Light of Ichor 10

“Open your heart
I am calling you
Right from the very start
Your wounded heart was calling too

Open your arms
You will find the answer
When you answer to the call”

The Call __ Celtic Woman



Shadow woke early. He stared out the dark window with its yellow curtains, waiting impatiently for the sun to rise. He stretched and warmed up his body, too eager to head back to Angel Island to see Knuckles. Today was the day he could get some firsthand answers about the enigmatic island, and he couldn’t deny that he was very excited. Impatient, even. So impatient that once Maria was up, he told her of his intentions and left even before she did, called to the island in all its mysteries.

Assuming where Knuckles would be, Shadow teleported straight to the chamber of the Master Emerald. There wasn’t a trace of the echidna, but the Master Emerald had been restored more, nearly halfway finished. Leaving the belly of the Hidden Palace, Shadow walked outside and above ground, searching for him.

He found Knuckles that morning crouched at the waterside, his hands full of water that he splashed over his face. His hands—his KNUCKLES?

Shadow blinked at the sight of real, actual spikes growing from the backs of Knuckles’ naked hands. “Knuckles?” he asked, unable to quite keep the shock out of his voice.

His dreads twitched, and he turned his head to him, brows shooting up. “Shadow,” he said in surprise, wiping the dripping water from his face with the back of his forearm. “I didn’t expect you so soon. I haven’t even done my katas yet!”

Shadow frowned as Knuckles pulled his gloves back on, asking, “Should I come back later?”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, stepping back down to the mouth of the underground cavern with Shadow. The guardian’s perceptive amethyst eyes studied him a moment, and instead of offering a point of interest, he asked, “What did you want to see first?”

First? Shadow’s gaze traveled outwards, taking in the land sprawled before him, covering in morning dew and glistening in the rising sun. There was no question of where he WANTED to start, but his quills bristled at the thought of his encounters in the obsidian temple. Why was he drawn there if it unnerved him so? He stalled for time, casting Knuckles a sideways glace and asking, “So the spikes are real? I assumed it was part of your gloves.”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “they’re real. All guardians have them due to exposure to the energies of the Master Emerald.” Knuckles snorted with a toss of his head, “Not that I’m complaining. I’ll take anything that lets me pack an extra punch.”

Shadow nodded and the edge of his lips quirked with half-hearted amusement. Where to? He turned his back on the Marble Zone, choosing instead to go in the opposite direction, towards the center of the island and away from the base of the mountain. His eyes grazed the gleaming white slopes high in the sky. “There,” he said, pointing. Knuckles followed his hand. “Let’s start there.”

Knuckles flashed a fang he grinned so wide. “Sky Sanctuary,” he said appreciatively. “Good choice.” He side-eyed him. “Race you there?”

Shadow smirked. “You’re going to regret that, guardian.”

Knuckles seemed untroubled by the thought of losing, smiling and running off in the direction of the floating ruins. After giving him a sizeable head start, Shadow dug in his toes and raced after him, easily overtaking him with a smug face and making it to the edge of the zone of choice for the day. He pulled to a sharp stop, craning his head back to look at the metropolis that sprawled in a dizzying sense above his head. It wasn’t very far at all from the Hidden Palace Zone, so it only took a few minutes to travel between the two. Knuckles showed up fresh and warm from the friendly run, and he lifted an incredulous brow at the dark hedgehog.

“Well? Let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for an answer but instead squatted and leapt up high, his knuckles digging into the marble walls as he climbed into the aerial city. Shadow followed, bouncing up and leaping between the walls, using his momentum to jump higher into the decadent paths.

It was interesting, he thought, that even after so many years Sky Sanctuary still looked so beautiful. In the other zones he had seen, it was clear the toll time had taken on the environment. Even though the ivory marble was overgrown with climbing plants and greenery that filled the cracks, ferns and vines and strangler fig trees, the place was breathtaking. Several colorful flowers bloomed, the most striking being the climbing wisteria trees and their vibrant purple blooms. Shadow leapt and skidded around the bends, the winding pathways acting like a track laid out specifically for him and his speed. He ripped along the elevated pathways, jumped and soared across windy pitfalls, and craned his head about the inside and outside courtyards of the temple, its massive pillars enduring the test of time.

Sky Sanctuary was by far the polar opposite of the Marble Zone. Here it was windy and cool, open and bright. Down in the underground, the Marble Zone was hot and stifling, caged and dark. Even their marble and obsidian were extremes of white and black, and Shadow couldn’t help but laugh as the thought of himself and Sonic and their opposites came to mind. He bet the faker would love this place. Even though he far preferred the tenebrous mysteries of the Marble Zone, he did take a certain joy in the light-hearted racing and sunny, open spaces of Sky Sanctuary.

As he raced along, Shadow finally slowed down even more to take a closer look at the statues about. Most of them were snakes. Heavily feathered snakes with bright colors paled by the sun, though most specifically green. They curled around pillars, danced high into the sky, and were bridges between each floating section of ruins. Wings crowned the top of doorways and many swirling patterns—be they conch shells or whirlpools or hurricanes—finely decorated the pillars and glass floors and ceilings. It was as if the ancient metropolis reached high into the atmosphere, seeking to leave the ground even further behind. The open ruins wanted all the wind to rush inside and all the sun to gleam across its ivory structure. Exotic birds of all sorts flew in its rafters, nesting inside and filling the place with their peregrine songs.

Clouds cushioned the peak of the stunning zone. Shadow met Knuckles at the top, the guardian having made it to the main temple before Shadow because he climbed straight there without exploring. Chest heaving lightly in the early noon hours, Shadow asked him, “Did your people worship the green serpent?”

Knuckles nodded. “Yes. Its name is Quetzalcoatl. It means feathered serpent.” Shadow’s hesitation at how to say the name must have shown on his face, because Knuckles laughed warmly, explaining, “It’s my native tongue. The closest translation would be . . . Anemoi, I think, but that would translate closer to wind. Or, four winds.”

Shadow nodded. “Anemoi,” he repeated, looking at the head of one of the great serpents, its body acting as a railing extending up the temple steps. “Quetzal . . .” He trailed off uncertainly.

“Quetzalcoatl,” he repeated. Knuckles looked up at the glassy ceiling they were under. He pointed up to the rafters. “See the little green and red birds? Those are Quetzal. They’re named after the god.”

Shadow looked up, past the eagles that looked curiously for prey and past the colorful macaws. He found the vibrant hues of the little birds in question, and he thought of Rosie. She would love the little things.

Knuckles looked over at the dark hedgehog that was soaking in everything like a sponge. Pleased to have someone to share his heritage with, Knuckles tried and failed to fight an excited smile, saying, “Come on,” and racing up the temple steps.

Loath to tear his eyes away from the vivid colors of the birds above, Shadow lingered a moment longer before following the echidna up the steps and into the center and highest point of Sky Sanctuary’s temple. The massive dome was held up by thick pillars and open to the wind on every side, the birds singing loudly and keeping their nests up high. At the center of the room was a shrine, an opening above it sending a steady beam of sunlight down upon it. A great statue of Quetzalcoatl wrapped up and around in a corkscrew, its regal head looking down on them, its great jaws opened in a silent, eternal roar.

Knuckles put a gloved hand on the edge of the altar. “Legend says the Knuckles Tribe would collect the scales of the snakes and the feathers of the birds that lived in Sky Sanctuary,” he told Shadow, “and offer them as a gift back to Quetzalcoatl. It was said the more colorful the feathers and scales you offered, the greater your blessing would be.”

Shadow glanced at the musing guardian, letting him talk freely. Knuckles did so easily and eagerly, as if no one had ever really listened to his stories before. “Every spring, child and adult alike would collect leftover scales and fallen feathers for Quetzalcoatl,” he recalled wistfully as if he had been there. “It was almost as much of a game as it was a necessity. It was forbidden to pluck feathers from the sacred birds or to skin the snakes, but the celebration continued all day so families could collect enough feathers and scales for their offering.” Knuckles looked at Shadow briefly, saying, “Once they presented the feathers and scales to Quetzalcoatl on the altar, they would kneel, pray for prosperity, and Quetzalcoatl would accept it with a whirlwind.” He gestured to the opening at the top of the temple dome.

Intrigued at the story, Shadow asked, “Not living sacrifice?”

Knuckles grunted a laugh. “Not for Quetzalcoatl, no. Legend has it that each spring, Quetzalcoatl shed his skin and lost his feathers when he began his new life, and it was our offerings that allowed him to restore his body. Because of our offerings, Quetzalcoatl blessed us.”

Shadow shook his head, lips tipping up in amusement at the story. “Ancient civilizations never cease to amaze,” he said quietly with an edge of disbelief, looking up at the great winged serpent that stared unblinkingly down at him.

Knuckles fixed an intense stare on Shadow for a moment, and then, the guardian walked to the edge of the room, beginning to pluck stray feathers from the bushes. Shadow shifted, watching him incredulously. “Knuckles?” He wasn’t being serious, was he?

Apparently, as serious as a heart attack. The echidna looked back, saying in annoyance, “Well, are you going to help or not?” The guardian climbed up the pillars, reaching high into the rafters and disturbing the birds there. They flew about, chirping angrily as he carefully and non-threateningly picked their stray feathers from around their nests.

Musing that it might be mildly funny if the dumb guardian got one of his eyes pecked out for his silly experiment, Shadow begrudgingly began to safely pick up feathers from around the edge of the temple on the ground, leaving Knuckles to fight the birds. “If you find butterfly wings,” Knuckles shouted down, “it’s supposed to be good luck.” Luck—Shadow tried not to snort. Once he had a relatively good handful of feathers, also finding several long, brightly colored Quetzal tail feathers, Knuckles returned with an even bigger clutch of feathers. He even had a fragile snakeskin that had been shed some time ago, as it was beginning to fall apart under his touch.

Humoring the guardian, Shadow deposited his haul with him on the altar. It seemed like a respectable size for the two of them. Knuckles backed up and knelt down, and when Shadow didn’t, he shot him a sharp glance. Shadow looked up at the elaborate, twisting serpent statue that cast judgment on him in its fixed eyes. Feeling slightly ridiculous and slightly abashed, Shadow knelt next to Knuckles, staring at the marble floor.

Knuckles began to murmur softly in his native tongue, and Shadow peeked over at him. It sounded complicated with all its consonances and lilting impressions, but it had a pleasant sound. The prayer was short, and for several moments, they waited in silence to see if Quetzalcoatl would accept their gift. Shadow mused that perhaps he wouldn’t if he deemed Shadow an unbeliever. He certainly felt like a doubter. Shadow rolled his eyes in exasperation, moving to stand when the atmosphere changed.

The birds suddenly stopped singing, and a whistle of wind caused Shadow’s ears to perk. He looked up, and with a great howling gale, the temple suddenly filled with wind that tore around them. Shadow flinched in surprise, throwing an arm up as his fur rippled wildly, but Knuckles just stared in awe at the altar. The feathers and snakeskin lifted up from the shrine, swirling in a roaring vortex of color, up, up, and up all the way until the offering lifted through the ceiling aperture and was lost to the skies.

The wind tornado settled, none of the feathers and snake scales falling back inside. After a moment, the birds began singing gaily again, leaving Shadow in stunned silence. Heart pounding wildly, Shadow looked at Knuckles who stood with another soft word in his native tongue before he looked at him. Shadow stood carefully, as if expecting the random whirlwind to suddenly come back. As if he expected something to prove that the god accepting their offering was a fluke.

He cleared his throat roughly, asking, “So does creepy stuff like that happen all the time on this island?”

Knuckles laughed at his wary reaction, and Shadow crossed his arms, disgruntled and unnerved. He’d seen enough supernatural disturbances on the island, so the question was valid. “Not always,” Knuckles replied, “but things you can’t always explain can still happen. It’s one of Angel Island’s many great mysteries.” He put his hands on his hips and grinned, “Maybe my island likes you.”

Shadow snorted, annoyed at the thought while Knuckles just laughed at him, clearly taking some sort of twisted joy from his agitation. He looked up to the ceiling’s opening and scowled. Gift to the god. “So I take it Anemoi is the god of birds and wind?”

“Yes and no,” Knuckles said, leading him back out of the temple so they could look down at the sprawling ruins that crumbled about. “He’s personified by the wind, and animals associated with him are the birds and snakes, but that’s different. Quetzalcoatl is representative of the morning and evening star, so he represents life and death. Death and resurrection.” Knuckles shrugged, saying, “He’s the patron of echidna priests, the inventor of calendars and books, and the protector of craftsmen. For us, he represents knowledge, and most specifically, freedom.”

Shadow’s quills twitched, and he looked at Knuckles whose eyes seemed to be far away. “He represents all of that?” he asked.

Knuckles nodded without comment as they stood at the height of Sky Sanctuary, looking down on its marble pathways. From up here, Shadow finally noticed the peculiar construction of the place. Sure it was crumbling, but the unique pathways and loops that were completely useless in terms of regular people but gave Shadow a place to perform tricks and run just like the wind? From this distance, he could see that each of those pathways actually mimicked the elegant body of their serpent deity. The looping paths and slopes and corkscrew bridges around tall pillars were meant to represent his body and the pattern of his flights. No one could possibly run its complicated twists and turns except for Shadow—and Sonic, of course—but it seemed highly impractical for an ancient city of echidnas.

The sun rose higher, somehow making it all shine brighter. Shadow’s mind drifted back to the utter wonder that all of these ruins floated. He reached out for chaotic energy, and he found it like an ever present buzz in the back of his mind. He thought of Sky Sanctuary’s proximity to the Hidden Palace zone.

“I take it the Master Emerald is what allows Sky Sanctuary to float?”

“That’s right,” Knuckles affirmed.

Shadow frowned. “Just like it allows Angel Island to float,” he started, puzzled. “If Angel Island fell without the power of the Master Emerald, why hasn’t Sky Sanctuary?”

“I think it’s because the energies of the Master Emerald permeate into the land itself,” Knuckles answered patiently, walking up to the edge of the section of ruins they stood on. A wind rushed up, rustling his dreadlocks. “Right now, the land still hums with its energy. I can feel it.” He closed his eyes, probably reaching out just like Shadow had. “Of course, without the Master Emerald restored, the energies sustaining the land will fade. The Mushroom zone will dwindle and fade. Sky Sanctuary will eventually fall.” He glanced at Shadow with a sad, but wry smirk. “And nothing creepy will ever happen on the island again.”

He crossed his arms and looked out over the heavenly, floating ruins. It would be an absolute pity. It was no wonder the guardian took his job so seriously. Knuckles stepped up on the ledge, asking, “You hungry? There’s more than enough to eat here.”

“No,” Shadow responded instantly. His body was more than fueled with the excess chaos energies leeching from the soil and in the air. “I’m fine.” He leaned out, looking at the sprawling metropolis. “I think I want to explore.”

Knuckles shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back soon if you have more questions. Just stay away from the southernmost side of Sky Sanctuary; it’s already beginning to collapse.”

The guardian leapt off the edge, and for one brief moment Shadow thought he was suicidal before his dreads locked in the air and he began to glide down, arms stretched in front of him. Stunned at the casual display of an ability he hadn’t known the echidna had, Shadow watched Knuckles disappear down low under the ruins and out of sight.

Shadow looked back at the altar set innocuously in the center of the temple, and then Shadow leapt down, grinding on the railing of the stairs all the way down until he began skating across the vast, twisting expanse of Sky Sanctuary. He couldn’t help but feel elated that afternoon, surrounded by the wonder and mystery of one of the zones of Angel Island. And now, with more history under his belt, he thought he understood the place better. It was as if he could hear the whispered prayers of the ancient echidnas echoed in the rustle of the tree leaves. He could feel the joy of the celebration of spring and the rebirth of Quetzalcoatl, and he skated as fast as he could, letting the wind take his body where it willed.

The serpentine bodies of Anemoi led him on a speedy flight through Sky Sanctuary zone, lifting his heart and making his adrenaline rush. Shadow grinned, truly enjoying himself as he ducked under awnings, swerved between pillars, and scaled above the clouds. He ran and ran on, his skates pushing him with a might fueled by the excess energies of the Master Emerald, and Shadow knew it was ridiculous, but he felt like he had grown wings as he leapt between chasms and floating ruins.

That is, he had wings until he actually needed to grow wings. Along an open pathway, Shadow saw the same vexing spirit dart ahead of him, leading him on. Shadow bore down, chasing after it, as he went down a slope. The ball of light zoomed ahead, again easily outstripping his speed, and it swept up into the air to a structure high above.

Shadow skidded to a halt at the edge of what could only be described as a ramp, lurching precariously on the edge. Panting at the close call, Shadow craned his head back, squinting up at the piece of ruins floating so high up. It was a statue of Quetzalcoatl, a small courtyard of flowers on its back, but the patio closed into a tunnel reaching through Anemoi’s neck. The tunnel reached all the way up the structure’s throat until Shadow could see birds flying out of Anemoi’s fanged mouth.

His spirit friend didn’t come down from the distant white marble. He judged the massive gap between his platform and the one so high up. Even at his top speed with the ramp he stood on, coupled with a homing attack, he didn’t see a way of making it. He’d plummet like a rock before he reached the edge. He mused that perhaps the ancient echidnas hadn’t meant for the section to drift so far away, but now there was no getting it back. He stood on the edge of the ramp, on top of the guiding head of Quetzalcoatl, but he turned back, leaving the leap of faith behind.

Coming down from the adrenaline of his race, Shadow set out to find Knuckles again. The sun was well into the afternoon by now, and he had more questions. He saw a speck of red below, and Shadow leapt down and rolled over the slopes of Sky Sanctuary, heading down to him. He landed firmly on the ledge with Knuckles, and the guardian was chewing on a stalk of grain.

“You were moving so fast I thought you were going to jump it like Sonic does,” Knuckles said conversationally. Shadow stiffened, irked that he had copped out when Sonic had apparently done it. Shadow sat down with him, and Knuckles shook his head. “Never seen anything like it before,” he said, looking up at the distant Quetzalcoatl construction. “It’s like the wind catches him and carries him right up there. I’ve tried to make the jump, but even when I’m gliding I can’t quite make it up that. I’d say it’s impossible except for the fact that I’ve seen Sonic do it.”

Shadow’s lips pressed at the idea that it was something only Sonic could do. He gazed up at the extreme altitude of the platform. He’d jump it. He’d jump up there on his own time, and that’d prove the guardian wrong—

“So what made you so curious about Angel Island in the first place?”

He snapped out of his jealous musings at the guardian’s deep voice. His quills twitched once. Now would be a good segue into his dealings at the obsidian temple. Hesitant for some reason to tell him, Shadow evaded the heart of the question with, “When Maria and I lived on the ARK, we would always look down on Earth, wishing to be down here. The ARK was so sterile and devoid of nature that it was always our greatest dream to travel and see the sights.”

Shadow’s brow cinched, and he looked away, down at the lower platforms. That was more than he wanted to share with the guardian. Disgruntled by the Freudian slip, Shadow clammed up when Knuckles pointed out, “Sightseeing is different from learning history. What changed?”

Everything had changed. He was fifty years in the future. Maria was old, she had a family, she had friends, she had a job, and Shadow had nothing. He clung to her and her family as his only link to the modern age. Without them, he wouldn’t have known how to function. But for the first time in his life, Shadow found something HE liked. Maria and Dr. Robotnik had always pushed him to learn their science, to marvel at it and want to discover its wonders. Shadow . . . Shadow liked HISTORY. He liked this, the mysteries of Angel Island and the odd peculiarities it presented. He wanted to know how much of their legends were truth and how much were stories.

So despite being unnerved, he admitted to the patient guardian, “I was in the obsidian temple earlier this week. Who is it dedicated to?”

Knuckles leaned back on his hands, looking in the distance towards the base of Red Mountain. “Tezcatlipoca,” he answered. “It means smoking mirror.” After a brief pause, he added, “The closest translation is Terios, meaning reflection of.”

A shiver ran up Shadow’s spine at the name. He leaned his elbows on his knees, gazing in the direction where he could FEEL the tug of the ancient temple calling to him. He ignored it, choosing to instead listen to Knuckles and gather some reconnaissance where he could, wanting to understand more about the temple before he set foot in it again.

“The Marble Zone is rich in obsidian,” Knuckles told him, “and obsidian is used to make dark mirrors, thus, the translations. These mirrors were used for shamanic rituals and prophecy. Tezcatlipoca is the god of the night sky, and his presence is known by the appearances of hurricanes and discord. He’s . . .” and Knuckles interrupted himself with a small laugh. “Well, he’s the god of many different things. He’s the god of divination, sorcery, temptation, war and strife, and even beauty. He’s the patron of warriors. His animals are jaguars and horned owls.”

Ah, so that explained at least why he saw the jaguar in his reflection. Uneasy prickles chased up Shadow’s fur. Knuckles continued, “The most important thing about Tezcatlipoca was that he was the god of memory and time, filled with eternal youth. He is . . . the embodiment of change through conflict.”

Filled with unease he couldn’t place, Shadow looked from the dark temple at the base of Red Mountain back up to the shining Sky Sanctuary. “So Anemoi and Terios’ colors were white and black?”

“Respectively.”

Shadow frowned. White and black. Light and dark. Freedom and conflict. They sounded like the stereotypes of good and evil. His heart squeezed at the idea of their sharp contrasts, and he asked, “Anemoi and Terios fought all the time, didn’t they?”

“Naturally.”

He had to ask. “Was Terios evil?”

Knuckles heaved a sigh and shook his head, saying, “No. No, he wasn’t evil. Many of Angel Island’s myths center on Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca’s battles, but neither are shown to be better than the other. They simply . . . represent different things. After all, Tezcatlipoca is the one that ushers in change, and change allows for growth. Because of him, we can see the beauty of the night, appreciate the sacrifice of our warriors, and grasp the sanctity of remembering the fallen, our history.”

Shadow nodded. For some reason, it made him feel better about things. He didn’t really think that it explained why he felt such a connection to the temple, but he liked knowing. Maybe next time he investigated the temple, he would find whatever it was the spirit was trying to show him.

His eyes drifted up to Sky Sanctuary, heart cowed by its magnificence. For some time, they both sat in silence, each wrapped up in their own musings. The sun began to set, a warm bloody sunset over the cool blue sea. Shadow took a deep breath of the salty wind, and finally, it was Knuckles that broke the silence. He asked abruptly, “Did you ask Maria about the Master Emerald?”

Shadow bristled immediately. Of course the guardian was still hung up on that. “I did,” he said shortly. “She was there for research on Chaos Theory.”

Knuckles grunted, “That right?”

“It is,” Shadow bit out. “They detected the energy from when Chaos escaped the Master Emerald the first time and it renewed scientific interest in Chaos Theory. Maria is the lead scientist on Chaos Theory, so when they gained funding for the trip to Angel Island, she was naturally the lead.” He paused in his explanation, not caring a bit whether or not Knuckles believed it, and he turned to the echidna with a frown. “Chaos,” he said, suddenly struck with a thought he needed answered. “Dr. Gerald said Perfect Chaos wiped out the Knuckles Clan with all seven Chaos Emeralds. Is that true?”

Brows cinching at the shift in conversation, Knuckles replied, “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Dr. Gerald has visited Angel Island before,” Shadow said, eyes boring into Knuckles. “Twice. Both times were before my . . .” he hesitated around the word birth and incubation and settled on, “creation, but he said there were no intelligent life forms on the island. Every echidna was killed by Perfect Chaos, and a mysterious cataclysm had taken the rival tribe.”

“The Nocturnes Tribe,” Knuckles agreed with a nod, frowning with just as much intensity at Shadow as he did him. “When the war between our tribes reached its zenith, Chief Pachacamac tried to seize the seven Chaos Emeralds for a decisive victory. He woke the fury of the ancient god Chaos, and it wiped out my entire civilization.”

“That’s the story?”

Knuckles faced him fully, shoulders tense. “A shortened summary, but yes.”

“But you agree,” Shadow pressed, “that it wiped out every last echidna from the face of the planet?”

“I know my kind’s history,” Knuckles growled, his hands fisting aggressively. “Must you mock the annihilation of my race?”

Oh, he was taking this all wrong! Shaking his head, Shadow burst, “I’m not trying to mock your history, I’m trying to understand! If you agree that every last echidna was killed, then how are you here?”

He watched Knuckles’ eyes simultaneously widen and cinch with confusion. “I . . . What?”

Shadow resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d certainly knocked whatever cog it was that kept his mind together ajar. The guardian was staring dumbstruck and not doing much else. “You,” Shadow gestured to him with a hand. “How are you here? If the entire race was extinct, like Dr. Gerald said when he visited Angel Island, then how do you exist?”

Slowly, slowly Knuckles’ brain began to function again, and his body language turned inward as he muttered, “I don’t . . . Surely not my entire race—”

“Oh don’t change your mind now,” Shadow drawled mockingly, wrinkling his nose and crossing his arms. “You just said—”

“I know what I said,” Knuckles grumbled, clenching his fists again. The spikes on his hands looked downright dangerous. “There had to be a few survivors.”

“Dr. Gerald was here over fifty years ago, Knuckles,” Shadow reminded him. “There were no survivors. No living echidna was found.”

“Well maybe he lied!” Knuckles snarled.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shadow scoffed, tossing his chin. “What reason would the Doctor have for lying?”

“I don’t know, but maybe you should—”

“Did you have parents, Knuckles?”

Again, the guardian was blindsided by his question, blinking dumbly. “What?”

“You heard me,” Shadow said. He flung a hand out as the sun began to set. “Parents, Knuckles. Did you have them? Did someone raise you? You can’t have lived here alone since you were a kid.”

Finally he questioned the echidna silent. His throat moved, and he turned his head sharply away, his dreadlocks falling over his face. Shadow looked at his clenching fists, and then back up to his concealed face. At his telling silence, Shadow’s voice finally fell to a quieter tone, and he asked, “What do you remember?”

After a brief moment, Knuckles heaved a sigh. “Not much,” he said quietly. “But, as far back as I can remember, I’ve been living here on this island, always guarding the Master Emerald from anything that could harm it. I don’t know why I was given this job or why it was my fate . . .” He trailed off uncertainly, and he shook his head in agitation. His fists clenched tighter. “I just can’t remember! I KNOW certain things. About the island, about my culture that isn’t written down. I know in my heart.”

Shadow listened to him talk as the sun set. Amnesia. He’d never met someone else like himself who was missing pieces of their memory. Did Knuckles ever tell anyone before? Had he even thought about it before? How much was missing? He hated to say something like he’d found a kindred spirit, but . . . he could sympathize.

Knuckles took a deep breath, and his dreads swayed with motion again. “I feel like I had parents,” he said quietly. “I feel like I can remember them. A certain sight or smell, or even a sound in the wind—it can trigger something. Never enough to remember, but enough to make me wonder.” He paused, looking at Shadow seriously.

“I’ve never thought about being the only one deeply before,” he admitted. “I know I’m the only echidna left, but I hate to dwell on the thought. It might be why I never question it, but . . .”

He trailed off. Shadow stared intently at him. “Don’t you want to know?”

At length, Knuckles gave a weak snort and looked at the sun sinking below the horizon. He said, “Why? Knowing won’t change anything.”

Shadow’s fur frizzled. “It would change how you look at this,” he argued. “You love the history of your people, but you can’t even value the history of yourself?”

“I have no history,” Knuckles growled, “I just AM.”

“Everyone has a history, whether they know it or not,” Shadow told him sharply. Why didn’t the guardian care? Shadow would kill to know his past—HAD killed in order to learn his past. He bristled at Knuckles’ apathy. “You mean to tell me instead of trying to find out why and how you’re here, you’d rather just sit here and fade into extinction without answers?”

“Answers aren’t going to change anything about the lot I’ve been given,” Knuckles bit out, purple eyes practically glowing in the growing darkness. Shadow could feel the chaos energies prickling in the air, probably because of their agitation. Maybe the guardian would punch him right in his teeth for digging. “Maybe it helps you settle your past, but we don’t get to choose how loss works. If I don’t want to know, then I don’t want to know. And you want to know what I think? I think that it’s probably for the best that I don’t know.”

Shadow rocketed to his feet. His heart pounded loudly in his head. How could he think that? How in the world did he think not knowing the truth of things was better? He’d rather let his race waste away into extinction without fighting for information that, god help him, might actually shed a little light on the situation? Shadow stood for one moment, torn between berating the echidna for a rise and simply leaving him to atrophy when a deep crack suddenly echoed through the air.

Knuckles jackknifed to his feet, running to the opposite edge of their shared platform. Shadow followed him, and he stopped some feet behind the rigid guardian. In the distance, he could see the source of the sound, an impeccably large portion of one of the southern temples splitting. The grand spiraling tower began to crumble large chunks in a steady spiral, shaking and collapsing until there was nothing left of it. The temple it had been attached to groaned, and the far pillar also snapped under its own weight until the debris slowly settled.

He could hear Knuckles’ labored breathing from where he stood. For a second, Shadow thought Knuckles would actually vent some frustration on him in a very physical way—after all, the guardian could surely use it—but instead he simply turned around, passionate eyes gleaming with pain. There was a long beat of silence in which Knuckles controlled his temper and then spoke.

“I am very aware that I am the last of a dying race, Shadow,” he said stiffly, eyes unwavering. “Look around you. Even this island crumbles under the weight of its own neglect without the Master Emerald to sustain it. So yes, I pour everything I am into protecting that rock and this spit of land because it’s all I know and all I have. Ancient history; my heritage; keeping the last of it alive—that’s all that matters to me. Because I know that eventually, yes,” and the bitterness in his voice deepened sharply, “I’ll die too, and there won’t be anyone to care for the Master Emerald. There won’t be anyone to care for Angel Island. It could all go to hell after I’m gone and no one would care about it all after I’m gone. So if I find my purpose in protecting this place, then let me find my peace there. Is it any different to how you protect Maria to find your purpose?”

Shadow’s veins chilled. Knuckles gave a harsh laugh, and he shook his head in dismay. “Of course not,” he muttered. “Unlike me, you’ll outlive her.”

There was a beat of silence in which Shadow froze, his brain processing the guardian’s words.

Then, he attacked.