No response.

Again he summoned, this time accompanied by the calling of the name aloud.

Nothing.

He was forced to acknowledge a stillness and a silence and an emptiness he had never known. Since he had become Venger, there had been the shadow servant. He had never been without him. Always by his side had been the Dark Familiar, now gone.

Shadow Demon was gone.

The Ranger!

"He will pay for this," Venger whispered in a murderous tone. "He will suffer. He will die!" He pounded his fist against the throne, throwing dust and cracking the arm. Pieces fell to disturb more dust on the floor.

He looked down at this, and then rose and turned to face the regal seat. For a moment, he stared at it, his face twisting ever more in anger until he lunged with a roar and pummeled the whole of it to shards and splinters. When he finished, he was on his knees, his eyes glowing with crimson flames, amid a cloud of the remains of the throne's structure � ancient stones, aged wood, and the bones of dead wizards.

He took a handful of debris and crushed it into yet more dust. This is what I will do to the Ranger and his friends.

Sheila sat on the ground. She couldn't take her eyes from Hank's form, which was crouched perfectly still as he stared out intently at nothing in particular. He had been like this since Venger escaped. He hadn't spoken to or even looked at anybody. He wouldn't answer when any of them tried to talk to him. It was like he wasn't there, yet his presence was very much felt, as evidenced by everyone's subdued demeanor some distance away from him.

She looked up. The day had become overcast. Those sunny hours earlier hadn't felt right, anyway.

Bobby sat grumpily beside her. He had wanted to go to Hank, and she'd had to stop him. Naturally, he had asked why, but she hadn't been able to think of a way to answer so that he'd understand. Now, he was fidgeting with his club. She knew he was about to say something.

He scooted over closer to her. "What's going on, Sis? I don't get it. Why are we sitting over here, and Hank's all alone way over there? He killed Shadow Demon!�"

"Keep your voice down, Bobby, please."

"Why? Why can't we talk? Just tell me what's going on. I don't like this. I mean, why isn't everyone happy? Everybody's acting like Hank's gonna bite or something."

"Ya think?" said Eric, but no one responded to him.

"Bobby, Hank's changed somehow, okay?" Diana began something of an explanation. "He's not acting like himself. I don't think he'd hurt any of us. . . , but we need to be careful. Hank has all the powers of our weapons, and. . . ." She stopped and looked to Sheila.

Sheila understood. No one had a good answer for Bobby. No one wanted to say that Hank was a threat. No one wanted to say that it seemed as though Hank were turning evil. That was something that Sheila simply couldn't accept. She felt she should do something, but she didn't know what. She hated sitting by while Hank was in trouble. And he was in trouble, she knew, whether anyone else, including Hank, thought so or not.

"This is so stupid!" Eric said in hushed tones. "Sitting over here like children put in the corner for acting up! We gotta do something about him!"

"Yeah, Eric, but he just put Venger in the corner," said Presto, and then he sighed. "I think I'd rather just leave him alone for now. He'll come around. He's probably over there trying to figure out how to get the powers back where they belong right now." He took off his hat and just looked at it as though it were a dead beloved pet in his hands.

Everyone fell silent again, and Sheila went back to uselessly staring at Hank.

Hank's mind was in a place it had never been before, and he marveled at it. Thought took form. He felt almost centered. His thinking brought him near clarity. When he concentrated, he could make pieces fit � if forced. And the picture was incomplete, but it was enough for Hank. What he saw, he knew already.

I need more power. All six weapons, and Venger still lives.

I should have known. I should have realized. It makes sense and I didn't see it. Our weapons were never enough to beat him.

No, I did see it. Over and over I saw it. All those times, we only succeeded because of some lucky break or because Venger overlooked something. Our weapons never truly threatened him! And Dungeon Master has known all along. He has known all this time that our weapons were never enough!

Dungeon Master. Venger. Us. . . . Where do we fit in? Why are we here if not to kill Venger? That's what's missing. Why can't I see it?

It won't matter soon. All I need is more power. And then I will kill him.

For you, Sheila. For all of you. For everyone. I know what I have to do.

The wind. . . . Who else but Dungeon Master? But why? And why not make himself known? What kind of game is he playing this time?

Venger stood in a forgotten library. He absently fingered the bindings of various texts. Those that were not protected by spell fell to dust.

Had this castle stood so long? he wondered.

He looked around the room. Abandoned spider webs were in every corner. There were a few candles here and there, melted down onto their holders. A table in the center of the room held a book on a bookstand. A bloodstain beside. He went to examine the ancient text. The pages were fragile with age. He wondered what he'd been studying and when, and then suddenly he didn't care. He clawed the open book, and it fell apart. The bookstand didn't hold up, either. Venger's lips curled into into a smile and he chuckled at it. His expression returned quickly to the mixture of anger and misery.

He looked around again. He spied a chest in the corner and went and opened it out of curiosity � nothing more. He lifted Nera's wand. Delicate, beautiful . . . and useless. It had only ever worked for its delicate and beautiful former possessor. He had killed her for nothing. I should have made the weapons work only for me. He tossed it behind him and removed an ancient map. He carefully unrolled it. It marked the supposed whereabouts of the mythical Protectors, the thirteen crystal dragon figurines that were said to protect one from their corresponding Weapons of Power. Balance. . . . I should have searched for them. He set the map aside.

He removed next a small, oval mirror that was said to show its owner his enemies. Worthless. All it had ever shown him was his own reflexion. He flung it behind him. The sound of its shattering making him chuckle again; he couldn't fathom why. Now he found bundled incenses with scents that blinded, paralyzed, maddened, killed. All crumbled at his touch. He wondered why he'd never amused himself with their use on his prisoners.

Shadow Demon had always invented the most creative tortures. . . .

Phial of Flame that could burn through cursed chains. No need for that. It flew up and over Venger's head, landing with an explosion of fire that he didn't so much as acknowledge.

Revealing Ring that could show the mood of any who wore it. It was always black on his finger. He flung it away.

Ouroboros pendant on a silver chain that was said to give the wearer life eternal. Fake. Toss.

Mystical this, enchanted that; bone of this, wing of that � all scattered now about the room. There was nothing here that could help him. Still, he knew he must fight. He could not lose all to a boy! The humiliation!

He sat back against a wall and propped an arm on his knee. With a flick of a finger, the Ouroboros left the collection of debris and strewn charms to fly into his waiting hand. His eyes followed the body of the snake up to the head, which held its tail in its mouth, trying to devour itself.

Venger smirked, then chucked, then laughed aloud. "Fool!" he said to the snake, laughing. Then he laughed louder, unable to control it. But then his laughter died away.

"Fool," he whispered to himself. It had never occurred to him to ward his castles against invasion by unicorn. The Ranger had proven himself both clever and daring. He could almost admire him.

He crushed the pendant and rose. What was this? This was unworthy of him!

"I need nothing. I need no one!" His wings majestically spread wide. "I am Venger! The Force of Evil! No one can stop me! No child can thwart my destiny!"

Venger knew his enemy's next move. It would be what his own would have been. He would go to the Dragons' Graveyard. The ways of the weapons would show him how to unite their magics. It would be as easy as replacing the powers to their corresponding hosts. And Venger could think of no way to prevent him.

Perhaps he wouldn't have to. Dungeon Master may yet intervene. Perhaps it had been Dungeon Master who had stopped the Ranger before. There was one other possibility � albeit a remote one � one that he couldn't quite bring himself to truly believe. It was time to be daring himself.