For a minute, Jak really, honestly thought that Ionna had gone insane. He blinked at her and swallowed. "Could you...repeat that?"

"You need to practice on someone," Ionna explained, her hand still outstretched. "It's either me now, or you'll have to wait until someone comes in with a suitable injury to heal."

Jak stared at Ionna's slim fingers for a few minutes. "Um…"

"Go on," Ionna urged. "You're strong enough to break a few measly bones. Break my fingers. Simultaneously, if you would," she added. "No need to make it take longer than it needs to be."

Jak blinked, still astonished, while Daxter leapt up and started to shout.

"AAAAAHHH! These freakin' Wastelanders! They're cracked in the head, damn it! Jak, we need to get outta here before they start breakin' our bones!"

"I don't want to hurt you," Jak told her darkly. "I'm stronger than I look."

Ionna laughed. "Trust me, so am I. I am, above all, a Wastelander."

Jak hesitated, then grasped her hand. "Fine. Just...don't complain."

He clenched his fist around her fingers as hard as possible, then sharply bent them back towards her wrist. She gave a hiss of pain just as there was a series of loud snaps! ; next thing Jak knew, Ionna had pulled her hand back. Her fingers were crooked and swollen now, but she didn't seem to even notice. Instead, she said, "Very good. Now, just as you did before, I want you to find the eco inside of you and pull it to the forefront of your mind."

Jak did as she told, concentrating on bringing the light eco up. He grabbed her hand and let it flow into her fingers, watching as the bones righted themselves. Ionna watched, interested, then flexed her fingers.

"Good job. Mostly." She wiggled her fingers to show him that two of them were still crooked. "It's difficult to know when another's body is fully healed."

She closed her eyes and let a sparkle of light eco flow over her fingers. They cracked back into place as the light dissipated. She flexed them again, completely straight now. Jak marveled in their perfection, while Daxter whistled.

"Man, how come you get all the fun powers?" he complained. "You two get to heal, I get to be pantsless and fuzzy!"

Jak and Ionna both ignored him. "The hardest injuries to heal," she continued calmly, "are internal lacerations and trauma. In fact, I highly advise against healing internal injuries. Organ systems and tissue are too complex for a person to blindly heal."

"What about bullet wounds?" Jak asked. Ionna gave him an almost proud smile.

"Very good thinking," she complimented. "As a Wastelander, you're most likely to deal with weapons, such as bullet wounds. The key here is to remember basic first aid." She gestured to the morph gun. "Never attempt to remove a bullet from someone's body. To do so risks both infection and hemorrhaging."

Jak vaguely remembered the same thing being told to him before. He frowned as he tried to remember it…

"Hold still, Torn, I'll heal you." The Shadow quickly brought green eco to Torn's shoulder, the wound healing over. Jak and Daxter watched with sympathy as Torn winced.

"The bullet's still in my arm!" Torn argued. The Shadow clicked his tongue.

"Never take a bullet out," he said firmly. "It could get infected or you could bleed to death. It's better to just leave it in."

Ionna tore him back to the present. "I've seen many a man die because they tried to dig metal out of their arms. Don't do it."

Jak nodded. "Got it."

Ionna nodded, satisfied. "Well, since I am not about to let you shoot me, I suppose we should end our lesson here. It's almost time for the day to begin."

Jak stood up while Daxter jumped onto his shoulder. Ionna picked up a rag and pumped some water over it. Jak glanced at the door, then said, "One more thing."

"Certainly." Ionna began to wipe down the counter, but she kept her eyes on Jak and Daxter.

"...I had something...happen to me while in Haven." Jak hesitated, then continued anyway. "I got angry and lost control. Of the dark eco."

Ionna blinked at him. "...You wish to learn to control it."

"Yeah. I guess." He folded his arms. "Do you think that Seem could help me?"

"Come to the entrance of Spargus at sundown," Ionna said, tossing the rag into the laundry basket. "She'll help you."

Mornings in Spargus were always when Damas was most busy, oddly enough. He dished out orders and missions for his Wastelanders, set out announcements and plans, and just generally familiarized himself with the day's troubles.

Sometimes, though, he just wanted to roll himself back into bed and forget that he had a city to run.

This morning, after having already patched up one of his warriors, Sig came to the throne room with a, quite frankly, unusually serious demeanor.

"Sig," Damas greeted wearily. He could see his friend's eyes narrow a bit and cut him off before he could say anything. "I am perfectly fine. I do not wish to speak about my health or any other nonsense. What are you here for?"

"..." Sig bit his tongue, which Damas knew had to be killing him. "I got some bad news. Some of our scouts found another one of those nasty satellites in the Wasteland. This one was still kicking."

Damas stilled. "Any casualties?" he demanded.

Sig shook his head. "Karisma got a nasty burn, and I'm pretty sure Helio isn't going to be walking around for a while, but...everyone's alive."

"And is it still operational?"

"Nope. Currently in pieces." Sig grinned at him. "Not that we'd expect any less from any Wastelanders!"

Damas didn't smile back, instead just sighing heavily. "I'll tell Seem. I'm sure that she and Ionna will want to gather some information on the satellite." He reached to the side of his throne, where he kept several rolled up maps. "Show me. Where was it in the Wasteland exactly?"

Sig indicated the point where the satellite had been. "Just past the river here."

Damas exhaled softly. "They're getting more frequent. I don't like this."

"What should we do?" Sig asked.

Damas' mind quickly spun through his options. "...We'll start by informing the citizens of the danger," he said finally. "I'd advise them to limit their movements in the wastes as much as possible. And they should certainly not go alone or unarmed."

Sig nodded. "What about the city itself?"

Damas frowned, thoughtful. "First things first," he said finally. "We'll start a rotation on the turret. It should always be manned by someone. And we should have a few scouts around the perimeter of the city, keeping an eye out for suspicious activity."

Sig nodded. "I'll start gettin' some folks together."

"Good." Damas nodded. "I'll send out a message to citizens. I don't want to cause panic, but we need to be prepared."

He stood up abruptly to take the communicator. As he did so, his vision spun and he stumbled a bit, dizzy and lightheaded. He swayed on his feet, trying to regain his balance.

"Damas!" Sig grabbed hold of his elbow, steadying the king. As the world righted itself again, Damas swallowed. "What the hell was that?!"

"N-nothing," Damas said quickly. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine," Sig spat as he pressed Damas into his seat. "You almost passed out!"

Damas shot the man a glare. "Don't exaggerate. I just need some water."

"Geez." Sig reached to his belt and pulled his canteen off. "What's going on with you?"

Sig pressed his canteen to Damas' lips, but the king sneered and grabbed it himself. He quickly took a sip. "I am fine. I am not a feeble old man. I am simply dehydrated."

"Damas." Sig met his eyes. "Don't you dare lie to me."

For a moment, Damas wanted to tell him off; after all, Sig had no right to butt into the king's business, and calling him a liar to boot! Not how a man should behave to his king.

However, the moment passed and Damas sighed heavily. He took another drink, letting the cold water clear his thoughts. Finally, he admitted, "I haven't slept very well these past several nights. It's starting to catch up to me."

"..." Sig frowned as Damas stood up, slower this time. "Why haven't you been gettin' sleep?" When the man didn't answer, Sig continued. "It's Mar, isn't it?"

"Ugh..." Damas put a hand on his chest, over his heart, absent-mindedly soothing a long-dulled ache. "I...every time I close my eyes, I hear him crying."

A heavy silence fell between them, before Damas walked towards the window that showed the desert. In the morning light, he could see for miles. Against the sand, he spotted two lone figures: a short, stocky young man and a small animal beside him.

Of course Jak would have been impatient. He hadn't waited long before finding someone to heal his wounds. As Damas watched, the boy seemed to glide along the sand, spinning along the dunes, as if he were surfing them.

How Mar would have loved Jak. His mind painted a picture of his carefree son racing through the city with Jak, pulling on Daxter's fur, laughing as the trio played in the water together. With how similar they looked, they could almost be brothers.

"Damas?" Sig's voice snapped Damas out of his thoughts. He turned to his subordinate. "Are you okay?"

He wanted to ask if Sig saw what Damas saw: if he saw the similarities between Jak and Mar. But he knew that if Sig had noticed, it would have come up already. Surely Damas was imagining it.

"I'm fine," he lied, turning back to the throne. "What were you saying?"

"I was sayin'," Sig said, in a tone that said he clearly didn't believe Damas, "that you need to go rest." He hesitated, then continued recklessly. "Maybe you oughta try sleeping in Mar's room. That always seemed to—. "

Damas' head snapped up. "I am not sleeping in Mar's room," he hissed. Sig flinched. "That's where it all happened. Where I...no. All that will do is make it worse."

"...Then I'm gonna get something from Ionna to help you."

Damas' glare intensified. "I do not need you parading my problems around for all to see."

Sig glared right back. "I'll tell her it's for me. Even though I think you're being stubborn for the sake of it, I won't tell anyone. But you can't keep going like this, Damas. Something's gotta give."

Damas felt his anger drain away. "...I can't let my past affect my present," he said softly. "I am Spargus' leader, and I am needed in a time of crisis. I have—"

"A city to run," Sig interrupted curtly. "So I've heard."

As evening fell, Seem made her way down from the Monk Temple to Spargus. She'd received two messages that day: one from Damas about a new Dark Maker in the desert, and one from Ionna about training Jak.

She was worried. New Dark Makers meant they were getting closer. Troubling times, danger ahead.

However, it turned out to be nothing new. The satellite was similar to the ones they'd already seen. They were just scouts, sent to investigate and map out the land.

"Scouts?!" Damas slammed his palm on the arm of his throne. "What sort of scouts attack like that? It could've killed one of my men!"

"I warned you before," Seem said, a bit taken aback by his anger. "The Dark Makers are powerful enemies. They seek destruction, in all pursuits. I advise against fighting them."

"That ain't gonna happen," Sig said. "Us Wastelanders never turn down a chance to take out an enemy."

"Then people will die." Seem's tact had never been good. Ionna always told her she was too blunt, too brusque. "I hope you are prepared for that."

"...Gah!" Damas stood up and strode off into the corridor, muttered to himself. Seem eyed him with annoyance.

"You'll have to excuse Damas," Sig said conversationally. "He didn't get his afternoon nap." The large man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What do you think we should do?"

Seem blinked at him, thoughtful. Finally, she admitted, "I don't know. I have never faced any threat like this. I think the most we can do is...try to find what the Precursors left for us. And accept our fate, no matter what it is."

"...Great. Just great." Sig shrugged. "Well...I guess we'll just do what we can to survive, then."

She watched him leave after the king and straightened her armor. It was none of her concern, she thought, if Damas did not like the news. She was only the messenger.

"...I know it's a big favor," Ionna pleaded. "But I think it's our only chance."

From across the hood of the buggy, Seem folded her arms and frowned. It was one thing for Ionna to ask her to train Jak; it was another entirely to ask something like this.

"I cannot allow you into the monk temple," Seem said firmly. "The decrees of the monks state—"

"I know what the decrees state," Ionna interrupted. "But only the two of us can open the doors in the deepest part of the temple. You can escort me the entire way, surely that would be fine."

Seem sighed. "...You will have to disguise yourself," she finally said. "If any of the other monks see you, I would face my own punishment."

"Of course." Ionna agreed quickly. "If we can find this last artifact, we can power up the planetary defense system. This could turn the tide, Seem."

Seem looked down at her hands, tattooed with the markings of the Precursors. "I hope you're right," she said quietly. "I truly...hope we can protect our home."

For a moment, Ionna paused. Her eyes, always sharp and focused, lingered on Seem.

"...Why are you so pessimistic?" Ionna asked. "You almost seem resigned to the planet's destruction."

Seem avoided her gaze. "That is my curse," she said wistfully. "I am the one who looks into the darkness and sees what it brings. I see death and despair where others see hope."

"Only because that is what you choose to see," Ionna said gently. "I'd think that, given the circumstances, you'd be a little more positive about the outcome."

Seem was quiet, watching dust blow by at her feet, swirling over her shoes. Ionna ducked her head to make eye contact.

"Seem, my friend. What aren't you telling me?"

Seem despised Veger.

His smugness, his callous disregard for human life, his undeserving superiority complex...everything about him made bile rise to her throat.

But she had no choice.

The visions came to all the sages, the gift of knowledge brought to them by their own eco. Up until recently, the visions Seem had were fleeting: flashes of the future here, veering into another's consciousness there. But nothing so clear as the ones where she gave Veger help.

It was jarring, especially considering she hadn't even known who Veger was at the time.

Then he'd appeared in the Temple, having come through the subrails. He demanded to speak to the leader of the monks. At first, they all ignored him, rebuffing him and ignoring when he threatened them with his gun.

They were monks, yes, but they had been through war and death. No one feared Veger and his threats.

However, when Seem saw him, recognized him from the visions she'd seen, she agreed to help him. She told him how to navigate the catacombs, where the weapon was, what was needed to power it. She offered him her guidance and resources.

She might hate Veger with every fiber of her being, but it didn't change what she had to do.

It was a test of faith, she knew, from the Precursors. And she had a duty to pass it.

But she feared she had failed. The visions, ones that had been so clear with Veger, had changed. She kept seeing the Dark Makers in Spargus, the people fighting those monsters she knew were coming. She heard screams and saw destruction wrought. And then…

Nothing. A flash of white, and nothing.

Her visions had ended with there being nothing but a peaceful light.

She was foreseeing the end of the world.

Spargus was a different world at night; with the torches lit and the temperature cooling, it seemed more and more like the nights that Jak and Daxter enjoyed back on the shores of Sentinel Beach.

The two boys headed for the entrance, where both Seem and Ionna were waiting. As Jak got closer, he heard the two of them talking. He shot Daxter a look, then slowed his steps and listened closely.

"...didn't you tell me?" Ionna sounded almost...shaken. Alarmed. "I could have offered you my guidance."

"I didn't need your guidance," Seem replied, sounding uncomfortable. "I understood what was being shown. I knew what I needed to do."

Ionna made a humming noise. "I'll be honest, I fear for your safety, Seem. I don't think it wise to play games with men obsessed with power."

"And is it wise to trust someone whose soul has been twisted by darkness?" Seem retorted sharply. "Jak has been forever changed by dark eco."

Jak felt a fierce sting to his pride; and here he'd thought Seem had started to like him.

"You always had a flare for the dramatic," Ionna mused. "Twisted? Changed forever? Quite the exaggeration."

"You know what I mean," Seem hissed. "Dark eco warps the psyche. If he cannot control it, he is dangerous."

"And so we come full circle. Seem, your duty, as an acolyte of dark eco and a monk yourself, is to follow the will of the Precursors." Ionna folded her arms. "That means to teach children how to wield their powers. It is what other monks did for you, and what you must do for others."

Seem was quiet for a moment, so Jak took advantage of the break in their conversation. He and Daxter wandered into the garage, trying to look like they hadn't just been eavesdropping.

"Hey, there, Face Paint," the ottsel said cheerfully. "Did'ya miss us?"

"..." Seem glared at him. "You are here to train, not talk."

"Thank you," Jak said quickly. "For helping me. I…"

Seem cut him off and began to head for the Dune Hopper. "We will go to the monk temple for our training."

"Ugh, that place again?" Daxter hung his head over Jak's hair. "Can't we go somewhere nice? I hear there's a pretty little oasis not too far from here!"

Seem stopped halfway to the buggy. "Orange Lightning. You cannot come with us."

"What?!" Jak clenched his fists. "I'm not going anywhere without—"

"What we are going to be practicing," Seem interrupted, "requires peace and quiet. Do you see why he must stay back?"

Jak almost argued, but hesitated. If he was honest? Daxter probably couldn't be quiet. Peace was a foreign word to his friend.

Before Jak could come up with a convincing argument, Daxter said loudly, "Don't worry, buddy, I'll be just fi-ine right here. Gee, how will I ever get over the disappointment of not having to trek through the desert to Mystic Monk Mountain?" He put his hand on his forehead and pretended to faint on Jak's shoulder.

Jak couldn't keep the smile off his face. "…You're sure, Dax?"

"Of course. I'll just hang out here and relax for a bit." Daxter hopped off his shoulder into the sand. "I can, uh…"

He spotted Ionna, leaning forward on the buggy. He skidded over to her. "Me and the old lady here will play some games or something. Got any good ones?"

"Hmm...gin rummy?" she suggested lightly.

Daxter grinned and leaned against her leg. "Sounds good to me."

Jak nodded. "Alright, then. I'll be back soon."

"Take your time," Daxter told him. "I'm going to go kick this old broad's butt. Now, how exactly do you play gin rummy?"

Jak left with Seem, jumping into the Dune Hopper as Ionna explained the game to Daxter. The last glimpse he got of his friend, the ottsel was leaping onto Ionna's shoulder, holding her braid for balance.

"Are you ready?" Seem asked. He took one last look behind him before pulling his goggles down.

"Let's go."