Aag tapped into his dwindling longevity. He flexed the muscles in his forearms and hands, causing them to shiver. As Aag excited the cells in his muscles even further, they were sent into overdrive. He funneled every ounce of energy into the palm of his hand. He concentrated it, compressed it tightly, and held it in momentarily. Finally, he unleashed his burst.

The dark tunnel was flooded with the hottest yellow flames he could muster. Mercury-thick sweat dripped from his forehead onto the ground, and Aag grunted with the effort, but he kept pushing, squeezing out all the destructive power he had created at the expense of his lifespan.

He looked inward. His whole body was wrecked and spent. That had been the last yellow burst left in him. He only had enough longevity left for four red bursts. But what was the point? What could red bursts do if yellow ones only slowed down the monster? He turned, limping away from the scorched scar that he had violently painted in the tunnels.

With so little longevity left, every move was precious. He summoned the mental image of a longevity chess board and simulated all the moves and countermoves available to him, while limping away from the gate that led into the Harrows. One of the truths he had learned as a child resounded in his mind, “Better to burst once true than twice blindly.”

Aag tapped into his longevity again. This time, instead of producing heat, he directed the energy from the burst to his brain and eyes. His irises were riddled with electricity, and the strain on his brain caused a sharp pain in his temples. He forced his eyes to stay open and waited. Silence. There was nothing on the spectrum.

He wanted to avoid using more burst energy for this, but he had no choice. He couldn’t make a move unless he knew where that thing was. This time, he directed the power of his burnt lifespan to his skin. He guided it gently into a steadier, lower output. As the skin charged with energy, the alien metal woven into it began glowing, casting a feverish red light on the dark tunnels—still nothing.

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After a few patient seconds, Aag released his hold on the energy and let it flow freely to his skin. From a gentle glow, his body transformed into a red ball of fire. He finally found the void absorbed by the monster. It was closing in at 9 o’clock. Aag channeled his burst’s energy into his muscles and held it there. They grew hotter and expanded. Feeling the added strength in his legs, he sprinted in the opposite direction.

He could feel the Raptor close behind him. Aag heard a little voice inside his heart begging him to do everything he could to survive, but he ignored it. He would live up to his responsibilities as a yellow. Although the Raptor deprived him of choosing how long he would live, Aag could still decide how to die. Aag kept running until he reached the tribe’s Lighthouse. He opened the heavy metal doors with his inflated muscles, shut them behind him, and engaged the magnetic locks.

His muscles deflated as soon as he had sealed what would become his tomb, and he fought to keep his senses. While he was bursting, his body felt so light, but now he felt sluggish and ached all over.

As he caught his breath, the Lighthouse shook. Successive dents deformed the gates. With each blow to the door, the hinges gave, but it would hold long enough if he hurried.

Aag limped up the stairs, in sync with the successive beat of the Raptor ramming the door. With each step he climbed, he saw a different face. He saw the face of the blue king, who had been snuffed out before he could fight for the tribe. He heard the battle screams of his fellow yellows, fighting to protect the children. His stomach turned into a tight knot as he thought about each of his friends, whose remains now littered the tunnels of the Harrows. He would join them soon.

Aag finally made it to the top of the tower. He spotted the transparent globe and ran into it. Thank goodness he had reached the Beacon in time. He could still warn the other settlements. He grabbed the two parallel bars that crossed the machine from top to bottom.

A distant explosion rattled the tower. It was coming. He clasped the bars tightly, and, closing his eyes, he burst for the last time. The top of the Lighthouse erupted into light. The energy pulsed and flickered, coding the urgent message while the Beacon amplified it. “The Raptor comes. Grows stronger. Anaximanders smoked. Gather...”

The Lighthouse was silent.

The Beacon shone and transmitted the signal to the orbit of planet Ignis. Hitting repeater after repeater, it broadcasted the promise of doom.