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The stars scattered across the sky did little to illuminate the particularly dark night. Fiora could hardly tell the difference; all darkness looked pale blue to her mechanically-enhanced eyes. She could see much better at night now, since she never had to wait for her eyes to get adjusted. But falling asleep was far more difficult when it always looked light outside. Not that she could sleep even if she wanted. Her body hurt too much, aches in her joints and all through her ether-deprived frame.
Nearly everyone in Colony 6 had retired to their homes. She was one of the only ones still sitting outside, swishing her legs in the water and tapping her metal fingers against the deck of Junks. In the deafening silence, she heard the gears clicking slowly in her chest and the slow, stuttering hum of her electrified core unit. She also heard the slow clicking of heels behind her, like someone was sneaking off the ship. She turned around and saw the High Entia woman they had taken in that afternoon, dressed in her odd black uniform, her white hair braided with ribbons. The woman tensed when Fiora met her eyes, but Fiora sat still and stared at her.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Fiora said.
“What business is it of yours?”
Fiora slowly removed her legs from the water and pushed herself to her feet. “You haven’t recovered yet, but you’re trying to escape. What if you get attacked?” She took a cautious step toward the woman. “I don’t know where you’re headed, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go somewhere on your own right now.”
“You dare stand in my way, you lowly creature?” the woman snarled.
“Creature?” Irritation burned behind Fiora’s eyes. Her core unit stuttered, then started to whir. “I know my body looks strange, but I’m still a Homs.”
“Whatever you are, I will not tolerate your meddling.” She lowered her hands to her belt, unsheathing two strange weapons, their dagger-like tips glowing with ether. “If you intend to stand in my way like some vile insect, then I may be forced to exterminate you.”
Fiora wrinkled her nose. She raised her knives and assumed a fighting stance. “I don’t like girls who stoop to insults. You can mock me as much as you want, but if you can’t fight, your words mean nothing!”
She jumped forward and struck one of the woman’s blades. The woman’s wings flattened against her head, and she bared her teeth, easily pushing Fiora away from her strike. The woman kicked Fiora’s middle, and the toe of her boot met Fiora’s armor with a metallic clang. Fiora winced, taking a step back. She regained her balance quickly and charged forward again. She hit the woman’s blades once, then twice. Locking their blades, Fiora maintained the tension, the scraping of metal screeching in her ears. The woman glared at her with sharp blue eyes, her lip curled. Fiora mirrored her sneer, then gasped as the woman broke the tension, sending her stumbling back again. Fiora’s knee suddenly gave out, and she slumped down slightly, bracing herself against the deck of Junks with one of her knives.
“Is your frail, unnatural frame giving out, Mechon girl?” the woman taunted. “It would be a small wonder. After all, you truly are an anomaly of nature.”
“It’s true that I didn’t want this body.” Fiora pushed herself back to her feet. The little bit of ether left in her chest component stirred, slowly spreading its warmth to her sore joints, first shoulders, then elbows. “But my body is strong, and it kept me alive. And most of all, it’s revealed to me what’s truly important in life.”
She brandished her knives again, taking a firm step forward. Before the woman could say anything more, she rushed forward and pushed her almost to the edge of the dock. The woman gritted her teeth, grunting as she tried to maintain her balance.
“Are you planning to fight to the death?” the woman spat.
“No. Why would I kill you? I trust that you’re not going to hurt me. I just want you to listen to reason.”
The woman faltered slightly, then returned the tension, pushing Fiora back slightly. “What do Homs know of reason? Why should I trust you?”
“I don’t need you to return my trust. I just want to understand who you are and where you’re going.”
“Very well.” She dropped her blades, and Fiora returned her knives to her waist. “If nothing else, I admit you to be a capable fighter. For a Homs.”
Now that she wasn’t locked in battle with her, Fiora could take a better look at the woman. She had angular features, her lips curled downward in a perpetual scowl. Her pink eyeshadow and eyeliner accentuated the almond shape of her piercing blue eyes, her high cheekbones like ivory daggers and her jawline as severe as her frown. Despite the angry expression and sharp features, the down at the base of the woman’s wings looked soft, as did the bangs hanging free from her braid. Though she had met Melia and other High Entia refugees in Colony 6, Fiora had never seen a High Entia as strikingly, austerely beautiful as this woman.
“What’s your name?” she asked. “I don’t think I heard Melia clearly.”
“Tyrea.”
“I’m Fiora. I’m from Colony 9.”
“From the Bionis’ Knee?” Tyrea curled her lip. “Repulsive.”
Fiora didn’t react to her, instead asking, “Where were you going when you ended up outside Colony 6?”
“I was searching for someone. I was so exhausted that I passed out midway through my search.”
“Were you searching for Melia?”
“No, although that was my original duty. I was raised to kill Melia. I was supposed to stop a half-Homs from ascending the throne. But I failed, and she became Empress.”
“And now what? Now who are you looking for?”
“My mother. She must have turned into a Telethia.”
“Oh…” Fiora winced when she remembered how Prince Kallian and the others had morphed into monsters. “Do you think you can get her to remember you?”
“No, you fool. I must find her so I can fulfill her final wish.”
“Your mother’s final wish…”
“She asked me to kill her.”
Fiora gasped. “Kill her?!”
“And if I succeed in finding her and ending her life, I will do the same for myself as well. Without my mother, I have no purpose. My entire life was built around her, and without her, I am nothing.”
“Kill your own mother,” Fiora repeated under her breath. She lifted her hand to her mouth, stroking her lips absently with her thumb as she stared wide-eyed at Tyrea. Some of the High Entia refugees living in Satorl Marsh had explained how they wanted Melia, Shulk, and the others to put their loved ones out of their misery by killing the Telethia they had become. As if there were no way to reverse the transformation, or they had no hope that the transformation could be reversed. It was horrifying, but Melia, Tyrea, and the other surviving High Entia just calmly accepted it, like it was a fact of life. Maybe Fiora couldn’t understand that. But having already died herself, she could clearly see the difference between someone like Tyrea and the mother who had ordered her to kill her upon her transformation.
“You don’t want to die,” Fiora said, setting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow. “What do you think you’re going to get out of it? It’s not going to change anything.”
“How can you be so certain? You speak as if you have already died.”
“Because I have. A Mechon killed me. Then I was taken to the Mechonis and given this body. But because of my new body, I got to live. I was reunited with my brother and my friends. I got to meet the others. And…” She lifted a hand to her chest. “I got to meet someone who changed my outlook on life forever.”
“But you’re dying because of that body. Aren’t you?”
“It’s true. I’m dying.” How could she admit it so matter-of-factly to this stranger, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Dunban and Shulk?
“Are you not afraid?” Some of the edge had faded from Tyrea’s voice. She spoke low and quietly now, and the scowl on her lips had softened.
“No. I’m not afraid. Because if I died tomorrow, I’d be happy. I got to spend time with everyone I loved, and meet new people who made my last days worthwhile. I’m more ready to die now than I was before. Even though I never asked for it. Not then, and not now.”
“Well, good for you,” Tyrea sneered. “You may feel that way, but I would gladly welcome death. I have no purpose anymore. Nothing to live for. My life is useless.”
Fiora’s chest ached. Maybe she really should be afraid of death. After all, it would take her away from everything that made her want to live longer. She’d thought the short amount of time she’d spent on the Mechonis and with Meyneth, and with Dunban and Shulk and everyone else, had been enough. That was why she’d told Tyrea she didn’t fear death. But why wasn’t she afraid? If she wanted to live, shouldn’t she be afraid? Did she really want to die? Or was it more that she had just calmly accepted it, as a fact of life?
“Your mother never asked you to end your life,” Fiora said finally. “She just never told you what she wanted you to do after she died.”
Tyrea’s eyes went wide, her wings puffed up, and she gasped sharply. Fiora’s heart skipped. Had she finally broken through to her?
“Do not assume you understand what my relationship with my mother was,” Tyrea said quietly. “And even if you try to dissuade me from killing myself, you cannot stop me from seeking her out.”
“Fine,” Fiora said. She stepped away from Tyrea. “Go out on your own. We’ll come looking for you. But, Tyrea? I hope I see you alive when I get there.”
“Hopefully you will be alive as well,” was the reply.
Fiora sat back down on the deck and watched Tyrea walk away. Though she was worried, she felt optimistic that she would see Tyrea again. Because, despite the weakness Tyrea had shown, Fiora had witnessed firsthand the strength flowing beneath her fractured surface.
—
Alcamoth still lay in ruin, not just from the destruction wrought by the Telethia, but the Fogbeasts after them. A few months’ restoration efforts meant the capital was at least clean enough that Fiora, Shulk, and the others could visit.
Tyrea stood beside Melia. Her hair was still braided with ribbons, but she wore a new outfit. It was a sleek black like the leotard, but instead, it was a form-fitting turtleneck dress with a slit at the thigh. She wore the same heeled boots, and her blades hung on a thick belt at her waist. She held her head higher, and the scowl on her face seemed to have vanished.
Fiora couldn’t stop thinking how good it looked on her, not just the dress hugging her sharp curves, but the smile.
“You look different,” she said as Fiora approached. She was loosely clutching the shoulder of the boy beside her.
“Who’s this again, Big Sis?” The boy squinted, then he pointed at Fiora. “Oh! You’re Shulk and Her Majesty’s friend! You do look different!”
Fiora smiled. “I do, don’t I?”
“I am shocked you made it,” Tyrea said. She let go of the boy’s shoulder, shaking her head. “No, that’s not right. I am not exactly shocked you made it.”
“More surprised that my body was able to make it?” She giggled.
“More that you managed to somehow get a new one.”
She broke away from the boy and Melia, and they walked through the streets of Alcamoth. Fiora explained how her time in the regeneration chamber had restored her body to its original state. When they had reached the fountain, Tyrea looked at Fiora’s belt and said, “Your knives look smaller.”
Fiora patted her belt, feeling around for the hilt of her knives. “Actually, I’m more used to this size. But I don’t mind pulling out the Mechonis knives now and then.”
“Would you pull your knives out now?”
Tyrea’s footsteps had stopped. Fiora turned to face her. “You want to fight? Here and now?”
“Why not? In honor of that battle you gave me a few years ago. I learned some things back then. Though I did not realize just how much I learned until I met Teelan.”
Fiora took her knives in hand and squared up before Tyrea again. She charged forward, landing a quick, heavy strike on one of her blades. Tyrea swung the other blade in a wide arc, giving Fiora barely enough space to counter it. Fiora pushed both blades out of the way, then stepped back. She charged forward with one hit, then another, then two in a row. Tyrea parried them all. Her blades glowed orange, and she fired an ether blast, which Fiora dodged. Pivoting on her heel, she tried to strike Tyrea’s gloved hand with the dull edge of her knife, intending to knock one of her blades to the ground. But Tyrea saw her in her peripheral vision and fended off the assault.
“You’ve gotten even better,” Fiora said as Tyrea turned around to face her. “Makes me feel rusty.”
“You move much more fluidly in your original body,” Tyrea said.
Fiora’s face felt like it was on fire. “I’m not gonna give in to your taunts!” Lunging forward, she crossed the blades of her knives, locking them with Tyrea’s.
“It wasn’t a taunt, silly Homs girl.” Tyrea’s tone was not irritated, but fond. There was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes that sent a shiver down Fiora’s spine. “Are you that dense to compliments?”
Their blades remained locked. Tyrea smirked, stepping closer. Fiora spread her feet slightly to maintain her balance. Tyrea’s face was so close that Fiora could feel her breathe a huff of irritation through her nose, and see the thin waxy layer of lipstick on her lips. Fiora wondered how it would feel against her lips, against her neck, and her stomach fluttered.
Tyrea had been beautiful back then, despite how much she’d been suffering. But confidence looked much better on her.
“You’re really shining,” Fiora said. She dropped her knives to her sides and hooked them back onto her belt, and Tyrea mirrored her. “What changed?”
“I found Teelan,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the boy, who was talking to Melia. “I had no purpose until I met him. Then he was all I had for a while. Soon after, Melia came into my life again. And though I had attempted to kill her, she showed me forgiveness.
“I was unable to understand why. Why she would show me mercy.” Tyrea shook her head. “Though Teelan thought highly of me, I still thought myself wretched. I still longed for death. Or I thought I did. Then I realized Melia and Teelan were right there in front of me.
“I thought back to that Homs girl who had shown me not only her calm acceptance of death, but the strength of her will to live. I knew that even if I did not believe in my own right to be alive, I had something to live for. It is difficult for me to admit, but I believe you were right.” When Fiora didn’t ask for clarification, she continued, “Right that Mother would not have wanted me to die.”
“I’m relieved,” Fiora said. She lowered her head. “I thought of you now and then. Wondered what had happened to you.” She paused. “Lying in the regeneration chamber, I thought of how, against all odds, I was still here. Despite everything, I had survived. I was supposed to be dead, but I had lived.
“I thought, did I really deserve to be here? When I had been so ready to die?” She lifted her head, looking up at Tyrea, whose eyes had softened in understanding. “But I knew I was wrong to think that way. That I did deserve another chance at life. And that no matter how much I suffered, how much I thought I should die, something more was always lying in wait for me. I wanted to live so that I could always get to uncover the greatest mystery of all. Tomorrow.”
“I have also resolved to live for the future.” Tyrea looked over her shoulder again. “For the future of Teelan, Melia, and all High Entia, I will work in Melia’s service. And not only that.” She turned to face Fiora again, looking deep into her eyes. “I do not wish to let you down, either. For I never forgot that glorious lesson you taught me.”
“I hope you never do,” Fiora said. Tears had started to burn behind her eyes, not tears of sadness, but of joy and hope. She reached for Tyrea’s hand, taking it in both of hers, and smiled. The wind was tousling her hair, and beyond the dust still lingering in the air, she smelled the flowers just beginning to bloom. “Never forget it for as long as you live.”