With her ears out of sorts, ringing in her own drums, Mirannda was quite surprised. Not only had the woman behind them effectively increased her idea by setting much of the entrance aflame, but the woman beside her had a flaming sword. The sword sang to her as it burned at the bugs that scurried about, bugs that she could easily see now. How their shells glowed brightly in the light, iridescent, it was almost entrancing.

Maybe it was because of the fact that she couldn't properly hear due to the attack from earlier, or because she was approaching a trance-like state while watching the beetles shine in the flames. It started out soft, almost inaudible, and began to crescendo. Tiny, shrill screams began to fill her head. Mirannda glanced around, thinking someone was in trouble. Just the three of them, though, and none of them were screaming, none of them sounded like tiny children. Soon, she had to cover her ears to try and drown out the sound, to little avail.

"Run away!" "The light! The Flame!" "It burns!" Mirannda spun around, highly confused. Who the hell was making all that ruckus!? A quick glance at the other two, and the phoenix knew they didn't hear it or let on that they could. "Escape to shadows!" There were thousands of voices, each one overlapping the next, each trying to get away from the flame, and screaming terrible deaths. Her eyes widened as she stared at the Phoenix Blade in Shiloh's hand. It couldn't be… No…

She had difficulties wrapping her head around the thought. Mirannda refused to believe that she can hear, let alone understand what a blasted beetle was saying. Yet deeper in, she could hear whispers of something wanting to bury itself in their flesh and eat their tender innards. The phoenix was not one to be afraid of much, yet this was too much. Haphazardly, she stumbled backward, and turned to try and run into the flames where the mummies burned. Let the flames try and scorch her! Even oblivion would be blessed relief from this torture of beetles talking to her. "Get them out!" She screamed, appearing quite delusional and paranoid.

Ultimately, the rogue with ill-fated luck was the one who eliminated that insect threat. I could see her from afar: wielding that phoenix blade of hers so effectively against the swarm. The beetles scattered in its wake, fleeing the light and flame until none were left in the open. Not all perished in the fire by the time I arrived, true, but their numbers had been reduced to cowering in the walls whilst the rest of us congregated.

Beyond that point, our surroundings seemed to calm considerably. The mummies behind us gave up trying to enter, instead choosing to loom beyond the flames like ever patient hunters. They'd pursue as soon as the grease fire died down, but not before.

'Smarter than they look,' I thought while looking back at them. My attention was swiftly grabbed back, though, just as soon as I heard Shiloh speak up.

"Indeed," I replied to her statement of fact; all before moving into my long overdue introduction. "Which means it might be best to know how to identify one another. You could call me Anne Marie, but it'd be factually inaccurate. Natsumi is far more appropriate." Yes, I still made a joke even after everything that had just happened to my company and me. Perhaps my companions would recognize this as nerves of steel or bravado, but it was honestly just my coping mechanism for wanting to be somewhere else: anywhere else. In fact, I proceeded to stay on that path of triviality, going so far as to offer chocolate to the two women in front of me even though we were still in the middle of a giant tomb. "And as an apology for the ears, here's some chocolate."

Sure enough, two bars of cacao butter sweetened with sugar appeared in my hands mere moments after that comment: one for each person other than myself. I handed them off to Shiloh and Miraanda without the slightest bit of hesitation, but then quickly noticed some strange behavior coming from the latter of those two. I thought perhaps she had been bitten by something – a poisonous scarab, for instance – but then she didn't display any outward signs of necrosis like I would expect from a poisonous insect bite.

In reality, what Miraanda was experiencing was just a sudden shift in her ability to hear. The incessant chattering of the scarabs around us was getting to her, but, quite predictably, she thought their tiny voices were just auditory hallucinations. I hadn't noticed that issue at first because I had subconsciously blocked out their chattering before I even entered the pyramid.  Years of experience since childhood made such actions second nature to me; but the same could not be said for someone just coming into their abilities like Miraanda was, especially around a nest as vast as Aysut. There were thousands of beetles in that place, and being unable to shut out their voices would be a hellacious experience for anyone, let alone your average mortal. Sadly, this possibility didn't occur to me until I heard the red-head screaming for the voices to stop, at which point I finally brought my hand gently toward her ear to help her before she ran away.

"Noisy buggers, aren't they," I asked while trying to stabilize the groundswell of magic around her head with a mind tower spell of my own? I looked at Shiloh following that question, and then promptly explained the most likely reason for our acquaintance's behavior. "I wouldn't worry about our friend here. It's very likely that she's just discovered an ability to communicate with insects so now she's hearing the scarabs and it's freaking her out. Half of them are running in terror from you; while the other half are talking about eating our innards. Either way, it'd definitely be unnerving for a first timer. I, myself, just blocked it out automatically upon entering the city, so I didn't notice at all."

The aforementioned insects must have been listening at that point, because I could suddenly hear a couple voices louder than the others during my explanation.

'Shit! She can hear us,' said one! While another followed up with, 'Everybody shut up! She'll think we went away!' Soon, the scurrying and chattering stopped. Every member of the swarm had seemingly gone into stealth mode at the drop of a hat. They thought this was their wisest course of action: to lay low until we least expected it. All they really did, however, was manage to incense me.

"I can see you through walls, you sorry sacks of protein," I said in response to their pathetic attempt at hiding, all while using my optics to spy on them in their tunnels. Almost in unison, their numbers sprang back to life once I said that, the second voice from before crying, 'Eek,'  before fleeing alongside his brethren! Those further down the tunnel still talked of eating and devouring, but they were much quieter once the others reached them. In fact, everything was much quieter in a few moments, finally leaving my trio in peace.

When the insects were gone, the red-haired woman started to freak out, acting like something was on or inside of her. Backing away to keep her distance, she had her mental questions answered by the other person in the group. Introducing herself as Natsumi, Shiloh merely shrugged at the woman's joking speech. Well, not like running around in a panic would do them any better. She then presented both of them with a bar of chocolate in apology for blowing out their ears. So that was where that blast had come from…

Taking the chocolate, Shiloh did what came natural for her. Peeling the wrapper partway open, she sniffed it. When she determined that there wasn't anything strange about the scent, she broke off a small corner and tilted up her mask. The piece disappeared into her mouth and she recovered her face. The rest was put away for later. Letting the piece melt on her tongue, she waited while testing for any signs of bitterness. Determining it wasn't poisoned, she swallowed. Sweets were a luxury for Shiloh, having spent most of her life getting by and saving for days ahead. Even after she had secured a stable influx of side jobs, she was frugal with her money. If things continued as they did, hopefully she'd have enough to start her own business and buy a place for herself.

Natsumi went over to the distressed redhead, and explained that she wasn't having a mental breakdown. Apparently she'd been unlucky in discovering the ability to hear the voices of the insects at one of the most inopportune of times. Shiloh made a face when Natsumi mentioned the insects' desire to eat them alive. Not that it was a surprise, but still unnerving. "Serves them right then. Did they really think they'd be getting an easy meal?" The noises then ceased, and it became too quiet. Shiloh's hearing wasn't to the degree that the red-haired woman had, but thousands of little legs stopping movement was noticeable. Natsumi then turned to look at the walls, like she could see where the beetles were hiding and addressed them. "I can see you through walls, you sorry sacks of protein." As if responding to her words, the scurrying resumed again.

"…So they'll be leaving us alone for a while I guess? Now if only the other vermin infesting this place could follow their example." She frowned looking at the waiting undead still at the pyramid's entrance. The pack started to thin out but she expected them to swarm back in once the flaming barrier died down. They were safe, for now. "Now what?" The couldn't back out, but should they go forward? "This whole place's a giant deathtrap, I doubt there are any 'safe' rooms. I bet there's worse things just waiting to greet us in there."

Natsumi lifted her hands to Mirannda's ears. A warm sensation overcame her, like a magic wrapping itself around her head. It was as if a piece of cotton was stuffed into her ears as the tiny voices became muted to a much more manageable experience. Instead of thousands of voices scurrying around in her mind, it was more like whispers, an annoying buzz on the edge of her hearing. An odd sense of relief and confusion was written all over her face.

Before coming to Revaliir, only one person had the audacity to use magic on her mind. That was a painful experience. She had been promised power if she was to do his bidding, yet the power came at a terrible price. In order to learn every spell, she inflicted pain to herself for hours as her consciousness became buried into a metaphysical world that he had ultimate control over. Every obstacle felt like it was lined with millions of thorns. Yet this was different, soothing. Mirannda understood the explanation, but was still trying to wrap her mind around the spell cast upon her.

Nearly stupefied, Mirannda absently took the offered chocolate and began to nibble at the end. Someone had touched her mind, hadn't tried to extract anything, force her to do something, or even stuff her into herself so that they may painfully teach her a new trick. "Thanks." Deep down, she knew she should shake off this timid, scared appearance, even if she was still rattled by her recent discovery. Trying her best, but still nibbling on her chocolate, Mirannda mumbled her name, "I'm Mirannda," as she turned to walk deeper into the pyramid, she wasn't quite paying attention to her footing.

Needless to say, buried under the sand is a pressure pad that was mostly hidden. She stepped on it and froze in place when she heard a clicking sound. Along the right wall, several stone paneling fell into the ground, and a giant axe swung out, nearly missing Mirannda as she dropped herself to the ground. "Oof! Please tell me that this is going to be the worst of these infernal booby traps!" Yup, she was thrown back into the proper state of mind with the near death experience.

Events inside that sand-ridden tomb had a funny way of fluctuating between calm and chaos at a moment's notice during my initial visit to it. The fleeting silence brought about by the beetle retreat was one such example, for no sooner had Shiloh and I begun a conversation on that topic had yet another trap sprung further down the hall. This time, the target was Mirannda, whose careless footsteps nearly relieved her of her head. Almost completely in tune with what the rogue had surmised mere seconds before the trap's activation, the entire pyramid was proven to be a death trap; even if any sane mind could have guessed that from the living statue alone.

Regardless, and prior to the trap's activation, I had taken the time to have a little fun with the pessimist of the group. While Mirannda was recovering from her near mental breakdown, Shiloh had asked about the possibility of the scarabs returning. Rather than voice my opinion on the matter, I decided to have SAI playback my conversation with the beetles. This time, the words were translated into common so everyone could understand the story, though my party members might still have been confused by the fact that my clothes were "speaking" during the reenactment.

It was shortly after this skit that the hatchet finally came down; near perfectly synchronized with the masked scout's comment on worse things awaiting us.
   
"Perhaps that answers your questions, yet to be introduced scout," I remember asking her rhetorically after Mirannda snapped out of her dazed state. The next question for me to answer was related to my intentions in that place, and, while I took care not to reveal too much in case Rudjek was still listening, I did fill my two acquaintances in with enough information to make a decision. "Frankly," I began, "I have reason to reach the top of this place, so I will be going forward regardless of any traps along the way. I also have no doubt they will get worse." Touching my gloved hand to a nearby, glowing hieroglyphic, I continued. "I'm not sure you two are as attuned to magical energies as I am, but I can tell there's a vast network of power being channeled throughout this entire structure. The magic strengthens with altitude, so I'd wager that the source of the undead menace lies at the apex of this pyramid. If my guess is correct, damaging that source will also temporarily deactivate all undead in the immediate area. That would allow you two to egress, if you so pleased, even if we had to punch a hole through the pyramid's exterior to get you out faster. I, on the other hand, have a personal interest in seeing that this item shattered into dust, so I will not be leaving with you until my goal is assured." Finally turning back toward the entrance, I finished my statement to the four waiting ears. "Alternatively, you could try running through an oil fire and into the waiting arms of those mummies. I wouldn't recommend that option, though. Seems rather… unhealthy."

Unfortunately, I saw something I wished I hadn't following that remark. For one, the statue that I had so thoroughly shattered mere moments ago was slowly reforming on its pedestal. Each individual piece was growing legs like a scarab beetle, and using those newfound appendages to crawl back together. Meanwhile, the mummies from before were also leaving, as if they had found something more interesting out on the dunes. I feared they were either massing for another assault on Aestas or that they had found Robin. Either way, time was not on my side.

"Tch. Stubborn bastards just don't know when to quit."

When she was given a recording several tiny voices, Shiloh stifled a laugh. It was a good thing she didn't understand them at the time, can you imagine the screams of bloody murder every time you reeled in a fish? The red haired woman referred to herself as Mirannda after recovering from that shock, which left  her the only one left not introduced. She was going to stop Mirannda from stumbling down the hall when her ears told her the redhead had triggered something as expected. "Oof! Please tell me that this is going to be the worst of these infernal booby traps!" Came her voice from further down. "No, it's not." Shiloh replied dryly. "If there's a chance of dodging it, then it's just a warning. Not enough overt murderous intent." Having survived a hanging, drowning, isolation in solitary confinement, a potential execution via beheading, being tied to burn at the stake, flogging, and a live burial–swinging weapons from the ceiling was just standard fare. It didn't make it any less awful however.

"…I'm Shiloh." She finally said, seeing they were waiting for her to introduce herself. Listening to Natsumi's analysis of the pyramid's structure, she grimaced beneath her mask. "Oh, wonderful. So the deeper we go the worse it becomes. They're really making it a gauntlet for anybody who wants this mess to end. If I had the choice, I'd be all for blasting a hole through to break whatever's powering the place." In response to Natsumi's sarcasm on crossing the flaming inferno outside, she gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. "All we have to do is make sure we don't die right? …Easier said then done." The pessimist in her knew not to get her hopes up too high. That was how you learned to appreciate the little things in life–like breathing.

Based on the newly given information, Shiloh came to a few conclusions. The first was that using her locus ability would give her a massive migraine thanks to the sheer amount of magic swimming around them. The next was that this mission was either all or nothing–take out the source or die trying, increasing the body count. And last but not least, no matter which choice they made it would be equally dangerous. And most importantly of all, trust nothing. The worst thing about magic was how versatile it could be used, which was going to be a real pain in the neck for them. "Well, let's get going. The longer we stay in here the sooner we'll run into a roadblock." Thanks to her paranoia, she had whatever she would need within an arm's distance.

Glancing behind to see if their wall of fire was still keeping ambushers out, she saw something moving in a very unsettling manner. Were those–stone fragments? No, those weren't just pieces of stone. It was when she saw an arm with legs coming out from the elbow that she recognized it was the statue that had tried to impale her earlier. Madness! This was madness! So basically nothing could be completely destroyed until they took out the sorcerer responsible? Gritting her teeth she clenched her hands in anger. This was completely unfair and that lit a fire in her, motivating her to send whoever made this deathly sandpit to the Circles. This was why she held an intense dislike towards mages; especially ones who used magic to twist things to their own advantage. Necromancer, sorcerer–same thing. 

Mirannda stood and brushed herself off. For the most part, she was fine, barely any scratch on her at all. Natsumi was giving another speech, yet it wasn't about gods, and easier to follow. She grinned at the woman. "Don't worry, dust it shall be." came a promise that Mirannda was unsure if she herself could follow up on. The smile faded as she watched the statue piece itself back together, the sight being quite disturbing like a swarm of rock beetles rushing to form a great piece of terrible art.

"Best not dally. The faster we can deal with this little problem, the less death we have on our hands." The phoenix turned, and more carefully this time, began to delve deeper into the pyramid. How many men and women would they bury, each one mutilated by leathery fingers and yellowed cotton. She had chosen to contemplate everything in silence, being quite careful as to where she was stepping. Mirannda wasn't keen on triggering another trap.

It was unknown how many were actually avoided, yet they had not triggered another one as far as she was aware. However, the deeper they went in, even with the spell put in place by Natsumi, the incessant whisperings of the beetles began to multiply as if the rumors of two people hearing and understanding them had stopped spreading. Constant buzzing from them was annoying, and beginning to grate on her nerves. People actually want this skill?

The phoenix paused for a minute, taking a swig of water from her canteen, trying to will her growing headache away. Magic was becoming more palpable, like a great pressure beginning to press down upon her firmly, her skin suddenly feeling a bit too small for her. A single voice turned into several until hundreds were begging for a particular trap to be tripped. Mirannda snapped her head up, ran as fast as she could, and tried to push Shiloh out of the way. Unfortunately, the trap was triggered regardless, causing an avalanche of rubble to fall. Not only was the way now blocked, but Mirannda was trapped under a nice layer of the heavy rocks, intense pain rushing through her brain before even her heart stopped working.

Our party came to an agreement after the temple's energies reformed its prized sculpture, although not before a few more questions came my way. Shiloh – who had at last given her name – let her pessimism flood into the area around us. She remarked on our chances of our survival and how slim they were; and, while I could appreciate the realism, I still curbed it slightly with a spot of wisdom.

"That's pretty much the whole point of life, Shiloh: don't die. Astronomically few succeed in that goal, true, but we'll manage." Mirannda also made a comment in that time span, though hers was more on the optimist's side. She offered to help me without knowing my reasons for wishing the destruction of Rudjek's power: a rare gesture of kindness if I ever saw one. Being strangers to one another, however, made me leery of her aid, so I respectfully declined it with an unshifting expression. "I appreciate the thought, but you shouldn't make promises you can't be sure to keep."

Beyond that point, our trio reached an accord. We ventured forth through the sandstone tunnels, somehow experiencing a suspiciously high concentration of good luck. There were traps - that much I could tell - but something was disabling most of their number before they could activate. We also managed to avoid any and all dead ends no matter what direction we travelled, as if something beyond our perception was guiding us through the labyrinth. At first, I thought this was merely a sign of a begrudging welcome – an overall unsettling idea if true. After Mirannda was consumed by a trap I thought disabled, however, it became clear that the pyramid was just lulling us into complacency.

"How unfortunate." A ghostly wail echoed through the tunnel we were currently in immediately after those rocks collapsed it, sending a chill down my back. "I can't raise a phoenix from the dead, and the rogue would have at least made a fitting servant to my lord. Ah well, another time." I couldn't see what had happened to Shiloh just then, but I could definitely tell that Mirannda was dead even without the voice's proclamation. Likely, the speaker was Rudjek himself, now powerful enough to communicate with us through the walls, though there was no way to prove for certain.

Of course, if it was Rudjek, I thought at the time, why didn't he mention me? Admittedly I was curious about that missed detail; curious why I wasn't listed as part of his scheme yet. And, although I suspected he would lie in response to any question I asked on the matter, I still made the effort to point out the discrepancy.

"I suppose that means he doesn't much care what happens to me." But of course, Rudjek did care. His resultant chuckle in regard to my comment told me immediately that he was just playing with his food, even before he decided to make any follow-up statements.

"Oh, but I do, white one," he replied with some measure of smug cruelty. "I smell her on you: one of the few sacrifices not hidden away in that vexing camp. I know she's here in this desert, just waiting for Sardon's faithful to snatch her up. Because of her, you'll have the luxury of dying last. Consider it thanks for bringing a sacrifice to this desert so willingly; and without even being asked!"

The high priest's voice faded then, though not before he laughed at my consternation. Anger got the better of me in the immediate aftermath, causing me to crush a portion of the column I had used to stabilize myself during the cave in. My concern for Robin was now greater than ever, so much so that I didn't even bother to check on Shiloh or Mirannda anymore. Instead, I immediately summoned a spade to dig out the rubble blocking my path, all while holding a mental conversation with SAI.

'SAI, where are we,' I asked after breaking ground?
'About halfway to the top, by my calculations.'
'Good, because someone needs my boot up their ass.'
'Perhaps a shot from Toirneach would be more appropriate?'
'I like the way you think, but let's make it two shots.

It wasn't long after that final statement that I uncovered the smashed face of my former companion, but I just kept moving beyond her corpse without showing the slightest reaction. People died. That was reality; but, unlike what Mirannda had said before her demise, I didn't believe that any of the fatalities caused by Rudjek or his minions were on my hands. Mirannda's death was her own doing; and the only deaths that would ever be on my personal account were my own and my family's. For them, for Robin, I would stop at nothing to see safe: not even the sight of the many more corpses to come.

The whole time they were walking, Shiloh's paraonia was growing with each passing moment. This was too good to be true. Why weren't there any traps? No spikes from the walls, no floors that gave way into barbed pits, no walls that grew closer before they crushed them flat, or the infamous quicksand trap. She didn't like this at all. If something seemed too good to be true, it likely was. It was only a matter of time before her anticipation was proved right. Turning off her aura sight had been a poor choice, but the worst part was somebody pushing her out of the way to take the fall. The tunnel collapsed on them, but most of the rubble was on Mirannda. Shiloh was still partially buried, and was in pain.

I knew it. I knew this would happen. One way or another it was going to end like this. This whole place is just a giant moving box of parts thanks to that dead mage. You shouldn't have taken any chances, but even then could you really hope to keep avoiding everything? He's pulling the strings. Even if you dodge one, he can just make more.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the reverberating voice of the one responsible for Aestas' grief. "How unfortunate. I can't raise a phoenix from the dead, and the rogue would have at least made a fitting servant to my lord. Ah well, another time." What did he just say? Who did this big-headed prick think he was? So he happened to be the high priest of a fallen god and a powerful necromancer. So what if he was? Shiloh's nihilism turned to anger and that smug attitude of his had her incensed. The fallen stones had created a sizable pool of shadows, and from beneath the rubble something began to twist and move. The shadows turned into ghastly arms that yanked the sandstone bricks off as a hand forced its way out from under. Pulling herself out, the battered figure of the rogue crawled out seething with fury. The mask had a fracture in it, but still held. From beneath, her eyes shone as she was absolutely livid.

"So that's how you're going to play, you filthy mage? As if I'd ever bend to a punk like you! I'm sending you to the Reaper in a hand basket! So it's all a game to you, huh? Well fine–now let's play 'fair and square'…" Boiling over with rage, a small innocuous amulet resting in her knapsack began to crack. Seeing red, the shadows went into a frenzy and she sent massing chunks of it flying behind them. Unintentionally uncovering more of Mirannda's fallen body, Shiloh pulled out her dragon-bone sword and her flaming blade in another. It didn't matter how strong this necromancer was–as soon as he was in her sights, she was going to tear him a new one–right between the eyes. She couldn't do anything about the redheaded woman now, but she told herself that she'd come back for her later, after she repaid the lich's favor for that little accident.

It didn't matter if she did die, she'd get back up and beat that conceited undead priest's corpse into the ground until he didn't have one. 

Yet that was exactly what I did: stopped at nothing. I thought, I could've sworn I was running alongside Shiloh after she declared war on Rudjek. In my head, that was what was happening; but when I noticed droplets hitting the sandstone beneath my feet I suddenly realized I was nowhere near the roguish woman. Rather than running forward, I had retreated all the way back to the entrance, and I hadn't been consciously aware of it until after I saw the statue of Sardon again. Those droplets? They were my tears.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but it was the first time I felt so empty inside. I was crying, and yet I felt no happiness, no pain, nothing. I was running away again, but what was I running from? I didn't know.

I stood in that entrance for a time, trying to determine what had me so afraid. I tried to look toward Robin for guidance, but all my thoughts of her simply faded to black when I tried to recall. My memories had become encased in stone without my permission, and my attempts to reach them were no more effective than trying to use bare hands against a brick wall. Nothing worked, but, in the end, it was that hardened shield that allowed me to glimpse a sliver of the truth.

There had been other women before Robin, but, when the going got tough, I had either abandoned them or failed them. Most of their cases were failures; and also just puppy love. In truth, I had entertained crushes like them far more often in the past than I did now; but too many deaths and disappointments later had succeeded in spoiling my romanticism and optimism. The pain of loss became unbearable past a certain point, so I finally chose to model myself after a more emotionless counterpart: my mother.

Mother had long suffered from a condition that gradually stripped her of emotion even back then, or at least numbed her ability to feel. It turned her into a sociopathic workaholic, someone who dove themselves into theorems and technology all day rather than fraternizing. I thought that kind of attitude was what I needed when I was most vulnerable, what would save me from my misery; so I pursued it against my mother's behest. All that time, though, she warned me that she never truly lost her human emotion, and that her workaholic tendencies just drowned out her pain instead of absolving it. I never listened, sadly, not once; and it was only after I had what I desired that I realized how terrible a fate I had subjected myself to.

That was why I was running; because, for all my attempts to drown out my emotions, all I had succeeded in doing was painting a rosy tint over my reality. I wanted to run; to hide; to escape to a place where not even I could judge myself. Maybe then I could avoid responsibility and the possibility of failure. That's what my subconscious was telling my legs; yet, typically, I faltered, stopped in my tracks and wavering like a frightened child.

"Is this how you felt, Mother," I asked the wind while dithering in front of the flames again? I felt her in the back of my mind as soon as the words left my mouth: an entity that was always listening. Unlike the times I had talked to her before, though, she didn't impart any words of wisdom on this occasion. Instead, she guided my hands to summon something: a golden egg that I had long thought broken. The item was none other than one of the legendary Kichona Kiokus.

Since the day I had retrieved one of those crystalline eggs, I had seen nothing but static in its self-contained world. They were supposed to show a person their most treasured memory in the universe of Revaliir, but the sad truth was that I had none. My personal vision had always been nothing but a grainy film of nothingness: an empty void that would make even a hardened soldier shed tears. I didn't expect this to ever change, so I almost threw the egg away before opening it this most recent time.

SAI ended up stopping me, though. Before I could discard the golden egg, she controlled my arms and had me open it. There, under the dust of the forsaken tomb, my static was gone. In its place was the portrait of Robin's smile that I had painted when we first met. It was staring back at me with those closed eyes and its fragile expression of joy; almost like Robin herself was there cheering me on.

In that moment, when I started bawling loudly over the memory I had hidden from myself, I remembered what it was like to feel genuine love for another person. Robin's relationship with me was young compared to those of my past, and yet I already loved her enough for her to be part of my most precious memory on Revaliir. I had just been too afraid to admit to the truth; and, as a result, had almost abandoned her rather than try and risk failing to help her. Rudjek had taken advantage of that, something that became obvious when he taunted me again during my outflow of suppressed emotion.

"So that's what she looks like," he remarked from the temple walls again. "You've been good little helper, fox." This time, though, I displayed no outward anger. Instead, I slowly and quietly closed my memory and then stood up to head back into the catacombs.

"Thanks for toying with me," I said while sending the Kichona Kioku away. My choice of words in that moment seemed to confuse the high priest, so I ended getting a more genuine response this time.

"Thanks," he asked incredulously, to which I responded before breaking into a silent sprint back toward Mirannda's grave?

"Yes, thanks, because you gave me just enough time to cool off and realize what's important to me. I'm not a fox nor is my determining factor the color of my hair. I am a phantom in this world, a dream of the past, and a nameless one that hasn't wanted to live in the present for longer than you've been alive or dead. Now that I have a reason to change that, you want to take her away. I may fail to stop you in this, but I'm sure as hell going to make you bleed before I let you lay one finger on her. And if you don't have blood, then I will make you feel pain even if I have to resurrect you just to kill you again."

__________________

Meanwhile, back at Mirannda, the beetles from before had tried to surround her fallen body. They were preparing to feast, but, oddly enough, a large influx of their natural predators prevented that activity. Fire salamanders from the Sularian desert congregated around the fallen phoenix in mass, picking off scarabs before they could get close. They protected her from danger while also enjoying a meal of their own; almost as if they knew she would soon return.