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The trip back to Spargus was, to everyone's surprise, uneventful.

"This is the strangest attack pattern I've ever seen." Damas was driving Jak and Daxter, while Sig was behind them on his own. "One moment, they have the entire force out in attack mode, the next they're completely silent."

"Sounds like Errol," Daxter said over the roar of the engine. "Hit 'n' run, the coward!"

"Cowardly as it may be," Damas mused, "it is clever. If the attacks were more consistent, we could predict them. As it stands now, we don't know his next move."

Damas tapped the steering wheel as they entered Spargus' garage. Behind them, Jak heard Sig get out, too. They gathered around Damas.

"So," Daxter said casually, "what's the plan now? 'Cause, uh, I don't think those guys are the type to give up."

Damas folded his arms. "Sig, I need you to send a message to the council. An emergency meeting, tonight, to discuss preparations. If the Dark Makers are attacking the Temple, then Spargus is also a possible target. We must be ready."

"On it." Sig saluted him, then headed into the city. Jak went to follow behind him, but Damas quickly grabbed his shoulder.

"Not yet, you two," he said, his voice firm. "We need to talk about your punishment."

Jak winced and Daxter looked scandalized. "Whoa, whoa!" He hopped down onto the ground and put his hands on his hips. "Excuse me, Your Dryness, but Jak and I just saved an entire temple of monks! Don't you think we've dug our way outta the punishments?!"

"You disobeyed an order," Damas reminded them, though he didn't sound particularly angry. "Several times, actually. Doing a good deed doesn't negate the bad ones."

Jak grimaced. As much as he wanted to argue, the king was right: he'd been told to stay in Spargus. This is what he got, he supposed.

Damas smirked at Jak's sour face. "What was it you told me earlier? 'Be pissed at me later?' Well, it's later." His expression sobered. "I do appreciate that you assisted Seem. With that in mind, your punishment is not particularly dangerous or strenuous."

Daxter seemed to relax at that. "Okay, now we're talkin'! Give us a nice, easy punishment."

"Hmph. Easy may not be the word." Damas gestured for them. "Follow me."

He led them through the city, past the stalls in the marketplace and the arena steps. By the time they arrived at the infirmary, Jak knew exactly where they were going.

The bell chimed cheerfully as they entered. Ionna glanced up from where she'd been working on her medicines, smiling when she saw them.

"I shouldn't be surprised to see you. Seem told me what happened at the Temple." She wiped her hands on a rag and faced them. "What injuries do I need to treat?"

Jak was about to answer, when Damas said quickly, "A moment, Ionna."

Ionna raised an eyebrow before gesturing to the corner. They turned away from Jak and Daxter, hiding their lips from sight. Ionna glanced back as Damas whispered something in her ear. Her eyes were wide and, even as Damas looked very serious, Jak caught a small smile on her face.

"Thank you," she said to Damas. He nodded at her in response. He turned to Jak and Daxter, who grimaced in tandem.

"You will be helping Ionna all day today," he ordered. "Spargus is in great danger, and she'll need extra hands to prepare. Anything she asks of you, do it well."

Daxter saluted him stiffly. "Sir, yes, sir!"

Damas rolled his eyes and looked at Jak. "And no going out of the city, do you hear me? I want no confusion in my words: you are to stay here."

Jak nodded, flushing in embarrassment. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I got it."

Damas nodded, satisfied. He thanked Ionna and gave Jak one last knowing look, before leaving again.

Which left Jak and Daxter at the mercy of Ionna.

"You two," she said sternly, tapping the counter with her fingers, "are absolute menaces."

Daxter grimaced. "Uh, it was Jak's fault?"

"Oh? Then you're a menace who has a friend." She gestured around her. "Well, you came at the right time. I'm organizing the infirmary and taking stock of our supplies. And while we're doing that…"

She reached below the counter and pulled out a bucket and some rags. "How do you boys feel about cleaning?"

Sig had a love-hate relationship with his job.

On one hand, it gave him a lot of freedom. Hell, he'd been in Haven City for months at a time, and no one ever questioned it. He took off after metal head caravans and marauder groups whenever he wanted, hopping into a buggy and going after the action.

But it was becoming increasingly common that he identified with Daxter's desire for a break in the action. Maybe Damas was right and his time in the city had made him soft; maybe it was just his age creeping up on him. Either way, he sometimes liked that his job required him to do something simple. Something easy. Something safe.

Like delivering a message.

Sig just called most of the council members over their comms, but there were two he had to tell in person: Kleiver and Jamera.

Kleiver, because the damned fool never kept his comm on. Damas bitched about it constantly, though Sig never minded making the trek down to the garage to deliver messages. That part of the city was pretty empty during the day, so it was a nice chance to clear his mind.

Kleiver had one of the buggies jacked up to work on it. When Sig came in, the wastelander snorted. "Come to break a few more rules?"

Sig chuckled and leaned against the buggy. "Not this time. Just sending you a message from Damas. Emergency council meeting tonight, usual time."

Kleiver nodded. "'Bout bloody time. Everyone's freaking out over these Dark Makers. Personally, they don't scare me a bit."

"They should," Sig said darkly. "Those things aren't friendly."

"Since I've got you here," Kleiver suddenly added, "got a question for you. Maybe you can ask his lordship, get me a straight answer."

"I'll try."

Kleiver nodded and set his tools aside. "Emeli's group, the ones who always find artifacts in the west desert? They've run out of artifacts to sell. So've Casp's group, and Feara's group is almost out. What should they do about this month's tax?"

Sig frowned thoughtfully. Artifact runners did some of the dirtiest work, gathering and selling what they could in the desert. Wastelander law said that they could keep whatever they wanted, but they owed a certain amount to the city itself.

No artifact running meant no artifacts. No money.

"I'll talk to Damas," he said slowly, "but for now, tell them not to worry about paying the tax this month. We've got bigger issues, they can make it up when we get back to business as usual."

Kleiver clapped Sig's shoulder. "Good man. I asked Damas about it when he first closed the city. Bet he completely forgot about it."

I'll bet he did. Damas probably hadn't even considered any of the economic problems, considering the impending doom. Well, that's why Sig was here.

Jamera was his next stop. She had a comm on her, but she couldn't always hear it. In the schoolhouse, it was too noisy and chaotic for her to always pay attention to it.

Sig had, evidently, interrupted cooking class, based on the smell of burnt vegetables. Jamera and her teachers were holding themselves together pretty well, considering Sig almost gagged when he walked in.

"Oh! Hi, Sig. What's up?" Jamera beamed at him, while a group of ten-year-olds fanned smoke out the window. "You don't usually pop in around here."

"I got a message from Damas, wanted to make sure it went through." Sig watched a child drop a dish, its pieces shattering around the floor. "Uh-oh."

"Happens all the time," Jamera said breezily. "Cai, the broom, please."

Sig shook his head. "Don't know how you do it. Anyway, Damas is having an emergency council meeting tonight."

Jamera's face darkened and she lowered her voice. "I heard about the Temple. Does he think we're next?"

"Maybe." Sig had never been a liar. "We're not sure, but we wanna be ready."

"Siggy! Siggy, my mom says you're the best cook she knows!" One of the kids who lived beside his mama ran up to him, bowl of stir fry in her hands. "Can you try it?"

"Sure thing, cherry." Sig took the bowl from her. It didn't look too bad, if he was being honest. Not burnt, besides the edges of the meat, and pretty well-seasoned. He took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. "Hmm…tastes like you got a future feedin' people, Myla!"

Myla bounced happily. "Thank you!" She took the bowl from him and ran off, bragging to her group mates. Sig chuckled.

"When this is all over," Jamera said cheerfully, "we need to have you and King Damas back in for some marksmanship lessons." She hesitated. "If he's up to it, that is."

Right. Damas had avoided the schoolhouse since Mar's abduction. He told Sig once that he saw Mar's face every time he saw the kids.

"Well, if he's not," Sig said, an idea dawning, "I got someone else who'd probably come in. Kid's a bit green, but he's one hell of a shot."

"Hey! You cursed!" One of the kids pointed to the bucket in the corner. "Gotta put an orb in!"

"Yeah, yeah." Sig dug out a Precursor Orb, rolling his good eye. It wasn't the first time he'd had to put one in. "Anyway, I'll see you at the meeting."

With that he dropped the orb into the bucket and left, waving to the kids as he did so. He inhaled the desert air and sighed.

The crazy shit, the wild action of fighting metal heads, the adventures that came with danger…it was fun, and Sig definitely couldn't see himself giving it up completely.

But the calm stuff was its own kind of fun, too.

The council meeting started, as always, with small talk about the city. Damas let his thoughts wander as the chattering voices floated around his throne.

"...yeah, the kiddos are ready for a break…"

"...never gonna get anything done in this heat…"

"...Mama's got enough on her plate, don't need to worry her more…"

The elevator ground to life again through the voices. Seem had arrived, usually the last to show up. Damas' eyes flickered around for Sig, ready to signal the beginning of the meeting.

But a voice cut him off.

"Good evening, Sig. Have you been sleeping well?"

It was like a ripple went through the council. In the circle, heads turned and gazes shifted; breaths caught as Ionna stepped forward to take her place, opposite Damas in the circle. Seem stood beside her, back straight and hands clasped together.

The king shifted, suddenly alert. "Ionna?"

"Damas." She nodded her head respectfully, but was distracted by Kleiver's voice.

"What are you doin' out of your little medic tent?" he grunted. "Get tired of cleaning bedpans?"

"I had some free time," Ionna replied.

A lie, Damas knew. It wasn't about time, it never had been. Ionna hadn't come to a council meeting since Mar's kidnapping. Since he'd imposed the Arena as a citizenship requirement, since she'd claimed that he'd let his fear become tyranny.

"I'll return to your council, King Damas of Spargus, when you've seen the error of your ways. Not a moment sooner."

She and Antwon had both left in protest of the Arena. The council had continued on as normal, with Damas trying desperately to pretend that he hadn't lost two of his oldest and closest advisors.

That had been almost three years ago. Neither had attended a council meeting since: Antwon had retired completely, passing his position onto Sig; while Ionna had simply refused to be a part of it.

Now she was here, standing in the same spot she'd always been in, as if she hadn't even been gone.

Shaking off his thoughts, Damas cleared his throat. "Sig. The council meeting?"

"Right." Sig raised his voice a bit. "Circle up, Wastelanders. Let's get this party started."

As they all fell into their respective places, Damas could feel Ionna's eyes on him. He stood up and nodded at them. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I'm sure you know why I've gathered you."

"Dark Makers attacked the Monk Temple last night." A murmur ran through the circle at the statement, a few eyes flickering over to Seem. "We were lucky; we were able to defend the Temple."

"This victory gives me hope." Damas put his hands behind his back and gazed at them all somberly. "These creatures are not god-like apparitions or alien beings that are beyond our comprehension. They are monsters, plain and simple, and monsters can be defeated."

"Hear, hear!" Rider said enthusiastically. Kleiver growled ferociously and Sig chuckled from beside him.

"So then," Damas continued, heartened by their support, "let's get to it."

Cleaning the infirmary was an ordeal.

For starters, Jak had never been great at cleaning. His standards for "clean" had never matched up to Daxter's, and evidently, they'd never match up to Ionna's, either.

"Use the disinfectant," she explained patiently. "Wipe all the counters down and let them dry. Otherwise, the disinfectant won't have time to work."

Jak wrinkled his nose at the smell. "Can't we just use water?" he asked.

"Water is for cleaning debris. Disinfectant is for disinfecting." She gestured to the bucket of disinfectant. "We have to keep his place clean, or else it becomes a hotbed for disease. We need to deep clean everything: clear out the cabinets, wipe them down, and reorganize them. Daxter, please start emptying the cabinet on the bottom."

Cleaning the infirmary wasn't hard work, but it was a lot of work. It took several hours of scrubbing and organizing before the main infirmary room was finished.

"Excellent job, boys," Ionna said cheerfully, looking around. "You could eat off the floors around here. Don't, please, though, we just cleaned it."

An odd sense of pride filled Jak's chest. It really did look cleaner in here: the counters were shiny and less cluttered, the floor had been swept, and the beds were all tightly made. Daxter gave him a fist bump.

Ionna gestured to the back wall of the infirmary. "Two last tasks, and then you'll be done. The floor needs to be scrubbed, and that cabinet needs to be organized."

She handed Jak the key to the cabinet. Now that he thought about it, he'd never seen her open it. At the question on his face, Ionna added, "There's no terrible secrets in there, you know. It's just where I keep all the scalpels."

With that, Ionna started for the doorway. As she began to pull on her boots, she said, "I have to go to the council meeting tonight. I'm not sure how long it will take, but I'm assuming we'll be there a while. If you finish the last two things, you're free to head home."

"Are you guys going to talk about the Dark Makers?" Jak asked. Daxter hopped onto his shoulder curiously.

"Yes. We need to talk about defending the city, and the possibility of taking that ship out for good." Ionna finished lacing her boots and straightened. "And no, you can't attend," she added. "Only the council members can attend, and you're a bit too young."

Jak opened his mouth to argue, to insist that he wasn't a child. But his mind went back to that morning in the Temple, with all the eager eyes looking at him. They'd been so young, but they were really only a few years younger than him. Would he feel right sending one of those kids off to the catacombs?

To me, you are very young.

"...Have you found anything about the Eco Sphere yet?" he asked instead. Ionna looked surprised; she'd probably expected him to fight his way into the council meeting. "Because the catacombs are beneath the palace in Haven City."

"Not yet," Ionna told him. "But that's part of what we're meeting for. Seem and I are trying to find it in the Temple, but we've still had no luck."

Ionna opened the door, its bell chiming overhead. "Be good," she warned them both sternly. "And if anyone comes in you can't handle…"

"We can handle it," he and Daxter said together. She laughed before stepping out into the city.

As the bell's chime faded, Jak cracked his knuckles. "Alright, then, Dax. Let's get this done and head home."

"You got it, buddy!" Daxter was already pumping hot water into a bucket and had procured a scrub brush from somewhere. Jak went to the cabinet door and carefully opened the lock.

He wrenched open the cabinet. It was cluttered, filled to the brim with random objects. The surgical scalpels were tucked in a box on the top shelf, but everything below that was a mess. Dozens of bandage rolls, old artifacts that shone with dull orange, wadded up rags and cloths, books haphazardly thrown wherever they fit.

Jak folded his arms and sighed. He'd never been the best at organizing, and clearly Ionna wasn't either. He glanced at Daxter.

His friend was grumbling to himself as he scrubbed the floor. "Man, how come we gotta do all this crap?" he complained. "I swear, once we're done with all this world-saving garbage, I'm going back to the Naughty Ottsel and I'm never cleaning anything again!"

"Let's trade," Jak suggested. "You handle the closet, I'll take the floor."

"Done!" Daxter's response was immediate. He threw the wet brush at Jak, who caught it. Soapy water splattered over his chest. "Whoops. Sorry. Eh, whatever, you're gonna get wet anyway."

Jak snorted as he knelt down by the tub. He dunked the brush in, the hot water soaking into his hands. It was comforting, to do something so very normal in a time of crisis, something they'd done hundreds of times before.

They cleaned in silence for a while, the comfortable quiet like a blanket that hovered over them. Daxter was clambering in and out of the closet, weaving between objects as he stacked and sorted. Jak cleaned the floor, his skin turning red from the heat, his palms rubbed raw. He felt a sense of satisfaction, though, when he saw the water slowly turn dirty while the floor became clean.

An hour later, with the sun going down through the window above them, the floor was drying while Daxter finished his work in the closet.

"Maan, this stuff is all junk! What's she keepin' this crap around for, anyway?"

Jak exhaled and sat down at one of the chairs at the counter. "She probably sells it," he said. "Or trades it or…something."

"Yeah?" Daxter yanked out a cast iron pan that was covered in patches of rust. "You think she's sellin' this? For what, negative Precursor orbs?!"

Still, despite his proclamation that it was junk, Daxter was careful as he set it on a shelf. Everything in the closet had been meticulously placed, neat and easy to find. He was on the top shelf now, shuffling things around with purpose.

Abruptly, Daxter slung himself out of the cabinet. "Hey, Jak, look at this!" He tossed the object he'd found to his friend. "Been a while since we've seen one of these babies!"

Jak caught it. It was a power cell, its Precursor metal heavy in his hand. "Geez, this takes me back. How many hours did we waste collecting these things?"

"Not to mention, all the orbs we gave to the Mayor!" Daxter leapt onto the counter. He mimicked the Mayor's anxious pacing. "Well, my boys, uh," he mocked, "if you give me, er, ninety Precursor orbs, then I can give you a power cell!" Daxter rolled his eyes. "Like we even needed the stupid power cells!"

"We kind of did, Dax."

"Yeah, so that we could find Gol and Maia!" Daxter flopped into the chair and draped his paw dramatically over his eyes. "And look how that turned out!"

"Yeah," Jak admitted wearily, "I guess we wouldn't have ended up here if we hadn't found all those power cells."

"Ugh, don't remind me!" Daxter's tail wiggled in indignation. "A hundred freaking power cells, and all we got was a trip to scenic Haven City! You, too, can sight-see such tourist attractions as: an open sewer grate! A homeless man fighting another homeless man for a sandwich! A Krimzon Guard shoving his gun in…"

As Daxter ranted, Jak turned the power cell over in his hand. It was rusted, but as he tapped it, it sprang to life, glowing with energy. The hum of Precursor technology filled his ears, bringing with it the memory of a previous life: his feet drumming on orange metal, fresh air and the salt of the sea, winds rustling his hair as he stood on top of the silos…

Jak straightened in his seat. Daxter was still rattling off the sights of the future beside him, unaware that his friend had just had an epiphany.

"And let's not forget, Spargus City, with such beautiful scenes as: nothing! Just...sand! Sand everywhere! Sand in your fur, sand in your mouth, sand in your eyes!"

"Come on, Dax, we need to find Ionna!" He grabbed his friend and started for the door. The bell jingled as he shut it and stepped out into the city.

"Ack! What'dya do that for?!" Daxter freed himself from Jak's grip and climbed on this shoulder. "What's the hurry all the sudden?"

"It's the Eco Sphere." Jak ran faster, Daxter's claws gripping the shoulder plate tightly. "I know where it is."

Up on the silos, at the very top of Gol and Maia's citadel, Jak stared out over the world.

It was awe-inspiring; to see the entire land spread out before his eyes. Off to the south, he could spot Rock Village and Boggy Swamp. If he squinted, he could even see the shoreline of Sentinel Beach just beyond that. There was also a spot on the horizon that was shrouded in mist, hidden from view but obvious to those who'd been there.

And to the north, well…

Uncharted territory.

Jak grinned as he gazed out over the land he'd never seen. He could go explore the entire world if he wanted to. Crystal clear lakes, grassy fields, he could even spot a huge waterfall! He couldn't wait.

"Hey! You aren't off here day-dreamin' again, are you?"

Jak looked over his shoulder. Daxter had arrived, tagging along beside Keira. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, while Keira stood beside him.

"Don't get too caught up, Jak," she said. "Remember, Daddy said we need to crack open that Precursor door before we do anything else!"

"Ugh, more power cells?" Daxter grumbled and kicked at one of the crates nearby. "I mean, we're heroes, so it's no problem for us, but it's still annoying! And there's probably nothin' in there, anyway!"

Jak put his hands on his hips and gave Keira a nudge. He reached into his bag and pulled out one of the power cells. She took it from him with a smile.

"We're almost there, guys! This is, what, power cell eighty-six?" She rubbed it over her palm. "Wow! I'm impressed by my...um, our hero." She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and fluttered her eyes at Jak. He blushed red and gave an awkward chuckle.

"Hurk! I'm gonna puke!" Daxter mockingly grabbed his stomach. "Ugh...I can't believe you'd go for Jak instead of me. He doesn't even have chest hair!"

Jak smacked the back of his friend's head. Keira laughed and handed the power cell back to him. "Well, go on!"

Jak took it and stepped up to the door. With a click, he set the power cell into place, watching it buzz with power. Funny, he thought. When he looked at the door all lit up like this, it almost looked like a sunset…

A sunset with lightning bolts coming out of the sun.

"Hey, take a picture, it'll last longer!" Daxter took a running leap and clambered onto Jak's shoulder. "Let's get going, I'm hungry."

"Oh, yeah, the yellow sage invited us over for barbeque," Keira added, slipping her arm into Jak's. "Let's go check it out!"

"Ugh, barbeque?" Daxter rolled his eyes as they started towards the elevator. "What's he barbequin', muskrat?"

"Ew, gross, Daxter!"

As his friend's continued talking, Jak took one last glance at the door. The power cells were discharged now; the door was no longer lit up.

In the darkness, it could almost look like just a blank wall with a mural on it.

Shout out to the single anonymous review on July 15, 2021, who correctly guessed that the mural in the temple was the Precursor Door from TPL. It took 3 years for you to be validated, if you're still reading. :)