Harold's eyes snapped open. Brilliant rays of sunlight poured down from a clear, sapphire sky, illuminating the landscape around him. He lay in place for a few seconds, eyes staring fixedly at the perfect sky in utter bemusement, then he pushed himself to his feet, spluttering. He was drenched to the bone, his hair plastered to his head, yet the land around him was entirely dry. The stone extended in all directions, like a great rock carpet, unnaturally smooth and dotted here and there with clumps of peculiar-looking flowers and trees.

He was utterly bewildered. If not for the fact that he was soaked, he would have thought he'd been hallucinating. But no. . . .

He really had been in a terrible storm, really had been submerged by an inconceivably large wave. And now . . . he was alone, on an unfamiliar stretch of land, with an unexplained feeling of unseen danger looming over him. The wave that had hit them seemed to have washed him into another part of the country, because he knew there was no island near Helix for miles and miles. It was, quite literally, in the middle of the middle of nowhere.

But then a sudden cough erupted through the sinister silence. Harold whipped around, and found a familiar mane of grizzled black hair rising into the air, glistening in the sunlight, as its owner pushed herself to her feet. "Helen!" he cried, and he rushed over to her side.

The moment he saw her, it all came back to him. The reason why they'd set out in the first place: another possible Gargantuan, and a new island that had randomly surfaced on the map in the vicinity of Helix. Somewhere to their left, Harold saw Ezra, but where Helen was coughing violently, Ezra looked perfectly content where he was, curled up on the floor with his head resting on his arms. Ignoring him, Harold began to shake Helen awake. After nearly a minute's worth of coughing, she plopped herself down on the stone, her arms hugging her sides.

"What happened?" she demanded, looking around wildly. "Where's the ship? Where's everyone else? What happened to the storm?"

"No idea," said Harold. "No idea. And, no idea. I just woke up, I'm as clueless as you are. And I'm assuming so is he." He jerked his head at the still-sleeping Ezra.

Helen stared at him in utter disbelief. "Is he serious?" Harold shrugged, then Helen leapt up and stormed over to Ezra's side and began to kick him furiously awake.

"Ow! Quit it!"

"Get up, you useless lump!"

Harold sighed, then began to look around again for anything that could indicate what had transpired while they were out. The sky was still clear, the land completely devoid of human life. The only thing he could see that seemed amiss was, strangely, the land itself. It was layered with large, octagonal pieces of stone that looked like polished abalone, with large clumps of jewels sprouting up from the ground like crystalline flowers. A small ways away from him was a cluster of amethysts, glittering in the rich sunlight.

Harold got up and moved closer, observing it carefully while Ezra's cries of pain and irritation echoed behind him. He didn't know much — or anything, really — about jewel formation, but he didn't think this occurrence was natural.

"What are you doing?" Helen called from behind.

He turned to see her standing with her arms folded and her face screwed up in anger beside Ezra, who was sitting up at last and who looked equally annoyed.

"Oh, nothing."

He reached down and snapped a piece of the crystal off between his fingers with a satisfying crunch. And then the strangest thing happened. The moment he broke the crystal, a soft tremor rang out underneath his foot, followed by a faint yet unmistakable bellow.

"What was that?" Helen said, looking frightened.

"I . . . don't know. . . . Okay, we need to find the ship and everyone else and get off this island."

"We can't," Helen reminded him, with a look of despair. "We're supposed to investigate this place, remember?"

Harold was about to answer, but the words got lost somewhere on the way to his mouth. He had heard it before he saw it. A raspy, metallic screech, like the bars of a gate being dragged across the ground. Then three huge silhouettes appeared across the skyline, larger than any bird that Harold had ever seen, and they swooped downwards, revealing angry red eyes and cruel, golden beaks.

"Well, since we're going to be investigating, how about we start with the native wildlife?" Harold said, in a voice of mock pleasantness.

"Run!" Helen shrieked, and they darted off.

Ezra stumbled off behind them as they took off, the shadows of the birds swimming on the ground behind them, becoming sharper the closer they drew. Their awful screeches grated against Harold's ears, like literal knives being dragged across stone. Then one of them dived. Harold saw it out of the corner of his eyes as it charged at Ezra, who was completely exposed. Harold dove sideways, catching him around the middle and pushing him to the floor. He leapt up as the bird doubled back and caught it as it pounced, holding its beak in one hand and clutching its feathery body in the other, struggling violently with the creature as it flapped its great wings furiously, trying valiantly to pry its beak free and snap at him, as if it desired nothing more than to rip into him.

Harold slammed it into the ground and swung it around by its legs: it flew from his grasp and slammed into another of its allies and they tumbled out of the air, crashing heavily to the floor. Ezra was back on his feet, launching fireballs haphazardly into the air like loose fireworks. Somehow, Harold wasn't surprised that they all missed.

More birds had appeared, circling around them in a vast swarm. Harold hurried towards Helen, batting away at the creatures as they pelted at her, all the while forcing her behind him for cover. And then something hurtled into Harold's back, pushing him forward. As his face slid over the ground, he felt something long and sharp as a knife drive into his back, and he screamed, a long, piercing scream of sheer agony that echoed across the deserted landscape. The bird was digging its beak deeper and deeper inside his skin: he could feel it grazing organs, bursting through blood vessels. An eternity passed while they lay there — then a burst of sound slammed into his ears.

Sharp and powerful, like an oddly high-pitched foghorn. His head swam the way it did whenever he'd just woken up, and he heard a pitiful squawk from behind him. The beak was withdrawn, and he pushed the lifeless body of the creature from him and rolled into his back.

Rivulets of blood trickled from a gaping wound in his chest, staining his dark uniform scarlet. The bird's beak had pierced through his supernaturally enhanced skin and had broken through all the way to the other side. If the bird had aimed a little higher to the left, he would have been dead.

Harold's vision was fading, but he managed to make out the crumpled, motionless forms of the other birds littering the ground. A patter of feet jolted him back to his senses, and Helen sank down beside him.

"Are you okay?" she said frantically, then she gasped, her hand hovering over the enormous wound.

Harold chuckled weakly, which made him burst out into a violent coughing fit. "Looks like I might have to rethink my position on animal cruelty," he wheezed. His eyelids began to flutter.

"Harold! No, don't close your eyes! Stay with me, okay! Harold! Harold . . . Harold. . . ."

Jimmy couldn't remember anything that happened after the wave had hit. How they had managed to be separated, how they had lost the ship, how they had been thrust into a violent storm and emerged entirely unscathed, was all a mystery to him. But he didn't question it. He was just glad they were all okay — at least, those that he could see anyway.

Kierra and Amber, who was shivering, were seated around a roaring fire they had struck up shortly after they had awoken. Jimmy, on the other hand, had used his own powers to create a powerful gust of wind to dry himself completely. They were settled in a cave, long and narrow, which was lined with huge clusters of crystals that were glowing brilliantly, shining spots of prismatic light on the walls and ceiling. It was quite comfortable inside, with the multicoloured light and the warmth of the fire.

Despite this, Amber was still shivering, though clearly out of fright. Kierra had assured him that she would do all she could to calm her down so that they could set out in search of the remaining members of the squad, but she herself didn't appear to have soothed her nerves any more than her partner had.

Jimmy allowed them several minutes to recover while he surveyed the area beyond the cave's mouth, then when he had determined that the coast was clear he returned to the fireside.

"Are you ready to move yet?" he asked.

"What's the point?" Amber said, her voice shaking. "How are we supposed to find anyone else in this place anyway? The terrain isn't exactly fit for exploration."

"So you propose we do nothing and just spend the rest of our lives in this cave, then?" Jimmy said incredulously.

"You're asking me? I didn't even want to be here!" Amber shouted, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"Enough!" Kierra cut in firmly. "Amber . . . he's right. There's no way to know what else is out there unless we actually look. For all we know, the others could be out there searching for us right now."

"And what if you're wrong? What if something else entirely is waiting for us in those woods? It's not like Earth has the best track record with woodland creatures normally, but what can we expect from a place that isn't even registered on the map?"

"We don't know!" Kierra snapped, finally losing patience. "We don't know why any of this is happening, we don't know where these monsters are coming from, what their purpose is, why that storm suddenly whipped up out of nowhere or why we ended up in completely dry land with all the other team members missing, but there's no way of finding out any of that unless we get off our asses and do something, okay?"

Her chest was heaving by the time she finished, and Amber seemed to shrink in on herself, like a small animal cowering beneath a violent predator. After a few moments she nodded, eyes wide.

"Well, that's that," Jimmy said cheerfully, getting to his feet. "Better we do it now while we still have daylight than to let night catch us on the way. Don't worry, I have some experience with navigating forests."

Amber looked even more worried at that, but both girls rose nonetheless. The rest of their gear had been stacked aboard the ship, which was where they did not know, so they had only their wits and their powers for this mission. They emerged out of the twinkling cave into the brilliant sunlight. Sweeping rows of trees ran on and on around them, shooting skywards like miniature skyscrapers, piercing the deep blue of the sky. Thick, emerald grass carpeted the entire floor, rising to almost knee-height. There was an air of untamable wildness to this place, far more dangerous and sinister than the typical jungle.

Leaves larger than their rucksacks rustled in the heavy wind, and the sounds of birds and insects, all distorted and deeply unpleasant, were issuing from branches unseen. It was obviously not going to be a pleasant journey, but Jimmy's positive attitude did not waver.

"You'll want to avoid any strange-looking trees," he told them cheerfully, as they waded through the sea of grass, "you never know which one is poisonous. You know, we actually encountered something of the sort during a mission last year, called the 'Sandbox Tree.' The trees are covered in spikes, full of poison, and they grow exploding fruit. Like little pumpkins, but when they're fully ripe, they explode with a loud bang" — Kierra and Amber jumped — "and scatter their seeds with explosive force. The seeds are almost as sharp as the spikes, and trust me when I tell you they get everywhere. I couldn't sit down properly for two days. Yep," he said, nodding at Kierra's look of discomfort. "Imagine how I felt, walking around with spikes stuck in my —"

"Okay, we don't need any more details," Kierra said quickly. "You paint a very vivid picture."

"I actually wanted to hear the rest," Amber said unexpectedly, then shrugged when Kierra turned to look at her.

"Anyway," Kierra continued. "I doubt your experiences, as horrifying as they sound, will have much effect now. This clearly isn't your average forest."

"No, but the laws of nature remain the same for the most part," said Jimmy. "A certain hierarchical order in the wilderness, stretching back since ancient times."

"How do you sound so upbeat about this?" she said, looking at him in disbelief. "By all accounts, the most realistic situation to come out of this is that we end up stranded here for the rest of our lives. And you're acting like we're just on a fun family tour!"

"You think I don't recognize the danger? I do. I recognize, and appreciate, the full gravity of this situation. What could be waiting for us deeper inside these woods, the fact that we may never see actual civilization again, that my friends could have been lost in that storm — all of it. But . . ." He exhaled. "At this point, it hurts less to be optimistic, rather than dwell on unhappy could-be's."

After a short, thoughtful pause, Kierra said, "I get that, but still —" And then she screamed. Jimmy spun around at once, expecting to see something swooping down from the air or diving at them from out of a tree. Instead he saw Kierra hopping in place, shrieking wildly, swatting at her own skin. Spiders the size of her hands, thick, dark, and furry, were scuttling up from the grass at her feet, swarming over her body. A split second later, Amber began to dance and howl as they began to course over her too.

And then Jimmy felt the dabbing at his shoes as well. He jumped, propelling himself into the air with his aerokinesis and repelling the spiders with the sudden burst of wind, and hovered aboveground. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled deeply. A thick plume of bluish-white gas erupted from his lips and washed over the two girls, showering them and the insects latched onto them.

They continued to scream, but he could tell the gas was doing its work. He stopped blowing, and saw the frozen bodies of the spiders being flicked onto the ground. Then he swooped back to the earth, gathered the two girls in a wide air current, and pushed them off into the trees. He stirred up another gust as they landed, slowing their descent so that they touched down lightly. The branch that they had landed on was almost as thick as the drop ship itself, but neither of the other two seemed to notice. They collapsed onto the floor, shuddering, their skin pale blue where he had hit them.

He allowed them a few seconds, then he said, "Sorry about that."

Kierra pushed herself up, her hands hugging her sides, her face drawn. "Don't be. We're the ones who should be thanking you."

"It'll pass in a few minutes." Jimmy glanced over the edge of the branches. Down below, a large dark splotch was spreading over the emerald forest floor, like an immense black carpet, widening with every passing second as the spiders swarmed furiously across the forest floor, like an enraged ant nest.

"Looks like we'll have to find another path," he said.

"Why? What are they doing?" said Amber, but almost immediately afterwards she shook her head violently. "No, don't tell me. I don't want to think about it."

"We'll have to go by the branches," Jimmy said, eyeing the maze of huge tree branches spread out before them. "No telling what else could be lying under the grass."

"There's no telling what could be hiding in the treetops either!" Kierra said, looking aghast.

"True, but we can't stay here either. We're too exposed. So take your pick: grass" — he indicated the ever-growing swarm of spiders — "or branches." He gestured in front of them. Kierra looked ahead with despair clouding her face.

"Oh, kill me now," she moaned.

"Branches it is," Jimmy said.

A sharp, stabbing pain jerked Harold out of his sleep with a cry of pain.

"Sorry! Sorry!" a familiar voice yelled close by. Harold's hand flew to his chest as he looked around, panting heavily, his vision clouded. Everything was blurry, but he could manage to make out a pale orange light shining from his left, radiating a comfortable heat. A fire. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head, which made him feel slightly dizzy, but when he opened them, his vision was much clearer.

Harold's eyes met Helen's, who had her hand to her mouth and was looking frightened. Then he looked down. His shirt had been removed, but a large wadding of cloth had been wrapped around his chest, and a dark blood stain had seeped through it.

"What is this? What's going on?"

"You don't remember?"

Harold thought back, but the process made his head swim again and he stopped, shaking his head at her. Helen took a deep breath, as if she was bracing herself while she tried to remember as well.

"We were attacked," she said. "By some oversized crows, it looks like. One of them hit you, and its beak pierced all the way through your back."

Harold's fingers involuntarily clasped around the wound again.

"It was . . . bad. Really bad."

The hitch in her voice told him it was far worse than that.

"How bad?"

"You were burning up, which was strange enough considering you've never gotten a fever in as long as I've known you —"

"Longer." Harold's eyes roved over the floor as he pondered what this all meant. "What else?"

"The wound. It didn't start healing until about an hour later. And even then it was doing it very slowly. I was just about to check it again, but then you woke up."

Again he got the feeling that, as terrible and bewildering as this news was, there was worse to come.

"There's something else, isn't there?" He inhaled, which caused a sharp stabbing sensation in the place where his wound was, as if his lungs were inflating upon a long needle. "Come on. Best to get it all out now."

Helen shook her head slightly, as if silently requesting him not to ask her to repeat the horrors she had witnessed.

"Helen, what —"

"You stopped breathing," she said, tears glittering in her eyes by the firelight.

The blow was again fierce, but he showed no reaction. His body seemed too worn out to even display its own shock.

"How long?" he asked tonelessly.

"Too long," she said, her voice now a brittle whisper. "I was so worried. I didn't think I'd be able to get you back, and w-we still haven't found Jimmy, and K-Kierra and Amber, and Ezra hasn't come back yet —"

It was purely instinctive. He had reached for her without conscious thought, and now her head was resting against the unwounded part of his chest, her hair tickling his chin as she sobbed silently. They remained like that for a short while, and then she voiced the question that Harold had been determinedly avoiding since they'd first awoken on this island:

"What if we don't make it out of here?"

He waited for a few seconds, contemplating a comforting reply. However, nothing occurred to him that could possibly ease her distress. He had never seen her like this, because they had never been in a situation like this. Even in the worst of conditions before, as hopeless as it had seemed, there had always been some measure of control over the mission, an easy way out in case they couldn't progress. But now . . .

"I don't know," Harold said. "I don't. But we have to try, somehow. Who knows, maybe, in the same way that we ended up here perfectly fine, the others could have been saved as well. They could be out there right now, looking for us. In fact, Jimmy's propably leading the charge, telling them some stupid story to try to keep up their morale." Harold found himself smiling as he spoke, and he knew that Helen was doing the same.

Helen nodded and gently disentangled herself, wiping her eyes. "Okay."

Harold nodded as well, then something she said suddenly clicked in his brain. "Wait, did you say Ezra hasn't been back yet?"

"Yeah."

"Where is he?"

"He went out to hunt for some food," said Helen.

"And you let him? After what happened earlier?"

"It was his idea," Helen said. "Frankly, I was as surprised as you are, but he was determined to go and unfortunately I couldn't devote that much time to dissuading him seeing as I had other priorities." She gave him a pointed look and he shrank back.

"Yeah, okay. Point taken."

"And I think he wanted to, anyway. Not just because he wanted to stuff his face, but because . . . Well, I think he wanted to do it, for you."

Harold gaped at her, astonished. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Helen said, rolling her eyes. A sign of annoyance though it was, Harold smiled again at the gesture, because it was a sign that she was calming down. "You are the one who saved his life, aren't you?"

And at that, the recollection swam to the forefront of his mind. He remembered dive-tackling Ezra out of the way of one especially persistent bird's beak, then wrestling with it for a while as it tried to escape.

"I didn't do it because I wanted him in my debt." Harold began to struggle to his feet.

"Hey — what are you doing?" Helen said loudly, hurrying to steady him.

"It's a high possibility that there are more of those birds out there, and maybe even other monsters. I'm not gonna let him get himself killed because he thinks he owes me."

"You're not in any condition to do anything right now," she said sternly.

"Oh, and here I thought I was getting only the best treatment, Nurse Barnham."

"This isn't a joke."

"I know. It's a literal life or death situation. I'll be fine."

She stared at him, anxious, angry. "Okay, fine," she conceded, exasperated. "But promise you'll take it easy."

"Ugh, but easy's so boring. Okay, okay," he added as she glowered at him. "I'll take it easy."

As uneasy as she looked, she helped him prepare to move, then after extinguishing the fire, they set off, Helen supporting him. It was only now that Harold realized where they were. They had settled down amid a cluster of huge, jagged, silver rocks, and now an immense forest spread out around them, with roots as thick as oak trunks burrowing beneath the ground, sprouting up in new rows ahead of them. "Wow, a forest again," he said dispassionately.

"Thinking about your old friend Gregor, are you?" Helen mused.

"Haha. . . . Wait, I just realized something," he added, in a thoughtful tone.

"What do you mean?"

"That night, Gregor was the Gargantuan we were sent to apprehend, right?" Helen nodded. "But Gregor wasn't the only mutated animal in that forest."

"You mean the hornets?"

"Yes. Just like now, there was a main Gargantuan — being Gregor — but several other, smaller animals that were obviously changed by whatever changed the main animals too."

"So, what, you think whatever's causing the mutations isn't affecting them as much as it did Mira or Gregor? Like they weren't exposed long enough?"

"Or maybe in different concentrations?" Harold suggested.

Their thoughts were interrupted by a sudden rustling noise that instantly put them on alert. It grew steadily louder while the mysterious individual drew nearer, then, to their enormous relief, Ezra came crashing through the overgrowth, drenched in sweat and out of breath.

"Ah, you're not dead," said Harold.

"Hey, neither are you!" Ezra said brightly.

"We were just about to come looking for you. Where's the food?" Helen asked.

"Well, about that —"

"Uhh, I knew we couldn't count on you —"

"No no, that's not it. I did find food, but I also found something else on the way. The ship!" Ezra said excitedly.

Helen's demeanour changed at once. "You did? Where?"

Ezra nodded vigorously, beaming. "Straight ahead."

"Well, let's go get it then!"

"Oh, hang on," Ezra said quickly, his face falling. "Like I said, I found it, but . . . you're not gonna like where it is."