AGNES ANN CAVANAUGH— COCKROACH
An ominous, persistent schhhlep thump, schhhlep thump rang between the stone walls of Sharir’s fortress and piqued my fight-or-flight instinct. Stumpy’s uneven, hind-legged gait neared as his demon-doggy snout panted and sniffed the stale air. Drat it all. He must have noticed the armful of jellied fat missing from the giant table. He’d catch me red-handed. For the umpteenth time, I wondered what sick twist of fate laid the future of the universe on the shoulders of a skinny, scarred, teenage girl from a planet that banned magic. I grew up in Melrose, Massachusetts, for cripe’s sake. How was I supposed to survive on a demon prison planet?
Crap. This wasn’t the time to ponder my derailed destiny. Time to run.
The bits of fur I’d wrapped around my mesh armor boots muffled most of the sound of my running on the dark stone, but the sound didn’t matter. Stumpy hunted with his insane sense of smell.
Safety lay just around the corner beneath a rusty drain grate set in the center of the stone floor of the fortress’s mess hall. At least, it might be a mess hall. Maybe it was just a huge slaughterhouse. Either way, it had tables as tall as motor homes, a solid butcher’s block the size of a bus, fireplaces, and enormous iron kettles.
Twenty-seven days ago, the overlord of demons and all-around jerkface Sharir brought me to this space purgatory called the Nia Nega Abyss and robbed me of my truth magic. I escaped through a crack in his floor. Hiding like a roach inside the hollow stone walls, I cried for my family, my friends, my awesome boyfriend, Temnon, and my magic. With crusty tears dried on my face, I had curled up into a ball, expecting to die from sheer sadness. But, contrary to the plotlines of cheesy romance novels, sadness isn’t fatal.
Starvation is, though.
Twenty-five days ago, my stomach overrode my emotions, and hunger drove me to the mess hall grate. That’s where I discovered jellied fat. The fat and bone marrow from the boiled demon cattle carcasses congealed into a gritty slab of oily gelatin. They tasted nasty, like weak bone broth, but they never spoiled, and they kept me from starving. That’s when I met Stumpy. I didn’t know if he was the cook or a pet, but he started sniffing around for me when I stole my first slab of jellied fat.
We shared a lovely game of cat and mouse every few days. I snuck out to steal the fat, and he charged at me and smashed his wrinkled snout into the grate bars just as I escaped behind them. Really, it wasn’t much of a challenge. Stumpy had the intelligence of a beagle.
He caught my scent faster than usual today. Now I had to get into that floor grate before Stumpy caught me. I darted along the solid butcher’s block, but the dirty white fur of Stumpy flashed in my peripheral vision.
His sniffing snout swung in my direction and led his burning red eyes to me. Fan-freaking-tastic.
He hunched his furry back over his scaled stomach and ran at me on all fours. His lame back leg didn’t slow him a bit. I ran full speed to the corner of the butcher’s block, the jellied fat slab jiggling between my arms. Stumpy closed in as I darted around the corner and saw a tree trunk covering my escape grate. Here in Sharir’s fortress, it was only a log for the kitchen fires, but most demon species were huge, so the radius of the tree trunk was taller than me. I dropped my jellied sustenance.
Horrified, I ran to the log and tried to squidge beneath it into the grate. Stumpy stopped and slurped up my fallen lunch. His rough, black lips stretched over yellowed fangs into a triumphant smile.
“Did you do this?” I asked. “I mean, on purpose?”
Stumpy didn’t speak, but he huffed repeatedly, almost like laughing.
“You did do it on purpose. You conniving mongrel. Smarter than a beagle, I guess.”
His smile widened into a superior grin, and he charged at me.
Freaking heck. My breaths came faster as I looked for a place to hide. If Lumi or Grimmal were here, Stumpy would be sciftan chow.
“I miss you, sweet Lumi,” I cried to myself.
There was nowhere to hide. I had to rely on Plan B. The hallways twisted like a maze down here in the lower levels. Stumpy ran much faster than me, but he skidded out of control on turns. Naturally, I took every turn I happened upon.
Fueled by adrenaline, I sprinted under the heavy tables to the hallway. I darted around corners, searching for another grate. There were lots down here. Sharir preferred his massive storm cloud form, and he flooded the lower levels with rainwater every time he lost his temper. He wasn’t the most emotionally stable of genies, so his fortress had a comprehensive drainage system.
I rounded a corner into a long, straight hallway and heard Stumpy slide and crash into the wall with the momentum of a freight train. Uh oh. No turns here. I doubled my efforts and raced down the broad stone hallway. Maybe getting chewed up motivated me because I ran faster than I thought possible. The giant tapestries lining the walls blurred as I sped by. Running at all was a miracle for a burn victim with chronic nerve pain like me, but the strength I’d gained fighting the constant battles on Fourth Earth was outstanding.
I knew of a grate at the end of the straight hall and to the right, but Stumpy’s claws clacked on the stone floor right behind me. When I smelled his breath on my neck, I knew I’d never make it to the next right turn. I jumped to the side just as his teeth clamped together. His running front paw slapped me across the hall and into a hanging tapestry. To my surprise, I didn’t slam into a wall behind it. I pushed the huge woven curtain into a smaller hallway I didn’t know existed.
I wasn’t hurt. My mesh armor protected me. Outside the hidden hallway, Stumpy’s claws screeched on the stone as he slid into a U-turn. He hadn’t given up on the chase. I ran down the secret hall. There were no grates ahead of me. And to make matters worse, I sprinted toward a thick, wooden door barred with a metal cross brace. A tearing sound spurred a glance over my shoulder. Stumpy chomped his fangs into the heavy tapestry and ripped it to pieces. He charged, his white fur brushing both walls of the smaller hall. He must have seen the dead end. His panting sounded happy.
Maybe today, the hollow pit of empty magic inside my chest would cease its torment. Maybe today, the loneliness for my mom, Sadie, Dr. Buchanan, and Ms. Chippy would end. My heart could stop pining for Lumi, Grimmal, and my royal second family, the Odonatas of First Earth. No more nightmares of my awesome boyfriend, Prince Temnon, screaming in horror and reaching for me as Sharir carried me into that evil vortex of tainted magic. No more memories of Sharir murdering Temnon’s parents on the beach of Fourth Earth or wondering if their deaths broke Temnon entirely.
Stumpy would make it quick, I was sure. He would forever have the honor of slaying Arch Mage Agnes Ann Cavanaugh, the only wizard born on Second Earth since the ban on magic thousands of years ago, the Angel of the Jent Paths, and the one fore-destined to save the universe from the Master of Demonkind, Sharir the Endless.
Or maybe Stumpy would eat a pesky jellied fat thief. That probably meant more to him.
At the hall’s end, I slammed into the barn-sized door and turned around. Foaming drool sprayed from Stumpy’s grinning fangs, and he charged at me with the confidence of a certain victory.
My eyes closed, and I waited for the impact. I heard Stumpy’s thick claws leap off the stone floor and instinct took control of my body. I ducked and dove to the left.
Months of battles on Fourth Earth honed my survival skills and saved my life.
Unable to stop in midair, Stumpy crashed into the wooden door, smashing it to pieces and bending the crossbar.
Powerful magic hit me like a shockwave, and my short, white hair stood straight up. That room broiled with spells, including one that rattled my bones with a telepathic alarm. In a few seconds, Sharir’s security team would flood this hidden hall. They always showed up the instant they felt a molecule out of place. My first day here I sensed them. Teeming with magic, they spread through the fortress to find me. I had no magic for them to sense, which kept me hidden. I stayed inside the walls and listened as they marched over my head.
I’d avoided them ever since, but there was no place to hide in this secret hallway.
I considered my options. Since Sharir stole my truth, I no longer saw magic. I didn’t know what spells waited beyond the smashed door. Danger filled that room, but staying here was suicide. As much as I hated the idea of entering that room, it was my only choice.
I eased my head around the cracked door. The room behind it was loads bigger than the normal giant-sized rooms in the fortress. More of a mountainous cavern than a room. Stumpy didn’t land gracefully after crashing through the door. He careened on his damaged leg toward a deep, black pit of nothingness.
Maybe he’d fall to his death—freeing me to steal all the jellied fat I needed.
But no, at the last second, he flopped to the side and rolled along a ledge of stone surrounding the pit. The air pulsed, and Stumpy shrank to the size of a rat.
A magical trap. I felt the energy. As soon as Stumpy passed through the field, the space between his atoms contracted. A lot. He skidded to a stop on the rough stone and shook his head, disoriented. His jaws were too tiny to eat me now, but I didn’t relax. There were far scarier demons coming. I had to hide. Right now.
Behind the door, in a dark alcove to my right, a rounded item broke the consistency of the cave-like wall. I tiptoed to it, feeling for the buzz of magic with each step. It appeared to be a metal shell. Only shaped like a pill bug, short and domed. Thick, cone-shaped spikes spread across the surface, and it was hollow inside. Perfect.
Deep voices shouted from the hall. I dove to my belly and burrowed into the narrow gap beneath the spiked dome. It stunk of death, but smelling dead was better than being dead.
I pulled in my feet just as I felt and heard someone blast away what remained of the broken door. Curled in the fetal position, I barely fit inside the dome.
“Who is it?” a male voice said. “Report.”
What the cuss? I understood them.
My heart leaped inside my chest. Glory of glories, they spoke Ademic. That meant when Sharir’s spell sucked the magic from my chest, it didn’t affect the gift the Dragon of Knowledge, Dominath, downloaded into my mind. Ademic helped me communicate with people who spoke foreign languages. It was the original language, with a magic of its own. All languages translated into Ademic—at least all languages except dragon speech. And, of course, demon tongue.
So, who were they? Humans? Next to my face, a thin, leathery membrane stretched over an opening in the rounded end of the metal dome. With a slight tug, it tore enough for me to see the speakers.
There were three of them—soldiers I’d seen patrolling the halls. Other than their lavender skin, whip-like tails, and pointed ears, they looked human. At least as close to human as possible, in a world crawling with demons. I avoided them because they carried serious magic. The hum of their power filled the room and warmed the metal shell. They were tall, but human tall, not monster tall. The shortest stood about seven feet, not even close to the size of the typical demon. A cloth covered the left side of their faces.
“Report,” said the tallest of them.
“Mm mm.” The mid-sized soldier responded to the order and approached the shrinking spell. His armor, fashioned from overlapping black-and-silver scales, rasped with each step.
“Fang Boron, it’s the grunt from the butchery,” he said.
I guessed Fang Boron was in charge.
“The lame callis?” Fang Boron clarified.
My Ademic translated the word as Stumpy’s species. Itty-bitty Stumpy jumped to his feet and ran toward them. Mid-sized soldier hissed and held up a hand, which stopped Stumpy in his tracks.
“Stay where you are, callis,” said the soldier. “Pass through the spell again and you’ll shrink to nothing.”
Stumpy halted and sat down. He understood Ademic? I wished I’d known that sooner. I’d have used more sophisticated insults.
Fang Boron pulled a thick, leather covering from the tip of his spear then lifted the cloth covering his face.
From my angle, I couldn’t see what his face looked like under the cloth, but a neon-orange glow lit the sharpened spear tip. With a steady hand, he pushed the spear toward Stumpy.
The lack of magic hit me clearly. The shrinking spell went poof and only regular air remained. What just happened? Did he just nullify that huge spell? Fang Boron didn’t stop. He extended the spear until it touched Stumpy on the nose.
Stumpy ballooned to normal size, and his increased girth pushed him closer to the pit’s edge. His fearful whine echoed in the looming pit. With extreme caution, he picked his way across the ledge to safety. Then Fang Boron pulled the spear back and the shrinking spell hummed again.
Wild. The spear was like kinking a garden hose. When placed in the sphere of magic, it nullified the spell. When removed, the spell reengaged.
Cringing and clasping his front claws together, Stumpy shuffled on his hind legs over to the shortest soldier. Huh. Maybe Fang Boron wasn’t the guy in charge.
“Why did you enter the master’s laboratory?” Her voice had the lighter, higher tone of a female but still held stern authority.
Head hanging low, Stumpy huffed and growled in throaty demon tongue. The three soldiers snapped to attention and held out their spears.
“Chasing a human?” confirmed Fang Boron. “You saw the escaped wizard?” He lowered his face cloth and turned to the female. “Head Hanin, could she still be here?”
Shoulders bunched from gripping the spear, Head Hanin glared at Stumpy. “Callis, where is the wizard?”
Stumpy limped to the blasted door. He swiped pieces of wood from the ground and smelled them.
Crap. I forgot about Stumpy’s nose. He’d smell me out for sure. If I tried to wiggle out of the shell and run, those soldiers would shish kebab me. I had no escape. I pushed the torn membrane of my spiky shell back into place and held my breath. Stumpy schhhlep thumped across the floor but stopped a good fifteen feet away.
I heard his nose snuffling and blowing out with distaste. He sneezed repeatedly and refused to come any closer.
“What’s that against the wall?” a male spoke. I couldn’t tell which.
“Spears out and eyes open,” commanded the female.
“Yes, Head Hanin,” the males answered in unison.
Yup. She was in charge.
After a few creeping footsteps, I heard her again, only muffled this time. “Butoford carcass. A baby. Looks rotted.”
Her footsteps closed in on me. Forget Stumpy. I now faced a death much worse than being quickly swallowed. These soldiers would take me straight to Sharir. If I tolerated the smell, professional soldiers like these wouldn’t hesitate to drag me out. My throat clenched and suddenly I couldn’t breathe.
“Smells horrid,” said a male. He sounded like he pinched his nose closed. “Is the human inside it?”
The footsteps stopped a few feet away. “If she is, she’ll rot next. Butoford toxin kills in seconds. Even a single drop.” The female’s feet retreated. “No one is foolish enough to hide in a butoford shell.”
Toxin? Great. Peachy. Lucky me. I just crawled into a venom bomb. I squeezed my hand up to where I could see it. A thin layer of clear, viscous slime coated my fingers, but my skin remained intact. I bent and flexed my fingers; the slime didn’t affect my muscles. I felt my pulse at my neck; my heartbeat was strong and consistent. My breathing wasn’t impaired. If this stuff was toxic, it took a longer than a few seconds to kill. How long did I have?
The female spoke again. “The drained wizard would have felt the master’s power protecting his research and turned the other way. She must have hidden herself under the torn tapestry and escaped after we entered the hall.”
“Mm mm,” the others grunted in agreement.
A deeper male voice spoke. The tall one, I guessed. “As for you, callis. You must answer to the master for failing to capture the wizard and for trespassing here.”
A whining howl of terror sang out, followed by running claws, a commanding shout in demon tongue, and a yelp of pain. Stumpy probably ran for it and got poked in the behind with a spear. The sound of voices, rasping armor, and clicking claws vanished down the hidden hall.
After a few moments of silence, I peeled back the torn membrane to make sure all three soldiers and Stumpy were gone. The air quivered with invisible magic, but no living creatures remained.
Getting out of the shell was harder than getting in. Good thing my gray mesh military armor was so flexible. I kicked both legs and hula danced my hips to inch backward. Once free, I wiped the butoford toxin on the cave wall. No reason to leave a poisonous substance on my skin longer than necessary. A quick scrub with dirt from the cavern floor removed what remained. I felt my right cheek for any more traces of the goo. I didn’t need butoford toxin making my burn scars worse.
Alone in the cavernous space, a prick of curiosity nudged me. Tall soldier dude said Sharir did research here, so what exactly was in that pit? And did I have time for a peek?
Long boot prints on the dusty stone ridge marked where the soldiers had stood. I should be safe from magical traps if I stood in the same spot. I moved slowly, feeling for magic, just in case, and avoided the invisible wall that shrunk Stumpy.
No good. I wasn’t close enough to see into the pit. I needed another two feet of height. The butoford shell was about the right height. I scampered to the shell and dragged it over while listening for any approaching footsteps.
The shell’s back was round, but the tummy side lay flat. It took a bit of balancing, but I stepped up between the spikes. On my tiptoes, I could see just over the edge of the pit.
Several large balls hung suspended inside the pit. I didn’t know if they were stone or metal. They seemed solid, but strange, moving lights glowed inside some, while others remained dark. Hundreds of chains hung from the cavern’s ceiling. If each chain held a sphere, there must have been more spheres hanging deeper in the pit.
Weirdest laboratory I’d ever seen.
The alarm still rattled in my bones. I dragged the shell back to where I found it and rubbed out the trail it left in the dust. I crept to the shattered door and listened—no marching feet, and no hum of magic power. I slipped past the doorway and down the hidden hall. I didn’t dare go back to the butchery for more jellied fat, so with a prancing gait halfway between a tiptoe and a sprint, I hurried to the grate down the hall to the right and slipped between the thick, metal bars.
Using the narrow space between the walls to get around the fortress was slow and often dangerous. I crawled, and sometimes slithered, past the blocked butchery drain and beneath the feet of the searching demons.
A sharp crack of thunder echoed through the walls. Great. The lavender security team probably told Sharir I’d been spotted and escaped. He wouldn’t be happy. I knew what was coming next—an indoor rainstorm.
“Drat it all, Sharir.” I pulled my knees under me and crawled faster. “Get some counseling, for pity’s sake. Anger management changes lives, you know.”
A strange sound filtered down through the stone. I’d never heard it before. Almost like the high-pitched whine of a jet engine starting up. I stopped, wondering what I’d crawled under.
With an explosion and a flash of bright-green light, a hole suddenly appeared inches from my face. I instinctively scurried backward. Not just one hole, a series of holes. Whatever made that high-pitched whine blasted a small tunnel through several floors of the fortress.
Holy heck. Did the soldiers have missiles?
Lavender fingers clad in a silver-and-black scaled bracer reached into the hole and patted around, probably feeling for my corpse. I didn’t dare move. With the hole right there, they’d hear me for certain. But if I didn’t move, they’d feel me and yank me from the hole.
Frozen by fear and certain I’d be caught, a blast of air hit me, pushed by the water behind it. Unwilling to drown, I yanked my helmet on. Sharir lost his temper all the time. I knew what to expect. The soldier heard me and reached for me.
I held my breath out of instinct as a swell of water hit me. This was going to be a bad one. The strong current coursed through the hole caused by the soldier and pushed the searching hand away. Ooo, Sharir would be so mad to know his temper actually saved me from being discovered. Even more water caught me and washed me through the walls. I crashed into every bend and fell down levels until the water dumped me into a collection bin, swirled me in a whirlpool, and hurled me toward a large grate. Outside the grate, I glimpsed an enormous drop. I threw my limbs out, spread-eagle, and slammed against the bars. I hauled myself over and wrapped my arms and legs around the closest bar.
I was one of the few human beings who knew how it felt to be flushed down a toilet.
Plastered against the grate by the force of the water, I had nowhere to look but at the grim scenery. Nothing had changed from the last time I washed down here. Outside the grate, in muted colors, lay the Nia Nega Abyss landscape. In front of me, black, jagged mountains pierced the horizon like crocodile teeth. To the right, a huge stretch of barren, white land lay. I thought maybe it was salt flats or an alkali desert. To the left was the smell. Every once in a while, the putrid odor of rot reached the fortress. Some kind of swamp, I figured. And covering it all? An atmosphere lit by millions of magical, dull, amber light sources. This manufactured planet had no sun. It looked like a black-and-white photograph soaked in weak tea.
Not one of my bucket list destinations. But I was stuck looking at the depressing view for a while.
How much air did I have left in my helmet? The spell on my armor providing me with oxygen had long since worn out. I lifted the helmet from my head and found a pocket of air near the bar. I inhaled, slow and steady. There I stayed, pinned against the metal grate, while Sharir had a twenty-minute meltdown. When my arms ached from clinging to the bar, I heard a yelping scream over the roar of water. Through the spray, I saw a demon with dirty, white fur falling outside.
“Stumpy?” I gasped, inhaling water spray and coughing.
Poor Stumpy’s four legs thrashed in terror. Did someone throw him out a window? Sure, he wanted to eat me, blocked my escape route, and slurped up my stolen jellied fat, but a pang of pity swelled my chest. Tossing the callis out a window was animal cruelty—almost equal to kicking a puppy.
Stumpy’s squeal descended as he fell. The fortress and the mountain it sat on were so tall, it took forever for the poor thing to hit the ground. Far, far below me, the scream finally ceased. I hoped he died instantly and didn’t suffer.
“Jerkface.” Not that Sharir could hear me.
None of the soldiers followed Stumpy’s trajectory. Lucky for them, I guessed.
By the time the water level dropped, my poor arms and legs were as stiff as the metal bar they embraced, and my jaw felt like someone pounded it with a sledgehammer. I slid down the bar as the draining water receded and sprawled on my back on the uneven ground. My armor and helmet remained unscathed, even if I didn’t.
“Stupid idiot, jerkface,” I said.
Legs shivering from the strain and the cold water, I limped over to a rough-cut rock by the grate. Righteous outrage heated my insides. Big, bonehead genie, beating up a helpless callis.
And that was only a fraction of his sins. The misogynistic chauvinist tried to force Kinza, my jiniri friend, to marry him. Kinza nearly let herself fade away and die rather than give in to him. After all, he killed her father and all the other genies. Thank goodness Kinza fell in love with the siren prince, Rein. Their union fulfilled one of the Seer’s prophecies and replenished the magic of Fourth Earth.
And speaking of Kinza’s old friend, the Seer, Sharir reduced her to a living corpse and used her to throw me off my destined path. I somehow fulfilled three of the four tasks defined by my prophecy, but I had no idea how to fulfill the last task. Even Dame Maudine, Temnon’s great-grandmother, who studied the prophecy for hundreds of years, didn’t know what the symbolism meant. Not that she could tell anyone if she figured it out. She was among Sharir’s latest victims.
“This is freaking impossible,” I said to myself. “How can anyone make the prophecy happen? The universe is doomed.”
With my head in my hands, tears fell for the millionth time in the last twenty-seven days. Through the blurry tears, I noticed a patch of light flashing on the ground.
A patch of light? Could it possibly be…
“My magic,” I whispered.
I bolted upright. The flash disappeared.
“Not magic. You’re seeing things, Agnes.”
As I sat down again, the patch of light returned, swaying gently on the smooth stone. I held out a hand, and the light, brighter and more focused, shone on my fingers, a reflection of actual light. From my seated position, a pillar holding up a magical light source shone between the bars of the grate and reflected off the tiny diamond of my necklace.
I unlatched the delicate chain and set the platinum infinity pendant in my palm. It was a gift from my dad. He bought it the day I was born. Long before genies, dragon radicals, and psycho illusionists, he was there for me. He protected me from the explosion that left the right side of my face and neck scarred and my legs in constant pain. He didn’t make it.
Sharir bragged about cutting off this prison planet, even from the spirit world. No one was going to save me. Not King Odric, not Temnon, and not my dad.
“Oh, Dad—” I choked. “I blew it. I got captured. I didn’t fulfill the prophecy. Sharir is going to win.” A wave of loneliness drowned me. One far stronger than the flood that battered my chest. “Dad, what do I do now?”
Somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, a memory of my dad surfaced. Temnon’s cousin and my sweet friend, Nemantia, once used her necromancy magic to take me to the spirit world. I saw my dad’s spirit behind the gate, and he told me he was proud of me. His face, shining with glory, smiled at me with perfect love. He asked me about my greatest accomplishment. I mentioned a few, but he disagreed.
He told me, “Your greatest accomplishment happens every day—when you wake up in the morning and keep trying. It’s not about winning or perfection. It’s about trying, every day, to be a little bit better.”
My pendant sparkled in my hand, and I argued with Dad’s memory, out of sheer loneliness.
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” I said to the pendant. “I’ve lost. How can I do anything with those demon warriors blasting holes through walls?”
The memory of Dad’s voice resonated in my mind. “It’s not about winning.”
“I know it’s not about winning, Dad. Okay? I can’t win when I’ve already lost.”
“It’s about trying—every day. Every day, sunshine, even when it’s hard. Try, Agnes. And then, keep trying. Remember what I wrote to you when mom gave you this necklace? No matter where you go or what you do, I will love you for infinity. You aren’t alone.”
The words echoed in my head. Could it be true? That I wasn’t entirely alone? I sat on the rock and pondered what had just happened in my head. Before Sharir drained my light, I had little conversations with my magic. I knew I talked to myself because my magic was a part of me. Now I just had a similar conversation with the memory of my dad.
He was right. Or rather, I was right. I wasn’t alone, just separated from the people who loved me. I knew they were still fighting—to save me and defeat Sharir. Temnon would come for me. I knew it. And when he got here, maybe I could hand him Sharir’s greatest weakness. His chink in the armor. His Achille’s heel. If Temnon and King Odric were working hard on their end, it was only fair that I should put in the same effort.
I clutched the pendant in my hand. “Message received, Dad,” I said. “I’m going to do more than just survive. I’m going to try.”
I didn’t speak the rest out loud, but the words shivered through my whole body.
And if necessary, I’ll die trying.
