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As nightfall drew close and the light dimmed, so did the forest, especially in these thicker areas where it is difficult for the sunlight to penetrate. The trees in these older, deeper parts of the forest are huge and ancient. The landscape is harsh for any land travelers with no clear trailing paths, as many that live around the Kahadlok fears it and do not dare to enter.

However if the travelers would look close enough and has decent tracking skills, they would eventually find the path that Zeke had took. Fresh broken branches, flatten shrubberies, a few footprints in the mud here and there. Follow along and they would reach the fated fallen tree with the arrow still stuck in it, and traces of blood around. The further they go, they would find more and more things that are off. Such as tons more broken branches and loose fresh leaves littered the forest floor, like someone had an extensive fight up above. Purple liquid stains on some rocks, and the odd pile of clay rubble beneath a tree.

The further they go, the darker the forest would be, it was like the sun had completely set in just a few minutes and the night is here. Only there weren't stars in the sky, the darkness above was suffocatingly close and the forest floor was crawling with a thin layer of black mist that is chillingly cold to the touch. The air was completely still and the complete silence was deafening as they began descending down a gentle slope. There wasn't any rustling in the trees, there wasn't a single living thing around at all, not even the trees. Up ahead, the trees seem to open to a reveal a small open cliff.

As they approached, they would find that they are at the tip of a cliff with a sharp drop. Disturbingly, around the cliff they could only see darkness. There are no distant mountains, not even a hint of a silhouette. The cliff fades into black about a hundred feet below them, and no one would be able to see the bottom.

At the edge of the cliff looms a floating eyeball of a golden yellow color. It stood above a pillar of black flames and they seem to spread out in black smoky tentacles, like roots from a large ancient tree. Right underneath the floating eye is an unconscious man, seemingly tortured by never ending nightmares as very soft moans and groans were heard once in a while. His hands grew tense and would sometimes shudder as if he was terrified. The many shadowy tendrils wrapped around the man, like it was claiming some sort of prize. The man looked like he is in very very poor condition, most would've thought he was dead if not for the very faint signs of life. His limbs were skinny like bones, and through his tattered shirt they could almost make out the shape of his ribcage. He was not the man he used to be. They could also see something else... the man had a head of white hair! Is this... is this really Kyou??!

Be careful when you look at the floating eye ball though. Stare long and deep enough, and it will let you see the worse fears of your life.

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((Anya and Zeke --> Iorek and Cesc))

When the creature that had attacked her revealed himself to her, Anastacia had a moment of perplexment. The beast - for that was what he was in her eyes at this very moment - looked familiar and the Virus Frei felt as if she knew him from someplace or sometime before. This moment didn't last however, as before she knew it she was being tossed aside like trash. A startled cry left her lips as she once more spun head over ribbon before correcting herself in midair as before. That first sound died as quickly as it came and was just as quickly replaced by another scream of fury as her newest attacker turned tail and ran.

Without missing a beat, Anastacia pursued. The hunter she had been chasing was now long forgotten and Anastacia was oblivious to his missing presence in this glade. She had a new quarry now, and damned if this one would get away from her!

Find him. Hunt him down. Make him pay.

On his knees with his forehead pressed against the jungle floor with his eyes pinched shut, Zeke would have missed Iorek if not for the Gargoyle's less than stellar landing into his midst. The crashing of all types of flora under the crashing Raevan's drew the veterinarian's gaze skyward in time to watch the fallen meteor crash land in the brush off to Zeke's left. He followed the descent and Zeke could only gape at what he saw, his mind blank and buzzing.

It couldn't be...

Then the meteor began to move. It was a slow, haggard movement but there were wings, massive purple-streaked arms, and Zeke had seen enough of the back of Iorek's head to know that the sweaty, leaf and mud-caked hair belonged to the Stone Frei. Zeke could see all this but he didn't immediately move even as his teammate struggled. His mind was a blank slate and he was trying to piece together what had once been written upon it.

Zeke was acutely aware of his heart hammering a mile a minute in his chest and a tinny flatline of a sound in his ears. It was Iorek, it was clearly Iorek. But there was blood on the trees and a trap and there had been roars of pain from the Gargoyle. He had been so sure Iorek had...

A scream ripped the still air in twain, one that sounded like victory and rage hitting a crescendo. Zeke put a crick in his neck from turning his head so fast, but caught sight of Anastacia leaping from a tree down toward their fallen companion. She was on the Gargoyle in the blink of an eye; wings raking against his stone skin, hands tearing at his hair, and a very arachnid-sounding hiss emanating from deep withing her partial chest.

Zeke finally moved.

His legs felt like lead when he got up, but he did get up and he put all his strength into clearing the distance between himself and the two Raevans. Anastacia had not seen him - too preoccupied with harming Iorek to notice her Guardian's approach - and the vet used that to his advantage.

"ANYA STOP!" He grabbed the Frei from behind and ripped her from her prey. Immediately she began to struggle in his arms, her wings flailing uselessly at the air as he pinned their bases to their bearer's skin. That arachnid sound grew louder and Zeke felt his Raevan's nails rip at his forearms as she struggled to and fro in his hold. He bit back the pain and used a new surge of adrenaline to turn and throw Anya as far as he could. She went spinning and Zeke placed himself between her and Iorek, arms stretched wide.

"...Oh my god..."

The words came out without thought but were excusable when one saw Anastacia the way Zeke saw her now. She righted herself then turned to face him and she was almost unrecognizable. Gone was the stoic beauty and chilly aloofness his Anya carried like a banner. The Black Widow that floated before him harkened to her soul more than he had ever seen before. Wings and crown were spread wide and readied for attack, her face was a distorted look of pure rage, and her eyes - the pupils of her lavender pair were so dilated they matched the set of four on her brow perfectly.

In that moment, after everything they had come through and everything they had experienced, it was she who now scared Zeke the most. He took a step back - the step of a prey creature and the step of a scared man - still shielding Iorek. They had to go. They had to get away. But he couldn't just leave her here.

As she looked at the man now standing between her and the familiar-yet-not coward of a beast, Anastacia felt the same thing she had when Iorek had revealed himself to her. This one she knew somehow, somewhere, someplace far away. But that didn't matter. He had come between her and her quarry and had done what Iorek had just done - thrown her away.

He was now a target.

She could handle two of them with ease.

This one was particularly fleshy, as the blood on her silk spewing fingers and the blood trickling down his forearms proved.

Just tie them down. Make sure they can't move. Then she could do with them as she pleased.

She saw the second target - a bloody creature; shirtless and caked with sweat, mud, and jungle refuse - take a step back from her. That smile that had vanished in her pursuit of the stony creature returned. She looked half mad now and the look of fright and despair on the human's face grew deeper into the lines and shadows of his face. She found she liked that.

He said something - a name. It sounded like hers and it sounded like pleading but the crackling in her ears muffled it to the point where she found she didn't care. He had gotten in the way and now he was prey. And she had been sitting here staring at him for far too long! She made her move, but then green light blasted through the darkness and blinded her.

"Iorek, run. IOREK, RUN!" The scream of pain Anastacia made made the vet's heart ache, but he knew they couldn't linger and wait to see what would happen even as she covered her eyes and doubled over, hissing and spitting. She was not his Anya right now, that was plain as the look on her face, and the green light beckoned.

Zeke turned on his heel and grabbed a hold of the Gargoyle and half dragged, half lifted him across the jungle floor. They only had a few precious moments and a head start was imperative. As he pulled Iorek along, his muscles screamed and begged for rest but Zeke ignored them as he had before. They had to get there. Cesc needed them; Dr. Kyou needed them!

But despite the danger they left behind in the form of his daughter, Zeke didn't have it in him to just leave her there; alone, angry, in pain, and in the returning darkness. Every other step he looked over his shoulder and with each look he called for her.

"THIS WAY!"

"OVER HERE!"

"ANYA!"

Over and over he said those things and more, listening to the initial screams of anger from her and the following sounds of her pursuit in the canopy above.

We just have to get there, he told himself, once we do, everything will be okay.

Soon enough the trees began to thin and shortly thereafter Iorek and Zeke broke clear of the treeline. Zeke had the first note of Cesc's nickname on his lips as soon as he saw the shadowy form of the Stag from several yards on and as he and Reks exited the forest, the last part of the Dawn Frei's name left him. It was not on the roar he had been expecting however, but soured and faded as Zeke saw the Eldritch Horror that had plagued them and waited for them since they first entered the jungle.

"Holy s**t." Iorek sagged off his shoulder, Zeke's grip suddenly lax. The great eye in the darkness, which emanated from this thing like an aura. The source of all their fears and self doubt. The cause of all of this.

Zeke reached for the knife and found it missing. It didn't matter, not when he was suddenly eye level with the ground, the wind knocked out of him once again, and feeling the weight of his Frei on his back.

The human had gone down and with him went Anastacia, who steadied her fall with the hydraulics of her over sized wings. Zeke was dazed, but lucid or not it didn't matter to her. She got him and now that she had him, he was hers to finish off for interfering and attacking her.

Warm, sticky gobs of silk pooled under her fingernails and she pressed them to her Guardian's skin. Once they held, Anastacia pulled her hands back and with them made strands of silk. She was going to wrap him up first. Bite him and run him through second once she had attacker number two in such a bind as well.

Find him. I did.

Hunt him down. I have.

Make him pay. I will.

Beneath her Zeke struggled, coming back to his senses and coughing out for help. His left hand grabbed one of her pinions and squeezed hard, but she had another, and damned if she wasn't going to make him stop. She raised her right wing and her torso as well, head pulling back with the motion to pinpoint the place she was going to run him through with. Her eyes went up for the barest of moments and it was then that she saw what Zeke had been staring at and it captured her attention just as it had his.

The hunter who had lead her on a wild goose chase had been forgotten. She had been oblivious to his lack of presence when Iorek had bowled her over and off that tree. Here and now though it hung in the air like a foul odor in a closed room and she was pulled back to her original motives for breaking off from the group. This was the hunter. This was her attacker, her original one. The one who had pierced her skin with an arrow and put the crackling sound in her ears. The one who had led her on that godawful chase through the jungle and left traps and tricks for her to find and rip from every tree.

"You son of a b***h."

She ripped Zeke's hand from her captured wing with the barest of glances then rose from the raver's back. He could wait. Iorek could wait. The brown thing hanging off to the side could wait. In a time like this, Anastacia would do things in order, thank you very much.

((Cesc --> Anya, Reks, Zeke, Eiry))

He'd been there too long.

Green splintered through the sky and hovered in the air and then was gone into darkness, the black melting back together. Rhedefre knew it was a signal, a call, not a transport. He knew he would have to wait. Standing there by the edge, so close to the epicenter of their troubles, he knew he would have to stand and wait for reserves. He could not long stare at it without it trying to get access to his mind, so he lowered the gold of his eyes and tried to keep the rhythm of his breathing steady. He reloaded the flare gun with shaking hands. Just in case. Just in case.

The silence was overpowering. The dark was making its way under his eyes. Had he ever been so tired? So outmatched?

He could fire the flare at it. At its unblinking pupil. He could break himself, make himself light, and invade it the same way it was trying to invade him. He could try.

Don't go near it, Jeremy'd warned.

He was good. He heeded warnings.

Rhedefre floated at the edge of the cliff and waited. What of the hunter? Would the hunter come before the cavalry? He had nowhere else to run, nothing else to cloak himself in. He did not know the fate of his team. Or any other team. What if no one came?

He looked down at the flare gun. He could shoot.

A snapping of trees and branches, a distant-but-close-coming shout, woke him from the reverie. Rhedefre turned slightly, slowly, toward the sound. The hunter? He braced himself, his jaw strong, his shoulders square.

It was alright, if it was. He'd fired the flare. He'd done his part. No more running. No more godforsaken running...

Zeke burst through the clearing, Iorek's broken and bloody form hanging limply from his side, Anya hot and furious on their trail. Rhedefre watched it all without comprehension, unmoving as Zeke went down and Anya fell upon him, her fury unabated from before. There was a faint pinprick of relief deep in Cesc's chest, a quiet voice in his head that assuaged his broken heart: they're still alive.

Shadows of what they were supposed to be, but still alive. For now, they were all alive.

Shouldn't there have been more? More relief, more heartbreak at seeing his friends so? He was so tired. The emotions were coming like a slow-swelling wave, but he could not rise to meet them, not yet. They were filling him so slowly, like they had to call on reserves. He was so tired, and he'd bled the rest of them out.

It wasn't until Anya made a move toward the eye that Cesc gathered himself.

"Don't!" he heard himself bark, his voice dark and hoarse with pain and exhaustion. His tired wings flared. He'd already failed her once. "Anya! You will not win!"

Raging beast she'd become! Had she caused the blood on Iorek's arms, or had that been the hunter? Or Zeke, Zeke was bleeding -- how could she have done such things without regaining her mind at what she'd done? It seemed impossible. Cesc could help her, he knew. His calm aura could take away some of the confusion and rage in her brain, return her serenity to her. He could help her, lord, he could, if only he had the strength to, if only he felt that calmness he was born to, but it was not the first emotion returning, it was not among the first ---

"Here!"

A voice startled the stag as he struggled with his dwindling power, the sound stiffening his shoulders and tightening his grip on the arrow in his right hand. The hunter! He took in a quick and ragged breath and turned, the living gold of his eyes split open wide on his ruined handsome face, the mud and blood streaking across it making him look more animal than Raevan. Not now -- not until he helped her -- not now!

Cesc, I'm here!"

The whirlwind expression in the stag's eyes faded instantly as he recognized Eiry, although they remained wide at the sight of the worry and the dried blood across the wisp's visage. The air went out of Cesc's lungs as he looked behind Eiry to Ronan and Rivener, both worse for wear. What had he done?! Who had he called for help? They all needed to leave -- they all needed help -- and Eiry, Eiry flew to him with pain in his heart and fear and loss, lifting the still-rising emotions from Cesc's heart to his throat.

Not now, not now, not now.

"Don't go near it!" the stag cautioned again, his voice thick and rough, unaware of the absolute wreck his own appearance presented to the newcomers.

((Iorek - - > Anya, Zeke, Cesc ))

The injured raevan had no clue how far he had gotten before he was tackled to the ground by a screeching harpy. It just wasn't his day. Under attack, the beast wailed and fought miserably against her. And yet every move he made was slow and pointless. There was very little power left in him. His once mighty fists packed only a little punch.

Why had he used it up? Why did he put himself in this position? Why had he been so FOOLISH?

The raevan growled and did what he could to shake her off of him. He truly wanted to channel the speed and strength of a wild bucking bronco but all he got was that of a toy rocking horse. At this point he was losing and fast.

The jungle mud was swallowing him up more and more as she pounded on his back. He didn't drown in the waterfall but he certainly could in all this mud! It was absolutely terrifying to be this weak. All of his attempts to remove the thrashing creature from his back did nothing. The shrilling witch could actually win.

The more mud he swallowed and the deeper his cracked skin became Iorek could only think about how doomed he was. He had been so close! So so close to ending all of this. But now the glow of the flare was out of his reach. He'd never see his family or his friends again. Without his strength what could he do?

But then the weight was off of him and the raevan found it in himself to scuttle as fast as he could away. When the wheezing Reks was a few good feet away to catch his breath he looked back to see who had saved him. Standing up against the beast was a man with funny looking hair. He looked familiar.

Then the rest was all a blur.

One moment he was crawling towards the green light and the next he was being flown in it's direction. It was such a bumpy and jarring ride. Whoever had scooped him up was a terrible flyer. Funny enough, the gargoyle found it in him to cast as stern of a glance at the pilot as if to say, 'You really need to work on this.' It was then that he recognized who it was.

"Zeke..." The raevan muttered as he looked over the man. He too looked like a wreck. "How did you...? What...?" He cast a glance over his shoulder and listened to the sounds of the creature they had left behind. The screech was very similar to a purple raevan he knew.

"Wasn't that..." Anya! The purple raevan had gone mad and attacked them!

They had to get away. He was in no shape to go against her. Hoping it would do them some good, Iorek fought the pain in his wings in order to flap them. Maybe, just maybe, that would somehow propel them ahead. They had to get to better place. If a fight was necessary to calm the spider down then they needed somewhere that didn't have any trees for Anya to climb up and jump from. What they needed was an open space, maybe even a glen. They just needed some kind of advantage over her rage. He knew from experience that anger was a wonderful tool to use but now, in this position, he knew it was a double sword. Because the more that rage was used, the more tired the user became.

Just when he thought they'd fall into her web the jungle broke away to a bone-chilling sight. It wasn't at all what Iorek wanted to find. A massive being lingered in an endless darkness before them. There was no battle plan he could think up to go against whatever THAT was. Panic and fear only grew as he saw Cesc, his friend and comrade, floating before the monster. But before he could cry out to his brethren his world was jostled and down to the ground he fell.

Zeke quickly joined him with an angry Anya on his back.

"Anya! Stop!" The gargoyle screamed as he reached out to try and bat her away from his savior.

Sadly, his pushing and shoving was getting him no where. She easily pushed him away and continued to build a web around her caretaker. Iorek could only ask himself how pitiful had he become? He couldn't even fight against her!

But then she too stopped and stared at their new foe. This new villain which had been the source of their pain and sorrow for days. She must of realized that this was the one they had to fight, not each other. That or she was still on rage-mode and wanted to fight the biggest thing here which he was absolutely fine with. As soon as she got off Zeke, Reks moved to his side and pulled him close, ready to act as a shield in case she got back.

"W-We should try and move closer to Cesc." Iorek muttered as he did his best to cover the human as they both got up. "S-Safety in numbers right? I-I'm sure Anya will be good doing what she's um...doing. Now was not the time to race ahead like he'd done before. Now they needed to think and come up with a plan as fast as possible. Luckily it looked like other teams were coming to the source of their torment in droves. If a battle was to start together they might just win. Even battered and bruised, Iorek knew the people of Lab 305 had the power in them to triumph over their biggest foe and save the Doctor.

((Pasha -> Cruz, Cesc))

Melisande advanced slowly, with Cruz still clinging to her bare arm. She'd left her bolero back at the waterfall, rather than risking exposure to the hemlock, and wore only her two tattered tanks as protection from the jungle. She was beginning to regret it.

The same sense of unease that Trox felt filled her, crawling along her skin like a thousand tiny ants. She was still shaky from the venom, and the trembling glow from her flashlight barely illuminated the ground before them. The Muse tried to keep her determined expression, not wanting add to the Frei's worry. Her excitement at seeing the green flare had long since dimmed to dread. This was nothing like the waterfall, or their cliff top camp. The darkness gathered too swiftly, suffocating even the shattered forest. Terrible noises pierced the gloom, causing Melisande to pull Cruz closer despite her need to be brave. If the Doctor was here...

The Sigel flinched as Trox drew his gun. She started to look towards whatever had startled him, and averted her eyes with a little cry. A glimpse of something dark and tangled, white hair and emaciated limbs...

Pasha squeezed her eyes shut as though it were a nightmare, and opened them very slowly. They weren't alone. She could see the faint glow of runes, but nothing looked familiar anymore. Were they...Raevans?!

She kept her eyes averted from the terrible vision that loomed out of the darkness, not wanting to admit what she'd seen was real. Instead, she focused on one of the ragged forms before her. It looked like it was in terrible shape...she'd never seen a Frei so tattered, filthy and bloodied. She felt a surge of guilt that she hadn't ever learned the names of all of her new brethren, but she surely would have remembered one with such wild golden eyes...

Golden...eyes? Slowly, as though afraid what she might see, Melisande let her gaze rise to the crown of the Raevan, and something cold gripped her as she saw exactly what she'd feared. Antlers.

The Muse hadn't even had time to see who else was gathered. It was a haunting collection of tattered wings and flashing limbs and bloodied faces at the edges of her vision. She didn't take time to look...instead, slipped free of Cruz, launched herself forward, and threw her arms around Cesc's neck.

"You're okay." Pasha's voice was muffled against the dirty, bloodied ear. The Muse didn't know which one of them she was trying to reassure, but she squeezed tighter, and pressed her cheek against the muddied Stag. "You're okay!"

It was strange. The hunter, the black cat, whatever that was haunting the teams earlier was completely vacant in the immediate vicinity of the floating eye. The second hunter that was giving chase to the stag didn't catch up. In fact, it seemed like he had disappeared altogether. It was like... this was a neutral zone for all parties involve.

Although of course, everything isn't as simple or easy as it seemed.

As Rhedefre was averting his gaze from the eye all this time, he was unaware of the effect on the people that actually look at it.

Consumed by anger, Anastacia's many eyes were focused on the source of their fear and suffering. As she stare at the eye however, it stared back. It didn't take long. A minute later, she would feel a familiar sting on her arm, where the hot sauce hit her the other night. However, this time it was different...

The orange stain seemed to had taken a life of it's own as it spreads across her skin. And it wasn't only just her arm, red poured from the wound on her shoulder, where the head of the arrow is still buried, from her hand, from her fingertips, even her face! It was taking over, and it burned, more intense than the pain she experienced before. To her horror, she would even see some of the skin bubbling up, like she was being burnt alive.

Oddly enough, only the arachnid was able to see her own horrors. In everyone else's eyes, they see her as she is, nothing more.

((Cesc --> Eiry, Rivener, Ronan, Melisande))

Cesc could hear the blood pumping in his temples, weaker on the one side where the clot hadn't fully knitted his skin together, his eyes wild as he looked at Eiry, and at Riv and Ronan behind him. There was a groan in his head, constant and getting louder. He put a shaking hand on Eiry's shoulder and the groan intensified within; he patted the other on the head with uncoordinated movements, checking him for a wound. The stag couldn't speak yet, worried the groan would work out of his head and through his lips, but the concern was clear in his eyes.

"Not hurt?" he said at last, but his voice was little more than a whisper. How could he even say such a thing? He knew it wasn't true. He was hurt, Eiry was. Somewhere under the surface. Under the bloody hair. Somewhere deep. It made Cesc dizzy to think it, to feel it, to know it existed. It was bringing blackness to his eyes, spots to the corners of his vision. Something had been gashed open, something was bleeding. What had happened to him? To Riv, or Ronan, who looked so worse for wear behind him? "Not hurt, are you -- tell me -- tell me now."

"Don't -- don't go near it -- don't look at it ---" Cesc managed, louder now, aimed at Rivener, his eyes so cold and thin that Rhedefre knew what he meant to do. And he would have taken a step forward, put himself between the eyeball and Rivener, if not for the sudden flash of pale gold and angel's wings that took his attention completely away.

No.

It was Cesc's first thought as the muse threw her arms around his neck. She was whole! She was beautiful and whole and mostly unharmed, the masterpiece, she was well and strong enough to see him and know him. An ocean of relief flooded him, filled his eyes so they were glossy and wet. He wanted to thank something, thank someone, thank her for keeping herself safer than he had managed with Iorek and Zeke and Anya. The stag let the arrow in his hand drop as he allowed himself to put one arm around her, against her back.

How could she come to him so easily, put her arms around him without care, and soothe him with her singular voice as she did? He was vile outside and broken inside. He'd been trampled on. Invaded by darkness and failure. He was getting it on her. His hand left a print on her shirt where he held her. Darkened her curls where he touched them. He wanted to let go. Desperately, he wanted not to harm her, dirty her, in any way.

But he couldn't let go, not yet. Not when she was assuring him that he was fine. That he was alright. In a voice he couldn't, wouldn't, didn't know how to argue with. He needed her, her spark and her light and her energy to keep him from drowning in the dark and pain that was only intensifying everywhere around him. More figures were coming, bringing their hurt and surprise.

"Melisande," Cesc said, his voice quiet, loud enough only to reach her ears. "You shouldn't -- you --" His ragged voice pinched as his eyes welled over, wetting the mud on his cheeks. "God and light and dawn and fortune, bless you and your team and your luck and whatever kept you safe in this -- you."

((Zeke --> Iorek and Cruz
Anya --> The Eye --> Everyone))

When her weight left his back, Jeremy's words of caution rang in Zeke's ears. When her ribbon brushed over the loose, tangled mess that was his hair, he felt as if his heart had been put into a vice. When he tried to reach for her and found his body wouldn't respond to his brain's command, everything hit home at once.

Oh god no. Please no. Not now, not now! He knew what he had done the moment he finally felt the dead weight of his limbs, the steady burn of his muscles, and the overly present stabbing pain of his injuries. In order to get here Zeke had pushed past his limits in a spectacular burst of fear wrought adrenaline. Now that he was, face down in the mud and god knows what else, that gift had waned and left him numb and weaker than a newborn kitten.

"Anya...Anya stop!" His voice was hoarse and to his ears - partially deafened by the rapid, constant beat of his heart - his words sounded no more than a mewl. She was moving farther away from him still and closer to that thing. "Anya please! Please!"

Zeke closed his eyes and finally closed his fingers over damp, darkened air. Iorek was forgotten, Cesc was forgotten, the sounds of those coming onto the scene were not registered. Why did it have to be now? Why had his body chosen to fail him here, when his team would need him the most? He had felt weak and like a failure a lifetime ago by that crushed tree splattered with his Gargoyle teammate's blood but that had been naught but a taste of the real deal. He was trying - gods was he trying to get up and stop her! - but nothing was responding. He was numb, and what parts weren't continued to burn and promised pain if he did manage to do anything.

I need to stop her. I need to stop her!

He called for her again, but this time his hoarse voice went high and broke. The sound trembled and was lost over the din of those who went to Cesc or stared at the sight that his Frei was sizing up. His neck couldn't support his head any longer and Zeke's brow met mud once again this night. He moaned and his eyes stung as he fought back tears of frustration; trying in vain to channel that energy into some part of him that would be of some use. It didn't work. His body didn't want to move and every part of him just wanted to lie there and rest until this was all over.

The worn down part of his brain told him he could use that rest and could afford it. There were others here now, not just his teammates and more were coming thanks to Cesc's flare. Even in the darkness the Black Widow and her fury could not be missed unless they were as blind as Ethiriel. Those same people would be able to see him laying here and see how run down and ragged he was. Someone else would stop her - could stop her - and if he tried to push himself anymore he'd do more damage to himself than anything else had done by far.

Zeke being Zeke however, he fought that part of himself. He told himself that no good would come if he fell asleep, but with every attempt to do more than just wiggle his toes the worn down voice grew stronger. The ground was wet and cold but compared to the heat of the jungle it was soothing against his sticky, overheated skin. It felt like a balm and he started to slip into it, but then he was pulled away from the earth and into a hard, dampened embrace. Iorek said something, but the only word Zeke honed in on was the Virus Frei's name. Zeke opened his eyes. The world reeled and was blurry, but he snapped out of the fog as alarm settled in.

"We gotta stop her! She's gonna get hurt! Iorek please!!!" He struggled weakly in the Gargoyle's grip, looking wildly around for his Frei in a world that was watery, blurred, and uncomfortably dark. The panic in his voice was clear although his words were choked, sputtered, and forced out. "Where is she?! Take me to her! I can stop her, I have to!"

"YOREK!" A familiar voice from behind, one Zeke hadn't heard in awhile. He started to turn, confused, but a sudden scream ripped his attention back toward the eye. He knew that sound better than anyone by this point and the sound of his Frei in pain struck fear into his heart like a dagger.

"ANASTACIA!"

It was a staring contest, six on one. Five of seven could not blink, and although her lavender pair had to every now and again, Anastacia did not break her line of sight with the great floating eye. Those arriving, those lingering, those she had followed and attacked - none of them mattered. They would if they tried to interfere, but until they attempted, it was just her and this thing. In the midst of her anger, she was confident. Someone she knew somehow once mentioned things called weak points. If a weak point was hit, you could do the greatest amount of damage to your enemy and take them down quick and easy. At the time she didn't understand such things, found them stupid on the part of the thing that bore them, but now it was different. Now, facing a creature with one massive, yellow weak point, she felt a rush of satisfaction. One strike, two strikes, maybe a third just for herself and she would have her revenge.

Anastacia smiled that terrible smile. She had to wonder if the eye would scream or if it would just make a satisfyingly squishy sound with each thrust she made.

It'll pop like a balloon. She knew she would laugh if that were true. Anya flexed her wings slowly, relishing that hydraulic pressure each squeeze had. What was she waiting for anyway? It wasn't an audience, and this thing was the hunter, that she knew. She could take the hunter, and with no body? He couldn't run anywhere this time. Ready and willing, the spider queen spread her wings wide and took off, eyes never leaving her prey.

It didn't take more than a minute from her takeoff for the eye's magic to take hold. Heat began to work its way up her arm and hot on its trail was the burn. Anastacia stopped dead in her tracks, her left hand gripping her forearm where the hunter's staining liquid had met its mark at the burned campsite. It hurt worse than when it happened. She squeezed tighter, but it did nothing, especially as the orange marking started to spread like a snake up her shoulder as well as down to her fingertips. That wasn't all, either. When the burning snake reached her shoulder, Anya felt a wet sensation, like water being poured over her chest rather than a thin trickle or droplets like rain. The Widow turned her head and found the broken arrow shaft still sticking out of her only now the skin around it was bleeding that stinging red liquid.

Her anger vanished at the sight of it and was replaced with horror. Her hand erupted in red ooze and the living mark started up her neck, burning and making her bleed that red pain as it went. Soon it was spilling down her face but Anastacia didn't let it get that far before she started shrieking in pain. Her crown and her wings spasmed and she thrashed in the air as though she had been electrocuted and was continuing to be so over and over again.

"MAKE IT STOP! MAKE! IT! STOOOOP!"

The ground splattered underneath her as the Virus threw herself into the mud and started rolling in it. She didn't feel the coolness her Guardian had; instead it only seemed to mix into her wounds and the stuff that flowed from them, making it all the worse. Her rune flickered and its cloud pulsed as she bowed her partial back, looking skyward and screaming again. The sound bounced off all the trees and made the air tremble. The hissing had started in her wounds and amidst her throes she saw what it was doing to her arms and now felt it moving on up to her face. She began to claw at her face. Anastacia couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, and all she could do was scream.