Jak and Daxter: Legacy

Chapter 11: Gods and Mortals

Jak's first instinct was to reach for the ottsel clinging to him. But when he moved his arms, something gently pushed against them. There was so much red and green and, he realized with a small smile, warmth. He eased again and resigned to their pressing with a long exhale. Whatever they were doing, it felt nice. And wherever he was, it was wonderful, like drowning in sunlight and balm.

But there was no fur or orange or weight on his chest anywhere. Something not pleasant - a little flame in his heart all too familiar - flared as he wondered where it'd gone. Jak reached out once more. The force held him down again.

"Where..." he slurred out, not even sure the word came out right.

Fragments of whispers ensued, resounding endlessly, crossing and beating against each other like ripples of water from different drops in a pool.

"He spoke."

"Shh… it's not time to wake him."

"The healing is not done."

"Not done."

"Is he ready?"

"Ready?"

"We must get him ready."

"Keep him under."

"The dawn is near. Is he ready yet?"

"Soon."

"The healing will be done soon. The bones have been mended and the skin is unbroken. From death to life."

"From death to life."

"Dax?" Jak said. This time, he opened his eyes to greater clarity. His body sore and weary, he flopped his head to the side to take his surroundings in, trying to find any orange he could within it.

Candles flickered in melted masses on the brass walls, white banners resting behind them. The symbol on their silk resembled the upper half of a red body with simple arms, and above it a wedge of a head without a connecting neck, all over a golden circle akin to a rising sun. Eco crystal shards of all colors dangled from the ceiling like pieces of a shattered rainbow, gleaming as they spun. Light eco arced in thin, ephemeral beams between them where their energies met. Any time a beam sparked overhead, the dark eco within Jak reacted, burning and numbing in waves.

He laid in a bed with a mattress not made of straw, but of cushion, softer than anything he'd ever slept on. White silk blankets enveloped him, and a canopy of red and gold gauze draped over the brass posters of the frame.

But no orange.

"Wave," he muttered, hands gripping the blankets tight. "Can't take him."

"Bigfoot? You awake?"

A little orange head with blue eyes peered into view above him. Furry paws gripped his cheeks, their arms trembling, and the voice continued. "Buddy, we gotta vamoose! It's not safe here. Ya gotta get up and… oh man, how bad did they drug ya up?"

"You're okay," Jak mumbled with a smile as he realized who it was.

"Stinkin' Precursors, I don't think we're gonna make it out of here with you all dopey like this! Well, dopier than usual. I don't know what to do! Think, Daxter, think! What was that dumb herb you blabbed about for hours the other day? It stinks like high hell and wakes ya up?"

"What's wrong? This... nice."

"What's wrong? We're in colorin' book headquarters, that's what's wrong!" Daxter glanced around, perking his ear to listen. "They healed ya up after that wave, but they're coo-coo, religious weirdos. And not the flower frolickin' kind, like you. Especially that leader one. Came over the water and saved us from those lurkersharks. Oh, and ya owe me a hundred and fifty tankers of fish now, by the way."

Jak chuckled. Daxter survived and was here. Jak lifted his weak, heavy arm and sloppily pulled Daxter tight to his shoulder. "Two hundred fish. Mm-" There was a long pause as Jak tried to remember what came next. "-hmm."

Daxter tried to wrestle free from the hug, but froze when a door made a click to their right. Jak blearily glanced over. A young human with cut ears and in leather and silk robes emerged with a tray in their hands. Their skin was painted moon white, and gold markings in round forms shone across their cheekbones and jaw. They paused upon seeing Jak and Daxter, smiled, then set the copper tray down on a low table beside the bed.

Daxter wriggled out from Jak's arm, and stood between them and Jak on the bed, hissing. The person only smiled wider, opened one of the platters on the tray, and held out a dried fish. Daxter slapped it away and hissed again.

"Naughty ottsel," Jak muttered. When Daxter turned to look at Jak, the person snuck up behind and grabbed him, then set him on the floor, unflinching at the clawing, biting, furry mess in their hands.

They bowed their head and gestured to the tray. "Food. You need your strength. We healed your broken bones and sealed your wounds as best we could, but much healing takes place within. There is a meal for your friend, as well."

Jak grinned at the word 'food'. It was his favorite thing in the world, besides Daxter, Keira, and maybe plants. But the wiser part of him poked at him through his drowsiness until he complied with it and said, "Where am I?"

They dipped their head again. "Seem will speak to you when the time is right. Until then, please rest."

With that, they left.

"Tryin' to woo me with fish, those sneaky bastards. As if I'm some dumb animal that can be tempted by a lousy-" Daxter had climbed back on the low table beside the tray, then paused, his tail perking when his eyes met a particular porcelain bowl. "That yakow milk?"

By the time Jak dragged his weary, aching body to sit upright and slide over to where he could reach the food, Daxter had already nudged the empty bowl of milk aside and started shredding into the pyramid of dried fish.

The most familiar thing to Jak was the tea, though flavored with some kind of heady spice and honey, a sweet rarity Jak had only tasted once before in his life (and had gotten stung by wumpbees for - on his ninth birthday, no less). The food itself was made up of things he recognized, but in complex combinations he'd never before seen. Meat made sense. Grains made sense. Fruit made sense. But mixed or served together, hewn from different animals and plants he didn't know, and prepared as delicately as art with sauces for paint strokes and seasoning for stippling, did not make sense.

But the flavor left him smiling.

As he ate, his awareness and ability to feel sharp pain slowly returned, whatever he'd been knocked out with fading (he assumed slumberwrought, given the quickness with which he recovered), and the gravity of what he'd done and where they were started to hit him. He wasn't afraid as Daxter was. The monks did heal and feed them. But he was certainly confused, groggy, and felt as if his body had been pressed through a mill grinder.

And he was ashamed, he realized. He'd given into dark eco for the first time on the Mistarch willingly. He at least now knew one of its secrets, not to keep it back, but to make it rage out of control, and he'd let it.

He turned and stared at the candles after he was finished eating, watching as their flames grew and receded and grew back bigger again. Then he looked to the little orange creature at his side nibbling on fish, rubbed his own throat where it suddenly felt tight, and sighed.

"I'm an idiot," he said at last.

The few next days passed entirely in the confines of that little brass room. Daxter explained in detail what had happened after Jak had passed out by the Mistarch, always calm, except for when one of the monks came in.

He'd tried to pry out of Daxter why he hated the monks so much, but the only answer he ever gave was, "They disturb me.". When they weren't talking, they spent the time sleeping, eating, daydreaming, or in Jak's case, trying to walk again. His legs weren't broken like his ribs had been, but their strength had been eaten, and it took a while before he could regularly pace the room.

At times, a song made of multiple voices had echoed down the hall to wherever they were. Daxter had called it a 'preachy screechy' when Jak had asked him what it was. Whatever its name, Jak knew by the way the chords hummed with each other with trained, inhuman perfection, that it must have been a northern tradition. Back home in Sandover, a song was sung alone, messily, with no care for correct pitch, and for the sole purpose of self expression and distraction as a farmer toiled over their crop.

Jak didn't recognize the language the monks used, but the way it made him feel told him the story without words: fear, glory, pride, pain, destruction, and somber calm, repeating endlessly; a cycle never broken.

On the third day, there was one monk that came to the room that made Daxter tremble instead of hiss. They were dressed much like the others, save for the symbol painted on their face, which matched the one on the silk banners. They brought no food, clean change of clothes, or herbs and balms to heal with.

They gave Jak a small bow, then said with a quiet voice, "I am Seem, head of the Golden Order of Mar, and the leader of Forgesong. How are you feeling?"

His heart did a little flip at the mention of Mar. He prayed to the Precursors silently, though he wasn't sure it mattered much in the face of the sacrilege he'd been committing for weeks now. Jak dipped his head in return. "Fine. A lot better, actually. Thank you."

"It was our pleasure. And the sneaky one?"

Daxter hid even further behind Jak.

"He's alright."

"That is good to hear."

Seem flicked their hand, and a sheet of red eco appeared beneath them as they lowered to sit. Jak tried not to gawk, even as they summoned two more planes of it beneath where they rested their elbows. They only stared at Jak for a long time. He sat on the bed, not sure what to say or think, their red eyes dissecting him with thoughts unknown.

"You are lucky I found you when I did. Lurkersharks were about to descend upon you. But I believe you survived long enough for a reason, and that I glanced out and saw your struggle for the very same reason. You were meant to live. If the universe let me have my way, I'd keep you here as long as you would like; we do not cast out the needy, and even after being healed by the best of our green eco channelers, you are likely still weak. Though, to have braved the Mistarch must mean you need to go somewhere with haste."

Jak was very tempted to say more, or to ask how they'd spotted him and Daxter in the water in the first place, but remembered the ottsel hiding behind him and only mumbled, "True."

Seem shut their eyes, paused for a moment, then nodded. "You must be on your way. But you are free to stay as long as you would like to gain your bearings, and perhaps enjoy the temple in which you have rested beyond this room. It is yours to peruse, and our joy to answer questions about Mar, should you have any. I will be in the main chamber. Your clothes you came in have been cleaned and dried and left by the door." They bowed again. "From death to life."

Seem left, the red eco "chair" dissipating.

"'Feel free to stay as long as ya like!'" Daxter said as soon as the door was shut, clasping his hands to his chest and batting his eyelashes. Then he scowled. "That's our cue to blow this popsicle stand. Come on, Jak."

Before, Jak would have readily agreed. He had braved the Mistarch to make good time, as Seem had said. But there was something pulling at him to stay. Perhaps it was because this was the most comfort he'd felt in weeks, or the beautiful singing he'd grown to enjoy, or the warmth of a place filled with so much light. But not even the time clock on his dark eco wound, his religious beliefs, or Daxter's insistence could have outmatched the feeling in his gut. It was something that had been with Jak his whole life.

Something he'd never been able to say 'no' to.

"I want answers," he blurted. "We should go to the main chamber."

Daxter snorted. "What about? Why?"

Jak blinked back to the here and now. He knew it sounded silly. He was a green tribe boy. Why would he want to know more about northern beliefs? He already hated their fashions, their arrogance, and the way they looked down on everything that he was. "So I can fit in more up north. The more I know about their culture before we get to Haven, the better."

"Jak, can I say somethin' I know you're not gonna like?"

"I'm a dumb bumpkin?"

"No. Well, yes. But no." Daxter walked closer to where Jak sat cross-legged on the bed and stared him right in the eye. "Ya got potato ears."

"Potato? What do you mean?" Jak rubbed his ears. "Is it pointy?"

Daxter facepalmed. "Agh, noooo! Not literally. They're a vegetable. I suppose ya don't have 'em down where you're... Whatever! Doesn't matter! I meant ya don't listen! People tell ya not to do things and, stinkin' Precursors forbid it gets in the way of whatever genius plan you cook up, 'cause ya just do 'em anyways. It's just… all this time, I've been tryin' to do my job of 'northern tour guide' like ya asked, but you keep goin' off the trail, and I gotta keep haulin' ya back."

Irritation flickered in Jak's gut. Not because Daxter was wrong, but because he knew Daxter was one hundred percent right, and he hated it. Annoying memories surfaced about healing Kunino's people when he'd told himself not to, taking Basinbreak when that Kig in the Passheart inn had told him not to, taking the Mistarch when Daxter told him not to, and…

"And three," Samos gave Jak a look so sharp it could have split iron. "You must promise me that you will not, under any circumstances, go out and try to investigate the ruins in the forest. Have I made myself clear?"

"The ruins? What's there?"

"Promise?"

Jak furrowed his brows, his hand suddenly rubbing his dark eco wound. "Are you still mad about the Mistarch? I already apologized for that. And I admitted you were right."

"Let me phrase it this way: has anything I've ever told ya not to do, but you did anyways, ended well? Or the few times ya let me lead the way, has it ever ended badly?"

Jak hesitated.

"See?"

Jak looked away, guilt melting his face into a frown.

"See?"

"Yeah, I get it!" Jak snapped, hands curling into fists. "But don't pretend it's easy for someone like me to make decisions."

"Jak, ya need to give yourself more brain credit than that. When I call ya a dumb bumpkin, I don't really mean-"

"Every time I wake up, you know what my first thought is? Gee, should I take time to cook some meat with the rice for breakfast, or would a few extra minutes now be just the amount of time future me needs to find a cure? Why do you think I took the Mistarch?"

"Yeah, but this ain't just about you. My life's been on the line a lot, too. We almost died out there! And if time matters so much, why do ya wanna spend any more of it here? Especially here?"

"Why do you hate the monks?"

"You're dodgin' the question, Jak," Daxter spat back, crossing his arms, turning away.

"And you're not?"

"They're bad people!" Daxter blurted. When Jak looked shocked, Daxter put his paws on his own head and pulled at his ears. "Just… ugh ! Can ya just trust me this once? Just this one time? For me?"

"Is it because they're religious?"

"If I hated religious people, then why the hell would I wanna stick around with you? No. They're wackos. Bonkers. Rattle-brains. End of story."

"You think my religion is 'wacko', too."

"But yours is better. It's like watchin' a doofus hug a tree and then gettin' on with his simple life instead of a cult of maniacs aspirin' to make sure everyone in the world agrees with 'em. No offense."

"But they healed and fed us."

"Jak," Daxter turned back to him and uncrossed his arms. "Is that all it takes to earn your trust?"

Jak said nothing.

Daxter gave a head shake. "Haven's gonna chew you up and spit you right out."

Jak hated that Daxter had been right before about his inability to listen, but he hated the pity in his eyes now even more. His dark eco wound flared, burning when Daxter let slip a look of nervousness and took a step back. Daxter furrowed his brows with worry when Jak winced and rubbed it with tense fingers.

The ottsel took a step forward again and sighed. "Look, ya saved our butts on the Mistarch. And before that, too. Don't think I don't appreciate that. And I don't want to upset ya. I just don't wanna see you get hurt. Because you're already hurtin' enough."

When Jak realized Daxter wasn't looking at his face, but at the dark eco wound on full display on his bare chest, Jak threw the blankets off of himself, turned away, got up, and headed for the door, covering the wound with his hand the whole way.

He got his clothes and got dressed in complete silence, making sure to put his shirt on, first. Daxter did the same, but kept glancing at Jak with concern the whole time. Jak never returned his looks. But as they prepared to leave the room, Jak staring at the new finger indentations now denting the hilt of his sword, he said, "You were right, by the way."

"What?"

Jak pocketed the sword and leaned down to offer his left arm. Daxter climbed halfway, slowing and staring Jak in the eye hesitantly.

"Your dark eco theory came in handy during that wave."

Daxter looked puzzled, then his eyes widened. He said nothing as he found his way to Jak's shoulder, but Jak noticed that, instead of keeping to the edge of his shoulder like always, Daxter now took up more space on it, and his claws held tighter to him than ever before.

Jak and Daxter had meandered through the labyrinthine temple for over an hour by the time they found the main chamber. Like the rest of the complex, it resembled a Precursor ruin made new, everything made of polished brass, eco crystals of every color, and cog-laden machinery. The main difference Jak noticed was that Precursor ruins typically featured water, either in streams or pools. This temple used fire wherever it could: thousands of candles, lanterns, and pools of flame that somehow never went out.

Daxter tugged on Jak's ear as they neared the main chamber's doorway. For a moment, Jak hesitated. He wanted to speak to Seem more, but felt Daxter tense up.

"Hello."

Daxter practically fell off of Jak's shoulder, and Jak twisted around to find no one behind them where the voice had come from. Jak turned back and found Seem staring up at him.

"I was just…" Jak took a step back and awkwardly motioned towards the main hall, from which the entrance could be seen. "You know-"

Those red eyes were on him again, unblinking. "Going?"

"Yeah. But thank you. Again, I mean. I'm not sure there's any way I can ever repay you for-"

"There's no need. Would you not care to at least view the main chamber, though, before you go? Perhaps I may tell you of Mar?"

Daxter's claws flexed and unflexed in Jak's shoulder. But with Seem's intense stare on him, Jak glancing between them and the entrance, guilt worming into his heart as he thought of the bandages still around his ribs and the luxurious food they'd been fed and the cloud-like bed he'd slept on for three days…

He shrugged. "I… I mean, I guess it couldn't hurt-"

Daxter's claws dug deeper again, and his tail thrashed in irritation. Jak gave a one-shouldered, gentle shrug back. Seem smiled for the first time Jak had ever noticed, then put their hand on his back and herded him into the main chamber.

There were two huge pools of roaring fire in the center with channels between them and other spherical indentations scattered across the floor. As Jak looked over them and put them together, he realized they were celestial objects from star charts Samos had shown him when he was a boy.

That must mean the fire pools are the suns, he thought.

There were benches in two sets of rows before the front, the pools between them. Red and gold silk strips flowed from the ceiling in the center in spiral forms, and at the very front was a light eco crystal thrice his height, pushing on Jak's wound even at this distance. Above it on the wall shone a set of armor and a sword with a long, perfectly symmetrical blade, both made from Precursor metal, flawless and ageless, inlaid with gold.

And then there was the statue. It was of a man of featureless stone; vague marks where his eyes, nose, and mouth should have been. He had short hair and armor that matched the set on display in form, but not detail. He pointed a stone version of the sword at the ground. Most notably, he had one ear cut short and one long, the former painted red.

A few people were ambling about, kneeling to pray at different locations in the room. Most were of midnight skin, scarlet eyes, bare feet, and red hair in varying tones, but their ears were cut short like northerners, and they wore red and gold paint like the monks, not on their face, but their arms and chests. The other group of folk were all northerners with clothes similar to Jak's, albeit made of white and gray fine silks and synthetically woven cloths in cuts and detail befitting royalty, and fine white leather boots that looked as if they'd never touched dirt.

There were more of them than Jak had ever seen together, their coloring of no discernable origin, like himself. He remembered Keira's words from the night before he went into the ruins in Sandover:

" Maybe your parents were mixed, too? And like I said: caravan. They travel all over. Or maybe they were from the northern cities? People there are mingled together, just like you."

All bowed their heads at Seem's passing as the monk led Jak towards the front. As they walked, Seem asked, "How much do you know of Mar?"

"A little," Jak replied, sweating, scratching the back of his head and glancing around nervously. Back home, the Precursors never had temples dedicated to them that were this fancy. Their temples were the outdoors, already more perfect than what human hands could craft. The thought of a mere human with this much opulence surrounding the myth of his life gobsmacked him. "He could channel all four ecos, right?"

"Yes. It is not unheard of for people to be able to channel more than one, but he could do all," Seem responded with admiration sparkling in their voice. "And so he channeled light eco, as it is all four energies combined. Tell me, have you any experience with eco?"

More claw prickling.

"Me?" Jak rubbed the back of his head. "Nah, not at all. I may be a tribal boy, but I'm just a farmer's son. You know, harvesting rice and giving offerings to the Precursors and all that simple southerner stuff."

At those words, a few of the others looked at Jak, his ears, then scowled. Then they made a gesture that looked like they were covering their ears, as if to block out sound.

They'd get along well with the folks back home, Jak thought. Different gestures, the same condescension.

"Mar was of humble origins, too."

Jak glanced around at all the gilded things, the people with tears in their eyes as they bowed to the statue, and nodded. "I'm sure he was very humble."

"But for me to tell you the whole story would be boring, and ineffective. I think it'd be best if you saw Mar's story. Maybe then you could truly feel it in your heart. Come."

Seem led him to one of the back walls. On it was a mosaic of brass tiles, laid out in angular forms to represent different things. With a jolt, Jak realized the red figure on the banners in the room he recovered in, and the same one on Seem's face, were a match for one featured centrally in each depiction.

As they moved between the mosaic sections, Seem explained nothing, only asked him after each what he felt, to which he never gave an answer. To be honest, Jak did feel something :

Unimpressed.

From the depiction of Mar living and being well-loved on an island by his people, to him using his eco powers like a star in his hand against what Jak realized were Metal Heads, being bowed to by humans and Precursors alike, to building a city with grand walls, sitting in a large throne with a family about him, to defeating a mythically sized beast in a desert with loyal armies at his back, to…

Mar had a wound. It sat over his heart as a hole in his brass form, and he stood alone, one hand cupping it, his head drooped.

"Sad, is it not?"

"Did he get hurt in the battle?"

"In a way. Mar used too much light eco to defeat Kor, and it was growing out of control. The final blow he made to Kor left a scar across the entire Wasteland, but there was an even greater one sundered within."

"Light eco can do that?"

"As can dark eco," Seem glanced at Jak's chest, then at his face. Jak shuffled nervously, thinking they must have seen his wound when the monks had healed him. Seem motioned for them to move on.

The next murals were of grim things. Mar before the Precursors on his knees, and them turning their sharp backs. Then of Mar cutting his ears midway through the job, only one finished and painted red, just like the statue behind them. After, he wore his armor again with both ears cut, sword pointed to the ground, dead Precursors strewn at his feet in piles, making Jak's stomach churn.

There was a sarcophagus in the last scene. Over it, a round object.

"Not all is lost," Seem cut through the silence. "Just as the suns inevitably rise after their descent to the underworld, so too will he. One of his heirs of his line in Haven will share his power and, with it, destroy the Precursors and free our world from their tyranny forever."

A flicker of irritation ran through Jak. Normally, he'd have fake smiled and kept his mouth shut, but the audacity and ignorance of this monk - knowing who Jak was, as his ears made it obvious - to assume that such a statement wouldn't be offensive to him, was too much. "The Precursors created us and he wanted them dead?"

"They used him like a tool, and discarded him when they no longer had a need for him. We are but slaves to their design. Mar directed us to break free from their chains, as he did. We need no gods."

"Maybe you should ask the actual slaves in Mar's apparently holy city how they feel about chains?" Jak spat, then turned around to leave.

"Mar's heir will free us all. Even you."

"I'm sure they will. Thanks again for your help."

Jak looked over to Daxter once his back was turned and rolled his eyes, and Daxter responded with a crossing of his own eyes and sticking out of his little pink tongue. They got to the main entrance.

Seem stepped in front of them. Jak recoiled. How do they keep doing that?

"Where are you headed?"

Jak tried to step around them. "North."

"As am I. I know the way you should go. Perhaps we can travel together? We could help protect one another."

"I might give offerings to the Precursors to thank them for all they've done a few times on the way. Wouldn't want to offend you."

Jak tried to sidestep again. Seem matched his step, then leaned in with a whisper, "Do say hello to Gol and Maia for me."

Ice shot through Jak's veins.

Then, with a louder voice, they continued, "If I came along, perhaps I could tell you more? We've only just scratched the surface on Mar."

Forgesong shone like a brass and amber fire in a black cauldron behind them as they descended to the lands beyond. Over time, the air remained vaguely warm, but turned from dry to humid. Bugs started to swarm in high pitched, buzzing clouds. Stagnant pools littered the flat landscape ahead in dozens, hundreds, then thousands, broken fragments of a watery mirror that reflected the sunset light.

The ground beneath Jak's plodding steps squished with each stride, and algae and moss coated the sides of his boots in green, slimy streaks. Daxter was on his shoulder, never having once looked Jak in the eye since they left the temple, restocked, and left town. Jak kept trying to jostle his shoulder to get his attention, but all he ever got in return was a swift flick of a tail across his back.

"So, you know Gol and Maia?"

The monk ahead of them, again walking on shields of red eco with each step, never once swatting at the bugs around them as Jak did, nodded. "I know of them."

"Where are they in Haven City?"

"High up."

"So…" Jak tried to remember everything Daxter had said about the city's layout. "By the palace."

"They are to the Baron as Mar is to me."

"They're holy?"

"A path to freedom."

Jak's head buzzed with confusion and more bugs. Ahead stretched a line of trees of murky olive color, draped with vines and interlaced with veins of water between their roots. A sprinkling of buildings crowded at its edges, resting on stilts that held them over the muck.

Seem led them to a half-broken wooden walkway over the deeper water. Dragonsnakes slithered through the muck and reeds, their flightless wings splashing at the water as their serpentine bodies slid across. Flamefringe bugs - yellow here, unlike the blue ones at home - swirled through the dusk air.

"That where we're making camp?"

"No. We will make camp in the heart of the swamp, so that the light I share with you may shine all the brighter."

Jak was suddenly very tempted to use one of the creative curse words Daxter had taught him. He was locked in a cage of unknowing, and Seem had the key. If he could pry from them more about Gol and Maia, he could find his cure faster. But he didn't want to spend the night alone with them. As calm as they came off, Seem unnerved him to the core.

Daxter pinched Jak's ear. Jak gave him a shoulder shrug more forceful than he ever had before, then subtly pointed to his own chest. Daxter replied with a gentle, quick trail of a claw over his own throat. Jak pointed to his dark eco wound again.

The people in the cluster of huts were much different than those in the red tribe lands. They had golden hair, pale skin with freckled complexions, and yellow or brown eyes. Their clothes were much less elaborate, patch-fixed and dirty, reminding Jak of those back home. It was the first time since green tribe lands that Jak felt comfortable instantly around new folk. However, even with the plethora of blondes around, Daxter did not look at any of them. He only stared at Seem.

A lake and a dock rested at the other end. Seem brought forth only one orb from their pocket and handed it to the fisherman resting lazily beside one of the rocking boats. He nodded, stepped aside, and tipped his head to them.

Seem guided them on the boat through the mist and reeds, standing calm at the bow with a long guiding pole in hand, night falling around them. What little day remained faded behind them as soon as they slipped beneath the canopy of the forested swamp. No light pierced the leaves above. The swamp itself grabbed onto them with foggy fingers, furling over the boat's edge. Jak was about to summon his eco to light the way, but Seem soon flicked their free hand. Red eco panes emitting a warm glow arched over them just seconds before it started to rain.

Seem glid their boat across the dark waters. It felt as if the three of them were sailing through a world of shadows, save for the eco's light. Animals called and howled and croaked. Bushes rustled at the water's edge. Shapes meandered beside their boat, sometimes fog, sometimes not.

Daxter huddled up close to Jak's head and shivered ever so slightly. Jak gave him a small side pat in return and kept his hand there.

"Ottsels are curious things," Seem said, not having turned around at all. "Have you heard the legend surrounding them?"

"They're lucky, right?"

"And unlucky. There are tales from every land I've been to. Stories of orange creatures leading children to safety from the shadows, and to danger, far away from home. Even Mar spoke of them in his writings. They were abundant in his days."

Jak tightened his grip on Daxter's fur. "Well, this one's a lucky one."

"I am sure he is. With him around, I am certain you'll find what you're looking for in Haven. Ah, there it is."

Seem pointed to a break in the trees ahead. The waters widened to a massive, crystal clear pool, little mossy islands with trees and flowers scattered about. One main island sat in the center. Atop it grew a cedar tree larger than any Jak had ever seen. When they got near enough, and Jak saw the little seed cones on its bushy boughs and caught its distinctive smoky scent, he knew it was an elder cedar. And one that looked much older than a thousand years.

Jak got out of the boat as soon as it bumped against the island's shore, fear fading to wonder. He walked to the trunk, put his hand on the flaky bark, then dipped his head to it.

"I forgot: old trees are sacred to your people, are they not? These ones are for us, as well; elder cedars were Mar's favorite tree. It is said the one in Haven City that shades his castle was placed there himself. Though, they take so long to grow that it's probably not possible that it could be as tall as it is, if it'd been planted in his time. But he performed many miracles."

Jak didn't reply. Firstly, Seem knowing things they shouldn't have - such as where he'd come from - was getting both terrifying and annoying. And bringing up Mar was ruining the sacredness of that moment; Seem may as well have started the tree on fire in front of him.

After setting up a place to rest in a tangle of roots and moss beneath the cedar, Jak let out a long, misty breath of relief. The rain had dissipated and the clouds gave way to a starry night. Moonlight broke through the break in the canopy in silver beams, dancing on the waters. For a fleeting moment, he thought that if he ever got cured and didn't want to stay in Haven, he wouldn't mind making a new home here.

Seem had composed a pile of brush and logs, took out a stone from their pocket, and brushed red eco against it, sparking a fire to life. Jak got closer to it, but still kept himself beyond its light's edge. Daxter clung tight to his shoulder.

"Unfortunately, this is where we must part ways. I will return to the temple at dawn, and you will keep going north."

Jak raised a brow. "We only have one boat."

"And I need none. I have walked here many times before. I have no fear of death or dark."

Jak opened his mouth to speak, but Seem raised a finger to their lips.

"I will answer your question before we part, though. You want to know how to heal your wound, yes?"

"Wound? I don't know what-"

"Gol and Maia are your key, as you already know. If anyone has a chance at healing you, it would be them. But be warned."

Seem pulled something from their robe pocket and handed it to Jak. Another bolt of shock rippled through him as he took it, just as it had when Seem had first mentioned Gol and Maia's names at the temple's entrance in Forgesong. It was warm and of polished brass; a strange symbol like two comets swirling around in an endless dance, their tails wrapped around the other's head. Jak's hand started to tremble, and his heart pounded. He looked up to Seem's knowing red eyes.

"Gol and Maia are imbalance, and imbalance is what shackles us all. It is a peasant's scrounging in the dirt for food while rich men rove the sky above them in impossible machines. It is land hewn free of eco to pretty gilded towers, while the ground that supports them crumbles to dust. It is your wound, as well. It is the wound of us all."

Jak put his hand to Daxter again. The ottsel leaned into it.

"Find Gol and Maia, as you intend to. Then allow Mar a place in your heart. It is only then that the scales will adjust and balance can return."

"This symbol..." Jak managed to mutter, then looked up at Seem again. "Where did you get this? What does it mean?"

Seem put the fire out, using red eco panes to smother it, and then got up and laid down further away with another pane created for their bed, leaving Jak's questions unanswered in the smoky, red-tinged night.

The next morning, Daxter awoke where he'd fallen asleep atop Jak's head. He perked his ears up, flicking them, trying to find where the sound that had awakened him was coming from.

In the dawn light, Seem was washing their face in the water, their leather and silk cap down. The instant Daxter caught sight of them, they turned around to stare back, their hair curly and the color of wine, their skin dark and free of a painted mask.

Then they continued their routine. Jak snored quietly beneath Daxter as he kept watching. The brass symbol Seem had given Jak the night before was still clasped in his hand, over his heart. Daxter glanced down at Jak, amazed again at how at peace he looked, just as he had in the water after the Mistarch.

Seem collected red and gold flowers and pale stones from around them, crushed them and mixed them with a small mortar, pestle, and flask of oil they brought from their robes along with some brushes, and started to apply it.

They're lucky Jak isn't watchin' em kill all those daisies, Daxter thought. Then, maybe he'd listen to me.

Seem needed no mirror, their brushes held and guided with practiced perfection. Then they bowed to the rising suns, turned back to Jak and Daxter with their paint donned again, and started to near, smiling at Jak. Daxter was at first fearful, but remembered the young man sleeping below him, helpless. He leapt to the dewy grass and hopped between Seem and Jak, teeth bared. Seem froze, then relaxed again.

"You will remain a lucky ottsel for him, will you not? I'm not sure he would find his way to safety from the shadows without you."

Daxter glared at them. Seem returned only a smug smirk. They held each other's gaze for a long, silent time, mists rising from the waters around them as the suns' light touched them.

Then Seem turned away. Daxter watched as they walked across the water again, red eco holding them up, carving a path through the fog, as calm as the still pond beneath their steps. They retreated into the swamp southwards, a crimson light defying the dark.