Yes, my faithful fans and fellow Myst lovers, it's here – Locusani is here. I am SO excited to be sharing this with all of you right now that it's all I can do to not just sporadically post the entire story!

This story has really been a learning process for me, and it wasn't easy to write in any sense. As a good friend of mine told me once, writing insanity isn't easy, and neither is writing in first person. If what she says is true, then writing insanity in the first person is nuts – and it was at points. While writing this fanfic, I found myself looking deep inside myself for the crazy, feverish part of me that society has forced into hiding. Sometimes, my handwriting became sloppy as I wrote the less sane parts of Saavedro's predicament. I sometimes even sunk into the character myself, in the privacy of my own mind, or tried to get in character and act out what I thought Saavedro would do in X situation.

The meaning of the title is hidden in the lyrics of the Myst III: Exile main theme, specifically in the last verse. Translated, the lyrics roughly mean:

Tohmahna! Edanna! Amateria, Voltaic, Narayan!

J'nanin, breeding ground of lost souls…

Of course, the Narani lyrics are far more flowing and actually sort of rhyme. Locusani, the Narani word for 'lost souls', is very fitting in many ways for Saavedro, this story, and the history of Narayan as well. (Oh, look, I can see all the members of the Narayani Collective nodding as they read this.)

Please note that I don't own Saavedro, Narayan, Myst, or anything to do with the following three topics – they all belong to Cyan Worlds and the now defunct Presto Studios.

Well, that's all I have left to say, I guess – so, let's get this story rolling, shall we?


The last thing that he remembered was the darkness. The shadows, crushing and rank with the stench of decay and despair. They were everywhere, surrounding him like an army of misery.

And the fear.

There was such a powerful aura of it here, a curtain of sickly panic that enveloped him and threatened to swallow him whole.

And then he was running…

… But from what? There was nothing here, nothing to escape, nothing to avoid – not that he could see much in the pitch darkness.

Yet his legs wouldn't stop, no matter what he tried. He had to run, had to escape, had to, had to…

Flames suddenly sparked up from nowhere, roaring to life in front of him, and from out of the hellish scene sprung two shadows, one with eyes that glinted like malicious rubies, and the other with eyes that glowered at him like unfeeling sapphires. The shadows reached for him, sable claws outstretched, but their prey was far too quick and was off and running yet again…

He ran and ran until his legs could take no more, then collapsed upon the ground. He could feel those eyes bore into his soul like embers, feel the demons' hot breath on the back of his neck…

He felt so weak, and even when he finally struggled to his feet, he barely managed it. Suddenly, a violent tremor shook the ground. The scorched dirt cracked and fell away in many places, leaving him and the demons trapped on a pillar of stone in the middle of disaster.

Step by nerve-wracking step, the demons approached. He stumbled over his own two feet, trying to escape, panic eating at him, until…

Nothing.

He fell back into the smoky abyss, tumbling down, down as the demons' cruel laughter echoed around him and faded.

This has happened before, he thought. I know it. I've fallen like this before…

And then the world ended.