---Tahj---

     I pick at the scorpion meat, my stomach growling. Too bad that bird-beast didn't leave behind a carcass. And here I thought we'd be eating good tonight. A slight breeze ruffles the flaps of the tent. Crawford's snoring is enough to make me want to shove a pillow over his face until he suffocates. But pillows were a luxury of the pre-End universe.

     It's cold on my end of the tent tonight. Comma's out there sitting with her head in her lap next to the rip we tore open. Some people just don't know when to give up hope. Not that I think for a second that Em's gone and gotten himself killed—I have faith in the kid. I just don't happen to think we'll ever be seeing him again.

     Crawford snorts and jerks awake. He wipes his eyes and scratches his bearded chin. Maybe it's just my eyes playing tricks on me, but it looks like he's already starting to thin out. A strict diet of raw scorpion meat will do that to a guy.

     He stretches and shakes the sand out of his shirt. "What happened to the Aussie?"

     I shrug. "Beats the hell out of me. Said he had to go consult with the gods. Whatever that means." Grayson had been just as stumped as we had about how to get past the wind barrier. You'd think being a shaman and all would grant him special privileges. Apparently he's out of the loop.

     Crawford shifts his weight around. "Do you think there's a God out there?"

     "I think there's a god in here," I say, nodding at Miu-sama, who's fast asleep. Half of her paper-doll body hangs out of the pocket of my backpack. "Besides, didn't you say you saw one of those terrestrials with your own eyes?"

     "Don't remind me." Crawford shakes his head. "What I meant was... You know. God, capital G. It's just... I've been thinking about it lately, you know?"

     This is new. Gotta say, I had basement-dweller here pegged as an atheist. The guy's very demeanour reeks of someone who believes the universe is a cruel and meaningless place. And based on what we've seen so far, he'd be right to think so.

     "Why's that?" I ask.

     "Well..." He lowers his head. "Sometimes I think it would've been better if when the world ended, we'd gone along with it."

     "You thinking about offing yourself, big fella?"

     "What? Hell no. I'm just saying..." Crawford grabs a handful of sand and lets it spill through his fingers. "I used to be scared of dying. That wake-up-in-cold-sweats kind of scared. The thought of dropping dead from a heart attack made me so anxious I almost gave myself one. But that's all gone now. Now, I'm just scared of dying horribly."

     I close my eyes. I can still see the mutilated bodies of my slain friends, all mangled together in the blood-soaked sands. And hell, the first time I saw a glowdark do someone in, I wretched so hard I thought I was going to cough up a lung too.

     "I hate to break it to you buddy," I say, "but everybody dies horribly."

     Grayson returns at the crack of dawn. I'm up in a heartbeat; these days, it's in your best interest to be a light sleeper. I stretch a little bit and nudge Miu-sama awake. Shikigami sure love their beauty sleep. I place her on top of my shoulder and then draw back the flaps of the tent, stepping out into the muggy morning air.

     Much to my disappointment, Grayson hasn't brought any more dead scorpions back with him. Guess we'll be running on empty stomachs today. At this rate, we won't even need the zillbane; there'll be so little meat on our bones that the glowdarks won't even bother with us.

     On the bright side, nothing to eat means nothing to digest. Since departing from the village, we've lacked the convenience of plumbing. It's a long walk to the nearest ditch, so it becomes a matter of weighing privacy against safety; Grayson's glowdark-repelling mojo only works within a limited radius. And I'm not about to have him staring over my shoulder while I relieve myself.

     Comma sighs, still sitting cross-legged next to the rip. "Well?"

     "I picked up on their scent," says Grayson, tipping his hat.

     "Whose scent?" I ask, stretching my limbs.

     "The spirit animals."

     I frown, remembering the humongous jackals and their blood-red fur. "What do you want to track them down for?"

     Grayson and Comma exchange a look. Okay, clearly I've missed out on something here. Question is, do I really want to know?

     Answer is, yes.

     "What's going on?"

     "I have a plan," says Comma. "To get us through the barrier."

     "I'm all ears. Well, technically I've only got the two, and those are clogged with sand."

     "We can't break through it." Comma hesitates. "But there is someone who can."

     "And who might that be?"

     Comma points a finger skyward. It takes me a good minute to realize she's pointing at the sun. So that's it. The terrestrial. If anyone can undo the magical barrier standing between us and the zillbane, it's a deity.

     "And you think his or her holiness will just wave away that little obstacle for us? A little deus ex machina? Call me crazy, but I don't think that's how this trial thing's supposed to work."

     "It might take a little... coaxing," Comma mutters. The white streak in her hair glistens for a brief moment. Her meaning becomes clear.

     "You're going to slaughter the spirit animals, aren't you?"

     She grins. "Let's call it a ritual sacrifice."

     Miu-sama growls on my shoulder but remains silent. Me, on the other hand...

     "Doesn't that sound a little... oh, I don't know... evil?" I look at Grayson. "Are you really okay with—" I cut myself off. Of course he doesn't give a damn; the first thing we ever saw him do was rip one of those crimson jackals to shreds. And here I thought being hand-picked by the gods to serve as their personal shaman would breed loyalty. Who am I kidding? I don't know a single person who wouldn't jump on a chance to stick it to their boss.

     "If you know of any better way to get a terrestrial's attention, I'd love to hear it," says Comma. "Otherwise, shut up and pack up your things. We're heading out again."

     Though I'm not sure how I feel about this plan of hers, I opt not to argue with Comma. Something tells me that once she sets her mind on something, there's no convincing her otherwise.

     Crawford places a hand on my shoulder and shakes his head. "I know what you're thinking. But now's not the time to be pondering the intricacies of morality. And besides, these spirit animal things have a track record of trying to kill us."

     Morality aside, I'd feel a whole lot better about this whole thing if I still had my AK. We set out on our trek across the dunes, with tiger Grayson leading the way and Comma bringing up the rear. She's got her scimitar equipped from the get-go. Crawford called dibs on the last of the grenades. Fine with me; Miu-sama's a much more reliable weapon.

     We tear open rips every twenty meters or so. Sort of like breadcrumbs, to mark our path. And also to check whether or not there are any jackals in the area. And it's a good thing too; about a half-hour in, I tug at the air to peel open a rip and nothing happens. Grayson halts, sniffing around.

     Just like last time, the jackals come tunnelling towards us through the sand. They burst up onto the surface, and this time there's twice as many. They circle around us, waiting for us to make the first move.

     "Let's be reasonable about this," says Comma, tracing her finger along the blade of her scimitar. "Tell your god to remove the wind barrier around the zillbane, and we all walk away from this. Otherwise, we'll cut you down one by one until she has a change of heart."

     The jackals growl lowly, continuing to circle us like vultures. Giant, four-legged crimson vultures with fangs. Grayson growls back.

     Comma tilts her head in Miu-sama's direction. "Well?"

     Miu-sama presses her fingers to her temples. "I do not sense any alteration in the flow of mystical energies. The barrier has not been removed."

     Comma sighs. "Guess we've got to do this the hard way." She bursts into a sprint. One of the jackals accepts her challenge and begins scampering towards her. Neither relents; Comma's scimitar flashes as they collide, lopping the jackals head off clean. Its brethren whimper.

     Something must've changed in her when she underwent the trials; even I can sense the immense aura gushing forth from her pores. Her power is overwhelming. She twirls the scimitar around in a blatant display of showmanship.

     "How about now?" she asks without turning around, staring down another of the jackals.

     "Negative," Miu-sama reports. "Though I am detecting—"

     The ground rumbles, throwing us off balance. Geysers of sand erupt all around us, a jackal bursting forth from each and every one of them. And they don't stop. Within seconds, we're surrounded by a full-blown army of jackals. There has to be at least a hundred.

     "I knew this was a bad idea," I shout over their cacophonous howls.

     "Release me, now!" Miu-sama orders.

     I perform the seal, slamming my palms together. "Kai!"

     What follows is bloody chaos, emphasis on the blood. Grayson takes on seven jackals at once. They tear into him like a pack of rabid wolves. The weretiger gives as good as he gets; their flesh melds together into a writhing heap of flashing teeth and dripping gore.

     Crawford yanks the pin out of a grenade and hurls it into the crowd of jackals. It rolls over in the sand. A dud. They trample over it as they come dashing towards us. Miu-sama erects a mystical barrier, which the jackals crash into. The sheet of rose-coloured energy prevents them from sinking their teeth into our throats. They continue to ram into the force-field, causing cracks to spread all along it.

     Comma gets the worst of it. She dances like a ballerina, leaping and twirling across the battlefield. Each slice of her scimitar is calculated and efficient. She cuts down a foe with every stroke of her blade. But that only pisses them off even more. One moment she's taking on ten of them simultaneously. The next moment, thirty jackals pile on top of her.

     But I don't have time to watch her die; the force-field shatters and the jackals descend upon us. Miu-sama lashes out at them, expounding a series of sonic waves that detonate when they find a target. The detonations cause the jackals' heads to explode. But it's not enough; more and more of them torpedo forward. Grayson goes down. It dawns on me that this isn't a battle we can win.

     I look at Crawford. "Time to die horribly."

     I close my eyes. Wait for the jackals to sink their teeth into me.

     And then gunfire erupts all around us. The shells ricochet off the jackals' bristly fur. But then someone fires a rocket launcher right into the midst of them. Hot blood splashes over my face and clothing. Then there's another explosion. And another.

     When I open my eyes, a girl with curly dark hair grins at me from behind the scope of a rocket launcher. Next to her, Gail lowers her bazooka, the barrel still smoking. Topher spits and reloads his machine gun.

     Three jackals cling to Comma, who's somehow managed to survive. Em marches through the smoke and bashes their heads in with a baseball bat. He holds out his hand and helps her back to her feet.

     Then he grins and wipes his forehead with his sleeve. "Sorry we're late."

Author's Note:

Someone's going to die horribly by the end of this arc, aren't they?

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