[IC] Amygdala Circuit

[Lemons]

A sigh of relief whooshed out of Quinn. Deelie wasn't upset with her after all. She shook away the memory, biting the inside of her cheek. Why had that come up?

She didn't really get what the girls were talking about most of the time—or, well, she knew the concepts, but not very much how they all fit together—but she thought she'd gotten enough of a gist to kind of know what was going on as she reached out and grabbed the juice pouch, fumbling with the straw until she could poke it through the top, just like she'd seen online.

If she thought the water was sweet, then this was...something else entirely. A different sweet from the cookies, too. It tasted a little bit like the fruit that her parents would sometimes bring her for a special treat, but not quite the same. Sweeter, fresher...could you call a drink crispy? She didn't know, but if you could, then that's what this was. It was crispy. Sweet and fresh and crispy and delicious. She'd never finished a drink so fast, squeezing the pouch because she just couldn't get it in her mouth fast enough. And before she knew it, she'd sucked the whole thing dry. “Oh my gosh! Dah—"

She paused, giving her a renewed smile. She was smiling so much today, it felt strange. But good! “—Deelie, that was so good! I've never tasted anything like it!”

They were talking about things she didn't know about again—what was a sim camp?—when Safie got up from beside her, picking up a long stick—oh, that was a fishing rod, right? Besca had mentioned fishing too, hadn't she? “Hey Quinn! You wanna try fishing? It’s super easy. You just reel back, and then when you flick forward you press this lil’ button here to release the line.”

She got up as well, careful to stay away from the gap in the railings where she and Safie had been sitting a moment ago, and took the fishing rod carefully, looking at it with an inquisitive eye. She'd seen videos of people fishing, but never up close. She swallowed. So all she needed to do to cast was reel up the string, then flick it and press the button? That didn't sound so hard. So, with an unsteady hand and a grip that was all wrong, she slowly reeled it in until the bobber was right by the tip. Now I just—

She whipped it back, then forward, and pressed on the button.

The lure soared forward and almost out of sight, falling into the water after its brief flight with a satisfying plopping sound. She looked back and forth at the other rods propped up against the railing, putting hers with them, then turned back at Safie, face positively alight, before she darted over—she was finding her balance a little better, she thought—and took hold of the bottle of water again, sipping it with unrepentant joy and triumph. It was getting a little harder to see, and she couldn't quite tell how far away she was from the others, and she looked around with open and blatant wonderment. So this was what it was like to be outside at twilight. Right then and there, she decided:

Twilight was definitely her favorite.

[Mcmolly]

The sky stayed clear as the sun dipped behind the cliffs, and the mad palette of evening darkened to knight. The twilight colors sank beneath the waves, turned the surface a smooth, glassy black. In their place, the full moon glowed, its image tattooed upon the water in silver-white light.

Fishing had been an ordeal. Fine until Quinn’s line tugged, and they reeled it in to reveal that the hook was, in fact, not for show, and had pierced the fish’s mouth. She was…less than enthused, begging for help freeing the poor thing, which she got, before frantically throwing it back into the water.

After that they let her throw the lines out, but did the reeling in themselves. Dahlia sympathized—she tended to throw all of her catches back as well.

Eventually Daz was left to fish alone. Dahlia and Safie spread towels on the deck and laid out, setting a phone up against the bench to watch videos. They made space for Quinn. One of Lucis’s songs came on, and Safie stood up to dance, proudly stating how she’d helped him choreograph the whole thing. She offered to teach Quinn a few moves, but the girl’s natural clumsiness, combined with her lack of sea legs, made it more of an exercise in not falling overboard.

Distantly, the music from Hovvi’s shore quieted down.

“Oh! Oh! Bet the fireworks are about to start!” Safie said.

Dahlia set her phone away. “Dad! C’mon!”

Daz hummed. The line on his pole tugged, and he reeled it in slow.

Safie hopped up on the railing, looking back at Quinn. “Come on up! I’ll hold on to ya.” she said, patting the spot beside her. “Gosh this is gonna be so pretty! You only ever see fireworks in the cities these days, and it’s always so mucky.”

“It’s not so bad from the Aerie though,” Dahlia said. “If there’s no clouds you can still see’em. Colorful lil’ spots. It’s neat.”

“Well buckle up ‘cause you’re about to see way more than spots. I bet we’ll feel the booms from out here!”

Behind them, Daz finally pulled in his fish. A big thing, it came flailing out of the water, slapping against the hull with the force of a stone. As he made to pull it off the hook he suddenly hissed, yanked his hand back, and the fish went flopping onto the deck. It slid to Quinn’s feet, wet and absolutely hemorrhaging as if it had been pulled by a dozens different hooks. Though it was too dark to make out much detail, through the torn flesh and gouts of blood, the moonlight did catch something.

Poking out from its body were dozens of tiny, glinting bits of metal.

“Dad you okay—?”

A sound from Hovvi cut her off. Not the promised booms of fireworks, but rather, a low, electric whining. In moments it grew to a wail, and louder, and louder, beyond even what the music was. It filled the air, it reached across the lake.

Within the boat there came another sound: beeping, loud and sharp. Dahlia and Safie both pulled their phones from their pockets, eyes wide.

“Shore,” Safie said, almost too quietly to hear. Then, louder, back to Daz: “Shore! We gotta get back to shore!”

[Lemons]

It all happened so fast.

Right as she was about to clamber up next to Safie, a smile on her face still as she almost vibrated with excitement for the fireworks, she heard Daz hiss. Something flopped next to her feet, and she looked down.

As a puddle of blood began to touch her bare toes from the horribly mangled fish, she shrank away with a horrified squeak. She'd hated watching the hooks pulled out of the fish's mouths, but even she could tell this wasn't normal. There was a little bit of blood with the hooks, but it wasn't right to catch a fish full of knives, and it wasn't right for there to be this much.

She had barely pulled away with a frantic "Ohgodohgodohgodohgod—" when she was met with the ever-growing noise. Just a hum at first, but it grew, and grew, and grew, until it was almost loud enough to hurt her ears. So distracted was she with the sound that she jumped when the urgent, insistent beeping started from two points behind her. From Dahlia and Safie. And she was filled with a growing feeling of unease when Safie—whom she already thought of as bright and shiny as one of the stars in the sky—started talking very different than she had before.

“Shore.”
“Shore! We gotta get back to shore!”

The boat immediately roared back to life, surging towards Hovvi far faster than it had gone out. She sat on the deck, pressed up against the bench as wind grappled at her skin and she was and transfixed by that unsettled feeling. The girls' faces were nothing like they'd been until now.

Grim? Worried? Harried? She didn't know exactly what to call it, but whatever it was, it metamorphosed that disquiet into a nameless, faceless terror that dug its claws into her and felt like it might choke her as easily as the panic had, back in the community center.

"S—Safie...?" she ventured, small voice tremulous and filled with fear, "Wh—what's happening?"

The electric scream grew louder.

The boat smelled like blood.

She felt sick again.

[Mcmolly]

“What do you mean ‘flared’? How could this happen?”

Besca hunched over the inlaid monitor at the table, eyes glued to the readings as the energy-levels at the quarry began to spike. They’d tracked the singularity here, and by every account they ought to have had its emergent timeframe down to the minutes—how the hell were they off by several hours?

“I triple-checked the scans, they were bulletproof,” said one of the analysts, sounding just as baffled. “We had that blip a few hours ago, but it leveled out before you even got up here. Everything was stable until a minute ago!”

“Clearing fucking not! Two of our pilots aren’t anywhere near that checkpoint, how long do we have?”

“Five, maybe ten minutes?”

The doors to the monitoring room opened for a single uniformed man. He was older, black hair shorn short and streaked with gray. A thin beard hid the lines in his face, but did nothing to soften the cold blackness of his eyes. He strode to the round table, hard gaze fixed on the only person in the room, maybe the whole station, who wouldn’t wilt under it.

“Darroh, report.”

“There was a mistake,” she said, and glared the analyst quiet when he tried to protest. “Readings, hardware, we don’t know—doesn’t matter. We’re looking at five minutes ‘til this thing kicks off.”

He took the news like a wall took the impact of a baby bird. “Our pilots?”

“Ghaust and Abroix will be set. Calhan might make it in time, St. Senn won’t be up here ‘til it’s already opened. Once she’s back we can have her prepped in minutes in case she’s needed, but right now I’m worried about the barricade.”

“Ground forces are mobilized, they can cover for Calhan. Category?

Besca shook her head. “Slightly raised, but still within expected parameters. Enough room for the little guys, a few titan-class, maybe one Modir. All in all, could be worse. Won’t have the light for glamour shots, but this should still be a clean sweep.”

Barring an intensive psychological evaluation, it would have been impossible to tell whether or not her answers satisfied him. In the end he made a gruff sound, nodded, and left the room again.

Besca whirled back around to the table, brought up a view of the quarry, and several smaller screens monitoring the town. Her eyes jumped from one to another, until she spotted a boat tearing its way towards the shore.

“Ghaust, Lucis,” she said, speaking into an earpiece. “Where are you?”

Lucis’s voice came back, “About to slot in. This really happening, Doc? Bit of a surprise, not like you to be so sloppy~”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s the Casobani word for asshole?”

“I believe it’s something like, Darroux.”

“Where are Calhan and St. Senn?” Ghaust’s voice was hard, gravely.

“Safie’s on her way. Dahlia will be prepped up here soon in case things go south.”

“Oh Darroux, Lucis hummed. “Have a little more faith.”

---

---

They moved. Fast. Dahlia braced against the railing as the boat jolted against the waves. Safie managed to stay upright, and almost instinctively, she took hold of Quinn. Her serious expression melted when she met Quinn’s eyes, and she sat down to be level with her.

“Hey—hey it’s okay,” she said, tender voice somehow reaching her through the ripping water and blaring alarm. “That thing Deelie and I came to do, looks like it’s just happening a little sooner than we thought. They’re warning everyone, that’s all.”

“We should pull in closer to the barricade!” Dahlia called.

“The elevator is farther, we need to get you up first! Look! Lou and Ghaust are already set!”

She pointed to the distance, towards the quarry, where floodlights lit the massive forms of Grauritter and Magnifique. From so far away they looked like thin statues, but suddenly they moved, taking unburdened steps away from the checkpoint. The last giant, Jubilee remained behind.

Dahlia seemed worried, but nodded. Safie turned her attention back to Quinn, putting on another warm smile. “Sorry we won’t get to do the fireworks tonight, but hey! We’re gonna put on an even cooler show for you, how about that? You get to watch me kick some serious butt—and Lucis and Ghaust will help, too, but they’re not as cool.”

As they drew closer to shore, the alarm began to wane. By the time they reached the docks, the whole town was nearly silent—at least until the sounds of rushing vehicles and the clamor of crowds picked up again.

“Alright! Wish me luck!” Safie tousled Quinn’s hair, gave her a wink. “Watch for the one with the big, glow-y chains, that’s me.”

With the same grace as she’d had on the boat, she leapt the railing onto the dock, and broke into a sprint, vanishing into the still-crowded streets.

Dahlia took her place, patting Quinn on the shoulder. She smiled, but she didn’t have Safie’s unshakable optimism behind it. “Hey, if you’d feel safer, you could stay with my dad. I trust him as much as I trust Besca. I-I mean, everything’s gonna be fine, you know, but all I’m saying is…uh…even if it’s not, he won’t let anything happen to you. N-not that it will. Gosh, I’m bad at this, I’m sorry.”

She pulled a pen from her pocket, gently took Quinn’s hand, and scribbled some numbers on her palm. “Here’s our phones. I really liked meeting you! When this is all done, we should, like, keep in touch. I miss talking to people from home.”

Daz came over and pulled Dahlia into a hug that she returned even stronger. He whispered something to her, and she nodded. With a last wave to Quinn, she took off down the docks, towards the elevator’s platform.

Suddenly it was just the two of them.

“Like she said,” Daz rumbled. He stood beside her, a veritable mountain in man’s form. “You’re welcome to stay with me. We can head back out to the water if you feel safer there, or we can stay in the town. I’d offer to take you home, but I think it’s best we don’t stray that far ‘til this is over.”

[Lemons]

Quinn felt a lot of things right now.

But she mostly just felt numb.

Safie departed, leaping and bounding like a cat into the nighttime crowds.

Then Dahlia came over to her, stumbling over her words just like Quinn did before she took out a pen and wrote phone numbers on her hand. One for her, and one for Safie. Quinn just stared at the numbers as she left too. She'd never be able to call them, but she still wanted to keep them. She didn't get it.

Then Daz spoke up. And just like Dahlia had said, he was going to let her stay with her. They could go into town, or go back out on the water, or—

"Uhmm," she said, sitting down again with a thump, staring blankly off into the distance where she saw the two Saviors headed. "I think I...do you mind...can we just sit here?" Her voice sounded almost hollow, vacant, like her body was talking but she wasn't really behind the wheel anymore.

The giants were barely visible through the gloom now. Safie was going to be joining them. Was Deelie going too? What had they come here to do? Something big and important, she thought. Saviors fought something, she knew that, but whenever she'd tried to look it up at home, she'd come up empty and didn't know why.

At the thought of home—and Daz's mention of it earlier—the spell on her was suddenly broken. She let her head loll forward, and her voice dropped to a choked whisper, almost inaudible over the commotion. "I just want to sit here. I don't feel so good." Indeed, her stomach was doing the thing again, but worse this time. It felt like something was hissing and bubbling and evaporating inside her. Like something was being burned and eaten away.

It still didn't hurt, not really. But it made her feel sick. She'd only thrown up once, when she was only eleven and had snuck out of her room. It didn't feel anything like this. It had really, really hurt. But she thought she might do it again anyway.

She looked back down at her hand. The numbers were still there. She still didn't have a phone. She didn't know how long it would be until her parents would be home, but once they did, they'd take the numbers away, she knew it. She dropped her head down between her knees, staring at the wooden decking. She knew they would be okay. Safie was so sure, and Deelie—well, she'd sounded less sure, but still sure.

So why did she still feel like something terrible was about to happen?

"I think I might be sick."

[Mcmolly]

Daz sat down beside her, and the boat shifted to accommodate. He offered a bottle of water, and with his foot slid a towel over the pooling blood at their feet.

“Into the water, the fish won’t mind. Little sips, after, if you do, he said. “It’s a strange thing, putting your life in someone else’s hands. Trusting so much that they’ll protect you. I’ve been on either side of that window. It’s fear both ways; fear that they’ll fail you, fear that you’ll fail them. With Dahlia I feel both—I think she does, too.”

He took a pouch from the cooler, melonberry. The straw was like a thread in his fingers, but he popped it into place and brought it to his lips. It was empty in a single gulp. He looked to her, level, unjudging.

“Why haven’t you left home, before?”

---

---

Silence blanketed the quarry. A great crater, miles of stone mined out into a gray field that soaked in the moonlight but wouldn’t shine. Even as the Saviors approached, the sound of their colossal steps went unchallenged, and when they came to a stop there was silence again.

A flurry of drones followed them, dozens of Aerie’s eyes and ears.

Grauritter stood at the west end, Magnifique to the east. Behind them, the outer barricade and artillery line would cleave through anything that came between them.

“Easy, boys,” Besca said. “It’s here.”

The station couldn’t have known for sure, they were rarely so accurate to the moment. But Besca had a sense; even a thousand miles away the hairs on the back of her neck bristled when she felt danger coming to her pilots.

And sure enough, it was here.

A low, distorted hum rose, as if from the rock itself. The air crackled faintly, charged, and charging. There was brief static in the comms, but contingencies snuffed it. It was all so clear, here, as it always was.

Grauritter raised his arm, as if to pull something from his back. Magnifique’s hands twitched, and he faced his palms to the ground.

The humming grew louder, the crackling turned thunderous. Far away the air folded on itself, shimmered, made refractions of its surroundings in odd, senseless patterns that, as the moments dragged, began to find their sense. They curved, curled, like someone bending a metal bar into a circle, and with each invisible exertion the stone beneath it cracked. Eventually its dimensions became clear, like the rim of a mirror, and its face was a perfect, dark reflection.

At once the buzzing dimmed, the thunder calmed. There, untouched by the moonlight was a black mirror half submerged in the stone, as tall as the Saviors and several times as wide.

For many moments there was silence again.

Then the mirror shattered, and behind it was a void darker than the gaps between stars.

Shapes spilled forth, so numerous it seemed like a flood of brackish water. They were terrible things as pitch as ink, and as lifeless. None measured taller than the Saviors’ own ankles, but none who had faced these tides before would dare underestimate them.

Grauritter closed his fist. Black light sprang from the seams of his gauntlets, and as he drew his arm up, a hilt appeared in his grasp. Atom by atom, as if drawn from the night air itself, a sword appeared, the blade nearly as long as he was tall. He swung it around into both hands, and the edges burst to life with flames like white neon.

Beside him, Magnifique closed his hands in, and in that motion, pulled from the air a pair of rings, like chakrams. He twirled them around on his fingers, and when he snapped his grip shut, their rims glowed to life as well.

The barricade opened fire. Volleys of ballistics, explosives, laser-fire, all rained down upon the roaring masses. The air was sprayed with ichor and black flesh, but from the smoke and flames, the horde came furious and hungry.

The Saviors charged.

---

---

The initial panic had subsided quickly. RISC forces had secured the roads and soon enough, people saw the hundreds of armed soldiers and tanks and backup artillery, and decided they were likely safe still. The music stayed dead, the clamor hardly rose above a mild, incessant chatter.

Crowds began to move towards the boardwalk, to the screens, all of which now showed the dark footage from the quarry. Beneath the waves of trepidation and worry, there began to rise a current of excitement. This was the spectacle they had come to celebrate, the heroes they had come to cheer on, and the enemy they had come to see vanquished.

On the far side of town, the space elevator sent Dahlia up, and she prayed Besca was right, and that she wouldn’t come down again until morning.

[Lemons]

Quinn's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before she found her voice, still queasy, still doing her best not to hurl. She stared at Daz, blinking owlishly.

"Is it...really that weird?"

But from what she'd seen in town—little kids getting under people's feet, the crush of the crowd, the strange looks from Besca and Deelie and Safie at the things she said sometimes—she already knew the answer to that question. She averted her eye from Daz's huge, gentle form, closing it and still concentrating on her stomach.

"...Mom and Dad said I shouldn't." Even as she said it, she felt silly, like it was the wrong answer. She clenched her eye tighter. No. NO. She was—

She remembered what Besca said. Deep breaths. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Calm down. Her voice was still in that barest, quavering whisper, but she could at least...she could at least talk. "They said it was dangerous and going out would hurt me." She reached a trembling hand up to gently cover over her eyepatch. "Make me sick. That's how I lost my eye. I went into the living room and looked outside, and then it burst and they had to take it out. Then they stuck me with all kind of needles and drew blood out of me. I think they were punishing me."

She opened her eye, looked at Daz, and hiccupped, halfway between a burgeoning sob and her stomach's twisting. "So I didn't leave after that. Not until today."

She opened her mouth to say something else—maybe about how they left her door open, so she could get out for a day—but as soon as she did, she knew she wouldn't be able to finish. She sucked in one more shuddering breath, then threw her head over the railing. Her stomach gave one more clench. Then before she knew it, a tide of horrible acid-tasting muck streamed forth from her. She closed her eye again. She didn't want to see it. As she hung her head over the side and heaved, it went into her nose, and she felt tears starting to well up as acid burned up there too.

It stopped, and she panted, trying to catch her breath, before it came again. And it just kept coming.

Minutes later, it finally stopped. Her whole body was shaking as she did her best to blow the vile stuff out of her nose, spat whatever was left of it in her mouth into the water too, and slumped back down on the bench before she finally opened her now tear-stained eye. She fumbled on the bench until she found the water bottle. Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't help but listen to Daz. Little sips were all that felt like they would settle.

Finally, her ragged voice came again. Torn up by acid and bile, but a little louder, a little stronger. She reached out her arms, wrapping them around Daz's own huge one. "Don't tell Deelie or Safie." Then, more quietly again, "Please."

[Mcmolly]

Daz said nothing when Quinn’s body turned against her, but when she held herself over the railing, she’d feel a steadying hand on her back, holding her braid out of the way.

As she emptied her stomach into the water, it seemed to blacken beyond nightly sheen, as though she’d thrown up ink into a bowl of water. With her eye squeezed shut she couldn’t see it spread, couldn’t see the vile taint inside her stain the good waters of the lake.

But she could feel it.

That burning in her gut, in her throat and nose, it ran deeper. While her muscles clenched, her breathing hitched, and her tongue curled at the taste, so too did her blood boil, did a pinprick burn seer itself into the back of her skull and the front of her mind. In that moment the pain was everything to her; it was touch, and taste, and smell, but it was also heard.

Quinnlash

Quinnlash

Quinnlash

Quinnlash

Quinnlash

Foggy through the acidic haze, but there. There in her ears, further back in her mind, there. That pain that had been with her in her home, in her room, in every waking moment that ooze that she felt in her bones even in her teeth itching and burning it was heard there in the water below her Quinnlash not a stain but a dye you are dyed Quinnlash you are dyed with pain and it was heard I am heard Quinnlash heard and felt and I am there in the smell of the water in the salt in your wounds and the sobbing in your ears and when your eye burst from your skull and our blood touched you Quinnlash in that blackness I AM SEEN

QUINN

LASH

RUN

---

---

“I won’t.”

Daz’s other arm closed around her. Fingers stroked her hair. These were slow and tenuous moments, but Daz was an anchor in the storm. When he leaned back there was certainty in him, and even cut with shadows he held the warmth of a fire.

In the distance, the sounds of battle, the flashes of fire and ghostly light. Daz sat between her and all that.

“But I made a promise to my daughter that I would protect you, and I intend to keep it,” he said. “Seeing you taken away again, locked in a room to have those…things, done to you. Living your life as an innocent prisoner.” he shook his head firmly. “That would be failure. That would be pain you don’t deserve. Quinnlash, I think you should stay with me until tomorrow, and then I think you should ta_{lk to Besca. I think…I think perhaps this pla ce is hurtin g you m ore}

It became harder to hear him. Slowly, but surely, it became harder. It became harder because she was still dyed with my blood. Still dyed, Quinnlash, and you sit here and you ignore me but you know it you feel it something is wrong something is happening and it’s happening now and you need to RUN. YOU NEED TO RUN.

RUN QUINNLASHRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRURNURNRURNURNRUNRURNRURNRUNRURNRURNRURNRUNRURNRURNRUN

---

---

“Quinnlash.”

Daz’s hands on her shoulders. Cold night air. Ghosts of a burning in her throat, acid on her tongue, and the smell of iron in her nose. Blood, but not her blood. The fish. The fish still there on the deck, shorn open by its own deformities. The metal jutting from its corpse vibrating so fast they were blurs in the air. Twitching. Splitting.

Growing.

A plop from the water. Not in, but out. Up. Floating towards the hull, another fish staining the black water with blood from its torn body. Another, further out. Plop. Another. Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop—until there were dozens and dozens of dead buoys popping to the surface, all ashine with moonlit glint.

---

---

“This doesn’t make any sense…” Besca muttered, eye narrowed on the energy reading. “We’re seeing spikes but…guys, are you sure nothing else has come out but the swarms? We’re peaking the parameters but there ought to be a modir by now.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you! There’s nothing yet!” Lucis said.

The inky creatures kept coming, crashing harmlessly against the Saviors’ feet, pulverized by heel and blade and what managed to slip by them was annihilated by the barricade.

“Wait,” Ghaust said. Grauritter came tensed, clutched his sword. “No, you’re right. It’s here.”

And as he spoke, a figure emerged from the singularity. A giant, like them; a mottled black and steel colossus with a sheered maw and gangly limbs. It moved with more grace than the creatures, with intent, with a mind. It stood at the threshold, and the Saviors noticed then that it was not a bare thing, but clad in a dark, tattered mesh of metal that almost resembled a cloak. It was shorn across, and only ran long enough on one side to cover a single arm.

The other it held aloft, fist closed, and as it lowered there sprung from its fist a black light. When its arm came perpendicular to them, it was wielding a sword only just smaller than Grauritter’s. Its crossguard was sharp and the fuller in the blade was alight with white fire.

“Glad it finally decided to show up. Now mulch it and lets call this a night—”

“Doctor Darroh!”

Besca didn’t need to look away to see what the analyst was trying to show her—she saw it herself. When the modir emerged, the singularity’s levels ought to have plummeted. In truth, they had, but the readings from the Hovvi area in general hadn’t. The singularity was dying, but Besca realized in a moment of dread, that it didn’t matter.

There was another one.

---

---

There were new sounds on the boardwalk, not from the speakers, or from the crowd, but from below. Not waves, not the plop plop ploping of dead fish. No, it was more like…skittering. Like feet on hollow wood. Scraping, clawing.

People began to notice, mumbling, looking down at their feet only to find the blackness of dirt and water below. But some looked outward, to the reflection of the moon at the center of the lake, once utterly crisp and pristine.

Now it was boiling.

They burst up from the wood, bouquets of pitch that did not splash or break but pierced and sheared. Blood and screams spray the air in equal measure as the crowd lurched away, broke. More of the things exploded out from the water, shadows that leapt and dashed and fell upon anyone slower than the person in front of them.

The smattering of soldiers close enough to open fire did so, but as the creatures swarmed the docks and the lights came crashing down it was impossible to tell innocent from hungry.

So they didn’t try.

---

---

The distant screams reached them before the water began to bubble.

“Out of the boat,” Daz said, paradoxically urgent and calm. He stepped onto the dock, squinted into the distance.

It looked like waves crashing onto the boardwalk, only they moved and leapt and never seemed to end. Blessedly, they didn’t seem to be emerging this far down. Yet.

The alarm began to blare.

Daz turned north. “We have to get to the elevator. Quickly. Stay close, stay low. Can you do that?”

[Lemons]

She twitched. Her eye. Her feet. Her fingers.

Something was screaming behind her eyes. Something was screaming at her screaming IN her to

run. Run. Run run Quinnlash runrun run runrun runrunrunrunrun rrunrurunrnurunrnurruquinnlashrunrUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRURNURNURNRUN

She could...barely make out what Daz was saying. Her eye twitched again. Her teeth chattered. Hard.

Elevator. Stay with. Daz. She nodded, head spinning. She tried to get up. She failed. Tried again. This time, she managed to crawl out of the boat, where she nearly climbed up Daz to stand.

Run run runrunrunquinnlashrunurnnnnn

She swayed, but stayed upright this time, mumbling out nearly incoherently, "Run Daz we need to run run run run we need to run right now run Quinnlash run run run run..."

She cut herself off. Breathe in. Breathe out. Close. Low. She shook her head. She felt like there was something inside of it. Something different. Something else. Shook it again. It cleared. Barely. But enough for her to stand on her own, and nod a twitching nod as her voice lost some of its feverish energy. "Stay close. Stay low."

Only then did her eye start to focus, her ears started to listen to the world again—runrunquinnlashrunurnnnnnyouneedtorunrunrun—and she saw what was happening on the boardwalk. She had to put forth soooo much focusss to keep her head straight run. It was already being bombarded from inside. Now all this too. She only just barely held back a scream.

She followed him as much as she could. She really did. She even made it a little way. But it wasn't long before she once again felt that screaming voice that was both her and inside of her and outside of her and not her and part of her and not screaming screaming RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN

She couldn't run. She couldn't. She needed to stay low, and stay close. But it was just so loud in her head. She fell behind, gasping like she'd run five marathons back to back. Besca. Besca was up there. She needed to...to...

She was falling.

She fell for a long time.

Into black.

Like ink.

Then she could see again. She was on her hands and knees. She tried to move. She couldn't. If she moved if she let herself move then the voice it was so strong it was filling her up it would take her and she would run and run and run and run and run and run and run and run—

The place where she had an eye once pulsed and pounded with pain. She let out a weak cry. She couldn't run she couldn't run she couldn't run SHE COULD NOT RUN.

So, every single muscle in her body clenched like nothing she'd ever felt, it hurt it hurt a lot—she scraped herself off the ground. She stayed as low as she could. And she took one. Step. After. Another.

Whatever happened. Whatever happened. Besca was waiting for her. Besca was up there and Daz was taking her to see her she would know how to fix this—

She cut off the runaway train of her thoughts with a supreme force of will. Whatever happened. She COULD. NOT. RUNRUNRUNRURNURNURNRURN— She couldn't runnnnnnnnnn. No matter. What.

[Mcmolly]

“Breach! Breach! There’s a second singularity in the lake! Besca screamed over the comms. “Ghaust, Lucis, one of you—”

“We’re a…little…preoccupied!” Lucis grunted, and even through cockpit’s insulation Besca could hear the sounds of impact. A glance to the monitor gave him credence as well.

Despite being outnumbered, the modir was on the offensive. It parried Grauritter’s strikes, and in the same move, deflected Magnifique’s chakrams, sending the ring’s flying off before they zipped back to the Savior’s hands. The giants’ speed made them harsh blurs in the darkness, illuminated dimly by moonlight, and starkly in bright flashes of their clashing weapons.

God, it was so rare for these monsters to fight with expertise—why now?

But of course now. The modir weren’t mindless animals. They weren’t fighting a virus, they were fighting creatures as violent as they were intelligent. Sending a skilled soldier to keep them preoccupied, hiding a smaller singularity in the rising levels of the first—these weren’t just brazen assaults, these were tactical decisions. Besca couldn’t remember the last time the modir had employed tactics.

Only, yes, she could. Westwel. Her throat tightened, she flagged the elevator.

“Clear the platform for transport vehicles and send it back down now!

“Ma’am,” one of the technicians came back, “St. Senn only just arrived, it’ll take her at least five minutes for prep, and another five to load.”

“We don’t have ten minutes, we need to start evacuating! Send her down on the next pass.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Safie, status?”

There was static for a moment, then the popping of gunfire. “They got in behind the second barricade! Lift went down, I’m—” More gunshots, and the rare, frustrated grunt from Safie. “Scaling manually! Two or three minutes!”

“As soon as you’re in, head for the tertiary barricade at the platform. Cover the evac.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Besca clutched the table, eye jumping wildly from screen to screen. The dark was crippling, but through infrared it was clear how quickly things were falling apart. In the back of her mind she saw Manedun collapse, saw the harbor burning as the ships sank into the bay. She saw the giants in the dark, standing over the corpse of Westwel.

“B-Besca…”

Dahlia’s voice was so thin and quiet she hardly heard it.

“What’s…what’s going on?”

She didn’t know what to say.

---

---

With the only remaining foe from the first barricade being the modir swordsman, the primary and secondary barricades fell back into the town in time for the second wave of creatures to spew from the lake. There was no time to set up new defenses, no time to relocate artillery. Orders had come down to start shepherding civilians towards the elevator as quickly as possible.

They moved in misshapen phalanxes, firing blindly into the dark wherever the overhead drones couldn’t light. Suddenly, Hovvi didn’t feel nearly as small anymore. Every bloody inch of road seemed to take so much longer to cross.

Even for Quinn, already halfway there, the elevator might as well have been on the other side of the world.

They passed through park, darkened by small copse. Across the street, dark, rabid shapes chased after the sounds of screams and gunfire. Behind them, rogue things emerged from the marina and scurried ravenously deeper into town.

Daz brought her into the shadows. He looked around vigilantly, hunched, but it was hard for someone his size to really hide. His hands took her by the shoulders, still as gentle as ever, and he stared at her through her mumbling, waiting, listening.

“Quinnlash,” he said in the lull. “You’re doing well. A little farther, do you see those lights? There, just out of town. We’re getting closer.” He took one of her hands, squeezed it gently. “I won’t leave you behind. Quinnlash, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

With that he led them out of the park to the road, just in time for a large, armored transport to blow past them. He held his hand out for the next one, only to suddenly pull back as it drew closer. Not a transport, a truck, and when its headlights flashed off there was fire blazing from the cabin. It swerved sharply offroad, plowing through copse with a deafening metal crunch.

Something leapt from the wreckage. It was perhaps the size of a large dog, with many more limbs that curled like hooks. The firelight hardly touched it, the only feature was void. It made a stuttered, clicking sound.

Then it skittered towards them.

“Move,” Daz hissed. Together they bolted across the road, through the broken glass doors of a blacked-out department store.

They stepped over a dead man.

Daz brought her to one of the aisles and knelt low. A clattering at the entrance, staccato echoes as something moved further in. Clicking. Hunting sounds.

Very slowly, he crept forward, pointing to the distant sign that read: EXIT. The floor was slick with spilled liquids, broken containers. He did his best to brush glass and sharp plastics out of the way for her.

It wasn’t until they were halfway down the aisle that he realized the clicking had stopped. He turned to her urgently.

The aisle lurched and fell on top of him. Daz grunted to hold it up but it was too sudden, and in the next moment he was pinned beneath it.

The creature was perched on top. Its mass of legs splayed, its bulbous body lowered like a cat about to pounce. It had no eyes, but Quinn could feel its hunger as clear as any gaze, directed right at her. It clicked, and from its belly an array of mandibles twitched eagerly.

QUINNLASH “Quinnlash!”

QUINNLASH

[Lemons]

QUINNLASH

QUINNLASH

"Quinnlash!"

QUINN LASH

Eye wide, twitching and scared and streaming with tears, Quinnlash stared at the ink-black thing that she could feel looking at her it had no eyes but she still felt it it was looking it was hungry.

She wanted to move so badly she wanted to runRUN QUINNLASH RUN but she couldn't.

She couldn't.

She felt it looking at her.

She felt its claws clicking clicking on the shelf that Daz was under

She felt its hunger and—and—and—

She felt another hunger it was looking at her but it was looking at the thing too it was it was it was inside her I was inside her inside looking out looking in looking out looking—

She couldn't.

She was frozen frozen frozen, her head was full of noise she was afraid and she couldn't move and she—

She stared. She stared with her one gazing glaring hungry eye she stared I stared

Daz said something but she couldn't hear through the cottony noise in her head. She kept staring. A faint catch of her voice leaked from her throat, the faintest catch of her HER voice not the voice her voice hervoice her own voice and she—

She stared.

She I saw.

She SHE felt.

Her HER mouth opened.

And she SHE sheSHE I screamed.

[Mcmolly]

“Ghaust, this isn’t working.”

“Be quiet.”

Across from them the Modir stood still and calm, sword held out to its side, cloak fluttering heavily. It seemed perfectly content to stay here until the sun came up.

“We need a new plan. If we don’t kill this thing soon there’s not gonna be much of a town left to protect.”

Ghaust grumbled, and outwardly, Grautritter let out a low growl. He shifted his stance, turned sideface and brought his blade up to his chest. The Modir cocked its head, and then, bizarrely, it mimicked him.

“Wait for the opening,” Lucis said. Magnifique started to circle, slowly, and Grauritter did the same the other way. The Modir didn’t move from the center. “Ready…Now!”

Magnifique reeled back and hurled one of his chakrams out. It spun, a whirl of white light, on a perfect path for the Modir’s neck. Grauritter bolted forward. The Modir swung its blade up in a wide arc, slapping the ring aside just as Grauritter lunged.

His blade pierced the Modir’s cloak, but before he could cut it free, it brought the back of its fist to his cheek. The Savior stumbled aside, but years of experience wouldn’t see him grounded from a single strike. He found his footing, twirled his blade around and took the lower haft with one hand, bringing it up just in time to block the strike meant to cleave him in two.

The Modir pressed, the teeth of its flayed mouth grated together. Grauritter let go with one hand, letting the blades sink into his shoulder, and grabbed the beast by its collar. Suddenly it lurched as a chakram buried itself into its side. Maginfique came dashing, other ring flying back to his hand. He struck for the neck again.

With a ferocious growl, the Modir swung its arm around, the one hand on its sword more than enough to keep Grauritter pinned, and slapped Magnifique’s hand aside, then wrapped its arm around his. It let go of Grauritter entirely, letting him hang off the cloak.

In a windmill arc, it brought its blade down and severed Magnifique’s arm at the shoulder.

There was a choked, gasping noise in the comms.

Then Lucis screamed bloody agony. Magnifique’s maw opened wide and let out a broken, quaking wail.

---

---

Quinn’s scream filled the store, and across the aisles there came the response of other hungry, skittering sounds. With competition coming, the creature before her shuddered, twitched. It leapt at her, razor-limbs poised to skewer her through, mandibles slavering.

Daz roared, and though he was still pinned, he managed to shove the display up enough to throw the thing off. It flailed past her, managing a shallow slice across her shoulder, but little else. Its momentum saw it skid out of the aisle, into the moonlight of the entrance, where it scrambled back up to its many feet.

The air cracked, a muzzle-flashed, and it popped like an ink balloon.

A soldier stood at the doorway, rifled aimed downrange at the other aisles. The skittering noises changed course in an instant, towards him.

“Quinnlash, Daz rumbled. He’d shifted onto his hands and knees, and was slowly lifting the display up on his back. “The exit…go! Outside, go! I’m right behind you!”

The soldier opened fire, strafing further in. He must not have seen the two of them—or maybe he just didn’t care—because bullets began to ping off the walls nearby. Dust and drywall sprayed her face, metal clattered at her feet.

“Now! Run!”

[Lemons]

"Quinnlash, the exit...go! Outside, go! I'm right behind you!"

She blinked. Blinked. She heard the words, but there were so many sounds, so many sounds, so many sounds so many sounds so many so many—

"Now! Run!"

RUN QUINNLASH! RUN QUINNLASH RUN RUN! RUNRUNRUNYOUNEEDTORUNNOWNOWNOWRUN

The world was falling apart around her. Metal and dust and glass, smash smash smash. Her eye focused again. Her other eye—no there wasn't an eye there—stopped hurting. Run. Run. RUN.

She ran.

Clicking chittering sounds came from all around her and the pinging of bullets turned into a firestorm. More and more thi ng s around her turned into a clinging black goo that splattered across the ceiling and walls. She twitched again. It smelled like—it smelled like—it smelled—it was familiar somehow but she didn't know what it was she just didn't she didn't know but it smelled

She kept RUNning RUN

She slammed through the exit door, setting the alarm a-ringing as she careened into the night. All around her, the world had turned into chaos. Soldiers shot. People ran. HUNGRY black things clicked and hissed and jumped and died and kept coming coming coming coming coming for her for her ignore everything else ignore it all it isn't important was Daz there no no no ignore it keep running RUN QUINNLASH YOU NEED TO RUN NOW RUN RUN RUNRUNRUN

She kept running. She fixed her eye on the giant elevator shaft and kept run kept running, stumbling and fumbling past screaming blackness and screaming people and the bloom of fire and crack crack crack of gunshots. She kept running and running until she couldn't runrunRUNRUNRUN anymore, crumpling to her hands and knees again again against the side of a building, hacking and coughing. Her acid-burnt throat hurt more now, each breath she heaved in and out like sand poured through her mouth.

She put her hand against the smooth brick wall, staggering to her feet and looking up at the elevator again. How close was it now?

It seemed like it had barely gotten any closer. She stared at it with cloying dismay. She would never get there. Never. Never. But still, she kept going, hobbling along the wall, each step a knife to her neck. She had to. She had to get there she needed to Besca would protect her she would she would she lwould shewould shewoudll keep hersafesafe safe safsafes afesss fese safef sfae safffeafe—

[Mcmolly]

A deep, groaning sound undercut the mayhem, like something deep within the earth had shifted. The sharp reports of gunfire followed her out of the building, and screaming—Daz? The soldiers?—but it all faded behind her as she ran. Armored transports screeched by her, covered with the black creatures all scratching and clawing at the metal to get inside. An artillery shell impacted an office a block away, turned it into a fountain of brick and fire that rained down on the civilians fleeing ahead of her.

The road was rain-wet but the sky was clear, and the water was red and stuck to her feet and stung all the little cuts that crawled up her ankles. No, the elevator wasn’t close, and it did feel like no matter how fast or how far she ran it would never get any closer but that didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, Quinnlash. You have to keep running. Our blood our pain the more you spill the more I see you see me

A great swelling in the boiling lake, a gout of steam as scalding water burst up and fell upon Hovvi like rain. In the mist and dark something struck up at the moon; a pillar, an umbral spire that—no. Not a structure, a thing. It twitched, and its steeple split and curled and when it came slamming down onto the docks, burying into the stone and earth below, another just like it rose up.

They were hands.

It pulled itself from the lake, steam wafting from its lean body. The Modir came to a hunched stand over the town. Its jagged mouth opened, a low groan dripped from its throat. In the pitch sockets on its face, red eyes glowed to life, pure and bestial.

Artillery burst against its chest, its shoulders. Bullets pelted its legs and pinged off the modium scutes running down its arms. It didn’t care, it didn’t even seem to notice. It just reached up towards the moon, long fingers splayed like it might just snatch it out of the sky. Instead it closed its fist on a twisted clump of air. Black light leaked from between its fingers, distorted the space around it into odd, nigh-invisible shapes and refractions.

Suddenly it yanked down, and a massive shape exploded into being. It crashed onto the town, crushing an entire span of streets and houses to nothing. Despite the weapon’s immense size, the creature hefted it up with hardly any effort. A hammer of some kind, or a club or—

Its maw grew hot. Grew bright.

A cannon.

With a deafening, titanic CRACK a blast of fire turned the artillery and the block around it into a searing crater.

The Modir groaned again. Its bloody eyes swept across Hovvi and come to rest, briefly, upon the elevator.

And then they turned down.

To you.

It sees you, Quinnlash.

---

---

Magnifique lay on the quarry floor, grasping the stump of its shoulder. Over the comms, Lucis’s screams were so raw Besca thought his throat might have torn. He wasn’t responding, she wasn’t even sure he could hear her anymore. Eventually his voice dried out into a ragged whimper.

Ghaust had the Modir locked. The former Helburken knight moved with every ounce of the ferocious grace that had earned him his place as a pilot. His sword was a blur of white light, striking and feinting and striking again.

The Modir matched him to every measure. It was like fighting a mirror; wherever Grauritter moved, it stepped opposite, wherever he swung, it blocked. They could have stayed there, trading blows and parries for hours, but something was changing. Slowly, but surely.

It was stronger. It was faster. Ghaust could feel it, could feel himself dragging on his blocks, it wasn’t just getting faster, he was getting tired. Damn his phasing speed, so slow, never a matter before with a team to buy time or step in.

He needed minutes. He got seconds.

The Modir stepped in, slid its blade down Grauritter’s and hooked their guards. With a vicious twist, it wrenched the sword from his grasp and flung it away. To his credit, Grauritter didn’t balk, didn’t miss a beat—he swung wide with a hard fist, but it was too late. The Modir’s blade pierced his neck straight through. He grabbed at its shoulders, grasped for purchase on the hilt. It ripped out, nearly decapitating the Savior, and in a return swing it cleaved him in two at the middle.

Grauritter fell in pieces.

On Besca’s screen, Ghaust’s vital readings blipped out.

The Modir flicked its blade and turned to Magnifique. Lucis screamed over the comms once again, not in pain this time, but in terror. Like a panicked, wounded animal, the Savior pulled himself up just enough to scramble away. He tripped over his own feet, smashed through the barricade, and made a mad dash for Hovvi.

The Modir did not follow.

---

---

Run Quinnlash you have to run. It sees you. It wants you you have to run.

Teeth clacked in a vile rictus, the Modir raised its cannon. The maw grew bright, so bright that, for a moment, it was like she was standing under the afternoon sun again, following Besca to the marina.

QUINNLASH—

Something struck the cannon—no, latched around it. At first it looked like a massive length of rope, but as it grew hot with white light, it was easier to see. Chains. The cannon’s mouth was yanked away, and it spat fire uselessly into the cliffs.

The chains pulled taut, and another, massive shape flew at the Modir. Before it could raise the cannon again, a fist caught it on the head and sent it stumbling away, nearly back into the water.

Jubilee stood upright, holding another length of ghostly chain in its other hand, which it whipped around its wrist until it had made a white-hot gauntlet. The Modir roared, and the Savior roared right back at it.

In the distance, the elevator descended. Run, Quinnlash. It was still far, but if she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t make it in time for the first round of evacuation.

And there was no telling yet if there would be a second.

[Lemons]

The cannon loomed.

Quinnlash stared up at it, tripping, lurching, falling forward step by step. She tried to keep her eye on the elevator and keep running running it SEES you Quinnlash you need to runrunrun but it blazed like fire and sunlight and she reached up to shield her eye as she kept runningRUNNING QUINNLASH RUN IT'S HUNTING IT'S HUNTING YOU QUINNLASH RUN

There was no running she couldn't RUN there she couldn't runnnnnnnn. She'd heard the sound of the cannon, she'd seen the stream of annihilation pouring from it as it blazed and flashed against the bottom of the clouds and turned the sky into hellfire. She was nothing in front of it but still it was hunting her and she was running Quinnlash run it KNOWS YOU! But there was no running. The light was blinding. She knew she knew she KNEW she was about to die.

Then there was a FL A SHHH H———

The cannon was hurled away. She almost couldn't see for a second, afterimages of the burning light in her vision as a Savior with big glow-y chains—

Watch for the one with the big, glow-y chains, that’s me.

It was Safie.

Oh no no no no no it was Safie she couldn't be here she wasn't RUNNING QUINNLASH YOU NEED TO she was going to be hurt but run RUN it's still looking for she can't hold it it's going to HUNT you HUNT you you need to RUN RUN RUNRUN

She kept running. The elevator shaft blinked with bright cherry light that came closer to the ground every second. She needed to run or else she wouldn't make it and it would find her and Besca was up there and she would keep her safe she would protect her she would know what to do why there was so much noise in her head why she needed to run RUN RUN!!!!

The titans clashed above her. Her legs felt like they would give out any second. Her vision felt like it was closing in. Her throat felt like it was bleeding and there was a strange taste leaking down it and she didn't know why any of this was happening or what she was doing here why she couldn't stop the voice.

The elevator couldn't be far now. It couldn't. It just couldn't. It couldn't it couldn't it couldn't.

She kept running.

[Mcmolly]

“Besca what’s happening! W-why did Ghaust’s feed just cut out! Besca! I’m in, I’m ready l-let me go down!”

Besca squeezed her eye shut, teeth grit together so hard she thought they might crack. When she opened them again she tried not to look at Hadrian’s grayed-out signal. She tried to focus on the screens, on the carnage turning Hovvi to rubble.

“Besca!”

“The elevator is down there!” Besca snapped, harsher than she meant. “Stand by until it’s back up!”

“People are dying down there! Let me drop! We practiced I—I’ve done it before, let me drop!”

“You’re not primed, just…just wait for the lift and you’ll be phased by the time you get down there—”

“No, I’m connecting now. If the elevator isn’t up by the time I’m phased, I’m dropping.”

Besca’s heart skipped, she scrolled to the hangar’s feed and watched as Dahlia vanished behind Dragon’s head. “Dammit—no! Dahlia—”

The comm cut, Dahlia had deafened herself. Besca swapped over to transport.

“Send it up! Send it up now we’re deploying Dragon!”

---

---

The world was a dark blur to her, but as she ran she’d hear the sounds change. The screaming—at least the pained screaming—grew distant, was overshadowed by the rolling of vehicles, and the panic of a meager crowd.

When she looked around she’d find herself at the foot of the elevator’s anchor. The platform had landed. Behind her was the tertiary barricade, manned by a skeleton crew compared to what had been at the first and second. They fired into the dark; by now all they could do was avoid the roads and hope they were only hitting the creatures.

Aside from her, there were only a few dozen other civilians—at least on foot. That was all. She’d run so long and so far and only this many people had made it. Armored transports climbed a ramp onto the platform, but even those altogether couldn’t have added up to more than one or two hundred.

“Hey! Kid!” A soldier shouted, running over to her. “Come on, we’re lifting in one minute, you need to get on!”

He took her by the shoulder, started leading her up the ramp, but something was wrong still. Something in her twisted—her blood, it was her blood, like it was spinning in her veins, making a whirlpool out of her. It had screamed at her to run to get here to get up and safe to Aerie to Besca but now…now what? Now what did it want? Why did that feeling from the boat come crawling back, the panic, not hers but thrust upon her. Alien.

RUN it had said but now it didn’t. Now it said something else. Said it in that way that wasn’t words, but the breath between words, the intent. It was foggy, distant, until she finally got onto the platform.

GET OFF

QUINNLASH GET OFF

“What the fuck?”

Those words were real, and from the soldier. He let her go, staring off into the dark town.

Jubilee had the Modir bound, had one chain wrapped around its neck, burning through flesh and steel but slow. It thrashed, but she was quick, sturdy. She kicked out its legs, locked its arm to its chest with her other chain. She pulled, she burned. The cannon lay discarded.

Behind them another shape emerged from the night. Another giant, but one of its arms was gone. It sprinted through the town in a maddened panic, heedless to the buildings, to the creatures or the people that it crushed underfoot on its way. It kicked over transports, its footsteps left hollows in the ground that crumbled and brought buildings down in its wake.

It was Magnifique, and he was coming straight for the elevator.

[Lemons]

Quinnlash wanted to cry, but she didn't have the tears.

She wanted to talk, but she didn't have the words.

She wanted to scream, but she didn't have the breath.

All she could do as the giant bore down on her out of the darkness was stare.

quinnlash

Her limbs were locked again.

Quinnlash

Her legs ached. Her feet hurt so much. Everything hurt.

QUINNLASH GET

She was so tired. So tired. She wanted to just lie down and rest lie down and fall—

QUINNLASH!!!! GET!!!! OFF!!!!

She nearly fell when she took a step. The thoom, thoom, thoom of the Savior racing closer pounded in her ears like the thump, thump, thump of her heartbeat.

The soldier cried out to her, but she couldn't hear him clearly, not over the thoom and the thump and the noise that filled up her head with a sound like static. All she knew was that she had to run again, get off, get away and she knew it in her blood she knew it in her bones she knew it in her whole body she needed to leave leave leave leave get out of this place the elevator there wasn't safety it wasn't safe she would DIE she knew it

So she dragged herself—half upright, half awake, half alive—away from the nice soldier at the anchor and the thudding certainty in all of her that something was wrong. She was almost insensate and her face had gone as white as the watching moon as everything in her S C R E A A M E E D at her to get away. She didn't know why or why or why or why but she just knew she needed to needed needed needed she needed to GET AWAY QUINNLASH LEAVE LEAVE LEAVE

Her heart pounded in her ears, thump thump thump

The noise pounded in her head, leave leave leave

The footsteps pounded on the road, thoom thoom thoom THOOM THOOM THOOM THOOM THOOM—

Then there was a sound like a hurricane and a thundercrack as the giant slammed against the superstructure, ripping aside trucks and transports and people too with all the care of a child playing with blocks. She stumbled back as the whole world quaked around her. For just a moment, the voice was silent.

Her throat was absolutely ruined. Almost nothing could come out of it. The sky was falling. Her breath wouldn't come. Words wouldn't come. Who would hear her scream? What could she talk to? Nothing. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing nothingnothingnothingnothingnothing.

So she didn't try.

All Quinnlash could do was curl up, close her eye, and cry.

[Mcmolly]

“Lucis—!”

“Get the fuck out of the way!”

Magnifique slammed through Jubilee and the Modir, throwing them apart in a bloom of dust and debris. He hardly saw them, practically forgot anyone else was there. He crashed through the tertiary barricade, scattering what was left of RISC’s defenses, and stomped onto the platform, crushing or kicking off anything in his way.

“Lucis!” Besca yelled. “Lucis stop!”

“Send it up! Send it up now!” he shrieked. “I’ll mulch every last fucking person on here send it up get me out!”

“It’s going! It’s—send it up! It’s going!”

Sure enough, the platform hissed and rumbled, and began to rise. Magnifique dropped to his hand and knees, panting heavy breaths of steam. The Savior let out low, keening noises, shuddering like he was made of leaves.

Below, the Modir was the first to its feet, and with its newfound freedom it snatched up its cannon. Red eyes trained on the rising lift, black ichor seeped from its mouth. Fixated. It had seen something there, something that needed to die.

It raised the cannon, the maw brightened.

A burning chain wrapped around the barrel, but this time it was ready. When it pulled taut, when it yanked, the Modir swung with it and brought the cannon around. It fired.

A gout of flame blew through Jubilee’s chest.

The Savior staggered back, chains falling from her hands. The Modir lunged out, dug long, sharp fingers into her neck and dragged her in close. Then it ripped her head from her shoulders.

There was a brief cry over the comms. Besca gripped the table as Safie’s vitals blinked out.

“Safie?!" Dahlia shrieked—when had she undeafened? Oh god. “Was that Safie? Where’d she go? She’s not on comms! Besca what happened to Safie! Besca!”

---

---

The elevator continued to rise. She’d been left behind, and with every passing moment it seemed like there’d be no time left for it to come back. The voice, that itch—had it lied to her? Had it wanted this? Wanted her here, abandoned? Alone.

But you were never alone. I’m here.

“I’m here.”

Great arms wrapped around her. Daz. He hoisted her up like she were feathers in a silk bag, and suddenly they were moving. He took her past the anchor, towards the open field.

“Don’t look,” he rumbled. “Don’t look.”

Something wet touched her, or rather, she touched something wet. It was Daz. It was like he’d just come out of the lake, he was absolutely soaking. Sticky. He smelled like the boat. Like the fish still lying there on the deck.

Behind them the Modir left Jubilee’s corpse and raised its cannon once more. The maw grew bright, quickened, and with no more obstacles left it shot free and clear. The blast of fire soared across the night sky, left a smoke scar across the face of the moon.

It struck the platform full-on. Flames burst from within the cherry-light cage and it flickered out, sending a hundred tons of burning metal debris in free-fall towards the lake.

“Don’t look, Quinnlash.” Daz said, though even he paused. In the scant light there was horror in his eyes, even if it didn’t twist his face. He watched the fiery comets with tragic awe.

Then he noticed one falling oddly, arcing differently from the others. In fact, it hadn’t come from the explosion at all. It had come from above, far above.

From Aerie.

Daz held Quinn tight. The smell of iron grew stronger. He marched further into the fields.

[Lemons]

The voice was finally quiet. Quinn could hear herself think.

But she wished she couldn't.

The elevator was burning. The lake was burning. The town was burning. Everything was burning.

Safie's Savior was burning.

As the cataclysm behind her fell away, she couldn't do what Daz said. The scene held her gaze, fires reflected in her wide, glazed eye.

At some point she'd found her voice, and she slowly became aware she was gibbering, more scratch than voice. "Is Safie—Safie isn't—where's—is she—she's—tell me she's—" The headless wreck of Jubilee was still visible over the wreckage of Hovvi.

Her voice broke, air hissing out with no rhyme or reason. She couldn't talk anymore. Her throat hurt. Her legs hurt. Her feet hurt. Her head hurt. Her tummy hurt. It all hurt.

As she watched, something streaked towards Hovvi—what used to be Hovvi—from above. She couldn't tell. Her vision had gone blurry, and darkness was creeping around the edges. She couldn't watch anymore. But she could still smell. The boat. The spreading pool. The lake's water. Smoke, dust, burning. Her water, bitter and cloying and awful and cruel.

She couldn't talk anymore. But that didn't mean there were no sounds she could make.

She buried her head in the crook of Daz's neck and wailed. Over. And over. And over.

The darkness swallowed her. She could tell, even without seeing.

At some point, the wails stopped.

So did she.

[Mcmolly]

He brought them far, to the edge of the field, to the haybales. Daz carried her silently, only held her while she cried until she couldn’t anymore. Until she was still. There was nothing else to do, nothing kind he could tell her that wouldn’t be a lie. He hadn’t been asked to lie to her, he’d been asked to protect her.

The smell of iron was strong, the taste was stronger.

The pain was getting to him. He set her down against the hay, sat down next to her, and knew right then that he wouldn’t be able to get up again. God, he reeked of ichor; why did the little bastards have to die so messy? Not that he was one to talk.

A hand went to his side, to the pit there. He could hardly stand to touch it anymore, and he didn’t need to see it.

Instead, he looked to distant Hovvi, and sorrow welled within him. In the dark it was so hard to tell it from home. So many years spent seeing Westwul burn in his dreams, and now he got to see it burn one last time with his eyes open. He found it hurt just the same.

Dragon had landed, he saw her rise from the lake. Daz would never have called these monstrosities beautiful, but there was a terrible majesty to Dahlia’s savior, something haunting in the finality of her coming. With everything that had happened, he knew now that she was here, it was over. He prayed she wouldn’t see her own failure in this, the death of her second home, but a part of him knew she would.

The window went both ways.

Daz groaned, laid his head back against the hay. Through cracked, tired eyes he looked over at Quinn, and with a bloody hand he stroked the hair from her face. A smile tugged at him, and he didn’t have the strength left to fight it. In a way, it was funny. All those years ago, making Besca swear to protect Dahlia. Now here he was, protecting a girl she’d brought to him.

Shutting his eyes and breathing his last, Mendas St. Senn died a man of his word.