Pain.

Mojo screamed as he felt the teeth clamp down around his leg, shattering his thigh. The water fill his lungs as the jagged, dirty claws of the beast raked across his ribs. Somewhere, the gun slipped out of his hands and he knew all was lost, though he wasn't sure whether he'd been planning on using the gun on the creature or on himself.

Deeper it pulled him into the swamp, into the filth and the muck. His right arm twisted badly behind him and he could taste his own blood in the water. Everything was dark except for the pale pupils of two great glassy dead eyes, the eyes of the swamp creature, the thing that was going to kill him.

After everything else he had been through, now he was going to get eaten by a giant fish. It was just like his luck.

A ripple passed through the water. The white pupils dilated, and the thing's jaws went limp. For a moment, Mojo was uncertain what to do; he'd expected to die. Self-preservation kicked in and he clawed for the surface, kicking with one leg as the other was so badly wounded he couldn't even feel it. He wrapped his arms around a thick log, a fallen tree nearly consumed by moss and rot. The wood was soft and smelled horrible, but it was solid and he held tight to it as his head broke the surface. Mojo vomited stagnant water and gasped for breath but at least he was alive.

The swamp was dark now, night time. Mojo could see nothing, not even his hands before his face. And then a light rose, a crystal blue sphere hovering over an island a dozen feet away. A tall, thick-shouldered figure stood beneath it, waiting, silhouetted in blue. Mojo was wary but didn't have much choice; he could feel his strength draining away from exhaustion, lack of air, and blood loss. He swam for the island, clumsily treading water as best he could. Climbing weakly up onto the bank, Mojo collapsed with barely enough strength left to breathe. He lay limp on one side, continuing to cough up water.

"Extraordinary," said a slightly accented voice. The dark silhouette leaned over him, regarding him curiously.

"You," Mojo said, narrowing his eyes up at the man. "Teika, the Oracle."

"Correct," the Oracle replied. The blue light floated down beside his shoulder to illuminate his face. His expression was bland, calculating the worth of the figure that lay before him. "And you are every bit as extraordinary as I would have expected."

"What do you mean?" Mojo asked. "What are you talking about? What do you want with Sumi?"

"Sumi?" Teika replied. "Nothing, nothing at all. Sumi was merely a means to an end. A dangerous one, at that. Oracles are not meant to mix in the destiny of Thunders. Leads to easily to interference with history, and interference is death for my kind." The Oracle wove one hand over Mojo's hand and spoke a single word, "Amend."

Mojo felt the shattered bones of his leg knit and the bloody slashes across his chest heal. In moments, his strength had returned. Though his armor was still battered and bloody, Mojo was whole once more. He rose to a sitting position, regarding the Oracle with undisguised suspicion. "You're playing some kind of game here," Mojo said. "Give me a straight answer or Oracle or not I'll push you into the swamp to feed that monster." "I killed the Sanshu Denki," Teika replied mildly.

Mojo glanced back at the swamp. In the pale light radiated by Teika's magic, he could see the great body of the beast floating in the water, pale belly exposed to the sky and massive bloody maw gaping in rigor mortis. "I thought you only used your powers in self defense," Mojo replied.

"Indeed, you are correct, Shiba," Teika nodded. "A part of myself was in danger and so I acted to save it. And here you are. All mortals may have one question of an Oracle, and their answer will be truth. I suspect you would like that answer now?"

Mojo looked back at Teika. The yojimbo's pale eyes clouded with doubt. "You know, don't you. You know what's happening to me?"

The Oracle nodded. "While you were bound in Bayushi's Labyrinth, Oni no Akeru took your name for his own. Unlike most oni, he can take not one name but many so long as those names are taken from people of great willpower or strength of character. He collects them and puts them to his own use or gives them to others, while the life and personality of those he has taken slowly fade away. That is why you have been so uncharacteristically dour and thoughtful of late, Shiba. The oni is stealing away your soul."

"How do you know about--" Mojo stopped in mid-question, realizing how foolish his words were when addressing an Oracle. He paused a moment, choosing his response more carefully. "What do I do?" he asked. "Why have you come to help me?"

"The existence of the Oracles is in a state of imbalance," Teika replied. "Ever there have been only nine Oracles, four Oracles of Light, four Oracles of the Dark, and one Oracle of the Void that is neither good nor evil yet brings balance to both. Of the current Oracles, the light are too new to realize it and the Dark cannot be bothered to care. The source of the imbalance is the dark tsukai, Yogo Ishak, and his minion, Akeru. One century ago, Yogo Ishak captured the Oracle of the Void seeking to take that power for his own. He succeeded, through the compliance of the Void Oni, Akeru. Yogo Ishak became the first and only Dark Oracle of the Void, and Akeru's power was multiplied a thousand fold. The Light Oracles of Void have been able to stymie Ishak's increase in power by becoming Nameless Ones, immune to the Taint of the Shadowlands and thus resistant to the Oni's gradual drawing out of their souls. Now, that is not an option. Ishak knows that the a source of ultimate power is near and now cares for nothing save himself. He grows mad with power. The other Oracles have begun to wither; no longer are they immortal. As we die, no more Oracles are replaced. No doubt many may think this is caused by unrest in Jigoku or Yoma, but in truth it is as simple as Ishak's unbounded greed in his search for the Oni's Eye."

"I didn't understand a word of that," Mojo replied.

Teika nodded. "I realize it is complicated," he said. "I will explain it to you again in time. Suffice it to say that you, like myself, are bound to Akeru. With your help, I shall be able to triangulate his position in order to find and destroy him. Together, we might yet restore the Oracles to balance and save your soul as well. Does that make sense, Shiba?" Teika watched the yojimbo seriously, his strange eyes cold and hard.

"I guess it does," Mojo said. "Yeah, in a way, it does."

"Will you help me, then, Shiba?" Teika asked. "If we are successful, it shall be your own soul that shall be saved."

"Do I have a choice?" Mojo asked.

"No," Teika said. "I suppose that you do not."

"That's what I thought," Mojo said, nodding sadly. "Then, I'm with you." "Good," the Oracle said. "Now let's find our way out of this accursed swamp."

I am Yashin, I am Ambition.

Daikua's Isle is crowded today. The island had been hastily constructed during the occupation of Otosan Uchi, used as a base of operations against the hordes of Akuma for the eventual retaking of the city. Now, it was a sacred place to the Imperial Family. Yoritomo II had been coronated there. Now, the Emperor's justice is carried out here. The blood of the Kuni Witches covers the dais upon which the Emperor stands. A katana gleams in Yoritomo's hands. A small man with ragged black hair kneels, bound to the ground by chains of jade. Though he is a captive, his shoulders are straight. He faces his death proudly.

"Your worth has been weighed by the Son of Storms," Yoritomo II pronounces boldly, so that the whole crowd can hear. "You have been found wanting. You are guilty of crimes against the Empire, collaborating with the Hacharui, the foul Betrayer that took the city of Otosan Uchi. Have you any last words to cleanse your dishonor before your sentence is carried out, Kuni Shikogu?"

"Only this," Shikogu says. His eyes are clear as they met the Emperor's. "You are cursed. For this act of violence and evil in the name of good, you and your blood are cursed. Violence shall breed violence in all who bear your name, until the blood of Shinsei rises to smite your line down."

The Emperor pauses for a single moment. He can feel the power of the curse laid upon his soul. He knows that the Kuni's words are no idle threat. "Take it off," he whispers, so that the crowd cannot hear. "I order you, take off the curse you have given me."

"I have not given this curse to you," Shikogu says. "You have given it to yourself. Take it off yourself."

The Emperor's sword swings freely in anger, and Shikogu's head is taken from his shoulders. The condemned man's blood seeps down into the artificial island, through the wood and rubber and steel, mingling with the blood of the other innocents slain for the cause of justice. The blood reaches the bay, mixing with the waters there. Eventually, they mix with a fine silver dust, too fine to be seen by the human eye. The dust glows at the touch of the blood, and moves freely to seek its own, bundling into a mass of blood and metal, sinking to the bottom of Golden Sun Bay.

It all comes to rest beside a sword's hilt, covered in seaweed and corrupted by the saltwater. My pieces come to rest, given new power by the blood of the Yoritomo curse.

And I wait.

"I am Zul Rashid ibn Al Kassir!" the khadi shouted before the doors of the tower. The black-robed wizard pulled the long scarf away from his face, revealing the face he had kept so long hidden. The features were sharp and angular as in the way of his people, but they were not the features of his father. "Or should I say Zul Rashid ibn Al Ashijun?" he called out, his voice echoing through the streets of Medinaat-al-Salaam. A few merchants and travelers turned an eye toward the ranting man, but quickly turned away and hurried about their business when they saw the robes and dagger he bore. No wise man meddled in the affairs of the Heartless.

The great iron doors at the base of the tower opened and a large, dark-skinned figure stepped out. It wore only a loincloth and its legs ended in splayed toes like a camel's. Its mouth was a trap of sharpened red fangs and a pair of curving horns spread from its temples to point down toward Rashid. It narrowed a pair of bright white eyes at him and tightened a hand on the hilt of its brass sabre. "Go away," it said. "You have a special place among us, Rashid, and we would not spill your blood."

"I might spill yours if you do not step aside, Jinn of the Dark Hour," Rashid snapped.

The jinn ignored his outburst, a small smile twisting the ends of his jagged mouth. "The words of the Phoenix outsider have clearly twisted your mind, boy. Go and think upon the truth that lies within your heart, and let us do what must be done. We shall deal righteously with this Isawa Neiko. If you do not interfere, you shall again be welcome in your true father's presence."

"Kassir is not my father," Rashid replied. "You will take his side before mine, jinn? After all we have been through?"

"Be that as it may," the jinn said, "my charge is explicit. I may not let you pass."

"I will kill you if I must," Rashid said.

"Without magic?" the jinn replied. "I think not."

"I am sorry, Jinn of the Dark Hour," Rashid said. He held one hand out to his side, and a sparkling scimitar of pure lightning appeared.

For an instant, a flicker of fear appeared in the jinn's eyes, and then he laughed. "You are as creative as always, boy," it said, hefting its own brass sword in both hands. The blade was as long as a small tree and so heavy three men could not lift it. "Already you have learned the magic of the Rokugani?"

"I am Rokugani," Rashid said.

The two charged at one another. The duel was swift and deadly. The blades did not clash against one another, for the lightning would have melted the brass and killed both combatants. No, this was rather a contest of speed and daring than of strength. And when it was done, and done with one savage, tearing cut, the Jinn of the Dark Hour was no more. Rashid knelt over the sparkling motes of fraying magic that had once been his friend, and he prayed for forgiveness to whatever gods might still be listening.

And in the depths of the tower, he heard laughter.

"Are you too much of a coward to face me yourself, murderer?" Rashid shouted. "Has kidnapping children and murdering peasants grown so tedious a task for you that you must enslave others in your stead?"

Kassir's voice sounded from the tower. "Come into my home, boy," he said, "and find out for yourself."

That is what Zul Rashid did. The iron doors of the khadi tower closed heavily behind him.

Ishak strode up the steps of Gekkoshinden without a sound. His blackened robes were silent as they brushed the street. His heavy booted feet produced no noise as they trod upon the wooden stairs. When Ishak wished to be, he was as silent as death. The misty Way portal faded away behind him, no longer needed. He rose a hand and knocked once, sharply.

For a few moments, he took a casual glance at the temple's face. It was small, squat, and rather dark in color. No garden or courtyard surrounded it as they did most Rokugani temples. This place had been built long ago by the Suzume before they had adopted their evangelist ways, and thus had been intended to be very functional. It was also very peaceful, unobtrusive, and located right in the heart of the Imperial City. After the Stormbreaker rose, the temple did not remain in the hands of the Suzume for long. Peacefulness translated into discretion. Unobtrusiveness served as stealth. Location provided a base for the Stormbreaker's dark conspiracy these long decades. Though Yogo Ishak had never had reason to visit this place, he felt right at home.

"Yes?" a monk's small face peered around the edge of the door. For a moment, the little man seemed disappointed, and then the beady eyes scrutinized the Yogo without the slightest hint of fear.

Ishak chuckled to himself when he saw the man. "Koan," he said. "You aren't dead yet?"

"Not yet," Koan replied. "They're waiting for you." He held the door open and waited for the Dark Oracle to enter.

Yogo Ishak passed through the threshold of Gekkoshinden. Normally, entering the sacred grounds of a Rokugani temple would have caused him much pain, but the sanctity of this building was little more than a memory. Ishak felt nothing but a slight itch at the base of his spine. Koan closed the door and latched it shut, darting around his visitor and up a flight of stairs.

"This way," Koan said.

The dark Yogo followed Koan up the stairs to a small room on the second floor. Ishak could feel the power waiting for him behind the door. Something extraordinary was waiting. Not the Stormbreaker. Something completely unique had been created this night. He chuckled and reached for the door.

"No!" Koan said, darting in front of Ishak.

"Excuse me?" the Yogo hissed. "Interested in testing the boundaries of your immortality, ise zumi? I assure you, even if you cannot die I can certainly make eternity unpleasant for you."

"Let me open the door," Koan said, an odd intensity on his face. "I have to open the door. Just in case, you know?"

Ishak sighed, shaking his head in wonder at the lunatic Dragon. With a swift movement, he shoved the small monk to one side and opened the door. In the room beyond, two bodies lay upon the floor.

Asahina Munashi sat up where he lay prone, clutching the side of his neck with one hand. "What happened?" he said, wincing in pain. "Ishak-sama?"

"My son," the Dark Oracle chuckled, crouching near the Crane. "

"Where is Pekkle?" the old man asked, glancing around the room quickly.

"I think Pekkle is the red stain on the floor," Ishak replied.

"Damn," Munashi replied. "Advanced Pekkle spawn are supposed to be indestructible, yet they continuously manage to get themselves killed. I think Oni no Pekkle is overdue for a performance review."

"Have heart, my son," Ishak said, clapping the old man fondly on one shoulder. "At least one thing seems to have gone to plan." The Dark Oracle nodded toward the body of Yoritomo Kameru. The Porcelain Mask of Fu Leng was grafted to the boy's face and the stench of burnt flesh filled the room. Koan stood nearby, covering his mouth with grunts of disgust.

Munashi blinked in surprise. "I didn't do that," he said, glancing about the room. "Did you?"

Ishak shook his head as he rose once more. "I only just arrived," he replied. "That Dragon abomination was more powerful than I expected. He took some time to overcome." "I should hope so," Munashi replied. "He carries Togashi's genes, culled from the remnants of the Twelfth Black Scroll."

"Well, now he's just a memory," Ishak said with a small chuckle. "Along with his precious Factory."

Munashi's face fell in disappointment. "You didn't," he moaned. "I need the Factory intact."

"Bah," Ishak replied with a shrug. "Better that no one have it than the Dragons. There's always the Togashi Mountain facility. It's much larger, and with Ishan's army we should have little resistance."

"I suppose you are right," Munashi replied. The old Crane pushed himself back up to a standing position, still massaging his sore throat with one hand. He looked down at Kameru in wonder. "Who could have done this?"

"The Stormbreaker," Koan said with a small laugh. "He arrived shortly after his Royal Highness, and left shortly thereafter."

"You've seen him?" Munashi asked, turning on the ise zumi.

"Of course I've seen him," Koan replied. "I was there when he was created. How do you think I became wrapped up in this? And before you ask, no, I won't tell you who he is. For now, the secret must remain a secret."

Ishak nodded. "It was the Stormbreaker that told us the Emperor would be found here. I suppose he came to insure that the plan would be a success. I suppose his identity yet remains a mystery, even to those who serve him. Ah, well, at least the deed is done. Koan?"

Koan looked at the Dark Oracle curiously. "What do you want, Betrayer?" he asked.

"See if the Emperor lives," Ishak replied.

"Check him yourself," the ise zumi snapped, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall.

"Koan," Ishak said. He turned to face the smaller man, his black eyes becoming pools of inky darkness.

Koan sighed. "Fine," he said. "Go ahead and pull rank on me Oracle-sama. You youngsters don't have any respect." The monk pushed away from the wall and crouched down by the fallen Emperor. Placing two fingers on the young man's throat, the monk looked up at Yogo Ishak and nodded. "He's still alive."

"Extraordinary," Munashi said, a hint of sinister glee in his voice. "Just as I theorized, the power of the Mask is drawing upon Kameru's bond with Yashin. The two of them should keep the Emperor alive and in pain for quite some time."

"Not so long," Ishak said. "Koan, kill him."

Koan shrugged, drew a small knife from his pocket, and folded out the blade.

"No!" Munashi said quickly, stepping in front of the ise zumi. "You can't!"

Koan nodded and folded up the blade.

"He is a liability," Ishak said. "The seventh Yoritomo emperor must be destroyed."

Koan nodded and folded his blade out again.

"He has not yet been 'destroyed'," Munashi answered. "All of the other Yoritomo emperors died ignominiously or soiled their own names with butchery. Kameru is an innocent. Kill him now and he will simply be a martyr. We must give the mask time to do its work."

Koan put the blade away.

Ishak shook his head. "I think you are being too figurative, my son. A simple knife to the throat is what we need here."

Koan snapped out the knife.

"And I say we do not!" Munashi hissed, angry now. "Killing Kameru here and now will only create questions. We will lead our enemies directly to us."

Koan put the blade away.

"To you, perhaps," Ishak replied. "I was never foolish enough to try to hide among mortals. Your disguise is a shackle, son."

"My disguise is a weapon, father," Munashi said. "And a more effective weapon than your oracular power. How many Scorpions did it take to defeat you at the Seal? A few thousand? I control the destinies of millions of Crane and Phoenix, father, all of them willing to kill and die at my command. At the height of your power could you ever make such a claim?"

"Samurai are fickle," Ishak replied bitterly. "Do not depend too heavily upon the loyalty of others, Munashi. Dependence upon others can lead to destruction. No one knows this better than I."

"Excuse me?" Koan said, standing and looking back and forth between the two shugenja. "Could the family meeting wait for another time? I still have the entire basement to clean tonight. Do you want me to kill the Emperor or not?"

Ishak's lipless mouth tightened and he stroked his chin with one gaunt hand. "I suppose you may have a point, my son," he said. "If the Stormbreaker left the Emperor alive, he must have plans for him."

"I know I do," Munashi chuckled.

"Well, we can't send him back to the Palace," Koan said, wincing at Kameru's ruined face. "I think the Imperial Guard might notice what you guys did to his head."

"I think not," Munashi replied. "I am a master of artifice. Any construct of magic can be molded to my whims, even one as powerful as the Mask." He knelt over the unconscious Emperor and placed one hand on the porcelain mask. Speaking words of ancient magic, he invoked the dark power of the kansen within Fu Leng's Mask. Kameru moaned in pain through his unconsciousness as the form of the mask twisted and warped. A few moments later Munashi stood again, the job done.

"Clever," Ishak said. Emperor Yoritomo VII wore a simple green mempo over his eyes, nose, and cheeks. It looked no different than the mask Kameru's father had worn beneath his helmet, except for the open, cracked area around the lips and chin.

"Salvation shall come," the Emperor mumbled through his sleep, "if ye be strong enough..." His fingers reached out to brush the blue steel blade of the katana that lay beside him. "What is he mumbling about?" Ishak asked. "It sounds disturbingly familiar."

"Gibberish," Munashi replied. "Koan, wake him. I wish to see how the mask has altered his state of mind."

"I'm not your errand boy, Crane," Koan replied.

Munashi's eyes narrowed. "Koan," he said.

"Fine, fine," the monk replied with a long-suffering sigh. He knelt by Kameru and pinched a nerve at the side of his neck. Kameru's eyes flickered and slowly opened.

"My lord?" Munashi called out. "My lord, can you hear me?"

"Violence begets violence and the emperor... the emperor will pay the price..." the young man continued, oblivious to everyone around him. He rolled unto his side; a thin trickle of blood spilled from his lips to puddle upon the floor.

"What's happening to him?" Ishak asked.

"You know that magic is never an exact science, father," Munashi replied. "The Mask's power has reacted strongly to the curse Kameru already carries. His soul is bound to Jigoku now, but his mind still wanders free. I think he will have little or no control over himself now. Pity him."

Kameru's head snapped up suddenly. His eyes burned a strange green color as they met Yogo Ishak's gaze. "Hacharui," he hissed. Suddenly, Kameru stood and the blue blade was in his hand, slicing through the air where Ishak had stood. The Dark Oracle stumbled backward, wincing in pain and shock as he clutched his stomach.

Koan lunged forward, seizing both of Kameru's shoulders in a viselike grip. Munashi gestured once, sending a sphere of dark energy into the Emperor's chest. He grunted in pain and fell to his knees. "No," Munashi whispered into Kameru's ear. "We do not harm our own."

"He is not our own!" Kameru growled, his voice harsh and guttural. "He is Hacharui! He does not deserve to live!"

"Are you injured, Ishak?" Koan asked, looking up at the stunned Oracle.

Ishak rose to his feet once more, his face twisting in confusion and anger. "How did he know that?" he asked quickly. "Where did he hear that name?"

"What are you talking about?" Munashi asked.

"No one has called me 'Hacharui' since the Shadow Wars," Ishak hissed. "All that knew me by that name are dead!"

"Not all," Kameru laughed in a voice that was not his own. "No, not all, Betrayer." A moment later, Kameru's jaw dropped open in fear and shock. "Where... what is happening?" he cried. He crumpled unconscious once more, still clutching the katana tightly in one hand.

"Hmmm," Munashi said thoughtfully. "This was unexpected. Perhaps you should go, father. Your presence seems to upset him. I shall stay here and try to divine what has happened."

Ishak nodded, his black eyes full of anger. "I shall be watching this experiment of yours closely, my son," Ishak said. "When that thing slips out of your control again, expect me to be the first to destroy it."

"Indeed," Munashi said, lost in thought. "I suppose you must do what you feel is right, father."

Ishak took one last look at the fallen Emperor, turned, and left. Koan dropped Kameru's limp body and pulled himself into a chair. Munashi sat down a moment later, still watching Kameru thoughtfully.

"Well that was strange," Koan said. "What next? You have some place we can stash a crazy Emperor?"

"I do indeed," Munashi replied. "But do not jump to conclusions, Togashi Koan. Prince Kameru is not insane. No, in fact I think that he is in full possession of his mental faculties."

"Really," Koan said blandly.

"Oh, yes," the Crane replied. "His mind and soul are quite intact. However, I think that they are no longer alone."

Orin stood before the door. It wasn't a very large door. It wasn't a very impressive door. In fact, it was hardly a door at all. It was just a place on the wall where the bricks seemed to be shaped a little differently than all the rest. According to Meliko, the door led to the streets of Otosan Uchi. That made it the most intimidating door he'd ever seen in his life. Once he opened that door, there was no turning back.

Once he opened that door, the Dragon Clan's great secret was dead.

Orin looked down at the limp body he carried in his arms. Hisojo was still unconscious. Still at peace with the world, unaware of the destruction Yogo Ishak and Lord Hoshi had wrought in the factory behind them. It had taken the survivors over thirty minutes to flee through the tunnels, and they could still occasionally hear the screams of those that had been trapped behind.

"Did you have to hit him so hard, Orin?" Meliko asked, wincing down at Hisojo's face.

"I wish I hadn't hit him at all," Orin said. "If we'd have followed him, maybe the Factory would still be intact. Maybe we could have beaten Ishak."

"To Jigoku with that!" Daidoji Ishio said gruffly. "I saw the power those two were throwing at each other. No place for a mortal man in all that. Staying there would have gotten us nothing but death, Orin. You did the right thing. You saved all of these people." The big Crane gestured at the tunnels around them. Orin turned to see the soot-stained, haggard faces of the sixty or so Dragons that had followed him out of the Factory. They filled the tunnels shoulder to shoulder. There were men, women, and even a few children. Some were still dressed in the green and red robes of the Agasha or the ancient battle armor of the Mirumoto. He even saw a few Hitomi and Togashi tattooed men, distinctive for their shaven heads and bare chests. Some of them looked angry. Some of them looked hopeful. Some of them carried bundles of nemuranai weapons or personal possessions with them that they had managed to salvage in the mad dash from the Factory. All of them looked uncertain, however, and all of them looked afraid. They all were looking at Orin.

"What do we do now?" asked a young shugenja. She looked barely fifteen, and her green eyes were terrified as she stared at the door.

Orin looked at Meliko. "Is there anywhere they can go?" he asked. "Is there anywhere they can hide?"

The young ise zumi shook her head. "Not this close to the Palace," she said. "We have safe-houses, but the ones that are close enough can't possibly hide so many. Besides, they don't have any disguises and the grounds outside are crawling with Imperials and Locusts. We'll have to fight our way out."

"Hoshi," Hisojo mumbled through his unconsciousness. "Lord Hoshi, don't leave us..."

"At least the Locust are human," Ishio grumbled. "We stand a better chance fighting our way through them than going back to face that Dark Oracle. What do you think, Orin?"

Orin looked around to see the eyes of all the Dragons on him again. They were waiting for him, depending on him.

"What?" Orin asked quickly. "Why are you all asking me all of a sudden? I'm not even a Dragon! I'm not even Rokugani for Kharsis' sake!"

"Lord Hoshi chose you, Orin Wake," a wizened old ise zumi said. "I saw it myself. He came to you in the Factory. Surely he gave you a final command, a final wish for our people?"

Orin laughed. "Chose me? He didn't choose me! I was just the first to notice him!"

"Orin," Meliko whispered, gesturing to the large gaijin. He turned away from the mob of refugees and leaned close to her. She smelled sweet, like the lilacs they grew in his home country, despite their frantic run through the waterways of the Palace.

"Orin," Meliko repeated. "I know you didn't ask for this. I know you don't understand this. Still, you have to try to understand. My people - the Dragon Clan - we don't quite get reality in the way that the rest of the world does. Some things we perceive better than anyone else: destiny, heroes, apocalyptic confrontations, you know, that sort of stuff. The problem is, we tend to see everything that way. Everything is significant. Everything means something. My people are desperate, Orin. Now that Hoshi's gone, they're searching for some kind omen, some kind of sign, something that will tell them not to lose all hope. Orin, I think they want you to be that omen."

"So what you're trying to say," Orin whispered back to her. "Is that your people have an overdeveloped sense of melodrama and the only way to get them out of here alive is for me to pretend to be some sort of chosen hero."

"See?" she giggled. "I knew you'd understand."

"That's insane!" he hissed. "I'm no hero! I can't deceive them like that! What do you want me to do about Hoshi's final command? Make something up?"

"Why not?" she asked, her eyes widening in fear. "It's for their own good, and it's just for a little while. Just play the hero, Orin. You know it's the only way to save them."

"Where will I lead them?" he asked, desperate.

"I don't know," she said. "But wherever we end up, I'll be there."

"Me too, Orin," Ishio grumbled beside him, "I've got your back, friend." The Daidoji's voice was thick. "Man, this is emotional. I think I'm going to cry." Ishio turned away quickly.

"Cranes," Meliko said with a small shake of her head. "Anyway, make a decision, Orin. Will you help us or not?"

Orin looked back at them one more time. Again, every eye of every Dragon was fixed upon him. Every Agasha that clutched the final products of the broken Factory, every Mirumoto that could hold a sword, every Togashi and every Hitomi and every child huddled behind their parents' legs, everyone was waiting for him to be some kind of damned, stupid, chosen hero.

He really wished Hisojo would wake up right now.

"Well?" the old ise zumi asked, his eyes imploring. "What would you have us do, Orin Wake? What was Hoshi's final command?"

Orin met the old man's eyes evenly. "You're all going to follow me through that door," he said. "The Dragon Clan is returning to Rokugan."

In the depths of the Shrine of Okanjin, Kitsu Jurin walked with a hurried pace. A few steps ahead the old monk strode quickly but steadily. His face was blank of emotion, his eyes set on the hallway ahead. Meanwhile, Jurin's mind was racing. She nearly tripped over her feet in her hurry to reach the Chamber of the Shiryo.

"What is happening?" Argcklt asked. The zokujin loped along at her side, his yellow eyes wide and curious. "You seem agitated, Jurin-san. Is it because of what the old one said?"

Jurin nodded and kept walking. She was too nervous to speak.

Mizutoki glanced back over his shoulder. "So I am 'the old one' now, am I?" he asked with a small chuckle.

"I mean no offense," Argcklt said, bobbing his wedge-shaped head. "It is a relative term, old one. By the standards of my race, in fact, you are quite young."

"Is that so?" Mizutoki replied. "Well, I prefer Mizutoki. That is my name."

"Indeed," Argcklt nodded. "And I am Argcklt. I am well pleased to meet you, Mizutoki-san."

Mizutoki fell back a pace to regard the zokujin more carefully. "I did not know that the zokujin knew so much of Rokugani ways," he replied.

"We listen," Argcklt replied. "We have much time to listen."

The three of them stopped before a large door bound in brass and jade. Upon it was sculpted a noble lion's head, wreathed in flame. This was the symbol of the Kitsu, guardians of the shiryo, Rokugan's ancestral spirits. Their task was one of great honor, but not often envied by the other shugenja of Rokugan. The Empire had lost touch with its traditions and history in the last century, and the sodan-senzo wizards of the Kitsu had to endure much rage and confusion from the forgotten spirits.

"Are you sure it was him?" Jurin asked. "I've tried to communicate with him before, but always, nothing."

Mizutoki nodded. "Okura was not truly evil in the end; he achieved redemption after a fashion. Still, his soul had been voluntarily and inextricably bound to the Shadowlands. He has been beyond the reach of Yoma for some time. Though you carry his blood, he could not have spoken to you."

"And why has this changed?" Jurin asked.

Mizutoki shrugged. "I am not certain. Something fundamental has changed in the fabric of Jigoku. During the upheaval, his spirit was able to slip through into Ningen-do, the world of men. Sadly, like so many of the older ancestors, he is confused and disoriented. Only one of his own bloodline has the slightest chance of communicating with him."

"Why me?" Jurin asked. "Why not my father? He is much more skilled than I."

"Your father is unavailable in the current circumstances," Mizutoki replied, nodding at the candle he held in hand, the only sort of illumination available in the blackout. "Even if he were, I would not have summoned him. Kitsu Suro is an arrogant and capricious man, who profits from the enslavement of others."

"My father promised to free the zokujin," Jurin said, confused.

"That is none of my concern," Mizutoki replied. "Suro is not my concern. Okura is my concern now, helping him find peace in death. Even were your father not the man he is, he would not be a consideration. As I said, Okura has asked for you personally."

"He knows of me?" Jurin asked.

Mizutoki nodded. "You mentioned that you have tried to contact him before. Perhaps you were not as unsuccessful as you thought. Now, come, there is little time." Mizutoki handed the candle to Argcklt and turned toward the doors, grasping one great handle in either hand. He paused for a moment, gathering his strength. "Prepare yourself, Jurin," he said. "What you are about to witness is not easy to see."

With a heave, Mizutoki threw open the doors of the Chamber of the Shiryo. Within, lines of statues stood. These were very much like the statues in the larger common worship of the shrine, yet different. These were older, more weathered. Many of them lacked the name plates and offerings that identified those in the greater chamber. These were the forgotten ancestors, those whose descendants had died out, those who had lost their souls to evil, or those who had been merely forgotten. It was a sad place, and no living soul could linger there for long before the infinite depression of those ancient spirits began to weigh down upon them.

Four sodan-senzo knelt in the center of the chamber now, around an ancient marble statue wearing a tattered green mantle. This was the statue of Kitsu Okura, the fallen Jade Champion of Toturi I. The four sodan-senzo chanted softly at the statue's base, swaying back and forth slowly. A brazier of pungent incense burned at the statue's feat, raising a cloud of wispy grey smoke about the face.

"There," Mizutoki said, pointing at the smoke. "Do you see it, Jurin?"

Jurin squinted as she stared into the smoke. The sodan-senzo were trained nearly since birth to be in harmony with the universe around them. The spirit worlds always existed in tandem with the reality mortals dwelled in, and those that knew what signs to look for could see where those worlds overlapped. Jurin had no great skill in these matters, but she was able to detect a tell-tale disturbance in the smoke, a swirl of movement that no normal vapor would make. She peered closer, opening her senses to the mystical.

Jurin gasped in shock. Just within the cloud was a tortured, skeletal face. Withered limbs wrapped around a desiccated body as if huddling for warmth. The torso twisted painfully away to nothing. Two perfect eyes floated in the sockets of the spirit's skull, searching, probing, desperately seeking something. The eyes fixed upon Jurin, and a light seemed to rise behind them. The ancient skull pivoted upward, and the rotten jaw opened.

"Okura... he's...." she said, unable to find the words to describe the pain and torment she saw in the spirit.

"The centuries have not been kind," Mizutoki said softly. "Listen well to him, Jurin. The older shiryo can sometimes lose their voice."

Jurin nodded and approached the statue. She knelt at the very base, letting the smoke of the brazier drift over her as she gazed up into the cloud. The skeletal face of the spirit superimposed over the face of the statue for an instant. Jurin could see the similarities, the proud jaw, the curious eyes. This had been a man of learning once, and what he had learned had cost him dearly.

"I am here, Okura-sama," she said, bowing deeply to the spirit. "I am your grand-daughter Kitsu Jurin, and I have come."

"The powers of Jigoku, Jurin..." the spirit whispered. Its voice was low, nearly inaudible. "They center upon the Throne... The Emperor will be consumed.... The Empire will be consumed...."

"You must be confused, grandfather," Jurin said patiently. "That has already happened. Fu Leng has been defeated. It has been a thousand years now."

"NO..." Okura moaned. "Kameru... the Seventh Emperor..."

"Yoritomo?" Jurin replied quickly. "I am an Emerald Magistrate! The Imperial Guard will listen to me! Tell me what to do and I will save Yoritomo VII from harm!"

The spirit shook its head sadly. "It is... already too late... for Yoritomo Kameru," Okura said. "If he can be saved... it shall not be your destiny to do so.... Yours... is to find the words that guided him... find the Journal of Yoritomo Kenjin...."

"The first Emperor?" Jurin said, surprised. "Where will I find it? The Palace?"

"No..." Okura answered. "Seek the protector... Seek he who was given the words of the Oracles to protect them from the Shadow... Seek the Lion who is not a Lion... Seek Ikoma Genju, the noble herald of Kenjin..."

Jurin shook her head. The name seemed familiar but she was uncertain. "Genju," she repeated. "I will seek him, Okura. I will find him."

"Keep the words safe..." Okura cautioned. "Keep them... give them to the Thunders... hide them from the Emperor..."

"Hide them?" she repeated, confused.

The spirit warped and twisted, ignoring her question. Okura began to turn in upon himself. The vision began to fade.

"Grandfather?" Jurin asked, her voice pleading. "I must ask one more thing before you go."

The spirit's eyes widened and it turned to look upon her again. "Ask..."

"Why did you choose me?" she asked. "I have many brothers, sisters, and cousins here in the city. Some of them are sodan-senzo. Many are more skilled than I. Why was I chosen?"

"Jurin..." Okura said, and for the first time there seemed to be a true fondness in the tormented ghost's words. "I did not choose you... You chose me... I am forgotten, abandoned, a disgrace... But still you sought me... I do not deserve such trust, such hope... so I had decided... to give some of it back... Do not fail, Jurin..."

The spirit turned within its cloud; an instant later it was mere smoke once more. Jurin bowed her head in prayer for a few silent moments, paying her respects to the soul of the deceased. She wondered if he had returned to Jigoku, or if he had managed to pass on to Yoma after all. The worlds of the spirits could be cruel and unforgiving, but she hoped that Okura had at last found peace.

"Jurin?" Mizutoki said quietly. "Did you speak to him?"

She looked up. The other sodan-senzos all stood about, watching her. Argcklt lurked in the rear of the chamber, his yellow eyes wide. "Yes," she said. "Did none of you hear?"

"Okura did not wish us to hear," Mizutoki replied. "No doubt he was a secretive man, and death has not changed him." The old monk turned toward the doors of the chamber.

"Do you wish to hear what he told me?" she asked.

"No," Mizutoki replied. He stopped, but did not turn around to face her. "Whatever message he passed on, it was a matter of trust. Escape from Jigoku is not an easy task, Jurin. Whatever quest he gave you, it must have been one of great importance. I wish you the blessings of all the Fortunes and shiryo, but I cannot interfere." He opened the doors once more, and left. The other four sodan-senzos followed silently.

Argcklt crouched in the corner, looking at her curiously.

"Well," Jurin said. "I would like to talk further with you, Argcklt, but it suddenly seems as if I have much to do." She walked slowly toward the chamber's exit.

"Oh?" Argcklt replied. "I had been hoping you would ask me to help you find the book."

Jurin looked quickly at Argcklt, her face surprised. "You heard him?" she asked.

"We zokujin are in tune with the spirits," he said. "I keep telling you this, maybe you will listen. Now do you want help or not?"

Jurin laughed. Not for the first time, she was glad she had met the strange little creature. The enormity of Okura's request didn't seem to weigh so heavily with someone else to share it with. "Yes, Argcklt," Jurin said. "I would like your help indeed."

Ketsuen stumbled into the darkness of an empty parking garage and collapsed. With a whine of gears and crunch of metal on concrete the massive war machine managed to roll itself over onto its back, dropping its severed arm onto the pavement. The large portal on top of the robot opened with a hiss and the two Crabs crawled out, grunting and cursing. Their clothes were covered in smoke stains and their eyes were watering from the smoke that billowed out around them.

"Hida's blood!" Hayato cursed, wiping his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. "I can hardly see! Reminds me of tear gas training!"

"Eh, it wasn't so bad," Yasu said, glancing away so the scout wouldn't notice as he rapidly blinked his blood-shot eyes. "I think we can still make it back to the Kyuden."

"What?" Hayato snapped. "What are you talking about? Ketsuen can barely walk. It's missing an arm and that hole the Crane put in the cabin keeps leaking exhaust! We'll be lucky if we can make it another three blocks in that thing!"

"So, what then?" Yasu asked, his eyes sharp and angry. "Do we abandon it here? Leave the Armor of the Shadow Warrior laying in a heap while we run off with our tails between our legs?"

"I never said that," Hayato returned evenly, not flinching from the larger Crab's stare. "But we wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't been so foolish, Yasu."

"If I hadn't been so foolish," Yasu snarled, "Ketsuen would be laying in pieces in Dojicorp's fruity little circular driveway."

"Yeah, congratulations, Hida," Hayato snapped. "You bought us six blocks. Any idea how you're going to get us back the rest of the way?"

Yasu frowned at the tangled heap Ketsuen had become. "I'm not bad with machines," he said, advancing on the wreck. "Maybe I can patch it up enough to get us back to Little Jigoku. From there, maybe that Mikio guy can help us come up with something. He seemed to know his way around a garage." Yasu opened a small door on Ketsuen's back and took out a small screwdriver and a small welding torch. He crouched down at the side of the War Machine and opened a maintenance hatch just above the hips, coughing as a large cloud of white smoke exploded into his face. He cursed and waved the smoke away, leaning closer for a look at the damage.

"How does it look?" Hayato asked.

"Not good," Yasu said. The slight pause in his voice suggested that even that was an exaggeration. "She'll need all new power cells just to stand up. I don't think we're going to find those around here."

"So what then?" Hayato replied.

"Easy," Yasu answered. "We go find Akodo Daniri. Toshimo said that the Ketsuen uses a lot of Kitsu Ikimura's tech. Maybe we can borrow some spare parts or something."

Hayato whistled. "And I thought what you did against Kin'Iro was insane," the scout replied. "You're planning on going to Golden Sun? If Matsu Gohei finds out Hida Tengyu's son is in the city..."

"Then Matsu Gohei is gonna get his butt a good whupping trying to haul me in, that's what's going to happen," Yasu said harshly. He stomped over to sit on the ground next to Hayato and was quiet for a long time.

"You have a better idea, Hayato?" Yasu asked, speculative.

"To be honest, no," Hayato replied. "We're in trouble pretty much anywhere we go. If the Shinjo find two Crabs wandering around in the middle of Otosan Uchi they'll have the Imperials on us in minutes."

"I doubt it, Kameru's an old friend of mine," Yasu said dismissively.

Hayato blinked. "Really?" he said. "Since when?"

Yasu looked at the scout blankly. "Well, er," he replied. "Um. Well, we fought that big fire-oni-thing together at the Senpet Invasion, sort of. Well, I shot at it a couple times and he happened to be in the courtyard. Oh, and then there was that celebration thing his dad invited us to, remember? But I spent most of that night talking to Sumi. Hmm. Damn. I guess he doesn't know me that well, really."

"Now would be a really good time for some mysterious stranger to just walk in and offer to fix the War Machine for us, wouldn't it, Yasu?" Hayato chuckled.

They both watched the door of the garage for several moments. Nothing happened.

"Eh, don't be stupid," Yasu said. "That kind of thing only happens in cheesy action movies."

"Yeah," Hayato replied, rising to his feet with a sigh. "I guess we should go look for Daniri, eh?"

"I thought you said that idea was insane," Yasu replied.

"Well, yes, but it was just a commentary, not a criticism," the scout answered back. "If I refused every stupid idea you came up with, we'd never work together."

"Exactly," Yasu said, standing with a clank of heavy armor. "Let's go."

"The serpent writhes in the bowels of the dream, the shadow of death rises to consume all. Bloody haze. The lost are found. The old are new? Newer than old than older than new. The crow hides from the storm and no rain comes to put out the fire. The First Coming becomes the Last Coming and we can do nothing, nothing, nothing..."

The room was silent. The little man slumped in his chair, scraggly black hair spilling over his face. The room was dark, save the intense light focused on the prophet.

"DOOM!" he shouted, suddenly surging forward in his chair, his eyes intense. "DOOMDOOMDOOM!" He rocked back and forth in the wooden chair, gradually gibbering into silence.

"Is that it, Saigo?" a tall man stepped into the circle of light, casting his shadow upon the relatively tiny prophet.

"That's all that's all I swear that's all," the small man gasped, his breathing harsh.

"Are you certain?" the man pressed, "There is absolutely nothing more?"

"Certainly certain! I'm certain that I'm certain, Master Rashid!" The prophet hugged his legs to his body and buried his face to avoid the shadowy man's gaze.

Zul Rashid paused for a long moment, considering. Then he suddenly seized a handful of the prophets black hair, wrenching his face up and to attention.

"What does it mean?" he hissed.

The prophet's face twisted into a demonic snarl. "It means," he said, a low growl rising in his throat, "That you are a fool, Master of Air. It means that no matter how many warnings you're given, you'll never be able to see any further ahead than your ego will allow. It means that you abandoned your daughter because of your foolish pride and left your one true friend to twist in the wind when the Elemental Council needed you most. It means that Rokugan lies in darkness, its heroes shall be outlaws, and you will be able to do nothing to stop it. It means, Master Rashid, that your people are all going to DIE!"

Rashid took a quick step back, stunned by the look of pure maniacal evil on the young prophet's face. The boy began to laugh, a long, loud, cackling laugh that could never have originated from a human throat.

"No," Rashid said. "It wasn't my fault... I couldn't have seen... I couldn't have known... How could we have prepared for this?"

"You could have prepared," Saigo said. Black cracks began to spread across the boys face like spiderwebs. "You knew what was going on ever since you saw what your father was doing twenty years ago. You could have followed the clues. You could have hunted him out and stopped all of this. But better to blame a feeble prophet than yourself, eh, mighty khadi? You could have taken the sword..."

"The sword?" Rashid snapped. "I did take the sword! Ofushikai is in Sumi's hands!"

The cracks now covered Saigo's head and shoulders. He shook his head and smiled, the movement of muscles making tiny pieces of his face fall away to reveal a red light throbbing beneath. "You know that's not the sword I mean," he laughed.

The prophet's head split down the center and the council room seemed to split away with it. Zul Rashid found the floor torn from beneath him. He called out to the air spirits but they would not listen. He could sense they were ashamed of him, that they knew he would only fail them.

Zul Rashid fell deeper.

The smell was what had woken him up. The sickly smell of burning flesh, mated with the screams of his master. He had seen the old monk, then, standing over the fallen Emperor as that... that porcelain thing bound itself to his face. He knew that he was facing the descendant of Shinsei, but his first loyalty wasn't to Shinsei. His first loyalty was to the Emperor. In seconds, Shinden had found his weapon and drawn it on the old man.

And then he found he couldn't fire. Something in Hoshi Jack's eyes sapped away the Wasp's will. A lifetime of training, a lifetime of honing his instincts and reflexes, all gone in the instant those strange grey eyes fixed upon him.

"You do not wish to do that," Hoshi Jack had said.

"Step away from him," Shinden ordered. "Step away or I'll shoot!"

"You cannot shoot me," Jack had said, stepping back a few paces. "I have been chosen." His voice sounded sad as he turned his full attention toward the Wasp. He did not seem perturbed in the slightest by the large black pistol trained upon his chest. In an odd way, he seemed disappointed. Shinden rose to his feet and approached carefully, still a bit wobbly from the blow Togashi Koan had felled him with.

Shinden knelt by his Emperor's side, trying to work his fingers under the mask that quivered and hissed upon the man's face. The Wasp drew back his fingers with a hiss, the tips of them were bloody and gouged as if with a razor.

"What are you doing to him?" Shinden demanded. "What is that on his face?"

"I am helping him fulfill his own destiny," Jack replied. "That is my duty. As Shinsei it is my duty to see that all goes to plan. It is all about the destiny."

"Like Jigoku!" Shinden swore, aiming the pistol inches from Jack's forehead. "You're killing him!"

"Perhaps," Jack answered. "But that is not your concern, Wasp. Drop your weapon."

The gun tumbled from Shinden's hand. He stared at his empty hands in horror.

Jack hesitated for a moment. Something dark seemed to pass across his eyes. The old monk smiled, and that smile frightened Shinden even more than what lay on the floor before him.

"Return to the Palace," Jack had commanded him. "Tell them what you have seen."

Tsuruchi Shinden ducked into an alley and gasped for breath, leaning forward with his hands on his thighs. He didn't have a clue what to do next. He wasn't even sure why he was still alive. Hoshi Jack wasn't Shinsei. He was something dark and twisted and evil and he had killed the Emperor. The Wasp straightened, his gaze intense. He had to do something, but alone what could he do against the monster that was Hoshi Jack?

Shinden heard a strange sound in the street, the sound of hooves clapping against pavement. He peered around the corner of the alley carefully and to his surprise discovered his guess was correct. A squad of horse-mounted Shinjo officers rode carefully side by side, rifles in hand, searching the streets for any sign of trouble.

"The Fortunes must be smiling on me," Shinden whispered to himself. He strode out into the street, his hands held high and to his sides.

"Look out," a Unicorn said sharply, turning his weapon toward the figure that emerged from the shadows.

"Hold your fire," the leader commanded. "He's Imperial."

"Imperial?" said another. "What in Jigoku are you doing so far from the Palace?"

"You have to come with me," Shinden demanded. "I'm Tsuruchi Shinden, Captain of the Imperial Guard. The Emperor is in terrible danger. Summon whatever reinforcements you can find."

"Oh," the Unicorn commander replied mildly. "Lost, eh? Yeah, the city's become quite a mess since the blackout."

"What?" Shinden spat, confused. "That's not what I said! We have to save the Emperor!"

"Escort you back to the Palace?" the Unicorn replied. "Well, I guess we could escort you close, but the fighting is pretty ugly in that area. We're on patrol duty; we're not supposed to engage."

"What are you talking about?" Shinden screamed. "Aren't you listening to me?"

The Unicorn looked annoyed. "Yeah, I understand you just fine. First you tell us you're lost, then you ask us for help, then you scream at us about it. Listen, pal, we're not shock troopers. It's not our fault you wandered off from the Palace, so it's not our job to get you back there. We'll do what we can, okay?"

"But the Emperor!" Shinden shouted.

"Yeah, you're lost!" the Unicorn repeated, exasperated. "How many times are you going to tell us that? Shinjo's Breath, Wasp, what's wrong with you?"

Shinden's blood ran cold. The Unicorn didn't understand him. They couldn't understand him. All they could hear was what Hoshi Jack wanted them to hear. The Emperor was being destroyed by a being of pure darkness, and Tsuruchi Shinden was now the only man who knew.

And no one would believe him.

The Locust Clan had risen in a swarm over Otosan Uchi. Hundreds of men and women charged through the streets, firing automatic weapons into the air, setting buildings ablaze. Others hurled makeshift explosives or climbed through shattered windows to loot the abandoned buildings. Large half-track vehicles rumbled through the streets, the vehicles of the Locust. Until today, they had remained hidden in the tunnels of the Machine. Today they had been revealed in all their terrible glory, large, heavily armored, and completely immune to the machine-befouling power of Pestilence.

Inago Isek was at the heart of it all, and he laughed. Only a few years ago, he hadn't thought it would be possible. His name was Katsumoto then. Katsumoto was a young engineer then, a heimin with incredible skill in research and programming. He was just beginning to study the field of electromagnetic theory. The destructive potential of an electromagnetic pulse hadn't interested him, then. It was all about the science.

And then the funding had dried up. Katsumoto had stood by and watched while others who were less talented continued to thrive. Their so-called "discoveries" barely scratched the surface of what could truly be done, but gave such obsequious and sycophantic tribute to those who had come before that they had been welcomed with open arms. Katsumoto had never been so. He had told the others when they were foolish. When the great minds were wrong, he told them so to their faces. Katsumoto did not wish to make friends. He wanted to wield the fundamental powers of reality, to call upon the powers of the gods in a way that even a shugenja could only dream. They said he was "too driven." They said he was "not focused enough." Focused? He was more focused than any of them. He would be remembered forever while the rest of them were all forgotten. He didn't really care and he was glad to get away from the university when he was expelled for theft and destruction of property.

After that, he had made his living in the underworld of Rokugan for a time. The Scorpion and their ilk paid well for someone who knew their way around explosives and could keep their mouth shut. Katsumoto was quite skilled at the former and the money soon taught him the latter with great alacrity. He didn't care where the bombs went. If he thought about it, maybe it would have bothered him. He was probably killing a lot of innocent people. But then again nobody was really innocent, right?

Though he did the work dutifully, that's not to say it didn't bother him. Katsumoto knew he was above brewing chemical explosives for underworld hitmen. He was a master of electromagnetic radiation and programming. An undisputed genius, at least in his own mind. His talents were going to waste. This wasn't living; it was mere survival. He wanted something more. He still wanted to be famous. He deserved to be known, respected, even feared. He didn't even care if it wasn't for his mind, not anymore. He just wanted to be remembered. Forever.

Soon, he met Inago. Inago was a man with a dream. Throwing down the Great Clans. Reducing everything to anarchy and raising a great technocracy in its place. The feudal system had far outlived its purposes; even the Emperor had realized it was on its last legs. The Imperial government was little more than a pawn of the clan daimyos most of the time, and they were a bunch of old men and women that cared for little more than their positions. Katsumoto found Inago's ideas intriguing, though he had little taste for politics.

In Inago's new world, those who knew the technology would rule. Power would be earned through intellect, aptitude, and skill. Those who could not adapt would die, or find a way to serve. The words appealed to Katsumoto. He was, after all, a scientist. He would have a prominent place in such a world. He joined at once, even going so far as to take the mock "vow of fealty" that so many Locusts used to conceal their identities. Katsumoto knelt before Inago, and Inago Iseki rose in his place, Isek for short.

Iseki. It wasn't a real name, really. Iseki, or ruins. An odd choice, and Isek knew it. That was just the way he thought. Ruins were what was left of his career, and when he was done that was what would be left of Rokugan. Katsumoto would be forgotten but in Inago's new world, everyone would remember Inago Isek. Forever.

Sure, the research had led away from pure electromagnetism but that was all right. The wands and the smaller generators still used EMP tech and Isek was proud of his work. Pestilence was something more. He still wasn't entirely sure how Inago had gotten ahold of the tetsukami circuitry they had used to build it, but it was simply a work of art. Isek would never have conceived of using magic to produce a pulse-like affect. At first, it had disturbed him. Isek had his heart set on a true city-wide pulse, frying systems, making vehicles explode, throwing everything into utter chaos and laying low the mighty. Mere darkness and paralysis were poor substitutes.

Or so he had thought. Now that he stood here, in the heart of the Empire, watching as samurai, heimin, and hinin alike crouched in fear of the power he wielded, now he knew what it truly must feel like to be a god. As the Locust half-tracks churned through the broken pavement and overturned cars, Isek noted down every memory, ever sensation. He knew there would never be a great moment that this. This was conquest. No one would ever forget this day.

Isek leaned close to the armored windows, peering through the slot at the streets ahead. He could smell the smoke of the fires. He could hear the shrieks as their vehicles drew close. And there, gleaming through the smoke, standing above it all, was their destination.

"The Diamond Palace," he breathed with a smile.

"Yeah," said the driver. "Who'd ever have thought we'd get a chance at this, huh?"

"Oh, I did," Isek chuckled. "I never had any doubt."

"Well, yeah, I believed Inago, too," the driver amended quickly. Everyone knew that Isek was close to the top in the Locust Clan, and no one bad-mouthed Inago. "It's just that, well, this is really amazing. To say you're going to take out the Diamond Palace and then to do it, those are two different things, you know? Pretty crazy, huh?"

"Please shut up," Isek said coolly. "I'm trying to remember this moment and your moronic dialogue is distracting me."

The driver looked over at Isek, then turned back to the street, frowning angrily. No wonder none of the other drivers had wanted him in their transports. They must have all met him before.

A mechanical squawk sounded from Isek's belt. He quickly reached down and drew out the radio that hung there, twisting a knob at the side. "Isek," he said into its receiver.

"Inago-sama!" shouted a voice. "Otsune here. Thank the Fortunes I've reached you!" "There are no Fortunes," Isek replied. "Speak, Otsune. Over."

"You have to... off the.... attack!" she cried; static crackled, garbling her voice badly.

"Not reading you," Isek replied. "Repeat. Over."

"Six blocks.... of Shinjo Tower," she said. "Unicorns are putting up heavy resistance. Have... retreat!"

"Unicorns?" Isek replied, incredulous. "Have they found some way to circumvent Pestilence? Over."

"No!" she replied. "It's not that, it's--" A terrible blast of static followed her statement, swallowing any possibility of deciphering her words.

Isek's brow knitted in frustration. "It's what?" he said sharply. "What is your situation, Otsune? Over."

No response. The driver looked over nervously.

"I repeat. Report your situation. Over."

Still no response. The driver cleared his throat and looked back at the road.

"Otsune," Isek said.

With a bitter growl, Isek turned off the radio and clipped it back onto his belt. For several moments he rode in silence, arms folded across his chest.

"Well?" the driver said.

"Well what?" Isek snapped.

"Well, what do you think about that?" he asked. "Do you think we should call off the siege until we find out what that was all about?"

Isek turned to the driver, his eyes angry. "You want to know what I think? I think you should go back to driving and leave the thinking in the hands of those who have been chosen to think. What do you think of that?"

The driver said nothing, but his hands tightened on the wheel.

"That's right," Isek said smugly. "Exactly what I'd hoped you would say. Now. Let's go kill the Emperor, shall we?"

The half-track rumbled on, wheeling out into the square surrounding the Diamond Palace and joining in the Locust assault.

A deep growl, low and menacing, rose from Kaibutsu's throat. It was a frightening sound; even Sekkou, standing at the ogre's side, was a bit intimidated by the power that growl implied. All around them, the undead ghuls of Omar Massad shambled in for the kill. Most of them were former policemen, taken by the Jackal after they had wandered too far into Locust territory. A few of them, however, were Locusts that Sekkou recognized. He scowled behind his helmet. One more thing to make the Jackal pay for. Locusts didn't kill their own. Ever. Sekkou still believed that, even after what he had just done to Inago.

That hadn't been murder. That had been mercy. Whatever that thing was, there wasn't anything of Inago left in it anymore.

"Miiiiine!" hissed a ghul, lunging toward Sekkou. Sekkou danced a step back, drew his pistol, and fired. He knew the bullets would have little effect, but the force of the impact threw his attacker back.

"Go AWAY!" Kaibutsu snarled. His meaty fists each seized the head of a ghul, smashing the two of them together with a crack. The ghuls twitched once in the ogre's grip and toppled to the ground.

"Kaibutsu, behind you!" Sekkou shouted. He fired his gun past the ogre's shoulder, taking the eye of a ghul ready to sink its fangs into Kaibutsu's back. The ogre turned with a roundhouse punch, collapsing the ghul's sternum with the impact and throwing it backward into the shadowy hallway.

Six more of them remained. Sekkou could still hear more shuffling and groaning in the darkness as well. How many had the Jackal killed? How large had his City of Bones become while Sekkou's attention had been elsewhere? Sekkou considered for a moment just slipping away. More of the ghuls were paying attention to Kaibutsu anyway. If he just shoved them aside and ran, they likely would swarm upon the ogre and leave him be.

Then, a ghul lunged at Sekkou with lightning speed. Razor sharp claws fastened around the Locust's throat and his vision blurred red. Behind him he could see Kaibutsu fighting off four more of the creatures. There would be no way the ogre could save him in time.

"Not here," he thought. "There's so much still left to do..."

The ghul's grip loosened then, and it's eyes went wide. Suddenly, the creature's head exploded in a green flame. It fell to the ground, shrieking and clutching at its skull.

"Fortunes!" Sekkou cursed, staring down in surprise. "What in--?"

"Stop right there, Sekkou!" shouted a voice. A tall man dressed in a black jumpsuit, appeared around the end of the tunnel, holding a dark-bladed katana in both hands. Just behind him to the right stood a slightly shorter man wearing a topknot, aiming a pistol. To his left stood an older man with dreadlocks and a baggy trenchcoat, his hands wreathed in a green flame that matched that which was consuming the ghul. Shugenja.

"This isn't my doing, you idiots!" Sekkou shouted, emptying the rest of his clip into the nearest ghul. It lost its arm and half its face to the barrage but kept coming. Behind him, Kaibutsu slammed the four ghuls he was fighting to the floor, leaving a sizable dent in the metal tile.

"Merciful Amaterasu," the old shugenja swore. "Is that an ogre?"

"Where is Otaku Sachiko?" the tall man demanded, slashing at the ghul horde with his katana.

"Why are you asking me?" Sekkou snapped, slapping the butt of the pistol across a ghul's face and forcing another away with a boot. "Do I look like I have the slightest control of this situation? Now help us or leave us the hell alone!"

The tall man shook his head in irritation and leapt deeper into the fray, black blade flashing. The ghuls hedged away from him as he attacked, as if afraid of the weapon he bore. The katana carved a path through the undead host, felling three with each stroke. As the swordsman advanced, the green fire of his shugenja companion flared all around him. The last of the ghuls shrieked as their bodies were consumed in fire, returning to the death that once claimed them. Kaibutsu winced and drew away from the glow of the flames. The swordsman continued his charge, headed directly for the ogre.

The dark-garbed man stopped instantly as a bullet ricocheted off of the wall before him. Sekkou stepped into his path, holding his gun with both hands. "Think it through," he said. "Leave Kaibutsu alone or the next shot won't miss."

"He's a Shadowlands monster," the man replied, narrowing his eyes and taking a step back. His sword was still held low and steady, ready to slice through the Locust in an instant.

"He's with me," the Locust corrected. Behind him, Kaibutsu grunted confidently and cracked his knuckles.

"Oh, dear," the old shugenja moaned. "Inago Sekkou. The Inago Sekkou."

"Like it matters," the man with the ponytail said with a confident chuckle. He aimed his pistol at Sekkou's helmet. "You're outnumbered. You willing to take a bullet for an ogre, Sekkou?"

"Call it a burst of altruism," Sekkou answered. "But I'm running rather short on allies lately; I'd rather like to keep this one."

"Sekkou and Kaibutsu friends," the ogre said, showing his fangs in a wide smile.

"Calm yourself, Kaibutsu," Sekkou ordered.

"Hmm," the dark man said. He gave the Locust a single, penetrating look, then spun his sword and returned it to his belt. "Fine," he said.

"What?" the man with the ponytail exclaimed. "Hatsu are you insane? Do you realize who this is?"

"I know exactly who this is," the man replied, eyes still focused on Sekkou. "And I know that there's more going on here than meets the eye. Rakki, put away your gun."

"You're kidding," the other man said. "He's a killer, Hatsu!"

"Dragons," the shugenja said bitterly. "They don't have to make sense. They're all insane, just like in the stories."

"Hatsu?" Sekkou said, a note of curiosity in his voice. "As in Kitsuki Hatsu? The fugitive detective who was killed by Imperial Magistrates in Bayushi's Labyrinth some time back? I thought I recognized you. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"That's me," Hatsu nodded. "Rakki, put away the gun. Tokei, back off."

Rakki sighed and complied, still watching Sekkou carefully. The Locust nodded and put away his own weapon.

"Pleased to meet a fellow outlaw, Kitsuki," Sekkou said with a chuckle. "For a while there, you were higher on the Imperial Guard's most wanted list than I was. You had me a bit jealous. Now what can I do for you?"

"Where is Otaku Sachiko?" Hatsu demanded.

Sekkou paused for a moment, surprised by the question. "Who?" he said. "I vaguely recall the name, but I don't have any idea what you're talking about. We don't have anyone here by that name."

"Like hell!" Rakki shouted over Hatsu's shoulder. "One of your guys took her! The big, creepy guy! Moto Yotogi!"

Sekkou shook his head. "No," he said. "There's no one here by that name. I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong maze of subterranean tunnels. If you will excuse me, I have much to do tonight. Believe it or not, I'm trying to stop the Locust attack. Are you going to let me pass or are we going to have to pointlessly fight this out?"

"I can't let you leave, Sekkou," Hatsu said with a small shake of his head. "We still have questions, and I can't say that the idea of you two running loose in the city comforts me."

"I was afraid you would say that," Sekkou sighed. His hand strayed toward his pistol, and Hatsu reached for his sword.

"Here we go again," Tokei grumbled.

"Ah, what tragic, flawed nobility," cackled the disturbed voice of Omar Massad, warped and twisted by electronics. Hatsu and Sekkou both turned quickly to the body of a nearby ghoul. A small radio was taped to its chest, producing the voice of the Jackal. "And tragic souls always meet a tragic end. It's just seems to bring closure, doesn't it?"

Hatsu's sharpened senses and Sekkou's general instinct for danger alerted them both to the danger simultaneously. Sekkou leapt into a run. Hatsu shouted a warning to Tokei. The explosives Omar Massad had planted inside the corpse detonated, and the halls of the Machine filled with flames.

"A human comes to learn," the shadows laughed. "They always come to learn from me, all of them... Ishak... Munashi... all of them... even the Stormbreaker would not be quite as he is were it not for me... and what is your name, little human?"

Chobu scowled. He'd been wandering through Downtown for over an hour now. He was deep in the sewers, knee-deep in filthy water and the Fortunes knew what else. He wasn't in the mood to be insulted. The big Badger rose to his full height and cracked his knuckles loudly. "Little?" he called out.

"Little." In an instant, the Kashrak was there. Serpent tails as thick as tree trunks rose from the waters. A reptilian face marred with boils and puckered scars leered, grinning with a wide mouth full of teeth like daggers. An enormous, muscular body loomed above the Badger, clawed hands holdings strings of blackened pearls.

In his life, Ichiro Chobu had made a few bad decisions. He was a hot-tempered thug who knew he had a bad habit for getting himself in trouble, but didn't mind. No matter what sort of mess he got himself into with his fists, he always knew that his sharp mind could get him back out. Chobu had never regretted a single decision he had made in his life.

Until now. Nothing had ever frightened him like the Kashrak did now.

He tried to face the creature with as much bravado as he could muster. In Chobu's case, that was no small amount but he still couldn't help but flinch at the thing's rancid breath. "I'm Ichiro Chobu," the badger said. He drew the Phoenix scroll from his coat. "I was told you could show me how to use this."

The Kashrak reached out and snatched the scroll, glancing at it for barely a moment. "Ah," he said. "So it shall be Oni no Chobu, then? Not wise, Badger. Perhaps I should kill you now rather than teach you. Later, you might consider it a blessing."

"Actually, I heard that you can give an oni someone else's name," Chobu replied. "I was thinking more along the lines of Oni no Kyo."

The Kashrak chuckled. "Difficult without consent, and mostly pointless as the spawn will be weak from continuous struggle," he said. "It is always better with an unresisting accomplice. Besides, the name you seek has already been taken."

"Is that so?" Chobu replied.

"Oh, yes," Kashrak replied. "I see much from down here. More, I wager, than you see in your waking world. Rokugan is not so bright a place as it appears. Tell me, Badger why is it that you seek the death of the Yoritomo?"

Chobu frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about." He immediately began to think random thoughts. If this creature was reading his mind somehow, he wasn't going to help it along.

"Leave your mind be, I have no taste for your dark desires," Kashrak spat. "I knew who you were the moment you came here. You are the son of the failed Imperial assassin, Chiodo. You wish to know why your father did what he did. I see all of this. I know all of this. Nothing transpires in the city above without my knowledge."

"Tell me," Chobu said. "Tell me what I need to know."

"But of course," Kashrak replied. "I shall tell you who controlled your father and how they did it and give you the precious gift of maho with which to unravel all of my master's carefully laid plans. Do you take me for a fool, Badger?" The creature crumpled the scroll and tossed it aside. The Kashrak stopped grinning.

"I dunno," Chobu said. "Maybe?"

"Maybe not," Kashrak replied, "This conversation is at an end." It surged forward, claws outstretched, fangs gaping wide as if to swallow the badger whole.

Chobu staggered backward. His mystical senses reeled at the awesome power within the creature. It could fillet him alive without even using its magic. He didn't stand a chance. His back hit a wall that hadn't been there a moment before and he knew he was trapped. Tiny cobras whipped about the Kashrak as he advanced, their reptilian eyes fixing upon the doomed Badger.

"Wait!" Chobu shouted, latching upon the only thing that he thought might save him. "Let me tell you about the Oracles!"

The Kashrak paused, a flicker of doubt crossing its face. "Oracles?" it repeated.

"Yes," Chobu replied. "I know about the Oracles. I've even met one of them!"

Kashrak chuckled and sat back on its tails, big arms folded. Even the small cobra-tentacles seemed to calm a bit, though they kept angry eyes on the Badger. "Is that so?" Kashrak said. "Well, you seem to be telling the truth. At least your mind thinks you are. The Dark Oracles keep their secrets close. I confess even I know little about them. Tell me about these Oracles, Chobu. Tell me what you know and perhaps you shall buy a few more moments of life."

"I know the Oracle of Earth," Chobu replied. "He's a cab driver and his name is Naydiram."

"Good," Kashrak said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He moved a few paces closer. "Very good indeed. Tell me something more. I sense you still have tidbit that can be of use. Pray that you do, at any rate."

Chobu smiled. Mustering all the will he could, he cleared his head. "I can tell you something," he said. "I can tell you what it takes to kill an Oracle."

Kashrak's mouth snapped shut. "Tell me," it hissed.

"The scroll first," Chobu said, pointing at the crumpled bit of paper floating in the water. "Teach me how to use the scroll."

The Kashrak grinned again and snapped up the scroll in its claws. "Clever, for a human," it said. "Agreed. Though I guarantee your poor decision in coming here shall lead to your death."

"I'm used to that," Chobu said. "When can we start?"

Zul Rashid's breath came in gasps. His arms were sore from combat and his magic was weak. He had battled his way through over sixty, an army of men, demons, and jinn that served his father's twisted will. Some of them had been bitter enemies. Most of them, he had once called friends. Now he strode into the circular chamber at the very height of the sorceror's tower, and he hoped that he would not be too late.

The floor was tacky from decades of spilled blood. The magics of the khadi demanded a heavy price and Kassir was happy to pay it in the lives of slaves and vagabonds. Rashid's stomach turned. Once, he had been all too happy to take a hand in these perverted rituals. Once, before he realized who he truly was. Once, before he realized who the Heartless truly were.

To his right, another staircase rose. At the top of this sat a boiling cauldron, an iron box dangling above it by a silken cord. To his left, another staircase rose. At the top of this was an anvil, hammer, and forge. The pearl-handled blade of the Phoenix lay across the anvil. Before him, a third staircase rose. At the top of this was a large platform, cloaked by curtains.

Rashid knew that Kassir was waiting for him there, and Isawa Neiko was his prisoner. With his magic weakened, Rashid would not be able to face the khadi lord. He ran up the stairs toward the katana. To his surprise, Ofushikai was covered with black markings, and the shattered remains of some sort of mold lay on the ground about him. Had Kassir been attempting to copy the Phoenix sword? To what end?

Or could this be a copy? Perhaps this was not the true Ofushikai, but a demonic copy meant to mislead? There was only one way to find the truth. Rashid took the blade up in both hands, throwing caution to the wind. In that instant, the souls of all the Shiba that ever were and ever would be sang through him. He was one with the infinite, the wisdom of the divine tearing through his mortal mind in an instant and leaving him merely mortal once more. This was no copy. There could be no copy of such a blade. He had retrieved the sword of his true father, the Ancestral Sword of the Phoenix Clan.

Rashid hurried back down the stairs, running up toward the central staircase. As he mounted the bottom stair, the curtains parted. There stood his father, Kassir, a bearded face covered with scars hovering above the shapeless mass of a dark robe. One arm wrapped around the pale throat of Isawa Neiko, the young Rokugani shugenja who had come to Medinaat-al-Salaam to search for Ofushikai and help Rashid find his true destiny. The woman Zul Rashid had come to love. She was unmoving, put into a trance by the khadi master's loathsome powers. Kassir's other hand was held conspicuously behind his back. He stood only six feet from the grotesque clockwork portal of blood, magic, and metal that he used to spirit himself about the Burning Sands. Rashid froze where he stood.

"Yes, stay your hand, and well you should, boy!" Kassir laughed. He pulled a blade from behind his back, a katana forged of blue steel. "You arrived sooner than I had thought, but not soon enough! The steel of this blade is not fully hardened, yet it shall be strong enough I think. You will not reach me in time."

"You cannot kill her and escape," Rashid said, nodding at the closed portal. "Your plans die with you, father."

"Oh?" Kassir asked. "I think not. Consider this, Rashid." He pointed with the blue blade toward the steel box that hovered above the boiling cauldron. Several strands of silk had already frayed. "The time it shall take you to save your heart shall leave me long enough to flee this place."

Rashid did not look away. "You lie," he said. "My wife would never betray my heart to you."

"Oh, would she not?" Kassir's black brows knitted in disapproval. "After I told her what you did with this Rokugani harlot, Ezmin was only too glad to surrender it to me! All that could have made her happier would have been to twist the blade herself! You have seconds left to save your heart, Zul Rashid. Your heart or your love, a choice must be made."

"If you had my heart, you would not have hesitated to destroy it," Rashid snarled.

"Oh?" Kassir replied. "Will you take that chance?"

If Rashid were to die now, the Soul of Shiba would die with him. There was no choice, and the foul lord of the khadi knew it. Rashid turned and ran up the stairs to his right. He saw Kassir's sword rise high as he turned; whatever fate awaited Neiko from that eldritch blade would be worse than hell. He could not kill Kassir, not without finding the old man's heart. As Rashid drew closer to the iron box, he did the only thing he could to save Isawa Neiko.

He threw the Ancestral Sword of the Phoenix.

Guided by Rashid's waning magic, the air spirits carried the blade on a deadly trajectory. The pearl-handled katana lodged in the girl's chest with a sickly thud. As Kassir's own blade came down it bounced off of the steel protruding from Neiko's spine. Rashid had intended to kill her, throwing her soul beyond Kassir's reach. Instead, the two swords met, and a flash of pure light filled the room joined by a resounding crack. Kassir cursed as he stepped back to examine the damage to his blade. Isawa Neiko fell limp to the floor. With a dry curse, Kassir turned and spoke the words of magic, stepping through the mechanical portal and vanishing.

Zul Rashid's hands closed about the iron box and tore it from the remaining thread. The heat of the metal seared his skin, but he ignored the pain. He had to know; he had to know if he had made the right decision.

The box was empty.

The Imperial Guard stood in ranks in the courtyard. Each carried a naginata and had an automatic rifle slung over their shoulder. Many looked uncertain of their pole-arms; the long spears were usually carried only for ceremonial purposes. Most of them were even more uncertain of the mob gathering outside of the Palace gates. The Locust Clan had arrived in force. Fires burned along the wall, and the large half-track vehicles had been ramming the gates repeatedly. None of the Imperial Guard's own vehicles were operating in the Locust Pulse.

"I don't understand this," whispered one of the guards. "It looks like leaving the Palace? Why don't we stay here and defend ourselves until help comes?"

The whisper filtered through the crowd. The guards were uneasy. The Palace was still whole, and easily defended. Why risk everyone's lives when there was no need? Help would arrive eventually. The whispers ceased as the tread of boots echoed from the stairs of the Diamond Palace.

Daikua Kita marched before the gathered lines of guardsmen. Her face was calm, her eyes clear as she regarded the gathered soldiers. A moment later, another woman stood at Kita's side. At first, no one recognized the small woman in green armor, then a murmur ran through the crowd. It was Yoritomo Ryosei herself, the Imperial Princess. "Before we begin the attack," Ryosei said. "I assume some of you have questions."

The crowd was silent. Ryosei's green eyes swept from one end of the crowd to the other.

"No questions?" she asked. "You all know what's going on, then? What a wonder, because I'm not so sure myself." Ryosei paced back and forth before the assembled Mantis, Wasp, and other sworn Imperial Guardsmen. She tried to sound proud and confident; she'd seen her father address men like this many times. Now she tried to remember as much of him as she could. She wished he was here now.

"But I know one thing," she said, holding up a finger meaningfully. "I know this. While the Locust hold us here in siege, my brother's life is in danger. Far from the Diamond Palace, the Emperor's life is in danger. You have sworn your lives and honor to serve the Emperor." Ryosei paused, letting her voice echo across the courtyard.

To her surprise, she saw that every eye was upon her. They were listening to her, as they did to her father. She felt a bit of his strength in her, and she used it to forge onward. She knew the next would be the most difficult part.

"I call upon that oath now in the name of my father. In the name of my brother. In the name of the Yoritomo. I ask that you follow me for one night, as you would follow the Emperor. I ask you to follow me and sweep the Locust Clan aside. I ask you to bring Yoritomo VII home. There will be no shame if you turn back now, but make the wrong decision and I promise it will haunt you till the end of eternity. Now. Imperial Guard. Will you follow me?"

The courtyard was silent. She saw fear in their eyes. Inside, Ryosei died, but she didn't let it show. She kept her shoulders straight and kept her eyes scanning, searching, scouring the crowd for any sign that her words were having the desired affect.

Crack.

Ryosei blinked.

Crack.

One guard, in the third row, tapped the hilt of his heavy naginata against the cobblestones.

Click. Crack.

A second had joined the first. They both were looking to Ryosei. The fear was gone from their eyes.

Crack. Crack. Click. Crack.

Four more.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Click. Crack. Click.

Six more. More followed. It was like a landslide of tiny staccato explosions after that. As one, the Imperial Guard brought their spears down upon the stone of the courtyard, drumming up their courage. The fear was gone from their eyes. Ryosei glanced back at Daikua Kita. She nodded at the princess, respect in her eyes. They were ready.

"Imperial Guard!" Ryosei shouted, her voice thundering as her father's once had. "Will you follow me? Will you save the Son of Storms?"

"YORITOMO!" the Imperial Guard shouted, holding their spears in the air.

"For Yoritomo and Rokugan!" Ryosei shouted. The cry was hardly original; she'd paraphrased it from one of her favorite legends about the Second Day of Thunder. Still, it seemed to work.

"YORITOMO AND ROKUGAN!" they shouted again, now in a frenzy.

"LOCUST CLAN!" Ryosei shouted toward the gates. Her words rang out even across the din outside. "I am Yoritomo Ryosei of the Mantis! I give you one final chance to withdraw from your attack, or you will suffer the consequences as traitors against the Diamond Empire!"

"YORITOMO!" the Imperial Guard screamed.

For a moment, the attack outside the gates paused. The Locusts had heard the cry, and for a moment they doubted the logic in their siege. It quickly passed, and the half-tracks continued their barrage.

"I think they heard you," Kita said with a grin. "But I don't think they're afraid of you yet."

"They will be," Ryosei replied fiercely. "Open the gates."

Sekkou imagined that death couldn't be too different from this. Technically, he was already dead, but at this rate it might take a great deal of time for that technicality to catch up with him. He was buried alive. Inago Sekkou knew the tunnels of the Machine well; before the explosion had hit, he quickly managed to leap into a side chamber. The walls and door, like much of the Machine, were solid metal. The fire and shock of the blast were deflected, but the room itself collapsed in an instant.

"At least this damn helmet finally came in useful," Sekkou said. The visor of his motorcycle helmet was cracked directly down the center, shattered by a steel support beam that had struck Sekkou in the face. Had he not been wearing his trademark disguise, he would have been killed.

Then again, perhaps he would have been better off that way. Sekkou always imagined himself going out fighting, a dozen gunshot wounds tearing him apart in the midst of a Unicorn onslaught. But this, suffocating thirty feet below the streets with no one to care... this should not happen.

"No," the Locust hissed. "This will not be the death of Inago Sekkou. I will not die here, I will not die now, and I will most certainly not die at the hands of a gaijin imbecile." He shifted his shoulders in the rubble; he could barely move an inch. He couldn't even tell if his arms and legs were broken. His whole body was in pain.

"DAMN IT!" he screamed. "DAMN OMAR MASSAD TO JIGOKU!"

The metal plate laying on top of Sekkou moved away. A large, fanged face looked down curiously. "Did you say something, Sekkou-sama?" the ogre asked.

"Kaibutsu?" Sekkou said. The pit-fighter was cut deeply along one side of its face. One tusk was broken, and he was covered in dust. But it was, indeed, Kaibutsu.

"Kaibutsu thought he heard yelling," Kaibutsu replied. He grabbed the steal beam that rested against Sekkou's helmet and tossed it aside.

"Thank the Fortunes," Sekkou said, though he wasn't used to praying. "Get me out of here."

"That's what Kaibutsu is doing!" Kaibutsu smiled, grabbing another armful of metal and pulling it free. The debris clattered as the ogre tossed it effortlessly aside. "Sekkou-sama would not leave Kaibutsu behind, so Kaibutsu would not leave Sekkou-sama! Right?"

Sekkou looked at the ogre for a moment; the monstrous face was plain and sincere. He pulled his helmet free and breathed deeply, glad to be free once more. "Yes, Kaibutsu," Sekkou said with a grateful smile. "That's right, Kaibutsu."

The Locust looked around at the devastation the explosion had caused. The immediate blast area had collapsed, but the other halls of the Machine were still sound. They had been designed to be bomb shelters, and had weathered the detonation without effect. Sekkou let his cracked helmet fall to the floor; the silver Locust mon on the forehead glinted up at him. He sneered. The symbol meant nothing to him now. All he wanted now was to find Isek, stop the catastrophe that was about to happen at the Palace, and have some peace for the first time in years.

"What about Dragon and his friends?" Kaibutsu asked, pointing at the rubble. "Kaibutsu look for them, too?"

"No, Kaibutsu," Sekkou said. "Even if they buried, they are no friends of ours and we have much to do. Let them save themselves." He turned and limped off down the tunnel, his tattered black trenchcoat flowing out behind as he walked.

Kaibutsu took another long look at the wreckage. He picked up Sekkou's discarded helmet, then hurried to follow his friend.

The building shook to its foundations. Keijura ducked into a door frame, tackling Kochiyo and dragging her along. Ceiling tiles and dust toppled, cracking on the floor. Bookshelves lurched over, spilling their contents everywhere. Keijura could hear people on the other floors, screaming. For the last half hour now, the building had been heaving on and off as if under the influence of massive earth tremors. It had taken all of the young reporter's skill, luck, and agility to make it down to the second floor alive. The building settled once more, still.

"What are you doing?" she snapped at him, pushing him away as she crawled to her feet. "We can't keep going down! That's where they're at! We need to go up if we want to get away from them!"

"They're going to destroy the whole building," Keijura replied. "Going up won't get us anywhere."

"Going down is worse!" she cried. "Those are the Stormbreaker's monsters! You have no idea what they'll do to you. I have no idea what they'll do to you! They could be oni or worse!"

The question of what could be worse than oni flashed through Keijura's mind, but he suppressed his curiosity. He just knew he had to get to the bottom floor as soon as possible. He ducked back out of the doorway and ran down the stairs two at a time, dodging around and over debris.

"What are you doing?" Kochiyo shouted down at him. "You'll get yourself killed!" She watched him disappear down the stairwell, then sighed and backed away, looking for somewhere to hide. She wasn't going to give herself up so easily.

"It's terrible, isn't it?" said a small voice. "One day, you're on top of the world. The next day, you're hunted like a dog. Our line of business can be fickle, its true. I hate that about Jigoku."

She whirled about to see a young girl, dressed in a private school uniform. A colorful ball was tucked under one of her arms. Her eyes were fixed on Kochiyo, and a malicious smile twisted her lips.

"But that's just the downside," the girl said. "Evil has its upsides, too. Like now. When you get to kill people. I'm the Dark Oracle of Air, and I'm going to kill you now, Shosuro Kochiyo." The girl began to walk toward Kochiyo, bouncing the ball on the floor as she approached.

"No!" Kochiyo shouted. She picked up a jagged hunk of ceiling tile and hurled it at the girl.

"Lightning," the Oracle replied. A burst of electricity from her eyes tore the tile apart in an explosion of powder. The powder trickled over her hair and the shoulders of her blazer, and the Oracle giggled.

Kochiyo picked up a fallen brick, throwing that at the Oracle as well.

"Lightning," the Oracle repeated. The brick exploded as well, and the girl emerged from the cloud of smoke unharmed. "Do you sense a pattern here, Kochiyo?" she asked. "I must say, in all my centuries there is nothing more pathetic than a Scorpion that's out of tricks."

Kochiyo threw another missile at the Oracle, a thermos from her purse.

"Lightning," the Oracle said again.

The thermos exploded, showering the Dark Oracle in Tea of Jade Petals. The Oracle screamed in pain. Her skin warped, twisted, and peeled away as she clawed her face, dark streams of blood mixing with the dark fluid of the tea. The creature charged toward Kochiyo, hissing in fury as its skull began to cave into itself. The Scorpion kicked at the charging Oracle, but the thing's dying strength was too great. It seized her about the legs and she fell to the ground.

Kochiyo didn't scream as she felt the Oracle crawling up her back. She felt the thing's strength, superhuman power that belied her fragile form, pinning her to the ground. She may have killed the Oracle, but she was going to die herself now. After everything she had done, this was how it would end.

"Daniri," she mumbled as the Dark Oracle's talons fastened around her throat.

"Engulf," the Oracle croaked, and the power of her magic washed over Kochiyo.

In an instant, Kochiyo's life flashed before her eyes, just like they said it would. All of her mistakes, all the possibilities, all the misdeeds, paraded before her. Strangely, in the end, even Kochiyo had trouble feeling sympathy for herself.

Tokei leaned back against the wall of the tunnel. He pressed one hand to his side. It came back warm and wet. Though he hadn't been close to the explosion, he'd been thrown backward by the shock and riddled with shrapnel. Now he lay on his back amid the debris. His belt ring of Asako scroll-cards were scattered all around him. He grabbed a handful of the nearest and glanced at them. His head swam as he leaned forward; he was losing a lot of blood.

The old wizard breathed a sigh of relief as he found the card he was looking for. Mumbling the words of the spell, he summoned a water spirit into the flesh around his wound. He felt the flow of blood slow, and the pain begin to numb. He would live, at least until he got back to Godaigo and had himself stitched up properly. Tokei sat up against the wall and glanced around, stuffing the cards in his pocket. The hall was still full of dust clouds from the explosion.

"Hello?" called out a voice, coughing. Shinjo Rakki stumbled out of the cloud. He was dirty and bewildered, but seemed completely unharmed.

"You lucky bastard," Tokei said with a grin. "You were in the middle of that damn explosion and you didn't even get a scratch."

"Hatsu pushed me aside at the last second," Rakki said. He looked back at the rubble. "I think he must still be buried."

"Actually," Hatsu grumbled. "You're standing on my hand, Rakki."

Rakki glanced down. Hatsu was laying flat on his stomach amid the debris. His black jumpsuit made him nearly invisible. "Oh," Rakki said, taking a quick step back. He kneeled and helped Hatsu to his feet.

"Call me crazy, but I have a bad feeling about this place," the Dragon said wryly. He stood and looked around quickly. He found his katana laying on the floor and replaced it behind his belt. "I think we're in the middle of something bigger than we expected. Let's find Sachiko and get out of here."

A low moan came from around the corner, then another.

"Oh, man," Rakki said. "More ghuls. I dropped my gun in the blast; not that it would do that much good anyway."

Hatsu nodded, drawing his katana again. "Tokei," the Dragon said. "Do you have any spells ready?"

Tokei glanced through his cards and shook his head. "I lost my warding spell, but it has to be around here somewhere." He leaned forward to search through the debris and winced, freezing and clutching the wound in his abdomen.

Four ghuls stumbled into view around a far corner of the hall. Hatsu moved a few steps toward them. "Rakki," Hatsu said. "Help Tokei find his spells. I'll hold them off."

"Check, boss," Rakki said, dropping to a crouch and rummaging about on the floor.

Hatsu slowly edged further down the hallway. Two more ghuls joined the first four. All of them fixed evil red eyes upon him. "Miiiiiine," one of the called.

"No," Hatsu said. "Not yours." He darted forward with the dragon-claw blade, slicing the first from hip to shoulder. The next savagely clawed him across the arm, and was decapitated in turn. Hatsu spun wildly in their midst, but more were rounding the corner every second.

"Find it!" Tokei shouted desperately. "Put that damn Unicorn luck to good use for once!" The old wizard could see Hatsu beginning to sag beneath the rage of the ghuls' undead strength. The dragon-claw katana swung ever more slowly as its wielder began to tire.

"I'm trying!" Rakki shouted back. "Is this it?" He held up a card.

Tokei looked over. "No, dammit! That's not even mine! How did you find that?"

Rakki shrugged and kept looking.

Hatsu buried his sword in a ghul's sternum and pulled upward, cutting its head in two lengthwise. Another brought its fists down on the Dragon's spine. He grunted in pain and fell to his knees. A ghul kicked him in the face and his sword flew from his hands. The ghuls hissed as they mobbed around him to feed. They fell in a heap on top of the Dragon. The sound of breaking glass and a scream echoed through the hallways of the Machine.

"Here it is!" Rakki said triumphantly, handing a slightly scorched plastic card to Tokei.

Tokei nodded and quickly read the words of the spell, pointing toward the mob of ghuls. The hallway glowed a bright blue for a moment, but nothing happened. The ghuls simply lay on top of Hatsu, motionless. Hatsu shoved aside the bodies, sitting upright and looking around in wonder. He was unhurt. "What happened?" he said. "The ghuls just... stopped."

A short, bald man dressed in chains and leather stumbled around the corner, falling to his face. He seemed to be openly weeping. Otaku Sachiko followed a step behind him, dressed only in a purple halter and nylon pants. A silver chain dangled from her hand, ending in a broken shard of crystal.

"Jackal moron," Sachiko snapped at the fallen man. "Wasn't even watching his back."

"The Soul..." the man whimpered, staring at several broken bits of crystal in his bleeding hands. "You... shattered... the Soul of the Slayer..."

"Hi, Sachiko!" Rakki said proudly. "We're here to rescue you!"

"Great job you're doing so far, Rakki," the Battle Maiden replied with a wry smile. Her green eyes fixed on Hatsu, and she froze. For a moment, she just stared in disbelief, shaking her head very slightly to one side.

Hatsu sheathed his katana and smiled, running one hand through his short hair. "Sachiko," he said, smiling. "Um... aren't you out of uniform?"

"Hatsu?" she answered, incredulous. She tossed the remnants of the Soul of the Slayer to one side and ran towards him, enveloping the tall Dragon in a fierce embrace. The Dragon returned the gesture. "Hatsu," she said quietly. "I knew you were alive. I knew it..."

"Sachiko," Hatsu said back. He was too much at a loss for words to say anything else. He hadn't realized how much he had missed her. He hadn't realized how much she had meant. For the time being, they just held each other.

"Hey, not to hurry you or anything," Rakki said, kneeling on Omar Massad's back and tying his wrists together with a scrap of wire. "But whenever you guys are ready, Tokei and I would like to get the heck out of here."

Akodo settled to the street with a hiss of air and clank of metal. It crouched low enough to set Jiro down on his feet, then leaned backward to fill the streets with a triumphant roar.

"Subtle, Daniri!" Jiro shouted, covering his ears. "Way to keep the Lions from finding us."

"Let 'em!" Daniri cried back, his voice echoing through the speakers of the armored suit. "I feel like I could take on the whole Matsu army right now! It's good to be back in Akodo!"

"Well I'm happy you got your god-machine back," Jiro replied, glancing up and down the street warily, "but could we try to quiet it down? Not all of us are bulletproof."

"Oh yeah," Daniri said. "Sorry."

"So where are we headed next?" Jiro asked, looking up at the golden mechanical monstrosity. "Shinjo Tower? Diamond Palace?"

"Little Jigoku," Daniri replied.

"Little Jigoku?" Jiro asked. "We going to hook up with Toturi's Army? Try to find out what the Locust are up to?"

"Nope," Daniri answered. "I could care less about the Army, the Locust, or the Emperor are up to right now. I want to go check up on mom."

"Right," Jiro said.

Akodo reached out to lift Jiro into its arms, but suddenly stumbled. The ground heaved beneath their feet. Jiro jumped clear as Akodo fell forward with a crash, leaving a spider-web of cracked pavement in the center of the street. The ground continued to shake and heave for several more seconds, then finally settled again. Jiro looked up at the War Machine, now crawling to its hands and knees. It's expressive metal face seemed somewhat confused.

"What was that?" Jiro asked.

"Hang on a second," Daniri said, holding up one hand. "I have all sorts of new sensors in here. The readings are going crazy. It's.... Thunders!" "What?" Jiro asked. The tone in his brother's voice was beginning to worry him.

"That tremor," Daniri said. "It was magical... not just that, it was maho. Black magic."

Jiro laughed out loud. "You're kidding, right?"

"Must be," Daniri replied. "That's ridiculous, right?"

The street jumped again. Akodo spread its feet wide and remained standing this time, but Jiro was hurled from his feet to land with a grunt. The War Machine's head swiveled slowly, fixing upon the large building at the end of the street.

"Wait here, Jiro," Daniri said.

"What's going on?" his brother replied, crawling upright again. He looked in the same direction Akodo was staring. The KTSU building.

"It's in there," Daniri said, pointing.

"What?" Jiro asked. "What's in there?"

Akodo nodded. "Wait here," Daniri repeated. The War Machine began to stomp off noisily down the street.

"What?" Jiro called out, waving his arms and striding out into the middle of the street. "You're going to help the Lions? After what they did to you?"

"Wait here," Daniri said over his shoulder a final time.

Jiro sighed and leaned up against an abandoned car. Times like this he was glad he wasn't Daniri. Stupid overdeveloped sense of heroism just got his older brother into trouble.

Still, Jiro followed a close distance behind. Just to keep an eye on things.

Holy Home City had been lost.

The refugees of the Church of the Shadow Samurai walked single file through the narrow pass. After Zul Rashid had disappeared, Ishan's monsters had redoubled their efforts to crush their city. The Brothers of the Day had returned, one of them near death and gibbering with madness about Champions that never were and life never-ending doomed to die. The Byoki had begun tearing down buildings in their fury, and Thi'kwithatch knew it would only be a matter of time before they were discovered.

In ones and twos, the nezumi and the two remaining ise zumi had ferreted those who had hidden under the Church's protection to the mountains outside of the city. They had little food, no vehicles, and few tents. With a dozen families in the tiny caravan, mostly children or elderly, they had to move slowly and left a visible trail. It was only a matter of time before they were discovered and hunted down. So far, that had not happened. So far, the spirit of Hida Sukune was watching over them. Thi'kwithatch breathed a prayer of thanks into the wind and kept walking, his staff thunking in the snow as he trudged onward. Holy Home City was still in sight far behind, though the normal warm lights of the city had been replaced by the malevolent purple glare of Ishan's fires.

The shadows rippled ahead, and Mayonaka was there. The Master of Midnight was as his name suggested. He was indiscernible from the darkness when he wished to be. The dark-skinned ise zumi jogged quietly but swiftly toward the nezumi.

"The road ahead is blocked," he said simply.

"Byoki?" Asahi asked. Asahi was the largest of the three brothers, and the most fearsome in combat. Swirling tattoos of apes, tigers, and burning suns covered his skin. He fought with the rage and power of all three.

"I could not tell," Mayonaka replied. "But they were not human. I did not approach more closely. I could smell the wreak of death, and see creatures moving that were larger than human. I think that they were Byoki, or perhaps even something worse."

"No," Thi'kwithatch moaned. "Not now. Another hour and we'd have been out of sight of the city. Another night and we would be out of the heights. The nights would not nearly have been so bad. If we have to cut into the mountains we will not find another human for a week at least, and many will not make the climb."

"I am sorry," Mayonaka replied.

"I wish it were not so myself," Asahi added. "We need return Shougo to Togashi Mountain as rapidly as possible."

"How is your brother?" Mayonaka asked.

"Well, but not better," Asahi replied. "He is walking now, but he grows more distant. One of the children leads him by the hand, and he walks dutifully. He speaks almost non-stop now, of the Caverns of Twilight and of Zul Rashid and of Kuni Ishan's School of Enlightenment."

"Does any of it make sense?" Mayonaka asked hopefully. "Perhaps he speaks some clue?"

"I thought as much myself, but I can tell nothing of obvious use," Asahi shrugged. "After a time, it pained me to see him in such a condition. One of the men of the city, a reporter, promised to take notes upon what he said. Perhaps Lord Hoshi can make some sense of it."

They made their way to the side of the road, hiding the families and their possessions as best they could while they rested. Thi'kwithatch became absorbed in thought. His mind was troubled. When he had first met the Brothers of the Day, they had functioned as a single unit. They spoke together; they moved together; they even thought in unison. Since Hitomi Shougo had fallen, they had become increasingly independent of one another. Even now, Mayonaka and Asahi moved to opposite ends of the camp. The three of them seemed to be drifting away. It was said that they shared a soul. Now that one of them was lost what would happen to the others? And what would happen to those who had taken refuge in the Church of the Shadow Samurai once its protectors had been lost?

Thi'kwithatch thought back to Zul Rashid, the khadi sorceror now imprisoned deep within the Caverns of Twilight. There was little hope for him now. Ishan had no doubt either killed or corrupted the Master of Air by now, bending him to the will of the Shadowlands. The little nezumi shivered against the cold. He wondered if the Day of Thunder had already come? Perhaps it had come and they had lost and this was the result. Not just Holy Home City, but every city had died. He and his companions were the last vestige of Rokugan, doomed to die as well before even this night was out.

No. Hope was not dead yet. Thi'kwithatch still new something of magic. He had a few tricks that the old master had taught him. Among them was a spell... a spell he could use perhaps to take these people out of here, into the Way. From there, they could walk the paths of that strange spirit realm to almost anywhere in Rokugan. In the city, the Taint had made the spell dangerous to cast, but here... it was still dangerous. The Way was not always stable. But what did he have to lose? I it might just save them. He tightened his hands on his staff and summoned the magic the way Ishikint had taught him. Crying out to the spirits, Thi'kwithatch drove his bamboo cane deep into the earth and demanded an opening into the Way.

Nothing happened. Thi'kwithatch sighed and drooped to the ground, leaning heavily on the staff. On his best day, he had never had the power to cast that spell by himself. His people were doomed.

"The Way... there is a way..." mumbled Hitomi Shougo, staring blankly off into the distance at the nezumi's side.

Thi'kwithatch looked up into the ise zumi's eyes. "What?" he said sharply. "What was that? What did you say?"

"Everything lost is found again.... everything lost is gained again.... the only true constant is that there is no true constant and the surest course can be swayed by a single ray of light..."

"Shougo?" Thi'kwithatch said. "What are you talking about?"

The ise zumi blinked. "I'm so tired..." he said, and staggered off once more, calling for his brothers.

Thi'kwithatch smiled. Perhaps it had not been intentional, but the ise zumi had given him an idea. He had not the power to open a portal to the Way, but he knew who could. Without another word, the nezumi scampered off down the road, hugging the shadows.

He prayed that Zul Rashid still lived.

Ikoma Keijura moved out of the stairwell onto the ground floor. He walked slowly, trying to make as little sound as possible. The halls were dark, but a malevolent blue light shone from around the corner, from where the creatures were rampaging through the building. Statues of the Akodo War Machine stood on either side of the hallway where Keijura hid, crafted of solid gold and shiny glass crystal. Their transparent swords caught the light of the oni and refracted it, casting the area in a ghostly radiance. He was so close to the lobby; the exit wasn't more than two hundred feet away. With those creatures in the way, the exit might as well have been on the other side of the Empire.

Cautiously, Keijura crept around the statues and peered around the corner. The smell of blood and death tore into his nostrils.

"Tell me what you know about the Stormbreaker," hissed an insectoid beast, eight feet tall and covered in chitinous plates. The oni's lower torso melded with the inky blackness of the blacked out KTSU building. It held a young intern in one great pincer, pinning him against the wall by his throat. A score of broken corpses and dismembered body parts lay in the monster's wake. The creature was intent on its prey, and did not notice Keijura.

"The Stormbreaker?" the intern mumbled. "Isn't that the thing that the Locust guy was talking about when he pirated the channels earlier?"

The oni's mandibles twitched. "More!" he shrieked. "Tell me more! Do you know anything about the Stormbreaker! Did she tell you anything?"

"She? I don't know who you're talking about!" the intern wailed. He struggled feebly against the iron-tough claw that held him.

Oni no Akeru's insectoid eyes turned to focus. Either this boy was a good liar, or he really didn't know what he was talking about. Either way, no reason to show him any more favor than the others. Akeru closed his pincers with a meaty snip and shambled on down the hallway. The intern's decapitated corpse slumped against the hall, leaving a dark smear as it fell.

Keijura turned away, fighting back the gorge in his throat. He had to find some way to stop this monster. Something. He tried to remember everything he could about onis, all the fables, all the myths, all the legends. Keijura's eyes came to rest on the sparkling clear sword of the nearest Akodo statue.

"Shosuro Kochiyo!" the oni called out. "Come to me, little Scorpion! The time for hiding is over! It is time for this to end..." The oni sniffed the air with long antennae and turned toward a pair of metal doors. He could sense four humans hiding within, shivering in terror. One of them was a security guard, pistol pointed at the door. Pathetic. Perhaps they knew something. He turned toward the door.

Pain lanced through Akeru's skull. He fell forward, the lancing fire shooting through his exoskeleton, severing his connection to the Void. He squealed in terror and pain as he fell, felt the burning shards of purity lancing through his body. The oni rolled onto its back and held forth its claws to ward off its attacker. It saw only a young man, blonde and slight, not a warrior at all. He held a katana of burning crystal in his hands.

"I'm the one you're looking for, demon," Keijura said. He advanced on the wounded monster. He was surprised that the sword had worked, even more surprised that he had found the courage to try to use it. Better that than to let the thing kill again. He rose the sword high, prepared to bring it down and sever the creature's head. It looked up at him with hate in its eyes.

"Shatter," said a deep voice.

The katana exploded in Keijura's hands. He felt the shrapnel cut into his arms, his neck, the back of his head. He stumbled backwards and collapsed. As his vision swam with red, Keijura saw a craggy stone face glaring down on him.

"So," the stone man said. "You say you are the one we are looking for."

"Make another pass," Ginawa said. "I want to see more."

"Not much to see," Mikio said. "Looks like the Locust have an enormous mob down there. Probably four, five hundred people. They're not very well armed, but they have a few half-tracks down there too."

"Half-tracks?" Akiyoshi asked.

"Half tank, half truck," Mikio said. "The Lion use them for light military operations. They're pretty good for urban combat, too. I guess the Locust must have bought some black-market style and outfitted them with hardened circuits."

"Have they noticed us yet?" Ginawa asked.

"Not yet," Mikio said. "The Full Moon's engines are pretty quiet and Saigo's been doing a good job of keeping us out of their visual range."

"What about the gates?" Saigo asked, nervous. "Have they taken the gates yet?"

"I don't think so," Ginawa replied. "Why?"

"I had a prophecy," Saigo said. "A while back, now. If the gates fall three times, the city is doomed. They've already fallen twice."

Ginawa turned quickly toward the prophet. "Saigo," he said sharply. "Perhaps this is something that you could have told us earlier."

"Sorry," Saigo said. The prophet turned back to his controls. For a moment he had a flash of... something. A face with one eye, a snarling angry man clawing at the fabric of history. He carried the weapon of a dead man, and he stood alone in the center of chaos. He saw Ryosei's face, too, innocent and a bit afraid. The man seized her up in bloody claws; the two of them twisted together and fell down into the pit of Jigoku. Saigo shook his head with a gasp and went back to flying the ship.

"Look," Mikio said, pointing to the monitors. "Something's happening. It looks... Jigoku, that can't be right."

"What?" Saigo asked. "What's going on?"

Mikio turned to the others, his face full of shock. "It looks like they're opening the gates."

"Saigo," Ginawa said tonelessly. "Take us down there."

"They'll see us, Ginawa," Saigo replied.

"I think now is a good time to be seen," the old ronin replied.

Hida Kunisada stood over the fallen Lion. At his side, the wounded Oni of the Void shrieked and gibbered as it struggled to heal the damage that had been done to it. The crystal sword lay in splinters, not that Kunisada had anything to fear from it regardless. The crystal might wound him, inconvenience him, but more than mere stone was required to kill a Dark Oracle. The dying Lion looked up at the Dark Oracle of Earth, a desperate look in his eyes. The man's back and face were covered with blood.

"Kill it!" Akeru snarled as it hunched against the wall. "It knows the Stormbreaker! It has spoken to the Scorpion harlot! You must kill it!" The oni melted into the darkness, returning to the Void to gather its strength.

"You know the Stormbreaker's identity?" Kunisada said down at the wounded Lion. A crooked smile crossed the Oracle's face. "Perhaps you are worth keeping alive, then."

"You can kill me," the man coughed. "But they'll know. I've taken care of it."

"What are you talking about?" Kunisada demanded.

Ikoma Keijura looked up at the Oracle, sneered, and slumped into unconsciousness. Disappointing. He could attempt to rouse the Lion, but he knew already it would do no good. Lions were notoriously difficult to interrogate. No matter. Kunisada rose one heavy booted foot high into the air above the man's head.

In that instant, the front wall of the building exploded, and a tall golden samurai rocketed down the hallway. Kunisada stumbled backward and turned, attempting to brace himself against the flying warrior's charge. The two collided spectacularly, both of them tumbling backward to crash through the wall into the news studio. The two grappled, rolling end over end until they crashed into the far wall. Shattered desks and broken cameras lay in their wake. Both warriors stood to look upon one another.

"You," Kunisada said with a chuckle. "I have seen your television show."

"No autographs," Daniri replied. A rack of four tiny missiles sprouted from the robot's right forearm, then exploded toward the Oracle like a swarm of mechanical hornets. Kunisada roared as the explosions threw him backward, shattering his ancient samurai breastplate.

The Oracle remained on his feet.

"I am Hida Kunisada, Dark Oracle of Earth," the Oracle announced. "That armor was over four hundred years old."

"Sorry," Daniri said, drawing his katana. "Come over here and I'll fix it for you."

"Collapse," the Oracle said, pointing at the War Machine. The ceiling above Akodo crumbled, dropping tons of cement and steel on the War Machine's head. The robot vanished in the chaotic rubble.

Zul Rashid opened his eyes to find himself in utter darkness. He felt the rasp of his eyelids upon dry eyes. No moisture was left in his body. He had become a dead thing, a creature of twisted circuitry and rotting flesh. He could feel new strength flowing through muscles he had never flexed. He could feel the talon-like wings spreading from his back. His tongue probed across the steel-sharp fangs that now filled his mouth. He was lost.

His arms were no longer bound by his father's spell, but he could not bring himself to move. He had no effort left in him, no will. He had no wish to go on. He had failed Isawa Neiko. He had failed Sumi. He had failed the Elemental Council. And now he would fail again, becoming little more than a tool of his father. He could end it still; the blades along his new wings were sharp enough.

He could not even summon the courage to do that.

Rashid closed his eyes and hung his head. Soon, his father would return, bringing another vision, another failure. Soon, there would be nothing left of the Master of Air. Only what was left of Oni no Kaze would remain in Zul Rashid's body, ready and eager to strike down the Phoenix Clan on the last Day of Thunder.

He wondered, distantly, if the nezumi and the ise zumi were still alive. He hoped that they were. Someone should still be out there, fighting.

"Finally," said a voice. "A thought that sounds as if it is your own."

Rashid looked up. Hitomi Shougo stood before him, the ise zumi that had risked his soul and his sanity to help Zul Rashid find the Caverns of Twilight. He looked down on the fallen Master of Air, thick arms folded across his chest in disapproval. The soft glow of the Dragon's tattoos outlined his body, a dragon-tortoise in swirling mist.

"Damn," Rashid said, closing his eyes tighter. "I had thought this would at last be reality."

"Self pity? From the mighty Zul Rashid?" Shougo asked, a mocking note in his voice. "I expected better from the Heartless. Though I suppose you are not so heartless any more." He stabbed one finger at Rashid's chest, at the circuitry that had covered it. "Oh, no, not heartless. There is a heart in there now, isn't there, Rashid? And it beats stronger every day. Tell me, sorceror. How strongly was your new heart beating when you swore to me that you could control Oni no Tadaka?"

"I could!" Rashid cried. "I mean... I can... I did not know what would happen."

"Of course you didn't," Shougo said, crouching down on the ground beside the Phoenix. "But you never told me that. I had every assurance that you knew what you were doing. That no harm would come to me. I put my life in your hands, Rashid, and my brothers carried me away a raving madman."

"I'm sorry," Rashid said.

"It is your fault, Rashid," Shougo said.

"I did not comprehend..."

"To say the least," Shougo added. "You are a fool and a failure. You should never have left Medinaat-al-Salaam. Perhaps if you had remained there to this day, you could have met your doom in the fury of the Fire Dragon. Isawa Neiko would have lived. Perhaps Isawa Sumi could have had a true Rokugani father. The Council would never have split. I never would have put my trust in you. All in all, I think the world would be a better place, don't you?"

Zul Rashid said nothing. He shook his head slowly, holding his arms to himself.

"Do you know what I think you should do, Zul Rashid?" Shougo asked. The ise zumi loomed over Rashid, dwarfing him. Rashid had not remembered Shougo being so much larger than he.

"Do you know what I think you should do?" Shougo repeated. "Do you know how you could satisfy your guilt and doubt and bring right all that you have done wrong?"

Rashid looked up, his Tainted eyes glowing a pale red.

Shougo stared angrily into the sorceror's eyes. "Zul Rashid," he said. "Do you know what you must do?"

"What must I do?" Rashid asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Never stop fighting," Shougo said, his eyes intense.

Rashid blinked. "What?"

An odd look passed across Hitomi Shougo's face. He seemed confused.

"What did you say?" Rashid asked, his voice rising.

"I said... to surrender to the darkness," the Dragon replied, clearing his throat and glancing about. "Give yourself to the School of Enlightenment. All will be better when you stop fighting. Every time you, fight, you fail. Is this not true?"

Rashid straightened a bit from where he sat. "No," he said. "This is not."

"Isawa Neiko," Shougo replied. "She would still be walking today if not for your selfishness."

"It was not selfishness," Rashid replied, his voice harsh. "The Soul of Shiba might have died had I not risked her and Kassir knew I would take no such chance. There was no way I could have won, but I could still stifle defeat. And that is what I did. Had I not thrown Ofushikai she would be bound in Jigoku even now."

"The Elemental Council?" Shougo asked, laughing. "You were one of two Masters left. Did you think it fitting to abandon Isawa Kujimitsu with no suitable replacements?"

"Kujimitsu is more than capable," Rashid said, his voice steadying. "My Taint is obvious. Had I stayed, the Phoenix would have no credibility left. The Emperor would have executed me himself." Rashid rose to his feet. The ise zumi seemed shorter than the sorceror now.

"Isawa Sumi?" Shougo asked. "By continuing living, you threaten the Soul of Shiba with your darkness."

"And by dying, I serve no purpose," Rashid said. "You beg me to surrender. A third choice, and most foolish of all. To stifle a wound by slicing off the arm?"

Shougo took a step back. "And what of me?" he asked. "I blame you for my madness."

"Oh?" Rashid said mildly. "You seem perfectly lucid now, as you were when you agreed to help me. It was your own choice. You saw through my duplicity completely. Your logic is flawed, spirit, clearly you must be Kuni Ishan's illusion."

"Did you not willingly serve the darkness of the khadi throughout your young life?" Shougo asked.

"Not willingly," Rashid said. "I was as much a slave as you are now, ghost. And I will not be one again. Tell your master that. This dream world of his no longer amuses me. I will not let it control me. Tell him that if I escape, I shall see him dead. If not, and he wishes to kill me, tell him to have it done. At least then I will have rest. But tell him if he wishes to play games, I will not be his pawn any longer. Tell him that, spirit."

"Why don't you tell me yourself, boy?" said a low voice.

Rashid's eyes opened. He still stood within the dark chamber deep in Isawa Tadaka's caves. A single lantern still burned on the floor, and a mirror still stood against one wall. Rashid saw that his condition had not worsened. In fact, the circuitry had begun to recede in places. Kuni Ishan, the khadi who had once called himself Kassir, who had once called himself Rashid's father, stood before him. A twisted sacrificial dagger glinted in the man's hand.

Rashid glanced up. His arms had been bound to the wall in chains laced with jade. A dry smirk crawled across his features. "Why, father," Rashid said with a laugh. "When last we spoke, you seemed so sure that my doom was inevitable. You didn't bind me then. Have you grown weak or have I grown stronger?"

"You have grown arrogant and foolish," Ishan snarled. "Both fatal traits for a prisoner. No matter. Your soul is still bound to Oni no Kaze's. Even in Jigoku, the two of you will drag poor Sumi along with you. It may take longer, but that's fine with me." He held the dagger high above Rashid's chest, preparing to plunge it into the man's heart.

Rashid met Ishan's eyes. "I see it now," Rashid said. "You could not possibly be my father. I could never have sprung from the dry loins of such a coward."

Ishan snarled in mindless fury. The khadi lord's knife dropped from his hand. A loud thump sounded, and Ishan collapsed to the floor, the side of his head crushed at a severe angle.

"Seven Fortunes!" Rashid swore.

Thi'kwithatch, the nezumi he had met in the Church of the Shadow Warrior, stood just at the edge of the lantern's light, his long bamboo cane held in both hands.

"How did you know I was here?" the nezumi asked. "How did you know to distract him like that?" The nezumi scrambled over Ishan's body, quickly producing a ring of large keys.

"Call it distraction if you like, nezumi," Rashid said. "That was a final moment of defiance from a man who had nothing left to lose. Something I learned from the Rokugani."

"Ah," the priest said. He stood and fiddled with the key, releasing Rashid's hands. "Your Taint has increased." His whiskers drooped in concern as he picked up his cane.

"I am not dead yet," Rashid answered, rubbing his tortured wrists. "How did you know where to find me?"

"At first, I followed your scent," Thi'kwithatch replied, touching the side of his grizzled muzzle. "When I found the caverns, I had no idea there would be so many oni. I thought I would never pass them. But then, something led me to a safe entrance, and I was able to find you quickly. I cannot explain it, but there is something here. Something good, fighting against the bad."

Rashid nodded. "I felt it as well. It intruded into Ishan's hallucinations somehow and I owe it my life," he replied. "I think this base of operations was chosen poorly. Isawa Tadaka's evil may live on here, but I think a bit of his heroism lingers as well. If we are fortunate, perhaps he will lead us safely out again."

"What of him?" the nezumi asked, pointing with his cane at the dead sorceror. Already, Ishan's skull had begun to reshape itself, the flesh mending.

"He is immortal," Rashid said with a snarl. "No doubt his heart is far from here. Without it, there is little we can do to him."

"Not so," Thi'kwithatch said. The nezumi knelt and dragged Ishan toward the wall. Rashid grinned when he realized the nezumi's intent, and helped hoist the khadi into his own jade-encrusted manacles.

"I like the way you think, nezumi," the sorceror said.

"My thanks," he said. "Now let us hurry from this place, Zul Rashid. The church needs your help."

Rashid paused. Somewhere within, he was still uncertain. "After all I have done and become?" he asked, holding out his arms to display his twisted body. "After what I did to Shougo, you would still trust me?"

"No," the nezumi said. "But it is no longer a matter of trust. It is a matter of necessity." Thi'kwithatch tucked his cane under one arm and hurried quickly from the chamber, running low on all four limbs.

Rashid glanced back at the bound form of Kuni Ishan once, then turned to follow.

Inago Isek could hardly believe his eyes. The Palace Gates were opening wide. He picked up the radio from the half-track's dashboard, smiling maniacally.

"Fall back," he ordered the vehicles at the gates. "They may be trying to surrender. I want to savor this."

The vehicles pulled back. The soldiers of the Locust readied their weapons, training them on the Palace Gates. For a moment, the City of Otosan Uchi was silent. A line of heavily armored Imperial Guardsmen stood just within the gates, holding large shields that covered most of their bodies. On their backs, they wore large metal tanks and each of them carried a large rifle, attached to the tank by a thick hose.

"That doesn't look like surrender to me," Isek's driver said.

The area before the gates exploded into flame as the flame-throwers advanced, spraying blazing fuel as they edged forward. The Locust mob retreated, screaming. Most of the Locust soldiers were unarmored and untrained; usually they made up for their lack of skill and equipment through sheer numbers and bravado. In the face of the Emperor's fire, their courage began to melt. The Imperial Guard expanded its line outside the gates, and began to move out in a steady hemisphere outside the Palace walls.

"They're trying to break our line!" Isek snarled into the radio. "Send in the half-tracks!" The programmer smiled to himself. Inago had foreseen the eventuality of an Imperial counterattack. He had planned on it.

The six large vehicles rumbled to life and headed for the flames. Their heavy armor allowed them to pass easily through the onslaught. Turret mounted guns on top of each vehicle fired. Two of the flame-throwers fell to the hail of fire. Another went up in a ball of fire as his tank was ruptured, taking two more of his fellows with him. The half-tracks charged as the Imperials retreated to the gates. Only Isek's vehicle remained behind, watching

As the half-tracks reached the gates, the earth surged beneath them. The stones of the street bucked, jamming their wheels. One flipped completely on its side.

"Shugenja!" Isek snapped into the radio. "The Ranbe! Probably hiding in those towers on either side of the gates!"

One of the half-tracks immediately turned its gun toward the nearest tower and opened fire. Lightning hammered down from the sky in retribution, reducing the heavy armored vehicle to slag. The Imperial Guard took advantage of the confusion. A band of six charged from the gates, leaping onto the nearest half-track. The soldiers pried open the small tank's access ports with crowbars and opened fire on the driver and gunner. Dozen of Mantis soldiers flooded out, providing cover fire with their rifles. Some hurled grenades under the wheels of the disabled half-tracks. The vehicles were quickly annihilated.

"Fortunes!" Isek's driver swore. "Did you see that?"

"They're trained killers, what do you expect?" Isek replied impassively. "Don't worry, we still have the advantage." He picked up the radio. "All Locusts, converge upon the gates. The Emperor is in our grasp." Isek threw the radio back down in disgust. The only other remaining half-track turned, now under control of the Imperial Guard. The mobs of Locust soldiers and others who had joined them during the riots swarmed toward the Palace Gates. The Imperial Guard fought back savagely, but slowly began to fall back, their inferior numbers flagging before Locust ferocity.

A great green fire broke out to the east, along the walls of the Palace. The mob churned in confusion, many of them turning to head in that direction or breaking off the attack entirely. Isek's radio produced nothing but static. Annoyed, he opened the door of his half-track and leaped out, grabbing the arm of one man running past.

"What's going on over there?" Isek demanded, pointing at the green flame.

"Ghosts!" the man shouted. "Coming out of the earth!"

Isek peered more closely in the direction of the flame, still holding the man in a tight grip. Two dozen men in ancient style samurai armor lacquered in gold and green had appeared from nowhere, slicing through the Locusts with katana and wakizashi in the ancient daisho technique. Behind them, a dozen shugenja in robes of red and green called upon magic to hurl globes of glowing green flame or enchant the bushi with ghostly radiance. The wizards fought one-handed with swords as they cast their spells.

"They look like Dragons!" Isek said in surprise.

"That's what I said!" the man cried. "They're ghosts!"

"No," Isek shook his head slightly. "This is a ghost." He drew his gun and fired at the man, point-blank. The programmer aimed his pistol at the nearest Dragon and fired. The bushi went down, dead. The Locusts nearby saw this and fought back with more confidence. The Dragons began to fall back. Together with the Imperial Guard, the Dragons might have been able to make a decent stand. As it was, the Locust would crush them both. Isek didn't know where the Dragons came from, and he really didn't care. At the moment, he just wanted them out of the way.

A thundering roar exploded above the Locust mob then, and a great crescent-shaped vehicle cut across the sky. It turned sharply in the air and arced downward, firing a bank of small missiles into the crowd. As the missiles hit, they exploded into clouds of acrid tear gas. The mob grew clumsy and disorganized as they tried to escape the vapors. The Dragons, seemingly immune to the gas, rallied and formed into a tight group, fighting their way through the crowd toward the gates. They fought in a ring, the two dozen bushi and dozen shugenja surrounding a group of equal size, composed of children and elderly.

Isek shook his head as he watched the thing soar away and begin to turn for another pass. Where had that vehicle come from? It looked like a Scarab. The radio on his belt suddenly squawked.

"Isek," Isek said.

"Isek, this is Sekkou," came the reply. "The Locust have been set up. You have to get out of there. Meet me at the harbor, Pier 132. Over."

"You're not serious?" Isek said.

"You heard me," Sekkou snapped back. "Get out of there or you're going to die!"

The programmer felt a chill go through his body at Sekkou's words. The attack did seem to be going poorly. The closer they came, the more things seemed to go wrong. He looked back over his shoulder at the darkened city. One by one, he saw the lights in the buildings begin to turn on once more. Pestilence was slowly being negated. He turned around and jumped back into his half-track, wrapping the seat harness around one shoulder.

"Get us out of here!" Isek said.

"No kidding," the driver replied. "I thought you'd never ask."

The driver put the car into gear and it lurched backward, spinning around to flee back down the street. It started into gear, but then a muffled thud rose from the floor. Isek's world spun and he hit his head on the ceiling, hard. He could taste blood. The driver lay with his head smashed against the armor-plated windshield; he hadn't bothered to strap in. The half-track was laying on its side in the street, and Isek could see little through the front visor. He clawed over the pilot's body and forced open the door, climbing out to look around.

At first, he didn't believe what he was seeing. Dozens of men and women on horseback were galloping through the Locust ranks with naginatas, rifles, and even pistols, cutting off their escape. All of them were dressed in heavy purple armor. The Unicorn.

"Damn!" Isek shouted. He looked down the road, the way he'd intended to run. A line of mounted Shinjo soldiers stood spread across the street, ready for any Locust withdrawal. Isek hopped down from the half-track's side and ran the only way that he could.

Toward the Palace.

The Imperial Guard, the Shinjo, and the Dragons were cutting the Locust Clan to a bloody pulp now. Most of the Locusts were fleeing, though some had chosen to stand and fight. Isek ignored them all, charging through the fray, ducking through shadows, till at last he stood near the very gates of the Palace.

No more running. Here. Here he would find a way to become a part of history.

And he saw his chance. The lens on Isek's eyepiece swiveled. There she was, in perfect detail, hiding in the tower among the Ranbe.

Yoritomo Ryosei, the Imperial Princess.

Isek stooped and lifted a rifle from a dead Wasp. The world slowed around him as he lifted the weapon and took aim. Everyone else seemed to ignore him, wrapped up in their own combat. He stood by himself, in an open space directly before the Palace Gates. He fixed the cross-hairs over the part in the princess' dark hair, and smiled. The Locust attack had failed, but now the Diamond Empire would have something to remember Inago Isek by.

Forever.

Kamiko stepped cautiously toward the security door. She froze when she saw the red light gleaming beside the keypad. The power was on. Somehow, in Dojicorp, the power was on.

It had been nearly a half hour since she had seen Eien and the technician disappear into the building's basements. Surely they would have gone back to their labs by now to repair the damaged armor. Still, she walked slowly and cautiously, not taking any chances. Yoshio, Iku, Hisae, and Chiyo spaced themselves evenly behind her, weapons drawn. None of them wanted to fire upon their own friends and kinsmen. Kamiko didn't want that, either, but she knew that the Daidoji soldiers would do what they had to if they thought she was in danger.

Or would they?

It was ironic. Earlier, she had reassured herself that as long as she held herself with the dignity and courage that Daidoji Eien had, they would follow her on this suicide mission. Now, they knew that Eien was still alive. Not only was he still alive but now he served Asahina Munashi as well?

Maybe Eien knew something she didn't? Maybe Munashi wasn't the villain that Yasu and Hatsu claimed that he was? Maybe...

And maybe her father's last words hadn't meant a thing? Is that what she was saying? That was ridiculous. She knew that the Master of the Gardens was at the heart of this. But what if those who followed her were not so sure? She paused at the door and looked back at them. They seemed confident, but they had been shaken when they saw Eien. She holstered the gun at her belt and turned completely to face them.

"Leave," she said.

"What?" Chiyo laughed. The young technician shook her head vehemently. "We're with you, Kamiko. Till the end."

"Not anymore," she said. "I order all four of you to return to Shotai's at once. I'll take care of this on my own."

"No offense, Kamiko-sama," Hisa said, shrugging his massive shoulders, "but we can't leave you like this. You're not a trained warrior. You don't know how to infiltrate, and you're no killer."

"Hisae," Kamiko said stiffly. "It so happens that I slipped past the Senpet patrols during the Invasion without your help. You may recall that I killed Kitsune Maiko after what she did to my father. Is there really any doubt in your mind that I can't do the same to Asahina Munashi? Would you insult your lady's honor by suggesting such a thing?"

Hisae opened his mouth to reply, but shook his head with a grunt.

"It's not that, Kamiko," Yoshio said, stepping in front of Hisae. "It's just... we know what you're doing. We saw Eien, too. You know that we served Eien. All of us worked with him for a long time. You're afraid that we won't be willing to fight him for you, if it comes to that, aren't you?"

"That isn't for you to judge," she replied. "You acknowledged me as your daimyo, all of you. If you meant anything by that, listen to me know. Return to Shotai's at once. I'll handle Munashi."

"You'll die," Iku said flatly. The Daidoji's normal sense of humor was gone. Iku's face was flat and serious. "Munashi's a killer, Kamiko. You heard about what he has up there in his gardens. If all of us go, there's a chance one of us will live long enough to finish him off. Go there alone, and he'll kill you."

"I can't risk any of you," she said. "Eien is following him now. Who's to say we aren't wrong?"

"And who's to say we're not right?" Iku asked. "Maybe that's not Eien. And, no disrespect intended, Kamiko-sama, but it really isn't your place to send us home. It's our job to die for you. Now who's insulting who's honor?"

Kamiko was stunned. She looked from the eyes of one Daidoji to the next. "Do all of you feel the same way?" she asked.

They nodded.

"Then let's go," she replied. She pressed several numerals onto the keypad by the security door. It was an ancient code she had hacked from her father's files long ago, an all purpose pass code that was hardwired into the system. Munashi couldn't have changed it if he tried. The door opened with a hiss.

Kamiko and the four Daidoji entered Dojicorp.

Daniri saw light.

He could feel the stress of tons of debris weighing down upon Akodo. That bizarre stone samurai had collapsed the ceiling on his head, incapacitating him completely and knocking him out from the shock. He must have been out for hours. Checking the time on his sensor panels, he found that only twenty minutes had passed. Damn.

Another chunk of steel peeled away, revealing more light. Then another. Slowly, the stone tomb covering the Akodo War Machine worked itself away. Daniri imagined there must have been a team of heavy maintenance machines and workmen struggling to free him. His upper body free, he sat up and shrugged away most of the rest of the pile, then looked around to find his rescue party.

He saw his brother and two Crabs. One of them, he recognized.

"Yasu," Daniri said. "Thanks."

"Thank me later," Yasu said. "What the hell was that thing you were fighting?"

"I haven't a clue," Daniri answered. "It looked like a Crab, from its armor."

"Daniri," Jiro said. "It killed Ikoma Keijura."

Akodo rose from the rubble, flexing its arms at its side. A mechanical growl rose from inside the robotic body. Its eyes seemed to glow with anger. "Why?" Daniri snarled. "What's going on here? Why did all of those people have to die?"

"I think..." mumbled a feminine voice. "I think I can answer that." A small woman entered the studio, stumbling on the debris. She threw one hand out to brace herself on the wall, her footing uncertain and clumsy.

Twin lights on Akodo's chest plate illuminated the studio, fixing the woman in a bright spotlight.

"Fortunes," Daniri swore. "Kochiyo."

"You know her?" Yasu asked.

"Yeah," Daniri said quietly. "I know her."

"Yasu," Hayato said. "We have to get out of here. That monster made a lot of noise and the power seems to be back on. If we don't get out of here soon, we'll have a lot of Matsu to deal with."

"Jiro and I are coming, too," Daniri said. "I'd bet we're not too popular with Gohei right now either."

Shosuro Kochiyo looked up at Akodo tentatively. "Can I... can I come with you? I think I'd be safer with you, Daniri."

"We can't trust her," Daniri said stiffly.

"Not a consideration," Yasu replied. "If she knows where that Tainted Crab came from, she's coming. I'll carry her myself if I have to."

"Fine," Daniri shot back. "Just remember, I warned you." Akodo stomped out of the studio, cement and plaster crunching under massive steel feet.

Jiro and the Crabs followed. Hayato wrapped one arm around Kochiyo's shoulders, helping the slim Scorpion walk. Hayato thought she seemed clumsy, unsure of how to put one foot in front of the other. She must have been through something terrible.

And inside of Kochiyo, Sen, the Dark Oracle of Air watched them all with a smile.

It was him.

Standing there, clear, in the midst of the battlefield that had once been the Diamond Palace, Saigo saw him. He was far away and the Crescent Moon was flying over the crowd at tremendous speed, but he features of the bald man fixed perfectly into his mind. Eyepiece... one eye... it had been the man he had seen earlier, in his brief but terrifying vision. Saigo wheeled the Crescent Moon about and turned sharply.

"Thunders, Saigo, what are you doing?" Ginawa shouted, flying forward in his seat.

Saigo could see the bald man take a rifle from the ground, the weapon of a dead man.

"That man in front of the gates!" Saigo shouted. "Open fire on that man!"

"With what?" Mikio asked, glancing from Saigo to the monitors. "We fired all the missiles."

The man took aim on one of the towers beside the gates.

"Saigo, what are you doing?" Ginawa repeated.

"Brace yourselves," Saigo said. He threw the Crescent Moon into a dive.

"Saigo!" Ginawa shouted.

The Moon screamed down toward the battlefield. Saigo felt the wind cut over the ships skin as it gained speed, moving under his control. The man steadied the rifle's scope to his eye.

Saigo accelerated.

At the last moment, the man glanced up. His eye opened wide in utter shock as the Crescent Moon slammed into him at over two hundred miles an hour. Saigo forced all of his will into the controls, trying vainly to pull out of the dive. A terrible, wrenching shudder tore through the Moon as it struck some sort of obstruction. Another shock ran through the vehicle as it thumped into the ground and bounced, but the incredible armor of the vehicle kept it in one piece. The vehicle spun crazily, the sound of screeching, tearing metal sounding through the cockpit. After a half minute of terror, the vehicle stopped suddenly.

"What in the name of all Seven Thunders was that Saigo?" Mikio shouted, grabbing the prophet by the collar of his jacket.

"I'm sorry," Saigo said. "It was... I had another prophecy... I had to stop him..."

"Pretty permanently, I see," Akiyoshi said, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She pointed at one of the monitors, its view now completely covered in a red smear.

"I hope it was worth it, Saigo," Ginawa said curtly, staring angrily into another monitor.

Saigo didn't have too look; he already knew what he had done. Nonetheless, he turned his eyes toward the monitors. He saw the spires of the Diamond Palace stretching above them. He saw the swath of destruction the Crescent Moon had carved across the courtyard. He saw the Palace Gates. One hung at an awkward angle. The other lay shattered on the street, directly in the Moon's Path.

Isawa Saigo had brought down the Palace Gates for the third time.

TO BE CONTINUED