Authors note: I know I'm a little late to the Jak and Daxter fanfic scene... but I've had an itch to write this for years... and have been replaying the games.
This is my first fan-fiction in a very, very, long time. It's also my first Jak fan fiction ever, so if there's anyone still out there to read it, I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you see any problems.
This takes place after Jak 3, by about two years. I've never played Jak X, and for the purpose of this particular Fic, I'm going to pretend it doesn't exist.
Damas shook with rage. Every single fiber of his being wanted to scream. To scream at Erol and Veger, or at that damned green sage who said nothing could be done. To scream at the sky, and those worthless Precursors who seemed to have doomed them all with their shortsightedness. To scream at the young warrior in his arms, laying in a pool of his own blood. The warrior who died saving the same people who condemned and tortured him.
The young warrior who had just been revealed as his very own son. Mar.
"Mar..." Damas breathed, touching the teens face. It was so very cold.
Damas looked to the sky, just as the sage placed a careful hand on his shoulder. He cursed. Nothing could save their world now. The sky was falling, and the planet crumbled beneath them. He looked back down, and white, hot anger welled up once again. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered to him now.
The last Precursor looked up at the king, a sad, hopeless look in his eyes. His power was gone, and he could do nothing to save this corrupted world any longer, "This was never meant to happen. Things went so off course this time. I'm truly sorry."
The sage tried to pull on Damas's shoulder, suggesting they should leave. Damas refused. He continued to gaze at the boy in his arms.
His son was dead... and he never got to know the truth.