"Zeke?" I ask. My voice sounds unsure, even if the question itself is rhetorical. I know this is him. But I also know, with the inner fibers of my soul, that this is not the Ezekiel *I* know. Not all of him, at least. Not *yet*.
"Yes. You need my help." That's not a question. Zeke's voice is unusually somber. "The twists of time and fate have aligned in a fortuitous, yet ironic, way. You need my help, and I need yours."
I frown. That's strange. If he's Ezekiel from the relative future, then he should have with him the future version of me to help. Were they separated again? Or maybe I wasn't yet successful in finding Zeke? But for how long?
"Of course, Zeke," I answer aloud so he would hear. "How can I help?"
"I need to perform a certain ritual. You only have to keep the connection between us open."
"Oh." I nod, then wonder if Zeke sees me nodding and add aloud, "Yes, sure. Just like when you used magic with me around, but at a distance?"
