4
The Wayward

Into the classroom Nida walked, no need to slink along, classrooms were open all the time during the day unless an instructor was in doing some grading or the like.

Those large, annoying consoles, he strode towards, turning on one of the computers in the back. Getting onto the main page, he entered into a private link, reserved for each student to take notes. He opened his note page and began to type.

By the time you read this, I will own you. What is my name? For security reasons, I cannot say, also, I don't know how to spell it in this Alcauldian script; your written screed is much more complex then the simplicity of my own superior code.

I demand no money for your pitiful currency is useless to me. All I demand is your complete cooperation for my experiment. Regardless of your decision to comply, you will be subject to research and processing. Know this, that those who do cooperate will have the chance to experience a whole new mind and feeling then is possible by your primitive species. Failure to comply will result in loosing their freedom.

The sorceress was only just a prelude to the enemy you will face. The rewards for joining my army will be great, both materially, emotionally, credentially, and mentally.

As you may have already known, there was a campaign recently against a sorceress beyond boundaries that were not meant to be crossed. When this boundary was crossed, it created a catastrophic glitch in time, space, and reality known only as the Wayward. Left unchecked, the Wayward is a freakishly deadly foe even more so then a thousand sorceresses. Fortunately, like the sorceress, this power can be harnessed. The harnessing of this power will open untold opportunities, and I gladly invite all of you to join me! Though, defeating the Wayward with only your primitive weapons, your magic and Guardian Forces alone will not catch it, that's why your cooperation will be appreciated for the perfection of an ideal, Wayward catching army. Oblige to this message and you will be gods, and share in the spoils. Deny it, and your god cannot help you!

As Nida finished his typing, he hoped his message was convincing enough. Popping in a disk to the drive, he saved the file. Ejecting the burnt disk, he made for his own dorm.

The place had become a mess over time, and was pilled up with books about history, economics, global geography, seismology, global political history, and a few comic strip books. Crouching down, he filed through the mess under his bed, finally emerging with a cardboard box in tow. He set the box down on his desk, opened it, and took out something that looked like a square lens. Turning on his desk computer, he put his disk in the drive and opened the file. Onscreen, he moved the arrow shaped cursor to an unusual menu item entitled convert. Clicking it, a message box popped up and demanded three passwords, Nida typed in all of them. The message box informed him the codes were accepted. The screen went blank for a second, showing only a hallow bar. A number was over the bar that started at zero. As the numbers climbed higher, the hallow bar filled with white.

The process took quite awhile, well over an hour to be exact. When it finally reached one hundred percent, a dinging sound chimed from his onboard speaker, informing him that the loading process was complete. Nida but down the comic strip he was reading. He stared at an interface window that had completely changed from the standard Garden one. The window was completely white; a boarder of solid black was around it. In the middle of the screen was some sort of arrowhead pointing upwards. Lined on the right of it were three words reading: Tointai, Gwellain, and Salsaed, all written in Alcaudian script. On the left were three words written: Dwaemraik, Ktnaahl, and Oes. The cursor had remained its arrow shape, but had become black with a green outline.

He clicked on the word Ktnaahl. Up popped another message box, written also in Alcaudian script, but in another strange language quite alien to the island. On it were four boxes with the words: Mae, Smaan, Duhas, and Liim. He clicked on the box reading Mae. A scroll box listing all sorts of files was shown before him. He scrolled down till he found the drive that held his burnt disk. Clicking on it, he was shown his recent file. Upon opening it, he was graced with a typed window of the document.

The computer sat there for a second while he fished through the cardboard box again. That time, he took out another disk, only it was completely blue, and it had no hole in the middle. He ejected the other disk from the drive and put that one in. Getting back to his computer, he touched an option on the menu bar, opening up a smaller menu. He clicked on the option nois. The computer made a squealing buzzing noise for a second before another message box appeared, still written in that odd tongue. A click on the only button available, all the windows were closed, sending him right back to the start page with the arrowhead on it.

Nida clicked the word Oes, and the screen went blank again with the same loading bar. Only instead of filling up, the white receded. He ejected the disk, grabbing the small square lens. He snapped the lens into a small, black frame and stepped to the window. Opening the Venetian blinds, he held the blue disk up, reflecting the evening sunlight. He centred the framed lens in front of the reflected light, adjusting the distance between that and the disk until the beam of light was close to a pinpoint. With his index finger, Nida pressed a small button on the black frame. The lens dulled in colour for a second, then turned yellow.

The lens was set. All he had to do then was wait for the sun to set, and for every student and staff member to retire for the night. If not all, then at least most.

Currently, the Garden docked somewhere in the Great Plains of Galbadia, somewhere near Timber. When he had heard of the blunder with Squall, he had sent Dina out for reinforcements. He never really trusted that guy from day one. He was odd; more then odd; he had all the makings of a psycho. When he finally did snap and take it all out on the Headmaster, he knew it was time to tie him down. Though his experience on the battle field was lax compared to those of his fellow SeeD initiatives, he knew enough from business that a psychotic rival on the loose meant a wrench in the tool box just waiting to get stuck in the engine. In a way, it was a most welcome act for him. He knew the Kramers. He knew their history. They were like him: not human. They were descendents of wealthy colonists who came to the planet centuries ago. They had disguised themselves well, fitting in with the human species, behaving as if there was nothing different about them. At first, their ancestors settled so they could keep tabs on their old, old, very old investment. The planet had been in his people's sights for millions of years for one reason: a solid resource so plentiful on that world, so abundant, it would pass off as renewable as sunlight, but was in such rare quantities on his own world. They called it Echo Sludge. That amazing substance was the source of every trickle of magic on the planet. The sorceress's bones were composed of the stuff in the form of Echo Crystals. It welled up in small pools known as Draw Pools, or Draw Points, as he had come to call it at Garden. It was in the marrow of monsters in the form of Echo Paste. It took the form of the mysterious Guardian Forces in what he called Echo Ether. And it created the various forms of magic. For paramagic, there were three types: Offensive, or Echo Snap, Regenerative, or Echo Warp, and Indirect, or Echo Twist. True magic, he called Echo Vapour. The Kramers had even experimented with Echo Sludge, fusing it with human DNA to see what would happen. There were no physical effects, but the mental powers of each individual were greatly increased, and came in such variety. They called them: Echo Hosts.

Then it happened, the Kramers turned traitor to their cause, taking the side of the natives, destroying the family trees of the Echo Hosts, and wiping out their footsteps. Since only a couple decades ago, they had lost all contact with their ancient investment. That was, until Nida and his Mother came back.

They had come to that planet for one reason, but Nida had found another reason very soon. The Wayward, they called it. A phenomenon with no purpose, no explanation, taken physical form eventually. The power of such a being was unfathomable at best; every Wayward was different, created from a different phenomenon, with a different manifestation, and different power. It was also surmised that the Wayward would have very little, or no control over their own powers. It was no theory; his people had attempted to catch a Wayward three other times. The ancient records of survivors described the fight with the Wayward as: 'inconceivable', 'god fearing', 'freakishly random', and surprisingly, 'terrible to both parties'. What else made the Wayward so terrible and enigmatic a being was what it was physically. They never got a live specimen, but none was needed to know that they were creatures not of their universe. How it happened, they did not know, but the Wayward took on properties completely alien to the very definition of 'life form'. It was what they called a psuedobiogen, creatures that fallowed not only a completely different rule of biology, but of physics. As a result, they were not 'alive', nor were they 'non living', just 'functioning', creatures from inside a black hole. His people and the psuedobiogens had not had the best relationships. It had started back at the time when they were experimenting with wormholes. They had gotten past the event horizon of a black hole, thinking there was nothing there; they took a few recorded images. A few days later, an enemy that they could not defend from attacked them. It was later discovered that their recording technology converted to some sort of beam, destroying property and psuedobiogens on a course that took multiple light years, and detours. The act was labelled hostile; they attacked them, and the rest was history. That was also the time they discovered Echo Sludge, residue left over from their decayed bodies. Why had Echo Sludge only have come to them from an ultra alien line, yet the planet he was currently on had such a concentrated amount?

Did it have something to do with the being the natives called Sorceress? Though the Sorceress remained biologically organic beings, they had the Echo properties of magic at their beck and call, somewhat like a pseudobiogen in an organic suit. There had been many stories of the Sorceress told throughout the planet's history, but many were vague legends with rusted specks of truth that could no longer be proved. And the most recent documents had barely any information that Nida wanted. He had been stark lucky that he was given access to the most outlandish tale of a sorceress so powerful, she was able to crush boundaries guarded by solid physics and manipulate universal order. An act like that was enough to create a Wayward, and it would be on the planet it happened! Though, he couldn't subside that nagging itch that the existence of such Echo manipulators, vermin being shot forth from the moon, pools of pure power, and the fact that the very planet had conceived four prior Waywards, were all connected.

A scientist, he was not. A theory of the existence of a Wayward was not to be taken lightly, but he was sure that putting everything together would prove his point. On his desk was a paperback book entitled, Dr. Odine's: Wildest Theories by the Craziest People. He would be after the author soon.

Dr. Odine. I can't wait to meet you.

That very thought echoed past as if he had said it out loud. It seeped through the walls like radio waves, it flew on the sunset air like a bird, bursting like an atom bomb, radiating that one thought throughout the globe, over sees, train tracks, badlands, salt flats, a canyon flooded with tar┘

"Dr. Odine. I can't wait to meet you."

Squall shot his head up when the thought inserted itself. Had it been Cloak telling him something. The message had no voice printed to it, still, there was a name attached to it; if not a face then a name. What was that name? What was Cloak getting at? Or was it Strychnine? The voice was much calmer then that of the blackened apparition, but Strychnine sounded much more innocent.

They had ran out of ideas before they even thought of them. It was cross the Black Canyon, or die. Bishop walked in front, keeping slow steps and downward glances. The tar bubbled and steamed viciously like soup forgotten on the stove. Sly walked behind him, placing one foot gingerly in front of him, keeping his balance and Squall's. The boy had his arms wrapped tightly around the bird's neck, tightening his grip when he had heard the strange message.

"Sly," He began in a shaking whisper. "Is that you?"

Already, the chocobo had proved beyond a doubt that he was no chocobo, or, at least no ordinary chocobo. Then, what was he?

Cardinal walked behind next, keeping an extra eye out for Squall to make sure he didn't either slip, or hint at any spell. Deacon was right behind her, acting much more anxious, wanting to get past the horrible smelling Canyon of Scalding Death. Was it his imagination, or did the tar just attempt to squirm up the side of the canyon? The fumes were probably getting to him.

A huge air bubble manifested itself, reaching two meters in height, and two hundred and some litres before popping. The searing black slime sprayed all over the canyon, hitting Deacon in the eye, Sly was sprayed in the leg and wing, and Squall was hit on his shoulder.

"They found us!" Cloak shouted. Immediately, he snapped at attention, looking towards the direction the tar hit him. Every drop of tar the bubble had sprayed started to grow; spreading like a culture of algae until the culture grew dark veins that meandered outward. The spot that got on Deacon's eye began to grow. In a panic, he tried to claw at the dark ooze as it grew and burned his delicate cornea. The tar that splashed on Sly was growing as well, even the speck that got on Squall. He felt the burning grow around him as the tar spread, warping itself around his arm. He clutched the bulging tar bubble with his free hand, yanking off a fair portion of it. In his hand, he squeezed it and sloshed it through his fingers. It started to grow on his hand as well, completely coving it in scalding black. The tar that ran between his fingers lapped out towards each other, creating filmy black webs.

The feeling of the tar engulfing both his left arm and his right shoulder was disturbing and morbidly hot, he could hear the tar bubble and sizzle as it crept around him, boring into sensitive skin. He grabbed a handful of tar with his partially broiled left hand, only to have it engulf it as well. Though Squall was concerned it would grow until it smothered him, he did not foresee what was to happen next. The greasy veins that grew out of the sludge on the canyon wall stopped radiating outwards, and grew towards a definite destination: upwards. Shooting past the wall, the slippery vines of black curled tightly around Squall's ankle, yanking him off Sly, and towards the canyon bottom. He thought something was wrong when he felt the tar slap and curl around his bony ankle, but none more so then when he was yanked off of his steed, hitting the boiling surface quite forcefully.

Cardinal squeaked with high concern, warning the other two of what had happened. Bishop looked downwards, trying to think of how he could retrieve Squall from the oozing maw.

For someone who barely knew how to swim, water was frightening enough. The tar was much thicker then water, and Squall found it exceedingly hard to move. He tried to find his way to the canyon wall, hoping he could hold onto something, but the tar was much too viscous to treed anything. The scalding heat dug into his flesh, a stark contrast to the freezing mud in the jungle. Though he was only caught then in mud, he knew he would sink all the way to the bottom that time. He could hear the cries of the three Moomba, and the squawks from Sly, in vain, trying to find a way to free him. He kept his head up as best he could, listening to the distant squalor even as he submerged completely in the tar. The searing heat that attacked irked and tormented him more then what he could say. It filled every orifice on his body, sliding down his throat with a bitter taste that would have choked him long before the lack of air did. Though blind he was, both by tar and blister, he saw something. Something faint; and green.

"VΞÞOΔ!" Cloak shouted.

It was awful for her, Cardinal cried as she saw Squall sink below the tar, yowling as Bishop shook his head sadly. Deacon tried to comfort Cardinal. Sly continued to look down, warking as he saw the patch where Squall sank gather a huge bubble, about three meters in diameter, popping like some sort of geyser. The spraying tar hit the tar from the offending bubble head on, causing it to dissolve. It hit the growing black patch on Deacon's eye. The waxing filth melted right off, but the poor Moomba had already lost his eye to it.

From the receding ripples a humped over figure emerged from the tar. A pointy snout pointed forward towards the east. It opened its mouth filled with scalpel sharp teeth, emitting a horrifying screech that caused the Moomba to grind their teeth in agitated reflex.

Strychnine snapped her jaw shut with a resounding clash that echoed off the canyon walls. The tar had dripped off her face enough to expose her bleached white skull, hanging under her jaw like some large, slimy black beard. Around her shoulders, Squall held on. He tried desperately to cough, but he could gather no air as the tar had completely closed off his throat. Gagging rather fiercely, he dug his fingers in his mouth in an attempt to shovel as much of the offending goo out of his windpipe as possible. The lack of air made it exceedingly hard to focus, and he found himself driving his hand far enough down his throat to make him gag even more. Some of the stuff dripped loose, down his throat, but it was enough to allow his hand to grab a glob of it, pulling it out, the glob leaving a sticky black trail behind it. He drew in a very deep, very raspy breath as he put his hand back on Strychnine's shoulder with a less then appealing slop. Though, he was still deathly afraid of swallowing.

The tar bubbled madly around the young Guardian Force. It seamed every bubble that popped uncovered other humped figures. Though smaller then Strychnine, they were many. The tar that hid them fell, revealing the intruders as skeletons: vicious, screeching skeletons, some with horns, some with hair, some with both, and some with no jaws. There was one with ram's horns, one with long, slimy hair that only grew from the crown of its head, another with two pairs of long gazelle horns, one had fangs and a long, thin horn sticking out of its forehead. One had an impossible mess of greasy black hair and a twisted jaw. All of them attacked Strychnine, bony claws outstretched to tear the intruder apart. Lifting her two scythes, she threw them away mercilessly, though; they would always come back up. Even those that broke upon hitting the rocky wall; would always rejoin together to attack anew.

The offensive din of the vile undead, Squall did not hear, for the tar had clogged his ears up. But Cloak, he did hear.

"Busy little devils, eh?" She chirped. "You know what I wonder? Why they went for you and not the bird. I mean, he is closer to them, and they would have got two for the price of one..." Squall chose to ignore, but found that his choice wasn't making much of a difference. He only came to reality when one of the skeletons grabbed his ankle. Trying to shake it free, he came fast to the conclusion the monster was much too strong, and that sticky tar didn't help. Thankfully, the creature was thrown off as Strychnine turned suddenly, warding off another hoard of the undead scourges.

She didn't know how long she could keep them at bay, the tar seamed to revitalize them. One skeleton, that one with elk antlers, did not attack physically, but hit Strychnine with a spell known as demi. Squall could not hear the screeching of compressing and inflating bones as the demi shrunk and stretched Strychnine's bony head. The Guardian Force screeched again as Squall held out his hand, seemingly trying to touch one of the skeletons. With the aid of Strychnine's innate power, it was as if he could touch the bare essence of the monsters, and pull out a share of it. The captive magic he grabbed flew towards him in a flurry of blue sparks. He learned long ago that whatever magic made up a monster's essence was a good indicator for its nature. In the case of those skeletons, those 'necrophobians', there was only death, undead, and the mysterious demi, nothing that would make much of a dent in the population, but it was enough to tell him what he was facing.

A group of necrophobians screamed with agony as a huge ball of ice hit them from above. Strychnine looked away from the tumbling, frozen bones upwards to where Deacon was cheering. The other necrophobians looked upwards as well, many of which, started to scale the walls.

Oh tripe. Thought Deacon as his only remaining eye saw the undead clamber up towards them. Strychnine tried to help by batting them off the rock with her scythes, but the necrophobians were more attentive to the higher altitudes. While the youngest Moomba panicked, Bishop squeaked a distinct sound, throwing a brightly glowing ball of purity and light that sleuthed a clear path down to the tar once more. The necrophobians kept on coming, and soon the clear path Bishop paved was infested again. Cardinal raised her paw, she looked down at the approaching undead with a red violet twinkle in her left eye, and a white one in her right. Flinging her raised paw at the monsters, a powerful beam of white light shot downwards with the motion, zapping any necrophobians near it with white shots of electricity. Those hit fell down to the liquefied fossils they came from. The beam fizzled out, replaced by a white crane with a golden beak, six eyes, and each one a different colour on the rainbow spectrum. Its long legs were a shiny blue that dipped below the tar's surface. It stretched out its pure, white wings to reveal the underside as the colour of an inky midnight. From those infinite depths appeared a cat's eye, one under each wing. The left eye was red, the right was blue.

Strychnine turned around to stare at the glowing Guardian Force, the crane looked like a face, with no mouth.

The eyes under the wings began to glow fierce. The necrophobians in front of their stare were knocked aside by an invisible force that let itself by known by a spark of white as one of the monsters were hit. That was Wasis; Cardinal's crane Guardian Force, the perfect offence against anything undead. Wasis had served her for many a year, but he was not destroying their foe. The necrophobians would come back up, completely revived. Eventually, they got wise to Wasis' purifying stare, jumping onto his back and clawing away at his snowy white feathers. The Guardian Force squawked with unbridled pain as the monsters tore him apart. Eventually, he faded away; his twinkling white essence flew back to his furry host.

Once again, the necrophobians set their focus back on Strychnine, who was not at all thankful for them taking away her help.

"You can't kill anything twice." Cloak hissed.

Regenerative spells won't work here. Squall countered.

"That shit just pissed them off! Just like it pisses you off! Leave them alone, and they'll go home, waving their arms goodbye."

They tried to kill me!

"Oh, boo hoo. Cry me a river. Maybe if you stopped breathing, it would appease the bastards. What the hell did you do with that glob of tar anyway?! Huh? Shit, you even swallowed the junk and it didn't kill you! The fuckn' hell do you get off eating dead sludge...!"

"SHUT UP!" He yelled, his voice bouncing off the rock. Everyone stopped; Strychnine, the necrophobians, Moomba, even Sly. Squall slumped forward, resting his head on Strychnine's shoulder. He had to think, how could he defend against those skeletons, blind and deaf, and listen to Cloak wail.

After a long bout of silence, the necrophobians began to scream all at once. The walls rumbled around them, loosening unsteady debris from the rock. Cardinal nearly fell off the ledge from the shock wave. When the necrophobians had stopped, a large patch of tar began to violently boil and rise. From it sprouted another undead nightmare. Its body was not but a long spine that seamed to grow out of the tar like ivy. Its chest was a solid mesh of jointed bones that made it looked like a white wicker basket. The head of the monster was that of a cat's skull. A collar of six-meter long spikes was by its head, as well as eight smaller spikes protruding from the jawbone. The eye sockets of the monster were lined with red veins, and inside them were eyes: cold, empty, bloodshot, egg white eyes, devoid of any pupil, but it stared at Strychnine with malice.

With a voice strained with death, and deeper then the very canyon, it spoke: "Give me the error."

Error? Strychnine thought innocently.

"Error?!" Cloak shouted angrily.

The undead serpent spoke again. "The child."

The child? Wondered Strychnine, who turned her head to look at where Squall rested his head. Does it mean Dad?

In response, Strychnine screeched at the fiend, after which, she added. "Fuck you!" Her spoken voice radiated an echo that made the ears of the Moomba ring.

The spiked skeleton was not pleased with her response. "Then, I TAKE!" Rearing its chest, it snapped as it exploded with a shower of bone shards. The pieces that looked like weavings in a basket were actually the many arms of the creature. Ten, long, spider-like arms, each one ending in curved points. The necrophobians disappeared under the tar as it advanced forward. Hit by various spells from above, the spine tingler looked up at the offending Moomba and their squawking friend. It paid them no mind, its focus mainly towards Strychnine.

The Guardian Force raised her scythes, she would not let it get Squall. He, himself, took the opportunity to draw from the spine tingler's 'pool'. What was still not fully understood was the virtually limitless amount of magic one could draw from monsters, where as a person could only hold so much. That was why magic was said to 'pool', in them, less so then the Sorceress, but still there. The spine tingler had within it┘Squall pulled out a handful of the monster's pool, the magic whirled into his own being with fizzling light.

Raising her two scythes, Strychnine cleaved both of them in front of her, aiming for the flimsy spine of the creature. The monster dodged, its jaw chattered with a dry cackle. Out of its mouth flew a glowing orange ball that Strychnine dodged but nearly. A few more times, did the spine tingler shoot those large balls; never hitting their target, before it slashed at her with its clawed legs. Strychnine snapped at each one of them, but the spine tingler was determined to get what it came for. The monster shot its own face forward, burying its fangs in the bone of Strychnine's snout. The monster threw tar amok as it writhed and thrashed to Strychnine's own struggling. Finally, she threw the undead monster aside with one of her scythes, but it had already left a gouging would on her muzzle.

With the spine tingler down, she thought it best to get away from there. She turned around, but another spine tingler stopped her way.

The monster rasped in its voiceless rumble. "Failure is not a possibility." Its tucked chest was opened to show its ten legs, and it snapped at Strychnine. Though, while she kept that one at bay with her weapons, the first one had revived, and Squall was wide open. With its jaw, it grabbed Squall, but not without notice. The sticky fuel stretched as he was yanked back, snapping when the stress became too much for it. She felt the whiplash of tar when he was being yanked away, and turning around quickly, she lunged at the spine directly under the monster's legs. She snapped and gnawed at the bone as the spine tingler squirmed wildly trying to throw her off.

Squall tried to stay calm, but at the force the spine tingler was thrashing, his neck would have broke. Not distracted by sight or sound, he was quite able to get his hand between the monsters teeth. He tried to pry the maw apart, but found it futile.

As Strychnine wrestled with one, the other spine tingler leapt on her back, wrapping its legs around her torso. It bit into her shoulder, causing her to screech in agony. The resounding noise made the other monster flinch, letting go of Squall. If he were not going to drown in tar, he would almost consider it fun to be thrown up in the air like a basketball.

His Guardian Force noticed him flung into the air. The other spine tingler still held her shoulder, but she caught him regardless, catching him in the concave of her nearly skeletal tail. Carelessly, she grabbed the head that was on her shoulder, crushing the skull like an aluminum can. The bony beast shrieked in its pain as it sunk under the tar, only to resurface a few seconds later as if nothing had happened.

The first spine tingler dove to snatch Squall, still nestled in between the safe ribs of Strychnine's tail. But he was prepared that time.

"Skæd!" Flare. The monster was hit in the face with a huge glowing ball of white and orange. For a few seconds, the light remained after the initial explosion, the heat of it enough to refract the light around it before it faded. The spine tingler sputtered and hissed while it shook off the vile disorienting effect of the spell. For a few seconds, it was blinded, and unable to notice that Strychnine was right in front of it, scythe raised to cleave it in half. She cut off its head before it could regain its senses.

As the beast took a few seconds to revive, the second spine tingler shot a flare at Strychnine's back. She felt the heat of the spell wring the precious sinews under her jacket, but it was not enough to make her scream, not again.

"They won't go down till you give them what they want!" Cloak yelled. "Take control, you moron!"

"How?!" He shouted. "HOW?!"

Fully regenerated, the first spine tingler lunged at him, but was stopped. It stared at its jaws, held open by the human it tried to grab. Through its teeth, a freezing sensation, Squall had frozen his hands to the monster's front incisors. It could pull away at any time, taking him down into the tar with it, but what was happening to it? It could not move though, its spinal cord was as frozen as its teeth!

Cloak scoffed with attitude at the action. "Told you it was right there."

"If you want me," Squall hissed at his attacker, "you'll have to break your back, and I don't think you want the commitment."

Since the first one was held, Strychnine was free to deal with the second one. She slashed at that monster with her weapons. Many of the slashes hit, but the spine tingler would always even the score out. With enough of slashing, she held her scythes in her mouth and grabbed two of the spine tingler's legs, ripping them off like an old billboard notice. The monster screamed, but not as much as when its skull was crushed, so it went right back to snapping at Strychnine. As she tried to get in to grab more legs, the spine tingler locked its jaw on her wrist. She screamed indeed, but held enough composure that time to grab its brittle neck and snap it.

It did not scream; just dropped onto the tar and sank. Was that their weakness? She had cut the other one's head off, didn't that count? Hoping that she had found a way to beat the enemy, she turned around to where Squall held the other one by its mouth. She wrapped her hand around its neck; her long thumb circling the spine nearly twice, and squeezed.

It wasn't even much of a squeeze, the necks were just as dry leaves under a shoe. The spine tingler dropped into the tar harmlessly, the skull still stuck to Squall. It was a mystery to him as to why the skull he held suddenly felt lighter. He lifted it over his head easily, and Strychnine took it, the connecting ice shattering easily for her. She crushed the bone in her hand, the shards falling onto the boiling cauldron and sinking below it slowly.

Cheers rang from above, it was apparent from the beginning that the skeletal, scythe wielding lamia was on their side, and she had rid the immediate vicinity of their foe. Squall did not know it, he could not see it, and he could not hear it. It had been hard enough to loose his sight, was he to never have his hearing back again? He tried to stand up on his Guardian Force's spine, but the tar was much too slippery to get a grip. He was getting dizzy, very dizzy. The tar fumes were getting to him.

Strychnine looked down at the nestled, squirming black mess that lashed around inside the cage of her tail, then fall still. With a spindly long finger, she prodded Squall; both with curiosity and concern.

Dad? He wasn't moving, and she was very afraid that he was dead. The Moomba noticed as well, they also noticed the other spine tingler rise from the tar once more, stretching its legs wide, the tar dripping down between the appendages. As it opened its mouth, ready to hit Strychnine with a flaring shot, she swerved around, breaking its neck in her grip. The spine tingler fell back into the pit, but its skull remained behind, caught by the Guardian Force. She looked at the skull one last time before she crushed it.

§

So Seifer proved he couldn't swim. The fact that he tried so hard to hide that fact; then fail miserably when he actually got into the water proved as much.

The catwalk was more dangerous then let on at first glance. Several times, the grating broke, dropping several of them into the water. Though it was not a long drop, it was still hard to get them back up; they had only to construct a rope of themselves, but several of them were less then willing to do so.

Down the rickety walkway they marched, hour upon hour, with no real way of telling the time. Rocky wall to their right, broken and rusting railing of metal that dropped to dark water to the left. Rinoa lead the way, the lantern held up in front of her to lend light before them. The darkness around stretched, boasting the enormous width of the cavern. When was it exactly, that they all began to see huge pillars of metal behind the stalactites? Some were in rough shape, with more gouges in them. One, which was slashed right open, had their innards exposed to the eyes. Made up of wires, which were torn and even smaller pipes; it was clear they were not silos.

It was when they started to get the complaints again: "I'm tired", "my feet hurt", "I think I've dislocated my ankle", "we're going around in circles", "Zell won't shut up about his damn feet" and so forth, that they took another short break. There was blood spattered on the catwalk, but human bones weren't the only ones there. They were not monster bones at all, for all monsters, excluding the undead, had black bones. Scanning them with stored magic, they read as unidentified, but were as old as the human bones.

"Think they're Shumi, or moombas?" Inquired Irvine. "I mean, Moomba."

The question exasperated Quistis, who discarded a held bone shard away. "If they were, we could identify them. Now couldn't we."

"Woah there." Started Irvine with his hands up in front of him. "I want no trouble here. Just asking."

"Yeah, sure." It had been a long walk in dim light and whining company. Quistis didn't feel much like explaining anything. Well aware, many others felt the same way. Seifer went off like a beeping carbon monoxide detector. Zell had fallen in the water at several intervals because of this; and so had Irvine, Selphie, Fujin, Raijin, Watts, Red Hawk, Cody, Seth, Rinoa, Andy, Spytz, Keith, and Lucky; well, all of the Forest Owls went in at least twice. She was, as of yet, the only one not shoved in. Zell had dealt a few black eyes, and got one himself when he tried to deck Rinoa. Watts complained to a new decibel that threatened to bring down whatever ancient compound they were in. Crane kept wandering off from the group, nearly drowning in the process. Raijin wasn't speaking. Rinoa constantly snapped at people, telling everyone that their predicament was their fault. Lucky was showing off his extensive Mainstream Cuss vocabulary that Jenner picked up fast. Death threats became anonymous, but common. All logical. They were all hungry, tired, and had absolutely no idea if they were going to see the light of day.

"Dammit!" Seifer shouted. "I'm hungry. Lets stop and fry up that mutt."

Even from her point up front, Rinoa barrelled her way through the crowd to protect her faithful dog. Holding her tightly to her chest, the girl glared at Seifer hatefully.

He acted as if he said nothing wrong. "What?! You wanna starve? Fine!"

"You're not eating Angelo!"

"Well, fine then! Let's eat What's His Face, with the red hat and vest!"

"Hell no! Why don't we eat Raijin! He's got more meat!" Raijin looked relatively confused. What meat were they talking about? He had no food on him.

Quistis jumped in to prevent a fight. "No one's going cannibal!"

"Then tell that to Almasy!" Rinoa shouted at her.

"He knows what I said!"

"Don't act like I'm not here!" Seifer shouted back.

It was Quistis' turn to look at him sourly. "Then you stop acting like a barbaric jackass!" She had had enough of the whining. Was it too much of her to demand some order? "You didn't have to suggest we eat Angelo in the first place!"

That fight got everyone yelling, exhaustion and hunger making them all ornery and eager to place the blame on someone else so they didn't feel guilty themselves. Angelo began barking through the ruckus, but it wasn't at them. She had smelled something with her keen nose, something in the water. For the starting moment, everyone was ready to explode at the poor dog, until they saw what she was barking at. Rinoa rushed over to Angelo, her hand brushed over the silky coat of the animal in an attempt to quiet her, but it was no use.

There was something in the water, they could all see a shadowy hump emerge from the murky surface only to plunge back in.

"What the hell was that?" Irvine croaked, too unsettled with worry to speak loud enough.

"Maybe its something to eat." Seifer answered as softly as him.

They all jumped in surprise as the whole cavern was rocked with a sudden tremor. It had felt like that huge lump they had just seen bumped into them. The water below them started to boil, a deep growl sounded from the inky lake. Those with weapons on them readied themselves. Did they make something angry? It was very clear that there was something in the water. Zell worked up the courage to look closer, stepping lightly towards the edge of the catwalk. The water stopped boiling beneath them, and the growling ceased, though, it was hard for any of them to feel at ease.

Rinoa backed up towards the wall, for she did not feel the courage Zell had, thus, bumping into the rock unexpectedly and dropping the lantern. She cursed in Classical Galbadian at the abrupt extinguishing of the light, purging them all into complete darkness. Others were quite ready to curse at her as well, but remained quite for fear of attracting unwanted attention. Quickly, Rinoa got another lantern going. Holding the flaming ball of light in her hands, she looked up to see that everyone was looking down at her with terrified and disgusted looks.

"There...there's something behind me...isn't there." She stammered. Selphie shook her head slowly, her nunchaku poised to hit something in the gut. Indeed, there was something behind Rinoa, many things. At least a handful of the most disgusting undead beasts she had every seen. They were small, about the size of a miniature dog. Their heads were bleached white rodents skulls with a pair of long, ibex horns each. Their body resembled millipede's, dark green with rusty orange specularity, but the several dozen pairs of legs were very long, about twice as long as their horns, with maroon webs connecting each of them. Listening very closely, they could hear the subtle shloping and gloping of their slimy bodies as they moved slowly over the rock.

"What are they doing?" Asked Rinoa in a hushed voice, too scared to turn around herself.

"They're just moving on the wall." Answered Quistis, whispering like the rest of them. "Nobody make any sudden movements. They probably don't know we're here."

One of the crawling, monstrosities crawled its way up onto Watts' shoulder. Very tempted, he was, to shout and throw the hideous and horrible smelling creature off of him. He couldn't stop shaking as the creature pocked and prodded his skin with slender, slimy legs. It opened its jaw to let out a sizzling hiss, nearly causing Watts to jump. Andy and Keith congratulated him softly for not loosing it.

Seifer, however, couldn't see the reason why they should have stayed put, it made him confused and angry. The anger was enough to get him to break the silence.

"What the hell is this?!" He grabbed the small monster that was climbing up his leg and flung it over the water irrationally. "Monster's are for fighting! Not hiding!"

Quistis was about to shout; "Seifer, you moron!" when the undead monsters started to skitter in for the attack. Though, they didn't rush towards Seifer, the source of the noise, but to anybody who was near them, as if they had known they were there, they were just waiting for the right moment to strike! At once, everyone started to swat at the pests. Raijin discovered that they were very easily squished, but that they were quick enough to bite back! When they did bite, they didn't let go, Rinoa had one bite her shin, and it hurt fiercely, with searing pain radiating from the ferocious bite of the tiny monster. It wrapped its many spindly legs around her shin as it kept its jaw locked on her bone. Holding the lantern in one hand, she tried to pry the beast away with her free hand as several more were climbing up her leg. Stubborn was the monster at her shin, her prying only succeeding in tearing a bigger wound in her flesh, and not even getting the skull biter off. Another skull biter bit into her forearm. Screaming and cursing, she shook her arm wildly in hopes to fling the thing off. Rinoa couldn't take it as the skull biter's threatened to engulf her lower body. In a panic, she flung the lantern down at them, hoping to scare them off.

The biters continued, unfazed by the glowing lantern, until it exploded against the head of one of them. Immediately, the fires radiated outwards from the point of genesis, but only hurt the monsters. The rest of the group was startled and surprised when the fire came, singeing the monsters that surrounded them and had bit them. All the biters that attached themselves to the humans were dislodged, freeing their mouths only to screech. The fires abated, and the undead bugs lay all over the ground, curled up like dead spiders.

One of the biters had bitten Selphie's ear. Though, it was within her ability to heal the gaping wound, she could not replace the bit of ear that was lost, it would forever look like a rat gnawed it. Quistis used her own healing magic on herself, and several Owls. Her shirt looked torn on one shoulder, since one biter had gotten onto it. Fujin's leg was mended, but from the tears on her pants, it looked like it had been severely mangled. Both of Zells hands were still covered in his own blood. Though everyone had received some sort of wound from the bites, none had more then Seifer. Though he had healed his wounds, his blood stained clothes were torn in various places. On his left arm, the coat sleeve and shirtsleeve were nearly gnawed off! His shirt was tattered on his left. His legs looked like they had been through a bad job of dermabrasion, and his lower lip look scratched up, it would leave a scar.

"Is everyone good?" Quistis asked in Alcauldian. "No one dead?" Rinoa translated for her: "Tetuké, paka?"

"I think one of them bit my ass!" Complained Grouter.

"Hey, Rinoa!" Spitz began, "throwing that lantern probably left a little light around. I can see everyone!" It was true, she had noticed she could see everyone nearly as clearly as if they were on the surface. She hadn't noticed before, but the exploding lantern probably did leave behind some light.

The catwalk shook again as it had before the wave of skull biters, alerting everyone to the possibility that there was more monsters around. The water boiled again. Many got to the edge of the catwalk to look into the soup. It stilled, boiling stopped, nerves calmed down. What was down there? It seamed that the boiling coincided with something breathing.

Curious, Zell leaned over much closer, threatening to fall off. The room took on a rather pungent odour of wet earth and fish, causing many to cringe with the smell. The water boiled again, only less violent, just before a flash of dingy teal snapped out of the water, grabbing Seifer by the shirt and pulling him back in the water faster then anybody could comprehend what was happening. It was as if he was there one second, and vanished the next. Startled, all the group could do was look as he hit the water with a hard splash, and then submerged. Angelo barked at the receding ripples he left behind.

"SEIFER!" Shouted Rinoa, hardly believing what she saw.

"Freaking hell!" Irvine shouted. "What in Hyne's name was that tarp?!"

Unknowingly, Quistis answered him, still frantic. "I don't know! It looked like a tongue!"

"It's a monster!" Zell piped up, sounding rather excited. "Lets zap that bastard with a good dose of vitamin T!"

Rinoa grabbed Zell's 'casting' arm to stop him. "Don't! You could fry Seifer along with it! She looked up at him with teary eyes, feeling quite helpless at the moment.

"Oh," Zell recalled, "well then, I should get Quezacotl...!"

"NO!" Everyone, apparently, was unanimously against Zell. As they argued against the clock what to do, despite the best intentions for Seifer. Bellow, he continued to be pulled under. Concerned for his convenience of air, he would tug at the sticky appendage that stuck to his shirt. It would have been easier for him to just wriggle out of his shirt, but with the lack of air, his mind was racing a freeway unhindered by any speed limit. Not thinking clearly, he started to hack at the slippery teal rope with Perish. Brain going insane from lack of air, he did not take notice, nor even remember that Perish didn't really cut well in his possession.

Three lights of pale green shone in front of him, and as he was pulled closer, he could see two huge black disks between the lights, two rows of slim, pointed steaks, numerous in number, the top pointing downwards, and the bottom row pointing upwards, just like┘

TEETH! It was the beast's tongue he was stuck too, and it was going to have him for dinner! Flailing with frantic panic, his stored breath finally running out, Seifer began to loose it. His mouth opened on impulse to breath, but swallowed nothing but water; cold, dingy, horrid water.

His mind raved. BAHAMUT!! YOU BASTARD!! IF YOU WERE EVER GOING TO DO SOMETHING FOR ME, DO IT NOW!!

"Why should I spare an ungrateful hypocrite like yourself? You're death means nothing to me. Drown."

WHAT PISS ASS KING ARE YOU?!!

Seifer heard the dragon roar deep within his head before he entered a state of dizzying euphoria. The glow from the predator became much larger, more blurry, and brighter. The huge maw before him seamed so unreal, like a dream. Was that how death came about? A dizzying delirium of such light and unreal senses to calm the soul before it moved on?

As his inborn nature dictated, he felt one last urge to get revenge on his predator. His hand, he raised over his head. The light from the surface shone brightly on him as he lifted a limb that looked so huge in his disoriented state. He brought it down on the reeling tongue of the monster, slashing it in half. The predator screeched with the sudden agony and loss of its dinner. With his new freedom, Seifer felt himself floating upwards, looking up at the glowing surface of the water.

From above, the whole group stopped their restless debate as dark water broke with a tremendous splash. There was the flap of huge blue dragon wings before they disintegrated into nothing. As the splash receded, there was Seifer, his bust clearly bobbing above the surface, his lower body still weighed down by the mutilated tongue. He looked unconscious.

To his rescue, Raijin came, diving into the water after him. He grabbed his hero with one arm and swam back. Fujin, Rinoa, Quistis, Spitz, Andy, and Grouter lifted Seifer up as he was handed to him. They dropped him onto his back, seeing that he still held Perish in his left hand, the tongue was still attached to his shirt, and he wasn't breathing.

"He's not breathing!" Quistis stated the obvious.

"Well I'm, like, not doing anything about it." Irvine scoffed. "I might break his ribs." He explained sarcastically, as a certain irritated Squall had said.

"I'll help him." Selphie started cheerfully. Quistis got out of the way as she ran up, jumping feet first onto Seifer's stomach. He spit out a fountain of water instantly with the added pressure. Free of any obstructions, he coughed and wheezed as he sucked in necessary air.

Dear God, sighed Quistis as she rested her forehead on her hand in irritation. Do I know anyone who knows how to perform CPR?

"You...!" Seifer shouted at Selphie between coughs. "Last name please." He asked less annoyed.

"Tilmitt." She answered.

"...Tilmitt! What kind of stupid, moron first aid was that?!"

"The kind that saved your life." She giggled, amused by Seifer's reaction.

Startling everyone, Watts began to shout in Mainstream. :"It's not safe here! We can't even see what's attacking us...!" He ran over to Rinoa and grabbed onto her like some life preserver. "You can teleport! I know you can! Get us out of here!"

She shoved him aside irksomely. "I can only teleport myself without turning anyone inside out, or getting them stuck in some cockamamie space/time continuum! Remember what happened to Aud?"

Curious, Zell stuck his nose into the conversation. "Yo, what's this all about?! Did Watts get bitten again?!"

"No." Rinoa answered in Balambese. "He wanted me to 'whisk' all of us away from here." She held a sarcastic note to her tone, indicating how she was not ready to do so.

"That's right," started Seifer with his own sarcasm, "you're a sorceress." He dropped his sarcastic look of relief for a scowl. "WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU WHEN I WAS DROWNING?!"

Rinoa didn't falter once at his shouting, but yelled back. "I'M NOT VERY GOOD AT UNDERWATER FIGHTS, OKAY!"

"No fighting!" Quistis jumped in. "Watts has a point. You could move to Esthar and tell someone we're here."

"Or if you can't do that," Zell continued, "you can at least get us some grub. I could eat wood shavings about now."

I bet you could eat a whole wooden hutch. Scoffed Seifer. He looked over to Raijin, who was standing right beside him with his usual clueless look. And I think you have no objections either.

Translating the idea into Mainstream for the Owls, they liked the idea very much so. Finally, there was hope among them. The company cheered her on even as she disappeared into nothing, entering that place she liked to call the glass universe. The place was named so because of its shimmering refraction of the world of images. Like tiles in a sliding puzzle, she was able to move about to view every destination, every option open to her. There was a limit, of course, to just how far she could travel in one burst. The floating among the frictionless space felt like a thrill ride at an amusement part, but she was very aware that time did not move in that glass universe. She played around a bit, whirling around and doing summersaults, taking her time in finding where she wanted to go. Finally, she found it: Esthar, or more specifically, a very clean, high-tech looking dumpster. Getting into the glass universe, she found easy, the getting out was a bit of a task. To that point, she found it rather hard to get past glass, or whatever that refraction was, or even catch up to it, so she found it very easy to zoom at it blindly like an arrow. Easy enough, it was, to increase her speed in that place. Aiming herself at the dumpster, she closed her eyes and shot off at high velocity, not stopping until her head made a sudden and violent impact with something hard. She fell down flat on her stomach.

Rubbing her head, she looked up to see the shining dumpster. She did it! Happily, she got up, doing her own little victory dance. Though, the dance came to a very dramatic halt as she looked around, up at the signs of all the shops, on the shining glass streets, the voices around her, the foreign dress, and remembered that she couldn't speak a word of Estharian!

§

Pain was the first thing he noticed, excruciating pain in his head, a parting gift from the vile tar fumes. Something squeaked in his ear and nudged his head. He heard more squeaking as the probing hand was batted away. Gaining more sense, Squall felt him lying on his side on salt, many places on his skin felt calloused and cold, places where the tar had cooled on his flesh. He tried to open his eyes, but only one of them was able to, tar had sealed his left eye shut. Though his sight wasn't restored, his hearing was. He could hear the Moomba squeak, as well a something else.

"We got the tar out of your ears best we could." He didn't catch that with his ears, it spoke in his head. But it was much too masculine to be either Cloak or Strychnine, with an accent that reminded him of the Shumi. Some of the tar had collected on the bottom of his throat, so Squall had to cough a couple of times to clear it out.

"Who said that?" He spoke, his throat dry and cracked, most likely from tar and fumes.

"No one said anything." That time, it was a more feminine voice. A paw touched his face gently, causing Squall to crane his head to the left, which was actually looking up. The pain in his head made that endeavour difficult. Not only that, but his neck felt as brittle as dried clay. As soon as he turned his head, he was forced to lay it back down.

"Did you read me?" The feminine voice asked him.

Strychnine spoke next. "You did it! You read a mind clearly!"

Minds? Reading? When the hell did that happen?

"Can you get up Squall?" Encouraged the feminine voice again.

Who was the voice belonging to? "Cardinal?" Squall asked sceptically.

"Yes." Was her answer.

Putting palms flat on the ground, Squall attempted to get up. Only had he gotten his head off the ground did his elbows crack, his right knee seemed to splinter under the pressure, his back felt like dry earth crumbling, and his head weighed him down in pain and unimaginable weight did he slump back down on his side. He felt horrible, he just wanted to lie down and die. Something bigger nudged the back of him, edging under Squall's shoulder. It propped him up between two limbs, his head lay on something warm and fleshy. He, at first, thought it was one of the Moomba helping him up, but as soon as he lay propped up against something that didn't feel very furry, but more like a large hand, he had to wonder. He hurt for awhile as he was set in between the two limbs, but the pain died down a bit as he was allowed to lay down between the two digits, It started to hurt more as he lifted his hand up to feel one of the limbs. It was warm, large scales atop the digit, and the end of it harboured something rather harder that sloped upwards, almost in a curved fashion like a claw, or a talon. He was nestled between the toes of a giant bird! As to prove him right, something large, hard, and at a slight point nuzzled his cheek, the beak of that bird. But what avian could be so large as to hold a human being between its toes? Could it be? Maybe it was. A phoenix.

"Are you," Squall stated in Alcauldian, finding it was a little hard to talk very loudly. "A phoenix?"

"Well," started the giant bird in the same language, with a voice like a wizened old man, talking much like he was surprised he was talking, "you've regained your wits fast. I was afraid those fumes would have killed your sense of reasoning. Yes, I am a phoenix, though we know ourselves by another name." He held a certain chuckle at the back of his voice, making him sound rather jolly and alive to the ears.

Squall was very ready not to believe those words. A phoenix? Those illusive birds of such beauty and grace, with so much evidence of them in the form of their down and pinions, but so few have ever seen a live one, it was even suggested that the down and pinions came from a completely different animal. What were the odds? Then again, what were the odds of time compression?

Lifting up his hand as best he could, he beckoned to the great bird. "Can I feel the wrist of your wing?" The phoenix lowered his wing for Squall to feel. He felt his way along the bony wrist of the legendary avian, his fingers; nearly covered all in tar, could still feel the tingle from the down. He lowered his hand as the bird raised his wrist, fingers still tingling with the warm energy from the feathers. Though, a practical thinker, he tended to stay, he refused to have practical beliefs. Many would peg him for an unimaginative, straightforward sort of person, but that was only because he wanted it that way. It was impossible for him to stay within the realm of reason, so he had no trouble believing the phoenix when he said he was just that.

"Where did you come from?" Squall asked, his voice cracking.

"I was always here." He answered. "And fortunate for you I was. You did well fending of the Íydüj. But you needed more help with the tar. You nearly died, and like I said before, I was afraid you would have permanent brain damage."

Truthfully, he felt like he already had it. But, beside the point, "Do you knowgh-know just why I read minds."

"Most certainly. For you, are not a natural human being. Your ancestors DNA was tampered with long ago, fusing it with inorganic 'code', nucleic acid you might call it. Very illusive sort, hard to detect unless you want to find it. And, since I doubt anyone has wanted to find it, it has never been detected in you. Yes, you are one of the few remaining Echo Hosts. Because of the nucleic code within you, it has stimulated the brain unnaturally. For you, apparently, are telepathic. Fortunate for you indeed, most of the times, the nucleic acid will completely separate into a giant stone within the person, taking away their status of Echo Host and becoming Echo Carriers. And I hear those stones are painful. But there is word that they have come back and are making more Echo Hosts."

The Moomba all sat around Squall, with Cardinal squeezing in beside him. Out of the three, she was the most worried about his health.

"Who are they?" He asked the great bird solemnly.

"We call them Aban, but we barely know anything about them. They came here millennia ago, carrying their picks, and their drills. From another planet, they are, and they found our magic, and our ethereal prowess interesting. They discovered the Sorceress and decided to make one of their own: Echo Hosts. But that was a complete flop." The phoenix chuckled a bit at the memory. "There was more to a Sorceress then just mixing DNA with nucleic code. But the results were interesting all the same. So they started to examine your ancestors, and breed them. Unfortunately, the organic body would often refuse the nucleic acid, and make an Echo Carrier, and those that did stay Echo Hosts suffered an atrocious blight on the mind, couldn't distinguish between what was real and what wasn't." The phoenix stopped his tale as he sighed in nostalgia, remembering very well the pain on those faces, the stress in the eyes. That blight had been their downfall.

"I believe, that you have a word for that blight," continued the phoenix, sounding quiet burdened and sad. "We were happy to see that the blight skipped several generations, but it wasn't enough. Many of the true Echo Hosts died off, or were killed by the insane, and the Echo Carriers couldn't breed." He looked back down at Squall, whose hand was on Cardinal"s shoulder. "The blight claimed your Mother child. It claimed both your Grandfathers, and your Mother's Mother."

"It claimed Mom?" Squeaked Squall. He heard a rumbling hiss in his head, and Cloak started to cackle. "You told me she died of cancer!" He scolded at her.

"I told you she had cancer. I didn't say it killed her."

"YOU killed her!"

"The hell you blaming me for?! I'm YOURS! Not HERS! How DARE you accuse me of being an HEIRLOOM!!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He apologized to the voice, his hand subconsciously hiding his face in shame. Deacon was the only Moomba who backed away from him, as Cardinal and Bishop stayed close, fearing what he would do. The phoenix lowered his mighty beak to Squall, troubled by his mysterious and disturbing apology. He knew immediately that he was not apologizing to him or any of the three Moomba.

He brought Squall to reality with a nudge from his beak. "Who are you apologizing too? You offended no one." At first, he was afraid to say anything, scared of being ridiculed, terrified of being called weak, embarrassed by his snivelling apology.

The phoenix stayed quite, waiting patiently for him to eventually speak. "I'm apologizing to," he stuttered in his reluctance, but the phoenix was patient. "I was...was apologizing to Cloak." He disdained how feeble he sounded, he felt like sobbing, and couldn't hold back any tears.

"I see." The bird uttered softly, not knowing quite how to respond to that. "Do you...hear any other voices?"

"Yes," he sniffled. "I can hear Strychnine, snff. She's my G-guardian Force."

"Oh, but she doesn't upset you like this?"

"Snff, no.■ Squall took in a trembling breath as he collected himself. "Wh-why do I hear Guardian Forces as well?"

"That is a simple explanation." Answered the phoenix, a soft smile gracing the corners of his mouth. "You are an Echo Host, and Bïdi, the forms you call your Guardians, are from Echo, so you can hear them when you have them junctioned. For you see, Bïdi make their homes in your mind, or more specifically, in your brain, where much of your nucleic acid resides. Non Echo Hosts won't be as connected to them as you."

"Is-is Cloak a Bïdi?" Squall asked with his squeaking voice.

"I don't know." He answered solemnly. "I can't find this entity within you. But I do know why you are dying."

I'm dying?

The phoenix continued. "The wound on your leg, it radiates a disturbing poison; eating away your organic body, leaving the nuclei."

"Is that bad?"

"If you look at it that way, yes. But the Wayward is coming. It came to be from the compression of time you know all too well about, and it will determine if you are to be completely organic, or completely...nuclear? I don't know of any word for the other half, so lets just go with nuclear."

It seamed like more of a beautiful story rather then a fate. Lying on the bird's foot in pain and confusion, covered in blood, tar, and tattered clothes, it seamed everything had become surreal. High on his own self-pity, he began to mumble the first three verses of "Envri Slir".

"Oh, is synthetic blood nuclear?" Repeated the memory of what Strychnine had once said. And so the meaning of what the phoenix said became more clear.

What is the Wayward? A judge? It'll decide my fate as an organic waste of space, or some nuclear alien. How odd it seamed that Griever had already chosen his physical make-up. Griever? Will you be the Wayward? Squall extended his hands towards the sky in an attempt to reach something in his pain induced high. The phoenix lowered his beak once more, allowing him to rub it to allow him a small bit of comfort. Feeling that he had indeed reached something, Squall lifted himself as best he could to hug the beak that was lowered for him. He felt two large gashes along the side that were distinctly familiar, as well as a group of dents somewhere underneath them.

He recognized the mark. "Sly?" He whispered.