With that, the picture began to pull back, and they saw that Alice and Cronos and the door were all on a very small island, indeed. Outside of the bare rock and dirt on which they stood the rest of that place looked like little more than a swirl of colors. Even the sky above their head appeared as a swirl.

“Primordial soup.” Inaros spoke almost as softly as James.

“That’s the way of the second heavens in many places,” Deathwalker explained. “And it may be the way for this place again if we don’t do something about it.”

“But that is not what we found out there,” Chris said.

“But that is because the Lady Alice is holding things together for the present, but with her sick and all, there is no telling how long she may be able to keep it together.” Mrs. Aster sounded very concerned.

“That is Avalon?” Beth asked, but the picture began to change.

“All there was at the beginning of time,” Deathwalker nodded.

“I always preferred the name Shamballa.” Inaros spoke up. “My grandfather brought the family from that region of the world and into the Roman Empire around the time of the first Caesar, Augustus, if I remember. Of course, that was before my time.”

“Hey!” Inaros’ recollection got interrupted by several voices of protest. Mrs. Copperpot reached out with her cooking spoon and tapped the wall, so the picture froze in place. They saw a woman with stringy, light brown hair who stood beside an old stone wall. She wore something like a Roman style toga, but her back was turned so they could not see her face.

“The children got to be prepared before they see more,” she said.

Deathwalker and Mrs. Aster exchanged a glance, but it was Deathwalker who spoke. “You will see the demons,” he said flatly. “Poor Lydia. Her mother suffered from demon oppression, but her mother got set free, by—by the one who was and is…” His voice trailed off.

“Jesus?” Chris asked.

The goblin squinted as if struck by a blow but nodded. “Lydia went to the crucifixion, but then her mother got killed on the road to the coast and the girl got stolen and carried off to slave in a brothel. She escaped. She married a fine Roman, a centurion. She had some adventures, but one day, they found her and dragged her back to the brothel. Many demons came into her in that place, but with her knowledge of the future, she became a prophetess and made money for her owners.”

Mrs. Aster took up the story. “But you understand that while Lydia’s body got saved from the degradation of the brothel, her spirit fell into eternal danger.”

“The spirit of the Kairos. The whole future of the human race stood in danger,” Inaros added.

“If it weren’t for the apostle.” Mister Deathwalker shook his head and the picture started again. The woman turned around. Beth let out a shriek, Chris gasped, James closed his eyes for a second, and David looked away altogether.

Lydia’s hair writhed without reason, her eyes looked blood red apart from the great black rings around them, like she had two black eyes. She had a cut on one cheek, and several cuts on her forearms where she had clearly tried to hurt herself. A bit of drool came from her mouth on a face that appeared so distorted it hardly looked human. Most of all, she showed hatred, fear, pure evil in those eyes and in that expression, which looked willing to destroy the whole world if it could only figure out how. Then she started to yell, and the voice gave chills down the spine as nothing else can.

“Listen to these men! They are telling you the way to salvation! Listen to them!” The picture got paused again by the cooking spoon.

“Demons are stupid,” Inaros said, and Mrs. Copperpot nodded but spoke differently.

“But do not be fooled to think the one in the castle is stupid,” and she started the picture again.

They heard the apostle speak in the name of Jesus and command the demons come out of her.

“No!” Lydia was not willing. “No!” The scene changed, suddenly. Lydia fell on the grass in the meadow that stood before the castle, but the voice came, relentless.

“Come out of her!”

It carried all the way into the second heavens. It reverberated from the rocks like a storm and came across the sea like a tidal wave. It shook the earth and the walls of the castle on the hill shook until it became difficult to see how the walls stayed up. Lydia tore her clothes, and things came out of her. They were identified by the little black dots, though at first, they came so thick together they looked like a pall of smoke. The picture paused again. Mrs. Aster did it this time with her wand. She circled one of the dots which appeared gray in color.

“Ashtoreth,” she announced, and the picture faded. “And she hid while the Knights of the Lance rooted out all the demons and drove them from Avalon and the Isles,” she finished the story.

“Actually.” Inaros put up his finger like he was testing the wind. “The isle of Avalon, the one by name, King Arthur’s Avalon which is the isle of the apples, is over that way.” He pointed.

“Knight?” Beth asked, as she remembered seeing one not many hours ago.

“Knights of the Lance?” Chris asked. He ignored the old man. Mrs. Aster nodded and the picture changed again.

They looked through a door in a darkened room and were hardly aware of the people in that room because of the vision through that door. It did not look like the golden door, but it was a door between the earth and Avalon. They could see the castle in the background beyond the green field. It looked like late afternoon, and an honest-to-goodness knight covered head to toe in brilliant, shining armor rode across the grass on a tremendous horse in full charge. The lance he carried, no toy for sport or jousting, was a real, wicked looking weapon intended to do great damage to an enemy. Chris understood in that moment why the knights of old sometimes got referred to as medieval tanks. This knight chased after one of those same creatures that had chased the children earlier that evening. He caught it by the door. The lance pinned the creature to the far earthly wall, while a very fairy-like fairy, with bumblebee wings, and a young woman with very light blond hair and light brown eyes and freckles, screamed. None of the children blamed them for screaming, and then the picture went away altogether until nothing remained but big, empty white wall.

“Hey!” Deathwalker objected. “The story of Greta is one of my favorites.”

“Greta?” David asked.

“The Kairos,” three people answered.

“My father,” Beth said softly, trying to grasp the image of her father living over and over and sometimes as a woman.

James yawned. Inaros leaned his head on his walking stick and nearly slipped as he almost fell asleep.  David wondered how anyone could sleep after what they just saw. He knew it had gotten well past time for bed. They knew of nothing they could do until morning, and the overhead light had dimmed a great deal, enough to show that there was a ceiling up there after all.

“But who is this Angel?” James heard Beth ask, and he wanted to hear. He thought that might help him get the picture of Lydia out of his mind.

“She is one of the first and greatest of all of the spiritual creatures,” the fairy answered.

“He,” Inaros objected.

“It,” Deathwalker said, and added, “Now go to bed.”

“No wings,” James whispered, and Mrs. Copperpot hushed him, pulled up a chair, sat down beside his bed, and brushed back his hair as he curled up under the covers.

“Come on, boy. You go to bed, and I’ll stand guard,” Inaros intoned. David crawled into bed, but he did not feel too certain about the arrangement. Sure enough, the minute Inaros sat in his chair he started to snore, and David found himself staring at the ceiling and trying not to remember Lydia’s face. Then he remembered that Angel said do not be afraid, and with that thought held firmly in his heart, he slept, despite all the snoring around him.