Mouser rested his head against his fingertips as he sat exhausted at his work bench. It had been a long day. Hell, it had been a long month. Between births, deaths, injuries, sickness and new refugees, he’d not had any time for his personal research. He had two very promising doctors in training, but they were not to the level he would like them to be in order for him to feel comfortable leaving them alone.

He sighed and picked up the glasses he’d set aside earlier. For now, things seemed to have slowed down. He wanted to at least clean up his personal space. His work bench was cluttered with a month’s worth of started-then abandoned projects. His eyes fell to the small cryo storage unit against the back wall. Contained within were a multitude of samples collected by various doctors and nurses from untold numbers of patients. There had been no time to properly catalog and store the samples as they were collected, so they ended up in there. He’d been meaning to file them away into more permanent locations before he forgot what each one was. He set the glasses in place and slowly stood. Age was finally catching up with him-everything was sore and stiff.

Mouser moved piles of hardware and instruments away from the unit’s location before opening it and lifting the rack of vials from out of its depths. Wispy white smoke billowed from the opening and off the samples as he began pulling each one and organizing them into separate groups. He was nearly finished with the task when he pulled out a vial of strange violet hued fluid. He scowled fiercely when he noticed that it was completely unlabeled. He eyed it critically, wondering what the heck it contained and who would have put an unlabeled vial into his cryo storage. It appeared to be some sort of blood, but he wouldn’t know until it was thawed. He set it aside. The contents would have to be run through the analyzer so it could be identified and matched with an owner.

Filing away the labeled vials went quicker and more smoothly than normal. He found his growing curiosity stirring into excitement. It had been quite a while since he had a real mystery on his hands. He cleared away the last few nagging pieces of clutter before taking up the unknown vial. It had thawed enough for him to invert it to observe its viscosity. It definitely seemed to be blood, but it was the strangest blood he’d ever seen. There was no telling how old it was. It had been many months since he’d last cleaned out the cryo unit. He withdrew a small sample of the fluid with a syringe and took it to his analyzer. When the tray ejected, he spotted three separate samples, and a few keystrokes later on the computer began the test. It could take as long as an hour to analyze the samples, depending on their makeup.

A knock sounded on the door, causing Mouser to jump.

“Yes, just a minute!” he called as he slipped out of the chair and walked to the door.

It figured that he’d get interrupted during his one rare break. He opened the door and was surprised to see a tall white form leaning on an elaborate cane. Keen blue eyes met his as the door swung open.

“Sarsan? You surprised me, old friend. I was not expecting you,” he said as he stepped out of the way.

“I’m sorry for the unannounced visit, Mouser. I’ve not interrupted anything important, have I?” Sarsan replied as he slowly stepped into the small office.

Mouser shook his head. “No, nothing too important. Just taking a moment to clean my space.”

Sarsan took a quick look around before sitting in one of the empty chairs at the small table. Mouser followed behind and took a seat opposite his old friend.

“Is there something I can help you with? It’s not often that I see you down here.”

Sarsan sighed quietly as he gingerly rubbed his left knee. “I think the stress is getting to me, old friend. I’ve not been sleeping well and this old injury has been flaring up more often and with more pain.”

Mouser only sighed and turned to a very familiar cabinet. He pulled several small vials off the shelves.

“I swear, between you and Raith, the pair of you are going to drive me insane,” he grumbled as he returned to the table and placed them down before Sarsan.

The elder Taloan arched a bushy white brow and shot him a toothy grin. “Mouser, old friend-we all know you are already crazy.”

Mouser huffed as he waved Sarsan off. “I’m serious. The pair of you always waits until you’re too far hurting before you come here wanting treatment. Why can’t you just come regularly, before the troubles set in?”

“Raith has been here recently?”

“That boy of yours is stubborn as…as…” he paused, searching for the right word.

“As a Leonian?” Sarsan offered with a grin.

“Yes, and it’s not amusing. He needs to come at least every week, but against my better judgment, I allow him every two weeks. Then I know I really will not see him until he is in pain, just like the other day.”

“How is he, Mouser? I don’t see him as often as I used to. The attacks changed him,” Sarsan said quietly.

Mouser could only shake his head. “The healing’s coming along, though would go faster if he did not insist on doing so much himself. Mentally? I’m really not sure. He has that annoying Leonian skill of hiding his emotions. But I know he still has the nightmares. He constantly wants these,” Mouser replied and shook on of the vials containing a powerful sedative.

“Though I have cut him off. I give him relaxants instead and just don’t tell him. That sedative is dangerous used long term. But I know he’s not sleeping well, and Bud reports that his mood swings are more random, says the stress is getting to him.”

Sarsan sighed and shook his head. “I just do not know what to do about him anymore. There is so much pressure on him, so many looking up to him. He tries to do too much, but he is only one man…a man robbed of his true calling.”

Mouser raised a bushy white brow. Sarsan had that distant look he knew all too well.

“Sarsan, please, not this energy stuff again. All of us have had what could have been ripped from us. I know you sense something; I ran the tests and scans long ago to observe it. But this unseen force of yours does not control us, and it sure does not determine our destinies.”

“I’ve been feeling it again, that same feeling that came over me the day I arrived at the terminal to greet the first Leonian refugees and a tiny boy was placed in my arms; that same feeling that led me to stockpile the supplies that we now survive on. But it’s different and I don’t understand.”

Mouser sighed as he sat once more. When Sarsan was in his moods, there was nothing to do but sit and listen, and so he did. He listened as Sarsan described how his sensing of the new energy began a little more than a month ago, how it brought with it a hope he’d not felt in a long time; how he’d felt drawn to come here this evening. Mouser could tell it had been weighing on him; his mental status was as precarious as his adopted son’s. Perhaps it was a good thing he’d given Sarsan the vials.

A sudden shrill beep sounded, causing both men to jump and direct their gaze to the diagnostic equipment on the counter.

“What you got running over there?” Sarsan asked with an unusual interest.

“Ah, just found an unlabeled blood sample earlier. I am running tests on it to find out where it belongs,” he replied as he got up from his chair and walked over to the device. He pulled up the report…and stared. He hit a few more commands, scrolling through the triplicate reports…all were the same. “What the…” he started and glanced over the data again.

“What’s wrong, Mouser?” Sarsan asked as he arrived next to him and looked over his shoulder.

“This sample…It was indeed blood, but…the computer doesn’t recognize it. It matches no registered citizen, and more importantly, it matches no species currently in our database.”

“What? Are you sure? Has the sample been contaminated?”

Mouser clicked another section of the reports. “No, the computer reports it’s one hundred percent pure, which is again odd. Nothing comes back that pure.”

“The machine broken?”

Mouser shot him an incredulous glare. “I calibrated it myself just a day ago. It is working perfectly.”

“So you’re saying a new species slipped in under our noses?”

“It certainly appears that way, or else there is a new hybrid child around. But how could blood be taken and the creature not be noticed?”

“What does the DNA analysis show?”

Mouser had to click through several more screens to get to that page. Again, he was baffled by what he saw.

“This makes no sense. The analysis shows close relation to multiple species, including Taloans, Cassarians, Kalatians, and Paloans, just to name a few, but it appears to be most closely related to Leonians. The chromosome number is identical. However, it is distinctly not any of the species or a combination. This is not a hybrid creature-it is a new species.”

Mouser noticed a familiar look in his friend’s eyes. “Sarsan…”

“How old is this sample, Mouser?”

“I’m not sure. It was completely unlabeled. The computer could not decipher its age. Why?”

“Where’s the rest?”

Mouser shot him a confused glare before walking over to the cryo unit. He retrieved the sample and took it back to Sarsan. Sarsan took it carefully. A look of awe came over him as he examined it.

“Sarsan, what is it?”

Keen blue eyes met his with renewed fire. “Purple blood…how strange…”

“Please Sarsan, tell me what you know.”

Sarsan shook himself out of the near trance he’d fallen into. “I don’t know anything for sure, but if I find out, I will let you know. For now, keep this in a very safe place,” he replied and handed the vial back to Mouser.

Mouser scowled fiercely at it before taking it back to the cryo unit. He carefully placed it back on the shelf and closed the hatch. He heard Sarsan stand and retrieve his cane.

“I’m sorry to keep you from your work so long. I suppose I should be leaving. I’ll be in touch with you soon,” he said as he moved slowly toward the door.

“You do not need to rush off, Sarsan. My organizing can wait. We’ve had so little time to sit and visit.”

Sarsan only smiled. “I know, but I’ve got something important I must tend to. Another time?”

“Another time then,” he replied with a sigh.

Sarsan nodded silently as he opened the door and left the office. Mouser found himself surrounded by silence once more. His gaze fell to the vials still sitting on the table-Sarsan had forgotten them. Mouser sighed heavily in frustration as he retrieved them and returned them to their place in their cabinet. Sarsan and Raith may not have been related by blood, but they were more father and son than most full blood relatives.

---

Sarsan reverently entered the dimly lit Temple of Light that sat deep in the heart of Refuge City. An almost eerie combination of red and blue light radiated out from the front of the temple were a story long forgotten was displayed in stone carvings that had withstood the tests of time. He tried to recall the Keeper’s lessons. The hermit Taloan had disappeared after the first attacks, leaving him to decipher what he felt in the energy on his own. He slowly made his way to the makeshift altar that had been erected once the masses began to consider the teachings a religion. It was foolishness, but if it brought them comfort and kept the memory of what had truly saved them alive, then he would tolerate it.

He approached the carved relic with renewed hope. There was a new species among them, one with purple blood. Was it possible that the legends were true? Did the Children of the Light really exist? His eyes locked on the stone carvings. In the midst of all the symbols and drawings of unknown meaning was a group of figures with raised arms. Lines that he had determined to depict the light rose from their chests and joined together above it all to form the symbol of unity the city had adopted as its logo…the symbol depicting unity with the Guardians. The Keeper had called the figures the Children of the Light, the Guardian’s chosen ones. They alone held the power to harness the light, and in their current situation, were the only ones he saw that could put an end to this war once and for all.

Sarsan allowed his gaze to fall to the pair of eternal flames that burned atop pillars on either side of the relic. One burned pure blue, the other pure red. Most thought them simply cool illusions to enforce the ideas housed in this room. Sarsan had no idea how they came to be. No one tended them, kept them burning, or could put them out. They just…were. It was said that they burned brighter and with more fury during attacks on the city, though he’d never witnessed this himself.

Sarsan set his cane aside and dropped to his knees. He didn’t consider the teachings of the Guardians a religion, but kneeling before the relic and the flames felt proper at the moment. He wished they would speak to him like the Keeper claimed they could. He’d never heard audible instruction, only had felt the quite prodding in the back of his mind, directing him toward the paths that he should take. He felt no prodding now. He simply felt…energy for lack of better description, and it was alive like it had never been in the past. Something was different.

“Please, give me a sign-anything. Are the Children of the Light real?” he whispered quietly. He waited in silence, but he felt-saw-no change.

“Are they here? Please, I need to know,” he continued, but again, there was no response.

Sarsan sighed quietly and hung his head. He’d not seen any visible manifestations in all his time of searching-why would it be any different now? A long forgotten memory suddenly surfaced. He remembered a time back when Raith was very young and he was teaching the boy about the Guardians. Raith would claim he could see the lights, the trails of red and blue that were said to be the signature of the Guardians’ passing presence. He’d almost imagined he’d seen it as well as they lay on the balcony of the mayor’s mansion, staring up into the sky. Raith had had such a vivid imagination.

He sighed quietly as he looked back to the flames and the carving. It seemed that if something were stirring in the energy, it was not his place to fully know about it…yet. Eventually his sensations would lead him to action, just as they had in the past.

A vibration in his vest pocket caused him to jump. Sarsan scowled as he reached in and pulled out his personal sat-com. Mouser’s code flashed on the screen.

“Sarsan speaking,” he answered quietly.

“Sarsan, its Mouser. I just wanted to let you know-that blood is not purple. In the vial, protected from oxygen, it is, but it turns red as soon as it is exposed. There’s not much unusual about that. It just belongs to a new species.”

Sarsan could only stare at the device as his mind slowly processed the news.

“Sarsan?”

He sighed heavily before replying. “Thank you for informing, Mouser,” he replied and switched the device off. Sarsan’s shoulders slumped as he placed the sat-com back in his pocket. Heaviness settled over him. He’d wanted an answer and now he had it. The blood did not belong to a creature of the Guardians. The hope he’d felt earlier was completely gone and the pains he’d originally been battling came rushing back with renewed force. He cast one last forlorn glance at the relic before turn his head away.

“Sarsan?”

The elderly Taloan flinched and cast a surprised glance over his shoulder. The contrast in light allowed him to see only the silhouette of a figure further back in the room.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” came a now familiar voice as the speaker moved closer and then eventually arrived beside him.

“Raith? I am surprised to see you here. Help an old man up, will you,” he replied and reached out to take the hand Raith had already offered.

“I was in the area, covering patrols for an ill guard. I thought of you as I neared this place and was not surprised to see you here. Though I’m quite curious as to why you’re on your knees.”

Sarsan allowed his son to help him up, then brushed off the knees of his trousers. He took the cane that Raith had also retrieved.

“Ah, so you do still feel the energy’s leading?”

Raith arched a brow and shot him a critical glance. Sarsan sighed quietly.

“No, this has nothing to do with energy. As I said, I was simply passing by and was curious to see if it was true what I’ve been hearing, that you are constantly seen here. Please don’t tell me you are starting to fall for this religion nonsense.”

The comment brought a slight scowl to Sarsan’s face. He really did not wish to debate the topic. He and Raith found time alone so rarely and an argument over theology was not how he wanted to spend it. His son had changed so drastically. He sighed heavily as they both cast a quiet glance back at the relic and flames.

“I remember the days back when you were little and you claimed you could see the Guardians’ energy. Do you remember?”

Raith remained pensive as his gaze stayed focused on the light of the flames dancing about the carving. He finally sighed quietly.

“I saw many things as a kid. The stories you told were so vivid and wild that anyone with any hint of imagination could think they saw lights, energy, or even your mythical Dalmarians. That was a long time ago,” came the quiet reply.

Sarsan sighed sadly as he turned back toward the temple exit. Yes, Raith had changed so much. He sensed his son’s hesitation.

“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend you. It was not my intention,” came the quiet voice from behind him.

Sarsan looked back over his shoulder and shook his head. “You did not offend. Quite frankly, it was a long time ago for all of us. I come here, hoping for answers, trusting what I think I feel, but all I receive in response is silence. I don’t know what to believe any more.”

He felt Raith’s hand on his shoulder.

“Sarsan, don’t lose hope. My thoughts on all this may be in question, but if you begin doubting as well…I don’t know where we’d end up. I know the weight of running this city is a heavy burden, but you must continue to believe for all of us.”

“I don’t know if I can do it anymore,” he replied and slowly began to head for the exit. He didn’t hear Raith following. He paused and turned back to see the Leonian gazing up at the burning flames.

“I remember only brief flashes from that day four years ago, the day the fire rained from the heavens. I remember running through the chaos and gore, holding that baby close while trying to lead those children to safety. I couldn’t see anything but dust and smoke. Just when I thought I was going the wrong way, an odd sight caught my attention. It was brief and I half think I was suffering from a concussion, but ahead of me I saw a bright mesh of red and blue. It wavered, as if distorted by heat waves. But I caught a glimpse of clear and calm beyond it. I corralled the children and pushed them toward it. It was all I could do. I remember reaching it, feeling as it enveloped me, just before I remember nothing.”

Raith turned from the relic and began heading for the exit as well. Sarsan’s eyes widened as Raith paused next to him, his green eyes burning with determination.

“Don’t lose hope,” he repeated and continued out until he disappeared into the corridors beyond.

Sarsan stood in silence as he pondered Raith’s brief tale. He’d never heard that account, but the words reignited the wavering flame in his soul. Raith may have chosen to dismiss what he’d been taught, what Sarsan always knew the boy had always been able to sense, but somewhere deep down, the Leonian still believed. Sarsan was convinced more than ever that the Guardians had spared his adopted son’s life.

He had to stand strong. This was not the first period of silence he’d encountered over the years. The purple blood had given him false hope, but there was still the unknown stirring he felt. He didn’t understand it, but he left the Temple of the Light knowing that all would work out in due time.