Enter The Light
Part Nine: The Dark Sleep Spell of The First Day
Standard Disclaimer Thingie: As always, Digimon, all related characters, merchandise, etc, aren't mine, they belong to blahblahblah. The Plot is mine so don't steal it or else I'll send my cows after you.
Cows: Moo? Moo!!
Miyako awoke before dawn, a dream she could not quite remember licking at the edges of her memory, urging her to act on something she could not quite determine the reason for.
She lay back down into bed, the cold of the morning causing her to pull the covers tight over her, but she was not tired, not able to sleep any longer. Pushing the covers aside, she sat up, but the air was so chilled that she immediately pulled the blankets up to her chin.
It was dark in the room still, a few unlit candles on the table near her bed. No servants had come in and lit the fire, and so the air was colder than the morning chill might ordinarily have allowed. Miyako sighed deeply and tried her best to concentrate in the cold.
The fire, lit by magic, blared to life in a roaring blaze that awoke Hawkmon from his own rest. He shivered in the cold. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," Miyako answered. "Something has awakened me." Candles lit, she hurried to dress warmly, layer upon layer of clothes added as quickly as possible.
"What do you think it is?" he asked, yawning and stretching to warm himself.
"I don't know, but it doesn't feel pleasant. I sense…," she paused a moment in her hurried dressing to examine the feelings bombarding her. "I sense a greater darkness than before – a greater danger. Something…something's wrong."
Hawkmon had flown to the fire and now warmed his feathers near the flames. "Where do we begin?" he asked.
Miyako slipped on a pair of warm boots, the last step. "We try to follow the feeling."
Takeru was in the hallway, dressed warmly in his outer clothes and looking quite concerned. He seemed in a hurry, and was walking so quickly that he almost didn't notice Miyako's door open suddenly.
"The sun hasn't yet risen," Miyako told him. "Where are you going? And without a candle to guide the way. It's so dark."
The corridor was indeed dark, silent and cold. It felt unnatural. "I didn't think of it," he answered. "I know these halls well. I was going to find Hikari."
'Hikari. Of course,' the young mage thought, berating herself for missing the obvious. "Did you feel something?" she wondered. 'Is the darkness so strong that even Takeru can sense it?'
"I woke up and I had this feeling that something was wrong. Listen," he said then, and was silent for a moment.
"I don't hear anything," Hawkmon noted.
"Exactly. You wouldn't know – you haven't spent as much time here as I have, and you don't wake up early in the morning often, but even at this time of the morning, even before the sun has risen – there is always activity. There are always servants rushing around, lighting fires before the sun rises, preparing breakfast. I'd guess that it's actually much later than we think, and the clouds hide the sun. The silence woke me, I think."
Miyako pondered this for a moment.
"We have to seek Hikari. Something's wrong, I know it. She saw something last night, but she wouldn't tell me what it was." Without waiting for her to agree or disagree, Takeru turned away from her then and rushed down the hall without waiting for her to follow. Patamon flew behind him as quickly as he could.
Iori shut the solid wooden door behind him, shivering in the cold. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his face to warm his nose. There had been frost on his face when he'd awakened, and he counted himself lucky not to have frozen in his sleep.
He'd been to six rooms already, three of servants and three of lords or ladies in the palace, and each one of them was impossible to awaken. A thin layer of the ice crystals covered the faces, and no matter how much he had shaken them and prodded them and shouted, they'd not stirred. He placed his ear close to them and could hear a quiet, hesitant sort of breathing, assuring him that they were still alive, but not much else.
The torches in the hall were unlit, as were the fires in each room. After trying six rooms and finding the occupants of each in a similar condition, he decided that he'd best find a doctor.
As he hurried through the corridors, down and up stairwells and round corners passing empty kitchens and parlors and doors behind which he was certain lay more people, asleep and half-frozen. Why had he escaped the same fate? What if each of the doctors and wizards were also in such a state, unable to help him? What had happened?
The evil was coming closer, growing strong, this was certain from the signs. The darkening clouds had been an omen that no one could ignore, certainly not one of the Chosen. And yet its meaning was unclear. What did the clouds mean? And the ice? A dark evil was present, of this Iori was certain, and it was a far greater evil than that which had dwelt in the lands to the East.
Without magic, Iori could sense no more information, but he needed little to come to his conclusion. He reached the corridor where the medical staff both worked and resided, and knocked loudly on the door to Jyou's room.
"Doctor! You must help!" he shouted.
A door down the corridor opened and Gomamon's head appeared. "Iori? Down here!"
"Oh, thank goodness," Iori said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I was afraid Armadimon and I were the only ones alive."
"No, Jyou and I are fine, too," the digimon replied. "All of these people aren't dead, anyway. They seem to be sleeping, only."
Jyou followed his partner into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind him. "I don't think it's the cold alone that did this. I think it's some sort of magic, but I'm hardly the one who could figure that out. We'd best find Koushiro."
"If he's awake," Gomamon added, frowning.
"I don't think it's a coincidence that we were spared," Iori stated as he followed the doctor down the corridor. "I wouldn't be surprised if the spell was such that it didn't affect the Chosen."
"Is that by luck, or the design of the spell?" Armadimon wondered.
"Could be either," his partner replied.
Hikari's bedroom door was opened, and Takeru and Miyako hurried to it, peering inside to find that a small crowd had already gathered in the room. The window was wide open, and a strong, cold breeze blew into the room, carrying a few ice crystals with it.
"What's happened?" Takeru asked, gasping for breath.
Sora, Taichi, Mimi, and Yamato were gathered around the window. Unexpectedly, Taichi was completely calm, simply peering out into the lightless morning as though he were thinking about the weather.
"We're not sure," Yamato answered his brother. "Hikari's gone, and it seems to be by her own will." He gestured around the room. "There's no sign of a struggle."
"There is Dark magic though," Miyako told them. "I can see it clearly around the edge of the window, and inside the room." She squinted at the window frame and moved to take a closer look.
"Did the evil take her while she slept, then?" Mimi wondered.
"No," Taichi said. "She went willingly with it, I'm certain."
"But – but why would she do such a thing?" Sora asked.
"It was no wizard that took her," Miyako announced, turning away from the window. "Not the true evil, but something working for it. Maybe the Phantomon that came to her in the forest, or perhaps Black Tailmon once again. The darkness here is not strong enough to have caused the skies to blacken."
There was a long silence.
"She went willingly," Taichi repeated. "Hikari went willingly because she wanted to find answers, and because she didn't want anyone else to be hurt while the evil searched for her." He sighed heavily and turned away from the window, running a hand through his hair.
There was the sound of hurried footsteps in the hall then, and Iori emerged, looking breathless, relief spread across his face. "Oh, thank heavens," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"What's happened?" Taichi asked.
"Some sort of spell – a curse, I don't know," the boy replied. "It's affected everyone but the Chosen."
There was a general cacophony of gasps of amazement and shock.
Jyou emerged a moment later, also looking rather tired, having run all the way from Koushrio's basement laboratory. "It's true," he reported, the noise dying away the moment he spoke. "Everyone else in the palace – Lords, Ladies, servants, all. They sleep, a deep sleep, covered with a layer of frost."
Miyako turned pale. "My sister - !"
"Yes," Iori said, nodding gravely. "Jun as well. The only ones who are unaffected are the Chosen. And Wizarmon."
Koushiro and the digimon in question entered the room just then, the wizard carrying the parchment of prophecy in his hand, a frown on his face. He looked around the room. "I sense darkness here," he stated, glancing toward Miyako for confirmation.
After a deep, calming sigh, she nodded. "Mostly around the window," she replied, and repeated her previous statements regarding the power of the darkness.
"I smell ghost," Agumon spoke up then, his powerful olfactory senses testifying. "Faintly, but it was here. Several of them. I can't be sure, but I'd guess at least several Bakemon. Maybe Phantomon – I don't know what he smells like."
"Consider yourself lucky," Gabumon informed him, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Ghosts have a bad smell. They're too far gone for me to smell, though. I'm afraid I haven't got your sense, Agumon."
"I sense Phantomon as well," Wizarmon stated. He crossed the room, climbed on to the window seat, and stood on the windowsill, shutting his eyes for a moment. The room was silent, watching him. "I have been around ghosts enough to recognize the aura of one. Yes, they were here, and I'm certain they were the ones who took the princess." He shook his head with a sigh.
"Where did they take her?" Yamato wanted to know. "And who do they work for – the greater evil that causes the darkness?"
For a long time, there was silence as the magical digimon extended his magical senses, seeking out answers. After a long moment, he shook his head. "I don't know," he finally answered.
It was so terribly cold that Shijo had dreamt of ice and snow. When he did awaken, he found that there was a layer of thin ice over his fingers, and he was not in his bed as he'd expected, but lying on a soft, warm blanket near the edge of the river. The water was flowing steadily nearby, and a small fire was lit a few steps away from his blanket, but aside from these sounds, the valley was quiet.
It was dim, nearly dark, and Shijo felt grateful for the fire. He shivered in the cold, rubbing his arms, which were only covered with the thin fabric of his sleeping garment. He had barely had time to wonder how he had come to be there and why he was there when he heard a soft footstep not too far away.
Instinctively, he stood, eyes darting around in every direction. His Koromon partner leapt in front of him.
"There is no danger here, not from me," said a voice that he had come to recognize by now. The stranger he had seen near this river before emerged into the circle of firelight. "Any danger now is in that place." He raised one cloaked arm and pointed it toward the eastern side of the river, toward the massive prison. "There is nothing else here to harm us."
Shijo shivered, half from the cold, half from fear. "Us?" he echoed. "Who are you? Why have you brought me here?"
"I'm not sure who I am," the stranger said, as he had said before. "I brought you here because you were the only one I could awaken."
This explanation offered absolutely no clarification to Shijo, and he said so, putting on a most confused expression.
"The village, in fact, perhaps the entire kingdom, appears to be enspelled in a cold sleep, a coating of ice or frost over them. I had only enough strength to break the spell of one person, and I chose you because I thought that you might be willing and able to help."
"So you are a wizard!" the boy gasped, but again the stranger shook his head.
"No," he answered. "The magic I wield is not my own. I know not from whence it came. There are gaps in my memory. For now, the only thing I am certain of is that I was told to protect the defenseless and helpless, and for that, I think I may need your help."
Shijo was silent for a moment, nodding. He turned to his partner, who nodded as best is possible for a tiny digimon who is only a head. "What shall I do?" he asked.
"The moon is nearly full," the stranger said, pointing toward a break in the dense cloud cover. "It won't be long now. There is something that I must get inside those walls before the full moon, unless we wish to wait for the next one."
Tailmon hissed viciously, lifted into the air by the harsh grip of the cloaked stranger. Black leather gloves held her up by her long white tail, dangling her many feet from the ground. A cat never likes to be held by its tail, and Tailmon was no exception to this rule, striking out viciously with her claws.
"This one is no good as is," said the one who held her. "She hasn't enough power. There has been deception at work. The master will not be pleased."
"Tell us what you have done with your real partner and we may spare this one's life," hissed another feline, this one a dark black color. Black Tailmon spread her paws, allowing the firelight to glint off her paws.
"You will pay for that insult," Tailmon said, her fury causing her to nearly spit out her words. "Let me down!" she demanded of the one who held her. "Let me down and I will show her the meaning of pain."
"You haven't the strength as you are," the dark feline retorted. "It is you who would be taught a lesson."
"Enough!" commanded the cloaked stranger. "I'll have none of this bickering. This one has not the strength required."
"She is my partner," Hikari answered calmly, the calmest voice in the room. "The only one I have ever had. I don't know what deception you think I have performed."
"But there has been deception, none the less," he returned. Hikari was silent, having stated her piece. "The master will deal with you when he returns. Take her from my sight."
"If only there were some clue within the prophecy." Takeru sighed, setting aside the parchment and leaning back into his chair. With the absence of clues from Wizarmon, the Chosen had turned quickly to the only activity they thought might help them to find Hikari and to find their enemy. "Some mention of our enemy, some place to start."
"It's a prophecy of Darkness," Sora recalled. "This was written to be read by our enemy, not by us. It's a wonder it fell into our hands, but is it a blessing? I don't know that it's helped us."
"It would not have been obtained if it were not meant to be," Koushiro said, taking the prophecy from the table. "I am not certain if we are meant to do anything, yet."
"Why do you say that, Koushiro?" Sora asked.
"When the Light has erupted," the wizard read. "Whatever has happened, I think I can be fairly certain the there has been no eruption of light."
The door opened and Mimi entered, carrying an armful of fresh candles. Despite the fact that, for reasons of space, study was conducted within the upper-rooms rather than Koushrio's basement laboratory, the wide, open windows provided little extra light, and the candles continually needed replacing.
Takeru pushed back his chair and helped Mimi to set up the candles, increasing the dim light.
"Do you think time is running out?" Sora questioned.
Koushiro frowned, reading over the words once more. "I don't know," he answered, setting aside the paper. "I have read it a thousand times and I have discovered no further meaning. Perhaps fresh eyes might find something I have not seen."
Sora took the paper and read it, silently. Mimi stood behind her, reading over her shoulder. After a few moments, she said, "This prophecy is about Hikari?"
"Most definitely," Koushiro replied.
"She is the Chosen with the power of Light," Sora reminded her.
Mimi nodded. "She possesses great power then?"
"So the prophecy says."
"I see. The power that Hikari possesses can destroy the Dark Lord, then, am I right?"
"It seems that way," Sora agreed. "And yet, it says here that 'The power of the Child of Light will destroy him, yet empower him.' How can destruction empower him?"
"That seems to be the greatest mystery," Koushiro agreed, rubbing his forehead with both hands.
"Destruction is always temporary, for all shall be reborn," Takeru quoted, looking meaningfully at his own partner and thinking of his own destruction.
"The Dark Lord will be destroyed, but reborn?" Mimi wondered.
"Oh!" Sora realized. "When he is reborn –!"
"He will be more powerful!" Koushiro finished.
The cell was dark and damp and dirty, and Hikari felt tired. She had not eaten and the lack of food made her feel weak. Even as she though it, though, she recalled the potion Koushiro had given her.
The darkness is strongest here, she realized. If I felt weak at home, I will feel even weaker here.
She shivered in the damp cold of the underground dungeon and wrapped her arms about herself. For the first time, she began to wonder if leaving the palace was the wisest of ideas.
I didn't want any one else to get hurt because of me, she reminded herself. Yet, what good will I be, here? If whoever my enemy is, this Dark Lord, succeeds, there will be even greater suffering. What if I am too weak to be of any use here?
What if all my efforts are in vain? What if Daisuke is already dead?
A fierce shiver ran down her spine, and Hikari shut her eyes, blocking out the thought. Even as she fought against it, though, sleep came and took her, and she knew no more
From the balcony, Bakemon were visible on the grounds below, moving silently between the buildings within the village. There was no sign of life from within. Everywhere, Miyako saw a thick, hazy fog of darkness that seemed to engulf the entire kingdom. No matter what direction she looked, she could see nothing but dark haze.
Hesitantly, she removed the spectacles Wizarmon had given to her from her pocket. She put them on and saw the world as it was without magic. There was not much improvement now, only a slightly brighter sort of filtered sunlight. Fearing the destruction of her sight, Miyako removed the glasses, shivering more in fear than from the cold wind that suddenly blew past her.
"We must try our best," Wizarmon said then, having appeared behind her on the balcony, carrying with him a single book. "You may have some better luck than I in finding her."
"I don't know," Miyako answered, her voice hesitant. "I had no luck in finding Daisuke."
"Still, there are many spells you have not tried," the digimon replied. "Cast again the one that you have already attempted. It harnessed the power of the wind, you said?"
She nodded, and shut her eyes, gathering the power of the wind to her and listening to all that it had to say. Far to the north, a storm was brewing along the border, a powerful blizzard. To the east, sandstorms had begun again to rage in the distant desert. To the west, and the sea, the waves crashed heavily against the rocky cliffs. Everywhere, there was little life in the kingdom, and the wind reported that villages everywhere suffered the same fate as those within the palace, covered with a thin sheet of ice, deep in the deepest sleep.
To the south, there was only silence, and yet, somewhere within the endless expanse of space filled only with helpless villagers and lords alike, there was a tiny spark of life.
So tiny was it that Miyako paid it no heed and only thought to return to it a moment later. The wind gathered itself around this one location, and Miyako increased the power of the wind through her magic, seeking out the life she had sensed.
There was certainly a vicious storm within this area now, and Miyako was thankful that the villagers were all asleep within their beds and not out and about. Still – one of them must be, or she would not have sensed life.
There was a brief spark of magic then, as well, and Miyako would have given up then, certainly, for it was Dark magic and not the sort which she was accustomed. The spark grew stronger and then Miyako was aware of not one tiny bit of life, but two. Whoever controlled the magic she had sensed had somehow brought to life another creature – another villager.
For what purpose would a Dark wizard do such a thing? she wondered, and while her mind wrapped itself around the spark of magic, around the being which had used it, she became aware of a familiarity she had not felt in some time.
For several months, Miyako had sensed this magic nearly every day, and what she could feel now was not the same and yet not different. Each wizard, each mage, each being that was possessing of magic had a unique sort of magic, a unique feel, a unique way in which their power operated, in which their magic looked. This magic, Miyako was quite certain she would never forget.
So stunned was she that she let go of the power of the wind and released the magic she'd been holding. With a gasp of surprise and shock, Miyako opened her eyes, forgetting about the magic. To the astonishment of Wizarmon, she spoke only one name, and it was not either of the names he had expected.
"Ken!"
A heavy door slammed shut with a bang, and Hikari opened her eyes. She didn't know how long she had been sleeping, but it felt as though it were not for very long. She had not dreamed and she had no memory of sleep, only of shutting her eyes and then opening them. She shut them again.
Someone, somewhere – it felt as though the real world were thousands of miles away – was taking her head and gently lifting it. Somewhere, something was being placed against her lips and cold water was pouring into her throat.
She coughed, suddenly aware of the water, and sat up, pushing away whoever it was that was giving her the water. "What - ?" she managed to say, and then collapsed into a fit of coughing.
"Drink," said a voice, a soft whisper of a voice.
Hikari felt as though she had breathed in a pile of dust. She took the small mug that was thrust into her hands and drank, thankful for the cool liquid that soothed her parched lips and throat.
The one who had brought the water to her knelt nearby, waiting for her to finish. When she had drank all the water, she turned. It was not a ghost, nor a digimon, nor the cloaked stranger, but a plain, dirty-looking boy dressed only in rags.
"Who are you?" she asked, and despite the water, her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.
He said nothing, however, only took the mug back from her and had left before she could say another word.
Miyako felt exhausted, drained of her magical energies after so many spells.
Wizarmon was watching her with concern. "Perhaps that is enough for today, milady," he suggested.
A blast of strong wind threatened to blow them both from the balcony. Miyako gripped the protective railing with one hand. The wind died down. "I think you may be right," she said, sighing deeply. "I have sensed nothing of Hikari. I hope she is not beyond our help."
"You did sense something, however," Wizarmon reminded her as they both returned inside. "Something alive - ?"
She shook her head dismissively. "Not what I was searching for," she answered quickly. "Nothing that will help us now. It's best not to think of it, even."
The sun had risen and trekked across the sky and sunk again in the west, and through it all there was no change in the light nor the temperature. Shijo stared up at the grey sky, scarcely able to believe that an entire day had passed.
He'd spent the whole of it along the edge of the river. There was no sign of fish in the water below him. Nothing but Bakemon had come in and out of the prison and passed along the road, going to the village and then out, endlessly patrolling the land. Shijo stayed hidden in the thick brush and grass at the edge of the river and waited.
The stranger had left some time around what might have been midday. His parting instructions had been simply to remain hidden and quiet. He'd said nothing of where he would go or when he had return. Although Shijo knew that he had little choice in the manner, some part of him still wondered if it was safe to trust this strange visitor.
"I have brought you some nourishment," said a voice then, interrupting his thoughts. Shijo had been so intent upon watching the Bakemon that he had not noticed the stranger's return. He carried a small bundle in one hand, and he held it out now to the boy as though it were a peace offering.
Shijo had eaten nothing all day, and he took the bundle from the stranger without questioning, only a bow of thanks and a muffled word of gratitude before he began to eat. "Where have you been all day?" he asked when he had paused long enough to take a breath.
"Surveying," the stranger answered. "The only beings roaming about are the Bakemon, and it'll be difficult, if not impossible, to get past them and into the building." He turned to face the formidable black prison behind him.
With his mouth half-stuffed with a loaf of bread, Shijo wondered: "What is it you want to bring inside, anyway?"
From within the folds of his cloak, the stranger produced an object. It was a small, wide, golden-colored ring, slightly too large to be worn as a bracelet. "This," he answered.
Shijo took the object in his hands and examined it. Even in the dim light, it seemed to glow, to emit some sort of a dim light. "It feels warm to touch," he realized as he held it. "What – what is it?"
"Who does it belong to?" Koromon wanted to know, peering up from his partner's lap.
The stranger simply shook his head. "The gaps in my memory are too large for me to recall. I'm fairly certain, however, that someone in there does know, and can return it to its rightful owner." Again, his eyes moved toward the prison.
"It can't be evil," the boy thought aloud, turning it over in his hands. "It feels too…too good. What could its owner be doing imprisoned in there?"
"Nothing pleasant, I assure you," the stranger answered. "I set to you the task of bringing this to the person that needs it. Can you?"
The day had passed and the sun sank, unseen, in the western sky, hidden by the fog of dark magic and cloud-cover. Miyako paid only partial attention to Koushiro as he spoke of the progress that had been made determining the meaning of the prophecy, and even less attention to the discussion that followed it. Her mind was wandering many days' journey from the spot on which she now stood.
A shiver ran down her spine at the sight of another Bakemon floating below the window. All day, the ghostly digimon had been moving around the palace, for some reason incapable of entering. Miyako supposed it had something to do with magical barriers, but was too preoccupied to think any further on the subject.
"There's been no luck reviving any of the others," Jyou was saying, and it was at these words that Miyako's attention returned to the conversation. "It's as you said, Koushiro, a spell of some sort, and nothing I've tried can wake them." He shook his head, glumly. "For the moment, everyone seems to be fine, but a few days without food or water and that will change."
"So we need to work quickly," Yamato concluded. Whatever else he or anyone else said, though, was lost to Miyako, who had caught sight of another ghost outside and watched its progress, absently following it across the grounds.
'I wonder if Ken knows what's going on,' she thought to herself, and allowed her mind to drift even farther away from the room she was in now. It felt like only moments later that a hand on her shoulder awakened her from her trance.
"You've been quiet," Sora said, sitting on the window seat beside her. "What is it that worries you now? Everything?"
The room had emptied, the meeting was over. Apparently, the others had decided to sleep for the evening. Miyako sighed deeply. "Everything and more," she answered simply.
"Made no progress – found nothing today? Wizarmon didn't say."
"I found something," the younger girl responded, getting up from her seat and turning away from the window. She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. The fire was slowly dying and the room was growing colder. Seeing this, she moved closer to the fireplace.
Sora was pleased and surprised. "Oh? Why didn't you say anything? Was it something helpful?"
Miyako shook her head, shutting her eyes. After a moment of concentration, the blaze grew stronger and the fire's warmth and light again bathed the room.
"What was it then?"
Despite the warmth, Miyako shivered as she turned from the fire. "Ken," she answered, her voice barely a whisper. When Sora didn't immediately reply, she continued, "I sensed nothing else alive and awake in this kingdom – at least as far as my senses could reach – as far as the wind travels. South of here, however, I sensed life. A tiny spark of it, but life nonetheless, and a life not bound by the same spell as the rest of the kingdom."
"And that was Ken?"
She nodded. "I recognized the feel of his magic instantly. It's the same – and yet, different. I think – I don't know what to think. I'm happy he's alive, but the magic – the magic confuses me."
Sora nodded but was silent, absorbing the news.
"This only raises more questions instead of answering them!" Miyako said, her voice showing her frustration. She took a deep breath. "He's good, I'm certain of it. Whatever it was that made him into the Kaiser, it was nothing from inside of him – it was some outside force – and that force gave him the magic. It wasn't his, I don't think. I don't know. If it was, it would have been dormant as long as my own. It's still there, though, the magic, and he still has some use of it."
"He's used the magic? How do you know?"
"I felt another life."
Another gracious thank you to the readers who put up with my meandering rambles and the endless delays in posting this stuff. I'm working on it, I promise!
That aside, I must apologize for the insane lameness of the conventions of style that I use. Bah! Gah! I'm halfway between admiring myself and running away and denouncing that it wasn't me at all, but someone else using my name to write this stuff.
Ah, I'll take credit. Thanks for reading it. More will come soon, I swear!
Ja ne.