“This is what it looks like,” Sig said, handing over the page where he had drawn a picture of the flower he wanted the scouting party—the children—to find. He wanted to go himself, to search for the flower, to seek help in a nearby town, but he had to stay where he was needed. “There may not be many,” he warned, “this close to winter.”
“How much do you know?”
The man in the long dark maroon coat swept toward Mick. The visit was expected, but not at that hour. Mick thought the man would show up the next day. That was, in fact, why he was in the lab at that late hour in the first place. He wanted to get some things done so he would have time for the new project that his boss had dropped on him that day. Said new project being the man in the dark maroon coat.
She was poor, so poor. And she was weak from hunger. Almost too weak to beg. Her mother was sick, her father gone to war, his fate unknown, and her two younger brothers were starving. Despite all this, when a traveling circus came through the nearby town, Irina went to visit, hoping to see wonders.
His name was Tantalus, but he had forgotten that name. He had forgotten what he had done to earn the eternal torment he suffered in the place of punishment, the realm known as Tartarus.