CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
OLIVIA
T he grip of the black-clad warriors on our arms was unyielding as Roman and I were propelled through a maze of opulence, only to be thrust into a room utterly devoid of such splendor. The door slammed shut behind us, the echo bouncing off cold stone walls. We found ourselves in a barren cell, the air stale and suffocating. Harsh light slanted through a narrow-slit window, illuminating swirling dust motes but offering no warmth to the lifeless gray stones surrounding us. The room was empty, devoid of comfort, with nowhere to sit but the cold, unforgiving floor.
My heart thundered in my chest, each frantic beat a reminder of our peril. My fingers twisted together, knuckles white, betraying the fear I couldn’t suppress. I pressed my back against the icy wall, hoping to draw strength from its solidity. Closing my eyes, I tried to find solace in the stillness within, a fragile attempt at meditation to calm the rising panic in my throat.
The minutes crawled by, each one stretching unbearably. As I sat in the damp, cramped cell, my mind wandered to my babies—Luna and Rosie. Were they safe? Did they know how much I loved them? The thought of them in this wretched place tore at me, shredding what little composure I had left.
The door creaked open suddenly, jolting me back to reality. Reyna’s shadowed figure filled the doorway. Her presence, though familiar, stirred more unease than comfort. She stepped into our bleak prison, her movements hesitant, her eyes darting around as though afraid to be caught.
“What are you doing here?” Roman snapped.
“I came to help,” she said, her voice trembling as she stood in the dim light.
Roman scoffed and turned away, his disgust palpable. “You’ve done enough. You brought us here, Reyna. You set us up.”
“I didn’t think it would go this way,” she whispered, wringing her hands. “I didn’t think my father would attack you.”
“Spare me your excuses,” Roman said bitterly, refusing to look at her.
Reyna flinched at his words, but before she could respond, I spoke up, my voice fragile but insistent. “Reyna.” She turned to me, and I forced myself to meet her gaze. “Please, let me see my babies before we face these challenges. Just once. Please.”
Her lips parted as if to reply, but she hesitated. Guilt flickered in her eyes before she shook her head, her gaze falling to the floor. “I can’t do that,” she murmured. “My father would kill me if he found out.”
“Please,” I said, my voice now edged with desperation. “I need to see my babies!”
My vision blurred as I fought back tears, unwilling to appear weak in front of this woman who held the keys to my children’s safety.
“They are well,” Reyna replied curtly, though her voice lacked conviction.
“Please, Reyna. We might not survive these tests. Please ,” I begged, the foreign tone of pleading staining my words. Pride was a small sacrifice for the chance to see Luna and Rosie.
Roman squeezed my shoulder gently, a silent gesture of support.
The silence stretched like an endless abyss, tension thickening with each passing second. Finally, Reyna’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly.
“All right,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it has to be quick. And if anyone finds out?—”
“Thank you,” I breathed out, relief washing over me for the first time since we’d been dragged from Pasha Hassan’s office.
Hand in hand, Roman and I followed Reyna down the dimly lit hallway, our footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floor. Roman’s grip was firm, his warmth seeping into my trembling hand—a lifeline amidst the storm of fear and uncertainty swirling inside me.
Reyna led us through the dimly lit passageway to an ornately carved door, its ancient wood groaning softly as it swung open. The chamber beyond was a stark contrast to the cold, unyielding stone of the tunnels. Soft golden lanterns cast a warm glow over plush white carpets, while murals of enchanted forests and mythical creatures adorned the walls, their colors vivid despite the absence of natural light. The air carried the gentle hum of lullabies, a fragile peace that felt almost otherworldly in the depths of the underground.
Two women stood near the center of the room, their faces etched with a maternal kindness that momentarily eased the ache in my chest. One gently rocked a cradle, her voice a soothing melody as she sang. Inside, little Luna’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her tiny form a picture of serenity.
“Rosie,” I whispered, my voice swallowed by the sheer relief that flooded me.
At the sound of my voice, Rosie looked up from her play mat, where she sat amidst a legion of carved wooden horses. Her little fingers held a clay whistle. With a squeal of joy, she abandoned her toys and sprinted toward Roman and me, her arms outstretched.
“This place is wonderful,” she said, wrapping her small arms around my legs. “I have new toys. I’m taking care of baby Luna.” She looked up at Roman and beamed.
“That’s wonderful,” he said, his voice soft yet warm. “I have no doubt you’re doing an excellent job.” He crouched and tousled her curly hair, his eyes growing moist as he gazed at her.
Kneeling, I leaned over the cradle and tenderly kissed Luna’s sweet face, feeling the warmth of her innocence against my lips. I turned and held out my arms to Rosie. Embracing her, I felt her tiny frame tremble slightly against mine, but her twinkling eyes and contagious giggle shielded her from the gravity of our situation. She hugged me fiercely, then pulled away. “Look at how fast my horse can run,” she said, holding up the wooden equine and galloping it through the air with neighing noises.
“Your horse is like the wind,” Roman said, sweeping his arm dramatically.
“She’s so fast!”
“This one’s a boy horse, Roman. You’re so silly.” Rosie giggled, her little nose wrinkling in delight.
“My apologies,” Roman said, nodding solemnly. “It’s obvious your horse is a boy.”
Rosie’s laughter rang out again, filling the room with a melody of innocence that momentarily drowned out the weight of reality pressing down on us.
Despite the gilded cage surrounding us, her laughter brought a fleeting moment of joy. Yet, beneath that facade of happiness, a chilling fear coiled in the depths of my heart, a reminder of the trials we would soon face. These precious moments with my children were as fragile as glass, threatening to shatter under the weight of the tests looming ahead.
“Promise me you’ll take good care of Luna,” I said to Rosie, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart heavy with the uncertainty of what would come.
She nodded earnestly, her curls bouncing. “I will, Olivia. I promise.”
But then her little face scrunched with worry, and her innocent question struck like a dagger. “When will I get to see Malik?”
“Malik is on an adventure,” I said softly, forcing a smile that felt as fragile as glass. “You’ll get to see him soon.” The words tasted like ash, but I pushed them out, desperate to comfort her.
Hope flickered in her eyes for a moment, but it quickly gave way to tears. “I want to see my Malik!” she wailed, her small frame trembling with sobs that echoed the fear I fought to suppress.
“Shh, love,” I soothed, gathering her close and stroking her hair. “I promise you’ll see him again.”
The promise rooted itself deep within me, a vow to face whatever horrors lay ahead, no matter the cost. My determination solidified like steel, an unyielding armor to shield us from the dangers looming over our family.
“Olivia,” Reyna interrupted, her voice urgent. “We have to get back.”
I gently kissed Rosie’s forehead, my heart weighed down by a sense of impending separation. My eyes swept over the peaceful nursery, taking in every detail one last time. Then I turned to baby Luna, nuzzling my nose against her tiny one and planting kisses on her soft, velvety cheeks. The quiet stillness of this moment would have to be my source of strength as I faced the difficult trials ahead.
We scurried down the dimly lit hall, our heads bowed in deference. Reyna guided us to the doorway of the dank room.
The children’s memory was all I had to give me hope and the will to succeed. I reached for Roman’s hand and squeezed it.
“Rosie and Luna look well cared for,” Roman said.
“They do,” I replied, my voice cracking.
The door burst open with a resounding crash. Three warriors cloaked in black swarmed into the room. Their heavy steps echoed on the stone floor as they advanced. The tallest among them gripped a large hourglass in his hand, its sand shifting and swirling ominously.
My heart lurched in my chest, knowing this was the final countdown. The air was thick with tension and the acrid smell of metal and leather.
It was time to face our first challenge.
One of the guards stepped forward, his voice a deep rumble that echoed through the chamber. His eyes, cold and unyielding, settled on us as he spoke.
“You must enter the snake pit, find the largest one, drain its venom, and pour it into a chalice. Fail, and you will not leave this pit alive.” The guard’s smirk was barely noticeable, but the challenge was clear.
Roman’s hand, rough and calloused from years of wielding a sword, felt like a lifeline in mine as we were ushered into the serpent’s den deep in the bowels of the underground palace. The room was suffocating, the air heavy with an earthy stench that turned my stomach. Dull torchlight flickered against the stone walls, casting elongated shadows that danced macabrely across the floor—a floor that writhed and pulsed with the sinuous bodies of countless snakes.
My breath hitched at the sight of them, each creature a master of death in its own right. Memories of Seattle and Lee’s teachings surged through me—spot the gleam of danger in an animal’s eye or the subtle warning signs in their stance. Those lessons, once tucked away in the recesses of my mind, now resurfaced, sharp and vital.
My gaze locked onto the Inland Taipan, its scales a mesmerizing mosaic of brown and tan, blending seamlessly with its surroundings—a natural camouflage for a creature whose bite could unleash toxins potent enough to decimate a platoon. Every breath I took felt measured, like the air could betray me.
“Olivia,” Roman murmured, squeezing my hand, “remember what I said about fear.”
His voice was an anchor, steadying me against the rising tide of panic. He was right. My thoughts flashed back to the cave with Lazarus and the snakes guarding the dagger—the cold, damp air, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the pulse-quickening terror. I’d been scared then, too, but I had survived. And survival now depended on the same principle—mastering the fear, taming it before it tamed me.
“Right,” I whispered back. The cave before us wasn’t just teeming with serpents—it was a living, writhing tapestry of neurotoxins, hemotoxins, and nephrotoxins, all coiled into lethal elegance. Coastal Taipans lay poised, their stillness as deceptive as their speed, while Black Mambas moved with an unsettling, serpentine grace. Each subtle shift, every flick of a forked tongue, was a deadly promise.
“Focus on me,” Roman said, his voice a lifeline as my pulse hammered in my ears. “Don’t let them sense your fear.”
I nodded, fighting to steady my ragged breathing. Concentrating on the warmth of Roman’s hand, I willed my body to relax, forcing the tremors threatening to betray my fright to still. Fear would be a beacon, an invitation to strike to these serpents. If they did, their venom would deliver a swift and excruciating death.
With every controlled breath, I banished the images of fangs sinking into flesh, of venom coursing through my veins. Instead, I conjured Rosie’s laughter and Luna’s serene slumber. They became my shield, my strength. For them, I would face this pit of horrors and emerge victorious.
“Steady,” Roman said again. His unwavering calm spread to me like ripples on water, grounding me in the moment.
“Steady,” I echoed, locking eyes with him. Together, we turned to face the writhing sea of death, determined to do whatever it took to survive.
The hourglass loomed before us, perched on a jagged stone podium like a throne of fate. Its slender glass walls encased a cascade of golden sand, each falling grain a grim countdown to our impending doom.
One of the guards, his English halting but his menace clear, pointed at us with his blade. “We watch the hourglass...and you.”
The words lingered in the heavy air as he and the other warriors retreated, leaving us with the serpents and the weight of the task ahead.
Roman’s gaze locked onto the largest serpent, a monstrous Inland Taipan. Her immense girth and the protective coil of her body told us she was guarding her brood—a queen among vipers. The torchlight gleamed off her scaled hide, an iridescent warning of the death she carried.
“We need her venom,” Roman whispered, his voice steady but firm. “But be wary, Olivia. A single bite...”
“Is enough to kill you, me, and everyone in this palace,” I finished, my eyes fixed on the serpent’s dark, watchful gaze. My voice was calm, but my stomach churned. “I’ve got it.”
The weight of our mortality pressed against me, suffocating and relentless, but I swallowed my fear. Failure was not an option—not when my children’s lives hung in the balance.
Roman took a measured step forward, and the sea of snakes parted for him. It was as if they recognized the predator in him—a fearless warrior whose heart pounded with the rhythm of countless battles. Yet, some dared to challenge him, rising with menacing hisses that sent shivers down my spine.
I stood frozen, my heart in my throat, watching as he approached the Taipan, his movements slow and deliberate. Every step he took felt like a defiance of death itself.
From the corner of my eye, a sinuous movement caught my attention—a Philippine Cobra inching closer. Its hood flared wide, its body poised to strike, a glistening harbinger of the potent neurotoxin it harbored, capable of rendering its victims lifeless in moments.
Panic clawed at my insides, urging me to flee, to escape this pit and its lethal inhabitants. But then, Lazarus’ words echoed in my mind—a lesson from a time that felt like a lifetime ago.
Face them without fear. They won’t hurt you.
I sucked in a deep breath, steeling myself against the rising tide of terror. Squaring my shoulders, I forced my legs to move, taking a deliberate step toward the cobra.
“I command you to step away from me,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor of adrenaline coursing through me.
The cobra reared back, its fangs bared in a silent challenge, but it did not strike. For an agonizing moment, we were locked in a battle of wills. Then, as if conceding, the serpent lowered its hood and slithered away. Taking a cue from their fellow predator, the other snakes scattered, leaving a clear path between me and Roman. My chest heaved with relief, but there was no time to linger in this small victory.
“Good,” Roman called out softly, his voice cutting through the tension. His focus never wavered from the Taipan, and his movements were precise and calculated. “Keep control, Olivia. We have to finish this—quickly.”
“Quickly...” I repeated under my breath, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand rather than the perilous dance we performed with death. Each grain of sand slipping through the hourglass narrowed our window of opportunity. For Rosie, for Luna, for all of us—I would not falter.
“Olivia! Get the chalice!” Roman’s urgent shout pierced the air, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I spun around to see him wrestling with the Inland Taipan, a writhing mass of scales and muscle. His grip on the serpent’s throat was ironclad, but his arms trembled under the creature’s violent thrashing.
“Where is it?” My voice wavered, barely audible above the cacophony of hissing and the frantic thudding of my heartbeat.
“How should I know?” Roman shot back, grimacing as he adjusted his hold on the Taipan, its tail lashing like a whip. “But I’ve got one mad mama in my hands, and I’m not sure I can hold her much longer.”
My eyes darted across the pit, scanning the dimly lit space for the glint of metal that could only be the chalice. Time felt like a noose tightening around my neck. We had to find it—and fast.
My heart hammered against my ribcage as I cast my mind back to the sterile, controlled environment of Lee’s makeshift lab. He had mastered many dark arts, including snake venom extraction. His steady hands had demonstrated the delicate process of milking venom—a skill reserved for experts. We worked with precision tools and safety measures, contrasting this dank pit in the 16th century. I could still hear Lee’s voice— Never forget, Olivia, respect the serpent, for its bite is swift, and its gift lethal.
And yet, here we were, standing in the antithesis of that controlled environment—a pit swarming with serpents, each one a harbinger of demise. No gloves to shield our hands, no face shield to intercept errant venom sprays, and no lab coat to protect our skin. All the tools that should have been at our disposal were absent, leaving us with nothing but our wits and sheer nerve to rely upon.
“Focus, Olivia,” I whispered to myself, forcing the tendrils of fear to recede into the recesses of my mind. Rosie and Luna, their faces embodying innocence and trust, hovered at the forefront of my thoughts, stoking the fires of determination within me.
I pivoted on my heel, carefully avoiding the sinuous tangle of vipers that carpeted the stone floor. Like polished onyx, their eyes tracked my every step, a silent audience to this macabre ballet.
As I wove through them, a cold coil brushed against my boot. My breath hitched. My foot came down hard on something thick and squishy beneath the layers of scales. The snake beneath me jerked violently, its body contorting in a desperate escape bid. My muscles tensed, my balance wavering for a split second. But fortune favored me. I had pinned it just behind its venomous head, rendering its deadly fangs useless.
“Sorry, not sorry,” I murmured through gritted teeth. With a grimace, I pressed down harder, feeling the creature’s struggles weaken until it lay limp, another casualty in our quest for survival. My heart ached for the necessity of it, but there was no room for hesitation.
I continued to scan the pit, my gaze darting from shadow to shadow.
“Found it!” I exclaimed, spotting the chalice perched precariously atop a ledge carved into the wall. I hastened to retrieve it with renewed vigor, knowing full well that every second squandered brought us closer to the end of the hourglass’ patience.
Fear coiled in my gut like the serpents that surrounded me. Their venomous hisses filled the air, a haunting symphony of danger. Each breath I took felt like a gamble, the weight of their menace pressing down on me, threatening to paralyze me.
“Move faster, Olivia!” Roman’s strained voice sliced through the cacophony of hissing. “I can’t hold her much longer!”
Beads of sweat trickled down his face as he grappled with the thrashing Inland Taipan. Its powerful body shimmered under the flickering torchlight, a deadly masterpiece of nature. His arms trembled from the effort, the sheer force of the serpent testing even his formidable strength.
I drew a shuddering breath, lifting my eyes to the chalice. Its ancient metal glinted in the dim light, an ornate relic holding the weight of our salvation—or our doom. The ledge it rested on seemed impossibly far, an island amid an ocean of venom.
“Olivia! Now!” Roman’s voice, sharp with urgency, snapped me into action.
Determined, I scanned the pit for anything useful. My eyes landed on a King Cobra nest—a mound of sticks and debris tucked into a corner. Swallowing my fear, I moved toward it, praying the cobras wouldn’t stir. I pulled two sturdy sticks from the nest with swift, deliberate movements. My heart pounded, every sound amplified, every shadow a potential threat. I hurried to a nearby torch, igniting one branch. The flames roared to life, their crackling warmth starkly contrasted with the cold dread that clung to me. With the hem of my skirt, I fashioned a makeshift loop at the end of the second stick. My improvised tools would have to suffice.
Torch in hand, I brandished the fire at the serpents. They recoiled instinctively, their fear of the flames creating a narrow, fleeting path. Step by cautious step, I advanced toward the chalice. Every movement was deliberate, every muscle tense, my senses hyper-aware of the slightest flicker of danger.
“Olivia?” Roman’s voice was quieter now, laced with fatigue and edged with desperation. “Hurry.”
“I’m doing my best,” I snapped, more to calm my panic than out of irritation at him. I knew the stakes.
Reaching the wall, I propped my torch against it, illuminating the stone with its flickering glow. My first attempt to snag the chalice failed, the fabric loop slipping off the smooth surface. Heart pounding, I tried again, adjusting the angle, my fingers trembling with every passing second.
On the third try, the fabric loop caught hold. I eased the chalice from its resting place, the ancient metal gleaming as it descended, inch by precarious inch. My breath hitched as it finally rested safely in my hands.
“Got it,” I whispered, more to myself than Roman.
“Good,” he breathed out, relief mingled with urgency. “Now, come here. Quickly.”
Clutching the chalice tightly, I moved back along the narrow path I had cleared. The serpents slithered aside as if repelled by the relic I carried, their instinctive menace momentarily subdued. Reaching Roman’s side, I couldn’t help but notice the tremble in his hands, the sheen of sweat coating his skin as he wrestled with the Inland Taipan.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered, though the gratitude in his eyes betrayed the gruffness of his words.
“Can you extract venom?”
Roman’s question hit me like a slap, jolting me out of my momentary relief at securing the chalice.
“Sure, with the right tools,” I replied, my voice heavy with sarcasm, “but I’ve never done it in... these circumstances.” The sterile, controlled lab environment I’d trained in felt like a distant dream compared to this snake-infested nightmare.
“Okay, listen,” I said, forcing my voice to steady despite the pulse thrumming in my ears. “We position the snake’s head over the chalice like this.”
I demonstrated with my hands, hovering over the artifact.
“I’ve got fabric from my skirt—we’ll use that as a membrane.” My fingers fumbled as I adjusted the knots securing the cloth to the branch.
“Membrane?” Roman frowned but nodded, his grip on the thrashing snake unyielding.
I stretched the torn fabric over the chalice’s opening. “Then we coax the snake to bite down on it.”
The words felt infinitely easier than the action they demanded.
“Coax how?” he asked warily.
“Light pressure on the jaw or... tap its nose.”
“Tap its—” Roman blinked, incredulous.
“Yep, that’s what I said,” I shot back, though my hands trembled at the thought. “I hold the chalice; you handle the snake. Deal?”
“Deal,” he said after a brief pause. “But Olivia, you tap.”
“Great,” I muttered under my breath. “Snake charmer. Add that to the resume.”
Roman adjusted his grip on the writhing Inland Taipan while I crouched low, carefully placing the makeshift venom collector on the cool stone floor. Around us, the pit seethed with danger, the torchlight forming a fragile sanctuary against the writhing darkness.
“Ready?” Roman’s voice was clipped, laser-focused.
“Let’s do it,” I replied, sounding far braver than I felt.
Roman brought the serpent’s head close to the chalice. My pulse raced as I leaned in, the weight of the moment pressing on my chest. With a deep breath, I tapped the snake’s nose—quick and light. The serpent recoiled slightly, its sleek body tensing before lunging forward. Its fangs pierced the fabric membrane, releasing a lethal stream of venom into the chalice.
“Steady,” Roman murmured, though I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me or the snake.
Time stretched unbearably, each second an eternity as the liquid death pooled in the chalice. My hands trembled, and I tightened my grip, forcing the vessel to remain steady. Finally, the flow ebbed, and Roman began to ease the snake away, his movements slow and deliberate.
“Did we get it?” I asked, scarcely daring to hope.
“Enough to save our skins,” he replied, a hint of triumph breaking through his grim tone.
Roman hurled the irate Taipan toward the pit’s far corner. It hit the wall with a dull thud before slithering into the shadows, leaving us momentarily free from its lethal gaze. I let out a shaky breath, staring at the venom-filled chalice in my trembling hands.
“Olivia,” Roman said, his voice steady yet tinged with awe, “we did it.”
I looked at him, the flickering torchlight casting wild shadows across his sweat-slicked face. Our eyes met, and without a word, we embraced, the chalice carefully cradled between us. His heart pounded against mine, a rhythm that spoke more of relief than triumph.
“Let’s not celebrate just yet,” I said, glancing back at the chalice. “We still have to deliver this to Pasha Hassan.”
Roman nodded, and together, we turned toward the exit. Behind us, the pit writhed with life, a deadly sea of serpents we had somehow navigated. Ahead, the sands of the hourglass trickled down to its final grains, marking the narrowness of our escape. The three warriors waited at the pit’s edge, their expressions unreadable as they flanked us. Without a word, they led us through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground palace. The weight of the chalice grew heavier with each step, as though it carried not just venom but the burden of our survival. Finally, we reached the ornate door to Pasha Hassan’s office. The guards opened it with a flourish, and there he stood, his gaze sharp and calculating as it swept over us.
“Timehunters,” Pasha Hassan mused, a sinister smile curling his lips as he eyed the chalice. “Or just lucky fools?” His eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “You’ve brought me what I requested, but you don’t seem shaken.”
“Should we be?” I asked, keeping my voice steady, though the adrenaline from the pit still thrummed through my veins.
Pasha Hassan’s sly grin deepened. “Well, well, maybe you are Timehunters. Or perhaps...” he trailed off, circling us like a predator toying with its prey. “A sorceress, maybe?”
He walked over to the desk, the rich fabric of his robes brushing against the floor with a quiet menace. “Let’s celebrate your... success,” he said, reaching for a decanter on his desk. He poured wine into three goblets, the deep crimson liquid swirling in the flickering torchlight. He handed one goblet to each of us before raising his own in a toast. “To the victors,” he declared, his voice smooth, almost mocking.
Roman and I exchanged a brief glance, and we raised our glasses together. The wine was velvety and warm, starkly contrasting the icy dread pooling in my stomach. A metallic tang lingered on my tongue as I drank, but I dismissed it, chalking it up to my own nerves.
Then it hit.
A stabbing pain shot through my skull, as sharp and merciless as a dagger. My vision blurred, the world around me spinning into a distorted haze. The goblet slipped from Roman’s trembling hand, clattering to the floor with a hollow ring. He staggered, clutching at the table for support.
“What’s... happening?” I gasped, pressing my palms against my temples as if I could somehow push away the searing pain.
Pasha Hassan stood before us, his expression of cold amusement untouched by the chaos around him. “The next test,” he announced, his tone calm and measured. “The Venomous Chalice was merely the beginning. Now, you must face the Alchemist Crucible.”
His words hung in the air, chilling and final. “You have eight hours to concoct an antidote. If you fail, the poison will claim you both.”
“Roman,” I rasped, reaching out blindly until my hand found his. His grip was weak but steady enough to anchor me. “Stay with me,” I pleaded. “We’re not done yet—we have to fight this.”
My knees buckled, and the stone floor rushed up to meet me. Roman crumpled beside me, his breaths ragged and uneven. One realization burned bright through the fog of pain and betrayal—we had escaped the snakes only to fall into an even deadlier trap. The venom in our veins was not just a test of survival—it was a test of our resolve, intelligence, and will to fight against impossible odds. And we would fight. We had to. For Rosie. For Luna. For us.