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Sandbox
Season	2
Episode	7
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"TBA" is the seventh episode of Season Two and the twentieth episode of The Demon's Light series.

Synopsis

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Narrative

Port City Eight

Blackmore rested his elbows against the bow of the ferry as he took a drag of his cigarette. Staring into the sunrise through the smoke, he contemplated what he had listened to in the night they departed. Guard duty, he had told them, but their conversation was just too enticing to depart from. Possessions. Dream Eaters. What a marvel to hear. Blackmore reflected to himself on the individuals he had met. He would have liked to known Samuel Brownlee further.

"Enough of that." He snapped himself out of it. Aiola was now in sight, and with that, peace and quiet. Once the ferry docked, they would be near the city of Nirvana, a place famous due to its history with a group named Nirvanists, religious historians dedicated towards documenting the world and its creation. From there, they would have an easy journey, with the Chang Monastery, a place where Li deemed it safe to rest due to his long history with the residents, located in the mountains next to the city.

---

The large red and white accented ferry docked. Stairs were let down for passengers to exit onto the boardwalk. The first off was Zade. He let in a deep breath, smelling the salty air before walking forward. He was followed by Blackmore, with Marshall toting the group's luggage behind him. Atticus, Blossom, Chris, and Li departed and met up with the rest of the group.

"Well, we don't have Samuel anymore. Hopefully we're not screwed without him." Chris commented.

Li took in the sights of the city. Years had passed between his last visit, but little had changed. "I'm sure we'll do fine without him."

"I'm sure Mr. Li will do fine guiding us through this, Chris," Marshall said.

"Come," Li hobbled forward to the front of the group. "Much awaits us."

---

The final wooden board creaked as Marshall made it to the top of the stairs. Lagging a bit behind the rest of the group, he had reached the small plateau where the monastery stood. In the distance, the city of Nirvana seemed incredibly small. Two large ornate gates were hinged upon a wall, with gold symbols decorating it. The monastery was octagonal in shape with black shingle roofing lining the wall. The group stood on a small stone platform carved into the mountain thousands of years ago.

To the right of the gates was a rope attached to a bell. Li pulled on it. The gates opened, revealing two monks on the other side, as well as a tall, dark-skinned man. He wore a dark gi with specialized gold lettering and black shoulder pauldrons.

"Welcome back, Mr. Li," the man said. "And your guests?"

"Are Marisol and Robert in? I need to see them, Isaiah," Li rushed.

"Yes," the man, Isaiah, said. "Come in, but you will have to leave your weapons outside."

"Are you sure this place is safe, Mr. Li?" Blossom asked, reaching her hand into her brown jacket and pulling out a pair of knives and a gun. She slowly placed them on the ground in front of her.

Blackmore sighed. He opened his jacket, removing both a small switchblade and a longer hunting knife, as well as one of his sub machine guns. "Fascists."

With the group now unarmed, Isaiah led them inside. Within the tall walls, there were over one hundred monks, standing orderly and chanting. Behind them, a large temple with orange roofing and red and teal accents stood.

"Whoa," Marshall gasped.

"Nice place you've got here, Isaiah." Blackmore muttered.

"It is not mine, it is the Changs'," Isaiah explained. "However, I am the lead monk here."

"Where are the Changs right now?" Chris wondered. "We have some urgent business with them."

"They are in the meditation room, having tea. I'll take you to them," Isaiah answered.

He led them through the main courtyard and to the main temple. Sliding a shoji open, they entered and done a hallway made it to the room. Within, a Halan couple, both with long black hair, sat facing one another with a teapot and two cups between them.

"Hello, Wen. I see you brought some friends," The man, Robert, welcomed.

"Yes. Speaking of which, could you all leave the room?" Li asked, turning to face the group.

"I'll take them to the artifact room," Isaiah responded.

As they left the room, Atticus could hear a faint "we need your help" from Li.

---

The artifact room contained a great many objects of note, most displayed on pedestals with a small nameplate beneath them. An ancient golden sickle-sword covered in markings in an unfamiliar language bore the label "Great King Nzulk's Blade." Next to it was an open manuscript, its pages water-damaged and its cover dusty. Its nameplate read, "Codex Seventy-Five, 20 TP."

"I really hope we can actually stay here for more than a few days," Atticus said. "We've spent so much time going from place to place, one after another."

"I wouldn't bet on anything," replied Blackmore. He leaned against a tall podium. "If there's anything our road trip has taught me, it's to expect the worst."

"So, what do we do now?" Chris wondered.

"We just wait," Atticus replied as he pulled a large book off a shelf and began to open it.

...and the court of the gods found that Xeren had committed crimes so numerous and unforgivable that execution was deemed a necessity. Iblis, the giant who carried a scythe gifted by the Shephard of Souls, was to carry out the execution.

When the soul of Xeren was torn from his body, it split into two halves. Of the first, nothing is known. Of the second, a luminescent red sphere appeared in the skies of Euclid. It circled around the world time and time again, never changing the speed or direction of its orbit.

Atticus paused at this line. A red sphere streaking across the sky — that sounded familiar. He had seen it twice before. Once in Thales, once in Muné.

If it were to be claimed, the soul could imbue its possessor with unimaginable control over reality itself, akin to that of a Power.

"Hey, Chris, Marshall?" Atticus began. "Do you remember that light we've seen a few times? The red one?"

"Of course we remember that!" Chris exclaimed. "I mean, how could we not? It was sure quite an unusual thing to see in the sky."

"Well, remember how Steven told us that were theories it was connected to some hidden leader? This book claims that it's the soul of the god, or well, Power Xeren and that he was killed by others like him."

"What's this about a light?" Zade asked as he walked over, holding his hiking stick tightly in his hands.

As Chris explained the conversation, Zade began to wince. "Ah yes, I've heard of this light before, back in the days where I still lived in Muné...ugh."

"Why do you guys care about this?" Marshall asked, finally breaking his silence. "We're not on vacation here, this is life-or-death. Why do we keep going on about this shit? The Dream Eaters, the red comet and all this other shit doesn't matter. Can we not take this seriously?"

No one responded before Marshall stomped out of the room.

Li departed from his meeting with the Changs in high spirits. He was almost to the artifact room when he spotted Marshall walking away from the room.

"What happened?" he asked. Marshall only shot a glare in his direction.

Concerned, the man entered the room and saw the group. As he approached, Li noticed something strange. From this angle, Atticus bore a striking resemblance to Gabriel. Atticus was younger, of course, but his face was eerily close and his eyes were the exact same light green.

"Mr. Li?" Blossom spoke up after noticing Li standing in the doorway. "What did they say?"

Li snapped out of his stupor and walked over to the group. "They said we can stay. We'll be going to our rooms soon."

Search Party

The search party had been vigilant, but for the twenty days that had passed, their search had gone cold. They elected to learn more about Charles, before Florence contacted all of them with what they had all been waiting for, a new lead.

The private investigator had them meet in Silivia, in a notably Nuyövian area. As Aaron's car arrived, with Jordan beside him and Charles in the back, Florence tipped his hat.

"Evening. Any word on when the others will get here?"

"Should be any minute now," replied Aaron, and one by one the group arrived.

Stepping out of her car, Lisa slammed the door shut and stepped over to Aaron's. "What have we been called here for? What lead does he have?"

Aaron looked over to Florence for an explanation. "Ladies and gents, welcome to Deep Cover." He feigned a smile. "It's a club. Gang hideout." Florence gestured across the street towards a white building with numerous neon signs in various languages. "This is where I was told to meet my contact. He said it makes him feel safer."

Savannah rolled her eyes. "Can't say I share his taste. Who even is this guy, anyway?"

Florence smiled again. "He's our star witness. Dyson Pointer, Alchemilia chairman, and he's likely to know more than anyone where our guys could be."

"How did he witness it?" Charles asked.

"I'm sure he'll explain it himself. Let's go." The detective crossed the street, leading the others to the front door of Deep Cover. As he opened it, various sights and sounds bombarded the search party's senses. Psychedelic music, colorful lights, and what sounded like hundreds of conversations at once.

Jordan glanced at many people around the establishment. "Hmm, do you see him? What does he look like?"

"No. But he has white hair. Mustache. That's, uh, all I've got." Florence mumbled. "Look out for him." Many of the gangsters had their eyes on the party, and one wolf-whistled at the group.

"Quite the social circle this guy's got, huh?" Aaron scowled.

Dexter turned away from a ghastly sight: an unconscious man at a table with a needle sticking out of his shoulder. His arms were covered in tattoos depicting rats and snakes.

"Yeah," Dexter muttered. "We're in good company here."

"Then let's keep moving," Lisa said, pushing ahead into the crowd. "I doubt he's among this filth."

Florence opened his mouth to speak, before a young man sitting at a booth snapped his fingers at the group.

His face was intensely familiar, if one would disregard the numerous symmetrical tattoos across it, and he was wearing a bright orange suit with multiple gold necklaces.

"You're the ones Mr. Pointer was meeting with, right? You're late." He squinted his amber eyes at them. "You don't look like much. I'd advise you don't try anything. He's in the backroom." He said, gesturing to a door behind him.

Again Florence tried to speak before being cut off. "Where you're going, you'll need these." The boy scribbled something onto two napkins in front of them, and held one in each of his hands, towards Lisa and Savannah.

Savannah saw a phone number written on the napkin. She looked to the boy, blinked twice, and said nothing. Lisa gave a disgusted look, crumpled her napkin and tossed it onto the floor.

The young man winked at Lisa, smiling arrogantly. "Go on in."

Florence obliged, walking past the boy and through the doorway behind him. The others followed, met with the sight of a well-dressed gentleman with a thick mustache and a bottle of wine next to him.

"So.. are you Dyson?" Jordan asked, standing further back than the others.

The man grimaced. "We're not on a first name basis. I would prefer Mr. Pointer." Dyson poured wine into his glass. "Your friend, Investigator Carnation, has paid me a generous sum of gil to give you this information, but it is not to be taken lightly. Can I trust you?"

"You will be able to trust us," Charles replied. "I am Wellington Robotics Android #1, or Charles, if you will."

"Per Charles. Can you tell us what you know?" Savannah asked.

"As I'm sure Investigator Carnation has explained to you," Dyson continued as Florence shot a nervous glance to the others, "It would be most regrettable were you not to find the Port City Eight. Fortunately for the both of us, I have the location of the Hummingbird that I am certain they escaped on."

Florence spoke, "Yeah, uh, Mr. Pointer here has a theory on what happened to them, don't you?"

"They fled to Muné, of course. One of the only places that they could be sure they wouldn't be found. Any rational person would head to Aiola, to safety, but the Hummingbird seems to have crash-landed outside of a town called Headre." Dyson paused, taking a swig of wine. "I don't expect you to head straight to Muné. There's a coastal city in Aiola, Nirvana, that has a ferry known to be the safest travel there. From that point, with proper transportation, you should be able to make it to Headre in a week or so."

"Not to be rude, but how do you know this?" Savannah asked. "I can't imagine anyone in their right mind would flee to Muné, of all places."

Dyson glared. "Because they know that we'd look everywhere else."

Epilogue

Rather than saying his name when pressed on it, the stranger that had arrived in the Muné village of Mcyne said he was a combination of three men. Most wrote him off as another odd foreigner because of this cryptic answer.

Shortly after the stranger arrived and parked their chicaro wagon, they started asking for a scholar of "oneiros-class reality manipulation." The term was unknown to all but the village scientist Harold, who had made the topic his life's study. After some talk, both men decided to go to the Mcyne library for further inquiry. They now sat across from each other on wooden chairs.

"What do you know?" Harold asked after some conversation. "I have doubts you even understand what they are. You're a nobody."

"I know who they are." The stranger smirked. "Because I've spoken with them."

Harold kept their focus on the man as they started to speak again.

"The first is above perception. They shift, morph, change their form in a way the eye cannot detect. They are a liar that charms. Everything I've found points to them being the leader."

The first man was one of ambition. He had lived a mundane life until he was given an opportunity, a chance to see something greater. They wanted to walk in the shadow of historical greats. Even after taking the opportunity, though, he saw no results. This man did not get the spotlight or praise he wanted, and this frustrated him.

"The second robs free will. Whether or not they choose to make you a copy of themselves, they make you a vessel for their misdeed. That is what happened to me, and it was because of them that I was able to see the first."

The second man craved the unknown. He considered his work something more than it was, and this led to his end. While his passion made him to reach his goal, he ventured too far. Instead of unearthing new worlds, this man was left to rot in a room in which the lights were shut.

"I know what I'm talking about, Harold. I want to tell you about a third, even a fourth, but I can't. I've spoken with countless men, I’ve read so many things since I started my venture on this continent, but this is all I know. What I can tell you, though—"

The third man lacked a face after time had taken its toil. What this man did have, however, was experience. This man knew his weaknesses and would not let his hubris get to him. Like the others, this man had a goal — but he intended to follow through with it.

"There's no need to go further, son," Harold paused and sighed. "You don't have to repeat what the both of us already know. Perhaps I misjudged you. But, again — you intend to kill the Dream Eaters?"

"Well, intended," the man dully responded. "You were right in saying I'm a nobody. I wanted to do something, but look at me. You think I can cross dimensions? Reach Midgarde? No, no — I've entrusted that to someone else. A person that was also chosen by them, someone that I know will act."