Free The Soldiers of Halla by D.J. MacHale Page A

wreckage.”
    â€œThat’s his plan,” Uncle Press said. “Once Halla has totally turned, the negative forces that have overcome mankind will create a rebirth of Solara. A much different Solara. It will still be filled with the spirit of mankind, but it will be a dark, negative spirit. After that, Saint Dane can use it as he will to manipulate matter and create an entirely new Halla. That’s the road we’re on.”
    Siry called out, “And what happens to us?”
    â€œThat’s your choice,” Uncle Press answered. “You can accept what’s happened as inevitable and become part of this new Solara, or you can make one last stand.”
    Aja huffed and said, “There isn’t much left to stand on.”
    Uncle Press gave us one of those sly smiles that I knew so well. He knew something. He hadn’t shared it all.
    â€œSaint Dane isn’t infallible,” he said. “You’ve all seen that. In spite of the high opinion he has of himself, he isn’t a god. He’s made plenty of his own mistakes.”
    â€œAnd yet he’s still won,” Elli pointed out.
    â€œNot yet,” Uncle Press replied quickly. “There is one territory left. It may be hanging by a thread, but it hasn’t been lost.”
    â€œThird Earth,” Patrick said with reverence.
    â€œSaint Dane made a mistake,” Uncle Press said, enjoying himself. “A huge one. It’s up to us to make sure that it was a fatal one.”
    â€œSo we’re not done yet?” I asked.
    Uncle Press gave me a wink and said, “Do you really think I’d have brought you all together like this if I thought we were done?”

JOURNAL #37
7
    W e were all back together.
    We were a little wiser and maybe somewhat overwhelmed by all that had been revealed to us. But at least we were together. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one who had to deal with getting knocked over the head with a big fat reality stick.
    Uncle Press addressed us all. “In spite of all you’ve heard, Solara is not dead. At least, the Solara that has always been is not dead. You all sense the presence of the spirit here, don’t you?”
    I looked around to see my friends nodding.
    â€œSolara is at its lowest point. The toll of this battle has been huge. The spirit is dying. You’ve met your loved ones here—the spirits who became Travelers to help guide your way on your home territories. Giving them a physical presence so they could speak with you was an added drain. The only reason we brought them forward now was to help ease your transition. They’re still here, but we can’t continue to maintain their physical selves.”
    I thought back to how my family flickered and disappeared.It seemed like a lightbulb running out of power. Turned out it was exactly that. The same sort of thing must have happened after I left Second Earth the first time. Every piece of evidence that my family existed had vanished. It must have all been created by the spirit of Solara, and then removed when it was no longer necessary.
    How weird is that?
    Uncle Press continued, “The worlds of Halla have fallen. Each territory is in chaos. The darker nature of mankind has triumphed, just as Saint Dane wanted.”
    Gunny stepped forward and asked, “So then, why is Solara still hanging on?”
    Patrick asked, “Because there’s still hope for Third Earth?”
    â€œThere is still hope for Third Earth, but I don’t believe that’s the reason. Third Earth has become a war zone. That’s where we all gathered before coming here.”
    That made sense. The zoo, the shattered buildings, the tilted Empire State Building. Third Earth was a mess, worse than when Patrick was last there.
    Elli asked, “Do you believe that saving Third Earth will stop Saint Dane?”
    â€œI don’t know. I’d be lying if I told you otherwise. Truth is, it’s all