She'd left the guest house and crossed to the main house specifically for this coffee maker. The sad little four-cup machine in the kitchenette couldn't produce nearly enough caffeine for what was about to be a very long day. Her parents' expensively appointed chef's kitchen, on the other hand, had a commercial-grade brewer that could caffeinate a small army.
She'd thought she had the house to herself. Her parents were supposed to be at the San Francisco townhouse this weekend—Dad had some client dinner, Mom had a charity board meeting. The main house should have been empty except for the housekeeper, who didn't arrive until nine.
So, when the kitchen door swung open, and her mother padded in, wrapped in a plush bathrobe, hair mussed from sleep, Zoe nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Zoe?" Her mom blinked at her, then relaxed. "Oh, good, it's you. I thought I heard someone moving around."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Zoe's heart was still hammering. "I thought you and Dad were spending the weekend at the city house."
"Your father got called to San Diego. One of his pro-bono clients got snatched up in another damn raid." Her mom shrugged, the gesture carrying a familiar mix of resignation and pride. "ICE decided 7 PM on a Friday was the perfect time to terrorize a family with two American-born children. Jim flew out to go slay the Federal Dragon."
"Go, go, go, Dad."
Jim Quester made most of his money as a high-priced immigration attorney, representing tech firms and other corporations that needed H-1B visas. But he dedicated a substantial chunk of his billable hours to pro-bono work—refugees, the undocumented, families caught in the grinding machinery of a system designed to chew them up and spit them out. It was one of the things Zoe loved most about her father, even when it meant he missed dinners and school events and sometimes entire weekends.
"What about you?" Her mom moved toward the coffee maker, eyeing the massive thermos with raised eyebrows. "What are you doing awake at this hour? You aren't just getting home, are you?"
The question was casual, but Zoe caught the undercurrent of concern. Her parents had definitely noticed the odd hours she'd been keeping over the past four months—the late nights, the early mornings, the way she'd retreat to the guest house for hours at a time. They hadn't pushed, not yet, but Christine Borrel Quester hadn't become one of the most successful appellate attorneys in Northern California by missing details.
"No, I..." Zoe winced, her weary mind scrambling to cobble together a suitable explanation. "Warren and the fellowship are coming over to play the campaign."
"This early?" Her mom's tone was dubious.
"This late for some of us." Zoe managed a tired chuckle. "But yeah, everyone's schedules have been nuts lately, and Pablo's been dying to run this session. So we're making it work. Thus—" She gestured at the thermos. "—this Exxon-Valdez-sized quantity of coffee."
Her mom studied her for a long moment, and Zoe had the uncomfortable sensation of being cross-examined without a single question being asked. Christine Quester could read a room—or a witness, or a daughter—better than anyone Zoe had ever met.
Then her mom's expression softened. "Well, you kids have fun." She padded over and pulled Zoe into a tender hug, the familiar scent of her expensive moisturizer wrapping around them both. "Give your brother and the other heroes my love. But I'm going back to bed."
"Yeah. Will do. Sleep good."
Zoe watched her mom disappear back through the kitchen door, relief and guilt warring in her chest. Whatever suspicions her mother harbored, she was at least pretending to accept the hasty cover story. For now.
How much longer can we keep this up? Zoe wondered, turning back to the gurgling coffee maker. How many more lies before they stop believing any of it?
The thermos was nearly full. Outside, the sky was lightening from purple to gray. Her phone buzzed—a text from Pablo.
Pablo: Five minutes out.
Tucking her phone away, Zoe grabbed the thermos and headed for the door. The Quester Estate sprawled across twelve acres of fertile Yountville real estate, most of it dedicated to the small-batch vineyard that had been her parents’ passion project. The main house—sleek and modern, all glass and angles, with more rooms than any family of four could reasonably use—sat at the top of a gentle rise, overlooking the orderly rows of grapevines that marched down toward the valley floor.
Zoe was waiting on the circular driveway when Mark’s—no, Warren's Jeep pulled up, followed closely by Pablo's truck. The eastern sky had brightened to pale gold, though the sun hadn't yet crested the hills. Birds were starting to sing in the olive trees that lined the drive.
Warren was the first out, moving with the restless energy that had always defined him, even before he’d been imbued with tremendous elemental powers. Pablo and Sasha emerged from Pablo's truck together—Sasha's hand briefly finding Pablo's before they separated, a small intimacy that made something twist in Zoe's chest. Eden climbed out of the back seat, looking nearly as exhausted as Zoe felt.
"Coffee," Zoe announced, holding up the thermos. "Industrial strength. You're welcome."
"You're a goddess," Eden breathed, making grabby hands at the thermos.
"Obviously." Zoe handed it over. "Mom's home, by the way. Told her we were playing D&D again, but let's not push our luck and try to keep it lowkey."
They filed through the main house in silence, past the formal living room with its uncomfortable, very stylish furniture, through the commercial-grade kitchen that rarely saw use except during her parents' elaborate dinner parties, and out the back door toward the winery buildings. The crush pad—a broad concrete platform where grapes were processed during harvest—led to the entrance of the wine caves, tunnels carved into the hillside that maintained a constant cool temperature.
The caves were impressive by any standard—thousands of square feet of barrel storage, a private tasting room, and, of course, the "game room" that had been Warren’s domain since high school. The space hadn’t evolved much over the years from a teenage hangout spot that it had been created as. That said, the Questers rarely did anything on the cheap, comfortable office chairs around the table, a wall-mounted TV, and a custom gaming table that could accommodate the entire fellowship, even after it had grown to include Zoe and Sasha in recent years.
What visitors didn't see was the hidden passage concealed along the back wall—a door that Sasha had carved through solid rock using her earth powers, leading to the cramped chamber that housed the most advanced piece of technology on Earth.
Delta's probe rested on a platform of shaped stone, its multifaceted crystalline surface catching the dim light of the LED lanterns they'd set up. The egg-shaped crystalline object was roughly the size of a Smart Car.
Zoe pressed her palm against the cool crystal. Reality lurched, twisted, and reformed around her.
She stood in Delta’s command garden.
No matter how many times she experienced the transition, it never stopped being disorienting. One moment, she was in a cramped cave that smelled of damp stone, barrels, and fermenting fruit; the next, she was standing in an impossible space that shouldn't exist inside an object barely larger than a dumpster.
The garden stretched out around her—a vast hexagonal chamber with a stepped ceiling that reminded her of a hollowed-out Mayan pyramid. Manicured beds of strange shrubs and dazzling flowers unfurled in a spectrum so wide it included colors she'd never seen in Earth's plant life before. Chrome metal walkways snaked between the garden beds, leading to what she'd first mistaken for abstract sculptures—until you noticed the glowing screens of scrolling data embedded in each one. At the apex of the vaulted ceiling, a brilliant light burned like a miniature sun, bathing the room in a glow as bright and clean as midday.
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A hexagonal stone table dominated the center of the garden, ringed with high-backed wooden chairs. At its center, mounted on a pedestal, stood a towering glass egg—twice Pablo's height—filled with swirling tendrils of multicolored mist that twisted and danced within. The others materialized around her as they touched the probe's surface—Warren first, then Pablo and Sasha together, finally Eden.
"Good morning, Paladins." Delta's voice echoed through the garden, and his avatar shimmered into existence above the table—a sinuous silver dragon the size of an elephant, wings folded against his back, eyes glowing with cool intelligence. "I trust you all slept well during the scant few hours available to you."
"Can the cheery disposition, Delta," Warren muttered. "It’s way too early for that."
“Well, excuse me,” Delta V said with a heavily implied harumph.
“I know everyone would have preferred to rest longer, but realizing that Agent Murphy has had trackers on us for days or weeks means we’re even further behind the curve than we thought. Dealing with her would be bad enough, but we’ve also got Warren’s Winter Medusa to handle, and we can’t have Murphy breathing down our necks while we do so,” Pablo said at length while moving to take his place at the table
“So, what’s the plan, oh venerable Talon Lead?” Warren asked.
"We’ve got a lot to work through,” Pablo went on at a level tone, admirably refusing to rise to Warren’s sarcasm. Zoe suppressed an urge to smack her brother as the entire team took their seats. “Delta bought us a little room to maneuver by hijacking the tracker signals. But I can’t imagine Murphy’s going to react well to the realization once she figures out we tricked her. First order of business is upgrades. Those of us who went into the dungeon have Power Points to assign. We need everyone upgraded before we do anything else."
“I’ve got twelve points,” Zoe said.
“Elven,” Sasha said.
“Fourteen for me.” Eden almost seemed embarrassed by the number. “Guess I got into a few more solo scrapes by going in solo. That wasn’t the intention, though.”
“We know, Eden.” Pablo gave her a small smile. For certain, a warmer expression than he’d given Warren recently. “And I’ve got 10 points.”
“I’m sitting on 4 points after my own activities,” Warren added lamely.
“For most of us.” Pablo seemed to very deliberately not look at Warren as he cast his gaze at the women around the table. “This is the biggest single influx of points we’ve had since defeating Velgrin. I’ve been working on build-maps with all of you, but that all presumed our next big challenge would be more fighting.”
“Let me tell you that Winter Medusa bitch can fight,” Warren said.
“Not my point.”
“I think what Pablo means is that we need to weigh utility and versatility more heavily into the equation,” Eden said.
“Precisely.” Pablo nodded. “Aside from dealing with Agent Murphy, we’ve got an investigation of our own ahead of us in the city. Warren chased off the Medusa on his own and without armor. Combat powers are still important, but I’m worried we don’t have the skillsets to piece together what’s going on.”
"I agree with Paladin Pablo." Delta’s holographic head dipped in a draconic nod. "A word of caution—given the quantity of points some of you have accumulated, a gradual integration over several days would be significantly less...uncomfortable."
"We don't have several days," Pablo said. “It’s going to suck, but we need to push everything through now.”
Zoe saw Eden wince, and even Sasha's jaw tightened. They all remembered what the last rushed integration had felt like—fire in the blood, lightning in the bones, every nerve screaming in protest as the Nexus rewrote their aetheric systems.
"Very well. Just no one complain that I didn’t warn you this time," Delta said.
“We won’t, Delta.” Eden smiled fondly at the hologram.
For the sake of her own training, Zoe had learned to tolerate the often condescending and flat-out rude AI. Pablo also had learned to shrug off Delta’s lack of social graces, while Sasha and Warren both frequently bristled. Eden was the only one of them who seemed to have a cordial relationship with the probe’s governing AI.
"Initiating interface protocols."
Sections of the tabletop irised open before each of the paladins. Golden orbs rose from each open to hover before them. The spheres pulsed with inner warmth, their surfaces swirling with patterns that seemed almost alive.
Along with the others, Zoe reached out and placed her hands against her orb. Time slowed, and her body seemed to freeze in place. A glowing screen blinked into the air before her with the dragon-shaped emblem of the Paladins spinning upon it. The authentication protocol took only a few seconds to complete this time, and after it did, the expansive upgrade interface filled the screen.
The screen contained multiple panes of data, in the left-most was the beginning of the nested upgrade categories: Core Ability Enhancements, Physical Alterations, Skills and Features, Equipment Upgrades, Air Affinity Powers, Unaspected Powers, Paladin Powers, Alternative Affinities, and Other Options. Over the last four months, each of them had taken time to sit down and explore all the menus in depth.
Beside the screen, in a puff of smoke, appeared Deltey—the miniature cartoon version of Delta himself. Delta had slapped together the separate AI to coach the Paladins through their initial upgrades, and had left the program in place mostly—Zoey believed—so that Delta himself wouldn’t have to bother helping the ignorant humans himself with such a tedious chore.
Now that she was comfortable with the interface, Zoe might have preferred to deactivate Deltey altogether. His chipper demeanor and kindergarten teacher disposition made her feel like she was being guided by Elmo or Barney. However, she had already imagined the huffy response she’d get from Delta if she asked him to turn off the program. So, she continued to tolerate the little cartoon helper-bot.
"Hiya, Zoe!" Deltey waved one tiny claw. "Ready to get stronger? You've got twelve whole points to spend! That's a lot of potential!"
"Yeah, yeah." Zoe was already using mental commands to scroll through the arrayed displays, scanning through the options and considering her existing plan against what Pablo had said about them possibly needing less combat focus. "Let's make this quick."
"Okie-dokie! What do you want to start with?"
Even before Pablo’s instruction, Zoe had been thinking about this during the drive from Denny's, during the fitful hours of sleep she'd managed, and during the long minutes brewing coffee while the sky lightened outside. She knew what she needed. The question was whether she could admit why she needed it.
Start with the easy stuff, she told herself.
"Agility first," she said to Deltey. "Two more ranks."
"Ooh, great choice!" Deltey bounced in the air, bringing up the relevant displays. "That'll push you to Agility 5! You'll be super-duper graceful—"
“Can we cut down on the color commentary today?”
“Oh, well, I suppose.” Deltey’s snouted mouth managed to contort into a sad expression. “Whatever you’d like, Zoey.”
Perfect. Now you’ve hurt his simulated feelings. Zoe tried not to roll her eyes and focused on the task at hand.
"Next, I want to upgrade my Flight. You showed me before that there was an upgrade to make me quieter?"
If she were to draw a comparison to the comics, she didn’t fly like Superman—effortlessly defying gravity itself. No, she flew more like Storm from the X-Men, born aloft by howling winds. It was fun. It was exhilarating. It wasn’t very subtle.
"Silent flight, yes!" Deltey clapped his little claws together, unable to suppress his enthusiasm. If her body could have moved, she might just have swatted the little avatar away. "Perfect for sneaky-sneaky scouting missions! And just one point!"
"Add it to the list,” Zoe said. “Then I want another rank for Air Control along with the bumps to all the alternate powers tied to it."
"Stronger gusts! Better range! Another point down!" Deltey trilled.
Zoe hesitated at the next item on her mental list. This one was harder to justify tactically. Because this one was personal, but it also fit Pablo’s brief.
"I want to increase my Intellect," she said quietly. "One rank."
“As you wish. That’s two points.”
Zoe didn't explain, and Deltey didn't push. Intellect was a secondary stat for the air element; bumping it had benefits to her energy pool and recharge. A bump to it also hadn’t been on her original advancement plan, but she knew why she was doing it.
Their Nexus stat lacked what most of them would consider a Wisdom stat, which was what she really wanted to bump. Learning from her mistakes instead of repeating them. Becoming someone who considered consequences before charging in—someone who might have figured out a way to save Mark in time, might have noticed Warren pulling away, might have realized that her own reckless grief was putting everyone at risk.
You can't change the past, she thought. But maybe you can stop being such an idiot in the future.
"What else?" Deltey asked gently, seeming to have finally picked up on Zoey’s demeanor.
Zoe shook off the moment of introspection and returned to practical considerations. "I want two new alternative effects for Air Control. First: Kinetic Air Burst.”
Deltey had dug up the power for her, which was at least half the reason she hadn’t asked Delta to turn the helper bot off. The power would give her compressed micro-bubbles of air that she could detonate with concussive force. It could be an area effect attack, but unlike Warren’s Fireball, it had the Precise feature and could also be focused on a single target if needed.
"Boom-boom!" Deltey made explosion gestures with his tiny claws. "One point! And then?"
"Solid Air.”
The power still baffled her a little. It would let her create solid objects out of compressed air, forming crystalline structures with lots of versatility.
"Oooh, I was hoping you’d still take that! One point!"
"Last thing, Hush Field, but as its own power.”
Another power she’d been saving for down the road, but had bumped up in priority. A skin-tight barrier of air around her body that muffled all outgoing sound. It would let her move in complete silence. Add that with her cloaking, and she was nearly a ghost.
Deltey's eyes widened. "Nobody will hear you coming! Deadly! Two points!"
“That’s the idea.”
Deltey brought up a summary display, showing all her selections laid out in neat rows. "Here's everything! Want me to walk you through the final stats, or are you ready to integrate?"
Zoe scanned the display one more time. It wasn’t entirely what Pablo had asked for, but it was what she knew she needed.
Not bad, she thought. Not bad at all.
"Do it," she said.
"Okie-dokie! This might sting a little! Or, um, a lot! Integrating in three... two... one..."
The pain hit like a thunderbolt. Every nerve in Zoe's body ignited simultaneously. She felt her muscles tearing and rebuilding, her bones humming with frequencies that shouldn't exist, her brain expanding to accommodate new pathways and possibilities.