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Had I told the sea what I felt for you,
It would have left its shores, its shell, its fish, and followed me.
- Nizar Qabbani
This is what Euclase remembers:
Hair so thick and blue it seared its way into their dreams. Minute silences, calculated questions, sleepless nights spent researching, eyes eternally fixed on the moon. Euclase had not known for certain at the time. They had not been watching for it.
Instead, they watched Lapis’ body crumble as their head fell gracelessly on the floor. They watched Lapis get stolen, leaving pieces of Ghost Quartz scattered on the field behind.
They watched sensei frown at the sky, eyes hard, akin to flint, and there was pain in them, and Euclase looked away.
Now, there was grief, and anger, and a broken body at their feet, and surely this could have been avoided, somehow.
The briefing was a short affair. A few sharp words that charged the hall with tension. Sensei’s shadow spread around them like a cloak and dread coiled like ribbons around their necks.
“As you all know, on the twelfth day of summer,” Sensei said, a hand on Ghost’s bowed head, hard and wide as a piece of stone. “Lapis Lazuli was taken away from us.”
Farewell, Lapis.
“I was unable to assist in time.”
May your shards fall back from the sky.
“I am sorry.”
May we meet again one day.
Years later, in the privacy of their quarters, the dream began.
They dreamt of a body that fitted the shape of Lapis’ mistakes. Headless, broken, pieces jutting out like knives underneath their material. Euclase stared. They tried to step away, but they could not move. They were pulled into a tight embrace, were sliced open on the razor edge of Lapis’ chest. Their fragments fell between them in a mix of silver and blue.
They jolted, vision disintegrating at the borders. Their body was rattled by faint tremors. Their hands were clenched tight under the sheet.
They pressed their eyes shut, and waited for the memory of the dream to trickle back into them. It did not come. Instead, flashes of Lapis Lazuli coated the back of their mind.
However, their features were fuzzy. A clumsy outline of what it used to be.
That was strange— Euclase frowned, and rummaged through their memories.
They could not recall Lapis’ face.
They remembered a sharp whistle in the air from when the spear severed the head from the shoulders. They remembered Ghost Quartz’s horrified screams as pale hands picked up a body and disappeared behind a dark curtain in the sky. They remembered the exact weight of Lapis’ head between their fingers, plucked between blades of grass, shining blue and gold under the sunlight.
But their face was gone.
Euclase opened their eyes. They blinked. A pressure flitted down their neck.
They laid very still, and tried to map out every centimeter of Lapis that they had ever known. The path ran different each time: the length of their bangs changed; the shape of their brows was impossible to measure.
I should go check on their head, the thought struck out of nowhere, like an arrow on the juncture of a limb. Just to make sure it is still here.
The way to the long-term recovery room was adjacent to the medical bay. Rutile would be awake, still working. Euclase should not bother them.
They did not move for another hour, and let their mind wander where it would, hoping they may drift away in exhaustion. Sleep remained elusive. Everything around them felt fragile and breakable.
Euclase sighed, and rose with heavy limbs. They closed their dressing gown, took the jellyfish bowl from its stand and shuffled out of their bedroom and into the silence of the hallway. They were careful not to make any sound, for they did not want to disturb anyone's sleep.
They walked into the strategy room, fetched papers dense with models and calculations, and retraced their step back to their quarters.
There was always work to do.
Jade stared at patrol maps laid out in front of them, eyes vacant. They were mumbling to themselves. An unnatural stiffness outlined their posture.
Euclase stood a few delicate feet away, watching. They had entered the briefing hall a few moments ago, hands piled high with papers.
They rapped on the wooden table to announce their presence.
“Morning,” they said, and put their documents down carefully.
Jade let out a startled sound, a furious blush on their cheeks. They lost their balance and nearly fell backward over the table. Euclase caught them by the sleeve of their uniform and righted them easily. They swiftly fixed their collar and dusted off the fabric of their jacket for good measure.
“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”
“Euclase,” Jade said, and blinked. “You’re up early— Wait. Why are you up so early?”
Euclase huffed, and patted their hair back to order.
“I had some meteorological data to examine, and estimations to take care of.”
“Huh.” Jade’s eyes were fixed on their towering pile. “This is a lot! Thank you for your hard work.”
They reached out and took a stack of the papers. They weighed them in their hands, one brow lifted with disbelief.
“Did you sleep?”
Euclase offered them a bright, innocent smile.
“I did.” They tilted their head. “What were you thinking about?”
‘’Ah— Nothing much,” Jade replied, far too quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”
They threw a distressed glance at the map of the Land, spread in front of them.
“Speak of it anyway,” Euclase said, and softened their voice. “I will listen.”
Jade visibly hesitated. They turned away in an attempt to diffuse the strange tension that had sprung between them.
“I was thinking about Pink Topaz." Their tone was dull, but there was a thinly veiled shudder behind it.
Jade’s hand hovered over the map of the Land. Their fingers trailed the third patrol route, where Pink Topaz had been taken away forty-three years ago, at the shores. The first abduction since Jade officially became Speaker.
The only piece left behind had been a chunk of fingertip dug out of the sand. It took the gems nine years to recover from the blow alone. Pink Topaz had been beloved. Everyone had to relearn how to walk, how to play, how to stay balanced.
“I was just wondering if their shards were getting a bit of sunlight,” Jade said. They scowled the way they always did when thinking hard or feeling ill at ease. “Probably not. The moon has to be a cold, dark place.”
They stopped. A heavy silence fell between them. Irrationally, Euclase thought they could hear the waves bodily throwing themselves upon the sand outside, far away.
They put a hand on Jade’s shoulder, and the touch broke through their muteness.
“Sometimes,” Jade said. “I wonder why sensei choose me as their next representative.”
“We needed a gem who would take us to tomorrow.”
“I think it should’ve been you.”
Euclase blinked, genuinely taken aback.
“You wish that I would nominate myself?”
“I— I mean. I don’t know,” Jade said. “If you had been in charge, maybe things would've been better. Maybe Pink Topaz would still be here.”
Maybe I am not good enough. The words were left unsaid, but they thundered in the hallways with such conviction they may as well have been spoken.
“Sorry.” Jade averted their gaze. “That was rude. Please forget it.”
“Jade,” Euclase said, in the gentlest tone they could muster. “You did what you could. It was not your fault.”
These words were long overdue, but Euclase had not said them when they were needed, and Jade’s mind had filled the blanks with cutting tools directed towards themselves. That was a problem in Euclase. Their inability to say the truth, even if it needed to be heard.
“But,” Jade mumbled. “What if I’d warned Sensei faster? What if I’d gone there and helped them instead? There are things I should’ve done better. I could’ve been stronger or smarter.”
“Yes, you could have,” Euclase said, and shook their head. “And I could have been more prudent. I could have been more precise. I could have foretold that the positions of the moons meant the lowest prospects of rain were pointed towards the shores at that time of the day. You and I could speculate for centuries on what might have been. There are countless possibilities. But at the end, such thoughts serve little purpose. Pink Topaz was abducted by the Lunarians. The fault lies with them, and no one else.”
Euclase picked up Jade’s hand, still touching the map. They gave it a squeeze.
“As for whether or not I should be in charge— You are a good Speaker, Jade. I hope you will forgive me for the sentiment, but I would rather stand by your side as an adviser. I think it is a better fit for my abilities. My only wish is to help you in any way I can.”
Jade stared at them, speechless for a moment. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Their formal tone echoing such an informal expression drew a smile out of Jade. A small one, but the first Euclase saw from them since the beginning of this conversation. The sight pleased them, and they beamed back.
“Alright, if you’re sure,” Jade said, still hesitant, but some of the tension had left their shoulders, and relief had entered their eyes.
Jade was steadfast. They may falter sometimes, but never for long, and when they did, all they needed was a gentle nudge in the right direction.
Euclase slipped their hand away. Jade looked at Euclase's paper tower with a determined frown. They squared their jaw and started ordering the documents in order of relevant parameter.
The gems would wake soon. Euclase mentally conjured the list of tasks that needed to be distributed for the day. They cleared up the table and let their mind work their way, factors falling smoothly into compartments.
“I’ll do my best!” Jade spoke again, tone firmer. “Until we gather enough pieces to retrieve them.’’
Hopefully sooner than later, the thought raised, somewhere from the depth of Euclase’s mind. They let the words drift to their lips, but they were distracted by a flash of cobalt blue at the corner of their vision.
They paused in their cleaning. They felt, again, a pressure on the back of their neck. Their vision tunneled. Their limbs felt impossibly heavy.
They waited for it to pass, and kept themselves still. Their eyes roamed the briefing hall. The pillars and the walls. They examined the creases that separated them. The impost blocks. The semicircular arches. The curves that extended beyond the extension of the extensions.
‘’Euclase?” Jade’s voice broke through the fog.
Euclase turned towards them. Jade’s head was tilted curiously. Sunrise pooled down the hallway, shifting across their face.
“We’ll get them back, right?”
They felt light-headed, dizzy with fatigue. It coursed through their structure, until it reached the soft middle of their inclusion.
“We cannot lose that hope,” Euclase said, and looked at the map of the Land, at the fifth patrol route, the Hills of White, where Lapis Lazuli had been taken.
I don't believe they will ever come back.
The words rang in their head. Simple and true.
Euclase could not give voice to them.
They library always carried a sense of stillness.
The room was sunlit and bare, bright and definite. It felt strange and empty to Euclase. When Lapis Lazuli walked the shelves, shadows would drift along the corners, whisper secrets at their feet, soften the edges around them into mere suggestions.
Deprived of them, the room had sharp angles. Euclase looked away. Lapis was gone. The price to pay was to see their surroundings stripped of their mysteries, and Euclase did not want to see.
Their gaze fell upon the silent figure of Ghost Quartz, half hidden behind columns of papers. They were occupying the only stool in the room, and were occupied with a book. Sunlight refracted through them both and struck the walls with colors that melted together in a pretense of chromatic dispersion.
Euclase gave a small wave. “Have I come at a bad time?”
“No.” Ghost Quartz’s visible eye curved. “I aired these materials this morning.”
Euclase hummed noncommittally. They picked up an old volume on the rate of rock cycling. Books and papers were layered on large sheets of fabric on the floor, a perplexing arrangement of subjects that had little to do with one another.
“I did not know you would be cleaning up the library today,” Euclase said. They could not quite keep the confusion out of their voice.
“I wanted to reorganize some of the shelves, but I forgot how Lapis liked to order them.”
Euclase’s smile did not dim. They wanted to suggest that, as the current head of the library, Ghost Quartz was free to use the classification system of their choice. But Ghost’s shoulders carved in the moment Lapis’ name left their lips, and Euclase knew not to speak out.
Lapis Lazuli’s old desk had been moved away. Their favorite pen was stored in a box, and their journals were put on a high shelf, blank pages left untouched. Yet, their echo remained still.
Ghost Quartz was quiet and alone, even though their body carried two. They sat where Lapis used to sit, spends their nights where Lapis used to sleep, walked the steps Lapis used to take.
Ghost’s eyes fell downward. Euclase followed their gaze to the thick book in their hand.
It was bound in red fabric, soft and well preserved. They had never seen it before, and before they could ask, Ghost explained.
“I thought I could look for the answer in one of Lapis’ old journals.” They touched the pages with something akin to reverence. Euclase’s brows twitched.
“Have you found what you were looking for?”
“No.” Ghost smiled. It did not reach their eye. “I can’t understand most of what is written here.”
The room blurred around the corners. Pity overwhelmed Euclase, spilled into their mouth carelessly.
“I could help you after my shift,” they offered, and glanced at the sky outside. “I will be done in half an hour.”
Ghost’s figure stilled. For a single, sharp second, their face stiffened with hostility. Then, they relaxed, and the quietness in them became different, cutting, honed to a point.
“It’s alright,” Ghost said. “We will manage.”
Euclase nodded, and pretended not to notice how much briefer Ghost’s words were. They filed the moment away for later examination, and picked up the documents they needed. They left with guilt sweeping through the cracks of their deceptively solid composure.
The red journal laid innocuously on the strategy room table.
Euclase recognized it immediately. They picked it up. A folded sheet of paper slipped out. They opened it, and read the single sentence set down in Ghost Quartz’s neat, blocky handwriting: thank you for helping us clean the library.
They turned the paper around. On the back they met a familiar drawing. It sketched out the position of the documents Ghost had wished to systematize. They had left it between the reports Yellow delivered a month ago, and had thought the matter over and done with.
Euclase had drawn and described the content of the shelves with their pen moving idly, just as they remembered it.
Just as Lapis Lazuli had liked to order them.
They glanced at the window. They could barely make out a sliver of light pressing against the edge of the landscape. Their reports had been written. The jellyfish bowls were set up in the room.
They stared at Ghost Quartz's gift with a sense of distant wariness.
They drew out a stool, sat down and began leafing through the pages carefully.
There was no date, but they could tell it had been written many centuries ago. The first paragraphs were filled with theories about their origins, their inclusions, their memories. Passages copied from library books Euclase recognized. Underlined sentences with personal notes scribbled on the margins.
They felt a twinge of annoyance. The lines were poignant and succinct. Quiet reflections, imposing ideas, cutting turn of phrase. Some part grazed at their memory. Their eyes skimmed familiar sentences, and they realized with a jolt that the words were theirs. Bits and pieces of arguments the two of them had over the years.
Euclase parsed the pages, cognition deriving meaning from pattern before they could stop themselves. Lapis’ commentary spilled out like a conversation, a grappling with Euclase’s proposals, tenets, visions. Many of their exchanges had been scrutinized with something that bordered on obsession. Flashes of anger and cynicism flared here and there, but the countless iterations of ideas spoke of endless curiosity.
Their lips twitched helplessly. Lapis had genuinely believed most knowledge was unallocated and theirs to grab, if they just made the right move at the right time.
Something pulled at their core at the thought. They felt dizzy, brittle. They felt tired.
They closed their eyes for a moment’s rest, and there was Lapis: beside them, over them, in front of them. In the hallways, shoulders brushing. At the library, with thighs and hands close enough but not quite touching. At opposite sides of a table, bouncing ideas off each other.
Their face was still shrouded. Euclase tried, again, to conjure their features, but Lapis was out of reach. They heard themselves make a small sound, quickly cut off.
They opened their eyes again, and resumed reading.
The last pages dwelt on Ghost Quartz’s multilayered structure. Hypotheses and speculations on their unique condition. A steady hand dashed decisive lines behind certain words and boxed in phrases. Lapis referred to the gem Ghost shared their body with as “little one”. Their handwriting became noticeably messier, crawling through white space, exposing the pointed edge of Lapis' captured interest.
Euclase broke off with a startled blink when they turned a page and found it empty.
They raised their head and looked around the room. The jellyfish bowls coated the walls with their gentle light. The sky was dark and speckled with stars.
Their eyes fell on their reading again, and they frowned slightly. There was a strange void in Lapis’ words, an emptiness. Everything Euclase went over barely skimmed the surface of the gem they once knew. Each sentence was both genuine and a deflection by design. A powdered pretense.
They closed the journal gently and laid it out on the table.
It was funny, they thought. Funny how Lapis had guarded themselves so thoroughly when they were not fighting, and had left themselves wide open when it had mattered the most.
That night, they dreamed of Lapis again. They were reaching out to Euclase, lunarians at their heels. A piece of white clothing covered their face. Euclase recognized their colors, their hair, the way their fingers curved playfully towards them.
“This is a dream,” Euclase said. “You are not really here,” But they were already reaching out, grasping Lapis’ outstretched hand. They held on too tightly, and Lapis’ palm broke between their fingers. The spear severed their head. The veil lifted slightly, and Euclase caught the glimpse of a curve on their lips.
Euclase frantically looked at their own hand. A sharp gust of wind scattered Lapis' shards and carried them towards the blue sky.
They woke up with a crick in their neck, and their hand still reaching out for Lapis. They woke up terrified.
They stayed in bed, and waited for tomorrow with sleepless eyes.
Euclase threw themselves into the work with an enthusiasm that bordered on vindictiveness.
They tutored the children while sensei slept, helped Rutile organize the medical care for the broken, assigned gems to monitor supplies, helped Obsidian soften and hammer the swords they wished to create. They spent many late hours with Yellow and Alexandrite, pouring through war records, casting idle comments at each other.
“Are you alright?” Alexandrite asked them one night, while making faces at their own increasingly meaningless scribbling. The two of them were huddled together around Alex’s low table. Papers spilled everywhere in an ocean of ink; old reports gathered on the windowsill. Yellow Diamond was dozing off somewhere on their left.
“I have the feeling I should be the one asking you this question,” Euclase said.
Alex squinted at them. Their eyes were distant, as if trying to make them out from several hundred meters away. Euclase’s pen did not still from the line of numbers they were scratching.
A snort. “Yeah, right.” Alex’s forehead hit the table with a thunk. Euclase made shushing sounds at them, which were ignored. Yellow Diamond threw a pillow at their general direction.
“You haven’t slept in seventeen days! Get some rest!”
“Don’t keep track,” Alex whined. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”
“Sleep is very important,” Euclase said mildly, and dodged the second pillow.
“That comment was directed at you too, smarty.”
“Ugh.” Alex pulled back. They stretched, and the papers covering the floor crinkled beneath them. Yellow Diamond rose and approached.
Alex ran their inked fingers across their face. “What’s been bothering you, Euc?”
“What makes you believe something has been bothering me?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Yellow said.
“The deflections, the smiles—”
Yellow gave an exaggerated shudder. “The productivity.”
“Yup.” Alex sat up with a disgruntled face. “You’re on a warpath. The rest of us can barely keep up.”
Euclase smiled at them innocently, mostly out of spite. “There is simply a lot to do.”
Yellow sighed, as if Euclase was thirty again and had misplaced their sword somewhere. They put on a glove, leaned across the table and poked Euclase right in the middle of their forehead.
Euclase leveled an incredulous look at them.
“Look—” Yellow gestured towards Alex. “Quick! What would Sensei say?”
Alex crossed their arms, closed their eyes and deepened their voice. “A mind is cleared only if you let your thoughts go. Do not drown them out, for you might sink along with them.”
Yellow guffawed, clapped their hand over their mouth. Their entire body shook; Euclase allowed themselves a tired huff.
“You two are worse than the children I supervise.”
“Yeah?” Yellow’s dropped their hand, revealing a delighted grin. “And how’s that going for you?”
“They are precious,” Euclase said, palm on cheek. “Yesterday, I lost Watermelon Tourmaline for nearly three hours. They were hiding on the school’s roof, of all places. I scolded them. The resulting electrical charge destroyed three-quarter of their uniform.”
“Ha!” said Alex. “So even you can do wrong!”
“I didn’t think they knew how.” Yellow's smile turned beatific. “After all, our Euc here was born already knowing how to knot their tie!”
“I am going to need you both to take a break with your commentary,” Euclase said wryly.
That joke was an old one. Euclase remembered all too well from whose mouth it had fallen first.
Yellow chuckled. “From what I’ve seen, Watermelon seems like an easygoing kid!”
“That child,” Euclase sighed. “Lives in a world where the present is unconnected to the past.”
“Lucky them.” Yellow’s voice was soft. Their lips stretched and stretched. “I could do without the past too. It’s a draggy thing to carry around.”
Euclase looked back at their numbers. They had nothing else to say. They thought of Pink Topaz. Their easy humor, their fondness for the creatures that lived in the forest.
The scope of Yellow Diamond’s loss was unquantifiable— Because Pink Topaz’s friend had been Green Diamond, and Green Diamond’s friend had been Sapphire, and Sapphire’s friend had been Ruby, and all of them were gone and Yellow stood alone, with no one to share their memories with.
“Kids are scary nowadays,” Alex said in light tone. They pulled out a sheet blackened on both sides and cramped in more lines on the margins.
They wrote in slow, sporadic bursts, as if they wrestled with each thought before putting it down on paper. It reminded Euclase of their childhood. They had received their education around the same period as Alexandrite.
They used to pass flowers to each others under the classroom table.
“But even if it hurts,” Alex said. “I’d rather have my memories, because it helps me remember not to let go of Chrysoberyl.”
Euclase gripped at their pen, and kept their features neutral.
“Maybe one day,” they said. “It will hurt less.”
They paused. A persistent thought gnawed at their mind. Alex’s hair fell in a curtain, hiding their eyes.
“And even if you move on,” Euclase said. “I believe— I hope that they would forgive you for it.”
Who were they talking to? The drawings, the walls, Yellow, Alexandrite, someone else. Someone who was both here and not. Someone who went far away. Someone who was nowhere to be found.
Euclase’s chest twisted. Their head pounded. They forgot, for a moment, that they did not want to think of Lapis. They did not want every single moment of their life to be dedicated, shaped or affected by Lapis.
“It doesn’t matter.” Alex muttered. They didn't pause in their writing. “If our situations were reversed, Chrysoberyl would never give up. They would never let go. So, I’ll remember them, until the day they are returned to me.”
The words felt like blades carving at Euclase’s senses. They could only imagine what they felt like being said.
Yellow Diamond kept silent. Alex raised their head and looked at Euclase. Their eyes were bright red, and there was something unspoken in them, something desperate, like an insect with shattered wings trying to fly.
Then, their lashes swept over that burden and they handed Euclase their finished diagram.
“Alright, I think I’m done! Check out these numbers.”
The sand was delicate under Euclase’s shoes; their feet sank with each step.
Watermelon Tourmaline ran in front of them, towards the sea. The shoreline ebbed and flowed, saltwater applying its gentle pull.
Euclase wondered how long it would take for the tides to reach them; draw them in softly, like quicksand. The only way not to get stuck would be to stand absolutely still—to give up.
“Melon,” Euclase said. “Be careful, please. Don’t go near the wet sand.”
The child looked back at them with eyes wide and trusting. They nodded and knelt next to solitary bushes on the edge of the berm. They were tired: their legs had already given away from excitement earlier today. Still, they refused to give up on their quest.
Winter approached quickly. There were no flowers in the withering grass anymore. But Watermelon Tourmaline wished to make floral crowns for Sensei and Hemimorphite, and they were fearless in their determination.
To Euclase’s surprise, they found purple anbars close to the shore, still in full bloom. Prudent little things bowing and dancing with the breeze, growing were no one would think to look for them.
Euclase approached. They crouched down and ran their fingers over the delicate petals.
“Can you tell me what these represent?”
Melon furrowed their brows comically. They kept on weaving the stems together with clumsy fingers. Euclase waited. Finally: “Joy in the day!”
“Correct.” Euclase gave them a wide smile. “Five points to you!” They patted their head.
Melon giggled. Euclase wished wildflowers care was an available job opportunity. The child never showed this level of patience with anything else.
The wind picked up, combing through their hair with invisible fingers.
Euclase stood up. Clouds were edging forwards, covering the sky. Strangled light bust through the gay mass and touched their inclusions. They closed their eyes, senses suddenly thrown into a higher definition.
The pressure dropped slightly.
A cold unease began to settle in them.
“Melon,” Euclase said. “Get behind me.”
They kept their eyes fixed on the pitch-black hole breaking upon the sky, yawning into emptiness.
“Ah,” said Melon. “Moon meanies!”
They made a move towards their sword. Euclase stopped them with a gentle hand.
“You are tired,” they said. “Go warn the others for me. I will keep them busy until sensei arrives.”
“M’kay!” Melon saluted.
Euclase smiled at them. The central figure loomed as the vessel came into sight. A rather small unit. Fairly ordinary and easy to dispatch.
They balanced their weight on their feet, well spread, and drew their sword. They gripped the handle lightly and cycled it twice to deflect three arrows aimed at Watermelon Tourmaline, who kept moving further away.
For an old type, the procedure was rarely complicated. One only had to consider the schematics of each operation unique to each operation, depending on the type of sunspot. There was the pathways of the arrows, the angle of the spears, and the pressure put on bow string so that the projectile can cut down the limbs and minimize material scattering. There was the result, and the necessary logistics to achieve it.
There was their supposed mission. To harvest gems and turn their shards into tools.
Euclase jumped. Their heels landed on the vessel, their eyes darted around. There were forty-five sundries in the front, fifteen in the back, and nine— Euclase counted —trajectories from which they could be effectively broken. Fourteen, if the Lunarians were creative, which was a concern.
They shifted their weight, only so, and the tip of their sword dug deep into strange, smoky flesh. They pushed all the way in to stab the next sundry, and the next, and the next. They jerked the blade free and blocked a volley of arrows.
That should do well enough, Euclase thought. They eyed the central figure and leaped away, preparing for retreat. Arrows passed them by, and they were not their target.
They blinked, and turned around. They spotted the small figure of Watermelon Tourmaline, running after a flower crown, blown by the wind.
A lunarian raised their spear. Euclase’s mind constructed the trajectory with crystal clarity.
From that angle, they were going for the neck.
They gauged the distance between them and the spear, and concluded they would not be fast enough.
“Melon,” Euclase shouted. “Move!”
They spun their sword once and made some quick calculations. No time for doubt: they threw it with as much strength as they could. It sliced the lunarian’s hand. The blade lodged itself in the vessel. Euclase dived towards it.
Something sharp bore into their left shoulder, an arrow, and their arm broke away from their body. They hissed from shock, and steadied themselves, adjusting to their new weight. They kept on running, and landed next to their blade. Their hand locked around the grip. They held it vertically and parred a blow coming from their weak side.
They fumbled to twist it one-handed, and collapsed on one knee.
Pale hands clutched their right arm.
If they were taken— The thought pierced them. If they were taken, they wouldn't even get to see—
Euclase tore themselves away; their ankle made a splintering sound and shattered. They forced their legs to hold. Another projectile sliced the side of their face.
Darkness began to engulf them. They heard someone shout their name from an unknown distance.
There was a high-pitched sound; something akin to gas being compressed. Then, smoke burst all around them. Their sword dived into the air, and Euclase’s shards fell from the sky.
For a moment, they felt themselves slip through the cracks between subconscious and conscious.
Dregs of memories glided in them, like autumn leaves in a pound.
Lunarians came boldly in mind, with a young gem’s face, a clumsily recollected name. Euclase clung to it, grasped at it, and they blinked awake.
The smoke had cleared. The sun glared through the passing particles. The sky was vast, and Euclase felt very small.
Rutile was looking at them from above. Their face was shadowed. When they crouched beside them, Euclase thought they were Lapis.
“That was uncharacteristically careless of you.” A white sheet was spread beside them.
Euclase’s vision fractured. Rutile’s eyes were golden-yellow and then they were cobalt blue.
Euclase could barely move their mouth.
“How’s the kid?”
“Getting scolded,” Rutile said. “Excuse me.”
Euclase shivered with relief as hands touched their temples. Fingers palpated their brows, their neck, what was left of their chin. They followed the movements as much as they could.
All gems were made equal at birth. Hands and height. The breath of their shoulders, the squares of their jaws. But the eyes were different.
“Well,” Lapis Lazuli said. They stroked their fingertips on the back of Euclase’s head. “I have always suspected, but now it is confirmed. You are the most dramatic gem in the Land."
A sly narrowing of the eyes. The shadow of a smirk Euclase knew all too well.
That voice. Euclase had missed it dearly.
They closed their eyes. It was hard to do so.
What a mess they must have looked to them, with their leg and arm broken and the lower half of their face missing.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Euclase murmured, and cracked an eyelid open.
Rutile was frowning at them.
“What,” The doctor said. “Was that tone of voice, pray tell?”
“Um—”
“Euclase! Rutile!” Jade’s voice came, saving the scraps of Euclase’s dignity. They were accompanied by Diamond, Bort and Watermelon Tourmaline.
The child threw themselves on the sand and bowed low.
“Euc-nii! I’m sorry!”
“It’s alright,” Euclase said. They would have smiled if they could. “I am fine.”
They chuckled, and felt a heavy weight settle on their head. A hand.
They blinked up at Sensei, who crouched next to Rutile.
Sensei's figure was broad and strong. Their gaze, however, was soft.
Looking into those eyes did not make Euclase feel small.
“You did well,” Sensei said, and Euclase squeezed their eyes shut. They let the kindness reverberate through their body, covering them like a winter blanket.
Truth be told, they knew little of Kongo-sensei. Their past was unknown, their future was an uncertainty, but their present was understood. Euclase knew of their flaws and strengths. Their annoyances and grievances.
They could not help but feel safe, when Sensei watched over them.
“Coward,” Lapis said.
Euclase’s eyes shot open. Rutile was staring at them again.
A beat. “Sorry. Could you repeat that, please?”
“I said, we’re taking you to the medical bay.” Rutile enunciated slowly, looking almost worried.
Okay, Euclase tried to speak, and fainted instead.
For a while, the only thing echoing in their mind were names, names, names. Lapis Lazuli, Watermelon Tourmaline, Jade, Yellow Diamond, Lapis Lazuli, Ghost Quartz, little one, that was a name, was it not, Alexandrite, Lapis Lazuli.
They woke up. The darkness engulfing the hallways surprised them.
They raised into a sitting position. Rutile was sprawled on the windowsill, sleeping soundly.
The sky was starless. The moons hung in the night air like a threat. Padparadscha’s box was open. The elder gem laid inside, motionless.
Euclase counted seventy-eight chiseled stones lined up on the table next to them. The sight was not surprising— over the years, maintaining Padparadscha had become increasingly difficult. The last time they had been operative, Pink Topaz still patrolled the meadow by Yellow’s side.
Euclase looked around for their gloves. They briefly considered rousing Rutile up, but ultimately decided against it. The doctor would blink awake with clouded eyes and metaphorical scalpels bared at them, because they needed the rest, but would never say so. Beside, Euclase could guess the diagnosis well enough. They were physically healed, though still weakened. They'd be told sternly to take it easy. There’s still room for a setback, light duty for three days, and Euclase would listen and nod at all the right moments, before beaming and thanking them.
They put away their sleepwear and folded it neatly. They dressed themselves in their uniform, put on their shoes, and left the medical bay.
They did not look back, nor did they look from side to side or hastened their stride.
Euclase walked as naturally as they ever did, and each steps carried no echo.
They got to the corner; they turned it. The long-term recovery room stretched before them, austere and bare of comfort.
Everything was aligned neatly. No jellyfish bowls had been set, but the moons provided enough natural light for them to see.
This would be their first time visiting Lapis Lazuli’s head.
There had been enough reminders everywhere— their favorite book had been left in Euclase quarters, and it had taken them years to gather the will to return it. One of their ties was still in Euclase’s possession, given as a jest. Their rooms were free of their personal affairs. The hallways were empty of their smiles and laughter— there had been enough reminders that Lapis was gone, and not with them anymore.
Euclase’s eyes roamed the white fabric covering the rescued shards.
“I’m sorry,” they said to the sheets, to the quietness. “I didn't bring you anything.”
They tightened their mouth, and took a step forward.
What gift could they have offered? The idea of bringing flowers was laughable. Perhaps an interesting seashell, or a piece of writing made by Euclase’s own hand.
But Lapis would not be voicing any complains. So they discarded the thought as well.
They knees settled on the quartz floor, and their gloved hands disappeared beneath the white sheets.
Lapis’ wooden receptacle was silver under the moonlight, lined with ornately painted landscapes and flowers. The lid and sides glowed light and dark in the dappling shadows.
Perhaps the head was truly not there. Perhaps the lunarians came and took it away while Euclase had not been looking.
They opened the box, and plunged their hands in. They willed them not to shake.
They raised their arms, and came face to face with Lapis Lazuli.
Euclase made a small sound, they could not help it. They stared at their relaxed features, the curve of their brows, the cleft of their chin, the heavy hair, the pyrite adorning it, how it shone.
Their thumb carefully traced their eyelashes, the back of their eyelids.
They tried to say something, anything, because they had once told Lapis they loved the sound of their voice very much, and Lapis had sincerely returned the compliment.
“Hi, Lapis,” they said lamely.
And that was all they could get out of themselves, for a while. Because Lapis Lazuli could not hear them. They were not there.
The silence was thick, heavier now that the thing in their chest was building.
Coward.
Something shifted in them, like a splintered shard that needed to be set. They knew Rutile did not make any mistakes, and yet, a familiar numbness overcame them. It emptied their mind for a moment.
Their arms began to shake, and Euclase shifted posture.
They carefully settled the head on the delicate lid of the box. They laid their palm on Lapis’ forehead gently, and bowed over.
They felt their shoulders carve with the movement, and their own forehead touched the back of their gloved hand.
Lapis’ hair brushed their cheek. The tingle of it traveled from the point of contact all the way down to Euclase’s toes, lingering for a while somewhere in their chest.
They closed their eyes and tilted their head slightly, so that their next words brushed against Lapis’ lips.
“If I do not let go,” they whispered. “and do not act, then what am I doing here, standing still?”
Who were they talking to? Euclase could not tell. They were alone in the room. A broad question, then— anyone could answer, because they only wished to know.
Why did it hurt so much? they could not decide which part was the worst. The loss, the grief, the silence, the fear of losing the little shreds of what was left behind. It all hurt, though, every single aspect of it, and so Euclase did not know the answer, only that it did.
They stayed like this for a long time, and when the night came to its end, they opened their eyes, and committed Lapis’ face to memory.
This is what Euclase remembers, when Phosphophyllite stands in front of them.
They are shadows of blue and gold, with pieces jutting out like knives underneath their material. They are destruction and fury underneath the wasteland stars.
An army stands behind them.
The school stands behind Euclase.
The broken pieces of their family are scattered on the floor all around them.
Euclase opens their mouth to speak, to offer words that are too late, and the blade strikes their neck before they can let their thoughts break free.
Their head flies away from their body.
This is the last thing Euclase remembers, before the darkness comes: something is laughing.
The sound is both kind and unkind.