Prologue: Tagar
For anyone new to the series, I highly recommend starting with Book 1 of The Tenth Dimension: Five Ordinary Teens and the Monarchs of the Ten Dimensions.
Book 2 picks up immediately where Book 1 left off - and a lot has happened!
For returning readers, please note that there are some changes from Book 1 - like Jess now seeing an enormous snapping turtle instead of a polar bear, Matt’s lion having a haggard mane and only one eye, and Liz's powers are now from the Life Dimension, rather than the Earth Dimension (nothing changed except for the name). These updates will be reflected in Book 1 eventually, so please forgive the inconsistencies for now!
Thank you, everyone, for reading! I hope you enjoy Book 2!
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Tagar shifted his weight. The thick chains clattered against the stone floor, echoing down the dark tunnels of the Deep. He glanced at the shattered remnants of Grothar’s chains by his feet and smirked. Not long ago, he had imprisoned the Electric Prince in this very room.
Tagar was many things: a fabulous actor, highly emotionally intelligent, and exceptionally strategic. And he was never wrong. So why didn’t the other dimensions come?
He had planned every step. Every event, from Quintal’s plea for help to the unveiling of the Tenth Dimension’s Monarchs - was his doing. He was a master of manipulation, the perfect puppeteer. He usurped Grothar and claimed the title of King of the Electric Dimension. Allura and the Crix’is followed him without question. The other Monarchs accepted the Electric Dimension’s neutrality. This was no coincidence. None were as wise as Tagar; none had his incredible foresight or strategic acumen.
So how did I end up in this godforsaken place? It doesn’t make sense.
Tagar had known the attack on Mount Faradic was coming for weeks. He had prepared for it perfectly, as always. Everything had gone according to plan - except the other dimensions didn’t come. Why didn’t they come? Why would they let the Electric Dimension fall? It doesn’t make sense! The Crix’is could not stop the Farren, Golar, Magni, and Darklings on their own. He had needed the others. They are fools for not coming!
The Earth Monarchs had imprisoned him in this dungeon only hours ago, but Tagar was spiraling. His mind raced. Tagar the brilliant. Tagar the strategist. Tagar the omnipotent - chained in a hole. Just like Grothar. He had run through the sequence a dozen times and still found no fault in himself. Why didn’t it work? He had to know what went wrong. Start from the beginning.
The Electric Dimension’s neutrality was the key to everything. Tagar had always known the divide it would create, and upon his rise to kingship, he carefully cultivated that division. All of the Monarchs sought power - it was no secret. There was no difference between Darklings and Panetra, Crix’is and Farren. Those who tasted power wanted more. It was inevitable. But only Tagar had thought to use it.
The relationships were already there - Nethertine and Aritoss were age-old friends, the Panetra and Farren longstanding rivals. By enforcing the Electric Dimension’s neutrality and whispering in the right ear at the right time, Tagar easily formed a divide. The Dark, Stone, Wild, and Fire Dimensions needed to stand together, and thus, the Primarch Division took shape, which forced the Light, Earth, Water, and Air Dimensions to respond in kind, forming the Luminous Alliance. And Tagar’s neutrality would be the final catalyst. With nine dimensions, it was too risky for anyone to make a move - no one felt secure. But with only eight, there had to be four against four.
Which put the Electric Dimension in a precarious position. The other dimensions would distrust Tagar and his neutrality. Animosity was inevitable. But he had planned for that, too. Nobody else could have done this. Nobody saw me coming.
When the Dark Prince arrived in the Electric Dimension, pleading for help and hinting at a rift with the Dark King, Tagar recognized his chance. Quintal and Malgthor’s friendship was legendary, and their discord represented opportunity. His moment to finally claim his true and deserved title. He had already usurped Grothar and become King of the Electric Dimension. But this was his chance to become King of the Ten Dimensions. It was inevitable. He just had to play the part a little while longer.
And it was this part, this position of neutrality, that earned Quintal’s trust. Quintal came to Tagar because he was removed from the political turmoil of the other dimensions. Obviously, the Electric Dimension couldn’t help Quintal - it would have labeled him a player in the political game, and Tagar needed to remain neutral. Removed. Disinterested. But it presented an opportunity.
Tagar had felt guilty imprisoning Grothar, but the prince was erratic. Uncontrollable. Grothar was a friend, but his impulsiveness would ruin everything. He couldn’t be allowed to take sides. If there was one thing Tagar Duskforger couldn’t tolerate, it was unplanned, emotional acts. Tagar knew better. He always did. And Allura knew it, too.
Immediately after Quintal’s departure and Grothar’s imprisonment, Tagar set to work. He reached out to Nethertine and whispered of Malgthor’s treachery, knowing the Light King would share the information with Aritoss. He capitalized on Rasmuth’s disdain for the Farren. He ensured the Luminous Alliance knew about the shift in the Dark Monarchy, and in return, King Nethertine of the Light Dimension trusted him with important information - that each of the Earth, Light, Air and Water dimensions was missing a Monarch.
Tagar had to admit, the discovery of the Monarchs of the Tenth Dimension had been a surprise. But it wasn’t chance that led Allura there - it was his insistence on neutrality that gave him that information. When Quintal disappeared, Tagar knew where to look, and he pounced.
The Monarchs from the Tenth Dimension didn’t know what hit them. They had no idea the scope of the political landscape they had entered. They were children—naïve, blind, easy prey. They trusted his every word and did everything he wanted. Of course, he let them believe it was their idea. But Tagar would never have let them skip the Prism. That was never an option.
They thought their presence would unite the Monarchs against Malgthor, but that was never going to happen. The divide was too solid. If the Primarch Division turned on Malgthor, it would make the Luminous Alliance too strong and leave the others vulnerable. No, the Prism could only end one way - aggression toward Tagar. He had known it from the start. He had acted the part of shocked, saddened fool perfectly. None of the Monarchs saw through his charade.
Tagar had been informed of the Ferran armies assembling weeks ago. Nethertine’s spies had scoped out the Magni and Golar. Queen Myst knew the Primarch Division was plotting an invasion. There was only one logical target - the Electric Dimension.
“Why the Electric Dimension?” Allura had asked. Tagar smirked in his chains, remembering the conversation. Even she didn’t understand, but it was so simple. The Primarch Division had the advantage because the Luminous Alliance was short four Monarchs. If the neutral Electric Dimension joined the Luminous Alliance, that advantage was lost. They had to neutralize the Electric Dimension to ensure their position. Tagar had seen it coming all along, and he capitalized on it.
He called the Prism and introduced the Monarchs of the Tenth Dimension, knowing it would incite an attack. The Primarch Division feared three Electric Monarchs. They would certainly fear five more Monarchs by Tagar’s side. The Luminous Alliance would have no choice but to defend him – if the Electric Dimension fell, they would be outnumbered. But with his help, the Luminous Alliance would have sixteen Monarchs against eleven in the Primarch Division. And Tagar alone would have controlled eight.
So why didn’t they come? Tagar had sent for help from each dimension. None came. Why? What went wrong? It didn’t make sense. It was perfect. Everything had fallen into place. The Luminous Alliance would have won, and Tagar would have been the strongest in the Ten Dimensions, with three Electric Monarchs and five fools by his side. Nothing could have stood in his way. He would have had total power.
I fooled them all. I planned everything. It went smoothly. My acting was perfect. How did this happen? It doesn’t make sense. His mind raced. His body ached.
Tagar heard footsteps. Soft. Gentle. Slow. Almost wet. Darkling footsteps. Malgthor.
Tagar shifted his mindset. He knew what to do. The Dark King would want to bargain, to manipulate, to gloat.
Tagar wasn’t emotional, but he knew how to act it. To show it. I need to be defeated. Sad. Pathetic. The Dark King had a soft heart. He felt for hurt things. Tagar needed to get out of the Deep. And he would.
“Tagar Duskforger,” Malgthor muttered as he entered the room. “Here we are, again.”
Tagar bent his head and lowered his eyes. He let his arms go limp and forced himself to weep.
“How the mighty have fallen,” Malgthor grinned.
Tagar slowly looked up, full of shame and defeat. He was showing Malgthor what the Dark King needed to see. But it wasn’t real. Nothing Tagar ever portrayed was real.
Nothing, except power.
