First, all there is, is blackness.

What?

Then slowly, small but visible… a tiny dot of light in the dark.

Where?

And then all Angel can see is light. Blinding. He raises his hands to shield his eyes and, as he moves, he feels her next to him. No touch. No visual. But he knows the Goddess known as Illyria is with him, somewhere. Unsure if he’s even physically present — he can’t feel anything — he asks aloud:

“Where are we?”

“Don’t you mean when are we?”

Angel recognises the voice and then—

Everything flips. His stomach lurches. He doesn’t know which way is up until he realises he’s leaning against something solid. His eyes adjust to the darkness. Illyria stands before him, head tilted, looking just as confused.

“Okay. When are we, Illyria?” Angel asks, nervous of the answer. “And next time you yank me across decades without my permission, at least try to aim for the evening and not the middle of the day?”

He looks up. The sun is high in the sky. Vegetation and trees surround them. He was lucky with the cave.

“My apologies, Angel,” the Old One says without turning. “I will endeavour to be more accurate next time, although in fairness, the sun is sinking.” She studies the sky, charting something only she understands. “Even if it is not where I expected it to be. Decades might be the wrong unit for how long we have travelled. I may have made… a rounding error.”

Angel watches as Illyria steps into the sunlight — and convulses. Her form collapses, replaced by Fred. Angel sighs in frustration.

“Fred, I hate to ask this, but I’ve got to talk to Illyria.” He asks if there’s any way she can bring her forth.

“I still haven’t figured that one out. Sorry. She does what she wants, when she wants.” She rubs her neck, aching without remembering why.

Angel explains that Illyria brought them back in time, but wasn’t sure when. Fred climbs the rock formation, hoping for a landmark.

At the top, she nearly slips. She steadies herself, stunned. “Angel! You’d better come and see!”

He climbs up — the sun low enough now — and stares.

“Well,” he says, looking at the valley below. “At least there’s no chance we’ll run into my younger self here.”

In the valley, marching in formation, are humanoid creatures with bone protruding through their skin. Horned. Clearly not human.

Angel wonders if they’re in another dimension. Fred shakes her head. Illyria does things for a reason — and this landscape, though unfamiliar, feels right.

Then she gasps. “This has nothing to do with your past, Angel. This is Illyria’s past!”

Angel doubts it — until a dragon swoops from the sky and nearly snatches Fred. Only his quick reflexes save her.

Covered in mud, Fred glares. “You were saying?”

Angel grins. “At least we haven’t seen any bugs yet.”

Fred rolls her eyes. “Right. Just demons and a huge monster.”

Angel asks why Illyria would bring them here. Fred suggests nostalgia — something stirred strong feelings in her, interfering with the time jump.

“If this is her past, then this is her kingdom,” Angel reasons. “The place she ruled before she was locked in the Deeper Well.”

He suggests finding shelter. Fred hesitates — something about the direction he’s heading unnerves her. She knows it’s her feeling, not Illyria’s.

Angel freezes.

“I think I know why you feel that.”

Fred follows his gaze.

A few kilometres away, something massive hovers above the treeline. Colossal. Tendrils writhing like limbs as it floats toward them and the demon colony.

“Is that—?” Fred asks.

Angel nods.

It’s Illyria, in her original Old One form, destroying everything in her path.

Fred is frozen. She’s never seen Illyria’s true form. She can only mouth wow.

Angel is concerned. “I know you could use some time, Fred – but we have so much to figure out. If what happens here has something to do with the future – my future as Angelus – or what my insect-filled vision was foretelling, we have to do something or figure out how to leave.”

Fred sighs. “Yeah, and who knows what will happen to the future if we step on a bug in the past.” She’s being serious, but she’s nervous now, and her sarcasm bites through.

Angel wonders if this Illyria will listen to reason if ‘their’ Illyria refuses to help.

But then, the voice is there. The commanding, authoritarian tone. “Don’t be foolish.“

Illyria is in the same position Fred was just crouched in. She hasn’t moved an inch.

“Do you think they called me Merciless in jest?” the Old One asks him.

“Good. You’re back. If you’re done reminiscing, could we please go home?”

And then Fred is back, sinking to the floor. “I’d love it if she gave me some warning before doing that,” she groans. Angel rushes to her side and asks if she felt anything in Illyria’s head. Fred shakes her head. “No… just that somehting happened here that she still thinks about.”

Angel moves. He turns towards the tree line. Illyria is still away in the distance. Birds and creatures are trying to escape its tentacles, failing completely. “The sooner we know what it is, the sooner we get back to solving the real problem.” He begins walking toward the trees at speed now, and for the second time in 24 hours, Fred finds herself shouting after Angel to slow down and wait for her.

They stop at the treeline, wondering which way would be the best way to go. Before they can more, the trees rustle and Angel grabs Fred, pulling her behind a tree, out of view of whatever’s approaching.

A small demon, the same species they saw earlier, but an infant. A child. As they watch on, more children come from the treeline, followed by a larger demon, clearly a female, who reminds Fred of a Nanny. Then, more adults, more woodland creatures. Dozens of different species – they all part the trees in a stampede, escaping from what’s following behind.

Fred can see that the demons are terrified, which in turn is enough to make her shiver. She turns to Angel, but he’s frozen in the spot, staring in the huge hole left by the creatures. He stares and Fred spots Illyria entering the clearing, massive, towering over a selection of demons. She picks them off, one by one, howling in rage.

Angel is grim. “Merciless is right. She’s hunting her own people.” He apologises to Fred — Illyria in this era is clearly evil.

Fred doesn’t answer. She’s staring ahead. “Well, our Illyria is trying to be considerate now. She’s warning me this time. She’s coming through.”

“And she wants you to know that these demons are not running from me,” the Old One finishes, suddenly crouched where Fred was. “Seeking shelter would not be unwise. Some of the dangers during this time are… still raw.”

Angel hears something in her voice. Hesitation. Fear?

He doesn’t get to ask.

Illyria explains she had no intention of coming here. Instead of thinking about Angel, she thought about herself — and ended up in her own past. A “slip.”

Angel softens. “So you have a few regrets? That’s nothing new. I’ve got plenty and I haven’t been around nearly as long as you.”

Illyria lands atop a fallen tree. “Yes. But now I can fix this.”

Angel stops. “What happened to fixing the future?”

“The future can wait.”

Angel is taken aback. “Now you think the future can wait? You’re not taking us home until you’ve seen this through, are you?”

Illyria turns. She smiles — the first real smile he’s ever seen from her. Beautiful. Unnerving.

“For a vampire, you are quite perceptive.”

He smiles back. “Then maybe you’d better tell me what we’re up against.”

She turns, settles before him, and begins to speak — telling Angel her tale.

“As you’ve already guessed, this is my kingdom. In this time, the oldest, strongest demon rules.

Unlike some of the Oldest Ones, I was loved as well as feared. I did not lay waste just to see land burn, or sow salt and tar for the amusement of watching small lives curl into small deaths.

I used my people as I did any resources. I shepherded them. I slaughtered them when appropriate, and I guarded them jealously. Until one day — this day — another emerged. He did not care about the boundaries of what I held.

This monstrosity had the nerve to feast on my people!

He did not even care to save the juiciest for last, or respect those that had obviously been marked as sacrifices intended for me later in the year. I fought him of course, but he was strong. And he became stronger, with each subject he consumed.

We were evenly matched. And I could not force him from my home. This went on for more than a day and a night.

It was clear that the very act of trying was causing as much destruction as this interloper had on his own. And that is when I became angry.

I was quite powerful. The land itself answered to my whims. And I would rather have seen it burn than allow it to fall to another. And so I did.”

Angel takes in her entire story and gets angry. “You killed the other demon? And all of this? Everyone who lives here? All of them?”

“Now you begin to understand. With the benefit of hindsight, my action may have been…” She stops. She points toward the horizon. “Look, it approaches. But it does not yet suspect that this time will be different. This time I will not hesitate to attack and will prevail before my past self can do further damage.”

She moves — faster than Angel can see. He yells after her to wait, but she’s already running through the undergrowth, ignoring him.

“You can’t fight that thing,” he reasons. “Not in that body, not without Fred’s consent!”

Illyria the Merciless ignores him. She grabs a large tree — far bigger than anything Fred should be able to lift — and snarls at the deformed creature approaching.

“Trespasser,” she shouts. “You will remove yourself.”

She hurls the tree at the giant creature, striking what looks to Angel like a snout — or something like one.

He watches as Illyria attacks, the creature shrieking in pain. Birds and beasts flee their nests. Angel spots a demon youth pinned beneath debris. He rushes to help, lifting the rubble and freeing him — but the child, terrified of Angel’s unfamiliar form, flees screaming.

“Sometimes, I wonder why I bother,” Angel mutters.

More tribal demons appear, armed with spears, charging toward Illyria’s battle. Angel shouts:

“You don’t have to do this! Illyria doesn’t want you to sacrifice yourselves for her!”

One demon turns — and speaks perfect English, stunning Angel.

“It is no sacrifice to lay down one’s life in honour of Illyria. This beast besmirches her land. But it must get through us before it will touch her again.”

He gestures behind him — and Angel realises they’re not talking about his Illyria. They’re defending the Old One in the distance.

Angel races toward Illyria, shouting for her to stop. He grabs her arm, forcing her to face him. Her anger is palpable.

“You’re not helping. You’re making things worse.”

She swats him aside. “If you aren’t going to fight, stay out of the way.”

Angel hits the ground hard but tries again. “Just look at what’s happening! They’re killing themselves! We’ve got to get them to stop!”

Illyria looks toward the tribe. “They’re trying to do this for me?” Her voice is confused — emotional. If Angel didn’t know better, he’d swear it was Fred’s tone.

“We can make a better plan than this,” Angel says, pulling her aside before the creature can strike again.

She withdraws. The creature rises into the sky and flies off. Illyria watches it go.

“It is no different than I remember. It cannot kill me, nor can I kill it, somehow. I thought I would be stronger now. But it will despoil my land if I do nothing. If I fight, everyone dies. If I don’t fight, everyone dies, and it only gets stronger. And if I do nothing, me-as-I-was will destroy everything!”

She’s showing more emotion than Angel has ever seen. She holds her head in her hand, eyes closed.

“Is there nothing that will avert disaster?” she asks quietly.

And then — in that vulnerable moment — she’s Fred again.

Angel is immediately at her side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Fred nods. “Whatever Illyria did, it must have taken a lot out of her. Out of me, I mean.”

Angel tells her the bigger problem: Illyria desperately wants to change something in the past. The rival demon is draining energy from consuming her followers. They worship Illyria out of fear and love. They think it’s an honour to die for her.

Fred sighs. “How do you get a people to disavow their God when she’s standing right there, in front of them?”

They’re interrupted by an angry demon — a tribesman — who demands they identify themselves. He’s returned home to find a massacre.

“And unless you explain it, you will pay for it.”

Fred insists they did nothing. Angel offers to help defeat the creature responsible.

The demon eyes them. “You certainly don’t look big enough to have caused this much damage. But I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know for sure. Humans are a lot worse than they look.” He considers taking them to his Elders.

Angel suggests they talk somewhere less exposed.

By the next afternoon, inside a cave around a fire, Fred feels almost normal again. It reminds her of Pylea.

The demon speaks. “So you’re saying the best way to honour Illyria is to do nothing?” He’s genuinely confused.

Fred suggests it may be better if they all run and hide.

“But everyone will have to do it,” Angel says. “The whole community.”

“And not just your tribe,” Fred adds. “We’ve got to convince all the tribes.”

The demon frowns. “Why doesn’t Illyria tell us this herself? How can you claim to speak for her? Why wouldn’t she choose one of her own?”

Fred doesn’t want to lie — so she gives the bare minimum. “We’re prophets. Sent to you from the future.”

She glances at Angel. He rolls with it.

“With dire warnings! But the promise of salvation!”

The demon nods slowly, beginning to understand.

“But,” Angel adds, “you can’t let a word of this reach Illyria’s ears. To truly honour her, you must let her fight her own battles.”

The demon nods proudly. “Or she will be—”

He stops. His voice begins to shake. Angel looks at him concerned.

“She’d be very angry…” And then he looks up, terrified.

Angel and Fred follow his gaze.

At the mouth of the cave, blocking their escape, stands the Old One Illyria.

And she’s very angry.