Okay, this chapter is short, but only because it kind of merged with the next chapter and became suuuuuper long. So the next chapter should be finished soon!

I hope everyone has a great start to the new year, and happy reading!

The Mountain Temple was so different than Haven City that it almost felt like another world.

Damas' boots made echoing thuds as he walked through the Temple. It was after dark; he had only starlight and the eerie green gems to lead his way.

Not that it mattered. He'd visited plenty of times. He knew exactly where to go.

He saw a few monks as he walked, each of them giving him a respectful bow as they passed him. Evidently, Ionna had not told anyone about the meeting they'd had earlier that day. Or, if she had, none of the monks cared.

Precursors, he felt bad just remembering it. The minute she'd left, the Krimzon Guard had laid into him. Yasir, in particular, was angry at him, yelling for the first time that Damas could remember.

Praxis, surprisingly, was angry, too. For someone who generally didn't have a lot of patience for Ionna being in the Krimzon Guard, he was quick to jump to her defense.

"Your foolish pride will be the death of us all," he'd growled. "Look at how you treat your allies! Disgraceful."

And then they'd all left, too, so that Damas was alone in the meeting room, staring at an amulet that had been his family for generations. A symbol of their lineage, their city. A great honor, and a great burden.

He reached the ledge where Ionna liked to meditate. Ionna was sitting there, cross-legged, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling evenly. Steaks of moonlight streamed through the trees, making her look paler than usual.

Damas crept up and sat down beside her, silent the entire time. Still, he saw her face tense and knew she was aware of his presence.

He waited a few minutes, until she opened her eyes with an annoyed sigh before speaking.

"I owe you an apology." Damas stared at the grass, wishing it could swallow him whole. He fiddled with the amulet, tugging at the cord and flipping the pendant in his hand. "I shouldn't have just dismissed your opinion like I did. Please accept my apology."

She opened her eyes and glanced at him. For a moment, he was worried she might not even speak to him, just brush him off. Finally, she sighed and turned to face him completely, cross-legged.

"Damas. Take your crown off."

Relieved that she was speaking to him, he did as she asked, sliding the crown from his head and setting it carefully beside them. He watched as she gently undid the hood on her own head and set it beside her. He blinked as she ran her fingers through her hair. It was cropped short, in feathery spikes as white as snow.

"Weird to see you without your hood on," he commented. "I didn't realize your hair was so short."

Ionna ignored his attempt at small talk. "For the next ten minutes, you're not a king and I'm not a monk, understand? We are two friends, speaking frankly."

"Okay." Damas raised an eyebrow in confusion, but played along. Ionna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "What is it?"

"You need to stop this." She exhaled and opened her eyes again. "You're going to end up turning people against you."

Damas frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you're pushing away all your advisors." The wind rustled her hair and the grass. "You can't just make unilateral decisions for the city, not if you want to be an effective ruler."

"But my job is to speak up!" he objected. "I'm the king, I have to advocate for the city."

"Advocate, yes. But you're ignoring all the advice of your comrades." She leaned forward on her elbows. "You need to be careful. Loyalty...it only lasts as long as people trust you. Be mindful that you don't break that trust and end up alone."

Damas pursed his lips. "You're right," he said thoughtfully. "I should probably be more open to hearing advice...but I still have to be the one to make the decision." He glanced down at the crown that sparkled in the moonlight. "I'm the king. I take everything, good and bad. All the blame and all the praise." He tilted his chin up towards her. "I'm the one who holds all the responsibility."

"But you're not the only one who faces consequences." She gestured out towards the city, where the lights shone brightly. "Think about something, Damas. Really think about it. Suppose you're right, and the metal head nest can be broken open. How many soldiers will have to die to do it?"

"How many will die if we don't?" he countered.

Ionna scoffed, humorless laughter on her lips. "So that's the game we're playing? Whose idea is worse?"

Damas hung his head, a smirk on his face. "Alright, then," he said. "I suppose there is compromise in every disagreement. What do you think we should do?"

"Oh, so now you care what I think?" She raised an eyebrow, and though her words were bitter, her tone was teasing. "I thought you were the king! The man who made all the decisions!"

Damas winced. "I already apologized. Can't I just live it down already?"

"Not for another few years," she mused, before her expressions sobered. "But Damas, if you really want to know what I think, you have to actually consider it."

"I will," he promised. She looked skeptical, so he quickly added, "I will, I swear!"

Ionna nodded at his assurance. "Yasir is right. If we can find the Precursor Stone, or some other method of powering Mar's gun, then we can break open the nest without as much risk."

"But that will take too much time," Damas argued. "We could spend years, even decades, searching for it!"

"Then put a time limit on it." Ionna folded her arms. "Give me a year to search for it. If I come up empty, then we can attack the nest like you want."

Damas leaned back on his hands. "A year? No way." He pondered for a second, then said, "A month. That's reasonable, I think."

"A month?" Ionna's laugh echoed across the chasm. "You want me to find the Precursor Stone, Mar's greatest treasure, Haven's lost secret, in a month? You're insane."

"And you're stalling," he bit back. "As if I don't realize you're just trying to push the deadline back so that you can convince me not to attack the nest."

"Guilty, I suppose." Ionna sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "How about we split the difference? Six months. That way, I can try to find the Precursor Stone, and you can plan an attack. By the time six months has passed, either we'll be in great shape to attack the nest, or…"

"Or we'll be doing it anyway," Damas finished. "Alright, I'll compromise. I agree to your terms." He narrowed his eyes. "But don't spend the next six months trying to convince me otherwise. It'd just be a waste of your time."

"Fair enough." Ionna picked her hood back up, but didn't put it on yet. "But don't you dare try to pull that 'I am king, I make the rules' nonsense again."

"Agreed." Damas hesitated, then reached into his pocket. "So...back to normal?"

He held out her Krimzon Guard pin, the torn cloth still attached. She stared at it, almost sadly, for a moment, then took it gently from his palm.

She didn't pin it onto her tunic though. Instead, she turned it around in her fingers, then sighed heavily and looked at him.

"...Damas, I'm your friend. I'll always be your friend, even when you do something foolish. But the rest of the city doesn't have that loyalty."

"Are you saying the city is going to turn on me?" he asked, his tone light-hearted. "I like to think I'm not that bad of a king."

Ionna didn't look amused. "Just...be careful, Damas."

Damas laughed as he stood up, twirling his crown around his finger. As he placed it on his head, he smirked at her.

"I always am."

Ionna had always been an early riser.

She blamed it on her time as a monk: all during her formative years, she had to get up at dawn to complete prayers and rituals. Nowadays, dawn woke her for nothing but chores.

She got dressed quickly, forgoing the armor she'd been wearing recently. No reason to, since Jak was going to be out on a mission today. Apparently, he was helping to put the new communication satellites up. She tied her hair back in a braid and reached into the dish on her nightstand.

It was an old artifact, one she'd found and shined up years ago in the Wasteland. She'd liked it because it reminded her of all the tribute dishes that Onin had in her chambers. She hadn't had much of a use for it, but it made her smile when she saw it. She'd opted to just throw her odd trinkets there for safekeeping.

She didn't wear any of the old jewelry: the bangles and earrings that Onin had given her, symbols of her sagehood, lay unused in the dish. But she did wear her headband everyday; it kept her bangs out of her face.

As she picked it up from the dish, the seaglass scraped against the ammo shells she kept there. Her old Krimzon Guard pin, rusted and faded, was there, too, a reminder of a past decades away. Straightening the headband, she headed out to the infirmary.

To find Seem, sitting patiently on a stool, waiting for her.

"Sweet stars above," Ionna said, clutching her chest. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I'm not as young as I used to be."

Seem didn't smile. "We have a problem."

Ionna sighed and sat down beside her. "Oh, dear. What is it?"

"Four of my monks were travelling back to Spargus." She closed her eyes. "They were attacked."

Ionna's face fell. "Are they…?"

Seem shook her head. "Dead, all of them."

"Seem, I'm so sorry." Ionna reached out and gripped the monk's hand. "If there's anything I can do…"

Seem shook her head, but didn't pull away. "It's…fine. We will mourn when we have the time to do so. Right now, we need to focus." She sighed and slid her hand out of Ionna's. "My monks were on their lizards. The lizards are either dead or ran off, but the packs they were carrying were torn to shreds. The items inside were scattered all around, as if…"

"As if someone was looking for something." Comprension dawned on Ionna's face. "The Dark Makers. They're being more aggressive trying to find the Eco Sphere."

Seem nodded and Ionna continued thoughtfully, "Strange. They haven't attacked anyone from Spargus. Well, except for Jak and Damas," she added wryly. "But those two went looking for trouble."

"If they're only attacking those going from the Temple to Spargus, then it proves one thing."

"The Eco Sphere is definitely in the Monk Temple," Ionna confirmed. Her frown deepened. "You took quite a risk coming here. They could have attacked you, too."

"I teleported," Seem explained. "But I do want to be clear: we need to find this sooner rather than later."

Ionna leaned back against the counter. She put her hands on the back of her head and tapped the headband nervously. "Yes," she said vaguely. "Yes, we do."

"Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow. When will we see each other again? Who knows, in such uncertain times! Such a bittersweet time us friends spent together, out here in the—!"

"Daxter, shut up!" Despite the growl of the Slam Dozer's engine, the protests of Jak, Keira, and Sig could still be heard over it. Daxter stuck his tongue out and was rewarded with a mouthful of sand.

Jak, Keira, and Daxter were in the back of the buggy, clinging to the crossbars. Damas was driving, of course; Sig was in the passenger's seat, aiming the gun as they went. None of them spoke as they drove.

Which was strange, in and of itself, Jak thought. Damas hadn't said word one to any of them this morning, just waiting for them all to pile in and letting Sig talk for him. His hands gripped the wheel a little tighter than was necessary, his eyes a little more focused than normal.

And it wasn't just Jak who noticed, either. Daxter, always able to read people well, had shot a look at Jak when they'd started driving. He could see it, too.

Now, as they approached the transport to Haven City, Daxter spit sand out of his mouth. "Eh, you guys just don't like my wonderful poetic narration," he sputtered.

Keira jumped out of the back of the buggy, Jak following suit. Daxter hopped onto Jak's shoulder, still grumbling about their lack of culture. Sig turned around to Keira.

"Well, cherry," he said, "it's been a ride. Take care on the other side of the wall, got it?"

Keira smiled. "Thanks, Sig. And thank you, too," she called to Damas. He simply nodded at her. "King of Conversation, as always."

Daxter snickered as the hatch to the transport opened with a rush of air. Keira headed for it, then stopped to turn to Jak.

"Remember to bolt those satellites securely," Keira said, putting her hands on her hips. "All four bolts, and I put in extra in case you lose any."

Jak gave her a sheepish grin. "Come on, I'm not that bad."

"I remember you always losing my tools back home," she said dryly, while Daxter laughed. "Oh! And I upgraded your JetBoard while you were training." She pulled it out of her pack and handed it to him. "I altered the power element so that it can use thermal power to improve its energy efficiency and increase the force exerted on its frame."

"Um...thanks." Jak turned the JetBoard in his hands. "What does that mean?"

Keira rolled her eyes, but she had a fond smile on her face. "It means it'll work better when it's hot. It'll take in the excess heat and use it to go faster."

"Wait, really?" His eyes lit up at the idea. "Keira, that's amazing!"

"Yeah, I know."

There was an awkward silence as the conversation faltered. Jak rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, um...thanks for coming out here. Seriously."

Keira suddenly threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. "Be careful, Jak. I'll come back and visit soon." She let go of Jak quickly and ruffled Daxter's fur. "And you, too, Daxter. I'll tell Tess you said hi."

"Tell her that I can't wait to get back and see my beautiful cutie pie with the golden—mmmph!"

Jak slapped his hand over Daxter's mouth, rolling his eyes. Keira laughed, then glanced over at the buggy. "You better go. I don't think Damas is very patient today."

"Yeah. Tell…tell everyone I said hi, too." Jak watched as Keira climbed into the transport and got comfortable. They waved as the doors closed and the transport took off, above the horizon and off towards Haven.

Neither Damas nor Sig said anything about Keira's departure as they returned to the buggy. Instead, Damas just hit the gas and sent them across the sands.