Of The Jungle

Of The Jungle

                Tucked deep in the Jungle of Ten Terrors (a name coined by a 'famous explorer' who really just collated a series of rumours about the place) there lies a village. This village is one of several villages inhabited by one of the 'Terrors' of the jungle - the 'Plant People'. It is said that they are part man, part plant, and all danger; walking horrors of flesh and vegetation. Many are the tales of brave explorers who have found themselves suddenly surrounded, the trees seeming to come alive as the bark covered plant people rise all around them... That so many survive these attacks unharmed is perhaps the greater surprise.

                This rumour, like most of the others, is incorrect but has its roots in truth. The so-called 'Plant People' are ordinary humans - except they are each symbiotically joined with what is normally a parasitic plant species. Several varieties of this plant exist. Each tightly connects with the flesh of the people, digging and blending their roots into the flesh of their host. The variety that is joined to the warrior-hunters grants a fearsome, almost inhuman appearance - a coating of bark from head to toe with very few gaps. To outsiders, they seem almost like a race of walking trees; yet when harmed they bleed. This, more than anything else, gave rise to the rumour.

                The majority of the plant people, though rarely seen outside their never-before-visited villages, are vastly more human in appearance. Their plants are specialised for tasks that do not require coverage of the entire body for safety. Amongst the other varieties are the farmers, whose plants grow highly nutritious (and safe to harvest) delicacies for frequent harvest; the crafts-folk, who have vines they control to support what they work on or hold extra tools - some vines even end in specialised tools for one trade or another; those who delve in the caves or the waters, whose plants keep them from running out of breath; and many more.

                Today the village is bustling with activity. It is the 'day of planting', a very important yearly ritual in all villages of the plant people. It is during this ritual that children who have reached three years of age are joined to the plants that will grow with them for the rest of their lives. The plants are cultivated by the grandparents of the children (or their parents, if they have no grandparents) in pots for three years after the child's birth; and on the day of planting they are removed from their pots and allowed to join to the children.

                Though likely a disturbing sight for outsiders - the wriggling roots of the plants are perhaps not the most delightful thing in the world - this yearly ritual is a day of happiness within the village. It celebrates the new life of the child and plant; and also the conjoining of their existences. It reminds all present of their unity with and reliance upon the plants that provide them with food, convenience and safety in a jungle full of horrors.

                Two of each child's relatives accompany them in the ritual. One - either of the child's direct parents - holds the child; the plant is held by whoever cultivated it. When their turn comes, the three - child, parent, planter - walk to the centre of the gathered villagers (in this village, in a field just outside of their homes) to perform he joining. The child is presented, then the plant, and then with great solemnity the plant is allowed to plant its roots within the child. Each presentation is greeted with cheers; and a final, louder cheer when the joined child is raised to show the joining's completion.

                There are very few cases of planting in which the child does not cry. The joining is a painful process, and only the bravest, strongest children can hold back their tears. But few bawl; each, though very young, has already been told that this is the most important day of their lives. Even marriage pales in importance before the day they were joined. Despite the importance of the day, very few remember it. At the time they are planted they are, after all, at most nearly four years old.

                Typically the ritual will complete without any rejections, but there will be the odd instance in which a plant will refuse to join. When this happens, it does not stigmatise the child. Instead, it is the fault of the plant's grower - this plant is not suitable for humans. The plant is destroyed, and although the child will not participate in the ritual again it is the grower's duty to try again and again to grow a suitable plant. To fail for years results in being truly shunned; most especially by the growing, plant-less child. Should the child reach the age of ten without being joined the grower will be barred from growing ever again; and the entire village will chip in to help grow a suitable plant.

                Traditional feasting follows the ritual - perhaps the reason the ritual is looked forward to with excitement, even by those who have no relatives being planted that year. There are no other festivals for these people (although the bi-weekly harvest of the farmers is often treated as a party - the high alcoholic content of some of the 'treats' is the likely cause of this). The ritual of planting is the one time of the year they are allowed to truly enjoy themselves.

                To say it is the only time of the year that they can forget momentarily that they live in the Jungle of Ten Terrors, one of the most dangerous places in the world and one that almost qualifies as a blight despite not being blasted or destroyed, is sadly true. For the rest of the year, most villages live in fear of sudden attacks from countless sources and must deal with the violent deaths of dozens. Yet this village does not - for they know the will of the Glorificant. She protects them with her glory. They repay her with their worship.

The Prisoner

The Prisoner

                Jo (Joenned, actually, but she wasn't particularly fond of it) walked through the rows of seemingly empty cages. Occasionally, from the corner of her eye, she'd catch a flicker of something. As if the air itself was distorting, just ever so slightly.

                This was normal. Each of the cages held a lesser sylph; unable to escape from the tightly sealed, egg-shaped glass enclosures. The glass itself had been made through Jo's magic and strengthened with the runic magic native to the world. Making the cages - and the rest of her laboratory - hadn't taken too much effort; but it made her miss her former power so very, very much.

                Upon becoming undead - an offer that had, at the time, seemed like a pretty good one - her power had been severely attenuated. Whether it was simply caused by the kind of undead she was (a 'remnant') or due to her lack of true life had never been figured out. The 'highest chance of retaining magic' advice had led her astray. She should've become a vampire.

                Being a remnant did have its advantages, of course. Although weak - no stronger than a human - and dulled in magic, her soul would reform a body elsewhere upon her death. That was how she came to live hidden away in the middle of the great arid waste, far south of the fallen empire she had once called home. That, and her great stroke of luck - her body was slain, but her soul had escaped capture by one of the few capable of destroying her.

                Impulsively she held out a hand, tapping along the cages gently as she walked. Almost all were full, now; she'd need to make more soon. In the earlier days, when she had only just captured Phwar, she would have been elated at the prospect of having so many sylphs to experiment upon.

                But experimenting on the sylphs, trying to merge her magic with theirs... Had not worked. Sometimes the sylphs died; sometimes there was no effect at all. The deaths had initially been promising - Jo had hoped there was some kind of trick to it - but her magic, when fused through force to the sylph, had an effect akin to poison. Or perhaps just akin to sticking a brick in a human's blood-stream.

                There was enough promise in another area to make up for all the failures. Watching Phwar at work, seeing how he made each of the lesser sylphs and slowly worked on ordinary sylphs, Jo had realised that she could do something similar herself. The almost ethereal form of her magic that she'd developed in hope of controlling or altering the sylphs could be formed in much the same way; and after much effort (and observation) she'd managed to create life herself.

                The results were quite underwhelming. Unlike the lesser sylphs - nigh incorporeal yet fully sentient beings - her 'wisps' (as she'd taken to calling them) were barely able to understand simple instructions. Her best one, a sort of lucky accident, was akin to a friendly dog. The rest were at most handy for fetching stuff or spotting intruders, but not much else.

                Finally reaching Phwar's cage - almost identical to the rest, but roughly twenty times the size - Jo smiled and said, "I see you're already at it again."

                "We made a deal, even though you killed a dozen of my daughters," replied Phwar. Unlike the lesser sylphs, he was fully visible within the cage. As a greater sylph he was unable to hide himself, even if he wished to. His voice was pleasantly deep rumble; quite different from the one he'd had when first caught. That voice had been fairly... shrill.

                "Yes; but you are supposed to let me observe you at work as much as possible," said Jo. She approached her magnification contraption and wheeled it around so she could get a better view of what Phwar was doing. The contraption was a massive array of lenses designed to magnify the minutia of the magical work Phwar did - Jo had stuck it on a wheeled table so she could move it around easily.

                "That was not part of the deal," said Phwar. As usual Jo was surprised by how manly he was these days - like all the sylphs, he had been made as female by his father. It was only through discussions with Jo about the Great Undead Empire (which had been almost entirely 'don't care' on matters of gender) that Phwar had realised that he could be male if he desired. It was within the powers of the sylphs to decide their form - they were, after all, effectively made of sentient air.

                The change had been jarring at first, and Phwar had had a little bit of amusing trouble maintaining the appearance and voice he desired, but in the past couple of years he had been fairly stable appearance wise. His personality had changed, yet not changed - it was more as if he was becoming comfortable with 'being' male. Jo honestly found it a bit fascinating, despite the complete lack of practical use her observations of his change had. Most fascinating was the idea of the 'creation of life' being a very masculine thing - it was as his father, Oophoo, had done for all the sylphs, long ago.

                With a light smile, Jo peered through the lenses. "It was the point of the deal, however, and I can certainly get away with imposing on you," she said. Knowledge - or more specifically, power - was the aim of her research. Learning to create her own servants, creating an army of them... That had potential. But she needed to observe Phwar an awful lot to figure it out.

                Thus, they had made a deal. Once Phwar had made one thousand lesser sylphs and fifty ordinary sylphs (something that would take about sixty years) he would be released, along with his daughters. It was inevitable that they'd destroy Jo; but Phwar was quite unaware of Jo's ability to revive so she'd be fine. Dead, but able to reform elsewhere again with all her knowledge.

                Forty years had passed since the deal, and Phwar was about two thirds done. Jo's calculation had been almost spot on even after Phwar discover that he needed to rest after about fifty hours of continuous effort. Each day of observation had provided new insights into how the sylphs were constructed. What the greater sylph did through instinct alone Jo was slowly mastering through experience.

                Spotting the particular action she was looking for Jo whipped out her notebook and started taking notes. Diagrams that indicated the motions Phwar made, rhythm notation for how long was spent on each part, a detailed description of the forming sylph (plus a rough sketch) and so many other little tidbits of information were scrawled across the pages rapidly.

                Jo had filled dozens of notebooks, summarised into a handful of useful manuals, copies of which she had buried in several locations near her lab. So long as the sylphs didn't hang around after their release she'd manage to recover at least one set. The chance of a safe return were good - Phwar had long been planning a triumphant return to the home he had abandoned.

                His home was something Phwar rarely talked about. Supposedly his father, in a fit of anger, had murdered one of his sisters in anger over her boyfriend. The boyfriend took his vengeance by slaying Phwar's father; something Phwar felt was just despite the tragedy. But things had continued to sour, and Phwar had left rather than see the horror that he expected to come. Jo's refusal to investigate for him (something that sounded easy but would in fact be hard for her to do) was a bit of a sore point between them. That, and the whole captor/captive thing.

                "You're doing some really good stuff today," said Jo. "This is a model forty-three, correct?"

                A deep, thrumming hum came from the prison as Phwar groaned as few but sylphs can. "Is today a slow day? I do not know which of your numbers corresponds to what style of daughter I am creating," responded Phwar. "She will be akin to my sisters Hoo and Ssst, if you must note it."

                "Ah, a forty-three mixed with a fifty-seven. A perfect century," said Jo. Perhaps it was a slow day. She rarely felt like teasing Phwar, except when boredom was creeping up on her.

                "Will she be finished by tomorrow?" asked Jo. Despite the interruptions, Phwar's hands were still moving, unceasing as they worked to create life.

                "Yes," said Phwar, "For she is a lesser."

                "Excellent," said Jo. Exactly what she wanted to take notes on - mid-grade sylphs were very similar in construction, yet took so long to create. "I'll settle in here then. Please, continue."

                Phwar paused for a moment and gave Jo a strange, questioning glance. Then, saying nothing, he turned back to the new life he held in his hands. As he went back to work it glowed brightly for a moment; happy to feel the return of its father.

Purge

Purge

                Following a barely visible path through a quickly darkening forest was not quite what Raquelynn had envisioned doing after she'd arrived at Huntedtow. Showing her powers off to the locals or trying to convince them to worship the Ever-growing Inferno through philosophical arguments were more along the lines of what she'd expected.

                But the very first thing that had been said, once the gathered crowd had seen her powers, was "Kill the monster that takes two of us each year, and we will follow your god." The following murmur of assent to the sentiment - including the village's mayor - had left Raquelynn without any other options.

                The 'monster' was an undead human of some kind, according to the villagers, that had appeared almost two centuries ago. Every month it would take someone from one of the villages in the area, taking a victim from each in turn. The victims were random, although some of the other villages had (according to hearsay) leaving criminals out for the monster to take.

                It would likely be a tough fight - many others had tried to slay the creature before and failed. Once it had even defeated a fairly large militia force; brave men and women from several different villages. None knew what happened to those that attempted to kill the creature, but the victims within the villages were left behind with their skulls crushed.

                There was only one other known fact about the monster: it was a woman. Descriptions of her had varied wildly, and some were obviously false or from greatly intoxicated individuals. Still, in all the creature was woman, whether a girl or a granny, a rake or a blob of writhing flesh.

                No, there were actually two known facts about the monster. The second was where she made her lair. In the forest, not far from Huntedtow at all, she had built a house. Hunters knew of it and avoided it - those who went too close disappeared. It was towards the house that Raquelynn made her way, following the scarce trodden path branch that went by it.

                Truly I should have accepted the offer of a guide, she thought. Refusing the offer because the woman who made it was kind of creepy seemed foolish, in retrospect. Still - if you say you're not even slightly interested...

                With a start, Raquelynn realised that just up ahead she could see a brighter patch - a clearing in the woods. She picked up her pace a little and was soon able to see through the trees into the clearing. Smack bang in the middle sat a house; quite certainly the one she was looking for.

                It had been built out of wood, quite likely from the very trees that had once filled the clearing. Unlike the almost every building Raquelynn had ever seen, this one stood three stories tall and was ornamented with a variety of wooden carvings. A scowling, winged human looked down from each of the roof corners; more from each of the corners of the veranda that ringed the house.

                A balcony jutting out from the third floor had different ornaments; some kind of flowing spirit or ghost. The house, as a whole, had a kind of frontier feeling to it. Perhaps not surprising, given where it had been built. Flowerless climbing bushes had been carefully cultivated into crawling up the veranda and part of the house itself; and the clearing itself had been filled with an extensive garden.

                The structure was impressive yet not imposing - overall it looked like quite a nice place to live. Although, as the lair of a monster that was feared greatly by all who lived nearby it was quite unusual. It seemed more like the hideaway of a great craftswoman-scholar, not a killer.

                Raquelynn made her way into the clearing, and from there through to the house itself. Even up close the garden, and house, retained its atmosphere of peaceful contemplation. Walking between the well-kept plants, she had to wonder what kind of monster would call such a place home. Certainly not a raging, mindless beast. Where there was a mind, there was potential. Perhaps.

                On guard in case she was attacked suddenly Raquelynn approached the front door of the house. It proved to be unlocked, so she slipped inside and took a look around.

                The room seemed fairly ordinary, despite the craftsmanship being a level beyond anything Raquelynn had ever seen. A couple of paintings decorated the walls; one a landscape that resembled the woods Raquelynn had just walked through, and the other a portrait of someone she did not recognise. They were very good paintings - especially so given that they had likely been painted by the creature herself.

                Raquelynn spent a few moments taking the room in, gleaning as much as she could infer from it. The creature was intelligent and had a sense of aesthetics; yet was obviously amoral - at least in regards to humans. Was the portrait a ruler? A lover? The creature herself? The last seemed unlikely, as the portrait seemed masculine...

                "Admiring my work, intruder?" came a voice from off to one side. Raquelynn whirled around; a woman - obviously the monster herself - stood in one of the doorways.

                "I suppose I am," replied Raquelynn. She's confident, otherwise she'd have stabbed me in the back. A intense rush of adrenaline was flooding through her body; it was at a level she'd only felt once before - when she was being given the power of a priestess of the Ever-Growing Inferno.

                "I am not much of a painter, but those are my two best works," said the woman, stepping gracefully through the room. She wore a dress that had a simple form yet complex pattern; beauty without sacrificing much practicality. The vibrant colours and magnificence of the dress distracted from her frail-seeming, overly tall form. Her face was pretty yet simple and her ash-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It was definitely not her in the painting.

                Raquelynn remained silent. The woman did as well, until she stood beside Raquelynn. Staring right at her, the woman said, "So, what are you doing here, human?"

                "I'm sure you know," replied Raquelynn. Speaking steadily despite the fear, the nerves... It was something Raquelynn was good at.

                "Another would-be slayer," said the woman, turning away from Raquelynn and stalking over to one of the walls. She turned back around, and added, "What makes you think you can kill me?"

                "I am Raquelynn, a priestess of the Ever-Growing Inferno," replied Raquelynn. "The power I have been given should prove sufficient."

                "Ohh, that new... cult," said the woman. Raquelynn frowned at the implications of the woman's words. "I've heard of your lot. I suppose, then, since you have introduced yourself, that I should introduce myself. I am Keptone; a Sullim and survivor of the Great Undead Empire. Perhaps, we can speak of things before I kill you. It has been a while since I have had a visitor, intruder or not."

                Raquelynn stared at the woman, Keptone, for a few seconds. "Alright," she said. "I am curious as well. What is a Sullim?"

                Keptone chuckled. "Telling you that would be foolish. But as you likely realise, I am one of the undead; that shall suffice. No, instead let us talk of where we are from: I would like to know more of your cult," said Keptone.

                "Fine. We are based far from here, on the south of the great crack that separates these lands from the remnants of the Starled Empire. We have spread along much of it, and now we grow outwards. We follow the Ever-Growing Inferno, who grants powers to those priests and priestesses who impress him," said Raquelynn. "What of the Empire you come from?"

                "Surely you have heard of it," said Keptone. "The great empire of the undead that humans descended upon as one to destroy out of fear. I was a builder and a scholar; turned from the ranks of pitiful servants for my skill. I built mansions, castles, keeps, villages. I fled when the war began along with many others, eventually making my way here. This inferno, what is he?"

                "He is a god of fire; stuck inside an unbreakable box. But his prison is damaged, so parts - the tiniest parts - of his power escape. This power is granted to us, and we use it to show his might and spread his influence. Why did you flee?"

                "I am not a warrior, and many of those who came had powers that could easily destroy me. It would have been foolish to remain." Keptone smiled. "Few, if any, know how to use those powers out here - and you, with your fire-god powers, are certainly not amongst them."

                There was a change in Keptone's demeanour as she finished speaking. Raquelynn could feel the sudden shift to murderous intent; she was about to be attacked. Oddly, Keptone hadn't shifted into any kind of attack stance - she was still completely unarmed. Some kind of magic?

                "You know nothing of me, and I know little of you; but you are a living human so this should do," said Keptone, smiling. Realising what she'd said, she added, "Eugh, rhyming."

                Raquelynn barely had a chance to react before a strange, mostly black shape - like a cloud almost, but the edges weren't fuzzy - appeared in front of Keptone, and then seemed to reach out to her in the very next moment. In the third moment she felt it in her - not touching her body, but something else. The fourth moment was when it bit her. Not her body, but her soul.

                A scream, her scream, filled the air as whatever Keptone was doing tore into Raquelynn's very self. It hurt, beyond anything she'd ever felt before. Her soul was being harmed - and the fire within her, the gift of the Ever-Growing Inferno, stirred. It blazed bright throughout her soul, and in perhaps the sixth moment, shielded her. The pain was gone immediately; before the attack had even caused a wound.

                It was Keptone's turn to scream. Whatever she had struck with, it was being burnt - destroyed by the magic that had been merged with Raquelynn's soul. "No!" she added, after her scream finished. She stumbled back against the wall, eyes unfocused. Whatever harm had come to Keptone, there was no outward sign of it. Likely the harm - and Keptone's attention - was internal.

                "What... are you?" asked Keptone, wincing and starting to edge towards the door she had entered through.

                "A priestess of the Ever-Growing Inferno," replied Raquelynn. "What did you try to do to me? That was pain like I've never felt before. Like you tried to bite my soul."

                "You burnt mine!" yelled Keptone. "This damage... I'm going to have to take more of them now. One a week, two a week? The villagers you want to help, they'll die for this."

                Before the Sullim could edge any further Raquelynn darted forwards and pushed her into the wall. Raquelynn held the creature's arms hard against the wall to stop her from moving. "I think you're probably just going to die here," said Raquelynn, "but I'd still like to know what you did."

                Keptone struggle futilely, then said, "I am a Sullim. We devour souls. Not drain, not remove; we devour them with our own. I tried to tear into yours; but your fire stopped me. Burnt my soul. Destroyed a piece. Now my soul is less stable, and I must feed more. Because of you!" With the last word, she spat something black - rotten blood, probably - past Raquelynn's face.

                "Your soul is incomplete?" asked Raquelynn. She ... had a bit of an idea.

                "Yes," spat Keptone. "I've never been whole. That gluttonous fool fouled up the transformation, kept me under watch. I was never a proper citizen of the great empire - a pitied servant. My potential place, any greatness, denied. And now I'm to die far from home at the hands of a fanatic."

                Raquelynn chuckled. "The fire doesn't have to burn, you know," she said. "Strange as that sounds. Do this one thing right and I'll let you go. Touch my soul, but gently."

                A glare, then almost sulky acquiescence crossed Keptone's face. "Very well," she said.

                Once more the darkness spilled out of Keptone; slower this time. If Raquelynn understood the Sullim's words correctly, the darkness was her very soul. Somehow it was manifesting outside her body - and more so, able to feast upon the souls of others. Terrifying, and yet the ability to manifest it...

                As her body, her soul, was wrapped by Keptone's Raquelynn began to feel off. Like something was leaking out from Keptone's, and onto hers. Wherever it touched she felt a short surge of her power; like the sizzle of water as it touched a hot pan. It was odd, being aware of one's soul so greatly. The darkness of Keptone's obscuring her eyes made it even more noticeable.

                "This is how Sullim are supposed to be made," said Keptone, "yet part of my soul was eaten by 'accident' and I was left incomplete. Whole Sullim need not feed; yet I must, or I will slowly become nothing; a null. A mindless, hungering soul scarcely bound to flesh that it drags around so that it may feed." Keptone sounded remarkably bitter.

                Focusing her power, Raquelynn let it gently glow outwards. It was not a purging flame like the one she had instinctively used before; instead it was a gentle touch. Keptone seemed to inch away as Raquelynn did so, but she quickly restored her tight wrapping of Raquelynn.

                "Is this what you wanted to test?" asked Keptone. "That you could touch, without destroying?"

                "Yes," said Raquelynn. "This is enough." Raquelynn's sight was quickly restored as the Sullim's soul retreated back into her body.

                "So, priestess, will you release me now?" asked Keptone. "Does your god demand that you be good and moral?

                "Not in the slightest," said Raquelynn, with an amused smile. "But I like to anyway. I will let you go; but I have a proposal for you first." Raquelynn released Keptone. Rather than flee the Sullim stood there rubbing her wrists, waiting for Raquelynn to continue. "Come with me to the Great Temple. I think that - perhaps - you will be able to have your soul repaired with the Inferno's fire. Thinking about you manifesting your soul when it's imbued with fire... The potential is impressive."

                Keptone laughed, and laughed, for almost a minute. "That will not work," she said. "Your god's fire will destroy me!"

                "It didn't destroy me because the Inferno willed such. But it could have - much as I burned bright to stop your attack. I have watched it happen - an unworthy priestess was rejected, her soul burnt to nothing and her body left as an empty husk. If the fire can destroy any soul, it makes sense that it might be able to merge with any as well."

                "Hmph," said Keptone. "If you can promise my safety I shall consider it."

                "According to the laws we are to follow, the worst - and only - fate that awaits you is banishment; for the safety of those who follow the Inferno," replied Raquelynn. "Your decision?"

                "I will come with you," said Keptone. "But first, allow me to get a few of my things. You may wait here."

                Raquelynn smiled. "Of course," she said, watching as the Sullim made her way out of the room. As she moved her walk seemed to slowly regain its grace. It was kind of weird.

The Room

The Room

                Henry had been afraid of the room ever since she was very young. Her parents had told her stories about it - how the criminals in their society were placed within the room to await their fate. On every twelfth day at four hours in the afternoon the room would be cleansed in a great beam of light. All those locked within would be destroyed instantly; judged wanting by the god of justice himself, Maria.

                Or so Henry's parents had said. Apart from the destruction of whatever was within the room there was no evidence that Maria existed, let alone the other gods. Most were fairly critical of the old legends without any consequence - and even about Maria himself. This doubt didn't translate into not making use of the room, though. Those who committed crimes against the town were thrown into the room to await their fate. If they were lucky, they were exonerated before the beam came. There were quite a few stories of those who were freed at the last moment - or not quite soon enough.

                "How much longer do you think we have left?" asked the only other current occupant of the room, Tina. The comment dragged Henry back to the now - the two of them, locked in the room and waiting their fate. It would be painless, at least.

                "Not long," replied Henry. She rubbed her eyes gently, and took another look around the room. It was the same as ever - a six metre cube with an impregnable door on the west wall and a small hole in the north wall. The room was cut right out of the rocky mountainside - there were no joins in the walls, and the door slab looked like it had been cut from the very door frame it sat it. With the door heavily barred on the other side, there was absolutely no escape.

                "You know, we're the only ones in here..." began Tina.

                "Nope," said Henry. "I'd rather not hear giggling from outside. There'll be kids peeking in the hole right now - there always are." Henry had done it herself when she wasn't much younger. About eleven years ago, she thought. The room had fallen out of use in the past ten years - a well-spoken visitor from a neighbouring town had convinced them that twelve days was a little quick to mete out justice, and that death wasn't a good answer for minor crimes.

                Only major crimes, like those committed by Henry and Tina, qualified for death any more. Not that she'd actually done anything - it was the law of 'closest associate' that had got her and Tina sentenced to death.

                Due mostly to her own laziness, a few days ago Henry had been late walking out to her work. She'd run into Tina, who had been doing his morning post round, on the way and they'd briefly chatted before being interrupted by a stranger. The stranger had been a tall woman - Henry hadn't even caught her name - who'd asked about the mountain to the north. Locally it was called the 'Eye of Justice'; supposedly Maria lived atop it.

                "You have my thanks." The last words the woman said before she'd nodded and set off towards the mountain had lodged themselves in Henry's head. It was something about the way she said it - like Henry had just done a proper good deed.

                That good deed hadn't exactly had a good result. Several of the townsfolk had been found dead a little bit north of town the very next day. They'd been killed with a sword - a rarity in town, but exactly the weapon the stranger had been carrying. Given that the townsfolk in question were fond of banditry (something perfectly fine to do to wandering strangers according to town law) the constabulary quickly put two and two together and pegged the crime on the stranger.

                'Justice' came for Henry and Tina a couple of days later, tossing them in the room together to await their fate. Several others had seen the stranger, of course, but only Henry and Tina had foolishly admitted to talking to her. Given that all others to admit as much would be judged as 'equal associates' others coming forward would merely result in more deaths.

                Awful, idiotic laws, thought Henry. But better than the bearshit insanity of the past. In her father's day anything worse than a petty crime had a penalty of being kept in the room; sometimes for less than twelve days - which had given rise to waves of crime on particular days. The stories Henry had heard made it sound like good drama, but horrible justice. The association law had been worse as well - on quite a few occasions the only witness to a crime had been held accountable.

                "Why'd that skull-lick have to kill them?" muttered Tina angrily.

                "They almost certainly attacked her first," said Henry. She ran a hand through her short-cut hair, leaving a few bits of it sticking up. "Can't blame her for defending herself."

                "But why kill them? Why not just teach them a lesson? They were obviously no match for her," continued Tina. She was right about the fight - no trace of blood or anything else belonging to whoever killed the townsfolk had been found.

                Henry shrugged. She didn't feel like talking about their impending doom. She didn't feel like talking at all. Dying while at peace felt right, better than dying in a panic or hysterical. There'd be scarce a flutter in her heart when the light came.

                "I don't want to die," said Tina. "I don't want to fucking die!"

                "I know you voted against the second overhaul," said Henry.

                Tina looked at her angrily. "And that means I deserve this?"

                "No, it means you should've thought it through better. It's also ironic - dying according to the silly traditions you voted to keep is, I mean," said Henry. She wriggled against the wall. Even she hadn't thought much of the second overhaul not going through - the first had minimised the number of executions, and the tweaks had helped as well. Voting for it had been obvious, though. Killing people who don't deserve it just because it was tradition had been obviously silly.

                Tina huffed and dropped his head back against the wall. "Fine, I was wrong," he said. "Maybe. There were so many changes..." Henry gave him a look that prompted him to add "That I didn't read them."

                "I don't think many did," replied Henry. "It was a lot of stuff to take it. Everyone should have, though. It's important to know this stuff, at least a bit."

                Tina sighed. "Yeah, I know." He slumped down. "I'm sorry. I just, there's so much I wanted to do and now I'm, we're fucked."

                "Same. But we're going to die. Any second now." Henry felt tears lurking at the edge of  her eyes. Crap, she thought, I better not die sobbing.

                A deep breath in was Tina's response. It sounded like he was trying to calm himself for the moment they both died. "You know," he said, "I should've taken the heat for both of us."

                "I would have," said Henry, "but there were witnesses who saw us both talking. Lying about it would have gotten them the same."

                "Heh," said Tina, amused, "change might be good but we probably shouldn't push people towards lying."

                "Yeah-" began Henry, only to be cut-off as the town bell echoed in the distance. That was weird - it had to be the four past noon tolling, but the bell always rang slightly after 'justice' was carried out.

                "That's our cue to die," said Tina.

                After a few further moments of listening - mostly to make sure the bell rang four times - Henry said, "That wasn't quite morbid enough. We should be dead already."

                "Really?" asked Tina.

                "Yes," replied Henry. "The beam usually hits just before four. If they do it like the old days-"

                Suddenly a rumbling scrape came from the door, as the huge slab of stone was pulled outwards. Behind it stood two very confused looking individuals - a priest and priestess of Maria who had been tasked with reopening the door.

                "Justice be praised!" yelled one. "They have been spared!"

                Henry was clever enough to leave town before anyone realised that the stranger had broken the Eye of Justice. Later she learnt that Tina was locked until the laws changed nearly a decade later - but at least he lived. The old traditions had no alternative means of execution.

TERRORZONE

TERRORZONE

Excerpts from Dytja's 'Journal', translated somewhat poorly

                Now really, who calls a place the "Terrorzone"? Probably someone making fun of a bunch of kids. Of course, those kids grow up and tell their kids it's called the Terrorzone, and so on and so on, none ever questioning why it has such a stupid name. Mostly because to them it isn't a stupid name - it's what their parents called it, so it's fine.

                You'd need to be an outsider to see the comedy in it. Terrorzone, hah! And the way they say it, like the emphasis on the needlessly conjoined words is a necessary part of pronouncing it. "Beware of the TERRORZONE." Hahaha!

                Well, it's a change from the term that's emerged everywhere to describe the countless unliveable regions; 'blight'. The Terrorzone would probably be the 'rather large monsters' blight. Or the terror blight, since descriptive names seem to be out of vogue (huff).

                Name aside, I've got things to do here. The monsters can't leave the Terrorzone; I suspect because their biology isn't viable in this world so they're limited to a region around... Something. Initially I suspected it was a former portal, but the shape of the region is more of a cone (rather than the rough circle more common with portals) so some kind of directional device seems more likely. There's also the lack of decay - the Terrorzone hasn't been shrinking, which is a rarity for areas interfered with by portals.

                My guess is that it's located not far from the 'tip' of the cone; second guess is two or more devices in some kind of array. I'm hoping it wasn't a one off 'warp reality' zap, as reversing that is probably beyond my capabilities (even if the technology is still present). The dangers of such a thing are also... Troublesome.

***

                The Terrorzone has certainly lived up to its name, at least assuming you subscribe to the local slang for the various giant monsters as 'Terrors'. They're mostly giant versions of various animals (including some that I suspect are not natively found in this world) with minor alterations to improve structural integrity. It is a combination of these, their unnatural resilience and the effect of the device (I think...) that allows such huge creatures to exist without some form of magic being at work.

                Yes, no magic. Well, the device probably qualifies; but I mean to say that the creatures have no innate power to hold themselves together beyond normal physics in this world. My autopsies have shown as much.

                The other investigation - making sure the nature of the device is what I suspect - has not borne fruit. The creatures are too large to cut off from the field, and the largest 'chunk' I was able to work with was not large enough to be a proper sample. It did not collapse, but given that it was only roughly thirty cubic metres instead of the massive one thousand cubic metres that makes up an entire creature this was not surprising.

                I am drawing close to where I believe the device should be; likely concealed but possibly just protected from the monsters that roam the Terrorzone. Breaching from the tip of the cone was a good choice - I've killed almost a hundred of the damn creatures already. Beating a path right through this place would take more time than I care to spend here...

***

                It appears that, once again, I'm going to need to create a smoking crater. The active device was where I expected, sitting atop a rather large and impossible to scale rock. Several doors at the base of the rock lead into a laboratory and from there up to the device itself. The lab contained dorms, experimentation rooms and what I assume was a portal room - all long since empty. Like many others did, I suspect the former inhabitants left after they realised that the portals would soon be cut off. As I, perhaps, should have done myself...

                Now, the immediate question for anyone who somehow reads my journal might be 'why would they leave the device on if they left?' Perhaps the wiser will ask, 'why is their lab not in the centre, where the monsters - obviously a defence - are guarding best?' The answer is sadly this: the device does not enable the existence of the creatures. Instead the device attracts them, keeping them contained.

                So far as I can tell, the creatures are limited to a region around the portal these intruders came from - but this region, even now, is far larger than the Terrorzone. The device attracts the creatures, causing them to remain close. When set to its normal mode, the Terrorzone would be a large circular area around the lab; but it has been left in a directional 'point-defence' mode (likely deliberately, in case someone like myself should wander through).

                Turning off the device would be catastrophic. Through whatever bizarre means they use to support their ecosystem (I have no clue how so many giant monsters live in such close proximity to one another) the creatures have reached swarm level numbers. After 'escaping' the zone they'd easily destroy everything, probably right up to the limits of the portal's effect.

                My plan - my somewhat terrible plan - is to engage the 'focused defence' mode, which will draw all the creatures in close around the lab. This should restrict the Terrozone to a small circle around the lab - small enough that even the current 'near' edge is outside of the new zone.

                Then, once all the creatures have arrived (this should not take long - the draw to remain within the devices area seems to be overwhelming, as creatures chasing prey will cease chasing at the border without fail) I'll blow the entire place up, leaving a smoking crater just slightly bigger than the defence area. Stupid weapons of mass destruction to the rescue again. With the frequency stuff like this happens, I'm kind of glad I collect the ones I can carry, instead of destroying them.

***

                Boom. Well, not quite. I went with the 'white fade' terraforming device that converts a very large area (sixty kilometre radius on this one) into a flat, empty plain. A flat, empty plain fertilised with mulched giant monster, tree, and all the rocks that were formerly underground.

                The 'Terrorzone' is no more, although it'll probably be a little while before the locals believe it. I'm sure some adventurous sod has already breached the border - it took a few weeks to lure all of the creatures in. Perhaps a rumour will quickly take hold, perhaps not. Most of the former zone is quite fertile territory, apart from the bit I destroyed with the white fade. That bit...

                One of the ... issues with the white fade devices in this world is that they don't mulch very well. You wind up with chunks the size of maybe half a finger? So the new 'ground' is about 3% lumps of giant monster, and that stuff's rotting already. It smells like death. I'm sure it's going to kill everything near the edge pretty quickly; probably in a catastrophic gas explosion. Actually, I've never checked whether rotten gases or any other kind explode in this world. Huh.

                That's it for this little adventure. Although I'm sure some clever bastard, upon reading this, will wonder 'what about the eggs'. Well, the creatures all carried their young, even when it was inappropriate for what they were supposed to 'be'. So they're all dead, babies or not. They ate their cripples and weak, as well. Vicious beasties. I'm still seriously wondering how they grew so great in number; maybe the device or near portal area nourishes them?

                Bah. Sod mysteries I can't answer. I've got a couple of probably-evil empires to investigate to the north. Though seriously, Terrorzone? Hahahaha! I won't see anything beat that for a while.

Gone

Gone

                "I didn't think hole towns just disappeared," said Starla as she eyed the empty horizon. According to maps that were up to date until just a few days ago, there was meant to be a corporate settlement somewhere out there. It had been built in preparation for the construction of a mine nearby - something started in turn about a week ago.

                "It happens," said Hugh. He was in charge of the KoD's operations in Western Australia (Starla refused to think of the organisation as the Knights of Day). He was bald, tall, leanly muscular, and sitting across from Starla in the middle seats of the four-wheel drive. There was a total of six of them in the car - two more in the front and back each.

                Starla had come to WA to 'experience' operations in a different state. In truth, it was kind of a holiday - she'd been seeing the sights around the small amount of actual work there was to do. She'd jumped at the opportunity to get a look at a mining site out in the middle of nowhere - compared to an official mine tour at one of the nearby mines she'd be able to see a lot more.

                Unfortunately getting there - or near there, probably - had required a couple of days of driving. The mine site was supposed to have an airstrip; but that had disappeared along with everything else that made up the support settlement and mine. Instead of landing there, they'd taken a flight to a nearby mine and driven for a couple of days through almost completely empty land to find... Nothing.

                That was what they expected to find, of course. Contact with the burgeoning mine had been lost five days ago; and a flyover just three days ago had revealed a few bits of rubble where the settlement had been. At the time the mine's beginning had still been present, but the latest scouting had shown it almost gone as well.

                "This has happened before?" asked Starla. "Town gone, mine gone, people... gone?"

                "Pretty much," replied Hugh. "If you look at cancelled mine projects, a lot of them come down to this happening. This one we've caught pretty early, though - usually by the time we find out and come take a look there's nothing there but dirt and a buried town. This time we might catch the mine being filled in or the remaining wreckage being buried and finally learn what's doing this. As for the people... We've never found any."

                Starla felt a bit of a chill. "Are you sure it's safe to be here?" she asked.

                Hugh chuckled. "I'll assume by 'safe' you mean 'we know enough to know we won't disappear too'. And the answer is, hell no. We have no idea what we're going to find."

                "Ahh," said Starla, regretting volunteering quite a bit. She frowned.

                "Just stay on your toes and remember your mental-reinforcement training. You'll be fine."

                It took another twenty minutes of driving around before they spotted a few pieces of wreckage up ahead. A few chunks of construction material were poking out of a hill of loose dirt up ahead; it looked as if something had been attempting to bury them without any clue about what they were doing.

                "Whatever we're after isn't a genius," remarked the driver. Her name was Yulia, after her Russian grandmother, although she resembled and was more closely related to the family that made up much of the KoD. Her light brown hair was tied up in a tight bun.

                "Some kind of... natural force or backlash, maybe?" suggested her passenger. His name was Steve, and he was Yulia's twin. Oddly enough, his looks were slightly less standard for their family - black hair and brown eyes.

                "Sounds a bit too... 'what we want to be true' to me," said Hugh. "The stuff we deal with usually doesn't come from human ideals of 'nature' or anything else."

                "Mmm," muttered Steve. Yulia pulled the car up alongside the mound and the car quickly emptied out as all on board disembarked.

                Most of the party - Steve, Hugh, and the two others who'd been in the back - wandered over to the mound. Starla hovered around the car, taking the terrain in, and Yulia popped open the trunk of the car. After a good long look Starla decided to find out what Yulia was up to.

                "What are you up to?" asked Starla.

                "Checking something," said Yulia. "I heard a couple of funny noises, and I thought it might be the engine." She closed the trunk and added, "It's not, though. Probably something stuck underneath."

                "You're a mechanic as well?" asked Starla, as Yulia dropped to the ground.

                "I'm the mechanic," said Yulia. "One of the field mechanics." Yulia wriggled under the car a little. "And here is the problem."

                "What is -AAAH!" yelped Starla, as Yulia tossed a snake out from underneath the car. It was obviously dead - it had nearly been torn in two - but it shocked Starla pretty badly.

                Yulia chuckled as she wriggled back out. "Hahaha, that was great," she said as she stood up. "I've got to buy a rubber snake so I can do that again." Starla saw her eyes swap focus in the direction of the mound. "Back so soon?"

                "There wasn't much to see," replied Hugh. Starla turned around - the rest of the group was back already. "It does look like whatever is responsible is either small and numerous or capable of finesse - probably the former, as the latter wouldn't be so haphazard."

                "A... Huh..." muttered Starla.

                "Where to next?" asked Yulia.

                "North-East to the mine," said Hugh.

                "Hopefully we'll see something more interesting there," added Steve.

                There was a murmur of agreement from the other investigator-type - a woman called Helen. The final member of the group, Rick, didn't seem fussed; he was mostly there as a guard and to help them stay alive if they got stuck. Technically Starla's role was combat as well, despite her really being there to gawk.

                Once everyone had piled back into the car Yulia set off in the direction of the mine. They didn't head straight there - several nearby objects caught Steve or Hugh's attention as they drove about and required a look. By the time they did reach the mine the sun had almost set.

                The strip mine had only been quite small when the incident occurred; barely ten metres deep and only two hundred across. Now it was mostly filled in; barely a metre at its lowest depth. A few digging vehicles poked out of the dirt, along with other remnants like fencing and what looked like a transport container.

                "Excellent," said Hugh as they pulled up nearby. "It's not filled in yet."

                "I'd like to take a closer look if we can," said Steve. "Before nightfall."

                "Quickly then," replied Hugh, opening his door.

                "What happens at nightfall?" asked Starla, confused.

                "We're pretty sure that's when the burying happens," said Helen as she dropped Hugh's seat forwards so she could exit. "We've tried doing a flyover at night but... something interferes. In the best image we have we know something is going on, at least."

                "Probably best to just stay in the car," said Rick as he followed Helen out.

                "I might just," muttered Starla. She watched the three investigators and their guard (well, Hugh seemed highly capable of both) wander towards the mine. Yulia stayed in the car - from memory, established protocol said she should in case they needed to bail quickly.

                Starla opened her door and looked out, taking in the terrain and the sunset. Apart from a few mostly-buried remnants of the support facilities the land was mostly flat and almost complete pristine Western Australian countryside. All in all, it was quite beautiful, especially in the light of sunset.

                "This is the worst bit," said Yulia, breaking Starla's reverie.

                "Huh?" asked Starla, turning around.

                "Waiting for the horror to start. Not always, but often enough that's what happens next," explained Yulia.

                "That's... really negative," said Starla. "I guess I've died a few times, though."

                "That's right, you have that... thing," said Yulia. "Do you see anything when you're dead?

                "No," said Starla. "It's like a jump in time. I could come back into a coma, I guess, but that hasn't happened yet."

                "Hm, well," said Yulia, "maybe you don't have a soul or something."

                "Uh," said Starla, startled, "sure." She turned back to the sunset - the sun was almost gone; only a sliver remaining above the horizon.

                Starla watched as it disappeared, the light changing from red, to pink, to blue. Occasionally she glanced at the investigating group. They were busy wandering around the mine site, poking the dirt from time to time and inspecting the machinery.

                About fifteen minutes later Yulia broke the silence again. "Oh, shit. Here comes trouble," she said.

                Turning and looking out in the same direction as Yulia, Starla spotted a handful of faintly glowing dots some distance away. They were a few kilometres away, but they must have been hidden somewhere - they were far closer than they could have reached unnoticed in the mostly flat terrain.

                Hugh and the others had also spotted the advancing figures and were quickly heading back to the vehicle. "Let's go take a look," he said as he reached the car.

                Once everyone had piled back in, Yulia gunned the engine and drove them closer to the figures. After they got a bit closer Starla realised they were people; and also that everyone else had been able to tell immediately. It made her feel a little embarrassed.

                The people wore damaged and torn working clothes, for the most part, although some seemed more like support staff. A handful wore suits; probably executives who had been inspecting the mine. Starla realised that there was a lot more of them around now than when she had initially looked. They'd definitely emerged from somewhere.

                Yulia stopped the car a couple of hundred metres from the nearest figures. Hugh lowered his window and poked his head out, as did Helen and Steve. "That's interesting," said Hugh. "They seem to be moving to go around the car."

                "How's that odd?" asked Rick from the back.

                "I expected them to try to bury us," said Hugh. "Maybe the car isn't part of what they're trying to get rid of?"

                "Or we're outside the cleaning area," said Helen. "It seems more likely - honestly, they're treating us just like that boulder over there." Helen pointed.

                "Hmm, you're probably closer to the mark," said Hugh. "Yulia, take us a bit closer. If they start coming towards us bail."

                "You don't want to hop out and touch them?" asked Yulia, gently accelerating the car up to a crawl.

                "Touch the glowing people? No, not at all," said Hugh. "I might throw something at them, but I'm sure as hell not touching them."

                Under Yulia's guidance the car drove close - far too close for Starla's comfort - to one of the people. It was a man in a suit. He looked tired and worn out, yet he moved with a steady and tireless pace that implied he could work for hours. Others, not much further away, seemed the same. The man's lips were moving slowly, as if he was mumbling something.

                "He's saying something," said Steve. "Can we get a little closer?"

                Yulia started turning the car, but Hugh forcefully said, "No!" Quieter he added, "Just listen careful. Yulia, kill the engine for a moment." Yulia immediately complied.

                Rick, Helen and Hugh all leaned out the windows and cupped their ears, trying to pick up what the man was saying. "We must... something... have broken?" said Steve half-heartedly.

                "We must fix what we have broken," said Helen. "Then he said 'it must be restored'. It really does sound like they're trying to reverse the changes - but it's still a bit weird that they're doing such a poor job."

                "Maybe they only care about the surface?" said Steve. "Something like skin-deep beauty on a planetary scale?"

                "Or a park," said Helen. "No, a garden. Pretty to look at."

                "It is beautiful out here," said Starla.

                "So whatever is responsible has a decent sense of aesthetics," said Hugh. "Rick, Starla: grab cameras and start recording. We really need some footage of this."

                "Okay," said Starla. Rick gave some form of affirmative as well, although she didn't quite catch it. She rifled through the back of the seat in front of her and pulled out the camera she'd been issued. It was a cheap but effective model - the KoD tended to buy a lot of surveillance and other equipment, so it had probably been bought at wholesale price, too.

                After a bit of fiddling to get the image capture right in the low light conditions Starla tapped record and pointed the camera at the nearest person. "Get a bit of footage of them walking around - multiple figures if possible - then a little bit of each of them," instructed Hugh. Starla complied, finding a few nice clumps to record all at once. Well, she thought they were nice. She'd been told that she didn't really have a good eye for it when she was learning how to use the cameras.

                Fifteen minutes passed. The people walked past the car, ignoring it completely, and began to reach the mine site. Hugh and Steve began matching up the people walking past to the missing; while Helen worked on rigging up a microphone to a tent-pole to allow them to 'safely' record what the people were saying.

                Once the last of the glowing crowd had moved past the car Hugh said, "Alright, drive us over to the mine. Starla and Rick keep recording; some shots of them working will be very useful." Yulia turned the car around and soon had them zooming back towards the mine site.

                "I wonder how intelligently they're working?" said Helen, a little quietly.

                "Probably not very," said Steve. "You saw the site."

                "True, true. But are they using tools? I can't see how they dismantled the buildings without use of machinery, either."

                "We're five seconds away, guys, save the pondering for when we get there," said Hugh.

                "Oh, fine," said Helen good-naturedly. "I was just having a bit of fun."

                The investigators went quiet, peering out the car windows at the nearby people as Yulia drove them back to the mine. While they approached a couple of figures disappeared into the mine hole; when they were closer enough to see inside the group saw that they were shifting dirt to cover the exposed machines. Other figures headed off towards the remaining rubble of the support buildings.

                Yulia parked the car a short distance from the lip of the mine; away from the piles of dirt that still other figures were approaching. "This good enough?" she asked.

                "Perfect," said Hugh. "We can work from up here. Alright: you can get out if you want to take a closer look, but stay away from them. Rick, I'd like to check something I saw you capture - a couple of things actually - if you'd like to pass your camera forward."

                "Sure, here," said Rick. He passed the camera forward to Hugh.

                "Can I get past, Hugh? I want to try this recording rig," said Helen, waving her make-shift recording pole.

                "Alright," said Hugh, shuffling over to the middle of the middle. He'd already started fiddling with the camera, rewinding it back to their earlier observations.

                Helen dropped the seat forwards and hopped out of the car just as Hugh said, "Aha!"

                "What did you find?" asked Helen. Starla was also curious - she turned away from her recording to take a peek.

                "When they get close together the glow seems to reach out to meet up," said Hugh. "And while we were driving we got a bit close to one of them - the glow reached towards the car as well."

                "Huh," said Steve and Helen simultaneously. They chuckled a bit, then Helen said, "Some kind of contagion?"

                "Probably," said Hugh. "Stay the hell away from them - actually, scrap the boom pole. I don't want to find out that it can jump through objects the hard way."

                "It'd go through the ground just as easily, Hugh," said Helen. "Then again..."

                "Not worth the risk," said Hugh.

                "It could end up working like a lightning rod," said Steve. "That'd... do it."

                With a sigh, Helen lowered her tool. "Oh well," she said, "wasted time beats mind control."

                Helen hopped back in the car. "So, do you reckon that's how this spread?" she asked. "Someone catches it, then it jumps between them as they try to stop people doing strange things? It seems unlikely, even if their initial impulse was to spread the... glow."

                "Yes," said Hugh. "It's more likely that either some force applied it to all or most of them at once; or an outside entity was the source of the spread. We can't - and shouldn't try to - confirm whether it spreads through close proximity or touch, too. More observation is necessary - and the next time this happens, some kind of capture and isolation equipment."

                "So..." said Starla. "What do we do now?"

                "Record as much as we can and leave. We'll probably stay until they finish - discovering where the people end up is essential," said Hugh.

                "Okay," said Starla. She returned to recording the glowing people as they worked.

                Observation continued through the night under Hugh's guidance. After a few hours Starla's arms got tired of holding up the camera; though luckily Steve was eager to go 'get a bit closer' and gave her a break. Yulia gave her a bit of a dirty look when Steve borrowed the camera, although she stopped when Steve mentioned that he was just 'borrowing it'.

                Staying up all night was something Starla was far better prepared for. Partly because she'd done it a few times before for far less important reasons, but mostly through training. As she recorded she reflected on precisely how much training she had done and how much more there was to go. Since she was a 'specialist' and always active member of the KoD she was expected to be capable in far too many areas.

                I've got a lot of things to complain about, Starla thought, but not much of it matters. She hadn't signed up for her own entertainment. She was in it to help; and do what no-one else could do. Not safely, at least. Death was pretty hard to come back from for most people.

                Although Starla had her reflections and a bit of camaraderie to keep her entertained, the night passed slowly. The worrisome mystery of the faintly glowing, mind-controlled or worse people faded through observation. Yes, they were absolutely not normal, but you could only watch them lift piles of dirt and move it from one spot to another so many times before you got bored.

                The investigators, at least, were endlessly fascinated; capturing and sharing odd moments on camera, or recording faint mutterings that supported one theory or another. Most muttered something to do with restoration, although a handful focused on their 'duty' or 'purpose' instead. Some of the things said were incredibly creepy - 'Reveal the true earth', 'Unmake what is out of place' and 'I must do this, I must do this' among Helen's favourites.

                Early in the morning - about half an hour before dawn - a burst of chatter broke the sleepy silence the group had drifted into. Starla quickly caught on to what had everyone a bit excited - the diggers had just finished piling in the last of the dirt, and had starting leaving the mine site.

                "Follow them," ordered Hugh as the investigators and Rick piled back into the car. Starla trained her camera on them as Yulia tailed the slowly moving crowd.

                "This is pretty much what they did when they came here," said Starla.

                "Except now we get to see where they're going," said Steve. "And possibly more, since they've finished." Excitement bled into his voice.

                "Hopefully," said Hugh. "Tail them pretty closely, Yulia - I don't want to miss them."

                About five kilometres out from the mine site the people slowed down and began forming a circle. Not an empty one - they formed a solid, though circular, mass. "This is interesting," said Hugh.

                The glow on each person started to shine a little brighter, stretching to their neighbours and quickly forming a single glowing mass. Yulia pulled the car to a stop about a hundred metres from the people.

                "Be ready to bail," said Hugh. "I don't like the look of this."

                The glow around the people intensified slowly. After about ten minutes it became hard to look at; after about fifteen it was as bright as the car's headlights.

                "Alright, let's back up a bit," said Hugh. "I don't want to be too close if they expl-"

                Before Hugh could finish his sentence there was a sudden thunderous crack and the glow inverted itself into pure darkness that completely obscured the crowd. Tendrils of darkness shot out from the centre like lightning, twisting across the ground. To Starla's eye none of the tendrils seemed to reach past a certain point - a point the car's passenger seat was ever so slightly over.

                Less than a second after they began one of the tendrils stabbed through the car and right into Steve. Yulia was already hammering the reverse; and the rest of a second later the tendrils stopped as Steve screamed.

                Starla stared at him in shock as black waves of - of whatever had just shot out from the crowd consumed him, dissolving flesh, bone and clothing into a mess of fluid. From time to time it seemed to eat part of the seating as well - but it didn't spread to there.

                "STEEEEEVE!" yelled Yulia, although she didn't attempt to touch him. The car tore backwards; Yulia apparently intent on getting them as far away from the horror as possible.

                It took about fifteen seconds for Steve to be fully consumed by the darkness. Left behind was a messy mix of everything that had been Steve - his blood and liquefied organs, given some weight by powdered bone.

                "Fuck," said Hugh, summarising everything quite nicely.

                Cleaning up what remained of Steve a couple of hours later somehow became Starla's job. Hugh and Helen were busy examining the remnants of the former mine workers and support staff (what had happened to Steve had happened to them as well); Rick was guarding them. Yulia was distraught and wandering nearby; crying and drinking from a bottle of whiskey Rick had hidden in his luggage.

                So it was Starla who had to scrape the seat clean, carefully wash and then bleach it, all the while being very thankful that it was made of leather and barely any of the damage had gotten through the seat cover (the seat cover was a write off). The smell was just as bad as the goop - and the smell brought almost every fly in the vicinity tearing over to have a nibble. It was incredibly gross. Though at least her disgust at the task enabled her to avoid thinking of Steve. The KoD... Really didn't have a very good survival rate.

                After lunch Starla took the first driving shift, getting them on the way back to the airport they'd travelled from. The mind-controlled people were dead and mush, and a horde of flies had come from kilometres around to devour their remains. Hugh suggested that the smell was a deliberate side-effect to summon the flies, and reminded the group of the mantra about mind-controlled in an unknown fashion or otherwise turned people - they're already dead, and discovering a way to save them is a miracle.

                It didn't help take away the sting of Steve's death, though. Nor the smell that had refused to leave the passenger seat.