Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Rayman, look what the Pirates have done to our world.”

That voice cut through the miasma. As he heard it, dark forms took shape before him. He could see stormy seas, patrolled by flying Pirate ships.

“A planet of anguish and pain, haunted by evil.”

It wasn’t always that way, Rayman was certain. He tried to remember those beautiful forests and swamps, but something was off. Propeller bombs filled the air. Crude wooden bases looked over poisoned swamps.

“A dark place, teeming with fierce monsters.”

Once, gentle fish leapt out of those swamps. Ever since the Pirates arrived, their teeth had grown sharp, their scales black with hate. Even the crabs, small and reserved as always, had grown a little more determined to pinch anyone passing them by.

“Nothing can stop them, now that they have captured you.”

And with that unpleasant reminder, everything fell into place. Rayman’s eyes drifted open, to see the cold, cramped cell holding him. The only light came from the laser grid locking him in. Part of him wondered what kept his body and head still floating, when his hands and feet lay lifeless beside him.

“They’ve taken everything, and reduced our people to slaves.”

Slowly, the sounds of cries for help filled his ears once more. He thought he’d managed to tune them out. Chances were after a few hours, they’d fall as silent as he had. What kept them crying?

“The robots search for innocent prey.”

Calling them Pirates was selling their threat short. They were Robo-Pirates, arriving from places nobody knew about. Nobody was prepared for the invasion, and Rayman wasn’t sure if they’d really given their all fighting them off.

“In the chaos, they exploded the Heart of the World.”

Ah yes, that was how they won. The source of all life and energy, destroyed in an instant. How everyone hadn’t just perished the moment it was shattered, Rayman couldn’t say.

“The thousand lums of energy, which form it, have been scattered.”

So there was hope the Heart could be reformed? No, Rayman couldn’t think about that. There was no way anyone could unite all those lums. Not without consequences.

“We are getting weak. Soon, it will be too late.”

Soon? Wasn’t it too late already? Something about that voice cut through Rayman’s despair. He sat up a bit, testing his hands. His fingers flexed a little. Perhaps the Pirates hadn’t captured everybody yet.

“You must escape, Rayman! You are our only hope!”

Rayman tested his feet, trying to stand up once again. It was shaky, but he managed it. He was up. He was alive. And he was still trapped. The voice was beginning to fade from his head, taking that glimmer of hope with her. Where was she going? She sounded familiar to him. A vent watched nearby, covered by an oversized bandage. He tried throwing a punch, but watched helplessly as his left hand fell limp to the floor, before meekly returning to his side.

The voice was gone. Rayman sunk to the ground once again, his eyes growing heavy. Maybe if he had a little more rest, he could think of something.

“Wake up, Rayman. I have sent you help.”

The sounds of stomping feet had become a familiar sensation to the prisoners. It was doubled this time, however. The Robo-Pirates were carrying a prisoner larger than most of them. A large, blue, frog-like lug, who didn’t seem entirely aware of the danger he was in. “Water,” someone croaked as they approached. “Spare us,” another whimpered. A third voice, unaware of the new arrival, just went “O… ooh…” to themselves, unheard by anyone.

The Pirates stopped at Rayman’s cell, about the only one big enough to contain their new slave. The laser grid powered down, as they threw him in like a bouncy ball. He landed on his butt, just as the grid sparked up and sealed him inside with the little, limbless lad lying lifeless by the wall. The prisoner poked him in the air. “Rayman?” he asked.

Wait, Rayman recognised that voice. He looked up, and saw the great, gormless grin of his best friend. “Globox!” he cried, leaping to hug his big, bulbous buddy. “I can’t believe you made it!” He jumped back down, after his friend had stopped wobbling around on his butt. Slowly, his smile gave way to horror. If they’d captured his best friend now, then…

Globox noticed the shift in his mood. “Are you okay, Rayman?” he asked tenderly.

Rayman’s head hung limp, as though it could fall to the floor at any second. “Not really,” he muttered. “I feel weak, and my powers have disappeared.” He couldn’t feel bitter about it anymore, but he still wondered just how his body was holding together. Without bones joining his limbs, whatever energy he had left felt spent keeping him alive. “You know Globox,” he continued, “I think this might be the end.”

“No!” Globox cried, putting his hand on Rayman’s shoulder. “Not the end! Globox bring good gift from Ly!”

Rayman perked up once again. “Ly the Fairy?” Could it be? Was this bit of good news going to stick, and not crumble into crushing despair? Globox let go of his shoulder, and reached deep inside his mouth. Something was glowing from within. After a little reaching, and with surprisingly little gagging, he pulled out a bright, Silver Lum and held it in his palm.

The lum broke apart into smaller lums, which circulated around Rayman, entering his body one by one. “Incredible!” he gasped, feeling the energy between his limbs renewed. His mood perked up as the power returned to him. “YAHOOOO!” he cried, throwing a triumphant fist in the air. “Globox, we’re saved!” He looked at the vent again, still covered by that flimsy bandage. With a smirk, he opened his palm, concentrating some of that energy between his fingers. As hoped, it began to form a tiny, silver ball. With a flick, that ball broke through the bandage, ripping it wide open. He glanced at Globox with a childish smirk. “Let’s go see Ly,” he said. “She could give me all my powers back!”

“Yeah!” Globox cheered, thundering towards the open vent. “Globox and Rayman escape Prison Ship, find Ly and save everyone!” He grabbed the threshold of the vent and swung through, and Rayman followed with a jump. The vent led into a wide, sloped chute, lined with oily metal. Rayman slid down it on his feet, while Globox spun around on his backside, careening down the chute uncontrollably. It rounded a corner, and his friend disappeared from view. “Rayman!” he cried, just out of view.

“Globox!” Rayman called back. “Where are you? Is it safe down there?” He got no answer. When he finally rounded the corner, he was met with a bright, cloudy sky, overlooking a vast, green earth below. The metal chute suddenly disappeared beneath him, and before he knew it, Rayman had escaped the pirates’ Prison Ship. The world around him spun and spiralled as he fell towards it, screaming all the way down.

Whereas Rayman’s forward momentum had come to a near-stop after leaving the chute, Globox kept on going. Instead of falling straight down, he kept spinning and tumbling diagonally, skipping the clearing below and just shooting straight into the mountains beyond. The birds saw a big, blue blur bounce by, ricocheting off the surrounding trees, skipping across the water, before disappearing with a burp-like sound. One frog swore he saw the blur roll down a long root, curled into a loop-de-loop.

When Globox finally came to a stop, he found himself on a dry, rotting stump beneath a vast canopy. He sat there for a second, waiting for the world around him to stop spinning. “Rayman,” he muttered, hoping something amid the yellow surroundings was his best friend. When he finally settled, he realised that he was truly alone, lost in a dead part of the world. “Rayman, where are you?” he asked meekly, hopping to his feet. His friend did follow him out, didn’t he? “RAYMAAAAAN!” he bellowed, ambling onwards.

He couldn’t afford to think about it too much. Yes, he’d been separated from his best friend, but he had important things to take care of too. His children were waiting for him! Admittedly, he and Ly hadn’t set up a rendez-vous point for after the escape- or, indeed, any particular details beyond smuggling the Silver Lum of energy on board to begin with- but things always worked out. Things always had a way of working out.

A sound cut through the silence, like metallic whining. Oh no. Globox’s heart tensed with dread. There were Pirates nearby. He slowed himself down, creeping onwards on tiptoe, watching the world around him. Where were they? Silence returned to the woods, more dense than before. Globox watched the surrounding trees so intently, he didn’t notice the slope until his foot slipped, and he found himself tumbling right down it, landing square on his head. His vision was blurred, but he could see multiple booted feet stomping towards him. The worst thing was he couldn’t tell how many there really were.

Chapter Text

The woods were disturbed with the sound of a thud. Slowly, the sounds of chirping birds and insects returned, as though they’d never been interrupted. They were aware that a strange, limbless man had fallen out of the sky, but they didn’t care. He’d landed in a long, narrow ditch, atop a short hill. Slowly, Rayman’s senses returned to him, and he staggered to his feet. Somehow, he’d survived that landing. Out of curiosity, he looked up, but the Prison Ship was hidden by a dense ceiling of branches and leaves. For all he knew, it had long gone.

This was, at least, a pleasant environment to find himself in. Rayman ran ahead, forgetting for a brief moment the threat of the Pirates altogether. This was the natural world he’d grown to love. If only his friends were here to enjoy it with him.

Friends… Rayman gasped, then looked around. Globox wasn’t with him. What happened? He had escaped, hadn’t he? “Hey, Globox?” he asked. Maybe he’d just landed nearby. No reply. Maybe if he got out of the ditch, he’d get a better vantage point. He leapt onto a fallen tree overhead, then looked around. Whatever he could see was veiled in shadow. “GLOBOOOOOOX!” Rayman yelled, cupping his hands against his mouth. Again, no answer.

He began to feel worried. It would be easy to lose someone in these woods, wouldn’t it? No, he realised, following the ditch down to its end, these woods are rather small. The ditch ended at a small pond, overlooked by an equally modest waterfall. The sounds of flowing water helped a little to calm Rayman’s nerves, but not a lot. He sat down for a second, taking the scenery in. At the very least, it looked vaguely familiar.

“Rayman!”

He looked up. Who was that? Rayman was back on his feet, charging a pellet of energy in his palm. “Hey, Rayman, relax,” the voice continued, as a green, grinning gremlin descended from the view, waving cheerfully at him. “It’s me, Murfy.”

“Oh, heh.” Rayman dropped the pellet from his hand, letting it fizzle away. “Sorry. Guess I’m not used to being safe. Been a tough few days, you know?”

“The important thing is, you’re free,” Murfy continued, his voice softer than his smile. “That means Ly’s plan worked!” He zoomed right into Rayman’s face, and let out a short, shrill cheer. “Where’s Globox?”

“Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that,” Rayman muttered. “I’m worried we got separated.”

The corners of Murfy’s grin turned briefly into a frown. “That isn’t good,” he admitted. “I got his kids just down the river to meet him.” He turned away from Rayman, dropping his grin altogether. “Well, the ones that hadn’t already been captured,” he added, before facing Rayman again, grinning.

Rayman sighed. “It’s okay, you weren’t to know,” he replied. “I’ll go tell them what happened. With any luck, he couldn’t have got far.” He started following the water’s flow to a nearby stream, taking him deeper into the woods. “Did I miss anything in captivity?”

He heard Murfy sigh behind him. “The rebellion fell apart completely once they captured you,” he admitted. “I don’t even know how the pirates didn’t capture me.” The stream dropped into a short waterfall, which Rayman promptly jumped down, before widening into a small river. “Still,” he continued, audibly grinning, “if you could get out, anything’s possible!”

“Thanks, Murfy,” Rayman replied, meeting the smiling fairy with a smile of his own. Downstream, he could hear the telltale bouncing and chattering of Globox’s children. “Do you know where they’re keeping Ly?”

“I have a hunch,” Murfy replied. “There’s some Teensies nearby. They might be able to help you find her.”

“Rayman! Hey, Rayman!”

The kids were in full view now. Three of them, hopping and bouncing while waving their hands. Rayman stopped dead in his tracks. “Good luck,” Murfy muttered, before flying away. Rayman turned to him, but the children’s cheers grabbed his attention. He took a deep breath, before jumping across the river to greet them.

“Daddy saved Rayman!” they cheered, their voices seamlessly harmonised, as they ran/bounced around Rayman, taking in the view of their dad’s friend and… slowly, the joy faded, and they looked at him with unease. “Where’s daddy?” one asked softly.

“Uh,” Rayman started, not sure where to begin. “Your dad gave me my fist back. We broke out, but uh…” He bit his lip, running his fingers through his hair. It sprung back into shape as his hand returned. “That is to say,” he continued, “we were separated, and uh…” He hung his head, ashamed of himself. True, he wasn’t sure what he could’ve done to bring Globox to his kids, but he still had to tell them.

“Not daddy Globox?” the kids whimpered. In seconds, their joyous bounces turned into an ear-spitting sob, as their mouths widened and tears pooled beside them. “We want our daddy!” they cried, again their voices perfectly synchronised.

“Don’t worry kids,” Rayman said quickly, holding out his hands to try and calm them. “I’ll bring your father back.” Then it occurred to him. If Murfy didn’t know where Ly was being kept, and these kids haven’t been captured yet, then… “But first,” he continued, “I gotta go and find Ly.” He looked around. This was definitely the kind of place Ly would normally hang out. “Have you seen her?”

“The mean old Pirates took Ly deeper into the forest,” the kids managed to say, pointing towards a winding path next to them. “She used all her magic to hide us from them!” Somehow, their crying grew more intense. “Will she and daddy be okay, Rayman?”

“They will,” Rayman promised, turning to the winding path. “I’ll find them, wherever they are.” He glanced at the nearby sky, spotting a telltale glimmer of Murfy’s wings between some leaves. “Murfy!” he called. “Take care of the kids! Make sure they’re safe!”

Murfy emerged, trying not to look annoyed he’d been spotted. “It won’t be easy,” he admitted, “but I’ll try my best!”

That was all Rayman needed to hear. “It’s gonna be okay,” he promised the kids, before heading down the path. Slowly, the sounds of their sobs faded, giving way to gentle woodland ambiance. The path cut through densely packed cottages, leading him through a warmly-lit meadow of flowers. He took a moment there to relax, to ease himself in what could have been the last place untouched by the Pirates, and to practice a few throws of kinetic energy. One energy ball bounced off a rock, then a tree root, before dissipating. He threw another against the root, which flew out of view, and ended with a loud metallic chink.

“Ouch!”

He looked up. Hanging from the large, lavender-coloured tree before him was a small, flimsy cage. “I say, be careful where you’re throwing that thing!” the voice continued, high in register.

“Sorry!” Rayman shouted back. “But I’ll have to throw another to free you guys!”

“Well, let’s not dawdle,” replied another voice. Very similar, but clearly not the same. “You’re the big hero, after all.”

The attitude didn’t sit well with Rayman, but prisoners were prisoners. He threw another ball, making sure it ricocheted off the same root at the same angle. As hoped, it smacked against the cage, blowing it wide open. Four figures fell from it, landing orderly next to one another. Each had large, grey noses that almost covered their small, regally-dressed bodies. One held a crown, and bowed before their saviour. “I’m King of the Teensies,” he said, “and I congratulate you for your courage.”

As he spoke, Rayman noticed the nearest Teensie creeping close to the King, before swiping the crown from his head and donning it. “Don’t listen to him,” he insisted, “I’m the King of the Teensies.” Now he bowed, showing the opposite side to the crown. It looked hollow, like something a child would make.

Rayman simply watched, stupefied. “But,” he managed to reply.

The Teensie next to the current King took the crown while he was still bowing. “No, I’m the real King!” he whined.

Rayman huffed in exasperation. A group of robotic pirates were invading their world, and this was the Teensie Kingdom’s biggest concern? “Come on,” he pleaded. “Who’s the King?”

“It’s me,” claimed the one wearing the crown.

“Me!” cried the fourth, taking the crown for himself.

“Me!” cried the second, taking the crown right over the third’s head.

“Me!” cried the first, taking the crown before the second was done talking.

“STOP!” Rayman yelled. That got their attention. Whoever was currently wearing the crown was allowed to keep it. “I absolutely must see Ly,” he continued. “Do you know where she is?”

Whoever wore the crown hastily passed it onto the Teensie next to him, while his court awkwardly shuffled aside. “Uh, this isn’t easy to say,” he said, “but the Pirates have taken Ly to the Fairy Glade. They’ve locked her in one of their strongholds.” Done talking, he passed the crown to the Teensie nearest, while the court queued up behind their new monarch.

“We can create a portal to the Glade,” said the new King, “but I’m afraid it’s a one-way trip. Prepare yourself for a great journey, Rayman.” As he spoke, he twirled his hand in the other’s palm, spinning the latent energy around them into a small, purple vortex, before casting it to the ground next to the tree. Slowly, it grew, awaiting the person who would pass through.

Rayman looked at it nervously, before clenching his fist. “Get yourselves somewhere safe,” he told them, before diving into the portal. The four watched as the portal swirled, and swirled, before receding into a mere twinkle.

“He will be our saviour?” someone from the court asked. “What a peculiar fellow.”

“Yeah,” said the King. “He looked like a vegetable.”

Chapter Text

When Rayman emerged from the Teensies’ portal, it felt like waking from a dream. His senses slowly returned to him, his heart was racing, and the (comparatively) cold air met him like a slap in the face. Whatever it was, it was enough to get him adjusted to his new surroundings very quickly. Presently, he was on an island on the edge of a small, but deep lake, with a thick tree branch hanging over like a bridge. Little yellow balls of energy flitted listlessly above the water’s surface.

Curious, Rayman crept close to one of the yellow balls. “Hi there,” he said gently. “Are you guys lost?”

The yellow ball chittered, making noises he couldn’t understand. Judging by its body language, it was definitely lost. As comfortable as this lake looked, it wasn’t their home. Gingerly, it approached Rayman, before suddenly melting into his body. Unlike the Silver Lum from Globox, all he got from this was a brief warm sensation.

As soon as it occurred to him what these things were, he heard fluttering wings behind him. “Way to go, Rayman!” Murfy said. “You’ve found the lums!”

So they were the lums scattered by the Pirates. “There’s thousands of these, aren’t there?” he asked, looking at Murfy. “If we get them all, will the Heart of the World be restored?”

“Provided you get the right lums, sure,” Murfy replied. “I wouldn’t wanna see the Heart filled with thousands of blue lums.”

That earned a laugh from Rayman, who imagined what that world would look like. Probably very aquatic. “So I heard Ly’s being held here,” he said, getting back on topic. “Any idea where?”

“I saw an elaborate Pirate stronghold on the way here,” Murfy replied, pointing to a gate on the other side of the lake. “There’s a switch nearby, I’ll go test it.”

“Thanks, Murfy,” Rayman replied, leaping across islands along the lake, absorbing each lum he came across. A few hid in the water below, mixing with blue lums. When he dove to grab them, the tension in his lungs eased with each blue lum he grabbed. He emerged as quickly as he dove in, shaking himself dry before a small cage suddenly crashed in front of him, to his shock. “Sorry!” Murfy cried from above. “Couldn’t just leave that slave be, you know?”

The cage fell apart, releasing a Teensie back into the world. It gave Rayman a grateful bow, before disappearing in a puff of smoke. As Rayman watched, waiting for the shock to fade, he heard a click above him, followed by the gate creaking open. “It worked!” he shouted up to Murfy, before crossing the lake entirely. “Thanks again!”

“No problem,” Murfy replied with a wave. “And good luck with the Pirates ahead.” Then, he was gone, leaving Rayman to face the danger alone. Without stopping to think about it, Rayman passed through the gate.

A stream flowed from a spring tucked into the path. As Rayman followed it, the stream took up more of the path, until he found himself slipping down the rest of the way, collecting every lum in his path. His view was partly hidden by the tight tree tunnel the stream wound through. In fact, it was hiding a nasty surprise for him, if he hadn’t leapt to the side when the path opened up again.

The stream poured into a thick, blackened lake, littered with leaping piranhas, while a large, crude machine pumped muck into the water, overseen by the windows of a nearby fortress. The sky, which had been clear as crystal when he arrived, was growing clouded and dark. In just seconds, his childlike joy had turned into abject horror. This is what the Pirates were doing to his world. What was worse, there was no way for him to safely enter the fortress from where he stood.

All he could do was follow the path provided to him. One that led him across curled vines across the cliff face, guided by a row of lums. While the air was dense and filled with putrid smells, they gave Rayman a sense of comfort. I can’t even remember what this place used to look like, he thought to himself. It’s only a matter of time before that other lake is ruined by them.

The path led to a small hole in the cliff, taking Rayman away from the polluting fortress. Part of him hoped it would take him back to the serene clearings from before, as unlikely as that would be. He jumped down, resisting the urge to look back at the fortress.

When he landed, he found himself in another clearing, all right. One overlooked by a ramshackle, multilayered stronghold. The sky was fully dark now, as if the day had given up and passed over to night. A few lanterns lit the construction up, guiding Rayman to it. There didn’t seem to be any easy way in; a balcony watched over, seemingly unmanned. As he approached, he heard a hard knocking underfoot. Looking down, he saw a rusted sewer grate. Could that be his way in? He threw some energy, but it bounced harmlessly off.

Something metallic screamed above him. A loud thud drew Rayman’s attention back to the balcony, where a Robo-Pirate now stood. All he could see was its cubic, rusted chest, covered only by a threadbare red jacket, and its aggressive, one-eyed head glaring at him. “Rayman,” he snarled. “You should not have left captivity!”

“And you shouldn’t have invaded our world!” Rayman shot back, preparing a pellet to project. He punctuated his message by throwing it, and watched helplessly as it quietly bounced off the balcony balustrade, fast fading from view. The two watched it silently as it vanished, before looking at each other. Now, the Pirate held a keg in his arms, smoke trailing from it.

He laughed. “How the hero has fallen,” he announced, before throwing the keg at Rayman. He stepped out of the way, in time for the keg to smash through the grate in a small explosion. Rayman looked at the Pirate, and noticed panic in his eye.

“You’re right!” he declared, jumping into the stronghold sewer. He landed by a green, vile-smelling river, filled with giant barrels which wobbled as Rayman crossed them. At the end, a web led up to a small platform, where more barrels regularly fell from two chutes. He climbed, dodging each barrel as it passed, and jumped onto the platform, where a red carpeted staircase awaited him. I need to remember how dumb those Pirates really are, he thought, running up it.

“Not so fast, you insect!” roared the Pirate, meeting him in a small room at the top. Now, Rayman could get a better look at him- specifically the arm cannon currently pointed at him, ready to fire. He took aim and shot, launching three orange pellets at the limbless hero. They moved rather slowly, enough for Rayman to effortlessly strafe between them, responding with a shot of his own. The Pirate wasn’t as quick-footed, nor was he quick to go down. He sneered. “You used to demolish us with shots like that,” he said, hacking a cough. “Capturing you again will be effortless.”

“And so will escaping!” Rayman fired back, shattering the Pirate’s hook hand. Now when he shot him, it was with terror, not confidence. His aim was off. It didn’t take much to dodge him now. “Each time, I’ll save someone else,” he continued. “You won’t stop me from saving my friends anymore!” With that, he threw one final pellet, knocking the Pirate’s head clean off. The blow knocked his body to the floor, where it shattered with a loud bang. Rayman relaxed, surveying the damage. Even with his powers so weak, he could easily take on this Pirate without breaking a sweat.

But this Pirate didn’t capture me, he reminded himself. All of them did, the strong ones. There’s no way I can take them on by myself, even with all my powers. He turned, and ran up the nearest flight of stairs. This had to be where they were holding Ly.

Chapter Text

Even formidable Robo-Pirate encampments needed open air, it seemed. After a few minutes of exploring their stronghold, Rayman discovered a large clearing tucked somewhere in the middle of it. (Surprisingly, none of the paths he crossed led him to that balcony outside.) As he entered, the hum of lasers and machinery faded, if only for a moment, as he took in the view from above.

A sharp, crystalline shape flickered, projected from a crude machine, pipes leading across the ground, while a Pirate patrolled the project. The noise from the shape was gentle, yet weirdly discomforting. And that was before Rayman saw Ly’s face inside, eyes closed in either agony or serenity. He wasted no time jumping down and challenging the Pirate. “You!” he exclaimed, firing back. “Admiral Razorbeard will hear about this!”

Rayman skirted around his shots, firing back his own. Just before dealing the finishing blow, his foot caught on a pipe, and he stumbled for a second. A projectile smacked him in the face, snapping him back to attention. The Pirate didn’t last much longer after that, but the damage (mild as it was) was done. He felt a small pain in his side, more irritating than anything. It didn’t stop him from getting a better look at Ly. Unfortunately for him, the shape was too opaque to see anything besides an outline of her slender form.

“Rayman,” her voice hissed, “free me, Rayman! Find the machine powering this prison, and destroy it!” It sounded like she was talking through unimaginable pain. Even despite her struggle, she wouldn’t cry out or surrender to it. Rayman looked around, about to ask what she was talking about, before he saw a dark tunnel right behind him, leading wherever the pipes were connected to. With only a nod, he ran in.

A small trail of red lums guided Rayman through the dark. Grabbing them, he didn’t feel the same warmth from the yellow ones, but the pain faded pretty quick. I wonder what the world would be like with you guys at the Heart, he wondered. Probably really healthy, I suppose. Before one last turn, he saw a lone keg, sealed tight, lying next to a chute door. He carried on, keeping the keg in the back of his mind. Whatever reason it was there, he’d probably need it.

It looked like he was right. A massive, immobile machine sat at the end of a winding walkway, spitting electricity into the hissing acid below. The whole thing was seemingly held together by a single, dirty bandage. Rayman turned and grabbed the keg from earlier, carrying it into the machine room. It was pretty heavy, reducing his speed to an arduous walk. The machine watched him, spitting out a flying bomb to detonate the keg. Perhaps if it had been built better, the bomb would have caught him by surprise. Instead, Rayman simply threw the keg in the air, tossed a pellet into the bomb, and caught the keg as his obstacle was blown up. It barely managed a second one before he threw it into the bandage, ripping it right off.

The electric stream, which had been rather steady and focused, suddenly spat and coiled around the room, cutting through pipes and making the acid boil. Rayman fled before he’d be part of the collateral. A loud hiss followed him back through the tunnel, which faded by the time he returned to the clearing, just in time to watch the crystalline shape shrink into nothing, leaving only Ly where it stood. She hovered there, legs crossed in the lotus position. Her eyes were still shut, but they looked less strained than before, though it was hard to really tell. “Ly,” Rayman asked softly, “are you okay?”

Her eyes slowly opened, and she hovered over to Rayman. Her purple hair billowed gently behind her, almost covering her pointed ears. “Oh Rayman,” she whispered, “at last. I was afraid Globox had failed.”

Globox… He was still out there, wasn’t he? “He gave me the Silver Lum,” Rayman explained, “but we got separated. I need to find him, and get rid of the Pirates.” He fantasised, for a brief moment, him bulldozing dozens of Pirates, rescuing his friend before taking the fight to Razorbeard personally. “But to do that,” he continued, “I’ll need all of my powers.”

“Indeed,” said Ly, with a hint of sadness. “I am too weak to give you back all of your powers.” She uncrossed her legs and stood on both feet before Rayman, towering over him by a head. “They broke the primordial energy core into a thousand lums, and combining the energy has become very difficult.”

Of course. Ly’s powers came straight from the world’s latent energy. With that energy literally scattered, there wasn’t much she could do. “But,” Ly continued, looking up to the sky, “there may be another solution.” She looked back down at Rayman. “Have you heard of Polokus?”

“Um…” Rayman frowned. “No?” Something about that name did feel familiar to him, as though this wasn’t the first time he’d heard that name. Where had he heard that before? A woman said it once, he thought.

“He’s the spirit of the world,” Ly explained. “His powers are immense. With his help, we could defeat the Pirates.” Her gaze returned to the sky again. “Unfortunately, he’s been secluded for many years. His dreams shape the world’s laws, so he cannot afford to witness it in person.” She sighed, as though recalling a former friend. “But there is a legend which says he could be awakened. If you unite the Four Masks…”

Now that was unfamiliar. “Four Masks?” Rayman parroted. That mysterious voice in his memories hadn’t mentioned that.

“The Masks of Madness, Might, Malice and Mirth,” Ly explained, conjuring images of each Mask before her. The first, a blue diamond with a psychotic smirk. The second, a stone rectangle with a stoic visage. The third, a brown triangle with a horrific grimace. The fourth, a yellow oval with an innocent smile. “These Masks are magical, and very powerful,” she said. “They are hidden in secret and mysterious places, called Sanctuaries. Find them, Rayman! It’s our only hope.”

“Got it,” Rayman replied. “Where can I find them?”

“The first sanctuary can be found on a beach beyond the marshes,” she told him, crossing her legs and levitating once again. “I’ll help by giving you some of the energy I’ve gathered.” She cupped her hands together, conjuring a Silver Lum into existence. With a gentle push, the Lum flowed into Rayman, strengthening the connections between his limbs even further. “YAHOOOO!” Rayman cried, throwing a fist in the air. Every ounce of energy he regained felt wonderful. Better than all the yellow lums of the world combined. Slivers of energy remained in Ly’s palms. She spread them across her body, absorbing her body limb by limb, until she was gone in a brief sparkle of magic. All that remained was a purple lum, shaped like a flying ring with eyes, rising to bridge the gap to another passage just above the clearing. “Good luck, Rayman,” whispered Ly in his head, her voice echoing away as he grabbed the lum, landing by the passage back into the stronghold.

“Ha, I wonder what the Heart would do full of purple lums,” Rayman asked himself. “Maybe it’d be all vertical, and everyone would have to swing everywhere.” He chuckled at the thought, running back into the stronghold with renewed confidence.

The resistance made their last stand in the Rainbow Cliffs. Though it ended with most of them captured, the tiny village of glutes and Teensies went undiscovered. When Ly arrived, she ran to make sure that hadn’t changed. She was met with scattered, circular huts, with little glutes running amongst each other. “Hey,” one cried, “it’s Ly!” Suddenly, the blue babies stopped their games and ran up to her, bouncing and waving merrily. “Rayman rescued Ly!” they shouted, over and over.

Ly smiled, crouching to pat one on the head. “And it’s all thanks to your daddy Globox,” she whispered. As she did, the children stopped bouncing, and started crying again, their sobs cacophonous in volume. Ly cringed, stepping back in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she tried to say.

“Word of advice,” Murfy said behind her, fluttering into view, “Globox is AWOL. Wouldn’t remind them if I were you.”

Ly nodded, laughing nervously. “Rayman told me,” she admitted. “I really should’ve minded my tongue.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” Murfy replied, watching as the children’s mother, Uglette, pounded onto the scene, cradling each glute out of crying one at a time. “Long as you don’t mention Rayman didn’t come back with you.” He smiled. “Speaking of which, where’d he go?”

“Off to find the Mask of Madness,” Ly told him.

“The Mask of what?” Murfy repeated, his mouth dropping open in shock. “You know how many Pirates know he escaped? They’re gonna pick the swamp clean, just to find him!”

“Well go keep an eye on him, then,” Ly said with a wink. “Someone has to stay and keep the Teensie monarchy from collapsing again.”

“Good point,” Murfy replied, immediately taking to the skies. “Good luck, Mystic!”

Chapter Text

Rayman leapt from the balcony onto a tree root below. He wasn’t sure how wide that stronghold stretched, but it was definitely vast enough to cover at least part of the swamps. The air felt more dense than in the Fairy Glade, and the smell was stronger too. It wasn’t nauseating, like in the machine room, but it was definitely noticeable. He wandered down the root, towards a wall of nets connecting a small Pirate camp. It didn’t seem all that active, although someone was crying for help within.

As Rayman prepared to jump, something caught his eye. The glimmer of a torch in a nearby tree. Curiosity pulled him away from the camp, and he leapt to investigate. He landed on a mossy root, which wound into the trunk, where the flickering torch awaited him. On approach, he saw a crooked pole with a skull mounted on it. “Ah!” Rayman gasped, staggering back. “What in Skops’ name?”

Whatever was tucked into this tree, it was morbid. Enough to keep even the Pirates away, it seemed; a nearby sign with the Pirates’ insignia read as such: This is unknown territory. Tourism may be hazardous. His stomach told him to turn back and never enter, and his body agreed. As he returned to the camp, he heard the captured prisoner, still crying out. Had they seen him desert them just on a whim? I need to remind myself how serious this is, he thought to himself. When I’m done, maybe me and Clark can go check that tree out.

The nets dropped him off on a small, rickety dock, overlooking a half-sunk, rusted cage. He wasted no time breaking it apart, though he briefly regretted it when its captive emerged. A thin, purple snake with a snout one third of its length, tied together by a surprisingly clean, red scarf. “How can I ever thank you?” he hissed, with a tone somewhere between sincerity and sarcasm.

“Forget it, Ssssam,” Rayman said dismissively. Him and Ssssam weren’t the best of friends, as much as the snake thought otherwise. Something about him creeped Rayman out, though he hadn’t really stopped to think what that was. “Take care, okay?” he said, preparing to move on. There weren’t any islands nearby, or boats, or even a purple lum. It seemed this was the end of the road. Which meant… Oh no.

“Ah, I forgot how good it feels to stretch out,” ssssaid Ssssam, flexing his liberated neck, coiling and snapping, giving his head a whirl. “Senssssational!” There was nothing sarcastic in that tone, Rayman realised. Maybe he hadn’t noticed his brief excursion earlier. At any rate, now was not the time to be prejudiced. Not everything that lived in swamps wanted him dead.

“Tell me,” said Rayman, “do you know where to find the Four Masks of Polokus?” He looked at Ssssam, hoping to find some glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Apparently there’s one on the beach?” Nope, nothing.

“Sorry, Rayman,” Ssssam conceded, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned and looked at the swamp ahead of him, pondering. “But I did see Globox get hauled away by two Pirates. They took him somewhere out beyond the marshes.” He noticed the alert look in Rayman’s eyes. That got his attention. “If you like, I can help you get over to the other side.”

“Do whatever you have to do,” Rayman said urgently. “He broke me out, so I need to do the same.” As much as he’d hoped otherwise, he knew deep down that Globox must have been recaptured.

“Take this,” Ssssam insssstructed, pulling a green lum out of the muck and throwing it into Rayman. As he absorbed it, he felt his memory of this moment solidify, as though he would never forget it again. “Then, grab a hold of my scarf with your power. If something goes wrong, you’ll return to this dock, no worse for wear.” He turned towards the swamp, revealing a small tag in said scarf. From that angle, Rayman saw an ecstatic grin on the purple snake. What was he getting himself into? “Come on, let’s go!”

Without waiting, Rayman threw his fist into Sssam’s sssscarf. Instead of attacking his new ally, a magic chain connected to his fist, and the snake zipped through the water while he skidded behind. He was skiing. He was water skiing across the marshes. “Hey, this is fun!” he cried. “Can’t believe I’ve never done this before!”

“My mother had a saying,” Ssssam ssssaid back. “Necessity is the mother of discovery. You wouldn’t have thought to try unless your hand had been forced.” There was joy in his voice. The glee of someone who’d just made a new friend. He charged beneath a large tree, into a dark tunnel between its routes. Large, wooden posts stood in the way. “Be careful!” he commanded, darting between the posts.

Rayman adjusted his position accordingly, narrowly missing each post. Unfortunately, one cut straight through the chain. He carried on skiing for a moment, before his momentum slowed, and he fell into the water, abruptly disintegrating into kaleidoscopic lights.

When Rayman came to, he was back on the dock, staring at Ssssam’s bemused face. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

“Yep, sorry,” Rayman muttered, reconnecting with Ssssam’s sssscarf. The two took to the tides again, zipping between posts a little more carefully. “Hey, Ssssam, got a question for you!” said Rayman above the noise.

“What’s that, then?” Ssssam replied, watching as the rotted corpses of spectral chickens faded into view, watching numbly.

“You know how the Heart of the World’s made of yellow lums?” asked Rayman, hopping on a shell-like island, bouncing off it to catch the lums in question.

“News to me,” admitted Ssssam, “but go on.”

“What if it was made out of green lums?” They passed by a small Pirate boat. The Pirate aboard had been fishing, just passing time during his patrol, until public enemy number one came skiing past with a weird snake thing. All he could do was fire a few warning shots, before they turned a corner and were quickly gone.

As they finished rounding that corner, something emerged from the water near them. A large, slack-jawed creature with two lights glowing above its head. Its fangs were so crooked, Rayman could tell even as he was rushing right past. “Careful!” he shouted to Ssssam. “I think that thing wants to eat us!”

“Oh, that’s just Eig,” Ssssam said dissssmissively. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. At least, not on purpose.” Rayman turned to look, but the creature had already receded back into the water. All that remained were two, glowing lights. He decided not to look back again. “So, what were you saying about green lums?”

“Well-”

“Oh, look! We’ve reached the end!” Rayman snapped to attention as they approached a thin, hollow tree, with a small path leading beneath it. Ssssam took a ssssudden curve, severing the chain and throwing Rayman onto it. He landed gracefully, his heart still pumping quickly. Slowly, the rush of the trip faded, and he turned to face Ssssam. “So long,” he said softly, a tear creeping from his eye. “Come and see me if you can.” With that, he turned and swam the other way.

“I promise I will,” said Rayman, surprised by how much he meant that. In all that fun, he’d forgot all his presumptions about how awful Ssssam supposedly was. He genuinely enjoyed that.

“I will miss you, my friend,” said Ssssam, before his head sank beneath the swamp waters. Clearly he enjoyed that short stint too.

“Me too,” said Rayman, knowing that nobody was listening to him.

Warning. This is unknown territory. Tourism may be hazardous.

The Pirate read the sign in disbelief. Razorbeard had taken almost all the land by now. How could a single, creepy tree resist being conquered? This would not do. He reloaded his cannon, gave his hook hand a little test swing, before stomping in. A skull fixed to a crude pole awaited him, and was swiftly knocked down as he passed. Inside, he was met with more skulls scattered about, filling a small grotto lined with cobwebs. Was this it? Were the Pirates afraid of such a small grotto?

Something rumbled beneath his feet. Two thin, skeletal hands rose from the earth, slamming down to push the body up. A large, purple hat emerged first, followed by a yellow eye and fanged jaw, attached to a green sphere. “You still don’t know the name of this place,” he snarled. “Begone, or perish!”

“We don’t need to know where we place our flag,” the Pirate roared, firing at the guardian. His shots bounced harmlessly off his body, while he watched impatiently. The Pirate’s steely gaze turned cold with horror. He turned to run, but a bony hand snatched him off the ground.

“Beyond here is a place so vile,” the guardian hissed, tightening his grip, “it makes Admiral Razorbeard look like the good guy.” The Pirate’s body crumpled up, his head popping off in a tuft of smoke. Insulted, the guardian tossed the body aside, watching as each piece fell into the marshes outside. “I await the one who knows the name,” he whispered, before digging back into the earth.

Chapter Text

When Rayman was being held on the Prison Ship, the slaves on board averaged around 19,000. Since his escape, that number had risen to 22,730. Despite his freedom, he hadn’t significantly affected their invasion yet. In fact, news of his escape had only emboldened their efforts. This news had not yet reached Admiral Razorbeard yet, however.

This ship had a name, unbeknownst to Rayman. The Buccaneer. Only two crewmembers knew that. Razorbeard himself, and his beleaguered assistant, Spyglass. He wasn’t designed to be liked. On his way into the captain’s private cabin, Spyglass tripped over a soldier’s “stray” leg, slamming into the ground behind Razorbeard’s back. “You’ll pay for that, soldier,” he growled. Both soldiers knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Spyglass picked himself up and marched dutifully into the cabin. It was way too big for its own good, housing only Razorbeard and his throne, watching from a metal piston the world beneath him. “Who dares disturb me?!” he screamed.

“Your Horribleness,” Spyglass stammered, suddenly struck by the terror of his boss, “he… he’s made it to the swamp!”

Razorbeard pivoted on his throne, his hat flying into the air as he did. Nobody ever saw him get down from his throne. Probably because his body was tiny, and that piston hadn’t retracted in a long time. Still, his mouth was shaped like a razor, and his temper made up for his stripy white-and-red pantaloons. “What?!” he cried, his hair turning straight in rage before coiling back into shape. “You incompetent imbecile! ARRRRRRRRGGGGGGG!” Whoever said not to shoot the messenger, had never met Spyglass’ boss. “Send the Warships and destroy him! He mustn’t get his grubby hands on the Four Masks!”

Speaking of grubby hands, Razorbeard pulled a yellow lum from beneath his seat, holding it menacingly before Spyglass. Then, he swallowed the lum in one bite. “That is how you take control,” he snarled. “Now quit grovelling and dispatch the Warships!”

He swivelled back and gazed out the window, listening to Spyglass skuttering out of the room, tripping up on the way. Silence followed, as the Warships crawled across the sky above the swamp, like tiny insects searching for prey. This was going to be fun to watch.

Something changed in the air, stopping Murfy cold. A cold chill carried across the wind, and everyone felt it. The trees shook, then seemed to age several decades in just a few seconds, as though part of their life had been abruptly stolen. Even the lums, still skittering above the swamp, shuddered quite noticeably. “Something’s wrong,” he said aloud, then continued scouring for Rayman above the swamp.

Then he heard a loud klaxon, and looked up. A small fleet of Pirate Warships descended from the passing shape of the Prison Ship, heading straight towards him. If he didn’t move now, he would almost certainly get captured. He dove straight through the canopy, and smacked straight into Rayman’s bulbous nose. “Rayman!” he gasped. “Oh, thank goodness. You need to hide!”

“Murfy,” Rayman stammered, dazed, “what’s wrong?”

To answer his question, a Warship careened into view, crashing through the trees. Its searchlights crawled across the passing river, its engine turned directly to the two. They hadn’t spotted him. Not yet. “This is just a hunch,” Murfy whispered, trying not to panic, “but it looks like Razorbeard knows you escaped.” He glanced at the ship again, watching some floating bombs deploy from it. “To be precise, he knows where you’re going.”

“Does this mean they’re after the Masks too?” Rayman asked, surveying the river. A few branches reached across it. Soon, the bombs would notice him. There was nothing stopping the Warship turning around and spotting both of them.

“Oh, you know about the Masks,” Murfy whispered. “If Razorbeard could access the Masks, he’d have all four of them by now.” He took a deep breath, knowing just what Rayman was about to do. “Ergo, if he can’t have them, nor can you.”

“We’ll see about that,” Rayman declared, jumping across the river. He threw a pellet against the nearest bomb, which exploded rather loudly. Murfy watched the Warship with gritted teeth, fully expecting it to turn around and fire everything it had to capture him again. Instead, it seemed, the ship’s yaw was too restricted by the surrounding trees. It would need to rise above to turn around properly. Instead, a Pirate hopped from the deck, hoping to catch Rayman by surprise. “Pirate, at 12 o’clock!” Murfy warned.

Rayman heard, and stepped back just in time to avoid a hook slamming where he just stood. He threw a pellet into its head- not enough to defeat it, but enough to add injury to insult. Murfy hung back, too scared to contribute to the fight in any real way, and with no training in fighting. Luckily, Rayman won the fight a few blows later, and gave the green fairy a thumbs up after. “Shall we get going?”

Murfy glanced uneasily at the Warship. “Stay in these swamps too long,” he muttered, “they will smoke you out.” He gasped, as a memory returned to him. “Rayman, I know a shortcut!”

“A shortcut?” Rayman asked, hopping from root to root, reaching the opposite bank before the Warship could launch another bomb. It knew where he was going, but if he kept moving, maybe he could lose them. “Where?”

“On the edge,” said Murfy, watching Rayman’s back. “There’s a Teensie shaman, hiding from the world. He might take you straight to the beach!” He turned and flew ahead of Rayman, ushering him along. “C’mon, I remember where he is!”

The tree stood alone, rising from an endless chasm from the edge of a cliff. Two torches burned from holes in the bark, shaped like enraged eyes, overlooking half of an iron bridge, with only a purple lum filling the gap. Murfy gaped at the sight with horror. “That wasn’t there when I came here last,” he muttered.

“What’s that?” asked Rayman, swinging across to the bridge.

“This very bridge,” said Murfy, gesturing to the metallic ground beneath his feet. “The Shaman wouldn’t want anyone finding him. He was perfectly fine on his own.” He looked ahead, and found a long, wooden walkway, filled with swinging sawblades and a Pirate door at the other end. “Rayman, they’ve got him!”

Rayman entered the tree, and saw the Pirate-made path before him. “Of course,” he said, wishing he hadn’t thought about it, “this place would be a great prison for slaves.” He turned, noticing a button nearby. A single pellet was enough to activate it, though it didn’t stop the sawblades from swinging. Rayman sprinted for the opening door, dodging and sidestepping each sharpened blade. Halfway through, the door began to close. He made it through just as it slammed shut. Murfy, unfortunately, did not get through.

“Rayman!” he cried. “I’m going back to the resistance! Think you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Rayman told him. “Thanks for your help, Murfy!”

“Take care,” said Murfy, flying back out of the tree. Rayman listened to his wings flutter away, before looking ahead. For a prison, it was surprisingly empty. Cells hung empty, shackles lay open, and only a single cage sat in view. He broke it, freeing a Teensie with a large, purple hat fixed to his head. “Ahh, thank you,” he said, bowing before Rayman. “Apparently my home makes for a great holding bay for ol’ Razorbeard upstairs.”

“Yeah,” Rayman said, hoping not to say anything that would offend him. “Murfy said you could take me to the beach?”

“Of course,” said the Teensie. “Sooner I get rid of you, sooner I can begin clearing this place out.” He waddled up to Rayman, looking him in the eye. “Did anyone teach you the Portal Polka?”

“Yep,” said Rayman. “I can even hear the music in my head right now.”

“Good,” huffed the Teensie. “Saves the author a few hundred words of me teaching you.” He put his hands to his hips, and so did Rayman. Together, they danced to that bozouki in their heads, spinning in small circles. As they finished, a small purple portal formed in the floorboards. It was a modest effort, but it looked functional. “This’ll take you where you want to go,” he said. “Now get moving before it does.”

“Right,” said Rayman, jumping in. His body shrunk into the portal’s mass, which faded immediately after. The Teensie watched him go with a humph. “He didn’t even thank me,” he grunted.

Chapter Text

Compared to the portal conjured by the Teensie Monarchy, this one held Rayman for about one tenth of the time, and gave him a weird sense of nausea. As it faded, it felt like he was stuck in a small, damp chamber that smelt of salt.

Probably because that’s exactly where he was. A door stood opposite him, seemingly rusted shut. A few barrels were scattered around, covered in moss or brine. Nearby, a large fish tank was mounted into an alcove, without a lid to cover it. If this was ever meant as a cell for slaves, the Pirates forgot about it long ago. “It’d be embarrassing to be locked up in here,” Rayman said to himself, climbing into the water. Globox or Ly could escape without breaking a sweat, he thought, following a trail of blue lums through an underwater cave. This tank ran far deeper than he really expected it to. Was it even meant to be a fish tank?

If this was meant to be a dead end, the lums wouldn’t be here. Yellow ones hid in decaying chests and amidst coral. They had to get in here somehow. The cave slowly curved up, leading to the water’s surface, though it was too misty to tell what was above it from there. Rayman’s head poked through, and he found himself in more of the cave, leading to a sandy beach outside. “Maybe the Sanctuary is just outside,” he thought, drying himself off.

After everything he’d been through, especially considering how rough things would certainly get later on, stepping out onto the beach felt like a breath of fresh air. Technically, it was. A door was built into the cliffs, but there wasn’t any obvious way of opening it. Nothing he tried got it to even budge. For now, it seemed his quest had hit a roadblock.

Despite the darkened sky, and the patrolling Warship on the horizon, the sound of seagulls crying and waves lapping put his mind at ease. He sat, staring at a nearby palm tree. “When this is all over,” he said to himself, “me and Globox ought to find a beach, sit and get fat. Maybe we’d even find some gold coins beneath the waves.”

“I never imagined you to be so greedy, Rayman.”

That was Ly’s voice. Rayman sat up, and saw the fairy in question leaning on the palm tree, gazing at him in amusement. “Ly!” he yelled, staggering to his feet. The shifting sand underfoot made that tricky. “Um, just taking a break before looking for the Mask.” He looked around, wondering where to go from there. The only obvious path obvious to him was in the sea itself. “Er, speaking of greed, you wouldn’t happen to have a Silver Lum, would you?”

Ly chuckled and shook her head. “My powers aren’t quite there yet,” she said sadly. “All I can tell you is where the Sanctuary is.” She walked down the beach, gazing out at the open water. The waves soaked her feet, which she didn’t seem to notice. “You’ve probably guessed it.”

“Under the sea,” Rayman muttered, looking down at it. That was a vast place to look, and he couldn’t be sure there were enough blue lums to survive for long.

“The Sanctuary of Water and Ice,” she said. “Once upon a time, that door would open for anyone. When the Pirates arrived, it seems the prisms that controlled it were destroyed.” She sighed, as if she was one of those people. “Luckily for you, there’s someone who knows another way in. A whale named Carmen.” She closed her eyes. Suddenly, the smile dropped from her face. “Oh no,” she gasped. “The Pirates have captured her. As the guide to the Sanctuary, she’s too valuable to set free.”

“Is she being kept nearby?” Rayman asked, glancing at the sea.

“Yes, in a cove not far from here,” she said, conjuring a small, floating flower above her head. “Ride on this,” Ly instructed. “It will take you there.” What little drops of magic remained on her hands, she spread them across her body. “I must return to Rainbow Cliffs,” she said. “Sorry I couldn’t be of much help.”

“It’s okay, Ly,” said Rayman, hopping onto the flower. “I’ll try and join you guys as soon as I can!”

Ly watched him go, as a film of magic covered her eyes. “I know you will,” she whispered.

How long had Carmen been locked up? Who knew? Compared to other slaves, her prison was more rudimentary; all the Pirates did was chase her into an alcove large enough, fixed a laser grid to it, then forgot all about her. All she could do was sit, wait, and eat whatever the piranhas fed her. She didn’t know what they were doing, but they seemed to be fond of her.

Something splashed in the water. A man? Six vegetables telekinetically strung together? Whatever it, or he was, he noticed her, almost as if he knew who she was. He swam away after that. Was he just there to gawk at Carmen? That wouldn’t make sense. This cove was awfully well hidden. He’d have to seek her out, or get insanely lucky. Before she could consider other possibilities, one of the lasers suddenly blinked out. Carmen blinked in surprise. Was that just a fault? They did flicker sometimes. This one could come back on anytime.

But it didn’t. In fact, another laser blinked out too. That was to say, they were being switched off. Was that weird man trying to break her free? Another laser died. Another! Carmen was free! Or was she? She inched forwards a little, keeping an eye out for Pirates. All she could see was the man. Her rescuer? He looked like he expected something from her. Of course! He was here for the Mask of Madness. That’s why he sought her out. If she’d been just some whale, would he have rescued her?

Then again, if she’d just been some whale, the Pirates wouldn’t have locked her up in such a secluded cove. With a flick of her fin, she gestured for the weird man to follow. Air bubbles escaped her mouth, there to give him some air. They weren’t quite blue lums, but they were good enough. That was, until a piranha suddenly swam forwards and gobbled the bubble whole. She gasped, releasing a dozen bubbles. Both piranhas made quick work of the feast, although the man did get to swallow one. So that was how it was going to be.

Still, there wasn’t a second to lose. Carmen ushered the weird man on, guiding him through a cave beneath the cove. She rolled an eye back, to make sure he was indeed following. The piranhas were still gunning for her bubbles, but he warded them off with small pellets of energy. Perhaps if he rode her, they’d reach their destination faster? No, with her little guests around, he wouldn’t be allowed on her back. As they dove deeper into the cave, she hoped the water’s density didn’t slow him down.

He seemed to keep up rather easily. A few yellow lums watched Carmen pass, before the weird man absorbed them. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but they didn’t seem to mind. Those lums were new, she noticed. Ever since that day the world shook with agony, she briefly saw them swim by. Were they connected? Maybe the weird man was sent directly from Polokus to repair the world. He didn’t look like a hero, but who did? He rescued her, after all.

The cave ended with a large door, surrounded by whatever pillars hadn’t yet collapsed. This was the secret entrance to the Sanctuary of Water and Ice. Where the Pirates would not think to look. The weird man swam forward, and the doors slowly swung open of their own accord. There was no doubt about it anymore. He was the one destined to bring Polokus back. Carmen wanted to say something to him. Maybe thank him for releasing her, or warn her of the Mask’s guardian, or apologise for the piranhas behaviour. But when she opened her mouth, all that came out were bubbles.

He seemed to understand, flashing her a thumbs up and a smile, before swimming through the opened door. She watched him enter the Sanctuary as the doors closed behind him. She could no longer help him. All she could do was hope he hadn’t stumbled on her prison by accident. Reluctantly, Carmen turned away, and swam back to the surface. The piranhas stayed behind, until they realised the whale had left them behind, and quickly caught up.

Chapter Text

Was this it? Through that large, pristine door was just a tall, thin chamber, with only three blue lums for decor. Rayman looked up, expecting to see some kind of water surface to emerge from. There was none. He looked down, and saw the same sea-green surface below him. Was this a dead end? Did something happen to the Sanctuary? He turned, but was met with the door slamming swiftly shut, defying the ocean’s drag. He was trapped.

Or was he? A tremor ran through the empty chamber, spinning Rayman around a little. Cracks formed in the edges, as the walls slowly drifted apart, revealing a black, starry void beyond them. Even the doors drifted apart, revealing nothing beyond them. Rayman wasn’t sure what was happening to the water, but he could feel regular physics fast returning. He wasn’t floating anymore. He was falling.

A true hero always adapts to the unexpected, Ly had once said to him. When everything is thrown into disarray, clear your mind and reassess your situation. With those words in his head, Rayman tried looking where he was falling. A sloped surface was rushing to meet him. With only centimeters to spare, he righted himself and landed on his feet, bracing to slide wherever this surface took him.

Two pillars watched Rayman’s descent from the bottom. Nothing else waited for him beyond that. As he approached, however, the doors flew overhead, slotting into the pillars like a makeshift jamb. When they swung open, another sloped surface met him beyond that, although it took him to the right instead. From this side, it was hard to really know where it took him. At any rate, he couldn’t choose not to jump through the abstract doorway, could he?

A thin trail of lums met him on the other side, guiding him safely to a rail at the slope’s tip. His momentum slowed as he reached it, a welcome break before inertia would inevitably take him along. From here, he could see a small island beyond the slope, although the gap between him and it was probably too wide to leap across. He reached the end, looking around for something safe to hop to instead. There wasn’t anything. With panic coursing through him, Rayman leapt.

For a while, momentum kept Rayman going. Then, as he suspected, it started dragging him down. Just an inch below that island, and another. From here, he could see the waterfall that ran up from it, coming from a small altar he would never get to. This was it. All he was heading for now was the starry infinite of this Sanctuary.

Then, he heard a tinkling. A purple lum rose into view. On instinct, Rayman threw his fist at it, connecting immediately. His rapid descent still continued, but now he was connected to something. His momentum slowly arced him forwards, then up, until he was level with the island, then inches above it. He let go of the lum, and spun above the island, landing with a little cartwheel. He’d done it. He had reached the Sanctuary. “Thank you,” he said to the lum, giving it a wave.

Ahead, he could see another slope. This time, he was at the bottom, and the altar was at the top, where a large, triangular shape floated, flexing his arms. “Who is it,” they boomed, “that dares disturb the tranquility of this place?”

Rayman stared, a little stumped. Was this the Mask of Madness’ guardian? “Uh, but…” he stammered, “I’m Rayman.” Above him, the purple lum flew across the slope. Followed by another, and another.

“Rayman?” said the figure, watching the purple lums take formation. “The name means nothing to me. What do you want?”

“I have to gather the Four Masks to bring Polokus back,” said Rayman. “Please, sir. This is our last chance to chase the Pirates away.”

“How am I to know that you’re not simply a thief?” The figure descended the waterfall. His face was crudely engraved into a triangular pyramid, floating above half a bulky torso, designed to clobber anyone or anything in his way. “My name is Axel,” he said, “and only your strength and bravery can convince me of your intent. Prepare to fight!”

The fight began with Axel summoning a long, pointed icicle, which he launched towards Rayman like a javelin, travelling with a loud crackle. It was easy enough to dodge, and earned a pellet back from Rayman. Unfortunately, dodging that was even easier. All the guardian had to do was either fly back to the altar, which the pellet wouldn’t even reach, or simply float out of the projectile’s way. There’s no way I can hurt him directly, he realised. Maybe there’s something else I can hurt him with.

From where he stood, Rayman was quite powerless. Safe, but powerless. He leapt for the nearby purple lum, and started swinging up the slope. “I see shelter from my attacks is not enough for you!” Axel jeered. “Perhaps this will make you reconsider.” He watched the limbless being carefully, as he leapt from one purple lum to another. As he reached the peak of a swing, ready to jump to the next point, he was met with an icicle clean in the face. The magic chain broke, and Rayman landed face-first on the slope, and painfully slid back to the bottom. “Determination alone won’t win wars,” said Axel.

The water softened Rayman’s descent a little, dripping off his nose as he climbed up. Axel was right. Just gunning straight for him was going to end the same way. If he only ever focused on the purple lum in front of him, he was opening himself up to the same pain. “Clear your mind, and reassess the situation,” he told himself. Was there anything he could use to distract Axel? An idea occurred to him, and he took to the lums again. “Ha! Stubbornly clinging to your methods,” Axel taunted. “You won’t stand a chance against the true enemy.” He prepared another icicle and launched it.

Then, suddenly, Rayman’s swing angle changed, and he jumped back to the lum beneath that, dodging the projectile quite cleanly. He was adapting to his pattern. “Well, impressive,” he conceded, “but do not think this fight will be won by simply avoiding my attacks.” He waited as Rayman climbed back to where he was before throwing another icicle. This time, he angled his swing a little closer, narrowly missing it.

In truth, Rayman was stalling. Directly approaching Axel was suicide. When his swing peaked, he surveyed the altar where the guardian waited. It looked frosted over, and parts of the waterfall had frozen up. Including a large, icy stalactite waiting right above his pointy head. A-ha. That was it. As long as Axel didn’t move, that was the key.

One more purple lum stood between Rayman and Axel. He hooked it, knowing full well how things would go if he didn’t land this. And he hadn’t received another green lum since skiing with Ssssam. He could not afford to be sent that far back. “Fool!” the guardian bellowed. “You think approaching me head-on will end in victory?” This time, he didn’t even bother with an icicle, and simply threw a punch. Rayman pivoted just a little, so he wouldn’t fly straight into the guardian’s torso.

At the swing’s peak, he broke free, rose just a few inches higher, and threw a pellet at the icicle. “Of course I do!” he declared, watching as the icicle slammed down, shattering Axel’s head. His body spun around in pain and confusion, before dissipating in a plume of steam. Rayman grabbed a purple lum before he could slide all the way back down, and hung from the bottom with a satisfied smile.

“Well done,” whispered Axel’s voice in the ether. “You have proven your worth, Rayman. Go, collect the Mask of Madness.” The waterfall receded to nothing, revealing a dark path beneath it. Rayman reached the path, landing on a thin coating of snow and ice, which made navigating the path a little tricky.

On the other end, Rayman arrived in a small grotto, with a small hill at the centre of it overlooked by the starry abyss. The air here was even colder than the waters of Carmen’s cove. For all he knew, he was still in that water, in some weird way. At the top, a small, cubic pillar slid open on his approach. A blue face rose from beneath, grinning mischievously as Rayman watched. Nervously, he grabbed it with both hands. It felt utterly cold to the touch. A strange magic flowed from the Mask of Madness, covering Rayman’s body until he disappeared in a harsh crackle.

The pillar slid shut. A gentle snow began to fall in the grotto. “You will go where few in existence have gone,” said Axel, watching from the stars.

Chapter Text

He was still holding the Mask when he rematerialised. That was to say, Rayman hadn’t immediately noticed that he wasn’t in the Sanctuary. Slowly, he noticed the thick tree, then the dewy grass underfoot, then the vast ocean overlooked by a cratered moon. As he examined his new surroundings, shaking the Mask in confusion, he noticed a pillar similar to the one from the grotto. Atop it, somebody met the moon’s gaze. “Welcome,” said a voice, coming at Rayman from all directions. “I am Polokus, the Spirit of the World.”

Rayman walked up a small hill to the pillar, getting a better look at Polokus’ body. For such a powerful entity, his body was rather squat; he looked like a frog wearing striped pants with a belt, along with a tall, pink hat. His long arms reached out into the ether, as though channeling something he couldn’t see or feel. “Uh, hi there,” Rayman said. “Ly said-”

“I see you have brought the first of my Four Masks,” Polokus continued, cutting Rayman off. He couldn’t see the Spirit’s face from here, but his voice didn’t sound like it came from his body. “While I am aware of your world’s plight, I am incorporeal and unable to directly help you.” Rayman walked around the pillar, seeing Polokus’ shrivelled face, almost entirely hidden by the brim of his hat. “But if you bring me the last Three Masks, I will return, and help you fight the Pirates.”

His face didn’t react when Rayman approached. Yet his arms moved on their own, picking the Mask from his floating hands, and clicking it into a small slot in the pillar. It shuffled around a bit, before settling into place. The eyes glowed a fierce blue, almost blinding Rayman. As he shielded his eyes, he noticed a crazed grin on Polokus’ face, which turned neutral as the glow faded. “The Mask of Madness,” he said. “To create a world, you must cherish its inherent chaos. Only then can you attempt to respond to it.”

“So,” Rayman asked, unsure what else to say, “where can I find the other Three Masks?”

Polokus’ hands began twirling, crafting a portal out of the surrounding energy. “Seek your fallen friends,” the Spirit said. “They will guide you on your path.” The portal descended upon Rayman, swallowing his body bit by bit. “Be strong,” he instructed. “Our world’s destiny is in your hands.” The portal swallowed Rayman’s shoes, and melted into the grass. Once again, the great Spirit’s body was catatonic. “I hope your trip proves enlightening,” he said with a gentle chuckle.

A voice drifted in his head.

You are naive to the world you’re destined to save. Few know the true meaning or purpose of lums.

The voice, or voices, didn’t pronounce it as “luhm.” They made it sound more like “illumination.”

The yellow lums you have gathered are fragments of the Heart of the World, broken by the Pirates. They contain universal knowledge. Here, in the space outside your world, they pass their knowledge to you.

Were those the lums? Were they talking to him?

First, you must know that the universe is made of energy. Everything that moves around you, everything that lives and thinks is given life by the tiny magical lights which you call lums.

There are six types of lums. The most important ones are the yellow lums. Even separated from the Heart of the World, they give knowledge, and can open doors to unknown places. They are life itself.

Then there are red lums. Full of vital energy, they can prolong your life. Pirates love them, and use them for fuel. They are mischievous, and full of untapped potential. If one is frightened, it will turn into a black lum, full of malice. Only laughter can restore its innocence.

Purple lums assure the cohesion of the world. Without them, nothing would be solid or visible. They connect your energy to the world around you. Even Ssssam’s scarf has a purple lum tucked inside.

Blue lums contain the first breath. They are the origin of all life in this world. Each creature receives at birth his blue lums, and keeps them until the day they die.

Green lums contain memories. They keep the record on past events, carrying the memory on when there’s nobody left to remember. If they need to, they can rewrite events by changing the memory.

And finally, there are Silver Lums. The most precious of all, these rare lums contain a great power, and only a select few can hone that power. The Pirates dream of controlling that power. Thankfully, they have not succeeded.

The voices began to drift apart. Rayman’s consciousness was returning.

This is all we can tell you. Hurry and rescue our siblings, Rayman.

When he came to, he was lying on a rock, atop a cliff overlooking a forest. Compared to the ambient silence of Polokus’ domain, this was a little more mundane. Birds cawed, insects scurried, and children played nearby. Rayman turned and saw Globox’s village right behind him, filled with baby Glutes and observing Teensies, overseen by the odd fairy here and there. “Oh, Rayman!” Murfy cried, emerging from a cottage roof. “You made it, at last!”

“Rayman?” the children said, realising their dad’s friend was right nearby. “Rayman!” they cheered, picking him up from the rock. “Rayman saved the village!”

“Er, thanks,” said Rayman, his head still swimming. Their clumsy hands didn’t help with that. “Still haven’t found your father yet, sorry.”

“Oh, daddy,” they muttered, before suddenly dropping him as the urge to cry hit them all at once. Three crying Glutes was deafening enough, but a whole village’s worth? Rayman tried to calm them, but his words were swallowed whole by their sobs. Eventually, it summoned a large, pink Glute, practically Globox’s twin. “Ey,” she bellowed. “That’s enough bawling for one day, you lot.”

The children stopped crying, almost in unison. “We’re sorry, mommy,” they said softly, before uneasily returning to their games.

Their mother sighed, before turning to Rayman with an exhausted smile. This was Uglette, Globox’s partner. “Ey up, Raymond,” she said. “T’village is almost back t’normal thanks t’you.”

“Er, it’s Rayman,” he replied meekly, knowing there was no point. “Listen, have you seen Ly around?”

“Aye, that daftie,” she said with a laugh. “Naw, haven’t seen her, like. Don’t s’pose she and t’fairies are creating another o’ya to defeat the Pirates faster, eh?”

“We don’t know the fairies created me,” said Rayman, trying not to sound hurt. She made it sound like he was replaceable. “They just found me. Not the same thing.”

“On t’beach, aye?” Uglette asked. “Ye just washed up, like.”

“Well yeah,” muttered Rayman, not sure how relevant this was. “Listen, Uglette, you wouldn’t happen to know where the Four Masks of Polokus are, would you?”

“Oh, masks?” said Uglette. “Funny you mention tha’. I do remember seeing summat like a mask around Gloomy Island.” She stopped smiling. “Unfortunately, the Pirates took it over to use for mines.” Her eyes started to well up. “And, and, they got some o’my children to work in ‘em!” She sank to her bottom and sobbed, filling the ground around her with tears. “I still ‘aven’t seen me darling, Globox,” she wailed.

“It’s okay, Uglette,” Rayman said softly. “I’ll rescue your family as soon as I can.”

“Wouldn’t recommend going there yet,” said Murfy. “The world may rest on your nonexistent shoulders, but you’re gonna need help getting into Pirate territory.” He beamed. “Lucky for you, they’re keeping Clark in a nearby stronghold.”

Now there was a name Rayman hadn’t heard in ages. “Clark?” he repeated excitedly. “They wouldn’t keep him down without a fight. How do I find him?”

“Clark is in the Menhir Hills,” said the Teensie monarchy, startling Rayman with their arrival. They stood in a row now, passing the crown to whoever stood in front. “I also hear rumours they’ve found the Second Mask. Even if they can’t have it for themselves, they will do all in their power to keep you out.” The crown was passed to the next in line, carrying the conversation with him. “Releasing Clark should distract them enough to get you there safely.”

He created a portal in his hand, throwing it onto the rock Rayman woke up on. “And Uglette,” he said, “we have reason to believe Globox is being held not far from Clark.”

Uglette perked up, then launched at Rayman. “RAYMAN, YOU’VE GOT TO SAVE HIM!” she screamed, holding him above her head. “I’VE LOST COUNT OF HOW MANY CHILDREN WE HAD TOGETHER! TAKING CARE OF THEM ON MY OWN IS GOING TO BE IMPOSSIBLE WITHOUT HIM!”

“Er, sure,” said Rayman, his ears ringing. “Could you, uh, put me down?”

“THAT’S NOT FAST ENOUGH!” Uglette shrieked, instead throwing Rayman into the portal like a javelin. The portal shrank away as he vanished into it. Uglette stood there for a few seconds, fuming, waiting for her heart to ease. Then, she turned to the Teensie monarchs and Murfy. “Until he gets back,” she said, “I’m gonna need someone to mind the kids.”

The Teensies fled before she’d even finished talking. Murfy tried to fly away, but her attention was on him now. If he had a window to escape, it had locked shut. “Gah, Ly,” he whined. “You better get that Silver Lum ready soon.”

Chapter Text

The portal opened in a large clearing, with a similarly large tree at the centre of it. To say Rayman hopped out of said portal would be an understatement. Instead, he shot straight out of it, flew straight into the tree’s branches with a loud crack. The impact left him dazed and a little wounded, but also gave him a great vantage point of the surrounding environment. There was a Pirate base not far from there, with a path filled with thorny vines bridging the distance.

Thorny vines? There was no way he’d be able to cross that on his own. Out of curiosity, Rayman leapt, spinning his hair to slow his descent. Could he cross it from the top of that tree? He tried, but about halfway towards the ground, he quickly realised his momentum wasn’t even going to take him midway across the thorns, and he quickly backed away. Was there anything in the immediate surroundings he could use to cross? Besides a springy mushroom sat by the tree, nothing really stood out to him.

Then, he heard a whinny, accompanied by the rising approach of tapping feet. The sound was coming from the thorny path. Rayman turned, and saw a yellow missile on legs running towards him. He threw a pellet at it, but the coming projectile simply hopped aside. It was gunning straight for him, despite seemingly having no eyes. He had no choice but to run from it. The shell, for all its speed, struggled to close the distance. Whenever it inched even slightly closer, all it took was a sudden turn to widen that gap ever so slightly. He didn’t know exactly what the endgame was of this pursuit, but he hoped it didn’t involve being blown up.

The chase ended abruptly with the skidding of heels against the dirt. Rayman kept running, of course, until he realised that the shell wasn’t directly behind him anymore. Instead, it was standing by the tree; knees buckling, its tip nodding up and down as it panting for breath. Had he tired it out? Nervously, he approached it, hands raised in the air. “Uh, hi there,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re not going to attack me anymore, are you?” The large Pirate insignia on its back did nothing to win his confidence.

The shell looked up at him feebly, as though disappointed in itself. There wasn’t anything malicious about its body language, Rayman noticed. It simply looked like it wanted to please. “It’s okay,” he said gently, patting it on its flank. Luckily for him, this didn’t detonate it. To be precise, it seemed to like the sensation. An idea came to Rayman, crazy as it was. “Could you,” he asked, “take me to where your masters are?”

The shell responded with a leap and an excited whinny, before running one lap around Rayman, stopping in front of him with its back bowed to him. Its engine was still smoky, but the gesture was clear. Rayman hopped onto the shell’s back, holding on as it bucked a couple of times, and it took off.

There was an unusual spring to the shell’s step. Whenever the ground underfoot sloped, even a little, the shell would carry on over it, until the ground finally met it again. Unfortunately for Rayman, the path across the thorny vines was very bumpy, forcing him to hold onto his vessel’s undercarriage with enough force to dent the metal, or worse, throw its angle off even more than it already was. It came dangerously close to smacking clean into a blackened tree.

Luckily for both parties, the base was dead ahead. Unluckily, the door was sealed shut, with a large, crude bandage holding the rusted metal together. “Hold on,” Rayman said to the shell. “Maybe I can bust it open with my fist.” It wasn’t going to work, he suspected, but maybe he could think of something. However, when they crossed the thorns, the shell suddenly bucked Rayman off. He rolled onto the grass, and looked at the shell in confusion. It bowed before him, then turned towards the door. “Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, as its engine began to fire up.

With one last whinny, the shell charged straight into the door, shattering it in a smoky explosion. “NO!” Rayman cried, stunned by his new ally’s sacrifice. He’d only known him for three minutes, and now he was gone. He waited for the lump in his heart to sag, before heading inside. The last thing he wanted was for the shell’s last action to be in vain.

The base was surprisingly quiet. Rayman looked around constantly, expecting to face off against several Pirates at once, but no such ambush was sprung. The hallways were spartan. Seats sat with only cracks in the leather to prove they’d ever been used. Machines hummed along like nothing had happened. Even the cages, the ones still intact, were empty. “What happened here?” he asked himself. When the silence was broken by some metallic clanging, it almost came as a relief to him.

Rayman followed the sound down a winding staircase, to a wide room deep in the base. The closer he drew, the quieter the clanging became, until it was reduced to a pathetic tinkle. The urgency in his run turned into confusion and curiosity. It sounded like something, or someone, was attacking several Pirates at once. When he entered the room, he found out what had happened. A hook hung from the farthest wall, ripped from its body. A second was wedged in the ceiling above a Pirate’s lower torso, perhaps the most intact piece remaining. At least until its spinal bolt unscrewed and rolled across the floor, where a large, muscular man with an equally large chin sat, dazed. “Clark!” Rayman exclaimed. “So it was you who wiped out all these Pirates.” He looked at the nearby metal pile, trying to guess how many had gone against him. “Only twenty against you?” he deduced. “They didn’t stand a chance.”

Clark looked up lethargically from his corner in the room. A few oil spots marred his leather jacket, and his bare soles were almost black with dirt. “Hu… hello, little buddy,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You wanna arm wrestle?” He raised a bulky hand as he spoke. Even in his weakened state, he knew he’d win against Rayman.

“Hey, you don’t look so good,” Rayman replied, as Clark’s arm slumped back to the ground. “Are you hurt?”

“I must have swallowed something bad for me,” said Clark, gazing weakly at his comparatively clean friend. “To get better, I need some Life Potion. You can only find it in the Marshes of Awakening, in a place called the Cave of Bad Dreams.”

That sounded ominous, but also vaguely familiar. “Is it in that weird tree with the skull out front?” Rayman asked, remembering that morbid sight beyond the torch.

Clark nodded. “Don’t forget that name, or else the guard won’t let you pass,” he warned. “A Teensie left a portal for me as he escaped, but it’s too small.” With his other hand, he pointed to a small hole in the wall, filled by a portal. “It’ll take you wherever you want it to.”

“The Cave of Bad Dreams,” said Rayman, trying to remember the Marshes as best as he could. “I won’t forget.” He turned and made for the portal. “Hang in there Clark, I’ll go and get the elixir as fast as I can!” He ran and rolled into the portal, which closed behind him.

“Tha… thanks, little buddy,” croaked Clark, trying his best to stay awake. In all honesty, he didn’t think this thing he’d swallowed, whatever it was, was going to kill him, but he couldn’t imagine he’d recover from it very fast, if indeed at all. He was stronger than this, darn it, and wouldn’t let some stupid robot gunk get in the way of his strength. He slammed his fist against the ground in frustration, before falling asleep.

Little did he know, this had dislodged the pile of Pirate bodies, revealing a single, still awake Pirate. He realised he was free, climbed out of the pile, and took aim with his gun. “Halt, prisoner!” he snarled. “You’re not going to get me.” Above him, the second severed hook creaked, loosened from the ceiling, before finally falling. It cut through his head, disabling him immediately. And just like that, Clark’s counterattack claimed twenty-one Robo-Pirates.

Chapter Text

The portal dropped Rayman by the small camp he rescued Ssssam from. Without that snake around, the only noise filling the swamp was the chomping of piranhas leaping out of the bog. He made his way across the net, looking out for the tree with the burning torch. Never imagined I’d be coming back here so soon, he thought to himself. Why would the Life Potion be kept somewhere so deadly?

He rounded a corner, and saw that same skull fixed to a pole. Once again, his stomach begged him to turn and run. This time, however, Rayman soldiered on, and entered the small grotto beyond it. The air around him turned still and uneasy. Small eyes bounced across the ground, staring at him intently. His gut’s protests grew louder, but could not dissuade him. In fact, amongst the observing enemies, he noticed a Pirate’s head lying amongst a pile of bones. The Pirates haven’t taken this place after all, he realised.

The ground beneath Rayman’s feet trembled. He stepped back, just as two long, bony arms clawed their way up, planted their palms between the bones, and forced something out into the open air. It wore a tall, pink hat, wider than Polokus’, with a single orange eye and a fanged jaw. “So you return,” he snarled. When his hands returned to him, he held the pole with the skull, actually more of a staff the way he held it. “Your curiosity led you here before. What brings you back?”

“Please sir,” said Rayman, bowing before this grotesque caricature of Polokus’ form, “it’s my friend. He’s terribly sick, and needs an elixir to recover.”

“I can read your mind,” the guardian growled. “What you’ve told me matches what you’re thinking.” His face softened a bit. “You also know the name of this place.” He held his staff above Rayman’s head, pointing its eye sockets straight at Rayman. “You are now ready to enter the Cave of Bad Dreams.” His gaze hardened again. “But, before you come in, I must tell you something.”

“What’s that?” asked Rayman, gazing up at the skull’s sockets. There was something weirdly transfixing about them. He couldn’t look away.

“I have hidden a precious treasure inside,” said the guardian. “You can keep it for yourself, if you beat me to it.” As he spoke, Rayman couldn’t feel the ground anymore. He wasn’t even gazing at the skull’s eyes anymore. All of a sudden, he was nowhere, falling into nothingness while the voice kept talking. “I’ll give you a head start, but don’t waste any time! If I catch you, I’ll show you no mercy…”

His consciousness faded after that.

When Rayman came to, he was standing on a long, curved spinal column, stretching across a rancid, cloudy river. Looking at it closer, he could see the vague forms of lost souls, merging into one another and splitting apart. An immense sense of unease overcame him; there was a reason the Pirates hadn’t taken this place. When the column ended, hands carried him along the river on giant skulls, which in turn led him to mouds of bones that collapsed as he climbed across them.

Was any of this real? As soon as he reached stable land, he couldn’t help but wonder the metaphysical implications of this ghoulish place. “Have the Pirates killed this many people?” he asked, pretty sure nobody else was listening. “Bad as they were, I thought all they did was just enslave us to be taken to other worlds.”

“This place is not where the dead go to rest,” said the guardian’s voice, echoing through the cave. “It is the embodiment of Polokus’ despair itself. And since the Pirates’ arrival, this place has grown deeper and darker than even I have seen. But only in total darkness can one find the greatest light.” He chuckled. “And if you don’t get a move on, you’ll return to that same dark place your friend Globox found you in.”

Rayman heeded his words and carried on. A tunnel took him away from the river, to a wide chamber filled with crawling, cloudy caterpillars. A gate stood at the other end, looking exactly like the guardian’s face. Even the eye blinked from time to time. Beneath its fangs, two tiny green creatures, also in the guardian’s image, hopped impatiently, as if waiting for a fight.

“Halt, interloper!” the left one rasped at Rayman. “In Jano’s name, we won’t let you any deeper in this cave.”

“Yeah!” the right one added. “Beyond this door lies the deeper, darker parts of the cave, as Jano mentioned.”

Was that the guardian’s name? “I have to pass,” Rayman insisted. “My friend’s life depends on it!”

“Then show us you can handle it, Rayman!” the mini guardians yelled in unison, darting around him. The left one threw fireballs at him, while the right hopped closer to get a bite out of his hair. Rayman stunned the first with a pellet, and hit the second with a sudden uppercut. Unlike the Pirates, these foes were happy to get up close to attack him, and deserved to be countered appropriately.

The first recovered from his daze pretty quickly, and lunged at Rayman while he dealt with the second. Unfortunately for him, the limbless hero caught his flailing right arm in his hand, and quickly swung him into his companion, bowling them across the chamber. Their bodies dissolved into smoky clouds as they flew, and their attack ceased. “You may pass,” their bodiless voices whispered in the air.

Slowly, the gate’s mouth creaked open, the eyeball staring at Rayman as he approached. A dark, formless hole waited inside, inviting him down. “This is what I fought for,” he reminded himself, jumping in. The caterpillars watched idly as he entered the gate, and as it closed behind him with a loud smack.

The cave he landed in was narrow and sloped, with a few skull poles marking the point where dry land ended, and a green slime slide began. Rayman tiptoed up to it, surveying the ride ahead. A few sharp crystals awaited him, though they looked reasonably brittle. As he surveyed the situation, he heard a crawling sound behind him. He turned, and saw the enraged face of Jano, looming towards him. “Your trip ends here, hero!” he screamed.

Rayman panicked and ran down the slide. He almost lost his footing, regaining it just before he could smack into a stone column, and be slowed down. He smashed crystals as they passed, hopped across chasms as they approached, all the while Jano loomed closer and closer. Or did he? Rayman turned to see, but slammed into a crystal mound before he could get a good look. The blow slowed him down, and he had to lean into his descent to get away.

Towards the end, the slide curved to the left, with only endless darkness watching from the right. Rayman constantly adjusted his stance, trying to follow the curve, until it took him into a dark tunnel. Even the green slime vanished from view upon entry, but he felt it suddenly turn into dry, flat rock once more. He staggered a bit, but broke into a run, following the winding tunnel left and right, as Jano’s jaws snapped behind him.

Something shone up ahead. As Rayman rounded the corner, he found himself in a golden room, filled with piles upon piles of gold coins and crystals. All at once, the fear in his heart turned into wonder, and he walked in more slowly. Even the few skulls lining the treasure couldn’t dampen his sudden good mood. “Yeesss,” he whispered, wondering what he could do with all that money. “Unbelievable.”

A gold coin rolled by Rayman’s feet. He picked it up, gazing at his reflection in its face. Curious, he turned and saw Jano lying humbled on a pile by the entrance. “You have defeated me,” he said, not sounding too upset about it. “My treasure is yours.” He gestured to everything in the room. “Yes, even one pile holds more value than the Pirates’ entire treasury.” He dug into the pile with both hands, and reached out with a coin mound clasped between his fingers. “Take whatever you want.”

Rayman gazed at it, then at the coin in his hands. Already, he could see himself lying on a desert island, fat and napping, numbly watching the waves crash by. That would be it. That would be him made for life. It might even keep him away from the Pirates’ invasion. He’d never need to worry about anything, or anyone, ever again. And yet, it reminded him that he was worried about something. Someone other than himself. And he came here for that person. He dropped the coin from his palm, and turned to Jano. “No treasure for me,” he said.

Jano’s palms split open, dropping all the coins across the floor. “Interesting choice,” he said, as a sudden wave of fatigue and nausea hit Rayman. The last thing he could remember was watching the guardian fold his arms, watching him drift asleep.

When he woke up, he was still standing in that morbid grotto, his memories of that gold chamber fast fading. Jano took the skull staff away from his gaze. “You’ve made the right decision,” he said, audibly smiling. “That’s what separates you from those who seek to harm this world.” The skull was lowered to Rayman’s arms, revealing a small hole inside containing a green liquid. “This is the Elixir of Life. Guard it cautiously.”

Rayman took the skull from his hands, wondering what just happened. “Will this help my friend?” he asked, only able to remember coming here to heal Clark.

“Your friend ingested some Pirate oil,” said Jano, spinning a portal between his fingers. “One sip of that, and he will be back to his regular self.” He dropped the portal onto Rayman, taking the elixir with it. “Once again, I’ll give you a head start,” he said, as the hero left the Marshes. He smiled to himself. “Only someone free from Polokus’ vices could make such a decision,” he muttered, before returning to the ground below.

Chapter Text

When the portal dematerialised, Rayman found himself outside the Pirate base, elixir in hand. The sun, by this point, was halfway up the sky. It was hard to say how many days had passed since his initial escape. Being warped from place to place only made days and nights bleed into each other. Luckily for him, the passage gave his body the rest it needed, so there wasn’t much need for sleep. That wasn’t to say he didn’t miss a nice nap, but it kept him focused on the mission at hand. Or in hand, he supposed, gazing at the elixir.

For something from the Marshes of Awakening, it looked appropriately thick and slurry, with some bubbles rising from it. It looked like the last thing he should give to anybody, except maybe an unsuspecting Pirate. Speaking of which, would they have launched a counterattack by now? The gate inside was still busted wide open, luckily for him.

Unluckily for him, it wasn’t empty this time. He was observing the hallway leading into Clark’s “cell,” speaking into a wired headset. “I counted twenty-one bodies,” he rasped. “He’s currently in a weakened state. If we attack him all at once, he will surely surrender.” Silence, as he listened to whoever was on the other end. Rayman hid behind a throne, watching him. A direct confrontation wasn’t an option with the elixir in hand. “No, he’s not dying,” he added. “A dead slave is no good to us, or outer worlds.”

Rayman pinned himself to the throne, trying to stay quiet. Was that Pirate going to move? The elixir was still bubbling, and sloshed loudly whenever his hands shook. Was there any way he could draw him away? There were some machines near the thrones, still thrumming along. He threw a kick into it, trying to hold the skull steady. The resulting clang shook his grip a little, spilling some of the sludge on the floor.

“Who goes there?” the Pirate roared. “There are soldiers coming here any second now. If you know what’s best for you, show yourself.” Rayman watched between the thrones as the Pirate walked away from the hallway, with his one eye facing directly towards him. Then, he disappeared behind the throne nearest the machines. Now was his chance. He left the safety of shadows, and sprinted into the hallway. “HALT!” the Pirate bellowed behind him, firing in his direction.

The room looked as lifeless as when he’d left it. Pirate bodies still littered the floor, and Clark still sat semi-conscious in a corner. “Here, Clark,” said Rayman softly, “here’s the Life Potion you asked for.”

Clark forced his right hand into action, clumsily grabbing the elixir from Rayman’s hands. “Thanks little buddy,” he whispered, holding it up to his lips. A lot of it spilled on his chin, but enough of it got into his mouth. Within two seconds, his eyes went from strained and semi-closed, to wide open and full of life. His mouth opened in a relieved grin. “YAHOOO!” he cheered, sweeping Rayman into his hands. “Now I can go and crush a bunch more Pirates!”

“Cool!” said Rayman, a little taken aback. “In fact, there are some coming for this very base.” He looked down at Clark’s hands. “But put me down first, okay?”

Clark did as he was told, gently setting Rayman aside. “This room looks like a dead-end, don’t you think?” he said cheekily. “How’s about we open it up!” With that, he charged towards the opposite wall, spreading his arms wide, and ploughed straight through it. “YEEEEEAH!” The shape left behind was perfectly Clark-shaped, and Rayman fit neatly through it. Behind him, he heard a chorus of stamping feet. The backup had arrived.

Rayman had two options available to him. Either stay and face the Pirates, which didn’t have much benefit beyond the simple pleasure of defeating them individually, or flee with Clark, and focus on finding the Second Mask. He needed no persuasion to choose the latter option, and ran through the Clark-shaped hole. It led him into a different hallway, seemingly disconnected from the rest of the base. “What’s with this place?” he asked himself.

“Lousy design, ain’t it?” said Clark cheerfully, waiting for his friend to catch up. He stood before a thin, iron gate that stood in the way. “It’s like they just dump rooms on top of each other, and worry about navigating them after.” He chuckled. “Whoever put this gate here, though, they were smart.”

“Can’t you run through it?” asked Rayman, casting a nervous glance at the Clark hole. The shadows of Pirates were beginning to take shape.

“No way, Rayman,” said Clark, tapping the iron with his finger. “I wouldn’t even be able to pull this open without cutting my palm open.” He shuddered, then looked around. A small alcove hid just above him. “Hey, see if you can find a switch in there, will you, buddy?” He reached up to the alcove, inviting his friend to climb up.

“Sure thing,” Rayman replied, running up Clark’s arm. His palm stopped just meters of the alcove, but a simple jump resolved that. There wasn’t a switch there, unfortunately. There was, however, a small shaft that led into the next room. (Along with a caged Teensie, who was swiftly freed.) He hopped through, turned and saw the switch right next to the gate. It opened soon after.

Clark wasn’t looking at the gate, however. His back was turned to Rayman, and though it was hard to see anything past him, the metallic whirring and crescendo of stamping feet said everything. “Thanks for the help, Rayman,” he said softly. He didn’t sound at all concerned about the Pirates facing him. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Halt, slave!” barked a Pirate. “You and your friend’s escape ends here!”

“Oh, speaking of slaves,” said Clark, glancing over his shoulder, “I hear Globox is being kept in some nearby woods.” There was a relaxed smile on his face. This was going to be a very one-sided confrontation.

“Give them all you’ve got!” said Rayman, turning and fleeing. What followed was the melodic sounds of guns, fisticuffs and crashing metal. It brought a smile to his face, which lasted all the way to the end of the hallway, where another ventilation shaft waited for him. He hopped down, without looking back once. It spat him out in a small creek, where a yellow shell sat, seemingly sleeping.

Needless to say, the walking weapon was startled by the arrival on its back. After a few half-hearted attempts to buck Rayman off, it started running. It followed the path, as it sloped up a cliff face, leaving the flowing creek behind. Despite the incline, the shell kept running, weaving between fat menhirs to grab a few yellow lums nestled between them. Some toppled, scraping the metal a little.

When the ground plateaued, it led the two across a bridge over misty water. Rayman took this opportunity to relax a little. “Sorry to disturb you like this,” he said, tapping the shell’s flank. It didn’t seem to mind that much. “Would you mind taking me to help my friend?”

The shell responded with a whinny, which he took as a ‘yes.’ Ahead, the bridge returned to a forest path, ending at a cliff overlooking the ramshackle Pirate base. The two stopped and took a break, content to watch as Pirate pieces flew out, walls crashed and entire rooms shook around, as though the entire fortress was reorganising itself from the foundations. The shell made a chortling sound, then turned and carried on running. Ahead, Rayman saw the golden branches of autumnal trees. Where they were going, the season wasn’t going with them.

Chapter Text

The shell ran through a rain of rotting leaves, ricocheting off any shift or pivot in the path as it came. Rayman looked around, keeping an eye out for any Pirate activity. To his surprise, nothing leapt out at him. This didn’t look like the kind of place they would ignore or overlook, yet there were none to be seen. His mount leapt across a large stump, and carried on down a narrow path.

Over time, the ground beneath the shell grew thick with mud, gradually pulling at its momentum. It strained and pushed, but with its speed being sapped at, it was starting to lose balance. When it couldn’t put one foot in front of the other, it swiftly bucked Rayman away before it inevitably fell and exploded. Its rider slipped away, falling down a hole in the ground.

Rayman landed in a dark, narrow cavern, filled only with thin layers of cobweb. Undeterred, he carried on walking, brushing aside whatever web was in his way. He noticed dozens of tiny eyes, watching from the walls, blinking as he passed. Something crunched beneath his feet, and they all stared at him in horror. What did he just step on?

Something dropped behind him, rasping wordlessly. He turned, and saw seven mismatched, misshapen eyes staring at him, with what he could only imagine was anger. Stepping into the light, Rayman saw its six black, hairy legs, along with its crazed, fanged mouth, advancing closer to him. The ground ended suddenly behind him, almost dropping into an endless abyss. Luckily, a webbed wall awaited him just to the right. He leapt and climbed across it, knowing full well the spider could navigate it more easily than he could.

He wove and scrambled across a cylindrical chamber, likely a hollowed-out tree, collecting lums along the way, all the while watching the spider’s advance. On the other end, the path continued, taking him back to the woods. He climbed the web, getting higher and higher… and then the web suddenly ended. Directly facing his way out, Rayman found himself trapped, left to wait while the spider caught him.

At least, that was what the spider hoped. Instead, as it watched, its would-be prey/egg smasher leapt from the web, whirling his hair like a propeller to slow his descent. He landed gracefully on the threshold leading back outside, turning to stare at the spider in amazement. All it could do was protest nonverbally as he ran out of view, and return angrily to its nest. Truth was, it was more angered about the intrusion than the potential death of its young one.

The sound of wind blowing through the trees brought a sense of calm after that near-miss. Rayman walked alone through the autumnal woods, remembering what happened to the shell. This time, he felt more dismayed than horrified about it, though a sense of sorrow definitely lingered as he continued his search.

As luck would have it, his search was coming to a sudden end. The path took him to a cliff facing a small cell, patrolled by two Pirates. He took one by surprise, smashing it before it could really put up a fight. Its more alert comrade fired back, staying safe from a flat mushroom growing out of stone. Winning that fight took more attrition than skill. When it finally fell, it took the stale mushroom with it.

But who was in the cell? A nearby sign mentioned how they were responsible for “the rusting of several brave Robo Pirate comrades” by raindance. Rayman hopped onto a small stone to get a better look.

It was holding Globox. His blubbering, blue buddy. “Globox!” he yelled, throwing a pellet at a nearby switch.

Globox stopped sobbing, turned and saw the gate holding him in cranking open. That was awfully sudden. First he heard his friend’s voice, and now he’s being released? Could it be? He stepped out, shielding his eyes from the late sun rays, listening out for his buddy’s words. “Rayman?” he asked meekly. Could he afford to be wrong?

There he was, on the other side of the crevasse, waving his detached hands around. “Globox!” Rayman cheered, “at last!”

The big Glute laughed, almost in disbelief. “Yeah!!” he cried, “Rayman is the greatest!!!” He turned and hopped off the cliff, to a small path where Rayman could reach him. “Rayman get powers from Ly?”

Rayman laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “That and more, my friend,” he said, following the path to a crude laser grid blocking the way. “Just wait till your kids see you now!”

Globox chuckled. “We need to get out of here first,” he said, cracking his tiny fingers. “Globox show you something special.” He ushered Rayman back, and marched close to the lasers. Then, with a throaty chant, he hopped from webbed foot to foot, holding his hands akimbo. As Rayman watched, a small cloud formed over the grid, growing bigger and darker. Then, with a crash of lightning, rain fell from it. The lasers flickered and fizzled, short circuiting. At last, the contraption died and collapsed in on itself, opening the path.

Rayman stared at his friend in wonder. “Incredible!” he remarked. “You perfected the rain dance at last!”

“Globox be locked up for days,” his friend said cheekily. “I use time to practice.” He followed Rayman down the path, springing along merrily. Gradually, the path wound up and around a tree, leading the two to a small natural bridge, with another laser grid at the end. Unfortunately, their arrival was met with a loud crash, as a Pirate Warship suddenly swung into view.

Globox let out a huge scream, and fled back down the path. Rayman stayed, watching as four Pirates leapt down at once. “We got him, boys!” one declared, eliciting a shared chuckle. This time, they had the clear advantage. He turned and followed Globox down the path.

He found his ally trembling inside an alcove. “Stay here,” he instructed softly. “I think I can handle the Pirates.”

Globox turned to glance at Rayman, peeking between his eyes. “Sorry Rayman,” he said meekly, his voice cracking. “Globox too, uh, sick to help with fight.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being scared,” Rayman assured him. “The Warships and Pirates are very dangerous.” He peeked out of the alcove. The Pirates weren’t coming after them. Why would they need to? They practically had the two dead to rights, where they stood. “Oh, if only I had more of my powers,” he thought out loud.

Hearing that snapped Globox out of his panic. “Powers?” he said slowly, turning to Rayman. “Globox forget that!” Like on the Prison Ship, he reached inside his belly and pulled out a Silver Lum, passing it over to Rayman. “Ly give me this, tell me to wait till you save me.” The energy split and flowed into Rayman, coursing into his fists. The fabric in his gloves slowly thickened, turning into solid gold. When it was done, he leapt into the air. “Yahooooo!” he yelled.

“Alright, enough stalling,” someone shouted from inside. “Take ‘em alive, you dogs! Especially Rayman.”

Rayman flashed Globox a knowing smile. “Wanna watch?”

Globox shook his head, looking away as Rayman returned to the bridge to face the impending attack. With each step, he channeled energy into his palm. This time, more energy flowed into it. The pellet grew hotter, larger between his fingers, until it ached to hold it in. “Hands up, cur!” said a Pirate, dressed in red. Rayman did as he was told, releasing the pellet into its head in the process. Their commander was destroyed instantly.

With that, the battle began with an immediate power shift. THe Pirates broke formation, trying to surround Rayman. Whoever came nearest got the next biggest pellet in random limbs, though the power surge destroyed their bodies anyway. In the end, all that was left to take care of was the observing Warship. Even the strongest pellets bounced off its thick, sleek hull, but it didn’t seem interested in fighting him. Instead, it flew overhead, possibly to pass the message on.

“Globox, come look!” Rayman shouted, preparing another pellet. He waited for his friend to join him, watching the Warship’s blazing engines. When he saw his blue buddy trembling around the corner, he threw the energy into the leftmost nozzle. It blew out almost instantly, sending the imposing vessel careening into a nearby cliff, before crumbling dramatically into the void below. He looked to his left, and saw Globox stare at the spectacle in awe.

“Rayman’s back to full strength,” he stated, as if he couldn’t believe it himself. When it finally clicked, he picked Rayman up and gave him the biggest hug he could. “RAYMAN IS BACK!!!”

“Ha, yeah!” Rayman replied, hopping back to the floor. “And I’m looking for the Mask of Might. Do you know where it is?”

Ly said Mask nearby,” said Globox. “In fiery gulch past the Canopy.” He ran past Rayman, doing a quick raindance as he moved, destroying the laser grid at the opposite end. “Globox help you, then return to family.”

“Agreed,” said Rayman, following him through. “Uglette’s really struggling to keep them in line.”

Chapter Text

As it turned out, there was a reason the canopy woods were so brown and close to death, compared to the woodlands surrounding it. It was the same reason the path Rayman and Globox took grew hot and humid the further they travelled, and why it was partly filled with small fires the Glute had to put out. It all tied into the reason a large door marked the end of the path, guarded by the four Teensie kings. “Long time no see, Rayman,” said the crown bearer. “Even longer for you, Globox.”

His friend scratched his head sheepishly. “Are Uglette and kids okay?” he asked.

“As long as nobody mentions their daddy, they’re fine,” said the king, passing on the crown. “Must admit, the village is getting cramped. The sooner you take that Second Mask, the sooner we can get everyone into safer land.”

“Can you let us through?” asked Rayman.

The crown was passed on once again. The new king cleared his throat. “Beyond this door lies the Sanctuary of Stone and Fire,” he explained. “Pirates have tried infiltrating it, but they’ve yet to reach the inner sanctum. The Mask is guarded by a stone colossus, named Umber.” He took the crown off, wiped it with his sleeve, then put it back on. The Teensie stood behind him tapped his foot impatiently. “Ly communicated with his spirit,” he concluded, “and he’s ready to help you.”

Rayman let out a sigh of relief. “Hey, at last!” he chuckled, patting Globox on the back. “A good piece of news.”

The Teensies stepped aside, as the door opened on its own. Beyond, a gulch widened into a valley, filled with a river of lava. Rayman surveyed the situation uneasily. “Do you still want to come with me?” he asked Globox. “Even without Pirates, it’s going to be very dangerous.”

Globox hung his head in shame. “Sorry Rayman,” he muttered. “Globox must return to family.” Perhaps one day, before the Pirates attacked, the Glute would be free-spirited enough to join him anywhere. But those days had, for now at least, passed. He waddled over to the Teensie kings, who were preparing a portal. “Thanks for rescuing me, friend,” he said, jumping in.

“You too,” he said, waving him off. The portal dissipated, and Rayman found himself facing the current challenge alone, once again. He had, for a moment, believed he and Globox would be free to take this challenge on together- slapping Pirates into lava, getting lost and collecting all sorts of lums along the way. He stepped up to the gulch, and began his descent.

A small, metal camp sat at the bottom, withstanding the immense heat beneath it. Landing on it, the floor felt pleasantly cold, making it easy enough to concentrate on his immediate surroundings. A Pirate suddenly drilled through the nearby cliff face, greeting Rayman with a bevy of shots, but the limbless man was (mostly) ready for them. He darted around, firing powered pellets at his foe. This one, however, was agile. For every blow that struck, he’d simply sidestep or dig through the metal to avoid another. Holes were left in the base when he retreated, and as the battle dragged on, Rayman felt the ground beginning to shift. “Stop!” he cried. “You’re damaging the construct!”

“A worthy sacrifice for your defeat,” the armoured Pirate said to himself. As he spoke, the floor started to tilt, the metal buckling into the lava. Rayman wasted no time climbing a spiral staircase nearby, looking for some safe land to glide to. The Pirate’s priorities were unchanged, however. His prey’s flight was peppered with misdirected shots, none of them landing. When he reached a cave entrance, he heard the metal creak and collapse behind him. “This isn’t over!” the Pirate shouted at him. “That Mask will never be yours!”

Rayman turned, but couldn’t see the Pirate anywhere. All he could see was a metal mound, melting into the magma. Clearly he’d escaped that fate. He turned and carried on running, heading deeper into the cave. After all that, he still hadn’t got inside the Sanctuary proper. Surely this would take him to its entrance? If it did, the long stretch of lava ahead of him wasn’t going to make reaching the end easy.

Fortunately for him, a large, purple plum hung from a branch, protruding through the rock. It looked weirdly familiar to him. He couldn’t remember seeing it anywhere else in the Glade of Dreams, but he recognised its distinct, bulbous form. When he knocked it free, it bounced along the ground, its skin too thick to be splattered by something so minor as a sudden fall. Even that didn’t surprise him. Where had he seen this thing before?

Rayman picked the plum up, carrying it over to the lava. There was no way he’d be able to glide across, but maybe he didn’t have to. This plum was girthy, thick like a stone. Maybe it could survive just long enough in the melting rocks for him to jump across. On instinct, he threw it in. The plum bounced atop of the lava, as though it were solid stone. Somehow, the sheer heat didn’t seem to affect it, besides a mild darkening of its skin. Even when he jumped on, it continued to bounce, even moving forward a few inches when he landed. It got him close enough to the other side to hop across, but still left his mind racing. Just what kind of fruit could bounce across any surface, including molten lava? “That’ll be a question for Ly later,” he decided, running ahead.

The cave ended in a clearing under blue skies, guiding Rayman to a row of broken pillars and a cracked floor, cut off by some shrubbery. It was hard to see what lay beyond that, but he was clearly onto something. He started running across the constructed floor, which buckled under his weight. Before he had time to properly react, it caved in, dropping Rayman into a narrow chamber.

Said chamber overlooked a river of lava, flowing downhill, broken up by patches of magma. Rayman glanced to his right, and saw another plum just waiting for him. He pulled it free from its branch, and looked down the flowing river. The angle wasn’t steep enough for him to comfortably glide down it, which meant his only way down was the most nauseating one imaginable. He took a deep breath, hopped onto the stalk, and nudged it down the river.

The first bounce gave the plum a lot of fast forward momentum. Rayman spread his hands and feet apart, trying desperately to keep his balance as his ride careened wildly downriver. The stem stayed upright throughout, making this much easier than it could’ve been. Patches of harsh magma tore through the lava, threatening to consume the plum if it fell in. With one last bounce, the plum flew away from the river, leaving its distinct red glow behind. Rayman sailed on into the darkness.

Slowly, a light appeared beneath them. They were falling into a wide, stone chamber. The plum descended faster, spinning on descent. As durable as it was, Rayman realised it wasn’t going to survive this. He finally jumped, and watched as it splattered against the ground below. He landed on a large brick above the ground, stood by a tall, thin statue of a man, standing before a road leading into lava. The plum juice spread across the ground, drying in the heat.

With a shudder, the statue began to walk. It didn’t have a neck to turn its head, but its eyes were clearly on Rayman. “Are you the hero Ly spoke of?” he asked. Despite the teeth jutting from his lower jaw, he spoke with a clear, articulate voice.

“Um, yes,” Rayman replied. “I suppose I am.”

“Then hop upon my head,” the colossus instructed, “and I shall take you to the Mask of Might.” Rayman did as instructed, hopping atop his cubic head, and stood firm as he waddled into the lava. “I feel a dark aura in this Sanctuary,” he warned. “A Ninja Henchman, who will not stop until you are either dead or recaptured.” By now, he was waist-deep in lava, submerging deeper. “But he has one weakness. His hook is heavy, and will slow him down.” Now the lava had reached his chin. A staircase was just within reach. “Jump, Rayman!”

Rayman leapt, turning to see the colossus dive into the lava completely. “Thank you, Umber,” he said quietly.

“Be careful, Rayman,” said Umber, his voice barely audible beneath the lava. “The Henchman has set up an ambush at the Mask’s shrine. Prove yourself a better fighter, and it shall be yours.” The voice went quiet. The lava began to flow once again. Rayman turned, prepared a pellet in his palm, and ran up the stairs to the shrine.

Chapter Text

A low rumble filled the ascent into the Mask shrine, receding to the background as he entered the chamber. Rayman still held the powered pellet, feeling the pain course between his fingers. It would not stay contained for much longer, so he needed to find that Henchman fast. Where would he think to spring the trap? The most obvious place would be the pillar at the centre.

“YOU’RE MINE!!” The Henchman screamed suddenly, leaping towards him. Rayman turned, briefly forgetting the pellet in his palm, which went flying harmlessly past his enemy. He jumped out of the way, just as the Pirate rammed his heavy hook right where he’d just stood. It slammed into the ground, cracking the earth beneath it with its weight.

Rayman darted around the Henchman, charging another pellet between both palms. “Here, lemme help you with that,” he announced, launching the combined energy ball with a firm push. It powered straight into its hook, knocking it across the floor. Rather than destroy his body, however, all it seemed to do was merely daze him. He cranked his head up. “Allow me to repay the favour,” he sneered, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Was that it? Had he decided to retreat? It didn’t look like he was truly defeated. Rayman stared at the spot where the Henchman had just landed, before nervously turning back towards the Shrine. He was met with the Henchman’s rusted face, topped with an oily bandana, pointing his gun straight into Rayman’s belly. “I don’t think we were properly introduced,” he said. “My name is Ninjaws, and it is my sworn duty to kill you.”

Rayman stepped back down the stairs uneasily, holding both hands in the air. He considered powering up a pellet, but realised Ninjaws would see him do it. “Doesn’t Razorbeard want me locked up anymore?” he asked.

Ninjaws chuckled menacingly. “You’ve proven you can escape,” he said, preparing to swing his hook again. “You can’t break out if you’re not alive.” He threw the hook down. Sensing his chance, Rayman staggered back, rolling out of harm’s way. Once again, Ninjaws’ weapon wedged into the stone, distracting him.

“Don’t worry,” said Rayman, powering up one last pellet. “I’ll never have to break out again!” He fired it into Ninjaws’ neck, snapping it clean off. The body collapsed immediately, leaving behind only three confused red lums. The head came to rest on the floor by the stairs, teetering off the edge. With what little energy he had left, Ninjaws chuckled.

“Where I failed, my clan will succeed,” he snarled, his voice trailing away with each word, until at last, the head toppled over, and bounced across the stairs into the lava below. The battle, at last, was won. Rayman sat on the stairs for a moment, waiting for his heart to stop pounding. Behind him, he heard stone grinding, followed by the hum of something magical. He turned, and saw the dull, rectangular face of the Mask of Might floating above its podium. He got to his feet and picked it up, gazing into its stoic, unmoving gaze. Then, before he knew it, he was no longer in the Sanctuary of Stone and Fire.

Slowly, Rayman realised he was back in Polokus’ grotto, overlooked by the same moon, now somewhat higher in the air. “You have found the Second Mask,” Polokus declared, drawing his attention to the catatonic-ish body atop the pillar. “Good, Rayman. You are getting closer to your goal. Just two more, and I will return.” His hands took the emotionless face from Rayman’s hands, slotting it into the face east of the Mask of Madness.

“The Mask of Might,” said Polokus, as it turned and twisted into place, its eyes glowing a fierce blue. “With an existence driven by chaos, it inevitably leads to that intangible thing we call power. Physical strength, believed to be the guiding principle of nature. Might makes right, as the lums sometimes say.” His lips were moving as he spoke, although the voice wasn’t concentrated from it yet. “It’s no replacement for kindness, but that would not have won your battle.”

“He said Razorbeard wanted me dead,” said Rayman uneasily. “I thought that if I messed up, I’d be thrown back into the Prison Ship, and have to escape all over again.”

“Razorbeard imprisoned you because he saw you as an annoying pest,” said Polokus, his lips falling numb once more. “Now he’s intimidated by your progress. Each time someone visits his quarters, his grip on your world slips just a little more out of his control. He’s afraid of you, Rayman.” His hands got to work on a portal, lowering it onto the limbless adventurer. “Be careful, the rest of your quest will be even harder!”

The portal melted into the grass, and Polokus was once again alone in his thoughts. “My stray thoughts control everything,” he mused to himself. “Yet my mind always wanders where I don’t want it to.”

You have shown yourself a capable fighter, Rayman.

But your victory over the Pirates will not be won merely by fists and magic. If Ly had not spoken with Umber, you would not have made it this far.

You may wonder, in fact, where your friends even came from. It all begins with Polokus, and Polokus begins with us.

“No it doesn’t,” thought Rayman to himself.

One day, we focused ourselves into thought, and our collective consciousness brought to life the strange and marvellous creature you just spoke with. His power is such that the smallest dream or desire becomes reality.

Polokus decided to use his powers to bring people into the world. He began with the magical beings, and dreamt up the fairies. They are his emissaries. He entrusted them with the protection of the Silver Lums, to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands.

Then, he created the Teensies. Their role is to unveil all the crossings of the world. They know every secret passage, and even the least experienced Teensie you rescue can take you where you need to be. If things had gone as planned, they would help create the first towns of this young world.

Next, Polokus created the simple creatures. First came Clark. His incredible strength proved useful in carving out the landscape, to fold hills into mountainous plains and to deviate the too-impetuous rivers. In a single scuffle, he turned that Pirate base you rescued him from into a new village for the Glutes.

Speaking of which, next were Globox, Uglette and his children. Cute, aren’t they? The wise fairies don’t know what Polokus had in mind when creating them, but he truly used his sense of humour for inspiration. We could all do with a little more whimsy in this world.

Polokus finished his creative efforts by conceiving a multitude of fantastic creatures. Like Murfy, the flying one-volume encyclopedia. Or the horrible Eig - remember him? - who spends his time getting drunk on strange brews in the depths of the marshes.

Now go, Rayman. Further knowledge awaits you.

The Buccaneer hovered over the woodlands. For all the slaves Rayman rescued, the Pirates imprisoned three times as many. Presently, over 50,000 numbered their prison cells. Spyglass got some satisfaction walking through the halls, counting all the blinking eyes and cries for help as each cell filled up. It was more comforting than facing Razorbeard himself, especially with the news he carried.

“What is it?!” the diminutive admiral screamed from his chair.

“Your ferocity,” Spyglass stammered, not wanting to step any closer, “he… he… he already has two Masks! Ninjaws couldn’t stop him!”

Razorbeard swivelled on his chair. “You idiotic fool!” he roared, throwing his hat at Spyglass. It didn’t so much land on his head as cover it entirely. “You know this means he’s going to head deeper into our territory to find the Third Mask, don’t you?” He leapt to his feet, hopping up and down as he spoke. “FILL EVERY CAMP WITH EVERY SOLDIER YOU CAN FIND!” The anger faded, and he sat back down. “The next time you come here, Rayman better be in pieces.”

“Yeph phir,” Phyglaph phtammered, phtaggering out of the room.

“And GIVE ME BACK MY HAT!”

The hat spun pathetically on the ground beneath Razorbeard’s chair. He got on his knees and strained to reach it. It was several meters too low. “This is all your fault, you know,” he snarled, as Spyglass fitted it back on the Admiral’s head. “Tell you what, I’ll give you another chance.”

“You will, your vileness?” Spyglass piped, letting his guard down.

“If you cannot kill Rayman directly, you could always recapture his friends.” Razorbeard tented his fingers together, smiling beneath his sharp facial extension. “That’ll certainly crush his spirit.”

“Uh, absolutely!” Spyglass said, saluting. “Uh, i-including Clark?”

Razorbeard’s smile dropped. His eyes dilated. Slowly, he lowered his gaze into Spyglass, reducing his pathetic messenger into an even more pathetic crouch. “What do you mean,” he said, enunciating each syllable, “ including Clark?”

What followed was so loud, the prisoners fell silent, as the crashes, cries of agony and sonic carnage drowned out any noise they could ever make.

Chapter Text

A light rain fell in the clearing, punctuated by claps of thunder. The Pirate stomped through, dragging a baby Glute by the foot through the grass. “Just wait till my daddy finds me!” he squealed. “Him and Rayman are gonna kick all your butts!”

“Be silent!” the Pirate bellowed. “You wouldn’t want me to demonstrate what a true butt-kicking would feel like, would you?” He paused, waiting for the Glute to respond. He stayed silent. The Pirate dragged him over a particularly bumpy rock, just to make sure he stayed quiet. He stifled a pained cry, straining to see where his captor was taking him.

“Identification underway,” a metallic voice droned. A bright, piercing spotlight shone on the two for a second. All he could see through it was a metal door, opening before them. Everything was dark after that.

The rain had cleared by the time Rayman appeared. He found himself in a woodland clearing, overseen in every direction by Pirate camps, though none greeted him on arrival. The best source of light available was the moon, shining overhead. At least, until a small shadow descended from it, his wide grin beaming. “Hey Rayman,” said Murfy.

“What did I miss?” Rayman asked, keeping his voice low. If the Pirates didn’t know he was there, the last thing he wanted was to change that.

“Good news first,” he said, guiding him to a nearby tree, out of view from the camps. “We’ve moved some of the new escapees to the Menhir Hills, so our headquarters at Rainbow Cliffs-” he turned to the side, “if you can call it that-” he faced Rayman again, “they’re less cramped. Clark went with the Teensies to help them set up some kind of Teensie capital. Get their kingdom canonised, you know?”

The joy trailed out of his voice as he finished talking. Clearly he had more to say, but didn’t want to say it. “What’s the bad news?” he asked.

“There’s this huge mining complex deep in the mountains,” said Murfy, dropping the smile. “And they’ve got Globox and Uglette’s kids running it. They’ve gone to rescue ‘em, but…” He sighed. “Now, I’m not saying Globox was recaptured, so don’t worry about that. But they’re pretty powerless to do anything.” He looked at the tree, and the yellow lums dancing between the branches. “Still, first things first,” he continued, “we need to find that third Sanctuary. And you’re getting some help with that.”

As he spoke, the lums converged, creating a bright light. As it faded, Ly the Fairy stood before them, standing upright for once. She opened her eyes, greeting Rayman with a gentle smile. “You could’ve waited before I was done talking,” said Murfy jokingly.

“Ly!” Rayman cried, forgetting about the nearby camps. He covered his mouth, but it was too late. A Pirate leapt into view, spotting the trio by the tree. Murfy screamed and flew back into the sky, leaving Ly and Rayman to face the enemy together. She held her arms out together, channeling magic into the Pirate’s joints. He suddenly found himself unable to move, or even fire his gun. His limbless foe, naturally, did not have this disadvantage. A single charged pellet was enough to take him down.

The threat eliminated, Rayman turned to Ly. “Whoops,” he said, scratching his hair. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t need my help,” she replied seriously. “Unfortunately, the whereabouts of that third Sanctuary is known only to the Pirates. So sending you there by portal isn’t an option.” The smile returned to her face. “In other words, we are going to break in and discover those whereabouts for ourselves.”

“Break in?” Rayman repeated. “Won’t that mean a direct confrontation with them?”

“Not if we’re careful,” said Ly, guiding him down a path to a small, flowing river. A plum grew from the overhanging branches, swaying in the breeze. “In fact, I know a way to smuggle you in.” With a snap of her fingers, the plum dropped from the tree. Before either of them could do something with it, however, it bounced down the river, picking up speed as it went, until it rounded a corner. Panicking, Ly ran after it, while Rayman followed, listening to its rhythmic bouncing. Then, with a loud splat, the bouncing stopped, and so did Ly.

Before them, at a cliff overlooking a starry night and cloudy forest, a Pirate staggered. The plum had landed on his head, dazing and blinding him. The two watched in surprise, as it fumbled off the cliff, without so much as a muffled scream. They peered over the edge, but his body was nowhere to be seen. Seconds later, a loud crash rang through, startling them.

Rayman turned to Ly. “Do you have another Silver Lum, Ly?” he asked, hopeful.

“I’m afraid not,” she said, still comprehending what just happened. Then, she snapped her fingers. “I’ve got an idea!” she declared.

The metal fit nicely on Ly’s limbs. A few chunks were a bit large, but shrunk to scale with a small incantation. The hard part was cobbling together a torso that fit her figure, and she decided to leave it a few inches wider. It was perhaps best to disguise her outline as best as possible. The helmet was still filled with wires, but they were easily removed. Rayman watched her put on her disguise, while leaning on a barrel. “Glad to see they didn’t take your ingenuity,” he said.

“To live in this world, one must not rely on a single skill,” she replied, her voice muffled by the helmet. “I believe that was Axel’s message. Now hop into the barrel.”

Rayman looked at the barrel. “If you’re sure,” he muttered, lifting the lid and hopping it. It was a tight fit, and his nose protruded from a small hole in the body, but he was in. “Okay,” he called, unsure if Ly could hear him.

“Stay still,” Ly instructed, picking the Raybarrel up. He couldn’t see where she was taking him, but she moved gracefully, with only a small rocking motion. Before he knew it, the movement had come to a stop. “Identification underway,” snarled a tinny voice through a tannoy.

“Ey,” said Ly, with an accent Rayman never imagined coming from her. The helmet filtered her voice with a subtle robotic veneer. “Got a big-nosed barrel fer the Top o’ th’ World camp.”

“What business do you have here?” the tannoy barked.

“Mate, I’m jus’ th’ delivery lass,” Ly replied, keeping her voice low. “Got like very precise instructions fer where t’ take it.”

“I don’t recall seeing you in the crew before.”

Ly laughed mockingly. “I’m just a temp, mate. Y’ think any sane woman would work with an irritable tinpot like Admiral Razorbeard full time?” She paused, as though she’d poked a hole through her own facade. “So no funny business, got it?”

“Permission granted,” said the Pirate on the other end, with a very pronounced sigh. “As long as you’re not a journalist.”

“Drat,” Ly muttered in her own voice, “that would’ve been a much better cover.” She cleared her throat, carrying the big-nosed barrel in. “Cheers mate,” she said, heading into the camp. The corridor inside wound and twisted in a downward spiral, taking her past several Pirates who didn’t expect a visitor in their private sanctum. None of them seemed to care about her, thankfully.

“Hey Ly, what’s going on?” Rayman whispered from the barrel. Ly whacked the body with her palm to shut him up. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one to hear him. A Pirate stopped in the hallway, staring at her with suspicion. “Right,” she said, trying to sound grumpier than she felt, “lookin’ fer the Top o’ th’ World. Don’t suppose I’m headin’ th’ right way?”

“What’s in that barrel?” asked the Pirate, narrowing his eye.

Ly shrugged. “It’s got a big nose. What else d’you need t’ know, really?”

“Is it a prisoner?”

He was interrogating her, Rayman realised. “Prob’ly,” she muttered. “Jus’ got told t’deliver it there by Razorbeard ‘imself.”

The Pirate’s eye widened. “Take the next left,” he said hastily, stepping aside. “There’s a chairlift, it’ll take you up to the Top of the World.” He saluted, trying to amend for his misplaced suspicion.

Ly glared at the Pirate, getting a little satisfaction from the dynamic shift. “Wait until HR hears about this,” she sneered, before carrying on down the hall. The corridor ahead looked empty, so she afforded herself some time to relax. “My goodness,” she sighed, “I do not know how anyone can comfortably talk like that.”

“Nor do I,” Rayman replied.

Chapter Text

“You can come out now.”

Ly lifted the helmet from her head, and the lid from the barrel. It toppled over, spilling Rayman’s hands, feet and body onto the floor. They reassembled, grabbing a hold of the barrel to tug his head free. She watched as he lifted the barrel overhead, staggering around blindly. “Uh, Ly?” Rayman muttered, “my nose is still stuck.”

Ly sighed. “You have my apologies,” she said, grabbing the barrel and punching his nose back through the hole. Rayman’s head fell out of the hole, dazed and clutching his throbbing nose. The fairy threw a red lum his way, healing it quickly. He shook his head and looked around. The two were on a small bluff jutting from a large tree, facing a large iron gateway beyond the sheer drop below. A laser rail extended from it, stopping right before them. “So,” he asked, “how do we cross?”

“It’s a chairlift,” Ly explained, securing the helmet on her back. “I’ll go make sure it’s coming for you.” With a running start, she leapt across the drop, landing on the gateway threshold on all fours, before jumping across the criss-crossing structures beyond. Rayman was left alone, with the only obvious route back through a wooden hall, presumably the worst possible direction he could pick.

He waited, and waited, watching the thrumming laser rail tempting him just nearby, with no means of actually using it. Even touching it didn’t do anything; his hand just harmlessly passed right through. As the minutes rolled together, he heard the rising sound of squeaking, accompanied by a panicked grunting. Rayman traced the rail, trying to see what was coming. Whatever it was, it was bulky, blue and brutish. The lift came to a sudden stop, launching its rider into the nearby wall.

The rider, it turned out, was a robotic gorilla, wearing only a blue and white striped shirt over a hunched back. Slowly, it peeled off the wall, leaving a distinct imprint in the wood, before turning to see Rayman. With a surprised grunt, it charged straight at him. Rayman responded simply by hopping onto the chairlift and riding it away. He saw his pursuer continue his pursuit into open air, before realising just what awaited him down below. The gateway closed before he could see the results.

Rayman looked ahead, and was nearly smacked in the head by a passing pipe. He swung the seat to the right just to avoid it, almost colliding into another pipe in the process. Before he could react, the rail took him out of harm’s way, just in time for his hair to brush against the obstacle. His route pivoted again, taking him into a mess of bunkers, bases and supporting struts. Sometimes he could see the dusk sky beneath him, or a Pirate casually watching him rush by. Did he even know who was riding it? Oh no, he thought, I don’t have a disguise! What’ll I do when I get there?

Seconds later, the mess of struts and pipes turned into a narrow, cylindrical tunnel, where the chairlift came to an end. Rayman flew straight out of it and tumbled on a smooth, carpeted floor, unsure which way was up even after everything stopped spinning. He tried getting back to his feet, but the surrounding room kept blurring and distorting. Maybe if he took a quick nap, his sense of direction would correct itself. Yeah, a nap would be nice…

When he woke, the ominous gaze of a Pirate filled his view. Rayman jumped back, throwing a pellet into his foe’s face. “Ow!” the Pirate cried in Ly’s voice, a tuft of purple hair spilling out of the side. “Oh, I suppose I deserved that,” she said softly, taking the helmet off. She looked a little embarrassed, or very hot. The sweat on her forehead made it hard to tell.

“Ly!” Rayman gasped, panic turning to horror. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about,” she said with a shrug. “At any rate, I’m glad to see you here.” She offered a hand- about the only hole in her disguise was her having both hands available. She balled them into fists to hide this as best as she could. “Now we need to find the Sanctuary’s whereabouts.”

“And how do we do that?” asked Rayman, looking around. The room they were in was full of crates and barrels, including a very large barrel sat right by the passage out. Something about its position struck him as suspicious. Why would someone plunk it there, of all places?

“I’m thinking there’s an office or survey room somewhere here,” said Ly. “If I can get there, I can find out and, if I get time, teleport you straight there.”

Rayman’s brow furrowed. “So what do you need me for?”

Ly chuckled. “I couldn’t teleport you if you weren’t nearby, silly,” she replied. “Now, take my hand. If anyone asks, you’re my prisoner.” She offered her fist, inviting Rayman to take it. When he did, she dragged him forwards, almost pulling his hand out of reach entirely. “I do apologise for this,” she whispered, as they began leaving the room. Rayman glanced at the oversized barrel. He swore he saw a cut of wood move in its body. Was there somebody in it?

Ly took him down the dimly lit corridor, passing by other storage rooms, some patrolled by Pirates or Gorillas. “Survey room, survey room,” she muttered to herself. “I must admit, I might have made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?” asked Rayman, hearing a shuffling behind him. He turned, and saw the same barrel right behind him. It wasn’t moving. How did it get there?

“Halt!”

Ly stood at attention, accidentally knocking Rayman to the floor. A Pirate had appeared from a nearby room, surprising the two. “Oh, what is it?” she whined, trying to sound frustrated.

“What are you doing with the prisoner?” barked the Pirate. “And why is he here ?” He didn’t look like other pirates. His head was more cubic, with small, beady eyes topped by a red bandana, with baggy green pants held together by polkadot cloth.

“Tch, I just follow orders,” Ly bluffed. Rayman realised she was keeping her lie vague, so it was hard for Pirates to poke holes in it. But if all she could do to maintain it was growl and be rude, it probably didn’t take much to expose her. “If ol’ sharp-chin up top wants Rayman taken up ‘ere, ‘e’s comin’ up ‘ere.”

“Oh really?” The Pirate folded his arms, gazing at Ly’s single, uncovered eye. Oh crap, Rayman thought. This one’s observant. He kept his head low, listening as the two spoke. His voice wasn’t as harsh as others. No, his was high, almost whiny. “So the admiral requested Rayman not be killed by all of us, but instead be captured and taken to our warehouse and dockyard.”

Dockyard, thought Ly. My facade’s cracking, but maybe I can still find the Sanctuary’s location. “Well hey,” she grunted, “maybe ‘e wanted Rayman back on th’ Prison Ship t’ kill ‘im personally. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m not delayin’ that execution if I can ‘elp it.”

The scrawny Pirate stepped aside, allowing Ly and Rayman past. “Interesting how you don’t know the name of the Buccaneer,” he sneered. Ly stifled a gasp, almost freezing on the spot. If she responded poorly now, her facade would fall apart, in the middle of Pirate territory. Rayman heard the shuffling again. In his peripheral vision, he saw the barrel coming closer, marching on two thin legs. There was a slit in the barrel, filled with two eyes. It was onto them.

“Well, course not,” Ly huffed. “I’m a temp, mate. Y’think Razorbeard would trust a pretty ol’ dame like me with sumthink so important?” She hated to play into whatever culture the Pirates had, but if it meant staying beneath suspicion, (not an easy thing to do with practically no female Pirates) it had to be done.

“Uh, true,” the Pirate squeaked, losing all the bravado in his voice. “C-carry on, ma’am.” He turned and bolted into a nearby room, no doubt embarrassed or afraid. Ly let out a small sigh of genuine frustration, before dragging Rayman further on. Behind them, he heard the barrel continue to follow.

The corridor finally ended in a left turn, taking Ly and Rayman to a large hangar, filled with three Warships. Ahead, several Pirates ran around, carrying crates and hoisting them on deck. Ly carefully guided Rayman to a small room to the side, far out of view. It looked like a small office of some kind, luckily enough. Luckier still, it was empty. As soon as they were inside, Ly took the helmet off and placed it on a nearby table. “Cannot express how blinding that thing is,” she huffed, wiping sweat from her brow.

Rayman got up, dusting himself off. “Ly, look,” he said, drawn to a worn-out map pinned to the wall. It was an accurate depiction of the Glade of Dreams, using string to jot out how much land had been taken by the Pirates, which was disturbingly large. It had clearly been adjusted a few times recently, but they still controlled, (or claimed to control) over half of it.

Ly investigated it, tracing the string with her finger. “They should know all the locations of the Masks,” she muttered. “Ah, see these dots?” She pointed to four dots, with crude scribbles of faces above each one. Two had been crossed out, depicting what looked like the Masks of Madness and Might. A third, showing an exaggerated grimace, wasn’t far from the Mask of Madness. The fourth, by contrast, was at the other end of the map.

“Ly,” he said, “is this the Mask of Malice?” He pointed at the grimace.

“Yes, that’s it!” Ly cried. “It’s in the Bayou!” She took a step back. “I shall prepare a portal for both of-”

“INTRUDER!!!”

Rayman and Ly turned to the door. The barrel stood there, glaring at them. “Boys,” he declared, to the chorus of stamping feet, “we have an imposter in this house!”

Chapter Text

The barrel Pirate laughed, his guttural voice amplified by his wooden vessel. “Give it up, lady. Never heard anyone here with such a stupid accent!” He swivelled the cannon fixed to the lid, aiming it at Ly. Electricity sparked from it, suddenly firing a beam straight at her.

With a magic pulse, Ly deflected the beam. It split around her, ripping straight through the map. “RUN, RAYMAN!!” she screamed. Rayman came to his senses and bolted it out of there. “I’LL KEEP THEM BUSY!!” she yelled after him, watching him go. She unclenched both hands, flexing her free fingers. “You have no right coming here,” she snarled.

“We have every right, whelp!” the Pirate laughed, as other soldiers marched past him. (He took up a lot of space, and some had to squeeze their way in.) “Come to think of it, you’re the one fairy we never caught.” The cannon began to spark again. “The one who got away.”

“The one who’s getting away,” she retorted, channelling energy between her fingers. “ Leptys, Prhys, Protoons, ” she whispered, as the magic coursed through her body. Her skin began to glow. “ We will never be your prisoners! ” A bright light engulfed Ly’s body, leaving only a pile of Pirate pieces when it faded.

The Barrel Pirate stared at the space in the office, dumbfounded by Ly’s escape. The Pirates around him were struck by all the ruined equipment he’d just destroyed. “This is going on your tab, moron,” said one Pirate to him, heading out.

They hadn’t forgot about Rayman, of course. He found himself trying to flee a dock filled with Pirates at every turn, with no obvious way out besides the Warships. He noticed a pile of kegs lying abandoned near one of them, next to a lit torch. He ran towards it, noticing a small trail of gunpowder leading towards it. A crude idea started to form in his head.

The hangar was built atop a cliff, overlooking a vast, lifeless valley. Any Warship that wanted to leave had to travel through it, to reach whatever territories needed them. If Rayman’s haphazard plan actually worked, he’d have to deal with them on his tail. Nevertheless, he took the nearest keg, poked a hole in the lid and held it against the burning torch. The gunpowder caught instantly, turning the barrel into a makeshift rocket. It almost flew straight out of his hands, and did drag him straight through the keg pile, knocking the torch over. It all exploded behind him, as he flew out of the hangar and into the valley beyond.

He scanned the cliff walls around him, hoping for somewhere safe to land. A small wooden pier came into view, to his relief. That relief vanished fast, when the keg started to sputter and drop from the sky. Rayman realised he had to steer it away from the pier, while leaping to it himself. It passed by the fragile wooden planks within an inch, before dropping into the canyon below. For a moment, Rayman let himself gaze at its shrinking figure.

The silence was blasted by a barrage of bombs. The pier, already shaking in the wind, began to collapse. Rayman had no choice but to run, following it across the cliff wall. He could hear the Warship loom behind him, blocking out the morning sun. The pier was broken up by a few nets, some towers and one or two observation decks, and each was bombed as Rayman reached it.

Fortunately, there was an end to the pier. A small Pirate base, built in the shape of a skull and crossbones, was within view. Rayman ran, leapt and crossed the winding path, catching a glimpse of the Warship looming ever closer. After leaving a net, he found a red shell galloping straight towards him. A single pellet smashed it, but still left him with a vague feeling of guilt. It wasn’t enough for him to finally reach the base. He flipped a switch, opened the door, and was attacked by a ninja henchman on the other side.

Rayman jumped back instinctively, dropping right off the collapsing pier in the process. “That was for our master!” the henchman yelled at him. The Warship bowed its prow, as if watching him fall. It’s not over, Rayman told himself. Slow yourself down! He faced the valley, spreading out his body and spinning his hair to bring his descent back under control, while he scanned the rising valley for somewhere to land. As luck had it, there was another rackety pier just further ahead, so deep that the sun couldn’t reach it.

The Warship had not forgot about him. Rayman heard the whirring of flying bombs on his tail, casting a shadow over him. He evaded them by diving, but couldn’t angle himself towards the pier. He reached the pier by spreading out, but that allowed the projectiles to close in. Alternating between the two, he barely reached the first plank of the pier, feeling one bomb against the heel of his shoe as he broke into a spring, tearing through the planks he crossed.

That Henchman might have prepared another trap, thought Rayman, preparing a pellet in his palm. I need to be ready. He followed the pier, which wasn’t being as heavily attacked by the Warship. Was it even there still? He tried to look, and almost ran straight off. Thankfully, the pier ended with a small cave tunnel, giving Rayman some breathing room at last. Better still, there wasn’t an ambush waiting for him inside. He took a moment to catch his breath, dropping the pellet on the ground.

“The third Sanctuary is in the Bayou,” Rayman told himself, heading down the cave. “Once I’ve got that, I should go help Globox and Uglette rescue their kids from the mines.” Did Ly escape? Had the Pirates captured her? It was hard to say. The important thing, he was sure she’d agree, was that they hadn’t captured him. Heck, he might have even set them back a little. That was a nice thought.

The cave ended on a wide, spacious dock. Rayman entered, listening to the pleasant sounds of crying seagulls and the rush of the sea nearby. If it wasn’t for the crude base he was standing on, this would be pretty pleasant. The silence was broken by the thrum of a Warship’s engine. Rayman looked up, and saw something leap from its angular deck. It landed before him, its rusted metal glinting in the sun. “Not so fast,” growled the Ninja Henchman.

The fight began instantly. Rayman tried firing pellets at it, but he just sidestepped, parried them or disappeared in smoke before any of them could land. When it was his turn to attack, he either did so with multiple gunshots from multiple directions, or with a hook lunge. Like with Ninjaws, the hook got trapped in the dock’s planks, earning him a powered pellet in the back, paralysing him a little. Unlike his master, this Henchman was less prepared, and didn’t have the advantage of an uneven playing field. He went down with much less effort.

Rayman sat on the dock, staring at the Warship overhead. Slowly, it began to drift down, coming to a gentle stop by the sea. Intrigued, he drew near, expecting other Pirates to meet him on board. None were there, even when he hopped on board. “This might be my ticket back to the Bayou!” he realised, heading for the steering wheel. A map was pinned to a small post next to it, showing where the Precipice was, and how far the Bayou was from him.

However, the mines were even nearer. They weren’t en route to the Bayou, but it was still within reach. “Hold on, Globox!” Rayman took the wheel, steering away from the Pirate dock, taking him out to sea.

Chapter Text

Dark clouds hung perpetually over the mines. Rayman could see them from miles away, marking exactly where he needed to go. Going in, the water slowly turned green, flowing into a thick river. Nothing seemed to grow on it, besides a few trees on the surrounding mountains. The prows of some ships rose from the water, threatening to pierce his hull if he didn’t steer around.

Where were Uglette and Globox? If they got here before him, they might know where the mines were, and how to rescue the kids from them. A small dock came into view, lit by a swinging lantern. Rayman could see the outline of Uglette beneath it, sat on her bottom, helpless. Seeing a Warship slowly sail towards her scared her back onto her feet, but gave her nowhere to run from it. When it moored, and someone jumped from the deck, her heart almost stopped in terror. “No,” she blubbed, “haven’t you taken enough from me already?!”

“Uglette?” she heard Rayman say. Her eyes opened, and she saw the limbless boy standing a few feet away, his hands open as a peace gesture. “What happened?”

Uglette went pale, sinking back on her backside. “Oh, me heart,” she gasped, trying to steady her panting. “It’s ‘orrible, Rayman. T’ Pirates ‘ave taken all me babies! They’ve locked some in t’ mines downriver, and took t’others to th’ Iron Mountains with th’ fourth Mask. Me darling Globox did ‘is best to save ‘em, but…” Tears rolled down her eyes. “But the blasted Pirates captured him, too!”

Rayman’s stomach twisted. “They’ve captured Globox… again?” he stammered. After all the two had been through, after rescuing him from the Pirates, he was just recaptured?

Uglette nodded pitifully. “They took ‘im to their Prison Ship,” she wailed. “Oh Rayman, can’t ye jus’ go up there ‘n save ‘em all now?”

“I wish I could,” said Rayman. Part of him wished he could be captured again, just so he could try and rescue Globox from the inside. It was stupid, and he knew it, but he wanted that. For the first time on his adventure, it felt like he’d lost progress. But I can’t do that. So what can I do? He looked at the Warship, then knew what he had to do. “Let’s go save your children.”

“Eh?” Uglette wiped her cheeks, trying to clear her eyes. “Are you daft? How we meant t’do that? Ride in ‘at thing?”

“Exactly.” He ran and hopped back on board, bringing the Warship a few feet down the dock, allowing Uglette a short walk on board. “Come on,” he said, offering his hand. “We’ll go get your children back.”

Uglette got to her feet, shakily taking Rayman’s hand. It took some effort to haul her on, but she joined him gladly. “Let’s save ‘em, like!” she declared. “Full steam ahead, aye?” Rayman nodded, and began sailing downriver. The Warship swayed, its rudder knocking the old dock apart as it left. Further up, the mountains formed a very narrow, uneven valley, filled with crude Pirate bases. Nobody seemed to notice the big ship moving towards them. Was there anyone there? At any rate, they were in the way. “Uglette, take the wheel,” he instructed.

“Eh?” Uglette grunted, opening her mouth to reply. The view of the base dead ahead of them answered her question. “Right, aye,” she muttered, as Rayman ran downstairs, looking for the artillery. She tried slowing the Warship down, but all she could figure out was how to steer the boat a little to the right, which didn’t help much. “Ey, Rayman!” she bellowed. “Fancy a trade?” As she spoke, something fired from below deck, smashing through the base struts. The rest of the structure collapsed, denting the prow as it did.

Uglette stared numbly at the destruction, not even noticing Rayman had come back on deck, taking the wheel again. “Have you been in the mines?” he asked.

“Nah,” she replied, remembering herself. “I ‘eard Globox get inside and bust ‘em up. F’all I know, t’aint any Pirates left t’run the mines.” She scoffed, trying not to think too much about what she just said. “By eck, wouldn’t that be nice?”

He nodded quietly, turning to the right. A small dock, built into the cliff, caught his eye. “Hey, Uglette?” he asked, pointing to it. Beneath the engine’s thrum, he could hear the telltale squeaks and bounces of Glute children. Drawing nearer, he saw little blue blobs, watching the approaching Warship. “We’re there!”

“Hey, hey look everyone,” one child said. “It’s our mummy!” Somehow, their squeaks and bouncing sped up, and they were practically climbing on top of each other to get a better look. The ship came to a stop by the dock, and a flood of children practically spilled on board. Uglette ran to greet them, while Rayman merely stared in surprise. All of these children, stuffed into one mine? What were they even digging for? “Hooray for Rayman!” they cheered. “Hooray for mummy!”

Rayman chuckled to himself. “Hey, kids,” he said, almost drowned out by their constant noise. “Is this all of you?”

The children stopped and shook their heads. “This is only the south mine,” one child told him. “There are three others further down. North, east and west.” He gazed straight into his eyes, showing a little wobble in the pupils. “Will you rescue them too?”

“Hang tight,” he announced, turning back to the wheel. “We’re gonna rescue everyone!”

With each wave of Glutes washing on board the ship, its flight slowed down a little, and Rayman swore it was beginning to lose altitude too. The children swayed and rolled across the deck, practically fluid in form. But soon, all four mines had been cleared. To his surprise, despite every Pirate base Uglette shot down for him, none of the mines had any Pirates inside them. The captives simply ran on board without any resistance. “I don’t understand,” he finally said. “Was there nobody keeping you prisoner there?”

“Why’d they do that?” one kid responded. “We were all stuck there. All we had to do was dig up crystals.”

“There were some in ours,” said another. “Our daddy busted them all!” He threw his arms around, as if slapping imaginary Pirates. “Wham! Pow! Splat!”

“Where did daddy go?” asked a third.

“Erm, ‘e got taken,” said Uglette. “But it’s gonna be okay, like. Rayman ‘ere is gonna rescue him!”

“I am,” Rayman replied. “But first, let’s get you back home.” He spun the wheel, turning the Warship halfway around, and followed the river back out. “Uglette, first I need to find the Third Mask. As soon as I can, I’ll rescue everyone from the Iron Mountains.”

“You got it, love!” Uglette cheered, hugging three kids in her arms at a time.

The shadow of a Warship passed through the marshlands. Ssssam sssstopped in his tracks to watch. He swore he could hear children on board. Taking a closer look, he saw several blue shapes jumping up and down from it. Some spilled into the swamp with a “Wheeeee!” He turned and looked at Eig, who had emerged just for the show. “I told you he’d come back,” he said cheerfully.

Rayman watched the kids drop. “Are you sure this is all right?” he asked. Ahead, a cracked temple appeared, beneath the roots of a giant tree.

“Ah, it’ll be dandy,” said Uglette. “Bet Ly ‘n Murfy’ll be glad t’have their hideout all t’themselves again, like.” She ran starboard, watching the children jump off one by one. “Cheers, Rayman,” she said, offering a genuine smile. “When y’see Globox, tell ‘im t’kids can’t wait fer ‘im t’come ‘ome.” She gave one last wave, and jumped into the swamp. Rayman chuckled to himself and steered closer to the swamp, angling its descent straight down. It didn’t get him right by the Sanctuary, but it got him near enough. He leapt off,  and watched the Warship be consumed by the marshes. Eig helped himself to a few pieces, flashing Rayman a delighted grin.

“Enjoy your meal,” Rayman told him, running into the Sanctuary. Before he could get inside, Murfy appeared, stopping him right at the gates.

“Hey, Rayman,” he said nervously. “So, good news first. Ly got out safely, and she’s waiting for you inside, and even has a new power. One you’ve never had.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Rayman replied, before noticing the anxiety in his grin. “What’s the bad news?”

“Well,” Murfy scratched his head. “You know how the first Mask’s guardian challenged you to a fight? Aaaaand the second actually helped you?”

Rayman nodded slowly. “What about the third?”

Murfy sighed. “His name’s Foutch,” he said, “and when the Heart of the World exploded, he went mad.” He looked behind his back uneasily. “Ly tried reasoning with him, but he wouldn’t listen to a word. Whatever he says, just know he’s not his usual self.”

“Got it,” said Rayman. “I think I’m ready.”

Murfy hung his head. He wished Rayman didn’t have to face this threat at all, let alone under the circumstances. “Right this way,” he groaned, guiding him inside.

Chapter Text

As decayed as the Sanctuary’s front was, inside was fresh and seemingly untouched, filled with stained glass windows and lined with lime-green walls. There was a subtle humidity in the air, accompanied by a hissing sound, not unlike the caterpillars from Jano’s domain. Heading deeper in, a few cracks appeared in the ceiling and floor, but nothing too startling. Unlike the other two Sanctuaries, this looked like a genuine place of worship. For the Teensies, perhaps?

Murfy’s tour ended with a large, muggy room. The floor ringed the centre, leaving a wide gap only the green grinner could cross. Below, a sea of thorny tentacles writhed and scraped against one another, practically throbbing with agony. Murfy cleared his throat. “Ly, he’s here,” he said. Small sparks of magic formed in the air, coming together to create Ly’s serene form. Rayman let out a sigh of relief. She did get out.

“Rayman,” she said softly, “I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

“Start with the good news,” Rayman replied. Clearly her safety wasn’t good enough news.

“As I’m sure Murfy told you,” she said with a smile, “I’ve gathered enough energy to give you another power.” She cupped her hands together, gathering energy between her palms. A Silver Lum took shape, which gladly flew into Rayman’s chest. This one felt different, however. As amazing as it felt, it didn’t feel familiar. Whatever this gift was, he had never experienced this before.

“A new power,” he gasped. The euphoria definitely was familiar. “YIPPIIIIIE!” His hair stood alert, and started spinning on its own, much faster than it ever had before. It was strong enough to lift Rayman’s feet off the ground. “Woah, incredible!”

“Now you have the ability to fly,” said Ly. “The bad news is that it’s a frail power. If you’re attacked by a powerful enough force, you will lose the ability.” She looked down, as the tentacles began to part. A small, narrow tunnel hid within their thorny mass. “And your mission will get harder still,” she added. “But look at you, my friend. You went straight into Pirate territory, and got out unscathed.”

“Heh, so did you,” said Rayman, chuckling to himself. He tested his power by flying laps around Ly, hoping to impress her with how good he could do it. It earned a smile, but he wasn’t sure if she was genuinely impressed, or merely amused. “I never knew you were so good at voices, Ly.”

She laughed, definitely a laugh of embarrassment. “Yes, well,” she muttered, “I shall leave you to it. Good luck, Rayman.” Her body began to fade in a glitter of energy. “I’m proud of you,” she added, before she was truly gone. Murfy watched her go, then looked up at Rayman, giving him a thumbs up.

“I’m off to check the resistance,” he said, waving goodbye. “Honestly, we’re not really that much of a resistance,” he muttered to himself. “Rayman’s literally doing all the work here. I mean, what are we doing?” Rayman didn’t hear the rest of his rant. I guess the stress is finally getting to him, he thought, descending into the tentacle mass.

The form of the tunnel shifted and contorted as Rayman travelled through it. The ceiling rose and descended, the walls expanded and contracted, even taking on right angles every now and then. A few shot out to attack him. Some sunk back in after a pellet, some stayed out. One genuinely did catch Rayman unawares, almost knocking him into the mass. The hair kicked back into action just as his heel felt their coarse, slimy skin.

The air grew thicker, and a thin shimmer hung over everything ahead. Sweat poured from Rayman’s brow, and he struggled to concentrate on his surroundings. Nothing stood out to him. With the strain on his hair, and the constantly changing form of his surroundings, everything started to blur together. It felt like some kind of stress-induced dream, and his eyes strained to stay open.

Then, at last, something stood out. A stone door, poorly hidden by the tentacles. Rayman lobbed a pellet at it, parting the door just a little. The tentacles noticed, and pushed it back shut. If I don’t get through quick, he realised, they’ll cover it completely! He fired another pellet, charging it as much as he could. It came unstuck from its hinges, but could still be forced back together, which the tentacles moved to do.

One more pellet knocked half of the door free, and the rest quickly followed. The tentacles enclosed on the new space, trying to block Rayman out. He forced his way through, feeling their spiked mass scratch every part of his body. But they couldn’t stop him. He made it out, landing on a small stone path, beside a giant, whirring fan. He took a moment to catch his breath, relishing the cool air the fan provided. His attention started to realign, though the pain in his body distracted him a little.

The tentacle mass faced the fan, creating an upwards slope. They looked a little more defined than the shapeless tunnel he’d just made it through. Was the fan affecting them? That breeze was going to steer him onwards, whether Rayman liked it or not. He took a deep breath, tried to block out the pain, and dived off the platform. His helicopter hair caught him, and he found himself pushed deeper into the Sanctuary.

How long had these tentacles been there? The only areas they couldn’t touch were filled with bright lava. This was, naturally, where the hot air was at its strongest, forcing Rayman through as quickly as he could just to stay awake. (The cold breeze helped.)  Magma flowed from the ceiling at one point, seeming to block out the breeze entirely. The tentacles, he imagined, were content to watch him struggle not to be burned alive. Unluckily for them, he did just that. Unluckily for him, more awaited him on the other side.

A large door awaited him at the end. When it opened, the tentacles did nothing to stop it. In fact, they seemed content to watch Rayman sail through into the vast, wide chamber beyond. Lava flowed from the walls into the haze below. Was this the Third Mask’s hiding place? Rayman looked down, trying to see where anything was, before a harsh force bludgeoned him from the back, and he fell.

The blow numbed his head. He tried spinning his hair to stay afloat, but it wasn’t strong enough, not even to slow his descent. “I can’t fly anymore!” he gasped, landing with a cartwheel on a row of stone platforms rising from the lava, ringing a long, thin tower at the centre. As Rayman got his bearings, something appeared in the heat haze. A floating torso with a triangular head, almost exactly like Axel. Was this Foutch? “You, you’re the third guardian,” he said. “Is that right? Foutch?”

“Yes!” Foutch bellowed, snarling with contempt. “And you, are you Rayman? The Mask Thief?!”

What? “I’m not a thief!” Rayman protested. “I need those Masks to rid the world of the Robo-“

“Well I say you are a thief!” Foutch cried, cutting him off. “A thief and a liar, to boot!” He flexed his muscular arms, crossing beneath a bridge into the tower. A stalactite hung from it. Before Rayman could do anything, he passed harmlessly by the would-be weapon. “Prepare to die!”

“But,” Rayman cried, before conceding. “He’s completely crazy…” He turned and ran, as Foutch threw waves of fire at him. If he looked just like Axel, maybe he shared a weakness. Other bridges connected to the tower, but none had a stalactite jutting from them.

“Nothing has been right since the Heart of the World shattered,” Foutch growled, stomping on the ground to startle Rayman. The impact knocked him into the air, just inches below the third, stalactite-less bridge. “I still don’t know who did it. The thorns, they tell me the culprit wants the Masks all to himself.” He slammed his fists together. “Do you deny stealing the Masks, cur?!”

At last, the stalactite came back into view! Rayman turned to face Foutch. Could he reach it with a pellet? Probably not, and the guardian would probably pass by pretty easily. Was there a way to get closer to it? Maybe he could… He gritted his teeth, not liking what he was about to say. “Okay, you got me!” he yelled above the lava’s hiss. “I broke the Heart of the World, and lied to everyone about the Robo-Pirates. All so I could take the Four Masks for myself. Polokus’ power shall be mine!”

“MONSTER!” Foutch slammed his fists into the ground in rage, knocking Rayman back into the air. He was right beneath the stalactite. It was now or never. He threw a weak pellet into a crack in the stone, widening it. It began to come free. “Your delusional crusade ends here, thief!”

The stalactite crashed into his head. His body spun around dazed, before finally falling apart. Each piece melted into the lava, leaving only red and purple lums in his wake. The red ones rushed into Rayman’s body, easing the pain he tried to suppress. “I’m really sorry,” he gasped, taking a moment to catch his breath. If Foutch somehow survived that, he hoped that fight knocked some sense into him.

Chapter Text

Without Foutch barrelling towards him, the sound of lava flowing and stones crumbling in the distance took on a less menacing tone. If he really listened, Rayman could hear the agitated hiss of the thorny tentacles, writhing chaotically. Could he still reach them? He leapt, and tried flying. But as fast as his hair could spin, it just wasn’t fast enough to lift him off the ground anymore. Ly was right. Because he’d let his guard down, he had lost the most valuable power of them all.

“Wow,” he huffed, swinging across a purple lum to the overhead bridge, “this Mask of Malice is getting to me.” He followed the bridge into the tower, where a gap cut him off. There was a light below, inviting him down. The hair slowed his descent rather gracefully. It still couldn’t beat flying, but what could? The path below took him to a small shrine, surrounded by lava flowing into the abyss below, capped by a stone ceiling. Rayman approached, looking around uneasily for any Ninja Henchmen. Nothing stood out to him. “Can’t imagine anyone could’ve got past Foutch. Especially not actual thieves.”

The pillar slid apart as Rayman reached it. The Mask of Malice rose from its podium, staring at him with its green, bug-like eyes and bitter grimace. It didn’t look happy to meet him, but came into his hands anyway. It teleported him away, leaving the Sanctuary behind.

Rayman hadn’t appreciated how cool the air in Polokus’ dominion was. Passing the Mask of Malice to the dreamer, he noticed sweaty handprints on its side. “Congratulations,” said Polokus calmly. “You’ve found the Third Mask.” He took it from Rayman’s hands, seemingly unaware of the residue dripping from it. “Just one more Mask, and the miracle will come true.” The Mask clicked into place, twisting on its own to fit like the others.

“The Mask of Malice,” he explained wistfully. “Determination and willpower turned ugly by overuse. I’m surprised no Pirates penetrated its Sanctuary.” He sighed, and seemed to look Rayman in the eye. “When you fight Razorbeard,” he said, his voice coming squarely from his moving lips, “don’t fight out of hatred. Fight for those you love, so they may live free of fear.” The voice drifted from his body over time, and he was catatonic once more.

“They recaptured my friend,” said Rayman. “He rescued me from the Prison Ship, and eventually I got to rescue him back.” He sighed, gazing at the grass underfoot. “It almost feels like I’m starting to lose what I’ve got.”

He heard the swirl of a portal descend upon him. By the time he looked up, he was already being sucked in. “Don’t lose sight of your friends and allies,” he heard Polokus say. “Their gratitude to you for saving them cannot be overstated.”

The tide is beginning to turn, Rayman. More fairies are returning to the forest, and Teensies are creating roads across the glade.

But know that the Pirates will not take this lying down. The next leg of your journey will take you to their final stronghold.

Before that, you must cross the Kingdom of the Dead. A realm so vile, it transcends the worst of Polokus’ nightmares. A perfect hideout for the Pirates’ experiments, wouldn’t you say?

As we’re sure you’ve gathered, Polokus is not infallible. His negative thoughts run away from him and come into their own beings. Giant spiders and zombie chickens are his nightmares personified.

And no, the Robo-Pirates did not come from Polokus’ thoughts. They are from other worlds, beyond the scope of our understanding.

After creating this world, and all the creatures that inhabit it, a harder task remained: creating time. So Polokus went to a place where all the gods of all the worlds meet, and together they set about dreaming up the future.

To be warned of any problems that might occur, he sent four magic Masks to the four corners of the world. Before leaving, he explained to the fairies that reuniting all four Masks would be all it would take to bring him back.

Since he didn’t want to be called back by just anybody, Polokus created fierce Guardians to protect the Masks, giving them weaknesses only a true warrior could discover and use.

The period immediately following Polokus’ departure was a time of wonder. The people learned to speak and love nature. A wind of freedom blew through all their souls. You turned up in the last days of that harmony, just in time for the Pirates’ arrival.

You have seen this world at its best, Rayman. To acquire the Mask of Mirth, you must see it at its worst.

The Rainbow Cliffs didn’t sound as rowdy now. A few Glutes remained, monitored by Uglette, though for the first time since arrival, the teensies and fairies outnumbered them. The four Teensie Kings looked right at home now, and greeted Rayman with courteous bows. “Well done,” said the first king. “You’ve beaten the Pirates to it. I heard rumours of another ambush in the third Sanctuary, but you got there first.”

Rayman chuckled. “Well, with the Guardian going berserk, even Razorbeard’s toughest soldiers couldn’t have got far.”

“You really are made of the stuff of heroes,” the king concluded, passing the crown on. “You’re the one who should be our king!” the second one declared. “Rayman, King of the Teensies!” they chanted together, breaking formation. “Rayman, King of the Teensies!”

“Uh, calm down,” said Rayman awkwardly. “We haven’t succeeded in anything yet. I still need to bring back the last Mask.”

“Ah, indeed you do,” said the third king, snatching the crown during the confusion. The other Teensies made no effort to stop him. “We’ve regained so much land, and the Pirates have abandoned most of their bases, it’s easy to forget they hold the upper hand.” He looked past Rayman at the horizon. Beyond the cliffs, the clouds over the forest had mostly cleared, although the distinct shape of the Prison Ship hung far in the distance. “Especially now they have Clark.”

“Yes, so we need to be,” Rayman started, before he processed that last nugget of information. “ They took Clark?! ” That fear knotted his stomach once again, squeezing it even tighter. “But how?!”

“Well, they couldn’t gang up on him,” said the last king. “So they lured him deep into the Tomb of the Ancients, and he hasn’t been seen since.” He marched up to Rayman. “Fortunately, this was pretty recent. You may still have time to save him from their schemes.” He twirled his hands together, casting a portal on the ground at Rayman’s feet. “We’re going to need him when the time comes.”

“Agreed,” said Rayman, hopping in. “Be careful, Your Majesties!” His hand waved them goodbye, and he was gone. The portal faded to nothing, leaving the four in Rainbow Cliffs, staring where he’d just appeared.

“He’s not wrong,” said the first king, happy without the crown. “First Globox, then Clark. I suspect Razorbeard is preparing for a massive counterattack.”

“Yep, that’s the overall theory,” said Murfy, barging into the conversation. “Hate to break Parliament, everyone,” he said, “but I just discovered some intel about the Mask of Mirth. Where’s Rayman?”

The four kings blinked in confusion. “He just left,” said the fourth king.

“What?!” He hissed through his teeth, his breathing uneven with panic. “Okay, whatever. I’ll tell you. They’ve captured the Fourth Guardian!”

The Teensies tilted their heads. “How in Houde’s name did they do that?”

“They built a stronghold over the Sanctuary of Cloud and Sky,” Murfy rambled. “Oh, it’s a doozy. It’s a child labour camp, a prison and a vault for the Fourth Mask! And they’ve created their own guardian to patrol it! Some kind of robot dinosaur!”

“This is in the Iron Mountains, right?” asked the second king. “Not far from the Tomb of the Ancients?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point!” Murfy cried. “We’ve got no way to get Rayman in there! It’s too heavily fortified!”

The four kings grinned. “You know those walking shells the Pirates left in the Menhir Hills?” asked the fourth king. “We’ve conducted some studies on them, and…” He chuckled. “Can you help us smuggle one into their big, scary fortress?”

“I… can try…” Murfy said, nervous of what they were suggesting.

“Good.” The Teensies clapped their hands together. “Then Rayman’s gonna be fine.”

Chapter Text

An unpleasant stench met Rayman on arrival. He found himself on a spiral staircase, descending a cold, grey tower, guarded by sharp fencing. In the wall, a window showed him a dark green landscape, littered with bones, tombstones and the restless spectres of zombie chickens. To say it made the Marshes of Awakening look and feel like the Woods of Light, would have been both a massive understatement, and a rude dismissal of Ssssam’s home.

“Rayman,” croaked a voice. He turned, and saw one of Jano’s underlings, hopping on its haunches on the step below. “Do not be alarmed, I am not here to fight you.”

Rayman dropped the pellet in his hand. “You’re not?”

“No,” the underling rasped. “I am here, to impart a message from Jano.” He turned and bounded down the stairs, guiding Rayman a road, green with slime, that waited beyond. The stench grew thick, making his eyes water. Past the road, a well of tombstones kept the surrounding marshwaters out, and a giant spider had happily made its web within.

“What’s the message?” asked Rayman, wiping the slime off his feet. “Does he know about this place?”

“This is the final resting place,” the underling croaked. “Our tormented souls go to the Cave of Bad Dreams, but our bodies come here.” He guided Rayman around the well, across a series of barrels floating in the water. A Pirate stronghold hung in the distance, crudely attached to some ancient stone temple. “Normally, anyone who comes here cannot be brought back.” The underling reached the temple, and waited for Rayman to catch up.

“Normally?” Rayman repeated, following him deeper in. A webbed wall took him to another layer of the swamp, surrounded in all directions by a tall, uneven wall of graves.

The underling seemed to smile. “Many days ago, not long after your escape,” he explained, “a lum was taken to Razorbeard, and consumed by him.” He noticed the shock in Rayman’s eyes, which made him chuckle a little. “Yesterday, a report reached this camp that a single, isolated lum was located deep in a new, undiscovered sanctum of the Tomb.” He didn’t state the connection between those two facts, and the look in Rayman’s eyes made it clear he didn’t need to.

“So if I collect that lum,” he realised, “I can bring it back to life?”

“I’m sure they won’t mind you exploiting that little loophole,” said the underling with a coy wink. “Anyway, that’s Jano’s message. Time to go.” He bounded into the swamp, diving into it like it was clear water, sending ripples that rocked the surrounding flotsam.

“Wait!” Rayman cried. “How do I find this secret lum?”

The underling’s eye rose from the water. “Find the crack in the wall,” he said. “You’ll figure it out.” He submerged once more, leaving only a single bubble behind. An uneasy silence fell on the swamp, filled only with more bubbles popping, distant moans and wails, and the whirring of Pirates just out of view. There was seemingly nothing else for Rayman to do, but cross the swamp.

“HALT!” a Pirate barked behind him, landing on a wooden barrel, which dipped slightly with his weight. Rayman turned, initially scared of this sudden threat. “Our Admiral wanted to see you rot in this cursed realm,” he jeered, aiming his sights. “How fitting you would come here of your own volition.” Beneath him, the barrel’s plans began to crack apart.

Rayman smiled to himself. “That’s right!” he declared. “But I’m not leaving here alone!” He threw a small pellet below, into the barrel. The cracks spread across its body, splitting it in two.

The Pirate laughed. “Forgetting your aim, whelp?” he mocked, before realising his feet were spread across two drifting barrel chunks. “ARGH!” he cried, falling into the water. His pieces exploded across the swamp, sending the head just out of view in a narrow crack in the wall.

A crack in the wall! That had to be it. Through there, maybe he could find the hidden lum’s sanctum. But between him and it, there was nothing but thick, death-infested swampwater. He looked around, hoping to find some way to get around it. All he could find was a ladder up the wall, presumably taking him deeper into the Tomb. It would take him pretty high, however. Rayman ascended the wall, then looked back on the bog below. As he feared, the Pirates had this area pretty much secure. But maybe this was high enough…

Atop the wall, a large grave marked a staircase leading deeper in the Tomb. Rayman ignored it, ran to the ledge, and leapt over the swamp. Using his hair, he inched himself across the wall, trying to navigate where the crack had to be. It was a pretty long wall, and the swamp waited for him to land in its foul waters. He felt with his hand for some kind of change in texture, gasping when it felt nothing at all. With the water only inches away from swallowing him, observed by the Pirate’s lifeless helmet, Rayman leaned into that gap, and found himself in a narrow, dark gully.

A few torches hung from the walls, giving a little clarity to the slope Rayman descended. The sounds of their flickering filled space when his footsteps and breathing didn’t. The gully curved to the left, where the darkness slowly filled it. He soon found himself navigating by testing the ground and holding both hands against the walls. Thankfully, no unpleasant surprises awaited him. At least, until the gully ended, bringing Rayman to a long, cobweb-filled hall, lit by rows of torches, with a large skull embedded into the furthest wall. Something glimmered in the right eye socket.

“The hidden lum!”

As soon as he said this, something appeared in the opposite socket. A dark bulky figure, capped in a red bandana, leaping to meet Rayman. “You walked right into my trap!” the Ninja Henchman declared, bouncing across the cobwebs to strike the limbless hero. A flurry of bullets formed an arc behind him, each following him as he darted aside. He dodged a few, but one smacked him in the face, stunning him while two punched his chest, dazing him further. “The day you killed our master,” he cried, “you gave our clan a purpose! And tonight, that purpose shall be fulfilled!”

His vision blurred, Rayman tried to follow the faint splotch of the Henchman, soaring through the air. His hook glinted in the light, giving him some focus. He staggered aside, straining to charge a pellet to fire. His foe landed, his hook catching on the web-encrusted floor. He freed it in two tugs, but this was enough time to earn a blow to the face, staggering him.

The web tore as he fell from it. He was quick to his feet, however, and continued his assault. “Razorbeard didn’t hire us to capture more slaves, you know. Our expertise is killing prey. Our hunt knows no limits!” He disappeared in smoke, sneaking behind Rayman to get another strike in. This time, to his surprise, Rayman turned and slammed another pellet straight into his face. The blow pinned him to the nearest wall, knocking a torch onto the web at his feet. Pretty soon, the entire hall would be up in flames.

Eager as he was to finish the fight, this was his last chance to get the lum and escape alive. Rayman ignored the Henchman and bolted for the skull, springing off each web before the fire caught it. The light in the socket took shape. It was a yellow lum, and it could see him coming. With one last bounce, he’d get inside and take-

“NOT SO FAST!”

The Henchman appeared behind the lum, aiming his gun straight at it. If he did anything, that lum was toast. Was there any way he could take him by surprise? All he could think to do was throw his hands ahead, and tackle the Henchman. It caught the Pirate by surprise, and freed the lum to enter Rayman’s body. The two fell through the socket, and into a small hole beneath.

The Henchman scoffed. “Even you would break your rules to eke out the chance of victory.”

“If it means saving lums from oblivion, I’ll do whatever it takes,” Rayman promised.

The Henchman landed first, on a stone bridge curved over a river of sludge. The impact broke his body apart, cushioning Rayman’s descent. Red lums rose from the corpse, healing his wounds. With that yellow lum in his body, a sense of satisfaction filled his spirit, as though he’d righted a near-permanent wrong. He smiled, and noticed a large sign hanging from the nearby wall. “Technical check-up past this point,” it read. “Hold on, Clark,” he said, following it.

Chapter Text

“Let’s try again.”

A surge of pain shot through Clark’s back. It misted his eyes and filled his ears with a piercing ringing. When it stopped, he sunk to his knees, unable to focus on the Pirate quizzing him. Something about his presence was too much for him to bear. “Pipsqueak,” he coughed.

The Pirate sighed. “You’re only making it harder for yourself.” His voice was higher, less sure of himself than the generic soldiers. This one looked like he’d never seen the front lines of Razorbeard’s invasion. “You tore up our strongholds, wrecking all our camps, and killed oh so many brave troops.” He tutted. “You think that makes you the good guy?”

Clark managed a confident grin, despite the pain. “They’re not yours, now. My buddies, the fairies, even the Teensies have ‘em now.” He chuckled, knowing what was coming.

“Wrong answer,” said the Pirate, turning a dial. The pain returned to Clark, making his legs flail and kick against the ground. His fingers wobbled wildly, straining to pull the wrists free from their shackles. Somehow, they would not budge. The Pirates had, at last, captured him utterly. They didn’t need to fill his belly with oil this time. “You and your buddies are on the wrong side of this,” he sneered, patting his green pantaloons. “This land, this Glade of Dreams, it’s rightfully ours.”

Clark scoffed. He knew that the Pirates had defeated him, and taken him somewhere deep and dark, but he was not going to let them break him. “That’s so stupid,” he said. “If I were free, I’d tell all my buddies you just said that. We’d all laugh.”

The Pirate twisted the dial once again. With every surge of pain coursing through Clark, a bit more of him slipped away. He fought against it, trying to stay awake, to stay himself, but it was wearing him thin, and his captor knew it. “We can be buddies too,” he said, feigning friendliness really poorly. “I can let you go, you’ll make all sorts of new buddies aboard the Buccaneer, and you’ll get to see all sorts of amazing worlds beyond this pathetic patch of…” he searched for a word, “ moss that you call home.” He strode up to Clark, looking him dead in the eye. “All you need to do is say you’ll help us. It’s easy. Say ‘Rayman is my enemy, and I will crush him.’”

Clark met his gaze. “Rayman is my friend, ” he whispered, struggling to keep his eyes open. “And I will help him crush you.”

The Spyglass Pirate turned the dial all the way. Clark’s cries went from a guttural howl to a shrill scream, while rods of lightning shot out of his back. His eyes went blank, and he slumped against the wall, drooling numbly. He huffed. “Pity he won’t be able to help you,” he snarled, marching away.

A large, iron door ended the bridge. From a small hole near the ceiling, a Teensie watched Rayman approach, a determined look in his eyes. “He’s walking straight into their top secret cell,” he muttered to himself. “Oh, he better get out okay.” He turned and walked back into his hidey-hole, crossing his fingers for luck.

The door opened before him. Overhead, a small light blinked out of the stones. It caught Rayman’s eye. “You’re letting me in?” he asked aloud, clenching his fists together. “You’re only making this easier for me!” He ran straight through, into a cavernous cell, built from gravestones from ceiling to floor. The door closed behind him, leaving only Rayman and a tired, slumped Clark at the opposite end.

Slowly, his friend came to. His eyes went from blurred and unfocused to wide and clear. “RAYMAN!” he yelled, hopping to his feet. “Come here, buddy!” He ran straight across the cell, arms spread for a hug.

Rayman let out a sigh of relief. “Clark,” he gasped, running to meet him. After locking him up in such a wide chamber, it was going to be really easy breaking him out. Then, all of a sudden, Clark froze mid-step. His arms, initially spread wide, immediately twisted forward, his palms pointed to the ground. “Clark?” Rayman repeated. His friend’s eyes were blurring, almost warped in a spiral. He heard a mechanical hum behind Clark’s back. What was happening?

When his friend started moving again, his hands swung to capture Rayman, threatening to squeeze him like a plum. A weak moan escaped his lips, almost monotonous in volume. Rayman ran back, watching his friend stumble and shamble around the cell, as if someone was learning how to steer him. Little sparks of electricity formed behind him. When Clark turned, he saw a small machine attached to his back, a green light pulsating from it. They’re mind-controlling him! He looked up, and saw the Spyglass Pirate watching from a window, holding something in his hands. A controller, maybe?

A flurry of footsteps filled the room. Rayman snapped to attention, to see Clark bolting straight for him, arms out to squash him. “Rayman,” he slurred. Thinking fast, he rolled to one side, sticking out his foot to trip Clark up. It felt like kicking a brick, but it worked. Clark stumbled and landed on his front, briefly exposing the machine. He threw a powered pellet into it, snapping part of it away. Unfortunately, the green light kept blinking. When his friend got back to his feet, he still wasn’t himself.

“Clark, it’s me!” Rayman cried, strafing around the room. “It’s your buddy, Rayman!” His words fell on deafened ears, or didn’t travel far enough across the cell. When Clark came after him now, he didn’t run. Clearly his pilot didn’t want a repeat of his first stumble. Tripping him up before was a fluke. Was there some other way he could do it? He had one idea, but... Please don’t hurt me, buddy, he thought to himself, running straight for him.

Clark took swings at him, but his arms moved slowly, hesitating a little. It gave Rayman the space to dart beneath his biceps, running circles around him. He turned, trying to follow, but his prey was already behind him again. He tried turning, but just saw his hand disappear to his right. He span on his heel, and felt a pellet smack him in the face. He lost his footing, and fell flat on his back.

The machine smashed apart with an electric fizzle. A bright green glow filled the room for a second, before fading. When it did, Clark slowly got to his feet, assessing the room he was in. “Ugh, what a bad dream,” he moaned, rubbing his forehead. “Gah, feels like my brain’s turned into jelly!” He wiped his eyes, watching the room come into focus. Rayman sat a few inches away, his pupils rolling around.

“Rayman!” Clark cheered, swiping him from the ground. “You’re the best!” He held him there, in the air, beaming up at his limbless body. “I knew you’d come.”

All Rayman could do was chuckle. “That’s what friends do,” he said. “After the Pirates took Globox, I couldn’t bear to lose another buddy.” He looked up at the window. The Spyglass Pirate had left, though a few cracks were left in the glass. Had he punched it?

Clark gasped, dropping Rayman to the floor to cover his mouth. “They took Globox?”

Rayman nodded forlorn. “He rescued me, and I was able to rescue him back, but…”

“But he needs rescuing again!” He pounded his fist to his bulbous chin. “Did you get that Third Mask, buddy?”

“Yep,” said Rayman, “just need the Mask of Mirth.”

“EXCELLENT!” Clark cheered, marching back out of the room. “The last Mask is near here! I heard that nasty Pirate ramble about it while I was captured.” He gripped both door edges, and effortlessly ripped it aside. With a smug grin, he strode out, grabbing a small hole in the nearby wall. With another small tug, the wall fell apart, revealing a wide tunnel, winding up.

“Incredible!” said Rayman, following him up. “How did you know about that?”

“I noticed it while they dragged me in there,” said Clark. “The brain’s just another muscle to pump.” The tunnel ended in a small woodland clearing, completely unlike the morbid landscape Rayman landed in. A campfire sat at the middle, some parts still smouldering. A few Teensies and Glutes watched the two emerge, a little amazed to see both their hero and his muscleman friend leave the Kingdom of the Dead.

“See?” a Glute whispered to a Teensie. “And you thought they’d never leave.”

The Teensie slapped his forehead. “I was hoping they’d get out,” he insisted. “You never listen.”

“Now then.” Clark pinched Rayman’s hair, and tossed him onto his back. “Let’s go get you a Final Mask!” He screamed with joy and ran out of the clearing, spreading his arms under the dusk sky.

Chapter Text

The morning sun watched Clark run ceaselessly across hills, through woodlands and valleys, until the outline of several tall, sharp mountains came into view, high enough to pierce the clouds. Something about it left Rayman in awe and unease. The Iron Mountains had certainly earned their name, yet the sprint to it was still filled with life and wonder. “Did you hear what the Pirates did in the Iron Mountains?” he asked Clark.

“Besides taking the Mask of Mirth?” Clark replied, taking a slope down into a grey, muddy valley. “I did hear they tried hiding it from you on Gloomy Island, but, uh, they realised it was easier for you to go there, so they took it back.” He shrugged, almost knocking Rayman off his position. “Or something like that. There’s a lot I missed.”

The shape of the valley started blocking out the sun. A low mist crept in, veiling the path ahead, sneaking a growing drizzle on the two. It did nothing to deter them, although it did make the path slippery underfoot. Rayman found himself tightening his grip on Clark’s shoulder blades just to stay on. Eventually, the valley ended in a long, muddy river, with an imposing Pirate fortress on the opposite end. A narrow, rickety bridge connected the two ends, threatening the duo with a few creaks as it swayed in the breeze.

“Looks like this is where I get off,” said Rayman, preparing to dismount.

“Pfft, nonsense!” Clark replied with a grin. “The legs are just muscles to flex.” He let out a determined roar, and ran across the bridge. Rayman held on for dear life, overwhelmed with the cracking and splashing behind him to look. All he could focus on was the fortress bounding into view, praying they would somehow make it.

“All right, buddy, we’re there.”

It took Rayman a few seconds to realise they had crossed the perilous, wafer-thin bridge. They had entered the fortress. “Let’s keep going, shall we?” Clark said gently, running further inside. Instead of entering a grand foyer, or another featureless corridor, inside the fortress was a wide, spherical chamber, with a large energy generator at the centre of it. Four lasers shot from a row of panels, firing into a small duct crowning it. Clark looked around, trying to find some other way to pass through. “Fancy breaking some Pirate stuff?” he suggested, turning back to the duct.

“This does look pretty important,” Rayman replied, hopping onto the duct. To his surprise, a set of switches topped each laser panel. It would be almost trivial for him to just power them down, and maybe jump into the duct afterwards. “Doesn’t look like I can turn them off!” he lied. “Maybe we should rip those panels down instead!”

“Could not agree more, little buddy!” Clark bellowed, grabbing the nearest panel by the corner between two fingers. He lifted himself off the ground, gradually pulling it from its frame. The laser began to flicker and sputter, until its source ripped clean off. “Duck, Rayman!” he instructed, throwing it into the rightmost panel, slicing it in half. Then, he leapt onto the duct, springboarding from there to the frame hanging above them. He swung there, gradually tearing the mechanism from the ceiling as he yelled like an animal.

The lasers, by this point, had long died. The duct was now open to both of them, and big enough to fit Clark. “You did it!” Rayman said, interrupted by the frame breaking free from its hinges. Any second now, it would collapse. “Clark, hurry!” he yelled, jumping down the duct. A loud crash followed him down, with a cloud of dust consuming him as he slid down the metal chute. He held his nose, wafting the dust aside as he moved. Looking behind him, the familiar silhouette of Clark was already taking shape. He had a small, content smile on his face.

“I don’t know what that did,” he admitted, “but that’ll teach ‘em.”

The chute ended in a cavernous grotto, lit by a small crack of sun in the rock. A small meadow filled it, dotted with discarded crates and barrels. “Amazing,” whispered Rayman, unwilling to break the silence. “Can you believe something so peaceful would be hidden beneath something so, well, evil?”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Clark responded, narrowing his eyes. “You’d think the Pirates would know about this place.” He marched forwards, surveying the environment. “After all, there’s nobody here. Nobody to enslave. Just a bunch of old boxes.” His ears pricked, and he shoved a finger up to Rayman’s mouth. “You hear that?”

In the distance, he could hear flowing water. Was that what Clark meant? He opened his mouth to respond, before a metallic bang cut him off. A puff of smoke exploded before them, and a Ninja Henchman stepped out, cocking his arm gun. “When my master was assigned to kill you,” he snarled, “we joined in to fight for glory. Now, I am the last Henchman left. This isn’t about glory for me anymore.” He sidestepped a pellet from Rayman, and continued his monologue. “This isn’t even about revenge. This is about survival!”

He leapt, priming his hook for a quick lunge. Suddenly, he felt something catch his foot, and found his head ploughed into a nearby crate. Both shattered, sending pieces of wood and metal flying across the meadow. The most complete limb, a single foreleg, hung limp from Clark’s hand. He stared at it bemused. “Know about these guys?” he asked, suddenly relaxed.

Rayman stared at the strewn carnage in disbelief. Each Ninja Henchman had given him a difficult fight, and his friend just took him out so easily? “Uh… y-yeah,” he muttered, following his friend’s measured stroll. “Can’t say I like them that much.” The meadow led them up a narrow incline, where the flowing water grew louder. The grass ended with a small dock, overlooking a diagonal river, dotted with rocks and jammed flotsam.

“I might be able to float down here,” said Rayman. “Clark, think you can jump down the rapids?” He pointed at the rocks, trying to imagine his friend standing comfortably on them.

“I’ve done tougher things,” he replied, patting his back. Rayman took the invitation and climbed back on, gripping the fabric of his shirt as he bounded down the river, hopping elegantly from rock to rock. “I must say, those Pirates had to be sneaky to get the better of me!” he said, easily making himself heard over the rushing water.

The river ended with a sheer drop, overseen by a Pirate in a hot air balloon. He barely had time to react to the impending, giant man bounding towards him, until his head was crushed underfoot. Clark grimaced, dropping the rest of the body overboard. Its stray hook cut through a rope tying it to the nearby cliff, unmooring it. “There,” he said. “Got rid of the ballast.”

The balloon drifted away from the Iron Mountains, guiding the duo across a vast, sparse landscape. Rayman peered over the edge, trying to spot anything that stood out. “You said something about the Sanctuary of Cloud and Sky, didn’t you?” he asked. “Would it be down there?”

“Nah,” said Clark, resting his chin over the basket. “Dunno where it is, probably somewhere higher up the mountains.” Something caught his eye. A large Pirate complex, slap bang in the middle of the plains. He poked Rayman’s shoulder. “See that?”

Rayman strained to get a good look. The complex looked pretty basic, but heavily fortified all the same. A small yard stood out to him, with tiny, possibly blue dots running around it. “Hey, Clark!” he said. “It’s Globox’s kids! The ones still locked up!” Without a second thought, he vaulted the basket.

Clark suddenly grabbed Rayman’s hand and yanked him back in. “Ow, Clark!” he cried. “What gives?”

“Wait till we’ve passed that prison first,” he warned. “However we’re gonna sneak in, jumping into the yard ain’t the smartest.” He surveyed the plains a little longer, then gasped. “Oh, they’ve got some kinda… giant robot bird running around it.” He glanced at Rayman, offering a shrug. “Let’s bust a move, eh? I’ll keep it busy.”  He ripped the basket aside and dove out. The moment his feet left, the balloon suddenly started rising. Rayman noticed, and jumped out after, watching it disappear beyond the clouds.

Hours earlier, a Pirate examined a crate suddenly dropped by the Iron Prison. A slender, female Pirate stood by it, her arms folded. “A walking shell?” he repeated. “I don’t remember us ordering one.” Nearby, a giant, robot dinosaur gazed down at the female Pirate, seemingly suspicious.

“Ey,” she said flippantly, putting on a strong accent, “what if Rayman n’ his allies try sneaking in? Ya think that big chicken’s gonna get ‘im? Nah, he’s too fast.” She patted the crate with pride. “But a big chicken and a walking shell? ‘E doesn’t stand a chance.”

The Pirate sighed, whistling at the dinosaur. Dutifully, he bounded over, stomping so hard into the ground it sent the crate flying. It headbutted it over the prison walls, out of the female Pirate’s view. She heard it smash apart, but the Pirate seemed unconcerned. “Well, cheers,” she said, walking away. The dinosaur’s warden watched, a little bewildered, before jumping back in an open window.

As soon as the dinosaur was out of sight, Ly pulled off the fake helmet, throwing it aside. Murfy emerged from a small shrub, still peering out for the robot dinosaur. “Did they accept it?” he asked timidly.

“Yes,” Ly replied, wiping sweat off her brow, “the shell is inside. Now Rayman has what he needs.” She huffed. “I had hoped to never disguise myself like that again.” Magic coursed through her body, taking her out of the plains in the blink of an eye. “The Teensies better be right about this,” Murfy heard her say before she truly disappeared.

Chapter Text

Clark landed first, sending subtle shockwaves across the ground, (along with deep footprints in the earth) that nudged the nearby menhirs. He breathed in the late morning air, taking note of the giant, bipedal robot, which had visibly noticed his presence. Rayman followed, slowing his descent a few feet before touchdown. He noticed the robot dinosaur too. Its head jutted out of its body like a bird’s, and its legs were designed similarly. Its warbling drone sounded rather like a chirrup, too. All it was missing were the wings.

“Finally, they’re giving me a real challenge,” said Clark, rubbing his hands together. “Can’t say I’ll be able to help you break that guardian out,” he said, somewhat ashamed, “but at least you won’t have a big ol’ chick spoiling the party, right?”

“Right,” said Rayman, feeling the ground tremble with each impending footstep. Was the dinosaur gunning for him, or Clark? “How do I get inside, anyway?” He examined the prison. No doors stood out to him. The only way in was a window, which was currently shut. If that was his only entry, it was going to hurt. “Think you can get me through there?”

“Easily!” Clark ran over to a nearby menhir, ripping it clean from the ground. He held it over his shoulder, aiming the tip right at the window. “I’ve seen people carry menhirs like this around,” he beamed, listening to the dinosaur’s aggressive warble. “Dunno why, but it must be great for their arms.” He took a running start, and threw the menhir through the window, smashing it wide open, along with the surrounding wall. “Wanna go next?”

Rayman hopped into his palm, preparing to be launched inside. “Think you could use a menhir to fight that thing?” The dinosaur was almost upon them, yet he didn’t feel scared of it. Not while in his friend’s hand.

“Nah, I wanna fight it! Not crush it!” Clark replied. “READY!” With a cry, he threw Rayman into the hole, and watched him land on his feet before sliding down. Now his friend was out of the way, he could turn his attention to the big, ugly robot that was right upon him. “Okay, you,” he whispered, taking in a deep breath, “c’mere!”

He made a dive for the dinosaur’s head.

Unlike the generator complex in the Iron Mountains, this base had a foyer, with fragments of the menhir lining its metal walkway. Three Pirates waited on the balconies, pointing their cannons at the new hole in the wall, waiting for their new visitor. When Rayman arrived, he threw a single powered pellet their way. It blindsided the one in the middle, but the other two were already on him with a barrage of shots. He dodged most of them, but a few still smacked into him, knocking him back on his side of the room.

The constant assault made it hard for Rayman to assess the situation. Where was he going? Where was the Mask? More importantly, where were the kids? Behind the middle Pirate- seemingly the leader- he could see a small metal chute. There were other cells in the foyer, but they were too heavily guarded. At least there was a chance, if narrow, he could make it behind enemy lines. He charged a pellet, trying to keep as far from his aggressors as he could, and launched it into the middle Pirate.

The blow certainly stunned him, but it didn’t shatter his body. Any second now, he could get back on his feet and continue the barrage. Rayman took his window and pelted it down the walkway, skirting from side to side to avoid shots. They only grew faster and more intense as he reached the chute, colliding with each other in small bursts of energy. One knocked him off his feet, sending him tumbling down the chute. “You fools!” their leader snarled. “Now he’s in the ventilation!”

A familiar yellow blur came into view. When Rayman stopped tumbling, he found himself sat on the back of a yellow shell. Its whinnies made clear how surprised, yet ecstatic it was to be (re)united with him. “Do you,” Rayman asked, still a little dazed, “remember me?” The shell couldn’t give an answer, and immediately took off down the vents.

Or rather, up them. The shell followed a vertical slope to the base’s ceiling, taking the duo to a large, almost empty chamber, held together by a large, wooden frame. A loud buzz filled the space, boring straight into Rayman’s skull. In the corner, a white and grey figure sat, almost a dead ringer for Axel and Foutch. He perked up, noticing the new arrival to his cell. “Is that you, Rayman?” he asked.

“I guess it is!” Rayman cried, riding the shell across the frame. “Are you Grolem 13?”

“Why, yes,” he said, still lying in his corner. “It shames me to find myself in this crude prison. I would break out, but this huge frame inhibits my powers.” As he spoke, he seemed oblivious to the nausea and motion sickness Rayman was feeling, running from wall to wall, flicking each switch he passed. “I see you’re already powering it down. Good show.”

“Is that what these do?!” Rayman yelled, trying to keep his grip on the shell. In reality, it seemed to know what it was doing better than he did. “Don’t worry, sir! It’s almost down!” The shell ran for the ceiling, jumping across each face of the frame beams, almost bucking Rayman off as it did. Its footing started to slip. With a pat on the flank, its engine fired it towards that last switch, flicking it off with a kick.

Slowly, the shell fell from the frame, taking Rayman with it. Around them, the flimsy walls of the cell cracked and fell apart, though the frame itself remained intact. The buzz finally faded, leaving only the noise of Clark wrestling the robot dinosaur outside. “Thank you,” he whispered to the shell, before hopping off. His mount landed not with a bang, but with a pathetic crash. “I wonder what happened to it,” he wondered aloud.

Grolem 13 offered his hand for Rayman to land on. “My friend,” he boomed, with a grin that looked less psychotic than his Guardian peers, “you’ve done me a remarkable kindness. Allow me to return the favour.” With his other hand, he reached behind his back, pulling the Mask of Mirth out. Compared to the other three Masks, this one looked more gentle, like a yellow smiling face, with three horn-shapes protruding from the top.

“Thank you,” said Rayman, glancing at the prison yard nearby. “But what about the kids?”

“Oh, their freedom is at hand,” said Grolem 13, twisting above the ground to show Rayman more of the yard. As he watched, the robot dinosaur stumbled through the gates, blinded by Clark punching its singular eye out. The debris collapsed on its neck, decapitating it completely. Its lifeless body fell to the ground, granting the baby Glutes held within an easy escape. “Hey, kiddies!” he heard Clark say. “What’s say we get you back to your mummy?”

The sight brought Rayman to hysterics. “With a big lug like Clark,” he said cheerfully, “I don’t feel so alone on this journey.”

“Your humility is most impressive,” Grolem 13 replied, handing the Mask to him. “Take this to Polokus, and we shall turn the tide of this war.” Rayman took the mask in hand, and gazed at its tranquil visage. Then, as the Guardian watched, his individual limbs melted into sparkles of pure energy that dwindled in the air. He smiled to himself, turning to Clark. “My friend!” he yelled. “May I assist you with a portal?”

“Sure!” Clark replied. “But I can easily carry ‘em home myself!” He gathered the kids around, bowing before them. “So, how d’ya wanna go back?” he asked.

“We wanna ride home on your back!” the kids replied, almost (but not quite) in unison. “It’s so much fun!”

Clark chuckled, inviting them onto his shoulders. He gave the Guardian an amused shrug. “Be it so!” Grolem 13 bellowed. “Have fun with your counterattack!” He spun his arms together and rocketed into the sky, disappearing beyond the clouds. Clark watched him go, and heard the familiar sound of Pirates stomping and firing cannons behind him. “Well, time to go!” he declared, sprinting out of the wrecked yard. Before the Pirates could follow, he had disappeared on the horizon.

Chapter Text

A breeze met Rayman in Polokus’ grotto. The leaves rustled from the tree, and the grass swayed underfoot as he made his way to Polokus. The deity’s hands swayed with the wind, showing a little more movement than he was used to. He took the Mask of Mirth before Rayman was ready to offer it. “At last, the Final Mask,” he whispered. “My reason to live among my creations. Mirth, laughter, childlike joy. It was the first thing I gave up to join the gods in higher realms.” He lowered the Mask, and looked Rayman in the eye. “Bravo, Rayman. You’ve brought me back!”

The Mask clicked into place in its slot, while both hero and god watched. Polokus took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. “Yes, I think it’s time I started living in this world once more,” he mused with a dry chuckle. “The Pirates won’t last long now.”

“So, what happens now?” asked Rayman, still wrapping his head around speaking to this deity, this ethereal being in corporeal form. “Now you’re back, what’s next?”

“I shall use my powers to destroy their forts, and rid the world of the robots that infest it” he explained. “I see you and Clark already destroyed one of their generators, and I thank you for that. You have cut their supply of new soldiers.” His arms sagged. “For my powers have limits. On earth, the lums make me invincible. In the air, I am as vulnerable as a newborn.”

“So I’ll have to take on Razorbeard on the Prison Ship?” Rayman asked, understanding the implications.

“Correct,” said Polokus. “Before you leave, I would like to tell you about where you came from. I’m sure you’ve wondered where you came from?”

Rayman scratched his hair awkwardly. “It hasn’t been a big priority,” he admitted. “But I suppose it would be nice to know.”

He held his hand over Rayman’s head, transferring energy into him. “You are the only other being in the Glade I did not create,” he explained. “Like me, you were created from lums, in a time and world older than this.” Images started to flow through Rayman’s head. He could see plains made out of musical instruments, a city crafted from an art canvas, and a chateau built with cakes and candy. “This world had its own ecosystem,” said Polokus. “Its own breed of lums, which they called Electoons. All of that was created from my childish dreams.

“One day, a nightmare crept into this primordial valley, and threatened to disrupt that fragile balance. In their panic, the fairies decided to create their own hero. Somebody strong enough to fight the nightmare. They gathered all the lums they could find- not Electoons, but the lums you and I know- and created you in an ancient forest. Do you remember this?”

As he spoke, those memories, once vague clouds in his brain, suddenly solidified and turned tangible. Rayman could recall meeting Bzzit in the Dream Forest, fighting Mr. Sax in Band Land, and confronting the evil Mr. Dark in the Candy Chateau. His memories stopped after that victory. There was no fanfare, no hero’s return. He simply defeated the bad guy, and couldn’t remember beyond that. “Polokus,” he asked, “what happened after that?”

Polokus’ eyes drifted to the ground. “The gods ridiculed me for my childish creations,” he muttered. “To join those higher beings, I had to give up my whimsical spirit, and create the world afresh, as a mature being would understand it.” He chuckled again, but with a hint of bitterness. “Considering how goofy my creations turned out, it is a wonder they ever let me join their discussions.” He looked up at Rayman, baring shame in his eyes. “I am sorry,” he said.

“You destroyed the world to rebuild it?” asked Rayman, horrified by what Polokus was implying.

“I destroyed nothing,” said Polokus. “Merely pushed the thoughts to one side. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, they live still. Betilla the Fairy, the Great Protoon, even your former ally, Bzzit.” He sighed. “But because I did not create you, I could not deny your existence.

“When I finished dreaming up the Glade of Dreams, I had forgot all about you. You washed up on that beach, found by the new fairies, as a stray tangent of who I used to be. Who I was not allowed to be.” He removed his hand from Rayman’s head. “I doubt the lums would have told you that.”

Polokus’ podium rose from the pillar. Slowly, it turned, showing each Mask to Rayman one at a time. It spun faster, then faster, until their colours blurred together, and the pillar’s form faded into a translucent vortex. “This portal will take you to the Prison Ship,” he said. “I request that you fight for joy, Rayman. Fight for carefree days with your friends. For innocent pranks and a happy-go-lucky spirit. That’s what it truly means to live.”

Rayman walked up to the vortex, brushing his nose against its energy. He felt a strange tingle from it. “Polokus,” he said, “this is your world. It can be whatever you want.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll make it one you can be proud of.” He walked fearlessly into the vortex, and melted into balls of energy inside. The vortex turned solid, and the podium landed on the old, mask-less pillar.

Nobody stood atop that pillar now. The grotto was empty.

“We want our daddy!” the babies cried, hugging Uglette’s foot.

“Silence, whelp!” a Pirate cried, kicking the baby across the floor. He bounced across the plain, slamming into a nearby tree. Uglette tried not to cry, but all the guns pointed at her made it impossible not to. Even Ly, the great Fairy, had been pinned to a wall by the huge, sudden surge in Pirates. With Clark lying dazed by an upturned rock, there was no way she could fight them off without more coming in. “You’ve not made this easy for us,” snarled the Pirate. “We’re done taking you prisoner. Now, you’re only good to us, dead!”

Ly closed her eyes, feeling her body go limp. Forgive me, Rayman, she thought. I have failed you.

A loud crackle filled the air. She opened her eyes, and saw huge barrages of lightning surge through the Rainbow Cliffs. It poured through every Pirate, beheading several at one time. All the others only had time to blink, before their bodies were smashed too. Just as quickly as they had invaded their sanctum, they had been vanquished even faster. In mere seconds, only scraps of metal and confused red lums remained. Uglette ran to cradle her dazed child.

“It can’t be,” Murfy whispered. “All of that energy, that could only be-”

“You would be correct,” spoke a wisened voice. Ly gasped, and saw a green, diminutive figure descend from the sky, wearing a long, purple hat. “I apologise for leaving you for so long,” said Polokus, cracking a smile.

“POLOKUS!” Ly screamed. “It’s you! It’s really you!” She leapt into the sky and threw herself around him in a big hug. The sight left Murfy and the Teensie kings speechless. Since when had she been so excited about meeting somebody? “Then Rayman has succeeded,” she sighed, tears welling in her eyes.

“Yes,” said Polokus, landing on the ground. “And he has gone to finish the battle in the skies. Now we must assist him, by finishing it on land.” He waved an arm over Clark, snapping him back to attention. “With my help, they shall never get the better of you again, my friend.”

“About time!” Clark bellowed. “All these dumb sneak attacks are really wounding my pride.”

“Ey, frogface!” Uglette croaked, tapping him on the shoulder. “What about me ‘usband? Are ya sayin’ ya can’t rescue ‘im?”

“Frogface, hah,” mused Polokus. “Yes, I suppose a new form would suit me once this has passed.” He turned to face Uglette. “I have sent Rayman to rescue him,” he assured her. “Soon, you shall be reunited with him.” He clenched a fist and slammed it into the opposing hand. “But before then, let us direct our anger at the true enemy.”

Clark pounded the ground with both fists. The Teensie Kings stood atop each other, waving their combined body around like a snake. Uglette slapped a nearby tree, leaving a handprint deep in the bark. Ly’s arms and fists glowed with a magic pulse. She was ready to fight. Even Murfy picked up a long, sharpened stick, and grinned with pleasure. “We’re the resistance, right?” he said. “Well, let’s get resisting!”

Ly watched her friends prepare themselves for battle. A sense of hope filled her very soul. Rayman had helped them get to this point. Now they would return the favour.

This was going to be very satisfying.

Chapter Text

Razorbeard didn’t depend solely on Spyglass to learn of Rayman’s progress. How could he? He kept getting reports from other Pirates about bases being lost, captives being rescued as quickly as they were taken, all punctuated by a rising atmosphere of panic within the Buccaneer. Once, his brave soldiers strode with force down his halls, dragging Minisaurs by the tails, or Teensies by the nose. Now, those halls stood empty, with tons of cages yet to be filled. It was only a matter of time before they were broken free.

He was losing his grip. Action had to be taken. And as it happened, he was receiving a special guest today to discuss his options. A small, yellow saucer soared across the sky, sliding into one of the Prison Ship’s many docks. A broad, purple-faced man marched into Razorbeard’s sanctum, carrying a suitcase in one limbless hand, saluting with the other. His hands are exactly like Rayman’s, he mused. His pitch better be strong.

“Rayman poisoning your life?” the salesman began, opening the suitcase. A bronze projector suddenly sprung from it, swiftly displaying a crude, grotesque caricature of Rayman. “I’ve got the antidote.” With the press of a button, the image changed. Now it displayed the diagram of a large, bulky robot. “Armed with the latest power booster,” he continued, pointing with his stick at its cuffed arms and broad feet, “nothing can stop it.”

The projector now displayed a silent video of the robot, in black-and-white, smashing through giant rocks with its fists. “You can control it yourself,” continued the salesman, pointing at its flat, insectoid head, “or put it in self-pilot.” The video cut to the robot in a small village, surrounded by fire. “It can kill, crush, destroy, torture, pull ears.” As he spoke, the video cut to the robot doing those exact things, perfectly synchronised with the salesman’s quick verbal tempo. “It’s legs are programmed to squash fleeing victims.” That particular image put a very wide grin beneath Razorbeard’s facial namesake. “In short, it does everything, except the dishes.”

The projector’s video stopped playing, and returned to the robot diagram. Razorbeard sat on his throne, folding his arms. “And what’s the name of this literal killing machine?” he asked. The brochure they sent him had teased whatever its name was.

The salesman smiled. “The Grolgoth,” he replied. “Decide quickly, I have other clients waiting.”

Razorbeard thought for a moment, imagining the Grolgoth in a sea of fire, holding Rayman limp in its claws. With this, I could destroy Rayman, he thought. Crush him. Smash him. His decision had been made long ago. “I’ll take it!”

The projector closed, sliding back into the suitcase. It clicked shut and bounced back into his hand. “You won’t regret it,” he promised. “Now, we shall discuss the price after-”

“Here’s the money,” Razorbeard interrupted, slamming a button. A large treasure chest slammed into the room, breaking its hinges open. Large pools of coins and jewels spilled out. “It’s all there!” he beamed. “Count it if you like.”

The salesman stared at the treasure in surprise, dropping his composed facade for a brief moment. So much money, all in one place, and it didn’t bother him to give it away. He turned to Razorbeard with a firm salute. “Oh, I trust you.”

Whenever Rayman stepped into a portal, there was a short, but noticeable gap between him entering it and emerging elsewhere. With this one, it was like stepping through a door. Before he knew it, he was suddenly in a dark control room, leading to an iron walkway overlooking a vast warehouse filled with pistons pumping in magma. He turned, and saw a wall of monitors opposite him, each displaying a different walking shell. Some were playbacks of him riding around on them. Others were looping videos of shells sleeping, undisturbed.

“What could it mean?” he asked himself, leaning on a wide console at the centre. His body pressed against a large, green button with a loud click. He leapt forward, just as a large crane appeared in the piston room, dropping a metal walking shell on the walkway outside. It looked around, a little confused to why it was there, before it noticed the intruder within. The way it leapt and whinnied, however, it looked more excited than alarmed. When it ran inside, rather than give pursuit, it immediately stopped and bowed its tip to him, inviting him on. Rayman patted it, a little perplexed, and glanced at the monitors one more time. Did it understand what those images meant?

If it does, that’s good enough for me, he decided, hopping on. The shell reared up twice, before bolting out of the room, across the walkway. Rayman looked around, wondering where it could be taking him. There didn’t seem to be any obvious ways out of this chamber. In fact, the shell seemed to be taking him straight into the lava itself. It ran off the walkway and plunged, before he had time to react.

Then, its engine spluttered to life, and it pulled out of its sheer drop. The shell rose from its descent, and carried Rayman across the chamber, through a vent on the other side. “Incredible!” he gasped, still relieved he hadn’t been burnt to a crisp. The vent took the two through a maze of cylindrical tunnels, complex structures that crudely combined wood with steel, which it yawed and twisted between quite casually. Rayman very quickly forgot which way was down, and started feeling nauseous. “Hey, be careful,” he exclaimed, trying not to throw up.

The shell chortled mischievously, descending down a long, narrow pipe. A large grate awaited them at the end. Rather than buck him off and plough into it, the shell kept flying, accelerating on approach. It smashed straight through the vent, then pulled up into a long, narrow hallway filled with cages and outstretched arms.

Now it bucked him off. It had taken him to the Prison Ship’s main cells. All the Glutes, Teensies and animals could see Rayman among them. “Help,” a weak child croaked. “Please.”

Rayman dismounted the shell, which turned and ran back the opposite way of the hall, deeper into the Prison Ship. “Back away, kiddies,” he warned. The children did as they were told, while he prepared a powered pellet. The iron bars blew apart effortlessly, freeing the captives inside. He threw a pellet up next, releasing an enslaved Teensie, along with a bird and fairy. He threw pellet after pellet, smashing cage after cage, until the whole hallway was filled with joy and life.

A blue vortex filled the hallway, inviting the prisoners in. A Glute ran up to it, seeing the faint image of his mother slapping a Pirate’s face right off. “MUMMY!” he screamed, running through. A Teensie followed, seeing his kings band together to squeeze another Pirate’s torso with their combined form. “Kudos to Rayman!” he cheered, running through. “Hurrah!”

Rayman noticed the blue portal too. Who could have sent it? He peered through, and saw Ly and Polokus meditating together, channeling their energies. A few shattered Pirate bodies surrounded them, and his jaw dropped in wonder. “Get out of the Prison Ship, kids!” he said, snapping back to attention. For every fairy and Glute that ran free, there was still one prisoner unaccounted for. The reason he came to this accursed ship in the first place. “I still have to find Globox.”

“You got this, Rayman!” a Glute cheered, watching him run up a flight of stairs. “Go save our daddy, and give the nasty Razorbeard what-for!” He turned and bounced through the portal. It faded after he left, leaving only an empty hallway, without even the most destitute of slaves to fill it.

The Buccaneer. Current prisoner count: 1.

Chapter Text

Spyglass ran through empty halls. Everywhere he turned, there were no Pirates left to address him, or even to trip him up. Hours ago, he saw them depart on Warships to lay siege to the Rainbow Cliffs, and reclaim their former territory. None of them had come back. His footsteps echoed in the hangars. It was starting to feel like only him and Razorbeard were left on board, and with the news he had to deliver, he wished he wasn’t there. “Come in, you useless grub!” his Admiral snarled.

He stopped at the door. When he spoke, his fate was sealed. But with everything going on, he probably didn’t have much longer left either way. “Rayman has the Four Masks,” Spyglass said, his voice eerily calm, “and he is on the ship.”

There was no surprise in Razorbeard’s eyes. “You’ve failed me again,” he whispered coldly. “I warned you, didn’t I?” He pulled out a remote controller from his throne. “Let’s see how well you swim in molten lava!” A trap door opened beneath Spyglass. He had enough time to salute before disappearing in a fiery death. “Meanwhile, I’ll just handle this little problem myself.”

Razorbeard lowered the throne, and hopped off. He walked through empty halls to the hangar. As promised, the Grolgoth waited for him. It was either going to justify its price tag, or he would lose everything. “I know how to lure Rayman to me.”

Storm clouds gathered above the crow’s nest of the Prison Ship. Lightning struck the deck below, and its smoke was wafting through the Grolgoth’s vents. Its console picked through the noise, and identified the sound of footsteps coming up the nearby staircase. Globox, hanging from the adjacent pole, could hear it too. “Identify target,” Razorbeard commanded, peering through the scope. With a button smash, his weapon raised an arm cannon, ready to splat the blue Glute.

“Leave him alone!” Rayman shouted, emerging from the stairs. Razorbeard leaned forward in his seat, shocked. After all this time, he had finally seen his biggest enemy, in the flesh. He composed himself quickly, turning a dial on the console. The Grolgoth moved its arm just a few inches, and fired a cannon straight at the stairs. It ploughed into Rayman and snapped the staircase right off the crow’s nest. A plume of smoke rose from the wreckage.

“Now you’re alone for eternity!” Razorbeard laughed, finally relaxing in his seat. He had lost everything thanks to that limbless pest. But now, he was dealt with. And he hadn’t lost everything yet. He eased his hands, and was considering what else he’d do with the Grolgoth, when a pair of golden fingers wrapped around the edge of the nest. Rayman leapt back on, giving Razorbeard his second shock. “Huh?” he cried.

Rayman glanced down the nest, at the mangled wreck of the staircase. Globox still hung from his pole, seemingly unharmed. “Are you okay, Globox?” he asked, just to be sure.

Globox tried to salute, which wasn’t easy when he was suspended upside down by the ankles. “I’ll be fine!” he yelled back. “Now go!”

Rayman nodded, and marched up to the Grolgoth. He charged a pellet in his hand. Its scope picked it up immediately. “I’ve got you now, matey!” he declared. The machine leapt into the air, and slammed its elbow into the ground, ready to crush him then and there. Rayman jumped back in shock, and his bulk crashed through the nest’s wiry floor. “Heey!” he cried, as he plummeted into the hull, while his foe watched.

Luckily for him, the rest of the floor collapsed not long after, dropping Rayman into the dark void within. He tumbled down the metal shaft, trying to spin his hair to slow his descent. A piece of shrapnel slammed into him, and everything began to blur. All he could focus on was a familiar voice in his head. Don’t be afraid, Rayman. I’m here.

When his senses returned, he stood on a metal platform suspended above a river of lava, tended to by the walking shell, ecstatic to see him again. Behind it, he saw the faint visage of Ly’s face. “Bravo, Rayman,” she said. “You were sensational. Thanks to you, hope has come back into our hearts.” She smiled, looking at the shell. “On land, we eliminated all the Pirates. Destroy Razorbeard, and our victory shall be complete!” Her face faded, but her lips said one last thing. “I’m proud of you,” she seemed to say.

Something creaked behind him. Rayman and the shell turned, and saw the Grolgoth holding onto two pipes, keeping itself above the magma. He could practically see Razorbeard’s panicked face inside. It raised a foot, and fired a shot into the platform. The shell kicked Rayman onto its body, and it flew away just before it landed.

“You persistent fool!” Razorbeard screamed, climbing up the pipes while the shell spiralled up the magma’s main chamber. “You think your pathetic lives matter so much? There are other worlds out there, and they’ve got far more use for this rich world than you could ever imagine!”

Rayman noticed a small, bandaged part of the pipe. With a nudge, he steered the shell up to it, preparing a small pellet to fire. A fiery ball shot into view, forcing him to dive out of harm’s way.

The shell pulled back up, and started to dive towards the damaged part. It gave a small, satisfied whinny. However, Rayman steered it away, mere inches before impact. “I’m not letting you die for me,” he said, patting it gently. He steered it back towards the pipe, keeping an eye on the Grolgoth below. Slowly, it was clawing its way up the pipes, shooting fire from its feet to accelerate its ascent. He threw another pellet into the weak link, and entered a nosedive.

“Think of how many Pirates you’ve lost trying to stop us!” he yelled, as the damaged pipe started to buckle. “This is our land, our home, and I’ll fight with every fiber of my being so my friends can enjoy it!” The Grolgoth lost its grip, and sunk into the lava. The pipe collapsed, and sliced its head off as the lava swallowed it. “Including you, my friend,” he whispered, patting the shell’s flank.

Razorbeard hopped out of the Grolgoth’s body, fitting himself into a small, yellow saucer. “Oh, so brave,” he jeered, trying to make his terror sound more fake than he felt. “But I’ve got one last surprise for you.” He pressed a button, and immediately flew back up the crow’s nest. “That thing cost me a fortune,” he grumbled. “But that failsafe made it worth every penny.”

5...

A timer clicked in the Grolgoth. The shell seemed to hear it, and took off after Razorbeard.

4…

“He’s getting away!” Rayman cried.

3…

Razorbeard turned, and saw Rayman gaining on him. He let out a short scream, accidentally slamming his fist into a small lever.

FIRE!!!

The Grolgoth exploded, sending ripples into the magma. It immediately went from fluid to volatile, ripping through the metal bulk of the Buccaneer. A plume of clouds consumed Rayman, Razorbeard and the shell. Outside, the Prison Ship snapped in two, before explosions consumed both halves, annihilating it entirely.

Globox awoke amid the wreckage, his ankles freed from their rope. He sat up, and saw only smoke around him. “Rayman?” he mumbled, nursing his head. All this devastation around him filled his heart with dread. Was this the wreck of the Prison Ship? The last thing he remembered, several lightning strikes broke through the main deck, before a sudden explosion ripped through it, and everything went black.

Slowly, the morning sun started to creep through the fading smoke. The air was still filled with the crackle of fire, but Globox could hear birds crying and children cheering. “Rayman, where are you?” he asked, throwing apart wreckage. Panic started to twist his heart. Where could his friend have gone. The Pirates had been vanquished, and he’d finally been set free. But if Rayman wasn’t here to share the celebrations, was there any real point?

Something caught his eye. A small, yellow object covered in shrapnel. “DADDY! DADDY!” he heard his children cry behind him. He turned in shock, and saw both baby Glutes and Teensies wander into the wreckage. Uglette followed, cradling four kids in her arms. “HA HA!” she screamed. “E did it! Me daft ‘usband is back, everyone!” Ly joined the crowd, while a small, long-armed frog thing descended from a small, floating podium.

“Hey, everyone,” said Globox, a little bewildered. “Gosh, Rayman really did it, didn’t he?” He turned and dug through the shrapnel, trying to unearth the yellow thing.

“The battle is won,” said Ly with an audible smile. “Razorbeard seems to have escaped, but he’s lost everything.” She chuckled. “I can’t wait to show Rayman what he’s achieved.”

Globox felt something, letting out a gasp. “Rayman saved Daddy!” the children screamed. “Where’s Rayman?”

Slowly, painfully, Globox turned, holding a single, yellow shoe in his hands. A silence spread among the crowd, leaving only the dying flames to fill the air.

Chapter Text

The shoe sat on Polokus’ pillar, in his grotto watched by the giant moon. Despite the huge number of attendees, the only sound anybody could hear was the gentle flow of the water, and the rustling of leaves. The four Teensie Kings stood together, the crown sat in front of the middle two. Polokus stood next to the pillar, gazing at the mourners before him. Naturally, they were taking this harder than him. “It pains me that we are gathered here,” he said. “I owe my life to Rayman just as much as you.”

The only response he got was a small nod from Ly. Globox started sobbing, trying his hardest not to cry openly. A few stray tears crept down his body. “Rayman was a true enigma of a character,” he continued. “Was he a man, a vegetable, or some kind of thingamajig?” Globox stared at him, seemingly hurt by his comments. Ly was gritting her teeth, making a slicing motion against her neck. He immediately realised how tactless that sounded.

“But the point was never who, or what, Rayman was,” he continued. “What mattered to all of us was his character. He was a true hero. Somebody who valued the lives and happiness of those around him just as much as his own. He was humble, but never self-deprecating. It is thanks to him that the Heart of the World is now restored.” He cleared his throat. “Despite all the hardships he faced, he maintained an optimistic, almost childlike view of the world.” He lowered his head. “In fact, there’s a reason for that.”

Ly gave him a puzzled look. She knew exactly what he wanted to say, but was now really the time?

“You all know that Rayman was found by the fairies on a beach,” Polokus explained. “None of you knew where he came from. You see, I did not create him. The fairies did.” The Teensies turned to glance at Ly in confusion. “No, the original fairies,” he added. “Before the Glade of Dreams, there was a valley. A place where all my childish fantasies and whimsies were made reality. He was created there, to be their hero.” A thought occurred to him. “And once again, he has left the world he was destined to save.”

Globox wailed in despair. “OH, RAYMAN!” he cried, staggering up to the pillar. “This all Globox’s fault. None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t come to save Globox!” He threw his arms around the pillar, rubbing his teary face against it. The impact seemed to nudge the shoe a little. “Oh, Rayman,” he muttered repeatedly.

Ly ran to comfort him. “It’s okay,” she whispered, patting him on the shoulder. “We all miss him. But as your best friend, I can see why you miss him most.”

“What, an’ you don’t?” Uglette cried. “Fer a friend of ‘is, you seem very chill ‘bout him bein’ gone.”

Ly shot her a dirty look. Before she could respond, Murfy flew ahead, patting Uglette on the shoulder. “Trust me, she misses him,” he whispered. “I saw how she reacted when it really hit her.” He paused, wondering if he should go into detail. One small glance at Ly made it clear he should choose his next words carefully. “Some of us can only cry in private,” he went with. That seemed to appease both women.

“Come on, Globox,” Ly whispered, gently pulling him away from the pillar. Reluctantly, he followed. His eyes cast up to the lost shoe. It had shifted again. “Ly, look,” he said, pointing.

The shoe moved again. Ly gasped. The mourners stood up in shock. A small blue spark rose from the shoe, as it hobbled towards the edge of the podium. Behind them, they heard someone emerge from a path in the trees.

It was Rayman, hopping along while resting on a walking shell. “Hey,” he said weakly. “Thought I’d say my last goodbyes too.” The shoe jumped off the podium and snapped right into Rayman’s limbless body. He tested his weight on it, and felt his strength returning to him. The mourners suddenly jumped to their feet with a collective cheer, and the mood immediately shifted. “RAYMAN!!!” They all cheered, running around him. The shell jumped back in a panic, not wanting to be bumped against.

Rayman welcomed each one of them. He patted the Glutes, bowed before the Teensies, and gave Clark the biggest high-five he could. But there, standing by the pillar, was the real man of the hour. “GLOBOX!!” he yelled, tackling him into a hug. The big Glute rocked on his backside, swaying like a doll as he cradled his friend. “You made it!”

Globox cried again, and rubbed his head against Rayman’s. “Oh, Rayman!” he sobbed. “Oh, you’re back. Globox and Rayman, together again.”

Ly cleared her throat awkwardly. “How did you survive?” she asked, not wanting to bother the two. “That explosion practically took out everything Pirate-related across the Glade.”

All Rayman could do was shrug. “It knocked the shell out of the air,” he replied. “I remember landing in this cold mountain range, like nothing I’d seen before. Somehow it survived too, and we tried to make our way back.” He looked around Polokus’ grotto. “Wow,” he gasped. “I thought this place was on another plane of reality.”

“Well, it was,” said Polokus. “I decided to bring it into the Glade once the Pirates were defeated.” He paused. “It was convenient for the funeral, I must admit.”

Even Ly chuckled at that. “Did you see what happened to Razorbeard?”

Rayman shook his head. “Did I get him?”

“He got away,” said Polokus, rather bitterly. “Fortunately, that battle cost him everything. All his wealth is gone. Wherever he goes, he’ll be completely skint. That Grolgoth cost him half of his treasure. It amazes me he was so desperate to kill you that he’d buy it.”

“Well, if it means he won’t be coming back,” said Rayman, getting back to his feet. “So, what now? Am I gonna be sent to some other world to rescue?”

Polokus shook his head with a smile. “I think it’s time we celebrated your first victory,” he said. As he spoke, his frog-faced form started to expand and shift. His hat melted into it, and huge tufts of fur covered his skin, including a long, ginger beard. When the transformation was complete, Polokus stood as a large, sloth-like figure, holding a small smoking pipe in his right hand. A large parasol took form in his opposite hand, along with a small seat that he collapsed into. “From now on,” he said, “I am Polokus, the Bubble Dreamer. And I am going nowhere.”

Rayman, Globox and Ly stared at their deity in confusion. “What does this even mean?” asked Ly.

“It means,” said Polokus, “I’d like to hang with you guys. As friends.”

Rayman and Globox looked at each other, and shrugged. “Another friend’s fine by me,” said Rayman.

Six months later, deep in the primordial forest, Polokus sat on a long tree branch, staring at the bubbles coming from his smoking pipe. He could see different dreams and ideas in each one. A purple-headed guy with a bow tie; a white rabbit screaming maniacally; a confused French man patting the face of the bubble, trying to break out.

Rayman, Globox and Ly reclined beside him. Fruit fell into Rayman’s hand, and went straight into his mouth. Globox snored loudly, almost in sync with his friend’s diet. If they practiced this, Ly realised, they could get very, very annoying. An Electoon marched by, giving Ly a salute before diving off the branch, and suddenly soaring back into the sky. “This world has turned truly strange,” she thought out loud. On the horizon, she could see a desert made from drums and didgeridoos, while a giant chateau made out of candy sat beneath the afternoon sun.

“Ayman-Ray? Ayman-Ray?” a voice started crying. Ly sat up, nudging Rayman’s foot. He stopped eating and turned. A thin woman, red-haired and dressed in green, suddenly flew into view, with wings so thin he couldn’t easily see them. “Oh-way, Ayman-Ray,” she gasped. “Ank-thay oodness-gay ou’re-yay ere-hay.”

“Uh,” Rayman murmured. “What are you saying?”

“I’ll take care of that,” Polokus mumbled, snapping his fingers.

“Rayman, it’s me,” the mysterious fairy continued. “Betilla. Don’t you understand?”

“BETILLA!” Rayman screamed, jumping back. His head slammed against the tree, knocking all the other fruit down into the forest below. Some of it bounced off Globox’s girth, with one landing in his mouth. The taste woke him up too. He shook his head, trying not to fall back asleep. “Hey Rayman,” he said, “who’s this?”

“Oh, Rayman,” Betilla said, sighing in relief. “It’s been so weird. The last thing I remember, you were fighting Mr. Dark in the Candy Chateau. The Great Protoon was restored, and we were all getting ready to celebrate your victory. But you never showed up. After a few days, everything just went all dark!”

“That would be my fault,” said Polokus, lifting a finger in response.

“You’re Betilla?” asked Ly, looking at the fairy before her. Why did she look so different to her? What were those weird wings growing from her back? “Rayman told me much about you.”

“Well, that’s all well and good,” said Betilla nervously. “But I’ve got some bad news.” Rayman faced her, listening intently. “The Magician is gone! Since everything came back, I haven’t seen him anywhere!”

“That’s strange,” Polokus mumbled. “Could’ve sworn I brought everyone back.”

“Come with me,” she instructed. “I’ve heard rumblings of him being seen in this forest.” She turned and dove back into the canopy below.

Rayman looked at his friends. Both of them were up and ready. “Let’s go,” he said with a grin, leaping off the tree. With a shared chuckle, Ly and Globox followed, and joined their limbless friend on his next adventure.

Chapter Text

What do you do when you grew up with a game, fell in love with it, but realise it’s slowly being forgotten about?

A while ago, I discovered a Discord server for Rayman fans. While there’s a lot of creativity there, as you’d expect, the resounding sentiment is frustration at Ubisoft for not supporting the series as much as they used to. It got to the point where discovering a cut character from an educational game was being treated as a cool new discovery. Sure, Rayman Origins and Legends exist, and are fantastic, but they’re nothing like Rayman 2 or 3. And that would be fine, if we had an alternative to those old games.

So I figured the fandom could do with a little positivity. The TV Tropes page only lists one fanfic, and that’s supposedly a dark fic, which doesn’t paint a very strong picture for a unified fandom. Spyro got a very extensive fan novelisation of the original trilogy, which captured a lot of what made those games great while changing enough to make it still work as a story. Maybe I could do the same for Rayman 2, the one I have the fondest memories for?

Most of the dialogue is taken straight from the game. And the port with the most dialogue was the PS1 port- conveniently, the one I grew up with. In all other versions, the Guardians get big titles as they appear. On PS1, they directly talk to Rayman- even Umber, the peaceful Guardian. Of course, the Fourth Mask doesn’t have a Guardian in most versions, except Revolution on PS2, so why not add him in? Oh, but what would his Sanctuary be called? Fat lot of difference it made, but it was fun finding ways to plausibly expand on the world.

The other factor was boredom. I had the whole month of September to while away before university started, so I figured I could do something to keep me busy, instead of just lounging around in my free time. So I had an idea. I’d write a novelisation of Rayman 2, writing one chapter a day for thirty days. It’d be just like NaNoWriMo, but with a slightly less strict word count of 1,500 words per day. I’d done NaNoWriMo before, so how hard could this be?

Now let me tell you something about National Novel Writing Month. While you do have to militantly write one new chapter a day through November, (at least in theory) nobody needs to see it. You could write the most basic of drivel, and either abandon it forever, or write a new draft once your brain’s recovered. Because yes, writing so much so consistently is exhausting. Sure, it’s easy enough to share my own thoughts like this, but telling a story like this? Phew.

Now here’s the problem. I wasn’t writing chapters to be revised later. I was writing them, and immediately uploading them to Ao3 as soon as they were done. At least once, I did this falling shy of the self-imposed word count, and had to sheepishly correct it the following day. While I write most of my stories on my phone, I had to write this on my PC at home, which is in the living room. I don’t know if it’s my autism or some undiagnosed attention disorder, but I normally find it very hard to concentrate in the living room unless I’m pushed against a wall.

Consequently, I was running on fumes while writing a lot of this. There were definitely cliches I tried to avoid, like introducing convenient new solutions to the current problem, but I definitely noticed I was repeating certain phrases or descriptions. A lot of characters are described as ‘turning,’ because I couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. If I’d let myself breathe and take this more slowly, I might have been more willing to deviate from the narrative structure of the game, and make this into something truly great.

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy myself, however. The whole arc where Ly disguises herself as a Pirate to smuggle Rayman into a Pirate camp was really fun to write. And the chapter where Rayman awakens Polokus and discovers his past from Rayman 1 wasn’t tiring to write in the slightest. Plus, it taught me a lot about good character writing; it’s important to be mindful of what your characters wouldn’t say in a given situation.

With that in mind, I tried to follow the characterisation of everyone as they appear in Rayman 2. Globox, for example, becomes a snarky, fourth-wall breaking comic relief in 3, (and so does Murfy) but in here he’s just an innocent oaf. So I tried to avoid lines that could come across as sarcastic or quick-witted. I wrote Rayman as a sincere, determined hero with a childish spirit. Sorta like Sora from Kingdom Hearts, but without elbows. Even Ly, who has to pretend to be a dry, coarse woman from a rough background, is meant to come across as benevolent and wise the rest of the time. Like the mentor figure from Joseph Campbell’s monomyth.

Speaking of which, I followed the level-based structure of this game very closely. Some levels got expanded into two chapters, and others got merged into one. In fact, this was meant to be the final chapter, with Rayman, Ly and Globox meeting Betilla, like how Origins starts. But as I was writing the final scene with Rayman’s “funeral,” I realised there wasn’t enough narrative depth to make both into separate chapters, so I blended them together. I don’t think that’s just my tired brain talking.

If I could do this again, I’d change the narrative structure far more. This story is generally a swashbuckling adventure with steampunk elements, tied together in a Franco-Belgian package. Maybe I’d watch films like Romancing the Stone or Pirates of the Caribbean, learn how they structure their stories, and apply something similar here. That might also allow me to crib elements from all the games, even Rayman M. (Just what is Tilly’s relation to Ly? Does Razorwife live with Razorbeard?) If they have romance, that might be an issue; I tried to avoid hinting at romance between Rayman and Ly, but for all I know it comes across as the tale of star-crossed lovers. I still think they’re just friends.

It’s not too surprising why there isn’t a stronger, unified Rayman fandom. There’s a scarcity of games, and whatever we got seemed to revise the rules in small, but noticeable ways. The first had hills full of instruments and crayons, but the second ditches that for wooden fortresses and swamps. The third, in all fairness, has quite a diverse range of environments, though the characters are almost unrecognisable in how they interact with one another. Unfortunately for us, the dev team at Ubisoft Montpellier seemed pretty eager to move on once the Rabbids became popular. And while Beyond Good & Evil showed a lot of promise, we’re still waiting for a sequel as of this writing. For a small moment, there was hope when Origins came out, along with games like Child of Light and Valiant Hearts, suggesting Ubisoft was honouring its French roots once again.

I miss those days.

To me, Rayman is a game about childhood innocence. Back when these games came out, Ubisoft seemed pretty comfortable with their young audience for these games. Sure, they were experimenting with games like Splinter Cell or Far Cry, but we still got those silly, action-heavy platformers presented in such an anarchic way. Now, it feels like they’re ashamed of those childish origins, and are keen to move on, and not for the better. I think Polokus’ whole spiel about being chastised for creating such a childish world is a reflection of my opinion on that. There is a space for Far Cry, but it shouldn’t come at Rayman’s expense.

On the whole, this has been a very unique, challenging exercise. A flawed, but hopefully compelling love letter to the world(s) of Rayman. And while I’m glad to be done with it, I did enjoy myself on the way. It meant not just wasting my free time, and planning for days when I’d be busier than normal, and preparing a buffer to make things easier for myself. I love Rayman. It perfectly encapsulates that French anarchic spirit you’d see in Asterix, and marries it with consistently solid, (if ever-changing) game design. I’m sad to know Michel Ancel is no longer involved in the game industry, and that Ubisoft as a company are too poorly-run to bother with the series anymore. (To say nothing of their treatment of female employees.)

But once upon a time, a small studio in Montpellier designed one of the best video game platformers I’ve ever played. And I will always be grateful for that. Even if I grew up with the PS1 version. Boy, this fanfic makes that look like the Dreamcast version.