The Jak and Daxter game series and all related elements © Naughty Dog Incorporated

Herz, Doe and Koe Hessian, Rall Hage/Hessian, Amarta Tierth, Brenna Vamilo, and most named KG © Blu

Rheanon and Seima Llast and most named Precursors © Laina

Rfena Veras, Azalea Mirithir, Giu Avaar, Keela Sevah, and Aelyn Adalla © Taitai

Veer Shurra, Melir Varhaden, Kisan Acheron, Emori Geel, Makao Lurish, Amarta Tierth, Brenna Vamilo, and Rune Thian © Nashi


Authors' Notes:

Dear gentle, understanding and most compassionate reader,

You are about to embark on the most cracktastic, canon smearing, in-character fic you have ever had the mis/fortune to stumble upon. If you understand even a tiny bit of it, well, congratulations.

This fic will include, but is not limited to, the following;

Ignoring of the laws of…basically everything. Slash. Extremely detailed Eco Theory. Incest. Pointing out of things you probably never paid any attention to in the games. FAR too much mention of time travel. Awkward family reunions. VERY awkward family reunions. Awkward families in general. More OC story arcs than you can shake anything, let alone a stick, at. Threatening behavior. Allusions to serious abuse, criminality, and getting plastered. Lotsa paperwork for Torn (yay). Bipolar Baronesses. One PISSED OFF ex. A resurrected king. An angrily resurrected BARON. A racer with sand in unpleasant places. ONE Original Character x Canon Character pairing. Assgrabbing. Metalhead x KG pairing. FLG x KG pairing, sorta. Bizarre familial relations that were never mentioned in-game. Fanboys. Homophobes. Poorly-translated German. Names that are way too freaking hard to pronounce. An all around lack of sunglasses. Uncomfortable conversational topics. LOTS of uncomfortable conversational topics. Cranky people. Happy people. CONFUSED AS HELL people. Dead people…only not. Gol with a spoon. Technically, necrophilia. Lotsa stuff we'll act like you already know when really you don't. Far too much starting-in-the-middle. Cat fights. Backstories. Insanity and chaos. Arc after arc after arc…

…OH, and a mostly-sane Erol.

If any of the aforementioned topics disagree with you in any way, then you're seriously missing out. Like whoa. So, I guess sux 2 b u.


One: Balance


In the year during which the Kras Racing Tourney took place, and for a year afterward, there was—for once—no mention of anything bigger, anything related to the Precursors or Mar or any serious universe-threatening danger. This was because the Precursors themselves, far from the planet but in constant orbit through the same system, on the light daystar called the Green Sun, were deliberating.

The council had been meeting in full almost since they'd left the planet with Mar in tow. True, they had sent him back half the year into the journey, to the bare moments after his past self had left in the ship, but it was not without reluctance.

High Leader Rewaf was approached by several of his followers—mostly the few Light Channelers—who had brought up a point shortly after Mar had left. A point that had been avoided over the years, because the truth of it was not something the council had wanted to be public knowledge.

Apparently the Light Precursors had figured it out anyway. It made sense that they had, seeing as it was their base energy that epitomized one half of the realization, but that didn't make it any easier to hear.

Particularly not from Rewaf's own granddaughter, so young yet that she hadn't even come fully into her powers.

"There's something wrong," the little white Precursor had whispered. "Something very wrong. We were all talking about it after Mar left, about the Light and—" she lowered her voice to a mere breath between teeth. "—and the Dark. The Dark in him. A-And we all realized something."

There was something inherently wrong with the war. Mar himself had shown this race that just because the Makers were Light and the Dark Makers were the opposite—beings of shadow and night and the bitter tang of a Higher Eco seemingly gone wrong—didn't mean that such darkness was evil.

Mar had been infused with Dark Eco, and while the Precursors could have banished the Dark from his system entirely they had chosen, instead, to counterbalance that. Mar had grown dependent on the Dark within him to survive, a sudden removal would more than likely cause his death. And even if he did survive, he would have been lost to madness—again, and permanently this time.

Then there was Veger, the man who had claimed the right of transformation to Precursor. He had named himself an emissary of Light, even toyed with the highest of energies his race could wield. His own child, shattered as she was, was the most focused Light Saturate the Precursors had seen on this nameless world since they went into hiding. He had an affinity with Light, that one, and yet he was most certainly not on the side of good.

And therein lay the problem. Light was not always good, and Dark was not always evil. There was need for a balance, a coexistence, for even the smallest of lives to continue unabated.

But Mar's world no longer had a balance. There was peace, most certainly, but no balance. The darker side of the balance; elves like Baron Praxis, Erol, and even long dead figures such as the Acherons, had all been eradicated.

Without them, the world would ultimately fall into ruin. And that was no good, because they were going to actively need Mar sometime in the future. Which meant that the world itself needed to continue.

The question currently under deliberation was a difficult one: How were they going to accomplish that? They couldn't just create new enemies to drop on their children. That went against all that they represented, all they were. The elven race had proven capable of creating its own enemies in the past, but that took time. Time that this young race simply didn't have. If this imbalance wasn't remedied soon, the entire world could fall to ruin within a century.

Something had to be done.

It had been yet another solid month of debate and they were running out of ideas. More importantly, they were running out of time. Elder Rewaf, High Leader of the entire Precursor race, had been listening silently for weeks now, as the ideas were narrowed down into only a few choices, hoping that someone would come up with the solution.

He knew what had to be done. It had been obvious from the moment that the problem that funneled this debate had been brought up. So far, no one had suggested the idea. He hadn't mentioned it, hoping that someone else would have the initiative and the memory to recall that it could be done. It would take careful planning, intense study and calculation, but it could be done.

It had to be done, or all was lost.

Today, as many days before, the debating continued. Rewaf nodded to Rheanon as she set a tray of food in front of him, motioning for her to wait a moment. When there was a lull in the continued conversation, the Elder Precursor raised his hand to call attention. The entire Council turned to him, and he turned to Rheanon.

She was young, young enough to still believe where others didn't, to see things in a different light where others couldn't. Hopefully she would be able to state what had to be done.

"Granddaughter, if faced with this problem of ours, what would you do?"

"Hmm…" Orange eyes took in the council chamber as the small ottsel thought. "I remember some of the stories that Mother used to tell us before…you know." She lowered her eyes and continued quietly. "There was one that had a bunch of people that had lost their balance, and—"

"If you're suggesting we follow a…a kitling's bedtime story, Elder Rewaf" Miena interjected, "then I am afraid your will may end up being challenged before this cycle is through."

He simply smiled. The spark had been lit, it would be enough for the others to set this idea burning.

Formah squinted in thought. "Hmm, you know, I think I know that one," he said, as though musing to himself. "It's been a long time since I heard it, 'course—a long time since any of us were kits—but I remember." He interlocked his black-on-gold fingers, elbows on the table, and gave the older ottsel next to him a faint smile. "Do you remember, Lik'ter? I think it was you that told me the story when I was still a kit."

The grey-furred Precursor nodded sagely. Once his fur has been the clearest blue, dark to the point of black at the ends of his fingers and toes and tail, but it had long since faded out to an icy grey, much like there were streaks and patches of near-white on Formah now. "Thousands of years ago, I think it was. Well before Mar came the first time, and all over again."

His sapphire eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to peer through a great fog off in the distance. "Five of our kind…renegades, but still our kind…performed a small resurrection on a dying, unfinished planet."

Miena raised one furry eyebrow ridge.

"Not only for the high species," Lik'ter continued, "but the lower ones as well. If there was only one butterfly, now there were seven. Seven of all they could gather, of all they could find. And more of the high species, enough of Dark and Light both to bring balance enough to the planet. Enough for it to…to…" He trailed off and shook his head with a weak chuckle. "My apologies, Formah, it has been so long since you were a kitling. I do not remember."

Formah shook his head. "Don't apologize, old friend. I remember the rest." He turned to look out at the rest of the council. "It was enough for the planet to finish itself. For the earth to revive and start working again, to level the mountains that we should have leveled and fill the lakes that we should have filled—that we hadn't been able to fill thanks to an attack from our Dark sister-race. The world, once it reached a proper balance, completed itself and gained protection from our Dark sisters and brothers, and proved itself able to survive all on its own."

"And what," queried Liahar from the far end of the table, her scarlet eyes glinting with nothing but curiosity, "happened to the Precursors who performed this resurrection?"

Here Formah turned and looked past Lik'ter and instead on to Fah'tol, the oldest of the Precursors and as such keeper of memories, of records and recollections to be passed on to his great-grandchildren's grandchildren.

He tapped his claws idly on the table. "I don't quite remember…but I believe," he whispered, blue-white eyes narrowed slightly in thought, "that they died." The white-furred elder nodded slowly. "Yes, they must have died. Only five, none of them a proper conduit…they must have died. They must have—" His eyes widened, a sudden clarity coming to his vision that hadn't been seen in some time. "They must have used a measure of True Eco for that, Elder Rewaf! We have a store of such energy, yes, but none of us could wield it. It would take someone whose body and channeling lines hadn't settled completely yet. Someone—"

"Someone young," Formah completed before Fah'tol could get too worked up. Amber eyes cast to meet Rheanon's orange. "A kitling."

"You aren't seriously suggesting we consider this, Elder Rewaf!" Miena's voice was layered with incredulity. "We can't follow some kitling's story as—as fact!" She gestured harshly at Rheanon, who still stood silent at her grandfather's side

Rewaf gestured toward Fah'tol. "Fah'tol was alive in that time, Miena. He knows it happened because he read and filed the original report." He smiled faintly. "You forget that, as the leader of this race, I have had access to every record of our people. I learned of this many, many years ago. It is possible."

"Not only possible," Lik'ter added, "but very plausible."

Miena turned her gaze away from Rewaf's white-furred granddaughter to look at her fellow council members. All other talk, whispers and quiet asides, had ceased at this point, curiosity pervading the room.

"So," Rewaf declared, "the question is, can we find the records on this small-scale resurrection, and duplicate it in a larger form?" He turned to the aging record-keeper again. "Fah'tol?"

"There is mention of it," he replied. "But…I don't recall there being anything specific. Unless we can figure out the specifics and calculations to enhance them…" He raised a hand and waved slightly, summoning one of the other serving-hands in the room.

Seima came forward, having refused to leave until her younger sister, Rheanon, was permitted the same courtesy. Fah'tol whispered something in her ear, touched the middle of her palm with this index finger, and sent her off.

Several minutes passed in tense silence. Rheanon slowly stepped behind her grandfather's chair, taking a break from getting caught by Miena's accusing gaze.

"If you don't mind my asking," Miena started once Rheanon moved out of her line of sight, "what exactly are we going to do if we do manage to work out a resurrection? Who—and what—are we going to be brought back?"

"Well…if balance is to be restored," Lik'ter said, "we must restore darkness to Mar's world. We must bring back those who represented Dark. Enough Dark to balance the Light of those who live now."

Formah's eyes narrowed slightly, riddled with guilt. "After all that work to wipe them out, they're just being brought back anyway. Our poor children…"

"Not just them," Liahar stated easily. "Lots were killed before they could make the decision between the different paths. We would have to bring them back, too, to make sure the balance continued to—"

She cut off when the door slid open and Seima returned, garnering the complete attention of the Council. She held something in her small hands, and handed it carefully to Fah'tol when she reached him.

It was a book.

He smiled when he took it, running his pure white paws over the worn cloth and coppery metal. As he watched, Rewaf couldn't help but feel a swell of amazement not unlike Fah'tol's obvious nostalgia that the book had survived for so long—and still appeared to be in good repair! Such forethought his people had…

"I think this is the right one," Seima said, enunciating carefully. She too, was still so young. If not for her energy alignment—proclaimed by her burnt-sienna fur and bright red eyes—she could have been the kitling to use in this endeavor.

"It is," Fah'tol murmured. "This describes various extensions of power and their conversions. It isn't normally used anymore—most of the standard information has been digitized these days—but I think it will help."

Seima gave a nod to the elder and then beckoned to Rheanon; the smaller ottsel kit padded over, and together they turned to leave.

Liahar raised a hand for attention. "Rheanon, I think you should stay. From what we've heard so far, you may just have to be our conduit."

Rewaf's nod confirmed it. Rheanon gave Seima a pleading look, but her minutes-older littermate only patted her head and waved for her to move back to stand at their grandfather' side. Once she returned to her original place, Rewaf lightly patted her hand in reassurance.

The council room once more broke out in a buzz of voices.

"That was well done kitling. I'm very proud of you."

"I…I didn't do anything," she breathed, eyes downcast.

He smiled. "Someday you may feel otherwise."

A moment passed. "Grandfather," she said slowly. "What about the elves? Shouldn't we…warn them about what we're planning to do? And—And the people who've been dead longer aren't going to understand the differences. Things have been moving forward without them."

"They're just going to have to deal," Miena said, tossing her red hair over one shoulder. "If Mar had just stayed longer, until we'd worked this all out, he might have been able to warn them. But he didn't, and now there's no way to contact them."

"It's better this way, in the long run," Formah agreed. "It'll be hard, but it will also restore the planet to what it is capable of, and ensure Mar's help in the future when we need him. Really, it's a win-win for all."

Rheanon didn't exactly frown, and whatever thoughts she had about Formah's statement she kept to herself, but Rewaf knew just from the twitch in her tail that she didn't like this plan very much.

"Just the elves, not the Hora Quan," Lik'ter said. "We can't very well bring back the Hora Quan anyway, considering they aren't our children."

Liahar spoke next. "Which elves? And from when?"

"The Acherons most definitely. They were the first that Mar defeated, and meant quite a lot to the balance of the world," Fah'tol replied. "I believe the sage will be one of our more important resurrections, if we can manage it."

"They'll need to be cleansed and rebalanced," added Miena, "otherwise they won't last more than two months once they're back."

"That should be easy enough. Who else?"

"Baron Praxis and Commander Erol."

"What about that Krew fellow? And Mizo."

"No, Krew's daughter effectively took up their duties when they died, so they're both rather superfluous."

"We're not going to want just them. I think we're going to need King Damas, too. And the soldiers that died in that—that massacre that sparked the rebellion against Praxis."

On and on it went. Names and ranks of people and organizations were thrown around the room. Some were rejected as unnecessary, replacements for them already in place on the planet. Most were accepted as needed. Finally, the debating was called to a halt.

It had been decided. It was for the good of the planet, and the good of the race that the Precursors had created. Though the Makers themselves would never be able to end their own war and regain proper balance—it required changing things that had been integrated into them for millennia—they could repair the damage done to their fledgling race, and the damaged planet.

The power calculations were left to the buzzing minds of three Blue Eco-channeling council members, and with the added assistance of Fah'tol's book, it was figured and calculated and refigured until they had a final equation to follow.

It took two weeks. After over a year of debate and discussion, the calculations only took two weeks. It was painfully ironic.

Using Rheanon as the conduit was the risky part. She was still too young to have been properly trained, and if they pushed too fast they could run the risk of burning her out. Likewise, if the pushed too slowly the energy field would collapse and rebound, shattering Rheanon's eco field and damaging all the others. There would be a circle around her of the other Light Channelers as guides and directors, but anyone trained enough to do what they had to was far too old to do what Rheanon was needed for. But there were so few Light Channelers already, the risk was more dire than most could comprehend.

But it was the only way. Rheanon had agreed to take the risk of being a conduit—not without some convincing from her grandfather, she was shy and scared out of her mind by the prospect of what she was doing—and the others had followed.

Everything was coming together, threads in the tapestry pulling close to create a full picture the likes of which the Precursors' child-race had never seen, and wouldn't soon forget.


Three days after the calculations were made, a full conference was called. Not a soul was left out—those who couldn't leave their quarters were sent a broadcast to view, and all the rest gathered in the little-used population hall at the heart of the ship.

"The process will go something like this," Siinmak—one of the oldest Light Channelers, second only to Fah'tol—explained to all the Precursors willing to be involved in the endeavor. "All Channelers will be split into groups according to the alignments, and each group will be placed on a specific level and sector of the ship. You'll all be given your specific positions according to age and ability, and those will be explained later by individual council members. When everyone is in position, these same council members will give a signal and everyone will push their power through to the person ahead of them."

"This," Formah continued, gesturing about with his hands, "will ensure a collective chain of Eco that will gather at the center of the ship. The circle of Light Channelers," he gestured at Siinmak, "will cycle the eco through three times through their group to make sure there's proper combination, forming the Light Eco. From there, they're going to channel the energy into Rheanon, who will let it cycle seven more times before pushing it out it into a large concussion blaster that's being built as we speak."

Rewaf waved a hand to garner the attention of his people, looking out over them as the council gave their explanations. "This device will be lined with True Eco," he warned, "so no one is to come in contact with it except the other Elders and myself. During the channeling process we will all be focused on keeping the field stable, with the added assistance of the two Dark Channelers in our number."

A murmur of dissent rippled through the crowd. True Eco was hard to handle, being the end-all of energy types, the material used to create worlds and bring life to those worlds, and while the Dark Channelers would be helpful, it still didn't feel safe to be using them. Poor things, genetic throwbacks to the days when the Dark Makers and the Precursors had been one race, it was rare they lived to adulthood with no one to teach them to handle their own energy. Expecting them to do much of anything was dangerous.

Dangerous, but necessary.

"While we hold the lining of True Eco in place, Rheanon will fuse the Light Eco she channeled with it and thereby set off a chain reaction. The imbalance in the True Eco will cause an overflow of restorative energy—but we Elders will already have planted our will in the True Eco, so it will do as it's been shown."

Now there was a shiver. All eco was alive, to be sure, but the sudden realization that True Eco could be assumed to have some form of sentience… It was a frightening prospect for the younger Makers to face. No wonder their elders always warned them of the danger in attempting to harness True Eco.

Rewaf continued, not nearly as oblivious to his people's concern as he seemed. "Once the chain reaction is set off, the blaster will be fired at the planet and waves of eco will focus where it has been told and restore the lives necessary to save our child-race from stagnation."

He turned to Siinmak and nodded, and the Elder stepped forward and looked out over the crowd. "Assignments will be delivered to your homes as soon as possible—be willing to leave for practice at a moment's notice. For now, you are dismissed."


In the chaos of the concussion blaster's assembly and the Precursors practicing their channeling like never before, a smaller, much more dangerous experiment was underway. Rewaf pretended ignorance to what Rheanon and Seima were doing ever so quietly, only leaving little things for their exercise.

Both plans were on schedule. Rheanon would be present to channel the Eco needed to rebalance the planet, and then shortly after she would attempt something far more dangerous to herself. It would not be for quite some time, but Rewaf already knew of its success—his granddaughter would walk with Mar's people, as one of them, soon enough. For now she was needed here.

Another several months passed before the blaster was ready, merged properly with the ship and arranged so as to allow Rheanon and the other Light Channelers a place to stand, and the Elders and Dark Channelers space enough around the outside to hold the True Eco lining in place. After that, it took still another half a year before the Light Daystar orbited close enough to the planet to complete its task—by then it had been almost three years since Mar had taken down the Dark Maker ship dispatched to twist his planet.

It was almost time. There were only a few last minute preparations to be completed—everyone knew their place, their part, and their duty—and all that was left was to check once more on the connections of this weapon that was not really a weapon, this cannon that would give life rather than take it.

Finally, things were ready. Rheanon pressed her small paws against the round knob at the heart of the Light Channelers' platform, took a deep breath, then nodded.

"Now!" She called, her headpiece sending the message out through the ship as fast as sound could travel.

Before echoes had even begun to reverberate through the coppery metal halls and huge chambers filled with plants and water and electricity, the other Precursors began to channel.

Rheanon closed her orange eyes as the flow began. First it reached the circle of older Channelers, and from there it cycled around the loop before flowing toward the youngest of them. To the observing crystal-cameras—the council had insisted on recording the event for the sake of science—the eco poured in and swirled over Rheanon's head, becoming a whirlpool of Light that flowed through the white ottsel, into the knob she held and then to the blaster itself. The collective power effectively halted her movements, pressing upon her with a weight like she had never felt before.

The Light contacted the True Eco inside and energy began to build. There was a soft whine as a glow collected at the tip of the weapon, growing brighter and brighter as the little white ottsel funneled more and more power into the blaster. At last there was no more eco to be channeled, and the chain reaction reached critical mass.

The elves on the planet looked up in curiosity—it changed swiftly to fear as the beam hurtled down from the sky. It impacted the earth, and waves of life-making energy flowed outwards, covering the planet.


In the Waste, near the city of Spargus, there was a movement out in the sand. A head came up, as though breaking the surface of water after a deep dive, and the man spit the coarse granules from his mouth, wiping it from his face and then reaching up to dust it from his red-orange hair.

He had been buried—but how? And by whom? Bright yellow eyes looked around for a long moment as Erol, former commander of the Krimzon Guard, took in his surroundings and found nothing but sand and stone to lay blame on for where he had just woken up.


Two matching sets of eyes, both red-flecked brown, met in confusion as Gol and Maia Acheron tumbled to the floor around a sealed Dark Eco vent and then, upon landing, levered themselves up from the sandstone covered floor deep within the Temple.

The elder Acheron took a deep breath to steady himself, and was surprised to find that he could breathe clearly. Maia merely stayed where she was, staring at her hands braced against the stone, unable to believe that she was seeing the natural tone of her skin; a healthy rose-tinted ivory had replaced of the deep slate blue and deep navy she had come to recognize as her colors. How…?

Another—much smaller—form moved, a little ways away from the vent, and Kisan opened her eyes slowly as well. Then she sat up, blinking in confusion as she realized that she could see through both eyes. She looked at her parents, the elder Acherons, and then down at herself in complete bewilderment.


Within the city of Haven, former Baron Praxis opened his eyes and sat up with a groan. A quick glance around confirmed that, yes, he was lying in an alley like last week's garbage. He slowly got to his feet, and took a longer look around. Something seemed… different.

Not too far away, in the catacomb district of the same city, Damas, former King of Spargus—and Haven, before that—also looked around him in confusion. His deep violet eyes scanned the area around him as he tried to match it up with his last memory of what had been happening. Where was Jak?

On an ordinary street in the as-of-yet unrepaired slum district, a green-haired young man in red armor—Koe Hessian in name, corporal in rank—simply…woke up. With absolutely no idea where he was.

At the Power station, things were a little more…flashy in nature. Not that anyone could see, the place was almost solely left to the digital remnants of Vin these days. A surge of eco flooded the system, shorting it out for a long moment. Panels sparked and then, in an instant, all light went out, generators stopped humming, Blue Eco channels went dead. Then Vin groaned and pushed himself up from the floor as the system came back online. He raised a hand to his aching head and—froze in place. Hand… to head…?

Eyes wide behind his goggles, he looked down and discovered why he felt so terribly heavy. He had a body again. He gave a yelp—of excitement or fear, not even Vin could tell—and he scrambled to his feet.


All over the cities of Haven and Spargus, the Precursors' wave was doing its work.

And no one had a clue as to what was going on. The Freedom League Headquarters was being besieged with calls. Ashelin and Torn, along with several others, were trying to field them all, as well as figure out what the hell was happening. There was one person who might know, and Ashelin immediately sent out a call to her comm.

Half a world away, Jak and Daxter received an urgent call from Sig. Jak was unable to answer, knocked unconscious by the sheer power of the energy that had flowed over the land, leaving Daxter to answer the comm and fumble out a reply to whatever it was Sig wanted to know.

All the Light Eco users on the planet had been rendered insensible by the concussion of the eco blast. Seem and her monks in the Temple, Jak out in the Wasteland, an elf by the name of Rheanon Llast out in Haven Forest, a blind potter called Aelyn Adalla in Haven City's Bazaar, the blind Seer, Onin, not far from that same pottery shop…


Up on the Precursor Mothership, the Green Sun that watched over Mar's world, Elder Rewaf carefully monitored the re-emergence of the once-dead elves, nodding in satisfaction.

"And now it's done," he breathed, giving a faint smile. "Well done, Granddaughter."