A flame was seen above the ruins of Wa-Kia, streaking downwards until it disappeared among the trees. Any children who happened to see it thought that a shooting star was passing by and wished upon it. Moments later, they changed their minds as a gentle earthquake shivered under their feet. The land almost seemed to sigh, as a faint plume of dust and ash was stirred up near the horizon. A sigh seemed to rush through the land, passing through the hills and echoing into the canyons beyond. Mothers hugged their children, families wept together, those without families wept alone. The end had come.
Far away, the end had come indeed, but not the kind of end people were thinking. Wa-Kia had been transformed into a massive crater, great spires of rock jutting out along the rim where the city walls used to be. No building was left standing, anything taller than ten feet tumbling over or falling to pieces. Roads ceased to exist altogether, overturned by bedrock underneath. The last embers were snuffed out, plunging the entire ruin into darkness. All except in one place. At the epicenter of the cataclysm, a ring of swiftly cooling glass splashed outwards from a single flame, floating just above the ground. The flame burned vibrant blue and white, dancing and flickering quietly. Off to one side, another man, clad in only the ragged, blackened ruins of what once were white pants, gazed into the flame, entranced. Priest’s fall had been cushioned by the explosion, and he had tumbled to the ground without much harm. Scrambling to his feet, he could barely remember the events leading up to the crash. Dye’s body had somehow ignited, burning so brightly that he had been utterly blinded. Through the crackling flames, he had barely made out someone’s voice, but had been unable to tell who it was or what they were saying. Then, what was left of Dye’s body slammed into Wa-Kia, and to his blindness he added sudden deafness for a single, bright moment. In the gloom of the fading light, Priest could now see a change overcoming the flame. A familiar shape formed out of the white flames, while a single point coalesced around the blue. Together, the two became a man and a star, burning in mid-air. The flames slowly died out for both, but never really left either of them. Dye’s eyes formed last, burning bright for one moment, then closing as he collapsed onto the ground, unconscious. Over him, Jane’s star necklace gleamed with the last hint of a hidden flame, then landed with a faint ring on Dye’s chest, glowing softly. Priest didn’t bother listening on the conversation between the two of them, instead looking up to the sky where he had last been. To the far west, the moon could be seen, full and brimming with light on the horizon as it set. To the east, the sun was returning, tinting the sky a warm yellow. It had been hanging low in the west when he began the fight. Now, every limb reminded him of what he had been through. No amount of healing could shake the exhaustion from his bones or the fatigue from his mind. Every part of his body had been healed at least once throughout the long, grueling fight. Priest almost wanted to sink to the ground and fall asleep right there. But there were things to be done. Dye would be missed back in Requiem.
Under a swift sunrise and a setting moon, Priest carried Dye back to base. It wasn’t until he reached the doorsteps that he finally collapsed, drained but content. They were both carried to hospital beds to be tended for, placed side-by-side and cared for by what doctors could be convinced to come in the wake of Wa-Kia’s destruction. In the coming days, clans converged to help rebuild the town. Few had actually died during the razing of the city, but those that had were dearly missed. Requiem offered the best it could to atone for what had been done, contributing much to the building of homes for families and buildings in the town center for gathering. Some of the wreckage left behind in the fight was actually incorporated into the new town design. The spikes of stone jutting outwards around the cratered edge of the town became the new town wall, while the ring of glass in the very center was used as the base for a new water fountain, filled with rainwater and simply animated with magic to dance about during the day, and settle down quietly at night. The rest of the city was replanned by architects, becoming a much easier place to walk around and enjoy. People prospered, people were happy.
One night, Dye sat up in his hospital bed, breathing hard, clutching his necklace tightly in one hand. He had been out for seven days. After settling down and looking around, he saw Priest in the bed next to him, reading a book by candlelight. For a moment, Dye just stared, taking in everything, the sights, the smells, the sounds, the feel of fresh linen sheets. Then Priest glanced up at him.
“Welcome back.”
Dye didn’t know what to say. “I should be dead.”
“Well, you’re not.”
“I almost wish I were…” With a sickening jolt, Dye remembered everything. The voice, the violence, the vengeance…
“Well, don’t kill yourself or anything.”
“I don’t expect to. The rest of the clan probably wants me dead anyways.”
“Not at all. Taking into account how you weren’t yourself for the past few months or so, and recalling your past, they’ve taken it easy on you.”
“I don’t want to feel their pity or anything…”
“They don’t pity you. They respect you for who you are, and are still trying to understand what you’ve gone through.”
“Well, I don’t want them to understand.” Dye stood up. He felt dizzy, but he didn’t care. How could they possibly understand…he didn’t have the words to explain.
“Lie down, you’re not fully recovered yet. And besides, everyone else is sleeping.”
“Tell me why I’m not dead.”
“Sometime later, when you’re ready.”
“Tell me NOW!” Dye kicked over his bed, sending mattress and pillow flying. Priest sighed and closed his book. Then he sat up and pointed straight at the blue star still clutched in Dye’s fist. Dye looked down.
“Jane?” Priest nodded, and began to find the book page he had been reading.
“If you don’t want to live for your own sakes, that’s fine. But we need you. Other people need you. Live for their sakes. Live for Jane’s sake.” Dye couldn’t come up with a response worth saying, and busied himself putting the bed back in order. Priest went back to reading.
Far away, under the moonlight waters of the lake, something shifted. Not quite a person, but what was left, the body was swept upwards from the lakebed by a change in the tide. It drifted through clouded pillars of moonlight, hardly recognizable any more, as it was sucked down towards the entrance to a river. With a gesture of longing, the body’s head turned towards the castle. But then, it looked forward. She left no regrets behind, no grudges. The events, though untold, were not unknown to her. And she was almost glad they happened, glad that nobody died, but everyone realized how valuable they were. Even if it meant the loss of a few good souls to prove a point. The body glanced down at a former neighbor, who shifted restlessly along the lakebed. Then she looked forward. She wasn’t really dead. Not when there was so much life still before her. New places to see, new people to meet. And beyond, the vast ocean, unseen by anyone above water. For that was life. Not the footprint left in the sand, washed away with the next tide, but the footprints yet to be made on pristine, untouched beaches far from where one stood. Death was no barrier. The body made it to the river’s beginning, then was whisked away. No, even death was no barrier. Megan’s body drifted downstream.
Spes est vires.
Hope is power.