6Chapter 10 - Devour
A/N: Right…for a couple of reasons, it took a while to get back to updating this. A goodly part of it was that I was viciously assaulted by an FFVII plot-bunny, and was forced to purge the damned thing by writing it as a Valentine's Day special. As for the other reason (at least, the main other reason)… I have to say, this chapter was a cast-iron bitch to write. In many respects, I'm still unsatisfied with it; as such, it may be reworked in a relatively heavy fashion once I'm done.
Note: :Blahblahblah.: denotes non-verbal communication. I got the idea from the author Mercedes Lackey's various works.
"Ok Raijin, now we need to land…"
"Got it, ya know?" Smoothly, almost seamlessly, Raijin began to adjust the flight controls, the Ragnorak pinnace gliding downward with lazy grace.
With the repeated shuttling of personnel and supplies between Trabia Garden's position and the makeshift landing pad which was the closest an airship could alight near the recently discovered mineshaft, Raijin's repeated and enthusiastic requests to have a go at flying the pinnace had finally been granted… And to Nida's initial surprise, the musclebound fool actually took to the complex flight controls like a duck to water.
When he'd thought about it later, Nida had to admit that it actually made a certain amount of sense. Raijin Kazeno, he'd learned over the years, remained unrepentantly stupid in most areas…but could prove extremely knowledgeable regarding that which truly interested him. Then he would take the effort to learn every rule, internalise the most minute detail concerning that subject. For instance, his interest in the quarterstaff as a weapon had matured into a skill with the pole which was unparalleled anywhere in the world – and his more recent interest in teaching, combined with that skill, had made him independently wealthy. So Raijin had watched Nida's – and Selphie's – swift and sure actions like a hawk, and asked question after stupid question, and…well, he remembered it all. Probably he'd have trouble with pulling the more complex manoeuvres, but he could already do anything routine with minimal stress to all involved.
Which was probably a very good thing, given what had just come into view below them. Nida had to be available, to restrain his wife if she blew up at the sight of the hunter. After all, Fujin had taken a distinct dislike to the man who looked so much like the former SeeD commander, maybe even before Pandemona's reaction had sunk in. (And the hunter's reaction to her truncation of his fight hadn't helped either…) His small, furtive smirk at the thought widened into a true smile at the sight below.
Irvine Kinneas was the first to emerge onto the lip of the precipice over the mineshaft, wearily stretching. Selphie followed, tucking herself under his arm. Then, the two members of Irvine's party; they looked to be alright, though the girl seemed to be distraught and the pair seemed to be holding each other upright. Nida heaved a sigh of relief; all three of the lost Trabians seemed to be safe, along with their Headmistress. And then…
The hunter came into view – borne on a stretcher.
There was a blur of movement to his right – and Fujin was standing beside him, glaring down upon the scene. Her chakra gripped in a white-knuckled hand… which suddenly relaxed.
If Pandemona had ceased its internal harangue… He must be dead, then. And then his gaze rose to her face.
Her mouth, which had fixed into an increasingly flat line over the hours since she'd first laid eyes on the inert hunter below them, was hanging open and slack. The rage – and the fear which lurked beneath – had dissipated instantly, without a trace. To be replaced by something…unfamiliar to him…?
He leaned over, head brushing against the crystalline window, to get a better look at her right side, at her eye. Fujin had never been one for great emotional displays, other than through her voice. But her feelings usually shone through that sole crimson orb, for those who took the time to learn.
Nida saw, first and foremost, shock. With undertones of relief – which at least fit the 'he's dead' theory; she'd truly been spooked by Pandemona's reaction to the hunter. But under that…
"SQUALL…"
…Was she…awestruck…? "Fujin, what is it?"
Her hand left the chakra, to settle unerringly on his own. "PANDEMONA…SEES…" And she turned round to head back to her console, her lovely face a mystery.
"What the…?"
—ox-oxo-xo—
Thick, clinging, impenetrable darkness. There was nothing here. Nothing save himself… and The Lion.
Sweat ran down his face and torso in rivulets, his gunblade whistling with the speed of its frantic passage of desperate blocks and attacking moves. He spared no thought for the surreality of his tenebrous surroundings, of his fight. Had he done so, he would have been unable to ignore the sheer illogic of his current straits.
His gunblade, fending away The Lion's claws and teeth and tail without blunting. His item stocks, which would have long been depleted were such a fight to be conducted in the real world. The several mortal wounds which he had sustained – which had faded to nothing, simply because, like all the other irrelevant discrepancies of this place (sight without light, gravity without ground, so on so forth), he had simply ignored them to continue in his fight.
The only point of incongruity on which he allowed himself to focus, was the fact that despite his own lethal blows, The Lion just WOULD. NOT. DIE…
—ox-oxo-xo—
Quistis shot forward in her seat. "…And he has the ring now?"
Selphie ran a hand through her still-damp hair. Damn, showers are good…Irvine would be better though… Irvine, regrettably, was utterly exhausted after sleeping for so little over the past week; she'd reluctantly left him to eat, clean up and sleep at his own pace. At least he had the luxury of doing so; Selphie had barely given herself the time to scrub herself clean before stepping out to do battle with the bespectacled former SeeD. "Yeah… We tried to get the thing out of his hand, but it's like it's welded shut…"
The scientist breathed out, relaxing a little for the first time since Selphie had presented her glowering visage in person. "It's a good thing you couldn't. I don't even want to think about what might have happened if you'd succeeded."
Selphie blinked, letting her fury over her old friend's behaviour simmer down to an ember of itself. She knew Quistis must have had a good reason to piss her off so much.
When she returned to Trabia Garden, she'd expected at least a little celebration. After all, Irvy and the kids were alright. She'd expected Ellone and Quisty, and maybe Zell and Matron, there to welcome them back. But no – when they got back, she was confronted with a wave of SeeDs. Not celebrating. Taking Squall into custody. They'd politely ignored her orders to take him to the infirmary. They'd completely ignored their own Headmistress; except for one very low-ranked SeeD, who'd probably been ordered to perform this onerous duty simply because there was no-one of lower rank who he could order to do it, who handed her a short note before running for his life.
Quistis had unilaterally usurped her authority, using some arcane regulation from SeeD's early days which had never been repealed. (Ellone had greeted her with a quick hug, before being dragged off by Fujin, of all people.) And Selphie was pissed… Merely the thought of it all brought her rage back to the boil.
Zell roused. Over the years, he at least seemed to have finally mastered the art of laying low when animosity was in the air. "What do you mean? It's just his ring isn't it?"
Quistis frowned, hopefully wondering how to leave the room alive.
The comatose hunter rested two rooms over…in the brig. In the room between this one and his relocated (and heavily strapped, not to mention shackled) infirmary bed, no less than a dozen SeeD combat specialists stood guard – weapons drawn, and practically blazing with high-level defensive spells. More were stationed in adjoining rooms, in case Squall somehow punched his way through a steel-enforced concrete wall to attempt escape. Commander Seifer Almasy himself stood vigil in Squall's holding-cum-infirmary cell, his own gunblade drawn, and heavily junctioned.
But then, she realised, Squall's Limit form might well actually be able to smash down some walls… No, if Quisty had done this, there had to be a good reason for it. She chanted it like a silent mantra, hoping it would restrain her from doing something oh-so-horrifically satisfying to the former instructor.
"If it ever was, it's not any more…" Quistis marshalled her thoughts. "'The Lion' – that's what you called it, Selphie?"
"That's what the 'scan' said…" she muttered.
"The Lion is not truly a Limit break. As you suspected at the time, my research leads me to believe that it's actually a Guardian Force. A GF which is unknown to us. A GF which manifests in our world, by transforming the summoner." Selphie wouldn't have reigned as Headmistress of Trabia Garden for twenty-three years if she were stupid; her furious gaze dropped, relaxing into a more contemplative mien. "I've done a lot of research over the years, into the GFs. Now, what happens when a GF's host is killed?"
Selphie and Zell shrugged.
Zell's wife, however, cleared her throat. "I believe your first thesis stated that the GF would usually abandon the host's mind and return to the dimension in which their spiritual essence dwells, eventually finding another mind in which to reside." The three ex-SeeDs stared at the matronly mostly-housewife. "I am a librarian. I do read."
Quistis smiled, "Well done. That was a pretty obscure thesis – I'm surprised you found it."
Mary Dincht shrugged, "Well, one of my colleagues was a Trepie. She tracked it down. It was really pretty interesting."
"Thank you…" Quistis looked around at the others. "The problem now, is that 'The Lion' isn't just residing in Squall's mind – it's possessing his body in the form of a Limit break. That is, when he's close to death. Now, what happens when Squall dies – and the GF doesn't want to leave?"
—ox-oxo-xo—
Zena straightened in her chair for a moment, sighing with satisfaction; the edge of her hunger had finally been blunted. Not that she was done, far from it. She leant back over her bowl, wielding her spoon with renewed enthusiasm. Next to her, Zamal had not even reached that stage yet, still shovelling Mrs. Moogle's Cake into his ravenous maw with single-minded determination.
Pig… Then it happened to cross her mind that several times during their sojourn in the mine, her brother had quietly handed a sizeable portion of his rations to her, claiming he couldn't stomach them. It had never occurred to her before that he'd been lying. She probably should've realised; after all, Instructor Irvine hadn't stopped him from doing it after the first time it had happened. The silly idiot had actually been starving himself!
She spared him a smile, and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, never pausing in the demolition of his dessert. She returned to her own bowl, her mind beginning to work once again on assimilating all that had happened over the past week. In several respects, it wasn't easy – and probably wouldn't have been even if she wasn't exhausted to begin with.
Zena's infatuation with the handsome Instructor had lessened, though she thought it might linger for a long while. Most likely, she figured, because she had simply given up on her hopes of ever getting him – unlike the several others who still nurtured their crushes. She smirked at the knot of sighing girls surrounding Instructor Kinneas and his own meal, thanking her lucky stars that she no longer counted herself among their number. (Not that she ever had before. She'd always thought herself more deserving of his attentions then the rest. Then again, so had they…) No, Zena knew now just how much he doted on his wife. Fixing her feelings upon Irvine had been nothing more than wishful thinking.
Besides, she thought she might prefer him as a father-figure – after all, he'd given her some good advice, when she took the time to think about it. (Zena made a mental note to get back in touch with her actual parents; she supposed she should go about trying to forgive them…) The jarring ring of her spoon scraping the bottom of her empty bowl brought her back to reality for a moment; she pushed it aside, looking up at last at the three other sorceresses resident at Trabia Garden, sitting across from her. Zena wondered for a moment if they'd been saying anything, or if they'd just been waiting for her to finish.
She knew what they were there for. All were older than her (though not by that much, the oldest was in her late twenties), all had their own guardians – but all of them shared her fascination with the starring players of the ultimate tale of sorceress-knight romance.
"So…did you really find Squall the Lionheart?"
A dreamy smile spread across her face, just for a moment, before that reality crashed down on her again. "Yeah… He doesn't remember anything, though. He's just…"
The three sorceresses shot forward, spouting a flurry of questions. Zena tried to answer them – what he looked like, how she met him, what cool things did he do, what he said, so on, so forth – even as she attempted to deal with what seemed the greatest of her past week's tribulations.
Now that she actually thought of it, Squall hadn't looked particularly handsome… The multitude of scars, that hideous beard, the tattered clothes, that big scruffy mop of hair… Why was she so attracted to him? And not just like the others, who simply loved the story of Squall the Lionheart? Something had drawn her to the dishevelled old hunter like a moth to a flame…something inside her…
One of the girls snapped her fingers in Zena's face, bringing her back to reality again. She was beginning to hate reality… "What was that about a new spell?"
She blinked. And suddenly smiled, and gripped her brother's hand. And, with a deep breath, drew on the sorceress power…
Squall had been right! Stop thinking about it, and just do it!
…Of course, Headmistress Selphie had been right too. With so many people around the cafeteria, with so much information suddenly clamouring for her attention at once, she was rapidly becoming queasy. Swallowing, she felt the grip on her hand tighten. Her gaze swung up, through the surrounding haze of translucent magic, to meet Zamal's own mirror-like gaze; it seemed that she'd cast the spell on him, too—
Time stopped. Or at least, it stopped mattering, gently disconnecting the sorceress and her knight from the mundane universe around them without ceremony or notice. The inner voice which had so eagerly tried to narrate dozens of different people and objects the moment she'd laid eyes on them…dwindled to silence.
The sensation was, quite simply, beyond words.
He did love her. He really did. And in that moment, she couldn't even bring herself to be embarrassed about it.
Eventually, the pair separated. Not fully, no, never fully. Enough, though, to reclaim their individual senses. Zamal's eyes were shimmering, not just from her spell, but from unshed tears. "…You did it. The super-scan…" And they traded tremulous, awestruck smiles. Then they started to take notice of their surroundings once more.
Around them, the world had frozen. Not like before – just into a mundane tableau of shock. Her sorceress compatriots were gaping, their jaws hanging forgotten. The students ringing Irvine had whirled round to stare at the spectacle, eyes popping. Various SeeDs and other students were groping absentmindedly at where their weapons would have been if they weren't in a weapons-free zone. Even Irvine whipped off his stetson, his eyebrows raised as high as they could go.
And they were all looking at—
"Uh…Zena?"
"…Yeah, Zamal?"
"…Why is everyone…looking at me…?"
The young sorceress turned to look at her knight, careful not to drown in his gentle, glorious (and slightly panicking) eyes this time. Then up.
"Uh…Zamal?"
"…Yeah, Zena?"
"Uh… There's a…you've got a…" She took another breath. In all of history, over all the hundreds of sorceresses and their knights, going back hundreds of years, there was but one time this had ever happened before… "…A halo…?"
Her brother blinked…and shrugged. The 'halo' (which to her eyes was more of a blazing aura the colour of sunlight on clean snow, wreathing his shoulders and making his head look like there was a gigantic candle burning directly behind him) shrugged with him. "…If you say so...? Your wings are out, by the way…" She looked over her shoulder. So they are… Though they faded into invisibility even as she watched; Zamal's halo faded back to something which only she could see, and only because the 'area-scan' spell, as Squall had called it, remained active. Their impromptu audience took a collective breath.
"What…how…?"
She looked across the table to the stunned sorceress which had spoken, almost instinctively tuning out the spell-guide which tried to enlighten her as to the sorceress's current emotional state. "Oh…um, it's the spell Squall showed us. It's like a scan spell, only it scans everything around you instead of just one thing. And it can do other stuff too! Like…"
"…Zena." There was something…something in the way her brother spoke to her. It demanded attention, and now. He was staring at…the far wall? No, her own scan-voice informed her, further, behind and above the wall… She followed suit…
"…I see it."
And Zena and Zamal stood, their chairs toppling as they sprinted for the exit.
—ox-oxo-xo—
"…Can you confirm this?" Gilgamesh asked, the fingers of his four hands drumming uncertainly upon their hilts.
Phoenix flapped its magnificent wings. :I am uncertain. I have not had to revive him for a long time. He calls upon me only to fight. My link to him may be too weak.:
"Eden, what think you?" They looked down.
Below them, the massive bulk of the Guardian Force pulsed, :He must be bound. If he is not, then his journey must be ended. Before it is too late.:
"Kupo-po?" Perched atop Boko's broad yellow back, the tiny moogle darted a concerned glance up at the humanoid swordswielder.
"If he is not strong enough… Dare we chance this forgetful mortal's resolve? And will his comrades have the power?"
"Kweh!" Boko jumped exuberantly, almost dislodging Mog.
Gilgamesh shrugged two of his shoulders, laying hand to the hilt of a sword. "Well, he'll eat Zantetsuken if they fail."
:Let them attempt it; we will assist. We must. Convey it to your host.:
:I will try to assist with the initial link. I can do that much…: the firebird added.
The lilac-sparkling mote to which they spoke began to dwindle in brilliance. "I will."
"…THEY WILL HELP." Taking a deep breath, her grip on Nida's hand tightening, Fujin looked up into Ellone's waiting gaze. "PHOENIX, GILGAMESH, EDEN."
"Eden?" Nida gaped at her. "We lost Eden, didn't we?"
"EDEN." Fujin knew the GF histories as well as Nida, and he was correct. Eden had departed without ceremony, following SeeD's victory over Sorceress Ultimecia; the titanic Guardian Force had manoeuvred itself in a position to join Squall's party in the first place for the sole reason of aiding in the defeat of the powerful sorceress. For the single most powerful GF in the world to offer its aid once more was in itself an ominous sign. But she would trust Pandemona with her life…which indeed she was doing. "FOR THIS ONLY."
Ellone took her other hand, hope and guilt warring in her eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this? It might not work. And I don't know how dangerous it'll be…"
More than you know… Of all of them, she best knew the stakes; she didn't think she had it in her to explain the sheer danger of what she planned – let alone the most likely final result. But… She had her own debts to pay to the man who had once, ever so briefly, been her commander. And Pandemona had asked it of her. She nodded.
Footsteps pounded towards the office. Two students appeared in the doorway, breathing hard, hand in hand. She squinted at them. Oh, the ones we rescued… The male was staring, rather puzzled, at Ellone. The female, on the other hand, was staring at her. Fujin's gaze began to heat…
"You'll need us." Zena Sorbonne tried gulping air; Fujin noticed that her eyes were glowing silver.
Zamal Sorbonne, who was breathing a little easier, remembered his manners. "…Sorry for interrupting. We don't really know what you're doing…" And so were his eyes. Pandemona shifted, paying the pair closer attention. "…But you don't have the power to do it."
Zena nodded, straightening. "But we do."
Ellone and Nida blinked, darting looks at each other and Fujin. (Meanwhile, Irvine came to a gasping halt behind the sorceress and knight.)
:…Perfect!:
Whatever they were getting at, Pandemona suddenly relaxed in her mind's eye, far more sanguine about their collective chances.
"…AFFIRMATIVE."
—ox-oxo-xo—
"Alright, I get why you called us in. But what's so damn important about Squall's ring?" Zell's query carried clearly through the open door, past the dozen SeeDs, into the brig. Seifer winced; even after over three decades, something about Chicken-wuss's voice still pissed him off.
Seifer Almasy tuned out Trepe's response. It wasn't like he particularly cared. All he really needed to know was: if Squall turns into a giant monster, kill him dead.
How he felt about that… well, he didn't really have an opinion. For all the monstrous things Seifer himself had done under Ultimecia's command, he hadn't actually turned into a flesh-and-blood monster. As such, he figured, Squall – or whoever it was, under all those scars and all that hair – was shit out of luck if he turned into a giant monster and then asked him for mercy. (His actual feelings on the matter...were something he recognised would be more appropriately examined later.) In any case, he'd noticed over the years, giant monsters tended not to ask for mercy in the first place. Like, ever. So, kill the giant monster was good enough for him.
So to tune out Chicken and the others, his thoughts drifted over the various women he could persuade to spend some quality time with him when he had the chance. Hmm… His eyes drifted to his left, through the door; one of the SeeD guards was looking at him. Hmm… Long blonde hair, dancing blue eyes, cute face, maybe mid-20's… His gaze flickered over her figure, not too obviously in case she took offence, though he didn't think she would (a few decades of practice and experience helped enormously in that respect). And indeed, the svelte blonde took that moment to stretch her legs a little, her dress skirt innocuously riding up to offer a little something extra for his subtle, knowing scrutiny.
Seifer's eyes flickered back over to Squall's heavily restrained form, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards a little. Think I'll follow that one up later… She actually kind of looked like Quistis, come to think of it. …Wonder if I can find a spare whip somewhere… Then he noted a flash of motion past the prone hunter, and all amorous thoughts fled his mind.
Given the White SeeD deputy's chequered past as a knight for Sorceress Ultimecia, Seifer had suffered more than his share of nightmares. The things he had done, the things he'd ordered done, the things done to him. (The missile attack on Trabia Garden. The assault on Balamb Garden. The invasion of Esthar. Torturing Squall, feeding Rinoa to Adel. Repeated, disgustingly kinky sex acts performed at Matron's behest – those memories were actually some of the worst, and thank Hyne she didn't seem to remember any of that…) Well, the form which materialised across from Squall's bed was not a major nightmare, but certainly had a starring role in a few of them…
Hyperion snapped up, aimed squarely at the cloaked apparition. "You…"
Gilgamesh looked him up and down, his shoulders shaking in a silent chuckle. "Stay your blade, mortal. I have not come for you."
One of his hands reached down to a very familiar hilt. Seifer snapped to combat stance, gunblade in his left hand still pointed directly at the GF's broad chest.
Cerulean eyes in that grey, hideous face seemed to widen for a moment. "…Ah! Odin's killer, are you not?" This time his laugh was louder, like a dry whetstone scraped across a jagged blade's edge.
"Don't you fucking dare! If anyone's killing him, it's me…" he spat.
Gilgamesh looked at him for a moment, before returning to his vigil over the hunter. "You would fail. Mortal, this is beyond your ken. His fate rests in his own hands, and those of others." The GF's head cocked, listening for a moment. "You should leave this place."
Seifer just raised an eyebrow.
The swordswielder performed a complex shrug. "In that case, Odin's Killer, you should junction yourself to absorb fire, or you will surely die." And the GF proceeded to otherwise ignore him, his attention returning to the old hunter shackled between them.
Still staring suspiciously at Gilgamesh, he complied. What the hell is going on…?
—ox-oxo-xo—
"…Remember the final battle against Ultimecia?"
Selphie and Zell shuddered in unison. That would never be a pleasant memory, for any of them.
"…Remember when she summoned Griever?"
If anything, Selphie shuddered worse. Yesterday's dream – oh crap, was that just yesterday? – flared through the depths of her mind like an ill-healed scar… "Hey YEAH!" The others spun to give her puzzled looks. "Nah, it's not about that… It's just, I was carrying Tonberry around the past week. And, whenever he saw Squall he went ballistic! He only shut up when Squall passed out…" And on the ship, Irvine said that his GFs had panicked just as badly when he saw the hunter… "What's with that?"
Quistis leaned forward slowly, her tone careful. "They calmed down when he passed out…?" And her hands slipped over her face, index and middle fingers tiredly massaging the corners of her eyes under the spectacles. "That confirms it. It's a proto-GF."
"…A what?"
Quistis straightened, her gaze faraway. "Something which will be a GF, but isn't just yet." She took a breath. "After that battle, after we got back to Garden… I took a look at Squall's ring. And it did hold some sort of power… I wasn't sure whether there had actually been a GF on it, a GF which Ultimecia had drawn to summon…or if it was something else. That was why I left for Esthar, to research the possibility. But—"
Seifer's raised voice, muffled from within Squall's cell, cut them off. "If anyone's killing him, it's me..."
Zell started. "…Seifer…? …Who's he talki—"
One of the SeeDs, a tall blonde, whirled around to shout at the Headmistress and the woman who had temporarily usurped her position. "It's Gilgamesh! He's in there!" All four of them shot to their feet, scrabbling for their weapons.
And then things got really weird…
The door leading through to the rest of the Garden slid open with an unceremonious thud, and six people hurried in…all with eyes glowing like mirrors…like Squall's when he did that area-scan spell.
Ellone and Fujin, their strides purposeful and sure as they made a beeline for the cell. Nida, hovering beside Fujin like a shadow before stopping to regard the room's four occupants. Zena and Zamal, following Ellone and Fujin without pause – and without a word of explanation for the Hynedamned halo shining over Zamal's head… And then Irvine.
Who lurched to a halt, staring wonderingly through mercury-shimmering windows at his love. And rushed over to smother her spluttering protests with the single best kiss of her entire life.
SeeDs were fleeing, her companions were still going for their weapons, Nida was frantically explaining something… and she couldn't care less, melting into her husband's passionate embrace…
Until a brilliant light flared through her eyelids. From the divine conflagration which had just engulfed Squall's cell.
—ox-oxo-xo—
Squall's left arm pinwheeled away from its shoulder under the force of The Lion's blow; the hunter completely ignored this, the limb rematerialising in its rightful place without thought or notice as he blocked yet another attack. A slashing riposte sent the monster back a few paces. The Lion's muscles bunched for a leaping swipe…
But it didn't come. Its head instead snapped around, seeking the source of the blazing light which suddenly surrounded them, illuminating the darkness. Squall's blade rose in preparation to seize the unexpected opportunity – only to freeze as a small hand rested on his shoulder.
The intruder was… he didn't recognise her. But she was wielding a chakra, and had not attempted to attack him. Indeed, she had only delayed his charge for long enough to summon her own assistance. The area shimmered and dulled to a ghostly pall in his eyes, as a nightmarish…thing appeared above them, performing a length attack against the enemy. It must, he realised, be some sort of GF...
She looked at him, through one striking silver eye…and for the merest fraction of a meaningless moment, her shadow took solid shape in their unshaped realm and split into two forms, one female with a glimmering set of wings, one male with a shimmering crown—
And his mind tolled, as if it were a bell struck so hard that it might break. As if it were a reservoir, filled almost to bursting in an instant – an incomprehensibly alien presence swelled in his mind's eye, pulsing a torrent of communication and foreknowledge and instruction which boiled down in his inadequate understanding to two words:
:Finish it.:
The power built within him, forcing its way to his lips as the woman's summoned GF finished its attack and dissipated, as the pall of its passage lifted and brought them back to the battlefield…
"Devour!"