It didn’t take very long for Lucas, Krause and Brandon to get updated with the recent events painstakingly explained in the previous two pages. Everybody in the café seemed pumped and ready to answer the call to arms when it came and eagerly told the three newcomers everything. They were in Fourside, as they suspected. Riots, looting and general mayhem followed in the wake of the live broadcast of the massacre, but the police had it mostly under control. Espeon was stunned, then overjoyed to see the twins still alive. Krause enthusiastically told a slightly exaggerated account of their adventures since they last met while only taking maybe eight or nine breaths, and managed to enthrall everyone in the café. Ricky cut in when he got to the incident at Sulfur Spring, and the other two got the message and focused on a new hope of reuniting.

"Uh…Espeon, where’s Uncle Flint?" Krause asked after a few minutes of merriment. An evil silence filled the café, and the patrons who had been listening and commenting on their stories backed off. Espeon’s mouth opened halfway, but didn’t break the gloomy calm. Krause couldn’t take all the quiet. For one moment, he lost that little bit of dignity he still had and broke down bawling on the dirty slate floor. The Ricky before the adventure would’ve cried with him, maybe even louder, but this Ricky only grimaced and dug his nails into his palms. Experience was already hardening him, he thought grimly. He and Krause were the last in the line of the Chosen, the only ones with the right blood to fulfill some kind of screwball prophecy told by the ghost of an arrogant bee that would return peace to a crazy world. It was all because of the pigs. Memories of Uncle Flint flashed through his brain like a vivid silent film. The same Uncle Flint who took them in as babies to save them from the regrouping forces of darkness, raised them like their father, defended them from evil and belted them when they drank his moonshine, was murdered. Krause embraced him, and he embraced back. If only they still had a chance…

Soon the four of them were sitting around a table in the corner, Krause sobbing into a ridiculously oversized cappuccino, Brandon comforting him while sipping a creamy Latte, Espeon looking at his plain black coffee and Ricky contented with staring purposefully at his friends.

"So, what happened?" Ricky asked Espeon.

Espeon sipped his drink and nodded. "Flint went down fighting. He must’ve taken out a dozen pigs with his bare hands…never seen anyone fight like that before. Like the Devil was inside him! Imagine how scared we felt when he knocked us over in the passageway while he was running away from something. We made it to the bridge, and then their king came out. He said he could handle him, but he told us to run," he head went downcast. "I’m…sorry. I turned around at the last moment and saw the two of them fall with the bridge."

Krause looked up for a moment between sobs. "The pig king’s dead?"

Espeon nodded.

"But that ain’t stopping the pigs, is it, Espeon?" Ricky said.

Espeon shook his head, then leaned forward and spoke softly. "The worst is coming fast, Ricky. I don’t know how somebody like you got the responsibility of saving the world. Prophecies can suck. I’ve seen it, Ricky. I hope I can help by telling a story about my childhood."

With that, he took a long gulp of coffee, told the others to get comfortable, and began in a soft tone.

Before his grandma took him in, Espeon’s parents were very liberal with him. Liberal, meaning his father was too busy smuggling arms from Scaraba for an unsuccessful rebel faction and his mother was too busy committing adultery to look after him. So he spent much of his days strolling the famous avenues of Summers, playing with kids in back alleys, listening to sailors’ stories on the docks and running errands to support local tourist traps. Although he sometimes felt as if he were missing a family life, he would tell anybody who would ask him how he felt that he was just peachy.

There was a man who sat on the steps of the Stoic Club on occasion, watching the breaking waves while apparently muttering things to somebody nobody else could see. He was very tall, always wore a beret and a messy goatee and rolled a fat cigar through his teeth like a toothpick. Locals and tourists alike walked a little faster when they passed him, and Espeon occasionally heard about him when he eavesdropped on adults.

"That horrible lanky man who sits on the steps of the Stoic Club?"

"Oh, he’s a creep all right! It’s bad for everybody’s business, I tell you!"

"The police should pick up weirdoes like that right away and put him where all the misfits should go – prison!"

After that, there was usually a murmur of agreement before the conversation went on to more important things, like what to wear to Sandra’s dinner party or the latest fad in gourmet gelatin. One day when Espeon was passing by the Stoic Club, he saw the misfit sitting on the rail, rolling a cigar between his fingers. It was too late for Espeon to pretend not to notice him, because the man was looking directly at him.

"Boy, come here."

Espeon approached him like one would approach an alligator with a toothache. There were dark rings around the man’s eyes, and his tan was far weaker than usual. "What’s your name, kid?"

He stuttered a bit. "My…my friends call me Espeon."

"Some people call me Jacques, but you don’t have to call me that if you can think of a better name. But more to the point, I see you walk by the Stoic Club quite a lot. Are you interested in the things that occur behind these hallowed doors, Espeon?"
Who knew what in the world went on behind those hollowed doors? Nobody in the membership ever talked about it, and everybody else was too afraid to ask. One theory was drug trading, others said it was a weird cult headquarters, some said it was a conspirator’s organization and one guy said aliens. Espeon couldn’t deny that he was intrigued. Maybe this weirdo could tip him off.

"Yes, Mr. Jacques."

Jacques only nodded and motioned for Espeon to sit. "Here’s the secret, Espeon," he bent over and whispered into the boy’s ear. "We drink water, stare at a rock and philosophize."

Espeon’s heart sunk. They were just a bunch of intellectual morons after all. "What the…sorry, sir, I was trying to say is, why are you telling me this?"

The man took a drag on his cigar, then spit out a smoke ring that turned yellow, then red, then blue before riding off on the wind. "I’ve got a gift, Espeon. A sixth sense if you will. That’s why I sit on the steps and watch everybody pass by. Sometimes I can ‘see’ what they did last night. Sometimes I ‘hear’ what they think about a freak like me sitting on the steps. Other times I can ‘feel’ an aura about them, one of good, evil or general stupidity. But, quite rarely, I ‘learn’ some very fascinating things about somebody by just looking at them."

This guy was definitely cracked, and he wasn’t even answering his question. Espeon was coming up with an excuse to run away as fast as possible, but Jacques went on. "You will accomplish great things before you kick the old bucket, Espeon. The feeling is almost overwhelming!"

"Really?"

"Yes, boy! But don’t get too excited," no problem, thought Espeon. The man’s voice softened, but also took a tone of both excitement and urgency. "Last night I was staring at the rock, the water clearing my mind. A vision came from the spirit realm, a vision as vivid and terrifying as anything in this material world! A great swirling mass in a void, a great ruined power in the agony of defeat! It howled and babbled like a madman, it released negative energy in great waves of darkness. The dark soon swallowed everything and terror was the only thing I could feel, but in the end was light. The entity was gone, and there was hope anew. A voice rose from the peace. It said, ‘The war against Giygas is over.’ A long time passed, and the light began to dim. Something seemed to stir in the shadows around me, and the darkness quickly rose again. ‘What is this, O disembodied voice? Tell me!’ I pleaded. The shadows themselves seemed to stir, then a hog greater and fouler than any I had ever seen formed from the very essence of the darkness. It bore the grotesque face of grinning fat man and carried a blazing torch that cast a sickly red light on the other shapes in the dark. The shapes distorted, then drew together. I gasped, for they all combined and the evil entity formed again from the mass of shadow!"

Espeon was convinced all right. Convinced that this man should sign into the funny farm. But this story was entertaining, if more than a little weird, so he asked, "What happened next, Mr. Jacques?"

"The voice spoke. ‘The horrors of hell retreat, but they never surrender. The blood of the Chosen must cleanse the evils of the universe once again. When good fights evil, who do you believe will triumph? Do you believe that the light will overcome the darkness in the end of all things?’ I wasn’t meant to answer. The vision faded, and I knew…I knew a great struggle had just passed, and another was coming all too soon. Espeon, my boy, I believe you will be a player in this struggle. I saw something about you long ago that stumped me, but I have faith that you will be very important in the years to come, for good or ill, I don’t yet know. You have much ahead of you, so don’t waste a moment," Jacques placed his hand on Espeon’s shoulder. "May the good spirits favor you."

The boy muttered a thank-you and briskly retreated. The more he thought about what the man said, the more he began to think that there may be some reason to what he said. Those eyes were intelligent – even Espeon knew that – and he spoke with a passion that chilled his bones when he reflected on it later. He never saw Jacques again, but he began to take prophecies and paranormal more seriously. Maybe the funny farm found Jacques before he found it, or maybe he went off on a self-possessed quest to destroy the evil he seemed to believe in.

All eyes were on Ricky now. Nobody but Ricky heard it, but the eerie, broken melody of the Sound Stone floated out of his pack. He gulped. Time to let the ol’ cat out of the bag.

"Espeon, we made it to second sanctuary…"

"Yeah?"

"I didn’t get the melody."

Espeon took it better than they expected, because he managed not to choke on his coffee. "Ricky, I’ve been an adventurer on and off since I was old enough to drink. I got more losses than wins under my gun belt. You’ll pull through, kid."
"Espeon," Ricky said, voice raising, "you don’t get it, do you? You grew up on prophecies and all that crap. You should know more about this than I do. The Sound Stone is the only thing that can stop these pigs from taking over the world! I was told to go to four power spots and hear the melody of the Earth, or some crap like that, to be some kind of Chosen One and set things straight! If you didn’t hear em the first time, I missed one of those freakin’ power spots!"

"Ricky!" said Brandon in the firm voice of a stressed-out high school counselor. "We don’t need fighting at a time like this!"

Ricky went on without even shooting an angry glance at Brandon. "How can y’all sit back and say this is okay? You don’t friggin’ understand! There’s no way I can go back to Sulfur Spring! I can’t finish the melody now! Everybody’s gonna – "

"Shut up, Ricky!" it was Krause’s voice this time. He had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time, but now he was on his feet, looking up at his big little brother with a defiant, but caring gleam in his eyes. "You’re the only one who can save the world now. Sure, I help you a little, but you can shoot fire out of your fingers and heal people, for crying out loud! If I didn’t know better, I’d bow at your sacred feet and call you Jesus Christ! I always knew you were fated to do big things, even before that bee gave you that rock! I follow you into hell because I believe in you! You can’t give up on everything like this! What would Flint do?"

Ricky was still for awhile. His eyes, welling up with tears, shifted from Krause to the others, who were doing lots of eye shifting, too. He answered.

"He’d remember the past, do what he could with what he had, make sure the future works out, drink lots of beer…I don’t know what’s gonna happen next."

Krause smiled. "Same here, Ricky. But you can’t call it quits, ‘cuz the world’s too much to lose. I’m not scared of dying no more. We’ve gone too far to turn back."

"Krause, the Sound Stone was our hope. The world’s hope! It was our only way to beat them, you don’t under-"

"A rock? You put more faith in a pretty rock than yourself. That’s kinda pathetic. Who’s really saving the world, you, or that stone? I believe in you, Ricky. I believe in you ‘till however this one ends. We can win if we want, or try and die saving the world. All I’m asking is that you believe in yourself. Can you do it?"

Ricky leaned back in the squeaky chair, quiet on the inside and out. For anyone not nominated savior of the world, using a musical rock to save the world from a pig army would sound possible only after eating a questionable mushroom or two. It was a laugh at first, but the more and more Ricky carried it, he realized in a strange way that it all did make sense. Finally, he said the truth. "No, I think I’ll need your help."

Krause laughed out loud and rubbed his filthy, matted hair. Ricky managed a grin. That glimmer of hope inside him was a little stronger. Still, that horrible doubt chewed at his gut. How could they win? From all that he saw, he believed the prophecy so far. Would it all end that way? Humans across the world making stands against the hogs, only to be annihilated by what the crazy prophet saw while tripping in the Stoic Club? The epic struggle would be forgotten as the pigs destroyed everything the humans made and turned the world into a mud hole. You have to admit, though, that would be one heck of a way to go.

"Well said!" Brandon exclaimed, and stood, thrusting his weapon in the air. The simple gesture stirred the crowd that had gathered to watch the drama, and it raised a strong amen. Ricky reddened sheepishly. Brandon cleared his throat in apology and lowered his gun. Espeon chuckled in spite of himself. This was the boy who represented mankind’s hope against the hordes of darkness? He was gonna need all the help he could get…