"Well, Colonel, what do you think?" Ion asks, eyeing the complicated sigil emblazoned on the ground in the center of the entrance chamber. Beyond him the door to the Sephiroth pulses with fonic energy, glowing gently; it provides a surprising amount of light for being what it is, however eerie a shade it casts over the ruins surrounding it. "I am nearly certain that this is Daathic in origin, but I've never seen these specific verses combined like this."

Jade's gaze is intent. "I can't claim to know the intricacies of Daathic artes, Fon Master, but judging by the meaning it does look like it was intended to either shake the seal to the Sephiroth or amass large quantities of the second fonon. Perhaps both."

Unnoticed in her spot between two crumbling pillars, Wit gives the pair a rather dry look. Can't claim to know the intricacies of Daathic artes? You probably figured it out when you first saw it, Colonel.

"Something about this place makes me feel uneasy," Guy says to Luke. They both sit against the only remaining wall, watching Ion and Jade with bored looks.

Luke lets his head fall and hit his knee with a thunk. It echoes. "No kidding."

"Well, these are the ruins of an underground city," Tear says, cautiously leaned up against the next section of bricks that aren't a crumbling wreck. Her staff is in her hand, ready for action at any moment. Wise girl.

Wit glances at the sigil, then the sealed door; she looks away. Ruined indeed. Exactly the sort of mysterious that leaves you with more questions than answers and a vague sense of unease in the air, like some trace still remains of the madness that encompassed the city on the day it fell. She isn't sure she likes that. "Well. If we're talking 'uneasy', that sigil screams 'trap' to me."

"It's just a big symbol on the ground. What's so iffy about that?" Luke asks, frowning as he stretches his arms.

"Think about it. Daathic fonic artes are some of the most powerful artes in existence—period. What is one doing just sitting on the ground like that if Ion is supposed to be the only one capable of placing them by virtue of being the Fon Master? He couldn't have done it. He's been with us the entire time. So who put them there, how, and why?" By the time she is finished, everyone in the room is looking at her—even Jade and Ion. She leans back against the wall, crosses her arms, and tries not to feel hunted under the weight of their combined gazes.

Well, damn, she thinks, absurdly amused by her own discomfort. Now you've done it. You pointed out the obvious. Congratulations.

"Astute," Jade says, and she isn't quite sure whether it's a compliment or not—but the look in his eyes could be construed as approving, so she decides to run with that. "And curious. I must admit to wondering who—or what—put this here, myself. As it stands, I think we can be relatively certain that this sigil drew enough second fonons to itself to cause a significant disturbance in the fonic balance of this area… however, whether that was the cause of the sandstorm or not would require further examination of the area, as I would expect it to take more power to upset the Planet Storm. Unfortunately, we don't have the time to examine it."

Ion nods, though his brows are furrowed with worry. "The sigil looks like it can't be activated again, so I think if we leave it alone, it should be fine. Though I might send a team out here when I have the time… the existence of this sigil at all concerns me greatly."

"As well it should," comes a voice, and the group collectively tenses. "After all, now that you've seen this, I'm afraid I'm going to have to bury you here."

From a towering, ruined spire that disappears into the endless cavern ceiling, what looks like a blur of green leaps down and lands in the middle of the glyph. A boy in an impressive raven-shaped mask stands from his crouch; the sigil lights up with him as Tear pulls Ion behind herself and Jade leaps back. Luke and Guy are already standing in front of the rest of them, tense and ready for a fight.

But Wit recognizes that mask, and her hand tightens on her warhammer. Sorry, Aran.

"Sync the Tempest," she murmurs, drawing another round of glances from her companions. "God-General of the Oracle Knights."

"Some nobody has heard of me? Guess I need to inform someone that his officers are falling down on the job," Sync comments, arms crossed. "Whatever. I'll do that after I crush you lot."

"Please, wait. How do you know Daathic fonic artes?" Ion says, leaning out from behind Tear. She pushes him back with a frown, and he stays, but looks hopefully at Sync through the gap between Tear's torso and her arm.

Sync tilts his head, a curiously nasty smirk finding its way onto his face. "Wouldn't you like to know, Fon Master? I'm not about to talk this out. What use have I got for diplomacy? Fight for your lives… if you can. Maybe I'll tell you then."

He takes the initiative in a breathtaking burst of speed, forcing Wit, Luke, and Guy to scatter as he lands in the middle of them with a slash.

"Luke, Guy," Jade barks, drawing fifth fonons in a circle around him. "Offense! Wit, mid-range!"

With cries of acknowledgment, the two dart for Sync—who, in turn, weaves through both of them, jumps back with a sneer, and begins casting his own arte.

"Hold back, Tear!" Wit gestures for her to stay with Ion and waits until Jade's arte goes off, throwing Sync into the air with the force of the fiery explosion, to barrel in and hit the God-General with an upswing.

Sync gasps in pain (she thinks she sees Guy wince in sympathy), but he lands on the ground feet-first some feet away and sends all his gathered fonons into the sigil on the ground with an angry hiss. He looks up. Wit gets the distinct impression he's glaring at her. "You'll pay for that!"

"Why are you even doing this? What is it going to—" Wit starts to ask, distracted, but suddenly he is there and swiping at her with those wicked-looking half-moon blades. She jumps back in the nick of time, still shocked at his speed. Luke covers her retreat with distinct unease.

She grits her teeth when she feels Sync gathering fonons—all that did was buy him time, it seems. Beneath their feet, archaic verses inscribe themselves under the extant ones; even the hit Guy scores on Sync doesn't seem to deter him.

"Be careful, everyone! He's modifying the arte!" Ion calls out as Tear starts chanting and Jade hurls his spear at Sync's chest, forcing the boy to move or risk impalement.

"Ugh, your voice is so annoying! Just shut up already!" Sync yells, using the sigil to pull a massive amount of second fonons to him. "Stone Dragon Ascent!"

Wit mutters something unflattering under her breath and hits the ground at a roll that leaves her somewhere near Jade; she stands just in time to feel her left shoulder explode in pain as a falling stalactite grazes it, and she falls to her knees with a pained gasp. What the hell, she thinks. What's in that arte—

"Up, Wit," Jade says, voice commanding, and she does not think about rising. He catches her gaze as she gets to her feet. "Assist, then stick to cover. I'm far from spent, but I will require space."

"Got it." She hefts her hammer and draws first fonons to it as surreptitiously as she can; if she can gather enough, she'll be able to add some extra swing into a hit—maybe even swing the battle overtly in their favor. The weight of the hammer and the pain in her shoulder drags her down as she shoots for Sync's back, dancing between the ominously-glowing lines of the sigil as quickly as she can. Ignoring the pain pays off: she misses the swing, but snares Sync's feet in a thick collection of first fonons. Tear shouts something and Guy responds, but her focus is keen as she refines and follows, then—locks on.

Just what she needed. "Great shadows of the night, take my enemies in your grasp and smother them in everlasting silence. May their light be subsumed by the darkness—Torpor!"

"What… what the hell," Sync manages, swaying in place; his hesitation makes room for the combined impact of a water arte from Jade and a slash from Luke's sword to hit him and force him to his knees. Luke lowers his sword in front of him, eyes hazy with exhaustion and face pale. Something's wrong with him, but there's no time for Wit to ask. Sync tips his head down briefly, then straightens it again with a snarl. "Damn it! I shouldn't have expected any less from Jade Curtiss of all people. Fine. I'll take you seriously… let's see you handle an Akashic Torment!"

Luke never had a chance. Sync's hands, already on the ground, curl into fists. The ground lights up as a Daathic glyph appears on top of the sigil and Ion shouts in alarm—

Pain explodes behind Wit's eyes as she finds herself knocked into the air by a wave of energy; sensation disappears, except for the distant sound of screaming. That's us, a part of her recognizes dimly. Luke and me. Guy too? And Tear?

Am I going to die? I can't. I can't die here, like this, after everything—

She hits the ground. Or perhaps the ceiling. She's really not sure which way is up, and if she had the time she'd lie there gasping, but some base instinct in her reacts to the vibration of feet on the ground and she rolls away just in time to avoid a half-moon blade slicing through her neck. It's just like before, with her heart in her mouth and blinding pain and terror in her veins, and she shakes her head rapidly in an attempt to clear her vision and get back to the fight. It doesn't work, but then, all the sounds of battle have ceased. She wonders why until Sync takes one step back, and then another.

"What are you?" he breathes, catching her attention, and that's when she realizes that it's not her vision that's the problem.

First fonons swirl around her, thick enough to be visible to the naked eye. They lap at her heels and dance on her hair, curl about her shoulders like an old friend, and it shouldn't feel as much like home as it does.

Wit closes her eyes and clenches her shaking fingers into fists and swallows her beating heart back down to where it is supposed to be. "Aw, hell. Not again."

Her voice reverberates, and it's not the cavern's acoustics that does it.

"This has happened before—" comes Jade's voice, sharp and questioning, but Sync's mouth thins into a frown, then curls into a wicked grin.

"O-ho," Sync says. Leans forward a little, even. "I do believe the Order will find this very interesting indeed."

No, Wit thinks, in that moment viscerally aware of the results of that possibility. All her plans and projections and futures shatter in an instant of panic. That can't happen, it can't, I can't let that happen—

Her train of thought is quite suddenly cut short by the sudden lurching of the fonons surrounding her toward Sync. He tries to leap back, but he moves all wrong; he hisses, fumbles, and falls on his leg with a wet, painful-sounding wrenching noise. In an instant he is encompassed by writhing darkness, and no matter how Wit tries to draw the fonic energy back to herself and force it into some semblance of control, the fonons run wild over and into him, flooding his fon slots with their sheer density. He doesn't scream, but his face twists horribly below the mask.

"Oh, hell," she breathes. "Dammit. This is bad."

A gloved hand lands on her shoulder and blue fills the corner of her vision. Jade. Not entirely a comfort. That's fine. His hand isn't entirely intended to comfort. "Elisa. Calm down."

"I can't control this!"

"I can see that. Be glad that it's wreaking havoc on our enemy and not on you." There are so many questions in his eyes that she has to look away, swallowing, until she's drawn in several deep breaths. It doesn't really help anything—in fact, it almost makes it worse, seeing everyone else unconscious already—but it's the thought that counts, brings the memory to mind that lets her clamp down and ignore the way her hands are shaking.

"Sync isn't going to wake up for a very long time, if ever," she says finally. "That right there is raw fonic energy responding to me. As far as I've been able to determine, anyways."

"…As I was asking, this has happened before?"

"Once. Wasn't pleasant."

Jade's expression flickers too fast for her to parse. A part of her thinks it might be frustration, but she pushes that part away and focuses on the now. He only raises an eyebrow. "I will require more information than that, Elisa."

"Can we do this later?" she asks, looking down as the first fonons dissipate into the shadows, their purpose finished, and leave the area lighter and Sync motionless save for the rise and fall of his chest. It's been a long time since an incident like this has happened to her with witnesses around. "We should probably get everyone else on their feet so Tear can heal us all up."

"I suppose that would be prudent," he grants, clearly unenthused by the idea of leaving answers for later, but makes for the item bag next to Ion's feet regardless. He pauses and glances over his shoulder. His eyes pierce through all the shadows in hers. "But we will talk."

She smiles, because she doesn't know what else to do with the heavy weight in her chest except to begin recalculating her options. "Yeah, I figured."