a broadcast from the sentinels [ 11:11 PM - the wishing hour. when weary eyes glance at red numbers glinting from digital clocks; then flit to the sky to call upon those universal pulls. static melts away. two voices, taunting. konos is the first to speak. kryptos follows.]
❝ Well, well, well. Wasn’t that a merry little time, Kryptos? ❞
❝ Certainly, though I daresay that others mightn’t agree with you, Komos. ❞
❝ Like whom? ❞
❝ Rigby, for instance. Poor little Rigby. I would suggest Hermosa’s resident witch tend to the local park, were she not busy with her new playmate. ❞
❝ You mean her cat? ❞
❝ Oh, but which one? Curious little things, cats are. ❞
❝ Speaking of curious. Is our little Liddell digging just a pinch too deep? ❞
❝ Or not deep enough. ❞
❝ I’m intrigued, Kryptos. Very intrigued. What might she find? What might she be allowed to find? ❞
❝ We shall simply have to wait and see. ❞
