Legacy

Second story in the Sands of Time series.
by scribblemoose

Chapter 16

Kellon watched Tenta scampering over old iron girders with a mixture of disbelief and envy. Only Tenta Foley could make climbing up a derelict, rusty bit of metalwork look glamorous.

"Are you just gonna stand there or what?" Tenta yelled down at her. "I'm not going in on my own!"

Kellon gave the girders a doubtful look. This didn't look very safe at all. Not only was the structure precarious, but they'd already had to kill about a dozen jelleyes, and they'd barely started yet. But there was no going back. Not least because their hire car was out of petrol. If she'd warned Tenta once about carrying spare fuel, she'd warned her a thousand-

"Come the fuck on!" yelled Tenta. She was nearly at the top now, just a few feet away from the platform and the wrecked, twisted walkway beyond.

Most sane people try to break out of prison, Kellon told herself, as she began to climb.

At the end of the platform there was an elevator. The place had been powered down years ago - most of it was still buried in the sand, but the wind had exposed the Eastern portion. Fortunately it had also subsided, so once they'd made their way through the hatch in the elevator roof it was a walk, rather than a climb, that they faced.

Kellon was so busy being grateful for that fact that it took a while before she noticed that Tenta's mood had changed. That wasn't unusual of itself: Tenta could veer from excitement to irritability to sheer fury in about ten seconds. But this was different. She wasn't whining, she wasn't issuing orders and she wasn't squealing senselessly about how great she was.

She looked nervous. Scared, even.

"Don't suppose the jelleyes could get in here," Kellon said, studying Tenta's face carefully. "Should be pretty safe."

"Hn." Tenta's eyes darted around, as if she were expecting some monster to drop from the ceiling any second.

It grew steadily darker as they moved deeper into the capsized building. Kellon pulled a flashlight from her pack and switched it on.

"I'll be careful," she said, anticipating Tentra's criticism for losing the element of surprise. "I'll turn it off if I see anything, or if the emergency lights-"

"Leave it on," snapped Tenta.

"But-"

"Leave the light the fuck on." There was an undeniable thread of panic to her voice. Kellon swallowed hard. Tenta was usually the epitome of calm, cool arrogance. Kellon had never seen her like this way before.

"Light stays on," she said. "Check. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Tenta glared at her. "I don't like enclosed spaces, is all."

"You're claustrophobic?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So, you might have told me before we went GF hunting in an underground prison, that's all."

"Oh, great, rub it in, why don't you? Thanks for the sympathy, bitch!"

"There's no need for-"

Kellon stopped in her tracks. She had to grab Tenta's arm to stop her as well; Kellon couldn't fail to notice it was trembling.

"Let go!" Tenta hissed, trying to wrench her arm away.

"Stop it!" Kellon slowly cast the flashlight back and forth across the floor and walls. "I saw something move."

"Probably a desert rat."

"No, bigger than that. It looked more like a… sandworm?"

"Oh fuck," said Tenta.

"Well, it's only a sandworm, right? We're here for bigger things than that. Come on, we can take it!"

"Are you mad? It's a fucking-"

And then it was there, Kellon's field of vision filled with teeth, rows and rows of teeth, and an obscene cavern of a mouth full of yellow slime. Her whip cracked, Tenta screamed and the thing surged towards them.

"Tenta! Pull yourself togeth-"

She saw stars; stunned for a moment, she took a while to realise the thing had headbutted her. Thank Hyne it hadn't used its teeth.

Tenta was still frozen, a stupid rabbit-in-the-headlights look on her face. No help there. So Kellon did the only thing she could do: she raised her arm high and cracked her whip down on the thing as fast and hard as she could.

It let out a squeal that was more indignant than pained, but it recoiled just the same. Kellon pressed home the advantage by getting in another strike, and yelled to Tenta. "Come on, you stupid bitch, we've got to fight this thing!"

Tenta blinked, first at Kellon and then at the worm, which was already rearing up to strike again.

"Water!" yelled Kellon. "The water vials! Now!!"

At last Tenta came out of her trance, and while Kellon did her best to keep the thing busy with her whip, Tenta rummaged in her pack. She produced a clutch of small water bottles, uncorked them with her teeth and tossed them at the worm. Her skill with missile weapons paid off: every one of the bottles hit, breaking on impact and releasing fresh spring water, imbued with enough elemental magic to cause a minor flood. The sandworm screamed. Its skin fizzed and hissed and its long body writhed.

Kellon snapped her whip and this time there was no counter-attack. The worm fled.

Tenta, fired up now and hungry for victory, made to run after it, but Kellon stopped her. The last thing they needed now was for Tenta to plunge down some endless tunnel in miles of frenzied pursuit and then remember her claustrophobia.

"Later," Kellon said. "This way first. We've got GFs to hunt, remember?"

"I know that," snapped Tenta. She shoved the remaining bottles back in her pack, hitched it on her shoulder and stomped off down the main tunnel.

For the first two miles she hardly shook at all.

*

The days passed in something of a blur for Irvine. Partly because he was still healing, and while the borrowed strength from Shiva kept him going during the day, the crash each night rendered him comatose and sleep came quickly. But it wasn't simply that. Squall was a whirlwind of action and all the while he was awake, Irvine was busy. It wasn't that Squall insisted, exactly. It was more that he somehow expected Irvine to be constantly at his side, and Irvine couldn't really imagine being anywhere else.

Just like the old days.

One thing Squall did insist upon, though, was that Irvine should stay in Squall's quarters rather than go back to his own. For the first couple of nights this seemed to be doctor's orders - Dr Kadowaki had left her evil potions in Squall's care, with strict instructions as to where, and how, to administer them. But as Irvine recovered, and the need for Squall's ministrations declined, there was still no indication of Squall expecting him to leave.

On the fifth night, after Dr Kadowaki had called and pronounced Irvine as well as he was ever likely to be, considering his innate idiocy, Irvine sat on the comfortable white leather couch in Squall's living room rolling a joint, while Squall flipped the caps off a pair of beers. This was blossoming into a nightly ritual: retreat to Squall's rooms at midnight, get pleasantly wasted for an hour or so, playing cards or talking about guns until sleep came - for Irvine at least. It wasn't clear to him when Squall slept, except for a couple of rare occasions when he'd woken in Squall's bed to the thin light of dawn, and found Squall next to him on top of the covers, comatose and fully dressed. He'd watched him for a while then, until his own eyelids grew heavy and sleep reclaimed him. When he woke again a couple of hours later, Squall was in the kitchen, fixing breakfast.

"So, man," Irvine had said, that evening when Dr Kadowaki had pronounced him well. "Guess I'd better be moving back to my own room tomorrow."

"No," said Squall. "You'll stay here, where I can keep an eye on you."

And that, because Irvine knew far better than to argue with Squall's orders, was that.

*

Frila stood in drill line with eleven other SeeDs, and tuned out Corben's droning voice. The first day back from suspsension, and it felt more like she'd escaped from a leper colony. She'd always been a bit of a loner and the two years in Esthar with Sanke had disrupted any relationship she'd had with her peers. It didn't bother her. It wasn't as if anyone else would understand how her life was. She'd never minded being alone, not since she'd lost her brother. Besides, she had Sanke.

But this felt different. This wasn't slipping into the background, or being left alone because people felt awed or jealous or whatever. This felt more like being shunned.

Her eyes drifted towards Siefer, standing in his own line further down the yard, going through the same mindless drill. He looked as pissed off as she felt.

"Alfyrd!"

Frila jerked to attention, realising too late that Corben had stopped droning and given a direct order. Someone behind her sniggered.

"You're not a cadet any more, Alfyrd. Your life hangs on my orders."

"No, Sir. Sorry, Sir."

"Mysta."

The SeeD to Frila's left stood tall and saluted. "Sir!"

"Kindly stay behind after drill and explain to our new gunblader the nature and purpose of our mission."

Mysta made a little squeak of protest, but Corben silenced her with a single look. "I'm sure you don't want me to draw attention to the fact that you were seen in Balamb Town last week with Cadet Noltar, well after curfew."

Mysta blushed scarlet and stared at her feet.

"I thought not. Prepare to move out, formation A2, keep the line..."

Two hours later, drill was finally over. Frila dutifully stayed on the drill ground, despite a deep yearning for a hot shower, clean clothes and a gallon or so of ice cream. Mysta eyed her suspiciously. Much like everyone did, these days.

Frila sighed. "Let's get this over with. Want to sit on the grass, or what?"

"Okay. My legs are killing me," Mysta confessed. "Whoever invented that squat routine needs a firaga up the butt."

"Maybe they already had one," said Frila.

Mysta laughed, and Frila let herself smile back. They sprawled on the fresh green grass that edged the newly-surfaced drilling ground. At least here the sun warmed Frila's tired muscles, and a soft breeze cooled her skin.

"So, what did I miss?" Frila asked.

"Not much, really. Unknown enemy, must be ready for anything, human targets different from monsters, blah blah."

"Right."

"Oh, and a new schedule: drill out here every other day, alternating with training in the training centre. Tactics and strategy lectures every evening after dinner."

"Hyne."

Mysta pulled a face. "Yeah. Pretty grim."

Frila stared up at the impossibly blue sky, wondering when, in a schedule like that, she would get a chance to visit Sanke.

"You're kind of a celebrity around here," said Mysta. "I'm surprised you have to go through training and shit."

Frila shrugged, hoping she'd drop it, but Mysta missed the hint.

"Is it true you went out with Irvine Kinneas?" she asked.

"Hardly."

"Oh." She looked disappointed. "Not at all?"

"Not really."

"There were rumours that he got you pregnant and that's why you went to Esthar, and you had the kid genetically aged so he wouldn't find out."

She caught sight of the expression on Frila's face and added, quickly, "not that I believed it, of course. Amazing the bullshit that goes round."

"It isn't anyone's business, but that's the biggest pile of crap I ever heard. How would I have got pregnant? They took care of me like they do everyone else. Nice little shot every few months, zap."

"I think the, um, theory was that you were only fourteen and you hadn't started so you didn't need shots."

"Well, I had, and I did. And Irvine might be some things, but he's not a bloody paedophile. I'm nineteen next month. You do the maths."

"So you did sleep with him, then." Mysta's eyes gleamed wickedly, and Frila realised she'd fallen straight into a trap.

"It's private," she said, fervently wishing it had stayed that way.

"Sure. So what's he like? Is he as good as they say?"

"Fuck off."

"Sorry." Mysta plucked a handful of grass, only to scatter it back onto the lawn around her. "So what about that kid you hang out with?"

"Sanke's just a friend," Frila said. "I take care of her, that's all."

"Is it true she's possessed by a GF?"

Frila took a deep, long breath. "No. "

"But that TV news show..."

"You shouldn't believe everything you see on Galbadian TV," said Frila, coldly.

Mysta hesitated, sifting another handful of grass through her fingers, a frown creasing her forehead. "But everyone says-"

"Everyone talks bullshit," said Frila. "Let's get the record straight here. She's just a kid, she's sweet and kind and all alone in the world. Anyone wants to tell it different, do me a favour and send them straight to me, okay?"

Mysta flinched. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean anything, honest!"

Frila took a deep breath. "It's okay."

"How did you get to be her guardian? I mean, if it's not too personal?"

It was, but Frila found herself saying, "I knew her father. I promised I'd take care of her, when she died."

"What about her mother?"

"Long gone."

"Oh no. Poor thing."

"Yeah, well. She's not the only one. Any other rumours you want me to put straight for you or are you getting the idea?"

Mysta held up her hands in surrender and shook her head. "My bad. Sorry."

There was an awkward silence, and Frila flopped onto her back, one arm flung across her eyes to protect them from the sun. After a while, Mysta said, "um, I suppose I should go through what Corben said. You know. Properly."

Frila let out a long sigh, staring up at the sky. "Go ahead. I'm all ears."

*

Irvine followed Squall down the corridor, noticing the authority in Squall's every stride, every breath. He wondered if Squall had any idea of the effect he had on people, whether he even registered the respect with which they regarded him, or the speed with which they scurried out of the way.

In fact, Irvine couldn't be sure that Squall noticed people at all. His brow was furrowed and his gaze set intently on his goal: the big metal doors to the training centre.

There were cadets lined up in the vestibule area, smart and silent, eyes fixed ahead, waiting their turn to step inside and face the grats and t-rexes. Some of them looked terribly young. But Squall hadn't come to inspect his troops or massacre monsters. He took the small side door just inside the entrance that led to the rooms set aside for martial arts and weapons training. There, in a room off the gunblade training room, was Squall's new office. Access was highly restricted: admission required voice and retina scans. Inside there was no desk, no papers, no filing cabinets. Just a large oval table, a dozen chairs, a few data terminals and a huge plasma screen which covered almost all of one wall. It was tiny; Irvine was pretty sure it had once been a storage room.

Quistis and Laguna were there already. Laguna fiddled with a box of pencils while Quistis tapped at a keyboard with quite alarming speed.

"Update me," Squall said, shrugging out of his jacket. There were no windows and precious little ventilation: the room was hot and stuffy. Irvine shed his hat and duster, too.

"Hello Son," Laguna said. "Nice to see you, too."

Squall scowled at him.

"The training plan is nearly complete," Quistis said. "The GF matching is still proving a challenge, but-"

"What kind of challenge?" Squall interrupted. "I thought the Clearing Centre were supposed to be able to run optimal GF/SeeD match reports in a matter of minutes. It's been days. What's the problem?"

Quistis pushed her chair back from the keyboard and looked up at Squall. "There are some difficulties with some of the Guardians."

"Difficulties?"

"The Clearing Centre staff are unwilling to release many of the new Guardians for active service. They're exhibiting some unusual behaviour."

"Dangerous?"

"Could be. Nothing's happened yet, but the staff recommend caution."

"That's not unreasonable," Irvine added quickly, noticing Squall's clenched fists, his swift hiss of indrawn breath. "After... you know. Bane."

Quistis nodded. "It's why the Clearing Centre exists, after all."

Squall relaxed a little. "Okay. But why? Is it because of Ether?"

Irvine looked away, fixing his gaze firmly on Laguna's box of pencils. It was the first time Squall had acknowledged that Ether could be dead.

"I don't think so," Quistis said. "It's usually fairly easy to spot grieving behaviour. This is more random, a sort of unrest, rather than an expression of loss or hurt."

Laguna had moved around the table; he stood behind Irvine and casually but firmly squeezed his shoulder. "I'll drop by. Sanke might be able to help, or I could junction a couple, ask some questions."

"Is that wise?" asked Quistis. "If the staff don't think they're safe for SeeD to junction, what makes you so different?"

Laguna grinned his wide, easy grin. "Have a little faith, Quisty," he said. "I've picked up a trick or two over the years."

Quistis blushed scarlet. "I didn't mean...."

"I'll come with you," Squall said. "We can't go to war with a reserve of GF we can't even junction."

"Do you really think it'll come to that, Squall?" Quistis said.

"Yeah, Son," said Laguna. "War's a big word, y'know?"

"It's not my choice," Squall replied. "But it's going to happen. It's just a matter of when."

"Why?" said Quistis. "Surely even if Fargi wins the election, the worst he can do is have SeeD pull out of Galbadia."

"And leave the people there defenceless against the mosters."

"It's their election," said Quistis. "If that's what they choose..."

"Well," Laguna said, "you're assuming it's a fair election. Not necessarily the case."

Squall shrugged. "Even if he wins fair and square he won't stop at Galbadia. His sort never do. He'll try to wipe out SeeD all over the world. And when he does, I'll be ready."

Squall's eyes were cold and fearless, and met Quistis's gaze full on.

"I hope you're wrong," she said, quietly. "But I understand what you have to do, and I'll be at your side."

Which was a rather elegant way of putting it, Irvine thought. It echoed his own feelings exactly. Even if he didn't always understand Squall's reasons, there was no arguing with the man's instincts. He'd been right once too often for that.

"Good," Squall said. "Now. Let's watch the news."

He hit the remote and the plasma screen flickered to life, ready to deliver them everything on the election Deling broadcasting saw fit to share.

*

"Rin! Rinoa, look at this one!"

Rinoa eyed the yards of white netting and ribbon in Ness's arms, careful to keep an indulgent smile on her face. "Hmm," she said, blandly.

"I'm not sure about the bodice," Ness said. "I don't want to show too much cleaveage."

"Best not," Rinoa agreed, keeping to herself the opinion that considering the diminutive size of Ness's breasts, any cleavage at all would be a feat of modern underwear design. Ness shoved the dress at Rinoa, who replaced it on the rail with no little relief. "What about the ones over there with the embroidery?" she suggested. "There's some lovely ones with pearls around the neckline and beaded trains."

"Well... I'll see." Ness wandered off to take a look, and Rinoa took a moment to breathe and straighten the rail of dressses Ness had just plundered. It seemed that choosing the perfect wedding dress was going to be a challenging process, and there was no point in upsetting the shop staff any more than was inevitable with Ness in charge.

Selphie reappeared from her brief excursion to the veil department. She was sucking on a small, multicoloured lollipop which was turning her tongue a weird mixture of green and red. "Is it over yet?"

"No," said Rinoa. "I don't think she's even found anything worthy of the shortlist yet."

"Hyne. What's the big deal? It's only a dress. Zell would go all misty-eyed if she turned up in Estharian robes and a pair of trainers."

"Oh, Selphie, where's your sense of romance?"

"Left it in the training centre for the grats to feed on."

"I don't believe that for a minute."

"Well, seriously, Rin, what's any of this got to do with romance? It's not even about Zell, really. It's all about her and her enormous ego."

"He loves her, though! He really wants to marry her. When you think of what he's given up for her.... and she's not that bad, once you get to know her. Besides, weddings are supposed to be about the bride."

"Speaking of which, here she comes." Selphie shoved the lollipop back in her mouth and became suddenly engrossed in a huge, bouffant sleeve as Ness approached.

"Any luck?" asked Rinoa.

"No, not really. They're all very - what's the word? Fussy. That's it. I want something quite simple really."

"I think we've looked at most of them," Rinoa said. "Perhaps if you picked out something in roughly the style you want, and some fabric samples, you could ask a dressmaker to..."

But Ness wasn't listening. She was wandering off towards a corner by the sales desk, which had a sign above it reading 'Galbadian Romance Collection'.

"Oh dear," murmured Rinoa, and dutifully followed her, with Selphie trailing just behind.

Ness had plucked from the rack a confection of silk and lace, replete with ruffles, extravagant cuffs resembling giant spiders webs on a frosty morning, and a skirt festooned with bows.

"It looks like a giant lampshade," Selphie said.

Ness laughed a brittle sort of laugh. "Well, you'd need a certain height and stature to carry it off."

"Goodness!" Rinoa said, before Selphie could attempt anything dangerous. "We're late for meeting Zell in the stationery department. Come on, we don't want him to come looking for you and accidentally see the dress, do we?"

"I haven't even chosen one yet," Ness pointed out. "But I suppose we shouldn't keep him waiting."

Selphie jabbed the lampshade-dress with one accusing finger, as if she expected it to leap out and attack.

"Come on!" Rinoa hissed, and steered both of them towards the exit, with an apologetic smile at the sales assistant.

Something caught her eye on the last rail they passed before the exit. Shimmering white satin, with a fringed skirt and fine, ribbon shoulder straps. She couldn't help but reach out and touch it.

Selphie took the lollipop out of her mouth and frowned. "Didn't you used to have a dress like that, Rin?"

"Yes," said Rinoa, runing her fingertips softly over the fine-beaded bodice. "Yes, I did."

Ness plucked the dress from the rail and held it out at arm's length, surveying it with a critical eye.

"Well, I suppose it's a possibility," she said doubtfully. "For a bridesmaid's dress, I mean. Obviously you wouldn't have it for the bride."

"Obviously," Selphie murmured, rolling her eyes.

"You wanted pink for the bridesmaids," Rinoa said, plucking hte dress from Ness's hands and slotting it back on the rail. "Come on. We'll be late."

If Selphie saw the tears Rinoa hastily brushed from her cheek, she didn't say a word.

*

"Coffee?"

Irvine snapped out of his daydream to find Squall giving him a quizzical look. They were in the cafeteria queue and he realised with a start that they were finally getting served.

"Yeah," he said. "The frothy sort, with chocolate flakes."

Squall raised an eyebrow at the woman behind the counter, and she reached for a mug.

"I was thinking about the Guardians," Irvine said. "Have you asked Sanke what she thinks?"

"No," said Squall.

"Perhaps you should."

"Perhaps."

Irvine frowned. "Okay, why not 'hey, Irvine, great idea?'"

"Because it might not be such a great idea," said Squall in his infuriating, straightforward way. Then he smiled at the woman who was putting big mugs of coffee on his tray, and moved towards the checkout. He pulled his card through the swiping machine.

"Why not?" Irvine asked. "You know she feels other Guardians, she understands the way they operate like we never could."

Squall sighed. "It's not that straightforward. What if...."

A flicker of fury flared in Irvine's belly. "You think she's on their side?"

Squall tucked his card back in his jacket pocket, and picked up their tray. "Not deliberately, no. But she is very young."

"I can't believe this! You really think she would betray us?!"

Squall stopped, put the tray back down, and turned to Irvine.

"Irvine," he said, icy-calm. "Don't be an idiot."

"But-"

"We're in public. Control yourself."

Irvine looked around the cafeteria - it wasn't full, by any means, but of the sprinkling of cadets and SeeDs occupying the tables a good two thirds of them were staring at him. Too late, Irvine realised he'd shouted loud enough for half the room to hear.

Their audience guiltily directed their attention back to their plates and cups, and Irvine directed his back to Squall.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Appearances are very important at times like this," said Squall, and then, more loudly, "pick up the sugar. We'll sit over there by the steps."

Feeling like a moron, Irvine obediently grabbed a handful of sugar sachets and followed Squall to his selected table, head down.

"I trust Sanke," Squall said, sliding his coffee across the table to him. "But like anyone, she has vulnerabilities. I have to take those into account."

Irvine slipped his coat off his shoulders with a wry grin. He could well imagine what his own 'vulnerabilities' might be on Squall's little list.

"I don't think we give her enough credit," he said. "She may be a child in human terms, but her GF self is maturing at a very different rate."

Squall opened his mouth, hesistated, then said: "what ratio, do you think?"

"Sorry?"

"What ratio, human years to GF years, would you say her age was?"

"Well…. I don't know. At the moment, maybe a ten year old girl and a …. How do you even count Guardian years?"

Siren sniggered somewhere in the back of his mind.

~Well?~ Irvine asked her. ~How old are you?~

~You should never ask a lady her age,~ Siren replied, still amused.

"Exactly," Squall said. "Guardians have a very different notion of time and maturity. They're not all from the same dimension, even. Oceanus didn't age noticably in the time we've been able to junction. None of the Guardians have."

"But Sanke's powers have grown, right?"

"Of course." Squall hesitated again. "You have read the reports?"

"Reports?" said Irvine, nervously.

"From Odine? About Sanke? From the time she's spent in Esthar?"

"Oh. Well…. No. Not exactly."

Squall's eyes went wide, as if Irvine had revealed he was secretly running a Garden brothel or something.

"I did get them," Irvine confessed. "Just kinda never got around to…."

Squall sighed deeply.

"Look, I'm sorry, man. Okay? Life was weird for a while and...." To Irvine's horror, his eyes filled with tears.

"Her powers haven't just matured, they seem to have grown exponentially. Far faster than Odine predicted. She seemed to be in control of them, but now.... man, are you alright?"

Irvine scrubbed his hands across his eyes and sniffed. "Fine. Yes. Sorry. Her powers have grown faster than expected?"

Squall gave him a long look and then said, "We just don't understand enough of that side of her, that's all. She might be open to exploitation or..."

"You think her Guardian nature might be evil? You can't believe that, Squall. This is Sanke we're talking about!"

It took every ounce of his concentration, but he managed to keep his voice low, if urgent.

"... uncontrolled outbursts. Irvine, calm down."

Irvine stared at his coffee. His hands rested on his thighs, clenching and unclenching. He struggled to think; his mind was all raging hurt and red mist.

"Irvine." There was a steady hand on his shoulder, and Squall's icy blue eyes were locked to his. "It's okay. I won't let anything bad happen to her."

Irvine let the touch soothe him, and slowly his mind began to clear. "I trust you," he said, eventually.

"Thanks," said Squall. "Now, drink your coffee and stop being an ass."

*

Kellon and Tenta finally emerged from the now-horizontal lift shaft to a twisted mess that had once been a corridor. Kellon was all too aware that the structure was weak: this was where the elevator section had sheared off and, although the rest of the prison was the right way up and most probably stable, there was a mess of metal and sand between the two: a tunnel as fragile as a sandcastle with the tide coming in.

Tenta stopped.

Kellon grabbed her arm, and ran forwards.

She was acutely aware that she was running into a potential trap: if the tunnel collapsed; if the thin metal ceiling gave way to the pressure of the sand above it; if there were an earthquake or a sandworm; if something came behind them….

... and then they were standing tall in the centre of a walkway, cells to the left, solid walls on the right, and the emergency lights were still on.

"Okay," said Kellon. "We made it, okay? Now, what do we-"

"Did that wall just move?"

Kellon followed the direction of Tenta's pointing finger. "What? By the cupboard thing?"

"The cupboard wasn't there," Tenta whispered.

Kellon wondered if Tenta might be in shock after their dash through the tunnel. "What?"

Tenta stepped forwards, her hand spread, darts ready between her fingers.

"Tenta, what are you…."

The darts flew and clattered against the metal cupboard.

Kellon was about to question Tenta's sanity out loud, but all at once the cupboard disolved to dust, and in its place stood the tallest, meanest monster Kellon had ever seen.

And there was nowhere left to run.

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