It's me, your local fandom maniac, come to abuse the flashback trope. Happy reading!
The paint was silky smooth on her fingers, the familiar scent bringing back old memories of the Mountain Temple and Haven Forest. A different time, a different life.
The movements to paint the markings on her face came to her automatically, even after all these years. When she finished, Ionna leaned back from the mirror to admire her handiwork.
Her hair was tied and pinned back, her old armor dull in the torchlight. She looked every bit the monk she no longer was.
She did it because she didn't think he would recognize her otherwise. Praxis had never known Ionna as anything but a monk. And she wanted him to recognize her.
If the visions were correct—and why wouldn't they be?—then Mar was in Haven City. Ionna didn't know where he was, why he'd been taken, or who had him now, but…
She knew where to start.
"I wish you wouldn't do this," a voice said from behind her.
"...I wish I didn't have to, Damas." She could see him in the reflection behind her, haggard and gripping the doorframe for support. "You should be resting. For Precursor's sake, Damas, you punctured a lung, what are you even doing walking around?"
"Spargus is in chaos right now," Damas said, though she didn't know if that was a response or if he was just talking past her. "There's talk of launching an attack on Haven to find Mar. I can't quell that from a sick bed."
There was something heartening about how the people rallied around them. Wastelander children were beloved by their adults, and the fact that someone had snuck in and attacked their king to take one of their children sent shockwaves through the city.
"Antwon and Sig are perfectly capable of running the city. You need to rest." She turned around and held her arms up. "Well? What do you think?"
"You look like a monk." Damas winced as he leaned forward. "...You shouldn't go."
It was strange: all these years later, and he still sometimes sounded like the young man who'd led his men into a massacre. He could hide behind his strength, but everyone had their fears.
"I need you here," he continued. "Spargus needs you to be here. We can send Sig into the city to look for him, but we need you—"
"Damas." Her voice cut across him easily. "What, exactly, can I do in Spargus? Comfort people? Heal them?"
"Don't you feel any kind of responsibility for the city we built?" Damas asked sharply. "Like it or not, you're an integral part of Spargus, the light eco sage. We can't lose one of our most powerful leaders right now."
"Don't you feel any responsibility for Mar?" A low blow, she knew, for a man who'd nearly died protecting their son. He froze, stricken, and she winced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."
"It's fine," he said curtly. "I simply…wanted to remind you of your position."
"My position? May I remind you, I'm not the light eco sage." She put her hands on her hips and frowned at him. "I'm not one of Spargus' leaders. I am Mar's mother, and my responsibility is to him. You have to watch over Spargus, I understand that, but I…don't."
They went quiet as Ionna picked up her leather pack. There were little clay jars of light eco attached to it, easily able to be broken if she needed. As she slung her old rifle across her back, Damas asked, "Do you even know where he is?"
"The last vision I had was in the slums, I think." She adjusted her armor a bit, making sure it was tight enough. "But there's something strange going on…he keeps moving places. I'll see him out in the streets, then I'll see him in a prison cell, then he'll be back out again."
"Intriguing." Damas didn't actually sound intrigued, but then again, he'd mostly sounded tired since Mar's kidnapping. "But that only furthers my belief that Praxis doesn't have him."
They'd discussed it right after the incident, while Damas lay in the infirmary bed and Ionna rushed around caring for him. Damas firmly believed that, considering Praxis had gone to great lengths to banish the heir of Mar, he'd be a fool to bring another one back to Haven. Ionna pointed out that Praxis had not been known for his intellect.
In the end, of course, it didn't really matter. They had nowhere else to start, no other clues to his whereabouts. Praxis was square one.
Ionna gently guided him out of the doorway, her hand on his elbow. "You need to be resting. You're of no good to anyone if you collapse."
"Safe journey," he told her as she let go of him. "And if you need anything…"
"I have my beacon," she assured him. "If you need me, send Sig to the Mountain Temple. But don't send him unless you truly need me," she warned. "I have no intention of leaving there without our son. I will not be happy if you call me back unnecessarily."
She walked away then, leaving Damas behind her. She had always preached the nature of choice, and here she was, making one.
But she was Mar's mother. Damas was the king and Mar's father, and he would always have to balance the choices he made between the two roles.
She did not.
It would change the two of them, she thought as she walked through the city. Just like it had once changed her and Seem. Her decision to leave Damas here alone, to choose their son over their city, would put cracks and fractures and space between the two of them.
She shoved her thoughts away, not willing to think too hard about that right now. She needed to focus.
Ionna knew her way to Haven City. She'd seen the catacombs, gone through the tunnels, she knew where all of the secrets of the city lie. So she made her way up through the eco mines and into the city she had long since abandoned.
Haven City didn't look much different from her youth, but the city had definitely changed. There was a weird listlessness in the air, almost dystopian. She stopped by a glowing speaker and listened.
Praxis' voice hadn't changed, either: still had a hard edge and bossy tone. He was rambling on about productivity and quotas, but most of the people seemed to tune it out. Background noise, she supposed.
She continued through the city, beating the path she knew to the Temple. She got the occasional strange looks, though she wasn't surprised: were there even any monks in Haven City anymore? No wonder they were skirting around her like this.
By the time she made it to the old Temple, night had fallen. There was an airlock there now, instead of the Precursor arches that usually framed the entrance to the forest. She realized, quickly, why that was: the Temple wasn't as empty as she expected.
The metal heads that had made their home there were not happy to see Ionna, and she was even less so. A few quick shots and they were gone, but it was still disturbing to her. This Temple had one of the strongest layers of protection in Haven City. To see it overrun with metal heads was a shock to her system.
She made her way down into the old Atrium, where there had once been pipes of eco flowing. They were dry now, the vents capped off, the air around her stale and old. She sighed and sat down to consider her plan.
Sneaking into the palace would be easy for her. She had plenty of light eco at her disposal, and with her powers, getting in was no issue. No, the true problem was what to do once she got there.
If Praxis did have Mar, then he wasn't likely to give him up easily. She'd have to interrogate him to get a clue as to her son's whereabouts. If Praxis didn't have Mar, then she was left without a next move.
Ionna sat down with a sigh. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, trying to will another vision into her mind. No luck, however; pity that eco didn't work that way. Nothing came after a while, so she just laid back and tried to sleep.
Tried being the operative word. It was harder than it looked these days.
Ionna stayed up most of the night after her call with Ashelin, watching over Jak's bedside. Daxter held out for a while, but he eventually curled up on Jak's chest and fell asleep. Seem left to head for the Temple, with Damas' gratitude following her out the door. When they were the only two left awake, Damas turned to Ionna.
"So." Damas had sharp eyes, and an even sharper mind. He pulled a chair up to her side and leaned forward, keeping his voice low. "I saw you step out earlier. Who called him?"
Ionna's lips quirked up. "I suppose I can't hide much from you," she remarked. "Ashelin Praxis. Begging for his help, once again."
Damas' expression soured. "Ah. I should have known. And I assume you had a few words with her?"
"And I'll be having a few more." Ionna leaned back and sighed. "I asked to meet her tomorrow morning. I want to hear why, exactly, they're so desperate for Jak to return."
"Sig says it's getting bad there," Damas told her. "They need someone to clean up the mess."
Ionna shook her head, her eyes on Jak. "There's something else, Damas, something that just…seems off. Why Jak? They were so quick to discard him, but call him back immediately? Why?"
A question that had run through Damas' mind. "I don't know," he admitted. Jak shifted in his sleep and the king automatically patted his arm to sooth the boy. "My understanding is that Haven most definitely relied on Jak for their dirtiest work. Perhaps there is no one else to do it."
"Hmm." Ionna didn't look convinced. She stood up and got another dose of the sedative. "Will you be here in the morning?"
"I can be." There was a lot to do around the city right now: they'd have to assess damages, make sure the walls were intact, search the skies for more Dark Makers. But no one would be put off by Damas working in the infirmary for a few hours; in times like this, you go where you were needed.
"Good. I'll give him another dose before I leave in the morning, and he'll need one around noon." She injected it into Jak's bicep and gently wrapped a bandage over the injection site. "If he starts to get restless, it means it's wearing off."
"Right. I'll take care of him." Damas stood up. He hesitated, then settled his hand on her back. She raised an eyebrow at him as he leaned down to murmur in her ear. "Give her hell for me."
While Ionna laughed and Daxter jerked in his sleep, Damas headed out the door, the bell chiming behind him.
High above Haven City, perched on a swaying cable that led to the palace, Ionna felt homesick.
The grungy city air clung to her skin and invaded her lungs, making her feel dirty and sick. Even all the way up here, where the air was thinner and less polluted, she could still smell how rotten it was. Far off in the distance, she could see open plumes of the eco mines, billowing up into the sky. A haze of smog floated over the rooftops below, blocking out the sun's rays.
Had it been this bad when she was younger? Or had Praxis' reign really done so much damage here?
Ionna shook the thoughts out of her head. Rain had started to fall, cold and light against her skin, and the wind was picking up. If this turned into a storm, she was looking at having to dodge lightning as she ran across this cable.
Praxis was, as expected, a cautious and almost paranoid man: there were numerous traps along the cable to the palace, clearly there to keep people from entering from the roof. Ionna considered just flying over to the roof itself, but decided against it. She needed to be stealthy, for her arrival to be a surprise, and she couldn't risk the light giving her away.
She deftly leapt across gaps and traps, avoiding electrified panels and gun fire. Whisps of her hair floated around her ears as she made her way across to the roof.
Ionna crept onto the roof, careful not to make too much noise. She glanced down through a window, spotting the throne room below. And there, sitting on the throne and staring out the windows, was Praxis himself.
She debated what to do: how guarded was the palace? Could she sneak in quickly and get to Praxis without having to fight a horde of Krimzon Guards? Or would it be easier to wait and watch his movements, hoping to catch him when he wasn't guarded? In the end, Ionna decided she'd had enough subtlety for the day.
She didn't usually use her rifle. It was one of Damas' older ones, a bit janky and outdated, but overall a good gun. It had its purpose, and though she preferred hand-to-hand combat, it came in handy every once in a while.
Like now.
She pulled it over her shoulder and aimed down. Praxis hadn't noticed her hovering above him, though he would in a moment. She took a deep breath and tapped the glass window with her boot. Praxis jerked his head up, squinting at her in confusion.
She shot the window.
The glass shattered, and Ionna leapt downward. She landed in the throne room in a shower of glass, the shards glittering around her. She straightened to look him in the eye.
"You!" It had been worth it just to see Praxis' face. He looked like he'd bit his own tongue. But Ionna didn't have time to relish in it.
"It's me." She walked forward, slowly, cautiously, the shards crunching beneath her feet. She didn't use her eco, not yet. "It's been a long time, Praxis. How are you enjoying the throne you stole?"
"You mean earned," he sneered. His eyes flickered to the doorway across from them. "I fought for this throne, I sacrificed for this throne! This city needs a real leader, not some childish fool!"
"I like you better with half a face." Ionna tilted her chin up and continued walking forward. Praxis shifted slightly, anticipating her move. "It's an improvement, quite frankly."
Praxis made a growl and pulled out his sword. She clapped her hands once, and the world seemed to freeze.
Three hits was all it took. Three hits, powered by red eco: one at the wrist to disarm him, one in the knees to bring him down, one in the back for good measure.
Praxis snarled at her, but she didn't care. He was on his knees, his sword now in her hand, one arm pinned behind his back and the other forced to hold him up off the floor. "Where is he?" she asked quietly, keeping the eco at her fingertips. She kept the sword pointed down in her other hand. Not a mercy, but a symbol: she didn't need a weapon to kill.
"Go to hell!"
She felt the power surge and watched his sneer turn to anger. "I said," she said louder, "where is he?"
Praxis made a strangled noise in his throat as she put pressure on his arm. Red eco swirled along her muscles, and she felt Praxis' shoulder tense. Bones bending, but not breaking. Not yet.
Praxis tried to jerk away, to escape her grasp, but Ionna held him in place. He laughed coldly as she stared down at him. "So," he scoffed, "you come into my city, you attack me, and you expect me to give you information? I suppose your time in the desert hasn't changed you!"
"And your time on the throne hasn't changed you." Praxis tried to wriggle his way out of her grip, but she shoved him down. "Still mistaking cruelty for strength. Don't think I didn't notice how your guards patrol the city, and your citizens hide in fear."
Praxis gave a low, growling chuckle. "Do you think your foolish hero would be fairing any better? I've protected this city! These people owe their very lives to me."
Ionna pressed down and there was a sharp pop. Praxis swore loudly, shouting the expletive with venom.
"That's your shoulder being dislocated." Ionna pressed harder and he growled in pain. "And if the next words out of your mouth aren't where my son is, I'm going to start breaking things."
Praxis stilled and his good eye met hers. There was shock there, and it was too genuine to be an act. In that moment, Ionna realized that Damas had been right.
Praxis didn't have him. He didn't even know Mar existed.
All at once, fatigue washed over Ionna. A flickering flame of hope snuffed out, and all that was left was emptiness. Her grip slackened, and Praxis took his chance.
He twisted around, aiming to slam his good arm into her midriff. She dodged him, sliding away quickly, but she let him free. He slapped his hand over his communicator and an alarm started to blare.
"So this is what it comes to." Praxis stood across from her, gripping his dislocated arm. "You finally return to the city you lost, all for nothing."
Ionna didn't even bother listening to him. Still in a daze, feeling as if a blanket had fallen over her. Separating her from the world. Praxis continued talking.
"And a child! To think, there was someone out in the desert who…would…" Praxis sucked in a breath of air, the realization hitting him. "That son of a bitch survived. And has been busy, it seems."
Ionna barely noticed his words. She unfurled her wings and started to leave through the hole she'd blasted in the window. Praxis shouted at her, boots of soldiers came from below, and she felt a bullet or two whiz by her, but she didn't care anymore.
Mar was not here. There was no reason for her to be, either.
Ashelin did not sleep at all that night.
To begin with, ever since her spat with Torn, she hadn't been sleeping well. She lied to herself and said it was stress, but a part of her knew it was guilt. It didn't help that, thanks to her mess, she'd also lost contact with Tess and Jinx.
Now, she was dealing with a confrontation with Ionna. Part of her debated just not doing it—after all, Ionna didn't have any power over her! Who the hell was she to demand things of Ashelin?—but that part quickly deflated. She wouldn't put it past Ionna to just track her down and show up at her apartment.
She'd given that beacon to Jak for a reason. She tossed and turned, trying to rationalize the thoughts in her head. She'd given him the seal back for the same reason.
Coward. Daxter's voice, sharp as a knife, rang through her head. Yeah, yeah, play these stupid little games with us. Hey, I got an idea: why don'tcha just tell us this shit?!
It's not that simple, she argued back.
Wow, it's not simple? Gee whiz, I didn't know that! Do ya hear that, Jak? Not simple! Who'da thunk it?
Is that why you didn't tell us?
Is that why you didn't tell Jak?
You know…that he had parents out here?
She rolled over and tried to go to sleep, telling herself it wasn't a big deal.
It didn't work.
The Mountain Temple, her father had always said, was an eyesore. It was a relic, a monument to times long past, to a world that put its faith in the Precursors and eco.
So why had he sent Ashelin to investigate it?
The platoon of KG behind her, a dozen men, all followed her lead as she reached the entrance. Her father had been acting weird ever since the break in a few days prior. Baron Praxis had survived a few attempts on his life, but he mostly brushed them off with his usual strength and bravado.
But this one…
This one had him rattled.
He'd started ordering KGs into the Wasteland, with orders to destroy anything or anyone they found. Though Ashelin had no idea what they'd even find. There was nothing out there but sand and metal heads.
He'd come to her that day, entering the barracks and sitting beside her cot.
"You are the only one I can trust," he'd told her, glancing around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Take troops and go to the Mountain Temple. Destroy every single thing you see, do you understand? Everything. Artifacts, pottery, people. Purge that damned place once and for all."
People? Sure, the occasional teenager went that way to smoke, drink, and play hooky, but that place was empty. It had been for years. Purge it of what, she wasn't sure, but if her father ordered it, he had his reasons.
They walked into the entrance of the Temple, an open area with various paths leading deeper in. She didn't expect to see any people. But there, sitting in the middle of the floor, was a woman.
She was pale, and it took a moment for Ashelin to realize she had some kind of makeup covering her face. Ashelin had no idea who she was or why she was here, but this was definitely who her father had sent her to find. She sat there, cross-legged and with her eyes closed, even as the KG stormed up to her.
"Get up. By the order of Commander Ashelin Praxis, you are hereby under arrest." Surely the Baron wouldn't be upset if she brought this woman in alive. After all, shouldn't they interrogate her? Find out who sent her?
The woman opened her eyes slowly. She stood up, dusting off her old-fashioned armor, and faced them. "...Cowardly to send his child to do his dirty work," she remarked. "Fine, then. Try to arrest me."
"We have authorization to use deadly force," Ashelin said, her voice commanding and firm. "Surrender or die."
The woman sighed and tilted her head. She stared at Ashelin for a moment, then said, "Well, if that's the case…"
The woman clapped her hands together, the noise loud as it echoed off the Temple walls. Light appeared at her hands, so bright that Ashelin could barely see. Before she could react, the woman threw the light at them.
The KG beside Ashelin took the full force of the blast, and though everyone else was knocked off their feet, the one who'd been hit had been practically obliterated. Ashelin didn't even see any remains when the light faded.
Not that she had much time to look for them, because the woman had disappeared in a flurry of light. Ashelin scrambled to her feet just in time to feel something rush past her, grab another of the KGs, and forcibly throw him over a balcony.
"Shoot her!" Ashelin bellowed, as the blurred outline of the woman went for another KG. She fumbled with her own gun and shot, but the bullets just seemed to ricochet off of her. Ashelin had to dodge her own shot coming back at her.
Who the fuck was this woman?
Another shot of light, and by now Ashelin had realized that this was eco being thrown around. She yanked one of the KGs out of the way before he got hit. "Avoid those blasts at all costs!" she shouted. "Surround her and we'll take her down!"
The woman was fast, faster than anything Ashelin had ever seen. Not even the metal heads that scurried around like bugs were this fast. The woman hit one of the guards with a kick to the midriff, sending him careening across the room and off the cliff. Ashelin swore as the woman grabbed hold of another guard and tossed him aside like a ragdoll, then shot another one with that powerful light. Two more men were bodily thrown over the balcony, into the abyss below.
"...Retreat!" Loathe as Ashelin was to call the order, she didn't have much choice. Her men had already been cut in half, and they hadn't even managed to encircle this woman. She didn't even want to think about what her father would say when he found out. "Get out of range of her attacks and regroup inside the city!"
Her men didn't hesitate. Ashelin went to follow after them, but she was cut off by a blinding light in front of her. She caught just a glimpse of the woman, who was now something closer to a creature. Her skin was entirely covered in a shimmering blueish light, and her eyes were frighteningly blank. Behind her back spread long tendrils that Ashelin vaguely thought might have been wings.
But she didn't have time to really think too hard about it. The woman seized her, one hand gripping her collar and the other her belt. Ashelin was bodily lifted a few feet, then slammed to the ground. Her ears rang as her head hit the floor, spots filling her vision.
"Once, many years ago, your father sent men to kill me in this very Temple. I killed them all. I will do so again if need be." The woman's voice was cold and cruel and detached from any emotion. "You will stay, Ashelin Praxis."
Fear bloomed in her chest. One of the Guards shouted for her.
"Commander!"
"G-go!" Ashelin choked out the order, trying to squirm out of the woman's grasp. She had her knee on Ashelin's chest, keeping her pinned to the ground. "Retreat and seal the doors!"
The woman paid no attention to the retreating Guards, only worried about Ashelin. When it was just the two of them, the woman finally let Ashelin up. She'd been disarmed, not that it mattered; no bullets had even touched the woman. Ashelin pulled herself up as much as possible, while the woman stepped back a few feet.
The glow of the light eco disappeared, spreading around her like fireflies. Ashelin swallowed and finally spoke. "What are you?"
"...I'm not surprised you don't remember me." The woman stared at Ashelin, as if evaluating her. "We only met a few times, and you were very young. You barely came up to my knees then."
"I think I'd remember something like…this," Ashelin bit back, gesturing to her. "Who the hell are you?"
"My name," the woman said quietly, "is Ionna. I worked with your father for several years, though I'm sure he'd much rather forget me."
Ashelin inhaled sharply. Even though the woman didn't look familiar, she knew that name. She'd heard it said in her childhood, sitting at her father's elbow, listening to him rant to his council. But…
"You died," Ashelin argued. "You were banished into the Wasteland."
"Did I?" Ionna asked serenely. "It seems rather odd that I don't remember that. And for the record," she added, "I was not banished. I chose to leave Haven City of my own volition. An important distinction."
Ashelin hesitated, then set her shoulders. "...Why did you attack my father?" she demanded. "What did he ever do to you?"
"I don't have much time to rehash old grievances," Ionna dismissed. "I thought your father had something of mine, but it turns out I was incorrect. As such, I have no desire to ever see him again."
Ionna took a few steps towards her; Ashelin resisted the urge to step back in tandem. "Do you remember King Damas?" Ionna asked suddenly.
Ashelin blinked, confused. "Of course I do." She'd met the old king often in her childhood. She didn't really remember his face, but she remembered a voice that morphed between stern and caring and back again. A crown, sitting lopsided on green hair, and a grin that was tilted and sardonic.
"Do you think he's dead, too?"
"I don't know," Ashelin admitted. "No one knows. He abandoned the city one day, just up and disappeared."
"Oh, is that the story he went with?" Ionna spat bitterly. "That Damas was a coward? I wish I could say I was surprised, but…"
"What are you talking about?" Ashelin put her hands on her hips, trying to project strength. She was the one doing the interrogating here, not Ionna. "What do you mean, story?"
Ionna watched her for a few seconds, then suddenly stepped very close. Ashelin automatically took a step back.
"I'll make you a deal, Ashelin Praxis." Ionna said her name like it was a curse, filled with venom. "I will let you go. But perhaps, with my gesture of goodwill, you can do some research into the history of your family."
"What?" Ashelin glared at her. "I'm not going to…find out information for you, if that's what you want."
Ionna smirked. "Not for me, child. For you. So that you can see the entire story, start to finish, and then make your judgments."
Ashelin opened her mouth to respond, but Ionna interrupted her. "I'll even give you a name to start with. Ali Noori. No doubt there are still some in the city who remember him."
Ashelin stared, confused, as Ionna handed her gun back. She took it and immediately aimed at Ionna, but the woman didn't seem a bit bothered. She even turned her back to Ashelin.
"If you're interested in the truth, in why your father is so scared of the mere mention of Damas' name, you'll go searching for answers. I'll be here when you find them."
She pressed her hand to the wall and, to Ashelin's surprise, the wall opened. Ionna walked through it, turning around to meet Ashelin's eyes as it started to shut.
The wall closed, leaving Ashelin alone in the temple, confused and lost.
