"Mr. Larson, how are you holding up?" Detective Lance inquired.

The bard sighed. "I don't know. But can I have some time alone? There is a call I need to make."

Officer Smith shook his head. "We can't leave you alone at the moment. Considering the severity this case has escalated to.; the best we can do for now is to make sure others leave you alone."

Detective Lance nodded. "The thing that shot your sister was a professional. If they were aiming to kill, your sister would be dead. Besides your actions now may help us find the person who did this."

"You don't think it was a human?" Jericho inquired suspiciously.

"I am about 70% sure it was a human, but we can't rule out other possibilities yet. So, Jericho shall we go find a quiet room for you to make your call?"

Jericho tried to suppress his anxiety. The phone call he had to make was best done privately. "Yes…"

The three walked up to the hospital counter and received permission to use a conference room. The door was closed and after confirming they were alone, they sat down in the comfortable chairs and the detective pulled out a small technological device.

Jericho searched his contacts list and found the unfamiliar one.

The device rang and the line connected. The picture of the man on the other side of the holoscreen was dark and almost not visible.

"*Grandfather.*" Jericho angrily spoke as he stared at the silhouette on the other side of the video call.

Detective Lance turned on the device he had pulled out with a frown. He had prepared this just in case Jericho was talking to a foreigner.

"*To hear from you after all of these years...*" An aged gruff yet refined voice said in the same strange tongue Gathlau had spoken.

"*I need your help,*" Jericho replied while attempting to remain calm.

The deep heavy voice spoke. "*You have needed my help for years. What's changed?*"

The bard clenched his jaw as he struggled to answer. "*The Conductor; he's back.*"

"*Oh? The one who convinced you hate yourself... and me?*"

Jericho nodded slowly.

"*Why has that b.a.s.t.a.r.d that turned you against me back? And why call me? I can still see and hear your anger.*"

"*Gathlau…*" Jericho hesitated.

"*Still can't accept the other parts of you? Do you think you are beneath others because of it? You know the only productive way forward is to accept who you are and undergo integration. Did you hate me enough to disregard everything I taught you?*"

Jericho glared. "*How can I accept them, when they are the thing I need your help with? If they are…*"

"*You are just like The Conductor,*" the old man interrupted. "*You are still blaming things that should not be blamed, Jericho. You do exist. If you didn't exist, who's to say this wouldn't still be a problem. Men like The Conductor are everywhere. You are not the only person to face this.*"

The bard felt pain in his chest as his grandfather's salty words. .h.i.t the wound he was hiding from himself.

"*Enough about that vile man though. There is something else, isn't there? Otherwise you would not have called a legally dead man in front of others,*" Grandfather Larson replied fiercely. His eyes glanced over to the two officers.

"*Moira is in the hospital.*" Jericho looked away. "*She won't be able to dance again for at least another year.*"

The line was silent for a minute. "*Now I know why Gathlau wanted you to call me. Moira has been caught in your crossfire. So what do the medical professionals recommend?*"

Jericho hesitated once more. He didn't want to admit his grandfather was right.

Grandfather Larson laughed at the irony. "*So, you really have disregarded all of my warnings and advice. The two of you are playing virtual reality games. Which ones?*"

"*Freedom,*" Jericho replied.

"*Then this will be easier.*"

"*What will?*"

"*I don't care which one of you does it, call me next Sunday.*" The line clicked.

Jericho sighed in relief as he no longer had to face his once beloved grandfather. "*I hope Gathlau is satisfied with this,*" he muttered.

"Mr. Larson, who was that?" Officer Smith inquired.

The musician turned to face the two men. "Someone who needed to know that my sister is in the hospital," he shakily replied. "Excuse me officers, I am going back to Moira's room. I suspect it will be an overnight stay based on what the doctors have told me."

Jericho and Officer Smith stood and left the detective behind.

A small notification appeared on the device Detective Lance was using. "The language/code a.n.a.lysis results are in," the machine voiced. "Would you like to hear the English translation of the conversation?"

"Share with me the results."

"Idrjflgaj…" The machine started making strange noises that definitely did not sound like English.

Detective Lance stared at the piece of tech reciting gibberish with a frown.

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***

The cemetery was quiet and peaceful. The summer heat kept most visitors away.

A young adult man with golden brown eyes and dark hair wearing a tan trench coat stood in front of two grave stones. They were inscribed: Narumi Iris Larson 2687 A.D. – 2735 A.D.: A loving mother and a beautiful dancer. Franklin Terugal Larson 2683 A.D. – 2735 A.D.: A loving father who dedicated everything he had for his family.

"I ask the spirits of nature and the guiding light to keep them safe as they face the challenges ahead of them. I ask that you guide them to where they belong. Until we meet again, may you be kept safe in the cycles of change," Mingan spoke aloud before wandering deeper into the cemetery.

He stood before another headstone It was inscribed: Miakoda Larson 2657 A.D. – 2732 A.D.: A lover of ancient traditions and loving wife.

He crouched down and gently bushed the dust off of Miakoda's headstone. "I have not forgotten my promise to you, grandmother. Even if they have forgotten, I will not. May the spirits guide you," he whispered.

Jericho opened his moist, tired eyes and stared at the hospital room ceiling. The white tiles reflected the sunrise, causing him to close them again. "I promised grandma something?" he questioned aloud as the memory seemed both familiar and unfamiliar.

"Morning, brother," Moira weakly said with a light smile from the hospital bed. "Are you alright? You were talking in your sleep."

Jericho blinked a few times to try and wake up his eyes. "Morning, Moira. I'm okay, all things considered. How are you feeling?"

The girl gave a mocking chuckle. "Probably about the same as you if you were told you couldn't touch any instruments for a whole year."

Jericho's hand gripped and released like he was squeezing an invisible stress ball. He slumped forward in the chair he had slept in. "I know, and I'm sorry."

"I'm not blaming you," she paused. "Or Gath," she continued.

A nurse lightly knocked on the room door as she entered. "Mr. Larson, your sister has been cleared to go home today. We have already packaged the supplies needed for her to do school from home and for the gaming pod to keep her body taken care of. The nurse androids will help you put it all where it belongs. When you are ready to head home, signal one of the nurses. And, Mr. Larson; please remember to stop by or request delivery once a week to obtain a fresh batch of supplies," she interrupted before leaving.

Jericho gave a nod to the nurse. "Ready to leave this place?" he asked his sister.

She hit the call b.u.t.ton and the nurse who just left quickly returned with a specialized wheelchair.

Back at home, Moira stared at her dejected brother. "Jericho, play me something while they get things set up," she ordered.

The bard nodded and slowly went into the other room. He drug out a large harp and gently plucked the strings.

The sound of a trash bag smacking against the open air and broken gla.s.s disrupted the tranquility of the music.

Jericho closed his eyes to focus. Despite the annoying distractions of the wind and sounds of people and androids working, he continued to play.

Moira resisted the urge to cry as she listened to her brother's melody. She still had a headache from yesterday. She believed that if she kept herself driven and focused, she would not fall into despair.

Seeing the two playing, the installers waited to speak.

The piece ended. The silence was disrupted once again by the noise of the intensifying wind shaking the patch on the broken window.

The team leader came forward. "It is prepared. She can now stably stay in the game pod for an extended period of time without needing to leave. Follow us, we will show you how to hook into it."

The workers demonstrated the marvelous, easy to use, technology and departed the Larson residence.

Moira smiled at her brother. "Take the time you need but hurry up. I'll meet you in game."

Jericho lightly chuckled. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

The girl frowned. "What?"

"School; you still have to take your cla.s.ses. They linked your gaming pad to your school work. I'll see you in-game after you finish that."

"Fine; just don't take too long to come back. I want to listen to more of your music," she ordered as she rested in the game pod and hooked up the various pieces of technology.

The capsule closed and Jericho was left standing in her room alone.

A light knock was heard at the open door. "Mr. Larson!" a random officer called out.

Jericho walked out of his sister's room to talk with the hardworking people. "Yes?" he asked.

"The surveillance system has been put up. Rest a.s.sured, for now, you can go back to your life like normal. We will find who committed this crime."

Jericho gave a nod. "Thank you. You should get some rest too."

They said their goodbyes and Jericho closed the door. "That is what they said last time too." He closed his eyes.

Gathlau opened his eyes. "Let's get to work, Jericho. We have an alb.u.m to write. The debt isn't going to pay itself off."

-Right…- Jericho thought back as he watched Gath control their body.

The man grabbed a few instruments and took them to his recording room. He slipped on his earpiece metronome. The ticking was paced at 140 BPM. "The drums first; the alphorn was only to mitigate the fact they only had ceremonial drums instead of a full set," he said before before hitting the start key.

The musician's tension eased as he recorded himself multiple times. "Finally, the feeling is right," he said with a smile. The drums were wheeled away and his acoustic guitar rested on his lap. The strumming and plucking of two different guitar parts were soon recorded.

Jericho's eyes lightened. "Thanks Gathlau," he said now that he felt in the zone once more.

Gathlau smiled in their mind-s.p.a.ce, thinking that music was the only area Jericho really appreciated him.

The bard continued his recordings until all the sections were ready to be pieced together. Jericho felt light. The emotional pain of the events the day before seemed to weigh less on his conscious mind. He looked at the time. "3:50 ish? Not bad at all. Now all I need is to record one more thing, extract the recording of the dance from the game, and combine it."

While he was contemplating the line dance, the doorbell rang.

Jericho stood and walked towards the door. He opened it and stared at the two youth s.h.i.+vering on his doorstep.

Alexander spoke first. "Is Moira okay? She wasn't at school today."

Kenneth nodded "Yeah, we were worried," he voiced with chattering teeth.

"Come in and sit down." Jericho motioned. "The wind is freezing today."

The two 12 year olds sat down in the slightly warmer house.

Jericho pulled out some milk and hot chocolate mix. He warmed them up and brought the two hot cups to the boys.