"I was right, Nikolas! Huron's citizens, the Merrows are in grave danger. I saw it for myself! Grand held up the green memory-in-a-bottle, waving it around anxiously. The Machu Picchu archaeological site could be seen to the left of his dirt-filled cheek."

The ID and timestamp on Nick's videomail message read:

CALLER: GRAND LYONS (GRANDPA)

TIME: 9:32 AM

LOCATION: MACHU PICCHU, PERU

"You must think I sound ins—ne. Hope yo—get my message. I'm not getting a good recept—. Pass— through a solar-mining field. Just got back from an archaeological dig at Machu Picchu. I disguised myself as a project leader and have spent years searching from a message from home . . . your home . . . our home. I got the message!

"Grand lifted up the bottle again, while clutching the steering wheel. The Merrows are under attack! Oh. You probably don't know what a Merrow is. Merfolk... You know. Half human, half-fish. They will be wiped out soon if I don't return you to your time and place in history. Look. This is hard to explain. Trust me. When you watch the memory-in-a-bottle, you'll understand everything."

Grand held the bottle in the video screen, shaking it with every punctuation.

"They need you! The Merfolk need you—the Merfolk on Möon!"