2 Goblin King

10.12.2022

The small, nimble eagle floated dark and quiet, following a tight orbit to the planet below, just in teleporting range. One could call the level of care Zenozarax took paranoid, but it was also extremely necessary if not vitally important.

He hadn’t moved the eagle in hours, just waiting and observing the area around for any unwanted arrivals. Those, in this case, would be either sent by Mezchinhar or Quadirymir. And all things considered, he was more worried about the latter.

He was vulnerable now, physically and mentally, more than he’d like to admit.

Having the Wizard still alive, suffering and disconnected from himself was a greater burden than the thousands of years he had spent with his Warrior dead. Greater than he could have ever imagined and he finally understood why hanging out a chaos wizards part as bait like this was so effective. Why they couldn’t imagine anyone bearing this state of mind for centuries without acting.

When he, the Warrior, had been dead, it had been this insufferable silence, the phantom pain of a Part of him missing that had kept the Wizard awake at night — but in the end, it had been manageable. This now, was something else. Even disconnected from the Wizard, suspended and tortured on Charon, frozen down to almost absolute zero, he sensed the distress and endless pain somewhere deep within that connection between them that couldn’t be severed. It was distracting and it was exhausting. He wouldn’t be able to bear it for long and it left his mind vulnerable and reflexes slow to any hostile curse or attack. Obviously that was by design.

He wasn’t sure how much Quadirymir was aware of his current state of mind and body, but the less he knew of it, the better.

They had never truly trusted each other, but until now (one thousand years ago) Quadirymir had never betrayed him this openly. It was hard to tell what Quadirymir was after at the best of times and that hadn’t changed in the last thousand years. A true agent of chaos in every sense of the word. Zenozarax had taken advantage of it in the past, because Quadirymir was very good at getting what he wanted if he wanted something, but he wouldn’t do so now.

He scolded himself for the sense of betrayal he felt. Yes, he had never really trusted Quadirymir in the first place, but he had thought there to be something like a mutual understanding after all that time. More than the silent agreement of not killing each other. As it turned out he had been wrong. Or maybe Quadirymir had been right.

Be as it may, he had felt it wiser and more safe for everyone involved to not inform Quadirymir of where he was going, which surely came as annoyance to Quadirymir once he would realise he was gone and that could become a problem. But if, then it was a problem for another day.

 

Zenozarax had made sure the eagle, which he had taken from the Dark Citadel, was cleared of any form of surveillance. Any possible beacon locator he had completely torn out of the system before putting a very strict spell onto it that would further restrict any function to the bare minimum. Coated in a thick layer of stealth plating and with its main drive offline, the eagle with its wings folded onto its body looked more like a pitchblack bullet someone had forgotten in space than a functioning ship of any sort.

The space around the planet was quite busy. The scanners only passively picked up any signals around but he knew of the countless ships surrounding him and had made sure to stay far away from the shipping lanes. There were many ships in this system, but they only appeared close on the faint holographic map. In truth each of those dots was hundreds to thousands of kilometres away from him so as long as he didn’t get so close that they could see him with bare eyes they wouldn’t identify the eagle as anything else but debris.

Now he stood in the small cabin within the eagle’s body, waiting to see if anyone had followed him. If anyone would come too close. Subconsciously his right hand had wrapped around the grip of the knife again, the cold seeping through his skin was soothing in a way. It was a sense of cold that was supposed be there and it stood out even against the cold air within the eagle.

Then he finally sent the message and waited again.

He would have folded his arms before his chest, but he kept them open and ready to act should the shit hit the fan.

This was happening. But it all felt …. distant. Like he wasn’t truly here. Like all of this was just another hallucination spun up by his frozen mind. The Warrior was still disconnected from the Wizard, but of course his memories lingered within him. Only a few times since he had awoken he had dared to reconnect to him again, to assure him that he would be saved. But every time he felt his mind cry out in agony. He could not bear it. Nor did the Wizard even realise it wasn’t just his delusional mind playing tricks on him. Whispers, memories, images, nothing of which was there, all poisoning the Wizard’s mind, desperately clinging to a last sense of existence even though all hope had withered away in the absolute cold.

His warm breath hung in the minimal atmosphere of the eagle’s interior. The cold air, only marginally warmed by his own presence, was biting against his skin.

A shudder went down his spine and he held the handle of the knife so hard the knuckles of his hands appeared to shine white through the skin. But the freezing cold of the knife and the air around stayed all he felt. He took a deep breath and, putting all caution aside, increased the temperature inside the cabin to a less freezing sensation. Momentarily he felt a sense of warmth against his skin and his breath calmed down again.

A message appeared on the screen he had been tensely watching. He was being invited and a heartfelt welcome was passed onto him. Followed by a set of coordinates that were ready to receive him.

Zenozarax took the information from the terminal with a brush of his index finger. Then he waited again for a good while before he sent an answer telling them that he would be there soon. And waited again. He didn’t want them to know how close he really was, so in the hopefully unlikely case that they would rat him out, whoever came looking for him would with the pretended transmission delay assume his ship to be much farther away.

To keep that pretence up he would wait a little longer and used that time to get dressed appropriately. He had brought a particularly eye catching outfit from his storage on the Dark Citadel with which he now replaced the more toned down uniform.

Naturally, the Warrior thought the outfit was pretty, as much as the Wizard would, however, the Warrior had never felt as comfortable in it as the Wizard. Simply because it restricted his movement just a little bit too much. After putting on the four layers of fabric this particular robe was composed of, he added some jewellery to his outfit, topping it off with a glistening circlet. He didn’t replace the very simple golden necklace he wore around his neck. He had started to wear it soon after he had been rebuilt the first time after Funnix. A reminder of a friend who had fallen by his hand. A reminder of why he was here now. And he wouldn’t stop wearing it now just because he didn’t quite fit the colour scheme he was going for.

The magnificent cloak he fixed on his shoulders hid the knife well enough and he took the staff he had brought for this very occasion. Overall, he looked very wizard-y now. And that was important.

Goblins had a very firm idea about how wizards should look. Not meeting that expectation was considered quite disrespectful, even dishonest. Ironically he felt that way now about wearing this robe and cloak, because they belonged to the Wizard and he didn’t like to pretend to be him. One could go around pretending one’s left arm was one’s right, but despite all similarities, it still wouldn’t be true.

Before leaving he set up an alert tied to the passive scan of the eagle that would warn him of any unexpected visitors in the area. They took a high risk seeing him and Zenozarax was very much aware of that. So the least he could do was to be gone in a moment’s notice if anything as much as twitched out here.

Then, after summoning an ordinary portal to the coordinates he had been given, he disappeared from the eagle. 

*

“Grand Wizard Zenozarax!” The small goblin bowed so deep his nose almost touched the ground. “We’re honoured. Please, follow me, ke?”

“Lead the way.” Zenozarax nodded for the goblin to hurry along and with quick steps he followed. The small creature was barely half as tall as him and consequently goblin architecture wasn’t well suited to house guests of his height. When they entered the corridor out of the hall he had ported into, the ceiling was merely a hand’s length away from the top of his head and several times he had to avoid pipes running across it.

It wasn’t pretty, but he knew not to judge the apparent crudeness for unsophistication. Goblins, while extraordinarily smart, were quick living creatures. The one leading him now seemed about middle aged, which meant in earth years he was about five years old. It would be hard for any intelligent species to develop a stable culture under those rushing conditions, but the goblins had an advantage that had made them into one of the most far-spread species in their part of the multiverse. That was their ancestral memory. Generations of knowledge accumulating within any one of them, past down and expanded upon generation by generation.

They were formidable, crafty, and extremely adaptable. They lived quick, but built even quicker. And after the wizards themselves, they were probably the most consistently advanced species under their watch. At least in those spaces where they weren’t hunted down and eradicated like vermin.

Led by his guide they entered a large hall which finally eased the danger of running into the ceiling architecture.

“Zenozarax. You look good for dead.” A snarling voice echoed through the room.

“I never thought of it to be a very becoming state of being, your majesty,” Zenozarax said with a sense of levity as he crossed the hall to approach the Goblin King. The goblin tongue got his own in a twist as he had so far barely gotten used to speaking Teshvo again with this new body. Now the sharp and almost hissing sounds felt not as suave as he wanted them to sound. But that was a problem that would take care of itself as long as he’d keep talking. “It seems an introduction is unnecessary?“

“I’m of the line of Yaryax. I remember.” The old Goblin King nodded. “The more curious I am to hear what you want from us now? You’re a dangerous dead man to know now, ke?”

“For as much as it is in my power I promise no harm will come to you.“

“Now that is a promise you can’t keep. You are here, aren’t you? Leviathan’s Wrath may be right on your heels.”

Zenozarax smirked, giving a gracious little bow to apologise. “You are of course right about that, your majesty. So let us put the pleasantries aside and keep this visit brief then.”

“Please do.“

“Xaronzul. Do you know where he is?”

“No.” Yaryax grinned and Zenozarax understood why as he continued. “But he gave us this to keep for you!”

A very young goblin hushed towards him holding out a little pillow with an amulet on it. Zenozarax recognized immediately what it was and he felt a little sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” He took the amulet and put it into his belt pocket. Xaronzul had left a trail of breadcrumbs at places he seemed to suspect Zenozarax to revisit after his return. It was the third of its kind he had now. The first he had found with Xaronzul’s belongings left on the citadel. The second he had found in his own secret void station, of which existence only his closest companions had known about.

This amulet too would send a very simple signal to its counterpart. Where this counterpart was impossible to say, but Zenozarax suspected all of them together would lead him back to the Edge of the Universe. But, he would not activate it yet, in case it was a trap afterall. He would also scan it very carefully once he was back on the eagle to make sure it wasn’t a beacon in disguise. King Yaryax seemed friendly enough, but it had been over a thousand years since they last had spoken. And a lot could happen in a thousand years.

“Fen and Tanax were my chief engineers on the Dawnbreak and Twilight respectively. Has Xaronzul brought their kin back here?“

“No. They are still with him. As far as I know,” Yaryax said. “If they are not, there are many eager hands to take their place. I’ll send word if you want.”

“Not yet, but I appreciate and will remember the offer.”

Goblins had always revered wizards as something holy; great messiahs out of space and time which brought knowledge and unimaginable progress. They were called gachxiu — the closest translation in spirit would be angel.

Henceforth, goblins had always been eager to serve these angels of the gods. They did not care about the power struggle of chaos and order within Mezchinhar and they held no loyalty to either side. Each wizard was met with the same respect.

While goblins were seen as troublesome and untrustworthy by most wizards aligned with the forces of Order, it was exactly that reason why goblins and chaos wizards seemed to be natural companions.

Every goblin worth their wrench was eager to serve on a wizard’s ship. Mezchinhar would never allow that, but most chaos wizards had no such reservations. And so many chaos wizards in possession of a stable base or ship freely accepted the offered help.

It was exactly this fact which explained the surprisingly widespread existence of goblins throughout the universes. Because like rats on a ship (in the most flattering way) they travelled with them from shore to shore, to sometimes establish new homes and worlds for themselves whenever the goblin population of any ship grew too large. Which was something that could easily happen. With their extremely short lifespan any goblin population would grow exponentially within only a few decades unless strict rules for reproduction were established. Since most chaos wizards had a principled disdain for any form of strict rules, and the spread of goblins as valuable allies and a thorn in Mezchinhar’s order wasn’t a bad thing all things considered, nature was usually allowed to run its course.

For the sake of safety and anonymity however, especially in those first thousand years when nobody was supposed to know him to be alive, Zenozarax had made it a point to keep the goblin population under his command stable. Not by force but by agreement.

Many chaos wizards would probably sneer at him, but Zenozarax understood that he could not achieve his goals without the presence of a firm command. Fortunately for all involved he was very comfortable with that, and even the chaos wizards following him were pleased with his style of leadership.

They could fight order and deny their own nature all they wanted, but Zenozarax understood that they all still were beings of Order. Every living creature was.

“Will you leave now or is there more you want to ask?”

It was impossible to tell if Yaryax wanted him to go or if he would mourn the fact. The old face of the goblin king showed nothing but amusement. However, if anything he seemed to sense that there was something else Zenozarax was here for.

It was something of importance, and now with the scattered memories of the wizard haunting his thoughts, these memories came back over and over again just more strongly. He had failed in the one thing he really had needed to do, because of his own ignorance and his mistakes.

So here he was, about to ram his head against the same wall again, hoping for a different outcome. But he had to try again.

He had to, not only for his own peace of mind.

Because he had left more than that portal in those tunnels beneath Treva.

 

“I have one more question, if you will grant me the time.”

“Go ahead, Grand Wizard. Ask. My ears are all yours.” The jestfull comment was underlined with a demonstrativ twitch of the old goblin’s ears which were admittedly pretty impressive in size.

“Your people have built hell portals before, yes?”

“Plenty over the countless ferlens since my first mother lived,” Yaryax confirmed.

“I need to know more about them. You have managed to make them stable, yes? Have you been able to disassemble them, too?”

King Yaryax let the short walking stick that might as well be a sceptre click on the ground. “Why do you need to know that?”

“I built a hell portal into a natural rift space.” The Goblin King peaked up, leaning forward, resting the weight of his upper body on the stick. King Yaryax was old already, probably way past nine, but his gleaming green eyes shone with an youthful and curious shine.

“And you opened it?” He asked with a barely contained grin.

“I did. Briefly.” Zenozarax nodded, starting to slowly pace across the room but not without leaving the King out of his sight.

“And?“

“And it almost tore itself apart. It lays dormant now, but —” he stopped himself, reconsidered his words, thinking about Ravalor, and how everything had fallen apart. A thousand years ago. Then he said “It can’t stay there.”

“What did you see?”

Zenozarax frowned as Yaryax ignored what he had said completely. Nevertheless he said,

“I saw something. When I stared into that void, there was something that saw me. Something powerful.”

“The elder gods,” Yaryax snarled. “Your people call them Remnants, ke?”

“Only as long as they still roam time. I’ve seen Remnants before, those that roamed the multiverse by the lords’ will since before we came into time — but they were dormant. They become Lord Gova Atosas once they enter hell.”

“Gods without time,” Yaryax snickered like the name was an inside joke only he was in on. “Go on.” The King then waved his hand, demanding more details.

The Warrior paused, trying to really remember the very hell portal the Wizard and Ravalor had built below Treva. The memories were hazy, strained by exhaustion, mania and grief alike. For him, only seeing the Wizard’s memories it was hard to say what he had seen. Nevertheless he said, “Yes, I think I saw them in that very portal I built. But I can’t really explain it.”

“Once there was one in this galaxy, and your people banished it into the place beyond. Horrible creatures of madness.” King Yaryax’ chuckled as if to challenge the notion of who really was mad here. “I have seen them too.”

Zenozarax stopped in his pacing and blinked. “You have? How?”

For a while Yaryax mustered him carefully, pondering. There was still that gleam in his eyes but now there was something else. Something Zenozarax knew to be wary of. It was the spark of ulterior motives. Whatever Yaryax would tell him next would not be out of the goodness of his heart.

“I can show you, Grand Wizard!” the Goblin stepped down the steps from his throne. With his age bent back he was even shorter than the average goblin. “Here.” Yaryax had pulled out a small datatab from his pocket and opened some data that required several biometric confirmations and access codes. The device was eerily similar to the standard wizard design because in all likelihood it was based on it (Mezchinhar would say stolen.) Zenozarax took it and scanned through the information given to him.

“You build a space station directly into a rift space?” he asked, feeling reasonably tense at the idea.

“We did. The only reason we build there. The rift space.” Yaryax explained proudly. “Very dangerous this one, ke? Spins with the planet, so now we always know where it is!“

There was another advantage goblins had. Absolute and suicidal fearlessness. But it was an advantage, he couldn’t deny that. Compared, wizards were like poor little scared kittens and admittedly the chaos wizards were even worse in that regard than their orderly counterparts due to how hard it was for them to get the materials to rebuild their Parts. But it was more than that. Somewhere during the last two billion years since the Last Whisper they had lost their sense of bold curiosity.

“Those coordinates are for the space elevator. If you bring us there, I can show you.”

“Is it within the rift space?”

“Of course not. I don’t want to kill you, wizard!”

Zenozarax clenched his teeth. It was risky, and he had to trust Yaryax to tell the truth. If he was lying now, and he opened a portal into that rift space, he would die. But if he insisted on manual transport, it would not only take considerably longer, but also show Yaryax clearly that he didn’t trust him. And then he wouldn’t get the information he needed.

“Very well.”

Taking a deep but well hidden breath he raised his hands and with a snap the portal opened. When he then was not spontaneously ripped apart, he let the breath escape again.

“You wizards are so scared,” Yaryax chirped as he already stepped brazenly through the portal. Zenozarax barely kept himself from rolling his eyes.

After a short walk, passing only one security checkpoint, Yaryax’ led him to the elevator cabin. It was as rough design wise as everything else, and without even giving them much chance to settle, the cabin shot up into the sky. Soon through the glass planes surrounding the elevator to three sides they rose above the surface, pierced through the sulfuric clouds and left the gravity well behind. Zenozarax settled his stance with a little bit of magic while Yaryax relied on magnetic boots.

The space elevator was tethered to a massive space station. Against the black of the universe the entire station seemed to glow. But it was a glow only Zenozarax could see.

“When did you build it?” The space elevator started to slow down and passed the translucent border into the rift space. There was an irrational part of his mind expecting it to just explode.

“35 generations ago. And it still floats. It is safe.” Yaryax obviously had understood the real question in his question. Nevertheless, or because of it just to tease him, he added, “Before that we build another. Right here too. That exploded and ignited the atmosphere.” Yaryax’ shook his head and sceptically Zenozarax glanced down at the King.

“Comforting.” He assumed there wouldn’t be artificial gravity in the station itself, since the station had no spinning parts and any magical way would probably disrupt the rift, so he caught his floating cloak and wrapped it around his waist, fixing it into his belt.

“But we rebuild, better and safer! Look—” the elevator door opened up and they stepped into yet another corridor which barely accommodated Zenozarax. The industrial sense of style was consistent here but looked a lot newer all around. Goblins busied past them as Yaryax led him into the heart of the station. The light of the rift space danced around him almost blindingly so. It wasn’t the slow steady movement he expected, instead the light rushed past him and swirled, being drawn again and again into the direction he was now walking. He knew what that meant.

That cold sense of casual terror became stronger the moment Yaryax opened a set of double winged doors and they stepped into an observation area. It was open to a scientifically furnished laboratory with large screens and long control panels around a large construct.

The style was different, but it was a hell portal alright.

And it was opened.

Somehow he managed to not freeze in his steps but instead stepped up right to the railing of the observation area.

The tension in the air was suffocating. He couldn’t believe it. Even if the portal would have been opened right before they had entered, it was already way surpassing any standard safety regulations he knew. These portals weren’t supposed to be opened for longer than a few seconds!

“How long has it been open?”

“17 generations.” The pride was dripping out of Yaryax’ words of insanity.

About 85 years. “That’s… impressive.” Zenozarax couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. And he realised that maybe, possibly, this was just another of Mezchinhar’s truths he had never thought to question.

But this was exactly what he needed! If they had this much knowledge about the stable construction of a portal like this, they ought to have at least some pointers that could lead Zenozarax into the right direction as to how to safely disassemble one as well. After all, undoubtedly there would be maintenance needed ona portal this old. Maybe he could even convince some expert with this knowledge to join him!

This was more than he could have ever hoped for, and he scolded himself for not having come here before. Maybe he could have already disabled and disassembled that blasted portal below Treva the last time instead of the unmitigated disaster it had turned out to be in the end.

 “Can I?“

“Of course, of course, come, here.” Yaryax waved him to follow and they stepped down from the observation area onto the floor of the laboratory. Very slowly Zenozarax stepped closer to the portal. Then he stopped. Only about three metres away, the massive gate into hell filled all but his peripheral vision.

And whatever he had seen there way over two thousand years ago, he saw now again. Everything around him had changed, but in there, everything was still the same. As he stared into that nothing that was everything, he felt what the Wizard had felt, like dark, ice cold tendrils drilling into the back of his mind, he felt there was something aware of him. Watching him. But it wasn’t one thing he realised now, it was thousands, millions, but nothing, gazing, peering into his soul. A whisper in the back of his mind. Countless voices as one that spoke to him, writing in his mind where he did not see…

“It is pretty, ke?“

He didn’t know how long he stared — it may have been a few seconds or an hour. When finally he heard Yaryax’ voice again and managed to tear his eyes away, the Goblin King stood near a laboratory counter, now without gravity dragging him down he no longer had to lean on this stick. He had watched him.

Zenozarax swallowed hard, looking back to the portal. “It is. But how …can you even look at it?”

Yaryax snarled. “Adapted to it. All the first generation died when they opened it. Then we started to look more carefully. Fraction of a second, then a second then two. Those who didn’t bleed from their ears could look longer the next time, and then their children longer even.”

Brute forcing evolutionary adaptation the way only goblins could. Zenozarax just nodded absentmindedly as his eyes were drawn back to the hell portal and the wispering nothing embraced him in the light of an invisible galaxy swirling around him.

“Now you see.“

Zenozarax didn’t even hear Yaryax. He had come with a plan. But now he barely remembered what it had been. He felt that ever present anger within him claw onto something. A thought, an idea, a purpose... Was it his own? Did he want that? Or did he need to do it? He did, didn’t he?

He had had a chance. He had been so close. And they had ruined all of it. His one chance of absolute freedom - torn down by betrayal after betrayal.

And there it was.

He took a deep breath as that flame swallowed him whole. It was but a mere whisper. No, even less than that. Like a thought that wasn’t his own, not a voice, not an anything. Something inside of him tried to stop it, but he couldn’t.

As he stared again into that swirling mass of hell he felt it calling to him, something that was unimaginably older than even he was. Something deep within himself resonated with it, his exhausted mind was embraced by an unfamiliar jolt of energy and he felt those claws dig deeper and deeper.

Without noticing he had made two slow steps forward. Nothing but the fantastical show of light around and the endless nothing before him. If he were to raise his arms he was close enough to reach—

Suddenly he stumbled back as something pulled hard on his cloak. His heart jumped in surprise and with wide eyes he swirled around — just to realise that it had been two goblins having torn the cloak from his belt to pull him backwards.

“They are calling to you, ke?” Yaryax said with an almost gleeful snarl in his voice. He was aware that he had just saved Zenozarax’ life. Chances were good he’d never let him live that down.

It took all his strength for Zenozarax to turn away from the portal and fight the temptation to look into it again. He still felt dazed as he tried to wrap his thoughts around this strange sensation. He could still hear that something that was nothing whispering.

“They want to get out…” he whispered, but not to anyone in particular. In fact for a moment he had forgotten where he was.

“Of course they do,” Yaryax confirmed somberly. As if it was a great injustice. “The great beyond is not for them. They don’t belong!“

That was true. A wisper…

“Is it possible?” He asked, feeling a strange sensation. He looked back to the portal. Hope?

“Possible? Yes. Advisable? No. We do believe these gods should not be in there. They poison the beyond. But - there is believe, and then there is common sense, ke? We let them out here and we no longer have a place to live.”

“But in theory, it is possible?” Zenozarax asked more tensely, dragging his gaze away from the portal, now staring at Yaryax. The Goblin King squinted at him, but there was less suspicion than there was curiosity. Maybe even a hint of excitement. “Can you show me how?”

“You free the elder gods? Yes, maybe you are strong enough to do so. You are old. You are powerful.” Yaryax grinned that sharp wide grin again. And faintly Zenozarax realised it was the very reason Yaryax’ had decided to even show him this — but that didn’t matter. “I will help you, yes. But not here, ke? That portal you built?” A devious gleam appeared in the goblins face. “On earth, ke?“

“I never said it’s on earth,” Zenozarax noted and he understood why Yaryax was so willing to help. It would win him this war. But the goblin king didn’t understand. He knew nothing of what it would do. But Zenozarax did. He saw it all now.

“You speak of it with care and importance. It was something you built before you became who you are now and can’t no longer freely go to it. But I’m right. I can see it.“

Zenozarax stayed quiet, waiting for Yaryax to state his terms.

“I will tell. But you tell me more about them. About the remnants of yours! And all you will see when they come back into time!”

“As much as I know I’ll tell you.” He would tell everything, because it wouldn’t matter. Because the fire would spread anew.

It was rotten. All of it. He understood that now. Suddenly it was so clear in his mind like his eyes had been opened to a truth in the universe that had always been there and he had been just too blind to see it. Everything he had wanted to do before was merely a band aid, a half-hearted attempt to free them from Mezchinhar’s rule.

But now he understood that it had to end. All of it. The strange whisper in the back of his mind dragged his thoughts back to that undeniable fact again and again.

Because he suddenly understood what the Law of Fire really meant. Ancient knowledge by even older forces beyond his grasp now ingrained into the anger in his heart.

The universe needed to burn.

So from the ashes a new order could arise.

Please log in to leave and read comments.