Now it was time for part three, of Bellasini’s master plan.

 

She quietly slipped on the bracelets, got dressed, and grabbed Zac off the shelf.

 

“I’m sorry Kuching, but we are going to surrender, so I need to leave you here. But don’t worry, I will be back.”

 

She clashed the two bracelets together, and quietly called out. “To the Wiz’s.”

 

“Princess, you’re back! I was just about to sit down, for some tea and cakes. Would you like to join me?” asked the Wizard.

 

Zac did not need to be asked twice. He headed straight for the table, and started to scoff down the small creamy cakes. He seemed more than a little hungry, after missing out on dinner, the night before.

 

Bellasini, who was somewhat embarrassed by Zac’s lack of table manners, thanked the Wizard for his kind offer, but explained, they were on their way to fix the Glitch. For good, this time. However, first she needed to find out the answers, to a few key questions.

 

“Pull up a chair Princess,” replied the Wizard, pouring her a cup of tea.

 

“Where do you want to start?”

 

“Well first of all, I would like to know why you advised me last night, to give up my quest to fix the Glitch?” asked Bellasini. “Have you lost faith in me already, or do you really believe, it is hopeless?”

 

“I never gave you any such advice,” replied the Wizard.

 

“Yes, you did,” responded Bellasini. “Last night when I returned to my room, after nearly being caught by Glitch and his band of villains, I sat on the end of my bed, pondering what to do next. Your voice came into my head, and told me, I had given it my best shot, and that it was now time, to give up this foolish quest.”

 

“The MoM,” sighed the Wizard. “I should have told you.”

 

“The who?” responded Bellasini.

 

“The Master of Mischief, or ‘MoM,’ as I call him,” replied the Wizard, sipping his tea.

 

“He must have found your Lifelog.”

 

“I don’t understand,” replied Bellasini, shaking her head. “The MoM, found my Lifelog. What does that mean?”

 

The Wizard explained, that the MoM had been hiding in the nothingness, of never-ending corridors, of the millions of shelves of Lifelogs, since the beginning of time. He loved nothing better, than to create problems, or mischief, for any helpless Lifelog, he found ajar.

 

“As well as being a master of mischief, he is also a master of disguise. When he opens an unsuspecting Lifelog, he disguises his voice to be that of a close friend, confidant, or even me, as he gives his foolhardy advice. Advice given, for the sole purpose, of creating trouble, misbehavior, monkey business, and heartache, for those people, foolish enough, to act upon it.”

 

“But it sounded just like you,” interjected Bellasini. “How am I ever going to know, which advice is coming from you, and which is coming from the MoM, if you both sound exactly the same, inside my head?”

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