Ravinians welcomed the exiles with open arms. They had been living in a gilded cage. Few were allowed to leave the conclave, and when they did, it was usually to travel to another conclave. Now the entire world was open to them. It was a thrilling concept. The exiles would be spread among many conclaves that had been built worldwide. From these centers, a new civilization would grow. Like Halla, Earth had been reborn.

There was no way of knowing what was happening on the other territories. At least, not yet. I a.s.sumed that once we returned to Solara and became part of the spirit, we'd be able to witness events all over Halla. Not partic.i.p.ate in them, but witness them and offer the kind of gentle guidance that was the essence of Solara. I still didn't know exactly how that would work, but I believed we would all know soon enough. I also believed that with Saint Dane's influence gone, the hold that the Ravinians had on all the various societies across Halla would weaken and eventually crumble. The positive spirit of mankind was too strong to allow Ravinia to keep its grip. There was no telling how long it would take on each territory, but after seeing what happened here on Earth, I had no doubt that the days of Ravinia were numbered, and each world would eventually return to its normal path. The way it was meant to be. All these broad-stroke decisions made full sense to me. I accepted them and encouraged them. Where it got difficult was when it became personal.

What was to become of Mark"and Courtney?

If our theory about not sending the exiles back in time was correct, the same would have to apply to Mark and Courtney. As much as it killed me, I agreed with the decision. I was so incredibly proud of these guys. From day one they embraced every challenge that was thrown at them. That I had thrown at them. Now that the battle was won, they didn't stop. They had both been working very hard to act as amba.s.sadors. Mark knew the rebels. Courtney knew the exiles. Together they worked to bridge the gap between them and help them become one. Their knowledge of these newcomers put them in the perfect position to do the same with the Ravinians. They were the liaisons. They were incredible. I loved these guys, which made it hard to tell them the truth.

It happened one night after dinner. The Ravinians had prepared a great thank-you feast that was attended by Mark, Courtney, Uncle Press, and me. It was in the Taj Mahal, of all places. It was kind of funny, actually. The Ravinian hosts weren't the greatest cooks. The had always relied on dados to do their grunt work a or non-Ravinian slaves. But they were determined to do the right thing and insisted on cooking. Most of the food tasted like shoes, but it didn't matter. The thought was there.

Afterward I sat with Mark and Courtney, just the three of us, on the pedestal that held the throne Saint Dane had built for himself. Mark ran his hand over the elaborate gold carvings and said thoughtfully, "In the end he became the kind of person he had such disdain for. Self-centered. Shortsighted. Selfish."

"He was that way from the start," Courtney offered. "He just didn't see it."

I added, "I really think in the beginning he believed he was doing the right thing. I mean, he was a spirit of Solara. He was created by man."

"Yeah," Courtney shot back. "So was Frankenstein's monster, and we know how that turned out."

"I guess," I said. "I just can't help thinking that something went wrong. He should have been stopped early on. Which makes me think, could it happen again?"

"Who knows?" Mark said.

Courtney added, "You will, Bobby. Once you return to Solara."

She had raised the topic I had been avoiding. I hated thinking about it and what it meant.

"And while we're on the issue of what's to come," Courtney said, "what's going to happen to Mark and me?"

Which, of course, was the other topic I hated thinking about. Leave it to Courtney to put it right out there. I didn't answer right away. I wanted to choose the right words and have it make sense. I wanted to make it easier on them. They were my friends. They helped save Halla. They deserved every ounce of respect and consideration I could give them.

"We're not going home, are we?" Courtney asked.

Or there was that way.

I still had trouble finding words. How could I possibly-, tell them that after all they had been through, they had to live the rest of their lives in a strange future, away from their families and the life they loved so much? It wasn't fair.

"No" was the best word I could come up with.

The three of us sat on the top step of the platform.

"It's okay, Bobby," he said soothingly. "We already figured it out."

"Yeah,". Courtney added, "blowing up that flume was a dead giveaway."

"The worlds have to remain separate," I said. "There's no more traveling. Saint Dane interfered in the natural evolution of Halla and nearly brought it all down. We have to make the choice now that it can't happen again."

"There's going to be a problem," Courtney said.

"What?"

"I've got a library book that's been overdue for about, oh, three thousand years. Who's going to pay that fine?"

Courtney always made me laugh. She put her arm around me and said, "It's all right. To be honest, I'm not sure if we'd even want to go home. We're different people now, Bobby. What would we do? Go back to Davis Gregory High? Play volleyball? Watch TV? It's kind of hard to go back to that after you've helped alter the course of the universe."

Mark said, "Though I could sure go for some Garden Poultry fries."

"You could always start a volleyball team here," I offered.

"Sure," Courtney said. "That would be a fun break from reconstructing civilization. Nice."

We all laughed again, then fell silent. We were goofing around, but the situation was serious.

"There aren't any words that can express how great I think you guys are," I said. "I want to say that I'm sorry for getting you involved in this, but I'm not. If not for you, we wouldn't be sitting here right now. You guys beat Saint Dane."

"We all beat Saint Dane," Mark corrected.

"But we did help a little," Courtney added.

"All I can say is a thank you and I love you."

The three of us shared a group hug. It was a sad and beautiful moment.

"There's another question," Mark said. "What are you going to do, Bobby?"

"Really," Courtney said. "Starting a new life here is one thing, but I can't imagine doing it without you."

I had the answer. At least, I thought I had the answer. It wasn't one they wanted to hear.

"Truth is, I don't know," I said. "But I can guess, and my guess is that I won't be here much longer."

That was it.

The impossible happened. Courtney Chetwynde cried.

JOURNAL #37.

(CONTINUED).

THE END.

We were gathered together for what we expected to be the last time. The ten Travelers and Uncle Press. Our final meeting took place in the same spot where I had said my good-byes to Mark and Courtney. We were in the center rotunda of the Taj Mahal. Uncle Press had called us together, and we knew why.

It was time to move on.

We stood in a circle, much the same way we had come together after the flumes collapsed. Uncle Press stood in the center, walking over the Ravinian star. The feeling was much different than when we had last gathered. Back then, we feared that all was lost. There was still fear present, but now it was the fear of the unknown. Not one of us knew what the future would hold.

"So many things have happened," Uncle Press began. "The most important of which is that the positive spirit of mankind has triumphed. We played a role in that. We had to. Saint Dane gave us no choice. But ultimately, the battle was won by the people. And that is the way it was meant to be."

"What about the other territories?" Gunny asked.

"Not territories, worlds," Uncle Press corrected. "Have faith in the power of the human spirit. Without Saint Dane's influence, they will return to the natural path. They are the masters of their own destiny once again. Change won't happen overnight. Ravinia still exists in many places. But it will happen. I believe that, and once you all return to Solara, you will too."

There it was. He said it. We were going back to Solara. For good. I felt a nervous ripple move through the group, and through my stomach. It was Aja who dared ask the question that was bothering us all.

"So what happens to us?" she asked. "Do we lose our personalities? Am I no longer Aja Killian? Will we even remember who we were?"

"You will," Uncle Press answered. "And you will remember all the other lives you've lived and things you've seen. Please, don't be afraid. I know that you're still looking at this through the eyes of the physical beings you've become. But that will change. Don't lament the loss of this life. Rejoice in the many lives you're going to experience."

"I kind of like this one," Spader said, chuckling nervously. "I'm going to miss it."

"That's just it, you won't," Uncle Press said. "Trust me on this. You're not losing something, you're gaining."

Alder asked, "Will we know one another? Will we be able to communicate?"

"It is a good question," Loor added. "We have forged many strong bonds. To think that those would dissolve is disrnrhino."

"Those bonds won't be broken," Uncle Press answered. "I promise. You are one. You are part of the spirit of Solara. You will always be with one another."