Prologue by:   awells@cycor.ca (Andrew Bruce Wells)

Time: Some odd months after the suspension

Walter Lankowski could see himself pacing soundlessly through the misted land.  The fog curled around his feet and ankles as he moved towards the one thing that stood out as far as his eyes reached.  He arrived at the tree in an unknown period of time.

Now there was a sound; the even pounding that was his heart trying to escape from his dream body.  He looked into the tree, as he knew he had to; there she was!  The snow white form of a huge northern owl stared down into his eyes from among the branches.  As there eyes met, there was an exchange of something deeper than most mortals can comprehend.  These two shared a connection that binds their destinies together.

In an instant the huge bird lifted off the branch, and launched herself toward the man she once knew.  One sound escaped the mouth of the ghostly crater, more of a bestial “squawk” than anything else, but Walter understood, and the words echoed in his ears...

 “BEWARE”

Jerking awake, brow covered in sweat,  Walter Lankowski knew that this wasn't just a dream...” 

Chapter 1: “A Dream Continues” 
Written by: Wngtom@compuserve.com (Sue Wong) 

  Across the continent, Elizabeth Twoyoungmen awoke at the same instant Langkowski had. In her dream, she had seen the ghostly snowy owl launch itself at Langkowski, hissing, “Beware!” But where Langkowski's dream ended, Elizabeth's continued.
 The snowy owl turned from Langkowski to address Elizabeth in a woman's voice. The breathy voice that had once belonged to the demi-goddess, Narya.
 “Talisman... I feel I must warn you. The Great Beasts are going to rise again, and soon. I wish that I could help you... my son and I... but we are trapped here beyond the pale.”
 “Yeah, like I don't know that,” Liz muttered sarcastically. Only
she could talk like this to Snowbird, and get away with it. Her power was that great. “Well, what can _I_ do to help?”
 “Gather the rest of the Flight, especially Shaman. Take them to the Eye of the World....”
    “What, there again?” Liz remembered what happened the last time they had been there. They had gone into the realm of the gods to save Langkowski's soul, and only after she, Northstar, and Aurora had been nearly killed, had they succeeded. When they had left the large crater, Liz had secretly hoped she would never have to see it again.
    “Indeed, there.” The snowy owl's form melted, flowed upwards, and became that of an unearthly lovely pale-blonde woman. She looked down at Talisman sternly. “You are the only one who has the power to bring myself and my son back into the world to fight the Beasts. When the gods allowed our deaths, they never anticipated something like this occurring. You must help us to come back to Earth. To defeat the Beasts together with the Flight. And perhaps to stay....”
    “I'm...not sure....” Liz faltered. “Maybe we should let sleeping
demi-gods lie....”
    “Considering the circumstances, you may have no choice. And there is a great debt you owe me.”
  “And that is....?”
  “My son's birth.”
 “Ouch.” Liz flinched at that. It had been her interference that had
caused Snowbird's son's life-force to be robbed by a zombie. A twisted series of circumstances had led to the deaths of Snowbird, her human husband Doug Thompson, and their small son before the zombie Pestilence had been defeated. Liz had never stopped feeling guilty over this, particularly that Snowbird's second-generation demi-god son had never had the chance to prove his powers. And Liz sensed that the son's powers might be considerable.
 “You must not shirk your duty, Talisman. Contact your father as soon as you awake. And others who have had experience with magical powers or with me. Walter Langkowski. And Eugene Milton Judd.... I believe he is in the land called Tibet.... he is in contact with great mysticism....”
 “Well, every little bit helps.” Liz smiled. “Isn't there somebody else you want me to call?”
 But the dream images were already fading....
 

Chapter 2: “Gatherings.”
Written by: Adam-X@juno.com

 The airport was unusually busy. His eyes darted here and there,
nervously seeking someone. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was sure that it would explode soon...
 His name is Michael. More commonly known as Shaman. Tonight, he is meeting his daughter, Elizabeth... more commonly known as Talisman. Together they make up a portion of Canada's only - and disbanded team - Alpha Flight. Neither has done much since Alpha Flight was broken up... Shaman thought back only a few weeks. “Well, friend Logan,” he told himself. “What I wouldn't do to have your heightened senses here tonight...”
 “Father!” a familiar voice called. Michael turned around, and saw
Elizabeth rushing towards him, breaking through the crowds. Her arms flung around her father... and Michael heaved a heavy sigh. He and his daughter had suffered much... endured more than any father and daughter ever should have... and at times, Elizabeth was quite well known for showing off her bitterness...
Thankfully, tonight wasn't one of those times...
 ....Yet.
 “I've missed you,” she said, kissing him gently on the cheek. She felt her cheek, and her eye brows came together. “Wrinkles?”
 “Time passes by, we all get older,” Michael answered with a weak smile. “Not even my magic can keep me young forever. But,” he said, waving away her concern. “I know why you're here...”
 “You do?” she asked, pulling away, somewhat puzzled.
 “My dreams have been plagued by images... of death.”
 People were slowing down.... listening to them. “This isn't the place to talk,” Elizabeth added hastily.
 They left the airport... little words being exchanged. When they arrived at a small little cafe, the words came forth again. “So what do you see in your dreams?” Elizabeth asked, whispering gently.
 “The land... it shapes... and moves... like the waves of the sea... a hand... made of stone... rock... death... blocks out the sun... death... decay... sweep the land... pestilence... then, when all seems lost... a shining light... strong and furious breaks through the hand... letting sun shine... letting hope come forth... the savior... a Large White Owl... I ... I...”
 He faulted. Elizabeth did little to urge him on, and when he finally did not say a word, she smiled. “You think it's Snowbird, don't you...”
  He looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. “I have... hoped it was...” Something else was behind her father's eyes tonight. His tears.... tainted with something other than disturbed dreams....
 

Chapter 3: “Devolution”
Written by: lin128@chardonnay.niagara.com
 
  The air was cool and icy over the sleeping city of Winnipeg.  A thin man  with mahogany skin and tightly beaded hair walked casually to the steps of  the country's finest maximum security prison unfettered by both the warning  beeps of angry tracking systems and the unflappable cold.  He paused on the  frozen lawn, pulled out his gun, waving it in the air and then started  shouting loudly.  “Hey!  Hey!” he screamed into the wind, “are you drunk? Hey!”
  “Excuse me sir,” the flashlight reflected off the strange man's mirrored  sunglasses as the portly security guard announced his presence, “this area  is property of the RCMP, and is a no-trespass zone.  How did you get over  the perimeter walls?”
    “By not going over,” the black man's voice was as cool as the night air.  “You see my good fellow I'm here for the party.”
    “You are mistaken sir, this is the Marie D'Arcadia Maximum Security  Prison, there are no ..”
 “Guests of honor!  Oh you're quite right, but they'll not be here till oh  five days.  I'm here to prepare for their grand arrival.”
 “Sir you are ..”
 “Devolution!”
 “I beg your ..”
 “Forgiveness for not mentioning my name before.  Devolution I am.”
 “You are ..”
 “Not human, yes that's right I'm not.  As my name suggests I am
 unfortunately but a step behind mankind.”  He grinned broadly, “though I am  a step, a single step before the beasts!”  He broke into laughter, laughter  louder than anyone the guard had heard laugh before.  Then the hysterical  man began to jump and prance all over, emitting wild screaming laughter.
 The guard was shaken but did not fail to pursue the bouncing man.  In his  clumsiness he dropped his flashlight and the screaming man grabbed it.  The  guard drew his gun, waving it around in the air and then started shouting.  “Hey! Hey!” he screamed into the wind, “are you drunk or something?  Hey!”
 “Excuse me sir,” the flashlight reflected off the guard's silver
 sunglasses as the black man announced his presence. “This area is property  of the RCMP, and this is a no-trespass zone.  How did you get over the  perimeter walls?”
 “By not going over,” the guard's voice was as cool as the night air.  “You  see my good fellow, I'm here for the party ..”
 A squad of eighteen burly riot-cops moved like a herd of bison towards the  east lawn dispatched to investigate an undetermined threat that had set off  a good number of alarms.  What they found was security guard O'Malley  jumping and prancing all over, emitting wild screaming laughter. 
 “It was him,” said one of the younger cops, “the crazy fool tripped off  all those alarms himself!”
 The captain of the squad advanced towards the hysterical guard, a  flashlight beam illuminated his face.
 “Excuse me sir,” announced O'Malley, “this area is property of the RCMP,  and this is a no-trespass zone ..”
 Leaning casually against a reinforced wall well inside the outdoor  security parameters the black man watched as the riot squad escorted the  mind-wrecked O'Malley back indoors.  He casually waved good bye to the  raving guard and felt a small twinge of pity for O'Malley now that his mind  was a ruin.
 Oh well, progress can't be stopped, he thought to himself, de-evolution  begins!
 

Chapter 4: “Tibet.”
Written by: sengmah@iinet.net.au (Seng Mah)

  If the village had a name, it was not important. Perched high on a Himalayan scarp, it was nothing more than a collection of shacks huddled on a narrow strip of flat ground, the mountain trail the only means into and out of the settlement. The villagers herded sturdy mountain goat for milk and fleece, and grew what stunted crops that could flourish in the rarefied air and rocky ground. Mostly, they spun wool and tanned leather from their goats, and traded these with the lowland settlements. Life was simple, easy, dignified.
The train of saffron-robed priests descended the mountain trail from the monastery behind the village. They bore a body wrapped in a shroud of deeper saffron, secured to a makeshift bier. This was clearly a funeral, yet none of those accompanying the deceased showed signs of grief. Even the villagers who walked with the train remained impassive. In their understanding, this
was not a passing, for the lama dies, but somewhere, perhaps in another village, perhaps soon in this one, a new child will be born and it will be the incarnation of the lama's soul.
  With the monks walked a foreigner, though none with him would consider him foreign to these parts. He wore the garb of a mountain peasant: woolen jacket, thick trousers and a cap to warm his head. At 3 feet 6 inches in height and built like a brick outhouse, he stood out in the procession, yet walked along with the train as if he was as much a part of it as the chanting monks. He too chanted, the words of the funereal litany spilling naturally from his lips.
  Finally, he stopped with the procession at the base of the mountain trail as the monks prepared the body for burial in the bit of loose ground outside the village. A hole had been dug by the village gravediggers and sanctified by the proper rituals. The body was lowered into the grave and the petals of mountain wildflowers thrown in to sweeten it's journey into decay and assimilation with the earth. When it came his turn to scatter the petals, Eugene Judd moved to the edge of the grave. “Master Nanda,” he whispered, “I hope to see you again in this life, or perhaps the next time round,” and let the petals fall from his thick, nubby fingers.
  The procession withdrew, leaving the gravediggers to finish their work.
  Judd did not follow the monks back into the temple. There would be more prayer, more contemplation, but he did not feel like taking part in them. The Great Wheel of Life turns and all is reborn in one form of another. Yet, he could not avoid feeling a pang of sadness at Nanda's passing. The old lama had been teacher, mentor, friend, and Judd missed him. Perhaps he would be the one tasked to find the child who would be the lama reborn, or perhaps the responsibility would fall on another. They would find out in the night, when the soul beckoned its searchers through the realm of dreams.

  Chief McCauley was having a bad day, and it did not look like it was going to get any better. The burly riot-policeman had spent a frustrating two hours trying to interview Officer O'Malley, but it was a futile exercise. The man was clearly demented. McCauley suspected metahuman involvement. He had always harbored a deep suspicion of metahumans since the incident in Toronto with the junior branch of the then-official government superhuman team: Alpha Flight. Some purple-skinned girl had taken over his mind that night, just so that her team could gain access into the chemical plant where the son of the Jackal was holding some civilians hostage. And there had been the ape-man and the pink blob.* McCauley shook his head violently, ridding himself of those memories. Why dwell in the past?
  Now back at the scene of the crime, McCauley had hoped to find some trace of the metahuman who was responsible for all of this, but it was again an exercise in futility and frustration. If a metahuman was responsible, he covered his tracks faultlessly. The Chief was so consumed in his own thoughts that he did not notice the approach of a thin, sallow-complexioned man behind him until the man spoke with a badly accented French accent.
  “Excuzee me?”
  McCauley rounded on the man, surprised and angry that he had been surprised so easily. The man blinked. He looked Chinese or Korean, or Japanese, though McCauley couldn't care less. The man should not be here. He informed the man of this in no uncertain terms.
  “Oh I zee,” the man said. “I waz hoping to meet a friend here.”
  “Yeah, well, not here, buddy,” McCauley growled. “No one here but us cops.”
  “I zee,” the man nodded. “Well, I think thiz friend haz been here.”
  McCauley's hackles rose. This might be a lead. He shifted his bulk towards the man. “Oh yeah?”
  “Yez,” the man eyed McCauley intently, as if studying a specimen. “I think you might be able to help.”
  McCauley opened his mouth, a question already ready, but a strange lethargy gripped his mind. He felt a numbness spread over his brain, an all-too familiar sensation and he felt himself cursing the purple-hued girl for nor apparent reason. Dimly, he wondered if there would a splitting headache like the last time when all this wore off... if it wore off.
  The sallow man smiled at McCauley standing stock still where he had stopped. “Yez, you will do just fine. Now, follow me.”
  The big Chief lumbered after him like an obedient hound.

  That night, Judd tossed about his sleeping mat unable to sleep. The monastery was silent save for the rush of wind on the rooftops. Finally giving up any attempt at gaining slumber, he got up and lit a candle, and spent moments staring into its steady flame, trying to calm down. He could not understand why he should feel so restless and distracted.
  Abruptly, contact was made. He saw the young woman within the halo of the candle flame.
  “Elizabeth?” he spoke aloud.
  The woman nodded, then gestured with her hand. The flame flickered, rose and writhed into life.
  “I understand,” Judd said to the flame. “But I cannot. I have another duty, eh.”
  The flame dimmed, then sputtered back into life.
  “Hey now, no need to get angry,” Judd chuckled. “Let me explain...”
  The flame danced intoxicatingly.
  “You mean..? Why didn't you say so?” Judd rose and gathered his clothes. “I'll be there soon as I can.”
  Hurriedly, he threw on his garments and gathered his belongings. Within minutes, he had found one of the monks and explained his situation, his task. The old monk smiled knowingly and put a hand on Judd's shoulder.
   “It is good that you have been chosen, my friend,” the monk said. “Go with our blessing. Find and return our esteemed lama to us. Let the circle be complete once more.”
 

Chapter 5: “Help!”
Written by:  ellefson@winternet.com (Amy Ellefson)

  After a good nights sleep at Elizabeth's apartment, Shaman was ready to go.
  “Elizabeth, you must gather the rest of Alpha Flight, for if we are to go back into the Eye of the world, we shall need all the....”
  “I know what to do, Dad.”
  *thinking*  Still such bitterness in her, after all time.  But I must not concern myself with that right now, I've more pressing matters.  “I will meet you back here in a day, I have some...old friends to find.”
  After a long ride Shaman had reached his destination, New York City.  Instead of using a phone book, like most people in New York trying to look up an old friend would do, he simply follows the strong mystic beacon to down town, in a funny looking old building.  “Hello?”
  “Hello, Michael.  I have prepared for your coming.” 
  “Of course, how would something get though the attention of Sorcerer Supreme.  But time is of the essence. Come, we must gather other mystics.  Next is the Scarlet Witch.” As Shaman reaches in his poach to teleport the two away, Strange stops him. 
“Have you not heard, my friend?  Along with many of her fellow Avengers and the Fantastic Four, she perished at the hands of a beast named Onslaught.  As for other Mystics, if not the combined power of the Talisman, the Sorcerer Supreme, and the mighty Shaman are not up to the task, what would be?” 
  “You are right, let us go back to my daughters apartment,”
.....as the two mystics leave, a man walk out of the shadows, and laughs.