Work Text:
He hadn’t expected the explosion. He hadn’t expected the beam to come crashing down. He had been escorting a family to safety. It seemed to be going well, until pain shot through his body, so harsh it made the world go dark.
The pain hasn’t dissipated, at least not fully. His legs were useless, he could tell that much, and the lower part of his back felt so numb he barely knew it was there anymore. But pain coursed through every other vein in his body, so much of it he could hardly remember how to breathe correctly.
He reached up and felt his fingers graze his forehead as he wrenched his goggles off. It was difficult, and it caused blunt pain to spread through his head. He grit his teeth as he performed the task, attempting to stay quiet; he could see the last remaining shadows roaming around.
He brought his goggles onto his chest, panting. Despite his blurry vision, he could see the scarlet red substance covering his fingers and staining his shirt. He swallowed the panic that came along with this revelation. He needed to keep a clear head, try to figure out if he could do anything to help himself.
Could he do anything to help himself? The possibilities seemed limited, as there was only one person he thought may be close enough, but he remembered her earpiece malfunctioning so she couldn’t hear anybody through it. It would be useless to try and contact her.
Maybe… he tried to think, but it was as if merely thinking pained him. He must’ve hit his head hard on the ground.
He heard the crackling of blazing fires surrounding him, the unusual gusts of wind that could only signify shadows lurking in the dark; he felt the heat of the flames threatening to burn him alive if he did not find a way out of the wreckage soon; he saw bodies crumpled beneath beams much like the one now crushing his legs, and he knew they were dead from the way their chests did not rise and fall as his did, from how they did not shout for help as he wished he could. His heart pumped painfully as he realized how little people he saved.
But he refused to let pain and shame stop him. He knew it wouldn’t stop his friends, and it certainly wouldn’t stop his sister. He knew the right thing to do would be to push forward, to avenge those who died in the terrible accident by saving himself—if it was even possible.
No, he told himself sternly. I will find a way. Right now, what I need to do is figure out who can help me; who can get here quickly and potentially lift this piece of metal off me. He began to mull through his options.
His sister: she would be too worried, too panicked to think straight. She may even lose control of her powers as she had in the past. She wouldn’t be calm enough to follow directions to the letter, as this specific situation required. So, she was a no.
His mother: similar to his sister, but she would panic more. She was closer than his sister, but he didn’t want her getting hurt by any remaining shadows. He knew that being possessed was a fate a friend called worse than death. His mother was certainly a no.
He had already reasoned with himself why he couldn’t call his partner, and he knew not to bother his robot friends as they painstakingly repaired what was left of the Luna Moth. And anyway, they could never make it in time. They were too far away.
For a moment, his mind went blank. Perhaps it was his brain trying to shut down, or perhaps it was simply because he was thinking much too quickly. But very soon, a memory resurfaced. It was recent, as it had only happened a day earlier.
“Can you promise me something?”
“That depends on the contents of this promise.”
“It’s nothing horrible. Just—just a little precaution. To ease both our minds.”
“I’m listening.”
“Promise me that—if anything happens to you while you’re on your mission—that you’ll do your best to contact me. Or someone else, it doesn’t really matter, but…you know, preferably me, I guess.”
“Hm. I can promise that.”
“Great!”
“As long as you promise me the same thing.”
“Really? I didn’t know you cared that much.”
“Well, I do. That, and your sister might quite literally kill me if I didn’t have you promise. I can appease both myself and her at the same time; two birds with one stone.”
“Wow. I didn’t think you knew that phrase.”
“Alledia is not so different from Earth.”
“I guess not… Okay, I’ll promise, too.”
“…what are you doing?”
“Hm? Oh! This is an Earth thing. When you make a promise with someone, you connect pinkie fingers and it sort of seals the deal. Makes it so neither of us can break it.”
“Is it magic?”
“No. It’s trust.”
That’s right. His friend who had been through what could only be described as Hell and back trusted him. They trusted each other. What better time to call upon that trust?
So, he raised an arm slowly, weakly, and touched the button on his magic-infused earbud. He felt himself breathing shallowly, even as he tried to take in more oxygen. Ignoring the smoke filled air in his lungs, he whispered a name for the enchantment to hear:
“ Trellis .”
~~~
Elves were not trained in nobility. They were not told to look out for every person around them, even if they did not know the person’s name. They were taught that the world was every man, woman, and child for themselves. There was no room for empathy.
And yet, the most empathetic of Elves happened to be their very own king. The one chosen to lead them through thick and thin, to protect them in times of danger and uncertainty. He had, of course, done his very best with the time he was given. The people loved him dearly, and wished for him to reign for many years.
But the king held certain people closer than others. He knew the dangers of becoming close with another, and had always tried to refrain from doing so, but, in some cases, it was unavoidable.
The king, at a point in his life, had lost everyone who was important to him quickly and swiftly. The feeling that came afterwards, the feeling of loss after discovering the truth, was some of the deepest pain he had ever experienced. He knew he never wanted to feel that way again. He would protect those he cared for with his last breath. He never knew how much he truly believed that.
She was in danger when it happened. It very well could have been terminal had he not intervened. Their enemy threatened the entire existence of Alledia, along with every person who so much as thought about the place. The king and his partner were determined to stop their enemy from doing anything to harm the beloved planet any more than it already had. They knew the dangers. They knew what could happen to either of them.
It didn’t stop what occurred in Valcor from being completely unexpected.
The king’s partner knew a lot about him, yes, even that which he forgot years prior. But she had not expected him to protect her in the manner he did. She hadn’t been paying enough attention to her surroundings, had been too focused on protecting her mind from shadows to realize if anything threatened her physical body. She did not see the tendril of deadly spikes before she felt herself shoved away firmly and, when she turned, laid eyes upon her partner with spikes through his chest.
He could not remember if it was he or she who screamed. The pain that shot through his body was blazing, as if he were being torn apart and sewn back together only to be ripped open again and again. He had experienced physical pain before, but nothing came close to this.
He wished he could say he blacked out after he hit the ground, but it would be a lie, and he deeply despised lying. He felt the heat of blood spreading through his tunic and across his skin, but he tried not to remind himself of the wound in his chest.
He heard a muffled shout from his partner, but his ears were so full of a shrill ring that he could not decipher what she was saying. Perhaps directions for him, perhaps words of encouragement, but he did not know at that very moment.
They say your life flashes before your eyes as you die, but the king’s did not, and he was glad. He needed no reminder of his past, for it was firmly ingrained in his mind. He could hardly think anyway, even with adrenaline coursing through his veins as his body tried to repair itself.
Everything about his surroundings was distorted: the sound, the floor, the ceiling, even the air itself felt off. His perception of the world was twisted, just as the tendril that struck him was. He found himself unable to move, to speak, to hear. He knew he could if he tried, but, for now, he was rendered immobile and useless. An object to be protected.
But he saw the flames surrounding his partner. He saw how her power threatened to lash out on account of his possibly fatal injury; he saw how she tried as best she could to control herself because of her promise to him. Though his mind was warping every thought that crossed it, he remembered the promises he made before setting off on his mission.
“Hey…”
“Hm? Is something wrong?”
“No. No, everything’s fine. I just…have an inquiry, I suppose. Something that I have been worrying over.”
“What is it?”
“I…am concerned that…in the event one of our companions is injured or endangered in some way…that you may cease to be able to control yourself. Am I making any sense?”
“…yes. You are. It makes sense. Your worry. I…I do have trouble controlling my powers when I see one of you in danger. Sometimes the rage is just too bad to contain, you know?”
“Yes, I do. So—on account of this known facet of your slightly explosive personality—”
“Rude.”
“—I thought it appropriate to request a pact of sorts. Between the two of us. In a dire event such as serious injury, you do your very best to stay in the control. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone. This is the best way to do so. And I think it may help you, too, with practicing being in control of—”
“Stop overthinking so much. I was in from the moment you started talking. I trust you, and…yes, I promise to do what you say. I understand where you’re coming from. I swear to you, it’ll never happen again. As long as I live and breathe, I won’t hurt you like I have before.”
She was really trying now. He could see how the flames expanded and began grazing the hard floor beneath them. He did not expect it to last for far too long, and he braced himself unintentionally as his forearms and wrists screamed in agony at the memory of their relatively recent trauma (ghost pain, it was called).
But there was no fiery explosion followed by a giant Phoenix tearing through the room. There was no earsplitting scream that would break his heart into tiny, irreparable pieces. His partner remained on her feet, though unsteadily, and regained control of her powerful magic. He could feel the purity of her rage from his place in the corner of the room. She made a comment about how no one—absolutely no one—hurt the people she loved. He barely registered that she labeled him as someone she loved, and he blamed that wholly on his pain-filled mind.
He watched from his position as a paralyzed lump of a person as his partner used her anger to assist instead of destruct. Her flames of fury evaporated the enemies that surrounded them, and he felt his eyes widen slightly at the sight of the luminescent shield that protected him. He had never seen her create one so powerful, only thin walls that could barely deflect an arrow. He was always better at defense, but…it seemed, perhaps, that she had learned something from him.
Their enemy was not so easily defeated. The king desperately wished he could help his partner, but he would be utterly useless, even if he could manage to stand up and walk. The battle between the enemy and his partner persisted for what felt like hours, even though he knew it must have only been a few minutes. They fought neck and neck, matching one another in strength and magic. But his partner outweighed their enemy in wit, training, compassion, and heart. She was no longer fighting just for Alledia and its people; she was fighting to protect her closest friend, and she was determined to succeed.
The king felt his body begin to respond to his brain, and he moved his fingers consciously; started to shift, though it sent tiny bursts of pain through his veins. His amulet rose to his eye level, its bright blue light slightly dimmer than he remembered it from when he entered Valcor. The Voice—the deceptive creature that resided inside the shard of stone—was silent. As was, he came to realize, the rest of the room.
His partner raced to his side, and her warm fingers brushed his. She asked if he was all right, though quickly retracted the question at the sight of the bloodied clothing that clung to his barely moving body. For a moment, she faltered, listening only to the king’s quiet words of encouragement. But she then twined her fingers through his, and he did not have the strength to stop her even if he wanted to—which he didn’t.
A gentle heat enveloped his legs, arms, and especially his wounded abdomen. He knew the magic being poured into him was rooted in fire, but the feeling was pleasant. It was completely unlike the agony of his forearms, wrists, and palms that occurred on account of the hostile flames wrapped around them. No, these flames were kind, ones that reminded him of the warmth his uncle’s fireplace used to radiate in the wintertime. The notion of home and family that came along with it. He felt safe with the way his partner handled his wounds—he could feel them healing with a little more ease.
But even powers of regeneration have their limits, though this was mostly based on the stonekeeper. His partner was not advanced, not by any means, but she did all she could. The king knew he would recover much faster than he would’ve if it weren’t for those few moments of healing. If he ever returned to Ippo, he had a strong feeling he would be prepared to lead in a matter of weeks instead of months. If he returned.
The king whispered his thanks to her, mostly because he was thankful, but also in an attempt to clear the look of shame from her face. He wanted to tell her the incident was not her fault; that it was he who decided to push her away at the final moments, he who caused this possibly mortal wound. He opened his mouth to do so, but he was stopped by a name whispered into his ear.
“Trellis.”
He recognized the whisperer’s voice instantly. Navin’s tone was short—too short—and had an air of pain about it. These details worried the king deeply, and he worried that, perhaps, Navin was in grave danger.
“Navin?” he murmured ever so quietly, though he knew his partner heard loud and clear.
Navin—who Trellis could now tell was certainly badly injured—relayed the events leading up to his sudden downfall, and explained how he needed a rescue team. Of course, the captain mentioned this team for those who may have survived the brutal attack on the city of Frontera. As the king’s partner helped him up from the ground, Navin continued on weakly, trying to instruct his friend on what exactly to do.
Trellis and his partner began staggering outside, through the empty streets of Valcor, ignoring and avoiding the shadows that were actively fading from view. He listened intently to Navin’s directions, neglecting to tell his partner exactly what was happening—this was by request of Navin—and doing his absolute best to keep himself standing upright and not also dragging his partner down.
The wall that surrounded The Elf Kingdom was the tallest structure in Alledia, as well as the most difficult to get through. Trellis did not have time to fight his way through the Hellbent air or answer any Elves who remained loyal to his father. Navin needed him—quickly. Trellis told his partner they needed to fly directly over the top of the wall, and ideally straight into Frontera. His partner frowned at the idea, mentioning his only slightly healed wounds and how they could only help so many if he was hurt. But he insisted, forcing his power out of him and into the musky air. The two jumped impossibly high and soared over the wall.
As they continued to navigate the sky, Trellis wavered. His partner suggested they yield and walk the rest of the way, but he refused. He held himself up, not allowing himself to give in to the weakness building itself inside. He would not rest until he knew Navin had escaped his deadly predicament. She agreed, though very reluctantly, and they progressed until it was time to descend.
They landed in a barren world of ash and smoke. The once green grass was nearly dust; buildings had fallen on top of one another, dropping dangerous substances like glass and pieces of concrete from the shattered windows; fires raged steadily in a few places, foul smelling smoke billowing from the bright orange flames, though they did not spread; shards of shrapnel decorated the gray dirt beneath them, and Trellis found himself very thankful for his close-toed shoes.
The most terrifying part of the wreckage were the corpses beneath smoldering houses or metal beams. Blood painted the ground beneath them a terrible red, their clothes black and burnt at the edges. It was pure and utter chaos. So many innocent lives had been taken in the attack. It just proved how evil their enemy had truly been.
Shame poured itself onto Trellis’s shoulders. He should have been there. He might have been able to stop most of the critical damage and save the people who now lay dead with their children cradled in their arms. His duty and allegiance was meant for his people, for his kingdom, for Alledia. And he felt he had led it into ruin.
Navin’s voice whispered in his ear again, leading them to the damage site he was presumably in. Trellis trembled on his feet once again, and his partner held him firmly, recognizing how he had no desire of dying yet. Though, he would later be thankful for this tiny interlude, as it gave Navin’s partner time to find them. She emerged unexpectedly, frightening Trellis and his partner for a short period before they realized it was her. She explained how Navin had run into the city even after being expressly told not to, and how he did not return after the explosion.
Trellis could practically feel his partner’s worry about this situation, but he did his best to ignore it. They had no time to panic; only time to act. He led the two women—one stonekeeper and one captain, into the damage site. They soon began to call for Navin, shouting his name while also rejecting the smoke attempting to fill their lungs. For Trellis, this task was especially difficult, but it did not stop him.
“Aly.” Navin’s voice echoed faintly through the air. “Emily. Trellis.”
The trio walked as fast as they could manage, towards the sound of Navin’s weak shouts and pained grunts. They found him momentarily. The worry that had been hiding in Trellis’s stomach catapulted into his mind, and he nearly fell, but he caught himself. He had to focus. Navin was trapped beneath a metal beam, his legs and part of his lower back being the reasons. His brown eyes had no mischievous twinkle as they tried and tried again to flutter closed. Trellis, Emily, and Aly had to act quickly and without fail.
The first task was the easiest, but it could be the hardest emotionally: the trio had to combine forces to lift the beam from Navin’s body. Trellis noticed the blood soaking his friend’s uniform, but he pushed it out of his mind. He required full focus to execute the task safely. He pulled power from his amulet and, at Emily’s command, brightly colored lights wrapped around the beam and lifted it into the air. Trellis expected a shout of pain or even just a wince, but Navin was silent. His expression stayed the same: weak and tired but determined.
As soon as the beam was away from Navin, Trellis gave out. He unintentionally dropped to his knees, panting and clutching his wound. He felt Navin and Aly’s peering, worried gazes on him, and wished for them to disappear—especially Navin’s. He reassured them, telling them and reminding himself that he was fine, even when every bone in his body begged him not to; to let them help.
Emily reached out to her brother, tears in her warm brown eyes, the very same shade as his. Navin did not move, only whispered that they needed to leave Frontera. They needed to regroup somewhere. Trellis did not disagree, and neither did anyone else. Emily registered both Trellis and Navin for a moment before lifting her brother from the ground and into her arms. Aly offered to assist Trellis in his own movements, but he declined politely, deciding to walk on his own. Emily frowned at this, but said nothing; Navin asked if he was going to survive the trek without help. Trellis did not reply to him.
The group’s pace was slow but steady. The world was empty and quiet, with only the occasional chirp of a bird to accompany them. They did not speak to one another. Perhaps for fear of shattering the luck bestowed upon them by whatever gods might exist. They spoke nothing of where they were going or who they may find. To them, it was futile to talk about it. Eventually, they would find a place to regroup, and rejoin civilization. This was a guarantee, and they all knew it.
Trellis had his arms secured around his middle, putting what he hoped was enough pressure on the wound to stop it from bleeding. Emily’s magic helped, yes, but…it was far from fully healed and could not be labeled non-fatal. There was always the possibility. Trellis glanced at Navin, who lay limp in his sister’s arms, though his eyes stayed open, a small smile perched on his lips. He was…happy? How could he smile at a time like this? It seemed irrational, completely unexpected. But…then again, when had Navin ever done anything Trellis considered rational or expected? He was young and curious, which caused him to do many dangerous things. Trellis remembered how Navin disobeyed orders to save hundreds of lives fondly. His friend was a true hero.
At the thought of this memory, Trellis’s stomach lurched painfully and he collapsed onto the ground. He coughed—once, twice—but it did nothing to soothe the itch in his throat. Trellis closed his eyes tightly, having no desire to see what he coughed onto the grass; he had a fairly good guess. He heard Emily lay Navin gently on the ground and felt her hand come to rest on one of his trembling shoulders. It was comforting, yes…but it did nothing to quell the agony spreading through his body. He resisted the urge to fall asleep right then and there, though it was a strong feeling.
Trellis slowly opened his eyes and grimaced at the sight of his own blood. His gaze shifted when he heard his name called weakly. Navin had not stopped bleeding; in fact, it seemed like he was bleeding even more than before. He remained smiling in the impossible scenario, his brown hair tussled and blowing softly in the breeze. His mouth opened and he began speaking quietly.
“Thank you. Thank you all. You have been…the best friends…that I have ever had. Emily…you have always—always protected me, and…I’m sorry that…I couldn’t let you…save me this time. Trellis, you…you were the brother I never…had—no offense…Em—you backed me…through everything…you trusted me. You…came back for me. Thank you. It’s…because of you that…I can say…goodbye.” Aly whispered a small ‘no’. “Aly…Aly, look at me.” She did, laying her dark eyes on him. “I love you. Forever. But…promise me…that you will move on.” She shook her head, placing a hand on his cheek. “I know…it’ll be hard. But you can do it. You can do…anything. I love you…Aly. I…love you all. Thank you for helping me…live this amazing life. I couldn’t have done it…without you.” And perhaps, to Navin, just like Trellis, the world went black.
~~~
It had been seven months since the death of Navin Hayes. Alledia suffered greatly after the destruction of Frontera and the temporary decommissioning of the King of the Elves. Even now, certain aspects of the world were amiss. But, the king had returned, prepared to lead Alledia back to a time of peace and prosperity.
Emily Hayes walked quietly through the halls of the palace, her footsteps echoing through what felt like the whole place. It was an empty castle full of empty rooms. She had never so much as seen more than two people who weren’t her team anywhere inside. Of course, there always seemed to be citizens exploring the outside part of the palace. The only one who never did was the very person who owned it. This was also the very person Emily was searching the desolate rooms for.
As she searched the palace from head to toe, she found herself reflecting on the past few months. A lot had happened: her mother finally returned to Earth and was now dating a man by the name of ‘Andy’; Miskit, Cogsley, and the robots founded the Alledian Machinery Restoration Committee, which was becoming one of the largest companies in Alledia; Riva set off to fully restore Lucien and help it become a functioning society since the shadows disappeared; Vigo, Aly, and Leon left the ground to rebuild Cielis and reinstate the floating city to its former glory; Emily herself that established a relationship with…well…the best person in Alledia and Earth combined; and, for the first time in thirteen years…Emily had to live in a world without her brother.
Emily would never forget the feeling of despair and fear and anger that settled inside her the moment Navin stopped breathing. The worst part? She nearly lost the love of her life, too. He had fainted almost the exact moment Navin died. She couldn’t remember how much she screamed and cried that night. Aly was there to hold her hand through it all, even though she was sobbing, too.
“Emily…we should go. We can take them with us, but…frankly, I…I don’t know if we should. They would just wear us down.”
“No. We’re taking them. We’re burying Navin, and Trellis will get better.”
“Emily, I don’t think Trellis—”
“No! Don’t you dare say it, Alyson. I will not let them both die, you hear me?! I will be dead before I let that happen! So. Are you going to stand there or are you going to help me?”
Emily winced at the memory. She regretted being so harsh with Aly. They were both hurting that night. They had barely managed to get back to the team in time for Trellis. If they hadn’t…
No. Emily absolutely refused to think about the ‘what if’s. She shifted her focus from unhappy memories to the task at hand. Her fingers brushed the cold wall as she inspected the bedroom that belonged to a young prince many years prior. It was devoid of life, at least a happy one. There was only one room remaining in the palace: the master bedroom, through it was used mainly for the king to mull over mass amounts of paperwork. Logi brought more and more to him every day. Every time Emily thought there couldn’t possibly be anymore, the stumpy, furry Elf came scurrying back to dump another two stacks on his desk. It frustrated Emily to her core.
As she approached the open door, she knocked on the wood, which was harvested from the cut down Gadoba trees as part of the palace renovation. Emily quite liked the addition, and she thought the talking trees would also appreciate it, if they could see it. The Elf with white hair pulled into a braid turned in his seat.
“Oh. Emily. Come in.”
She fully entered the room and sat on the bed. She could see the paper strewn across his desk, even though she knew he did his best to organize them all based on importance—or, perhaps it was subject…she couldn’t remember; it felt like he changed the order every other day.
“You’ve been working too hard,” she said boldly. “And don’t tell me there’s no such thing because there is and I’m looking at it.” He sighed, remaining silent. “Look…I know what you’re doing is important. But you can’t work yourself the way you have and not take breaks. It’s unhealthy, Trellis. I know you’re smart enough to know that.”
Trellis tapped his pencil against the table anxiously. “I have no time for breaks, Emily, even if I want to take them. My father left the world in shambles. In a war. Now, it’s my job—my duty—to fix it.”
“You know what else is your job and your duty?” Emily asked. He shrugged, inviting her to explain. “Being yourself. Getting to know your people, exploring the outdoors because I know you love to. C’mon, the courtyard is your favorite place in the kingdom and you’ve barely been there twice. Instead, you’re holed up in this huge room sitting at a musty desk and doing boring paperwork. Let’s go do something.”
Trellis set down the pen and locked gazes with Emily. “What’s wrong?”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“You’re using a numerous amount of negatives when describing things that aren’t actually too terrible,” he explained. “And you want to go outside and do something. You want to distract yourself. Why?”
Emily fidgeted. This was not how this was supposed to go. “Okay, so…there’s a few things, technically. But…can you come to the courtyard with me? Just for a few minutes. Then you can come right back and finish your paperwork.”
He frowned, but stood and offered his arm to her. “Your wish is my command.”
Emily took it, unable to refrain from smiling. “What a gentleman.”
The two escaped the stressful aura of the desk and the paper, and made their way through the twists and turns of the palace. Emily held tight to Trellis, relishing the feeling of security that always surrounded her when she was with him. The moment they stepped outside, the sun shone down on the two of them, illuminating their silk clothing. Emily led Trellis to the courtyard, where she felt him stop dead in his tracks.
“Emily—? You—?”
Before him stood a giant statue. It depicted a boy of about thirteen years, with wavy hair and wide eyes that seemed to have a twinkle of mischief inside. He wore a wide smile as he raised his goggles for the world to see. He looked confident and humorous, but also kind and intelligent. Emily watched Trellis run his fingers across the words engraved on the pedestal.
Navin Hayes
June 4, 1998-April 22, 2011
Alledia’s Bravest Hero
Fallen during the Fall of Frontera after rescuing twelve families from the wreckage
Emily felt her heart beating quickly in her chest. She had never seen it in person before, only in writing. It was more magnificent than she had ever expected. The statue had only been presented to the public that morning, and there were already people crowding around it. One of them seemed moved deeper than the others. A girl with dusty blonde hair and sad dark brown eyes that matched her uniform.
“How did you…?” Trellis breathed, his softly glowing eyes awestruck.
“I was able to get a project form passed six months ago,” Emily explained, switching her gaze from the captain to the king. “I had help, of course.” Her smile widened as she saw her friends approach the courtyard. She couldn’t resist hurrying forward to embrace Riva and Vigo.
“Your Majesty,” Riva teased, bowing. Trellis grimaced at the gesture; he never was a fan of royal titles. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” She observed her surroundings as if it was the first time. “You’ve been doing a very nice job around here, Trellis. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your judgment, but…” His head was titled slightly to the right, though it was barely noticeable. “I thought you would be in Lucien.”
“I was,” she admitted. “But I had to return for this. We all did.” She gestured to Vigo, Miskit, Cogsley, Leon, and Aly, who had recently joined them. “Navin was important to us. It was devastating when we found out…” She hesitated, her voice catching in her throat.
Vigo put a hand on her shoulder. “We know now that he will never be forgotten. This is more than just a statue; it’s a memorial. I have no doubt it will be visited from people all across Alledia.”
“Yeah, because we took time out of our busy schedules to help the runt get the form passed.” Cogsley said grumpily, Dagno resting quietly on his shoulder. Emily knew it was his way of agreeing with what Vigo said.
“We all did.” Miskit added cheerfully. “I’m glad, too. It was all for Navin. Every last bit of energy spent was meant for him.”
Emily’s heart warmed as each of them said their piece. Trellis remained silent, his eyes still slightly wider than usual. After they finished their greetings, the group gazed upon the marble captain’s uniform around Navin’s smooth, white shoulders. It was truly a masterpiece. It would be known all through Alledia, Emily had no doubt.
Emily noticed, out of the corner of her vision, how Trellis put an arm around his wound site as if it still existed. It had scarred over after a few months, but she caught him doing this sometimes. She walked over to him, placing a gentle arm around his back. He glanced at her, and, for the first time in seven months, she saw tears in his eyes. She silently took him in her arms and hugged him. He cried into her shoulder, seemingly not caring that there were people, including their best friends, watching.
“I hope these aren’t ‘I hate the statue’ tears,” Emily whispered so only Trellis could hear.
“No…” He murmured. “I love it.”
They stayed there, in an embrace that could only be described as loving, before the statue of their lost friend. The others stood beside them, examining every inch of the marble. Behind them stood a figure, with wavy brown hair and eyes sparkling with mischief. He watched them, a smile on his face, happy even if they could not see him.