I looked at One Thousand Thirty.
"Get me more books," I said. "I'm not done reading."
He nodded. And the library, broken and dusty and ancient, waited for its queen to remember.
So he brought more books.
My books. My handwriting. Page after page of words I supposedly wrote with hands that were supposedly mine but felt like they belonged to a stranger.
He also brought coffee.
Dark. Sweet. Steaming in a golden cup that probably cost more than my entire apartment back on Earth. I grabbed it without thinking, because I am a mother and mothers do not refuse caffeine under any circumstances, and I drank.
It was the best coffee I have ever tasted.
Not exaggerating. Not being dramatic. This coffee tasted like someone had taken the concept of "morning" and "warmth" and "please God let me function" and distilled it into liquid form. It was smooth and rich and had a hint of something that might have been caramel or might have been magic or might have been both.
I looked at him. "This is incredible," I said. "Thank you."
He froze.
His shadow-face,still partially hidden, still shifting,did something I hadn't seen before. His eyes widened. His mouth trembled. And then, before I could react, tears rolled down his cheeks.
Actual tears.
From a shadow.
"You... thanked me," he whispered. His voice cracked. "You have never... in seven hundred thirty thousand years... you have never thanked me. Never once. Not for anything."
I blinked.
Behind him, the other two shadows,812 and 2001,stared with their mouths open. The girl pressed her hands to her chest like she was having a heart attack. The shifting one had gone completely still, which for him was probably the equivalent of screaming.
"Never?" I asked.
"Never, my Queen." 1030 wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "You are... you are not cruel. You have never been cruel. But you have also never been... warm. Not like this. Not to us."
I felt something twist in my chest. Guilt? Shame? The ghost of an emotion from a life I didn't remember living?
That was mean. The former me,the Eternal Queen, the destroyer of worlds, the woman who killed a three-headed dragon because she was bored,that woman had never once said thank you to the creatures who served her for over seven hundred millennia.
Jeez.
"That's going to change," I said. And I meant it.
The shadows exchanged glances. The girl, 812, looked like she might cry too.
I drank more coffee. It was still amazing.
Few minutes later…The books were a waste of time. Same information. Different wording. Page after page of you are the Eternal Queen and you chose to forget and your children are not your children.
Hell no. My children are my children. Period.
I read about the plan, the grand design, the centuries of preparation, the moment when the rift would open and the legions would pour through and the human world would fall. I read about my supposed hatred for humanity, my supposed desire to rule over ashes and bone.
None of it felt like me. None of it felt like Jessa.
If I vanished from this realm thirty years ago,according to 1030, I left thirty years ago and the rift only opened a few hours ago after the war room meeting,then where the hell did I go?
Not Earth. The rift wasn't open. There was no way to travel between worlds.
So where?
I closed the last book. I stood up. The golden gown rustled. The crown caught the light. The coffee cup was empty and I mourned it briefly.
"I'm going back," I said.
1030 looked up from the stack of books he was reorganizing. "My Queen?"
"Back to Earth. Back to the rift. Back to my children."
He went pale. Which was impressive for a shadow.
"You cannot leave, my Queen. The realm needs you. The legion,"
"Can farm," I said. "Can make gardens. Can figure out how to exist without me breathing down their necks for five minutes."
"My Queen, please,"
"1030." I turned to face him. The golden light around my hands pulsed gently. "I am not asking. I am telling. Take me to the rift."
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
For a long moment, I thought he was going to refuse. I could feel his thoughts,not reading them exactly, but sensing the shape of them. Fear. Devotion. Desperation. The same feeling a child has when their parent says they're going out for milk and might not come back.
"You promised," he finally said. Quietly. "Before you left. You promised you would return. And you did. But you also promised that when you came back, you would not leave again without us."
"I don't remember promising that."
"You wrote it down." He pulled a scroll from somewhere,his sleeve, the air, I don't know, everything here was magic,and unrolled it. "Your handwriting. Your signature. You said that if you ever returned to Earth, you would take us with you. To help. To protect. To... nanny, you said."
I stared at him.
"Nanny?"
"You said, and I quote, 'If I have children in my human life, I will need backup. I cannot chase toddlers and conquer worlds at the same time. That's just inefficient.'"
I read the scroll.
My handwriting. My words. Signed with a symbol that was somehow both a crown and a heart.
I remembered none of this.
But the handwriting was mine. The sarcasm was mine. The part about chasing toddlers and conquering worlds at the same time being "inefficient" was definitely mine.
"Fine," I said. "You can come. All three of you."
1030's eyes went wide.
"Really?"
"Really. But on one condition."
"Anything."
"You need names. I'm not calling you numbers. That's dehumanizing. Or... demonizing. Whatever. It's wrong."
I looked at him. Really looked. He was tall,much taller than me,with broad shoulders and silver-streaked hair and eyes that had seen seven hundred millennia of service. He was loyal. He was terrified of me. He had just cried because I said thank you.
"You're Theo," I said.
"Theo?"
"Short for Theodore. It means 'gift from God.' Which is ironic, given the whole monster thing, but I think it's funny."
He repeated the name under his breath. "Theo. Theo." A smile spread across his shadow-face. "I have a name."
I turned to the girl. She was watching me with an expression I couldn't read,hope, maybe. Fear. The same desperate wanting.
"You're Yhani," I said. "I don't know what it means. It just feels right."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Yhani," she whispered. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. "Yhani."
The shifting one,the one who had almost cracked apart when I made the timeout sign,stepped forward. Its features were still moving, still changing, but I could see the anticipation in the way it held itself.
"You're Jeo," I said. "Short for... something. I'll figure it out later."
The shifting, Jeo, grinned. His face settled into something almost human. Almost handsome. "Jeo," he said, tasting the word. "Jeo."
And then something happened.