Okay, I'll admit it: I got stuck on the part of this chapter with Samos. He just...ugh, he's the worst. And he doesn't deserve any character development or a redemption arc, but I did it anyway. Bleh.

Happy reading!


To be honest, though he would never say it out loud, Samos could not figure out why his younger self had thought so highly of Tess.

She was frustratingly dim-witted. It was no wonder she enjoyed Daxter's company so much, and vice versa. They were on the same level, mentally speaking. Always chattering about unimportant, banal things. Never able to answer a question without going off on some kind of tangent.

As demonstrated by the fact that Samos had asked about Keira, and Tess was now prattling on about the time the two of them had a homemade spa day and braided each other's hair. Three months ago.

"...and then we played some of those girly sleepover games, you know? Can you believe Keira had never played MASH? She'd never even heard of it!"

Samos watched anxiously as Tess wiped down the bar. "That's...very well and good," he said delicately. "But have you heard anything from Keira lately ?"

"Oh, yeah," Tess said brightly. "Talked to her a few days ago. I think she just took a bit of a vacation, you know?"

"Vacation?" Samos shook his head irritably. "What in the Precursors does that mean?"

Tess put away the cleaning cloth and started to count the bottles of alcohol behind her. "Hmm...we'll need some more Fireball before Daxter gets back...people love that stuff…"

"Tess! Where is Keira?" Samos followed her as she started rearranging the bottles on the shelves. "She didn't go on vacation, she's gone!"

"Oh, you're always so worried about her," Tess dismissed. "Keira's fine, she's a grown woman. Give her some space to grow up and become the beautiful butterfly you always knew she could be!"

Samos raised an eyebrow. Tess sighed, exasperated, and said, "Alright, if you promise not to get mad...Keira went to the Wasteland."

Samos stared at her, dumbfounded. "The Wasteland? She...why would she…?"

"She wanted to visit Jak." Tess tilted her head to the side. "She seemed pretty adamant about it. Wouldn't take no for an answer."

Well, that certainly sounded like Keira. Still, Samos felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "B-but the Wasteland is dangerous! She could be killed!"

"She's fine," Tess said soothingly. "She's with Jak and Daxter and Sig. Nothing bad'll happen, I promise."

"You can't guarantee something like that!" Samos argued. "She could have gotten lost, or run out of water, or—!"

"Keep it down over there, will you?" Torn's annoyance was clear. Whatever he was working on, he wasn't happy. "I'm trying to focus."

"I told you, Keira's safe. She just popped over to visit Jak, okay?" Tess gently took Samos' upper arm and started to lead him out. "Now, I suggest you go relax a bit. Take a nice hot bath, or go do some yoga!"

"I am not—! I need to—!" For all his bluster, Tess managed to nudge him out of the Naughty Ottsel. "Tess!"

"Bye, Samos!" She waved as the door shut, leaving him alone in the port. He stood there for a moment, then exhaled in annoyance.

She was right. Keira was safe, he reasoned. As he started to walk, Samos repeated the words to himself. Keira was safe. Sig knew what he was doing out in the Wasteland. Jak would take care of her.

At the thought of Jak, Samos felt a sudden sting of guilt.

Guilt, because for all his fears about Keira being in the Wasteland, he hadn't had a single one about Jak being banished there. Guilt, because he had never even considered that Jak would be in danger. Guilt, because he had failed at the one thing he'd promised himself he would do.

He always told himself that he would look after the boy.

In Sandover, Samos had watched over him. Seen him grow, seen him make friends, seen him become the hero he was destined to be. But there was a distance, a sort of...wall that Samos had carefully constructed.

That was why he'd arranged for Jak to live with the explorer, the man he called "Uncle." A spirited adventurer who was all too happy to have a protege to teach. He'd never had children of his own, he told Samos. His one great regret.

So Jak had been raised by his uncle, while Samos taught him and watched over him from a distance, the wall still there between them. The boy would face horrors unimaginable; it was best not to get too attached.

And now Samos was left only with guilt for a boy behind a wall.

Looking up, he realized he'd been walking through the slums while lost in his thoughts. He could hear the metal heads, skittering away from his powers. Green eco: it had always been a deterrent. It had kept the Lurkers away from the village, all those years ago.

At the entrance to Deadtown, Samos stopped in his tracks.

He had been born here, on the shore of murky ocean waters. His parents had been herbalists, doctors, sometimes even surgeons, when the need called for it. He'd been raised with the mantra of "Do good or do nothing, Samos," and he'd taken it to heart.

Young Samos had a green thumb: his parents put him in charge of growing the tiny, windowsill garden on the outside of their hut. They never knew his secret, of course; they never knew that he could make the plants glow an acid green as they grew, their whispers shuddering in his ears, thanking him for his help.

Years later, after his parents had passed and he had taken residence as the local herbalist/doctor/sometimes-even-surgeon, Samos had learned more about green eco. About these strange powers that let him grow and heal.

He hadn't paid much attention when Praxis took over. A child-king or a war hero, what did it matter? The ruler of Haven City hardly affected Samos, and his little chunk of the city. What did he care for political dealings and underhanded coups? There were people to heal, herbs to grow. There was good to be done.

He should have cared. Instead, he'd simply gone about his business, doing good while doing nothing.

Until the metal heads broke through.

And Samos had no choice but to watch in abject horror, as his friends and neighbors, those he had healed and taught and lived with, had to fight off the monsters. Screaming and dying and crying and hiding. In the mad rush to get away, they'd headed for the wall to the city proper.

"He blocked us off!"

"What?! There's still civilians out here! We're still out here! "

"Praxis called for a tactical retreat! No one can get in or out!"

Their leader left them out here to die. As Samos watched the people fall back in fear, watched the guards raise their guns in one last stand, he'd felt the eco whisper to him, a response to his fear, the same voice he'd always heard when he made his parents' herbs grow.

We can help.

Without his input, all the eco rushed through him, and the plants answered his call. Vines smashed through the buildings, roots ripped themselves out of the ground. They grew and coalesced around the metal heads, glowing green and burning the creatures. Howls of pain filled the air, as the guards began to shoot their now-paralyzed enemies.

Behind him, another set of vines intertwined with each other, creating a makeshift ladder over the wall.

"Civilians, head for the wall!" A commander, a man too young to be a leader in a war, called out orders. "Climb over! KG, cover their retreat! Go, go!"

A few moments later, the eco ebbed away. Samos couldn't keep it up; he was too exhausted. The vines lost their glow as he pitched forward. The young Guard ran to him.

Samos didn't remember much else after that. He was vaguely aware of being slung over the man's shoulder and carried over the wall, into the city. He woke up in a dingy apartment, with the young man wrapping his own wounds, grimacing as he tried to use a pitiful little health pack to heal them.

Tattoos on his face, a ripped Krimzon Guard uniform, a gash across his back. Samos hadn't thought anything of it then: he'd wordlessly gotten up and started to heal the young man.

And that...that had started it all.

In the present, Samos stared down at the entrance to Deadtown. It seemed to mock him. Look who's on the other side of the wall now, it said. Are you doing good or are you doing nothing?

Samos abruptly turned away. He had done what needed to be done. He had done everything because of the greater good , to save the world! The destruction of Dead Town was bad enough: what would the metal heads have done if they'd conquered all of Haven City?

Surely, he insisted to himself, he hadn't really had a choice.

Still, in the back of his mind, the guilt nagged at Samos.


When Jak and Daxter entered the infirmary, bell chiming above his head as usual, they saw Ionna sitting at the counter. She was resting her head on her arms, eyes closed. Daxter shot Jak a worried look.

"Uh, hey, Doc. You okay?" Daxter gently nudged her with his paw. "Up 'n' attem, wakey wakey!"

Ionna's eyes shot open. "Hello, Daxter. I'm perfectly fine." She sat up and stretched, yawning. Despite the early morning "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Man, some of you guys need to learn to relax," Daxter said smoothly. "Chill out, go hang in the shade, take a nice nap."

"If I took time to nap," Ionna said wryly, "I wouldn't be able to get much done around here."

Now that Jak looked closer, Ionna did seem tired. Her eyes had dark circles under them, and there was something lethargic about her movements. He hesitated, then put his hands on his hips.

"We can take a rain check, if you want."

"It's very sweet that the two of you are concerned," she said with a smile. "But a sleepless night is hardly the worst thing to go through. I'll survive."

She sighed and rolled up her sleeves, loosening her muscles. "Now, let's talk light eco, shall we?" She picked up a bottle of eco and nodded to Jak. "I think we've spent more than enough time developing your healing abilities. What shall we work on next?"

"But I don't think I can do what you do," Jak argued as he absorbed the eco. He never thought he'd be the one trying to slow his lessons down. "My healing isn't as good as yours."

"And it most likely never will be." She said it so matter-of-factly that he was almost insulted. "Don't forget, I have spent years training in one specific type of eco. The only person with healing abilities greater than mine would be a green eco sage."

"Oh, geez, don't mention him!" Daxter put his fingers in his ears to block out any mention of Samos. "Lalalala!"

"But still…" Jak flexed his hands while Daxter loudly hummed in the background. "Do you think I'm ready to learn what's next?"

"As ready as you'll ever be," she confirmed. When he still didn't seem convinced, she set a hand on his shoulder. "Do not feel like you are behind, child. Your abilities are incredible, especially from someone with no formal training."

Jak made a noise in his throat. "Yeah. I guess." He reached behind himself to slap Daxter. "Hey, Dax! Shut up, will you? We're not talking about Samos anymore."

"Good! If I never hear Ol' Loghead's name again, I'll be a happy ottsel!" He folded his arms and glanced over at Ionna. "So, what now?"

"Well, you mentioned that you wanted to try projectile shooting," Ionna said. "We can start on that, though we'll have to go somewhere else before we actually start shooting things." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I'd like to avoid going out of the city right now...I'll think of something."

She picked up another book from the shelf and flipped through it. Jak cocked his head curiously as she laid it down on the counter for him to look at. "These look like battle stances," he remarked.

Ionna nodded and gave him an encouraging smile. "Good observation. These are the physical forms used to propel eco from your body." She tapped her finger on the first set of diagrams. "We'll try them a few times without eco for now. Watch."

She exhaled and took a fighting stance. Jak and Daxter watched as she brought one fist up to her chest and held the other outstretched. With an abrupt punching motion, she jolted her other arm forward, palm out, and brought the other back to her chest.

"So...it's a punch?" Jak shrugged at Daxter, who shrugged back. "Seems easy enough."

"The form itself is not difficult," she admitted, "but it's not just a punch. The movements mirror how the eco flows through your body." She did the same movements again, slower. "You gather energy in your chest, and propel it out of your hand."

"Looks like a punch to me," Daxter cracked. "And lemme tell you, if there's one thing Jak can do, it's punch things."

Ionna let out a huff of laughter. "This form also sets you up for another attack," she explained. "See how my stance is the same, but my arms are reversed? You can follow it up with another blast of eco."

She demonstrated, showing him a series of imaginary shots. Jak watched with avid interest, already imagining how he could chain some of his own moves to it. A spin kick, he thought, right afterwards to follow it up. Or even a jump while he was shooting...

Ionna let her arms drop and turned to him. "I can see the gears in your head turning. But you must remember, these powers are not toys to play with."

Jak frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Eco powers are difficult to master and difficult to control." She gestured to the book. "For example, when you do this, you're essentially just throwing raw eco at your enemy. Be smart about it; don't use all your eco at once."

Jak nodded and mimicked her stance, while she watched. "Pull your arm back towards your chest, at the same time you throw your other arm out." She nodded appraisingly as he did so. "Good. Now, the hand you're shooting with should be palm-out. This lets the eco have an easy access point to exit your body."

Jak nodded. "Palm out," he repeated. "Gather the eco inside my chest and let it out from my hand. Got it."

She led him through the form a few times, then stood back to watch him. Finally, she said, "Excellent. You're a quick learner, Jak."

He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Um...thanks."

She held out the bottle of eco and uncapped it. "Let's try channeling the eco. As I said, we can't actually shoot anything, but I want you to get a feel for how it moves through your body."

He took the eco in, letting it settle in his chest. He inhaled slowly as he went back into the battle stance.

"Go slow," Ionna instructed. "Separate and channel the yellow eco to your hand."

Jak did as she said, pulling on the yellow eco until it surged up his arm. He moved his hand forward, palm out, stopping the eco before it left his hand. He let it fizzle out on his fingertips, imagining a ball of swirling yellow energy spiraling through the air.

"Hmm." She wrapped her hand around his wrist and brought his arm up a few inches. "Your technique is fine, but you need to keep your shoulders straight."

He nodded and pretended to take another shot. Ionna frowned. "What?" he asked. "What did I do wrong?"

"You...nothing." She tilted her head. "You're fine. Go on."

He went through the forms a few more times, shooting imaginary eco at an imaginary enemy. After a while, Ionna said, "Take a break."

Jak stretched his arms behind his shoulders. "That gets kind of tiring," he told her. "Is that because of the eco?"

"It's probably just the repetitive movements." Ionna folded her arms, suddenly serious. "But you should be careful. If you overexert yourself, you could collapse."

Daxter rolled his eyes dramatically. "Puh-lease! Look at who you're talkin' to. When has Jak ever—and I mean ever —gone overboard with anything?"

Jak glared at Daxter, who flashed him a grin. Ionna, however, was not amused. Eyeing him with a stern look, she said, "This is not something to joke around with. You are both very young, and very brave. But youth and bravery often have disastrous consequences." She gave them both a fond smile, her face softening. "Just...be aware of your limits. Don't push yourself too hard; we want to keep you around for a bit."

Jak opened his mouth, then shut it again, resigned. "Yeah. I'll be careful."

She chuckled lightly. "Thank you. I know you're not actually going to be careful, but it means a lot that you're willing to lie."

Daxter snickered. "She's got your number," he said, jabbing a furry thumb at Jak. "Young and reckless, that's what you are."

Jak wandered aimlessly to the counter and flipped through the book she still had out. "You know," he said absent-mindedly, "I've only ever gotten tired after channeling dark eco. Everything else, I just...never had that problem."

"Yeah, he even danced right after he channeled light eco the first time," Daxter teased. "Fit as a fiddle."

Ionna shook her head at them both. "Youth. It's wasted on the young." She sighed as she went to return the book to its rightful shelf. "Of course, I suppose we're all a bit reckless when we're young. I'm hardly one to talk about pushing the limits of your abilities."

Daxter snickered, but Jak tilted his head. "You don't seem like the reckless type."

"Hmph." Ionna closed her eyes, a smile on her face. "I told you, child. We're all a bit reckless when we're young."


Standing on a rocky ledge, looking down over hundreds of oblivious metal heads, Ionna fiddled with the gleaming Krimzon Guard pin on her collar.

Damas had given it to her in the transport, on their way to the eastern eco mine. Once the six of them—Praxis, Yasir, Ali, Antwon, Damas, and herself—had piled into the transport, sitting uncomfortably close on the bench seats, Damas had insisted on pinning it to the tunic under her armor.

The Precursor monks usually wore leather armor, lightweight and flexible. But the armor she was wearing now was plated Precursor metal, dull from years in storage, but much more suited to combat. Warrior's armor, Onin had told her, a sad smile playing on her lips.

The armor fit better than Ionna expected. It was almost as if it was made specifically for her: perfectly tailored around her arms and calves, flexible enough to bend around her midriff, flared around her shoulders to allow movement.

It fit a little too well, she thought.

"There's usually a ceremony," Damas said as he attached the pin to the cloth, "where we induct you formally into the Guard, but this will have to do."

"Welcome to the club, young sage." Yasir tilted his head respectfully at her. "We will make good use of your expertise."

Praxis rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. Ionna didn't pay him any attention; it had become clear, over the past several meetings, that he did not agree with her placement in the Krimzon Guard. But Damas had insisted: if she was going to fight like a Krimzon Guard, she deserved to have the title.

Now, standing beside Damas, Ionna peered over the eco mine.

They had landed the transports on the bluffs overlooking the lake where the metal heads were. It gave them enough space to survey their situation, while also allowing them to make a quick escape if they needed it.

The lake was in a valley, surrounded by cavernous mountains and jagged cliffs. Eco ore glittered in the lake bed, visible even from their vantage point. It was only Damas and Ionna on the bluffs now; the others had all gone down to ground level, scouting from there.

"We have them boxed in," Ionna noted. She gestured to the southern side of the valley. There was only one way out of the area on foot: a narrow, metal bridge that hung over a seemingly endless chasm in the rocks.

Beside her, Damas' sharp eyes were on the lake. "That may be true, but there are a lot of them," he murmured. He had his rifle still strapped to his back, not wanting to risk alerting the metal heads to their presence. He pressed the button for his communicator. "Praxis, what are you seeing down there?"

A crackle, then a gruff voice. "Mostly grunts. I'm sure there are plenty of the crawlers, too."

"I don't see any metal jackets or wasps," Damas reported. "The air is clear."

"Not quite," Antwon said grimly. "Over on the east side, there are some flyers, the bigger ones. They'll be a nuisance."

Damas surveyed the battlefield. "I can take care of the flyers," he told them. "I have a good vantage point from up here, and a bigger metal head is a bigger target."

"I'll take the eastern side," Ali said. "If Damas handles the flyers, I can take the ground."

"The majority of the men will need to head to the western side," Damas said. "Most of the metal heads are clustered around there. Ionna was right, they've started to nest near the lake."

"Antwon and I can cover the enemies on the lake," Yasir said immediately. "Ali, take five men. I'll take fifteen to clear out the lake."

"And I'll take the rest to cover the entrance to the bridge," Praxis concluded. "None of those vile creatures will escape us!"

"Then we have a plan." He looked over at Ionna. "You need to conserve your eco. Just...watch my back. Provide support if needed. I trust your judgement."

Ionna glanced over at him. He was setting his rifle up on the rocky ledge, fiddling with the sight. His armor was lighter-weight than that of the other Krimzon Guards; it had more open area and was more maneuverable. His amulet, the rosy Seal of Mar, hung from his neck. As she watched, he ran his fingers along the trigger of the gun, ready to fire at a moment's notice.

She nodded and turned away, back towards the battlefield. She needed to be ready, too. "Of course, Your Highness."

Praxis' voice came back over the communicator. "If you're ready, we'll start. Antwon?"

"Yes, General." Below them, Antwon pulled a set of grenades off his belt. "I'll send a blast their way. Get ready: they're not going to be happy about it."

The comms went silent as they all waited. Fifteen seconds later, a loud explosion was heard, followed by the sound of snarls and buzzing. Damas raised his rifle, patient and focused, violet eyes flickering around the sky.

The flying metal heads burst up from their resting place, dark wings fluttering around grotesquely. Ionna readied herself, but Damas had his rifle out and aimed in seconds. With a quick series of shots, four of the flyers went spiraling to the ground.

"More on the way, Your Highness." Ali's warning came seconds before another wave of flyers, growling angrily into the sky. "Stay sharp."

"As if I'm ever not." Another round of shots rang out, barely covering Ali's laughter.

As Ionna kept watch, her eco at her fingertips, Damas made quick work of the metal heads; the flyers were slow-moving, and he was such a quick shot, they never even managed to get close. Below them, the rest of the soldiers were holding their own. On the ground, dozens of skull gems glowed eerily in the half-light.

She could distantly see Antwon, blasting grenades into masses of metal heads, dark eco misting above their bodies. Not far away, Praxis was holding the line by the bridge, using his sword to swipe any fleeing metal heads. She couldn't see Yasir, though she did see a crackle of blue electricity that was Ali's favored weapon.

"Damas, you've got some trouble coming your way." Antwon's voice was calm and clear through the communicator. "A few of the crawlers are headed up to where you are. Get ready."

Damas glanced wryly at Ionna. "Can you handle this?" he asked. "Or should I call Praxis up here?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do I need to break your jaw again?"

He snorted out a laugh and went back to his rifle. "I was just checking. I know how you monks are."

"I should let the metal heads have you." With that, Ionna heard the clicking of the metal heads skittering towards them. Before Damas could respond, she ran towards the enemies.

Red eco swirled through her muscles, pulsing in her hands. She ran to the first crawler and grabbed its tail, her fingers holding tight to the thick, scaly appendage. With a grunt, she hurled it over the edge of the cliffside, flailing and shrieking. She gathered eco to shoot it, but before she could, there was an echoing 'pop!' from behind her. The metal head exploded into dark eco, its skull gem bouncing down the cliff.

"Ha!" Damas smirked from behind his scope, the barrel still smoking. "You'll have to be quicker than that."

Ionna debated saying something back, but there was no time: another crawler was coming up to her. She grabbed its tail and threw it over; once again, Damas shot it in midair. Ionna didn't waste time, picking up another and tossing it off the side effortlessly. They started to get into a good rhythm, picking off the crawlers one by one.

By the time they had made their way through the small horde of enemies, Ionna's arms ached. She exhaled as she turned to Damas, who was balancing his rifle on his shoulders, behind his neck. He gave her a tilted smile.

"Nice arm," he remarked.

"Passable aim," she replied.

Damas gave a bark of laughter, just as something growled behind him.

"Damas, look out!" Ionna lunged forward and grabbed hold of the Seal around his neck. She hauled him towards her, forcing him to stumble forward as a metal head grunt slashed its claws at his back. The leather cord snapped, leaving Ionna holding the amulet in her palm.

Damas hissed in pain, but he managed to keep his balance. He spun around and shot, killing the grunt quickly. "Dammit!"

"Here, I can heal you," she began, but he waved her off.

"Minor injury. Save your eco for those who really need it." He jostled his shoulders and aimed the gun into the darkness. "Get ready, there's more coming!"

Ionna pulled on a thread of red eco and prepared herself. There were at least four more metal heads advancing towards them; she mentally calculated that, if she could get a hit on the closest, Damas could take out the rest quickly.

Her eyes slid to Damas. He was concentrating, and she got the feeling he was coming to the same conclusion. He met her eyes and nodded towards the nearest metal head, shifting his rifle. She tossed the amulet to him, its earthy red a streak through the air between them. He pocketed it and raised his rifle.

And suddenly, the metal heads froze.

The nearest one gave a snarl and they turned, running back from where they'd come from. Damas looked at Ionna, bewildered. "Why are they retreating?"

"...Maybe they were afraid," she suggested, just as confused as he was.

The communicator crackled to life again. "Enemy retreating on the east side," Ali reported.

"Retreating by the lake, too," Antwon confirmed. "It...looks like they're headed towards the caves. Back to the nest."

"...Did we win?" Ali asked. "Are they gone?"

"..." Damas frowned at Ionna. "I don't like this," he said over the communicator. "Why are they retreating?"

"It could be some sort of diversionary tactic," Yasir replied. "Perhaps they are lulling us into a false sense of security, and intend to strike when we are vulnerable."

"Or they headed back for reinforcements," Praxis added gruffly. "Either way, we shouldn't remain here to find out. Head up towards the…"

He trailed off as a dark shadow hovered over him, appearing almost from nowhere. Damas looked up, rifle at the ready, as the shadow grew bigger.

"Wh-what is that?" Ali's voice cracked as the figure making the shadow came closer to the ground. "It...it's a…"

"Metal head," Ionna breathed.

It was huge and grotesque, almost like a hybrid of all the other types of metal heads. It had an almost human-like aspect to it: Ionna could see that, though it had six insectoid legs, it also had two very human-looking arms. Its huge tail was covered with glowing pustules, ending in spikes. She caught a glimpse of the skull gem that sat on his head, almost like a crown.

Its massive jaw opened as it growled at them, descending down into the center of the valley. As they all watched, its eyes darted around, searching. Finally, it made a noise.

It took a moment for Ionna to recognize the sound; it was raspy and breathy, low in a way that seemed to a mockery of human sounds.

Laughter.

The metal head was laughing.

Damas was evidently just as alarmed by this as she was. His eyes widened and he took a few steps back. "What the hell…?" He trailed off, dumbstruck. Ionna knew the feeling.

The communicator clicked to life. "Damas," Praxis said in a low, stern voice, "get into one of the transports. Do not leave it, do you understand? Do not get near that thing!"

If Damas was listening, he certainly didn't act like it. Instead of turning around to the transport, he leapt off the edge of the cliff and began to slide down, almost as if he were surfing along the rocks. Ionna could distantly hear Praxis' shriek of anger as the communicator followed him down.

Sighing, she followed.

Sliding down to the bottom of the bluff, she ended up next to Damas, who had already shut off the communicator. "Do you ever listen to what he says?" she asked, brushing dirt off her armor.

"I always listen to what he says." Damas ducked behind a rock, scoping out the metal head. "I just don't do it."

They crept along the rocks, avoiding the monster's line of sight. Praxis had started to fight it, switching between his blaster and his green-glowing sword. Before she could say anything, Damas ran forward, rifle raised.

Ionna groaned and ran after him, getting her own weapons ready. Red eco wouldn't be helpful here, she thought. Yellow eco, absolutely. She inhaled and felt the eco well up inside of herself, eager to be thrown.

Ahead of them, Damas took a few shots at the metal head. They pinged harmlessly off his torso, causing him to laugh. Ionna had a split second when she saw the creature swipe towards them with his tail.

She slowed down to avoid it. Damas didn't.

The monster's tail slammed into Damas' midriff, sending him flying, careening towards the bridge. Towards the bridge and that empty, endless chasm. Ionna let the eco take over, completely transforming, her wings unfurling around her as she took off after him.

"Your Highness!" She was distantly aware that the metal head laughed again, and Praxis shouted something, but she had already zoomed through the air.

She caught up with Damas before he landed in the chasm, luckily. She grabbed hold of his wrist and swung him up into the air.

Damas managed to twist in midair and land on his feet, picking up and running with surprisingly flexible movements. Ionna flew alongside him as he ran back towards the battle; he glanced over and his eyes widened in shock.

"Ionna?" Right. He had never seen her complete transformation before, had never seen her wings. Before he could say anything else, she swirled in midair and landed in front of him on graceful feet. The eco burst off her skin in vibrant light.

"Monks," he said, slowing to a stop. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Your Highness!" Antwon skidded to a stop beside them, panting with exertion. Yasir followed right behind, shouldering his scatter gun. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"Don't worry about me." Damas glanced over Antwon's shoulder. Praxis was still engaged with the metal head, while Ali ran towards them now. "How is everyone else?"

"A few casualties," Antwon reported. "But we need to retreat before it becomes a lot more."

Damas clenched his jaw. "I didn't come here to retreat."

Ali stepped forward abruptly, his frustration making him lose any sense of politeness. "I don't think you understand. That thing over there? That's the metal head leader. That thing can talk, and it's not saying anything nice." He glared at the king. "We have no chance against it."

"We must be strategic," Yasir said softly. He nodded to Damas and Ionna. "The king and the sage should be our priorities for safety. Ali, go with them and support their retreat. Head over the bridge and get to the outpost. We'll follow when we can."

Ali puffed his chest up. "I'm not going to leave you behind," he began, but Yasir interrupted him.

"I am your superior officer and your older brother. Do as I say." He gave Ali a quirk of a smile. "Or I'll call our mother here to come tell you off."

Ali didn't look happy, but he didn't argue. Instead, he just grabbed Damas' wrist tightly. "Let's go, then."

Despite Damas' protests, he yanked the king towards the bridge. Ionna followed behind, footsteps faltering as they heard a roar behind them.

"...We can't just…" She glanced over her shoulder helplessly. Yasir and Antwon had both gone back to help Praxis, who was ducking and dodging the huge claws aimed his way. She bit her lip and kept running to keep up with Ali and Damas.

Damas, who was now shouting. "We can't just leave them!" He struggled to escape Ali's grip, but the guard held fast. "Dammit, Ali!"

"We need to get you out of here." Ali ignored his protests and kept going. "The others will be fine, trust me."

"Don't you dare lie to me, Ali," Damas began, but he was cut off by an ear-splitting screech. Behind them, the metal head leader took flight, his enormous wings beating a whirlwind around them.

"No! You will not escape!" His voice, hoarse and booming, echoed above them. He hovered for a moment, then let out a blast of dark eco.

Ionna prepared her shield, but the blast wasn't headed for them. It soared over their heads, directly for the bridge ahead. With a crash of metal, the bridge exploded, broken wreckage all that remained.

"Well, there goes that plan." Ali finally let go of Damas' wrist, slowing to a stop. He looked up at the metal head hovering above them. "Holy shit, that thing's huge."

Damas fumbled with his gun and pointed it towards the creature. Ali raised his own weapon, eyes flickering across the battlefield. He seemed to be weighing a lot of options, and he didn't seem particularly pleased with any of them.

"I'll try to hold him off," he said finally. "You two head back the other way and run for the transports."

"Not a chance." Damas' hands were as steady as always, but his voice was definitely grimmer than usual.

Ali growled in his throat. "Very noble of you, Your Highness, but—"

"No, I really mean, there's no chance." Damas' eyes were still on the huge creature above their heads. "It's coming after me. That's why it blew up the bridge...it wants me." He shot Ali a wry look. "I doubt I can make a break for it."

Ali bit his lip. Clearly, he didn't like this fact. Ionna looked between the two, an idea forming in her head.

"Can you two keep him distracted?" she whispered. Damas' eyes flashed to her. "I have an idea. It might not work, but…"

"What is it?" Damas asked. The metal head leered down at them, his eyes flickering between them. It settled on Damas, who grimaced. It slowly sunk down towards the ground, between them and where the bridge had been.

"I'm going to try and back it into the chasm." She swallowed her fear and exhaled. "It probably won't die, but maybe we'll have a chance to escape."

"It's not like we have any better ideas," Ali said, setting his shoulders. "What do you need us to do?"

"Shoot at it. Try to keep it from noticing me." She inhaled slowly. "Just...keep the damn thing busy for a few minutes."

Ionna slid back a few feet, gathering the eco into her body. Damas and Ali both stepped closer to the metal head, readying their guns. It laughed, cold and cruel and oddly human for such an inhumane creature.

"The last heir of Mar. How kind of you to appear before me. Tell me, boy, are you that eager to see your father again?"

Damas gripped his rifle tight and sneered at the metal head. "I don't intend to die here today."

"If only your intentions meant anything."

Without preamble, Damas and Ali both opened fire. The bullets ricocheted off the creature's shell, making it laugh derisively. "Fools! You think you stand a chance against me?"

Ionna reached into her chest for the light eco. She pulled on the thread of yellow eco, letting it course through her arm. It hit her fingertips and she exhaled.

With a jerk forward, she shot the eco out of her palm. It hit the metal head mid-laugh, causing it to stumble back a few feet and let out a shriek of pain.

"Light eco?! How….?!" his eyes fell on Ionna. Damas and Ali both continued shooting, but it had eyes only for her. "Haha...how cute. The heir of Mar made a little friend."

The metal head leader skittered over to face Ionna. "Tell me, monk," it spat, "will you still serve a king from the grave?"

Damas shouted something at it, but Ionna didn't bother to waste her own breath. She pulled on the yellow eco again and let loose another shot. The metal head screeched and recoiled a few more feet.

Closer to the edge.

Another shot, another few feet. It was no longer laughing or mocking now, but intent on her. It shot a blast of dark eco at her, but she was ready: her shield came up and covered her, letting the blast dissipate harmlessly around her.

The metal head growled. "I see...so you're no normal monk."

Ionna shot another blast of eco, this one hitting it squarely in the chest. It was forced back another few feet, but not enough. Panting, she wiped her forehead, some of the paint coming off on her shaking hand.

She was running out of eco. It was getting harder and harder for her to pull together another shot. She concentrated and reached into herself to pull on the well of eco.

Fifty more feet. She could do this. Two, maybe three more shots.

She swallowed as the metal head bore down on her, his pupil less eyes gleaming. If she had enough in her for two or three more shots. If she didn't miss. If that thing didn't decide to just kill her now, while she was trying to gather her energy. If—

"And here I thought you were after me!"

A shot rang out and hit the metal head directly in his skull gem. The creature howled in rage and turned his attention towards Damas, who was giving it an almost feral grin.

"I will destroy you, your foolish monks, and your precious city!" It charged another eco blast, this one aimed at Damas, but Ionna was quicker. With an exhale, she threw another blast at it, right at his underbelly.

Further towards the edge. She closed her eyes to concentrate. She could hear footsteps, loud voices, gunshots, but she had to focus. The metal head roared again, and she let loose another shot.

This one hit his head, causing it to screech in either pain, anger, or both. Ionna gasped a ragged breath and tried to gather enough eco for one more shot. It hurt; a sharp pain ran through her chest and up her arm. She grit her teeth.

"Aim for his skull gem. That'll stun him." Damas' voice was close to her; she realized he had run to her side. "The rest of us will try to push him back a bit further, keep him distracted."

The rest of them? She looked around to see that Antwon, Yasir, and Praxis had all appeared beside them, ready to fight. She set her shoulders and shot Damas a hesitant look.

"I...I might not be able to…"

Damas shook his head at her. "Now is not the time for 'might.' If you manage it, great. If you don't…" He glanced around at the other KG. "Then we'll do what we can."

She nodded at him, and he nodded back. "Go," she whispered, and he did. He ran back to the other Guards, taking well-aimed shots as he went. She inhaled shakily and closed her eyes.

Concentrate. She still had some eco, deep down inside, and she needed it. Every scrap, every drop, every single bit of light eco needed to be in this shot.

It welled up in her chest like an old friend, a hopeful flame burning in the darkness. She exhaled and opened her eyes to see the metal head leader.

She took careful aim at the skull gem on his head, hoping that it would be enough. She pulled back for a moment, readying herself, and jolted forward.

Fwoosh.

The last shot of light eco hit the metal head directly in his skull gem. He let out a shrill scream, and as he stumbled around in apparent pain, Damas took a few well-aimed shots at his knees (or, the metal head equivalent, she guessed).

He lost his balance: they all watched with bated breath as the metal head finally lost his footing and fell down into the chasm. For a split second, they couldn't hear anything except his echoing cries.

Then, finally, Praxis snarled, "Retreat!"

They all turned and ran, heading for the transports. Ionna turned around to follow them, but her vision spun. Her knees buckled and she crashed to the ground, struggling to stand back up.

"Ionna!" Damas turned around to help her, but someone else was faster. Their hands hooked under her arms and hauled her to her feet like a child.

Confused, she looked up to see Praxis' stern face above her. He slung her over his shoulder, causing her to yelp in surprise, and started to run. There was a rush of light-headedness, forcing her to close her eyes or be violently ill. Every muscle in her body ached.

Praxis said nothing as they all made a mad dash into the transport. The remaining soldiers were following his orders to retreat, running ahead of them. Finally, Praxis' boots hit metal; she could hear the doors closing behind them, as someone banged on the wall of the driver's cab.

"Get us the hell out of here!" Ali shouted.

There was silence, except for the sound of them all breathing heavily. Then the engines started and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief. As they took off, rising above the eco mine, they heard a distant screech of anger.

Praxis set Ionna down on the seat. She kept her eyes closed, hoping to push down the sickness that came with using too much eco; hadn't Onin warned her about this? Everything was spinning, almost terrifyingly so. Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it back.

Her attention was taken by something cold splashing over her face. Her eyes popped open. The bitter taste of paint dripped into her mouth as she spit and gasped. Above her, glaring down, was Praxis. He'd dumped a canister of water over her.

"Still alive," he grunted, then turned to sit down.

For a moment, her mind seemed to unfocus. But the cold shock had helped, since she was no longer light-headed. It gave her something to concentrate on that wasn't the exhaustion and pain and burnout.

Without even thinking, she rasped out, "Don't be disappointed, there's always next time."

Praxis snorted and smirked. Damas set another canister of water into her hand. "Here. Maybe you can let her actually drink this one, Praxis?"

Another shriek echoed through the mountains, but it sounded much too far away to matter. They had, evidently, managed to get out of range of the metal head leader. Ionna exhaled and took a gulp of water, letting the cold of it clear her throat.

The transport went quiet again, all the Guards wallowing in their exhaustion. Finally, Damas broke the silence with a wry, "You know, I don't think he liked me very much."

At first, everyone stared at him in astonishment. It was Antwon who started laughing first, a bubble that rose from his chest, before everyone else joined in. Infectious, delirious, tired-drunk laughter that filled the cabin and seemed to bond them together.