Iliana wrote the Prologue of this story. Chapters One and Two are written by Iliana with some scenes by Qirien. Chapters Three and Four belong to Cor Dazar. Chapter Five contains writing by Iliana and Davian, and Chapter Six is by Qirien and Iliana. Qirien wrote the Epilogue. HTML layout by Iliana.

Grinning, Andrea looked up from her laptop.

"May I help you?", she asked the young man standing inside the doorway. He smiled widely and replied,

"Actually, uh, yes . . . I think my disk is stuck in the drive. It won't come out. Will you help me?"

Rising from the lab attendants' desk, she said, "Nice try, Wes-chan. The day you need my help for a computer problem is the day Bill Gates will knock on our door to inform us he has a grant for us." The two embraced, and kissed lightly.

"Well, I just thought I'd come see how my future wife is doing."

"Oh, you know, saving the world, as usual." She smiled into his eyes.

"Is that so, Qirien? You don't need any help?"

"If you're offering, I'll take all the help I can get."

The Netland White Tower had been a safe haven for Mike, and now he was gone. Hopefully he wouldn't fall victim of the unknown drawing it seemed to have on people who leave. During his time there he learned many things about himself, human nature, and how to mix drinks, but most importantly he learned how to love. As he sat in front of his computer for countless hours, feeling high-strung emotions, good and bad, he often wondered why, but it never ceased to amaze him how many people he could get mad, sad, happy or just overall emotional. As he made the decision to leave, a hard one it is, he only had one wish, that he wasn't forgotten, and never will be.

~freedom fighters sent out to the sun, escape the brainwashed minds and pollution, leave the earth to all its sin and hate, find another world where freedom waits~

It is funny, Sel thought, how things can change so much so fast. Not only in the Tower, but in life around her, she saw familar patterns upset, confusion, fear, and, perhaps, hope. One's last year in high school is always a time of upheaval. More than just that, Sel had watched tragedy and war, dealt with a loss of a good friend, learned to build her own foundations as walls crumbled around her. Time, with inexorable step, had awoken calm Complacency from where she lay. Chaos would reign for a time, perhaps, but within the debris of each collapse lay the seeds of new birth. And perhaps a new life could begin where an old one had ended. Or an old life continued in a new environment. Or both. : )

Sel glanced at her computer's clock. Once again, she had overrun her self-imposed time limit. She really would have to work on her willpower and self-discipline. With a small sigh, she quickly finished up the last of her emails and shut the computer off with a decisive click of her mouse. No doubt she'd break her goal of _controlled_ computer use later that day, but she'd get some schoolwork done first, at least. With that, she turned and settled down to panicking about her Organic Final.

After sending this post to Iliana, Hannah will proceed to delete all the NWT/BT/Gaidar Central stuff off her computer and forget about their respective URLs.

That way maybe she will have half a chance of passing her exams which are less than a fortnight away.

She will pass (I hope), just barely, and resolve to study hard for the remainder of her Science degree. Then she'll do much the same as Alethahea, in that she hope to settle down into a stable job, probably in the country (Australian Outback) and eventually have a family, maybe (subject to change without notice).

Byebye everyone... might see you on ICQ... When I get back on the 'puter (we're talking years here) UIN's: 3958680, 5813181, 31384653. Being Istalka, Alethahea and Paetram respectively. c'ya

A photograph on the dresser caught Jenny's eye as she shifted the weight of her backpack. She picked it up and brushed away the dust. Faces smiled up at her, and she couldn't stop a giggle. There they were, standing under a tree, arranged for some reason in order of descending height: Mingar the Aielman, Qirien the Amyrlin Seat, Wolfbrother Lyrax, and Keeper Iliana. Looking considerably less dignified, and more comical, than their titles sounded. Jenny suspected her confusion over Chris' identity was going to be permanent; he would be Mingar the Aiel warrior forever in her eyes.

Later that afternoon Andrea had nearly run Chris over while backing the car out of the garage. "What was Mingar doing back there behind the car?" she had exclaimed.

Chuckling to herself, Jenny tucked the photo into the drawer and looked at her reflection. She winced as the top of her pack's aluminum frame bumped against her head. Keeper Iliana would never carry all of her possessions on her back when she traveled. But then, Keeper Iliana was a fiction. Jenny, on the other hand, was alive.

She snatched the sunglasses from the dresser and perched them on her head. With a last smile in the mirror, Jenny went outside to meet the cab.

Trying on the name of Cor Dazar one last time, wondering what new name he might some day take on Bill wrote the finishing touches on his part of the vast farewell fanfic taking place. It seemed ages since he had joined the tower. Much longer than the year or so that it had been. Looking about the room he remembered that he still had math to do and finals to study for. A disk marked with a green label caught his eye. Reaching towards it. A whole new world that no one but himself had yet experienced rushed back into his head. Names and words from another language sprang up in his mind.

He hadn't worked on his story in weeks. He felt bad about it but other things had been getting in his way. Just before grabbing the disk he pulled his hand back. Thinking about the previous events that had taken place in his life his face broke into a dreamy grin. He shook his head and wondered once again about the unpredictability of life.

The thought of math once again popped into his head. Muttering, he reached for his green school binder and painfully he ignored his green writing notebook and the green folder holding many of his notes on his story. He tore a piece of paper from the back of his binder. Grabbing up his pencil from the desk and opening his math book he set to work. Thoughts of NWT and any other worlds once again faded back into the dark realms of his imagination waiting to be released once again when they got their chance.

Brian watched the screen go blank. The last chapter of Rillian was written. His story was done. Brian turned back to his quizzes, knowing he had better not fall behind in his grading with finals coming up. It still amazed him that 8th and 9th graders had so much trouble spelling.

Pausing for a moment, he looked back up at the dark screen. Something about the dull face of the monitor kept distracting him from his work.

"...there are other worlds than this" -- where had he read that? A Stephen King book -- The Gunslinger, perhaps?

His concentration broken, he pushed his work aside. Reaching down, he pressed the button that caused the monitor to flare back to life. Two clicks of a mouse later and he was staring at a white page, marred only by the rhythmic flashing of the cursor.

Was it time? Dare he make the leap? He reached down and pulled from his bookshelf a worn, tattered journal. Inside lay years of notes, taken by a hopeful boy that would one day create his own worlds. How long had it been since he had written anything? How long since he had even looked inside?

These quizzes aren't going to grade themselves... he reminded himself. Putting the journal back in it's place on the shelf, he turned back to his work. Not today. Someday perhaps...