Chapter Text
Gneiss and Gossan both have looks of frustration on their face when Syenite and Gabbro return to the medical cabin, but it’s Hornfels with their hands on their hips, a look on their face, and a lecture ready the second they see them. They’re halfway through a sentence when Gabbro holds up a hand and says, “I know. Syenite already gave me the speech.”
“You–!” Hornfels stops, looking over at Syenite, who suddenly wishes they were somewhere else. “They did?”
“They did.” Gabbro repeats, exhaustion dragging behind every word. “Can I sit down now?”
“Over here, hatchling.” Gneiss beckons them over with a combination of frustration and concern on their face, leading Gabbro back to the room assigned to them. With just Gossan and Hornfels remaining, Syenite turns to leave, but Gossan grabs their arm. Their grip isn’t too tight, but it’s clear they’re not letting Syenite go.
“Not so fast.” Gossan says. “I know you and Riebeck left the village crater. I told you explicitly not to leave.”
“You said not to take off, actually.” Syenite points out. “I never left Timber Hearth.”
“Why is it that you seem to care about the health of everyone but yourself?” Gossan sounds exasperated. “What if you have to go back to crutches?”
Syenite bites their tongue, looking down at the floor. They know they’re being hypocritical. The fact Gabbro listened to them instead of pointing it out just speaks to how patient Gabbro is with them.
Gossan lets out a sigh, turning to Hornfels. “Can you go get some food for Syenite? Porphy should have some leftovers from dinner.”
Hornfels nods, and then they disappear through the front door. Gossan finally releases Syenite’s arm, an expression of frustrated concern on their face. “I just want what’s best for you, hatchling.” Gossan’s voice is near pleading. “I want to help you in whatever way I am able. All you have to do is ask. Do you understand that?”
Syenite opens their mouth, and then shuts it. Their situation is bad enough—they shouldn’t say something to make it worse. They nod.
“And please, just. Try to sleep.” Gossan says. Syenite shuffles where they stand, unable to tear their eyes away from the wooden floorboards. So much for thinking they’d been hiding their insomnia well. When Syenite meets their eyes, Gossan’s expression shifts. They move slowly, stepping closer to Syenite. It’d be easy to pull away. They don’t. Gossan slowly wraps their arms around them, bringing the hatchling into a hug.
Syenite wishes they could pretend to be unaffected, but they can’t. They melt into Gossan’s arms, tears pricking at the corner of their eyes as they bury their face in the red fabric of their coach’s scarf. They wrap their arms around Gossan in turn, and the second they return the hug Gossan’s grip gets tighter, holding them closer. Syenite sniffles, ears drooping as they remind themself of just how much they missed being a normal hatchling. A hatchling without the weight of the universe on their shoulders, a hatchling who wasn’t stuck in a time loop, a hatchling who didn’t have to choose whether everyone would live forever and forget it all, or die and start all over.
“I know you don’t want to tell me what happened.” Gossan says. “But if you ever decide to tell me any part of it, I’m here for you, understand?”
Syenite nods from their place in Gossan’s arms. Neither one of them pull away, not until the door opens again and Hornfels arrives with soup and spoon in hand. Gossan takes both for Syenite, Hornfels leaves to check on Feldspar, and then Gossan leads their hatchling to the back porch of the medical cabin.
They’re in the cemetery again. Syenite stares out at the fireflies and lingering darkness, an expression of exhaustion on their face. They keep coming back here.
“Hey.” Gossan sets their free hand on their shoulder. “Still with me?”
“Yeah.” Syenite’s voice is quiet. Gossan sits down on the stairs of the porch, and Syenite follows their lead, sitting down beside them. Gossan carefully hands the bowl of soup over to them, and all Syenite can do is stare at it. They’re so tired. They’ve spent the day hiking around the planet and having breakdowns in front of anyone who spent more than a few minutes with them. They’re not sure they have the energy to eat.
Syenite tries to hand the bowl back to Gossan. Gossan refuses to take it.
“You have to eat, hatchling.” Gossan says as gently as they can. “How long has it been since you last ate?”
“I...” Syenite stares at the ground. “I don’t know.” They really don’t. They know it wasn’t today.
“Just a few bites, and then I won’t push any further. How does that sound?”
Syenite nods numbly, staring down at the bowl of soup again. They lean against Gossan, slowly forcing the food down their throat. They manage to get halfway through, despite how much effort it takes, and then they hand the bowl back. Gossan takes it, setting it to the side and rubbing their face as Syenite looks up at the stars, counting each one.
“Syenite, I want you to tell me everything you know about the Dark Bramble seed Tektite found.” Gossan says. “I won’t question how you know it. I just need to know how seriously we should be taking this threat.”
Syenite looks down at the ground, shuffling their feet where they sit. Tektite returned to the village yesterday, and Syenite knows that even if Gossan is true to their word and doesn’t ask, Tektite will.
Syenite breathes in, and breathes out. They’ll handle that when it comes to it. What’s important is getting rid of the seed as fast as possible.
“Space and time don’t really matter inside of Dark Bramble.” Syenite says. “The seed, it’s like an opening to the rest of it. It’s like a sort of, uh, planetary virus. It worms its way into the core of a planet, overtakes the surface, and then it–” Syenite cuts themself off, mimicking an explosion effect with their hands. “It’s gonna take a long time. A really long time. But it’s–” Syenite nearly chokes. Talking about the future, the far future, acknowledging that anything beyond the present exists, it makes their stomach churn. “It’s important to take care of now before it’s too late.”
“Alright.” Gossan says. They set a comforting hand on Syenite’s back, rubbing circles into it. Syenite looks like they’re about to pass out, head and eyelids drooping. “How do we get rid of it?”
“I– I have no idea.” Syenite mutters, keeping their eyes down. “I never really– It wasn’t something I worried about.”
“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” Gossan says, and they carefully adjust, nudging Syenite to encourage them to lean on them more. Syenite practically goes limp against them in response, and with each passing second, staying awake gets harder and harder. It’s impossible to keep their eyes open, consciousness fading as Gossan picks them up to bring them home.
—
When Syenite wakes up in their cabin—their actual cabin, the one they share with three other Hearthians, not the medical cabin—they’re not alone. Syenite sits up in their bed, watching as Tuff stuffs clothes into a bag. They’re the only other person in the room, but Syenite hasn’t talked to Tuff beyond a brief greeting since the time loops.
They were close. Syenite knows this. Tuff is only a little bit older than Marl, who’s only a little bit older than Syenite. They should still be close, but instead Syenite sits there in silence and watches Tuff as the tension in the room seems to grow.
“Hey, Sy.” Tuff says once they notice Syenite is awake. Their expression is already faltering. “Tektite said they’re gonna head back to Youngbark Crater soon, and apparently they want all the other Treekeepers with them, so...” Tuff looks away. Syenite realizes they haven’t looked away from Tuff or blinked in several minutes. They rub at their face, staring down at their blankets instead.
“So, uh, I’m getting ready to go with them. We’re leaving in a couple days, but I figured it’d be a good idea to get ready now.” Tuff says. Their voice seems to grow more and more hesitant with every word they say. Syenite doesn’t respond. They stare at their blankets, hands slowly forming into fists with the material between their fingers.
Tuff sets their bag on their bed, and then they nervously shuffle out of the cabin, leaving Syenite alone.
Syenite sets their face in their hands, body shaking. They can’t tell if they’re feeling everything at once or if they’ve gone numb again.
They can’t stay in the village. Not when they can’t even bring themself to speak. Not when they suddenly feel like the ghosts they spent so much time with. (Aren’t they supposed to be feeling better by now?)
Syenite is alone for the first time since they got back to Timber Hearth. They’ve been supervised for weeks, and now they’re finally alone. They pull on one shoe (their other foot is still in a medical boot) and then they crawl out through the window of their cabin, avoiding everyone else on their way out of the crater.
They don’t have a destination in mind. Just away.
Something brings them to the quantum grove. Syenite’s internal sense of direction tells them they were headed elsewhere, but of all the planets, Timber Hearth is the one Syenite spent the least amount of time on. They’ve spent the last several weeks stuck here, but that’s nothing compared to the lifetime they spent getting to know the other planets. So, Syenite ignores the inconsistency, heading into the crater and following the stream down into the center of the grove.
Gabbro’s poem is a reminder that Syenite left them behind. Over and over again, and even now. But it wasn’t their fault, right? Gabbro always said no, and now they don’t even have a choice, stuck in the medical cabin like Syenite had been. Syenite isn’t sure if they should feel guilty for not pushing harder, or if they should regret having asked at all.
Sometimes it’s better not to know the answer to a question, but Syenite has never been good at knowing when to stop.
“I’m glad to see you again.” Someone says. Syenite stops, looking away from the shifting poem. Standing in the pond at the center of the grove, the Eye of the Universe stands. Their dark purple robes flap gently in the wind.
“How did you know I was coming here?” Syenite asks.
“When there is nobody to observe a quantum object, it exists in all possible states at once.” The Eye of the Universe says. “The same applies to more abstract concepts. If there is no destination observed, then everywhere is your destination.”
“That...” Syenite narrows their eyes. “That makes no sense.”
“Doesn’t have to.” The Eye of the Universe says with a smile in their voice.
“You make my head hurt.” Syenite huffs. They sit down where they’re standing, and the Eye of the Universe leaves the pond, strangely-shaped boots leaving wet prints in the grass. When they sit beside Syenite, the astronaut brings their knees to their chest, hugging them close. The last time they talked to the Eye of the Universe was when everything was still ending.
“You gave me a second chance.” Syenite whispers, fiddling with the straps of the orthopedic boot they’re still stuck wearing. “And I ruined it.”
“You can’t ruin your life.” The Eye of the Universe says. “There is always a way forward. It’s only over when it’s over.”
“Well, it was supposed to be over!”
“You asked to try again.”
“Fine! You were right!” Syenite huffs. “Is that what you want to hear? You were right, I was wrong, and I’m just a ghost haunting my village now. Everything is going wrong, I can’t look my friends in the eye, Gabbro and Feldspar are both on the brink of falling apart, and every time I talk to someone they walk away hurt!”
“For a species with four eyes, you are remarkably bad at seeing what is right in front of you.”
“Stop talking in riddles!” Syenite pulls on their ears, hunching over and squeezing their eyes shut. “I just– I don’t know what you want from me! I don’t know what to do, and I can’t leave Timber Hearth, and I just– I want to be anywhere but here!”
“Okay.” The Eye of the Universe says, and then a gust of wind starts blowing so strong it nearly takes Syenite with it. The grass below them is stone, and for a moment Syenite thinks they’re on Giant’s Deep. They’re not. They open their eyes, and up above them is the vortex of the Eye of the Universe, lightning flashing every few seconds as the clouds above swirl and churn.
“Oh, stars.” Syenite’s voice is so quiet it might as well be silent. The universe is ending all over again and everyone and everything is dead or dying. Syenite is completely, entirely alone, up until the point there’s a hand on their back. Syenite looks over to where the Eye of the Universe is watching them from behind a Nomai’s mask. Fear is etched into every inch of Syenite’s face. “Not here.”
Syenite blinks, and then they’re in the Sunless City. Trees that never could have survived on Timber Hearth surround them, and a light from behind illuminates the cluster of plantlife that provided oxygen for the Nomai eons ago. The rest of the city is draped in shadow. Syenite gets to their feet, stumbling forward and turning on the lights for the city. The Eye of the Universe stands behind them, watching as Syenite takes in the scenery they’ve seen so many times before.
“I wouldn’t go any farther.” The Eye of the Universe hums. “There’s oxygen near the trees, but the rest of the Sunless City has been uninhabitable for millenia.”
Syenite takes a step back, closer to the trees that provide the oxygen for their lungs. They don’t want to die like that. (Probably.)
Behind them, Syenite knows there’s the Nomai writing, discussing the construction of the Sun Station. They don’t have to turn around to know what it says.
Idaea said that the knowledge they would have gained from the Ash Twin Project wasn’t worth the price of a supernova, and yet Syenite still ended up paying that price. Was it worth it?
As they turn around to look at the Eye of the Universe, robes still moving despite the absence of wind, Syenite doesn’t know. They want to say yes. They want to say no.
“I thought there was supposed to be a new universe.” Syenite says. “Why are we still stuck in this one?”
“One does not require the absence of the other.” The Eye of the Universe says. “But I cannot show you what has become of your creation.”
“Fitting.” Syenite scoffs. “Were the– Was it even real?”
“Very.”
“Were the travelers actually there?”
“In a way.”
“I already told you to stop talking in riddles.” Syenite scowls. “If they were, they would have remembered, right? They would have known. Chert and Riebeck not telling me, I can understand, and even Esker, but what about Gabbro? Or Feldspar? If nobody can see the outcome of what I did, was it even worth doing in the first place?”
“The Nomai created a method for discovering the Eye of the Universe, allowing you to witness it, but they never got to see it for themselves. Do you think they would take it back?”
Syenite falters. They look back out into the city, where they have the location of each skeleton memorized, each fallen piece of rubble. “I don’t know.” They say, but they do. They know the Nomai better than they know themself. Despite their failures, despite the tragedies, despite everything...
I have Clary and Root in the forge, and I have my clan. I am not alone!
Syenite can feel tears welling up in their eyes. The Eye of the Universe sets a gentle hand on their shoulder.
“The Nomai had a heavy burden to bear, but they relied on each other. You aren’t alone in this either, Syenite.” They say.
“I think I deserve to be.” Syenite’s voice breaks as they speak. “I’ve done horrible things.”
“The universe does not care if something is fair or not.”
Syenite hunches over, rubbing at their face as tears quietly begin falling down their cheeks. The Eye of the Universe brings them close, Nomai arms wrapping around them. Syenite’s breath hitches as they hug them back, every sound coming out as a whimper.
“I’m sorry.” The Eye of the Universe says. “Your journey is not done. It will not be done for a long while yet. I am asking you to persevere nonetheless.”
“How?” Syenite sniffles. “How am I supposed to do this? I can’t–”
“Start looking forward. Stop looking back.”
Syenite buries their face in the Eye’s shoulder, entire body shuddering. Their chest aches and their lungs hurt but their tears eventually stop coming, eyes falling closed as they try and pull themself back together. They can hear sand beginning to fall, slipping through the cracks in the stone and pouring back into the Ember Twin.
“You have done so much, Syenite.” The Eye of the Universe says. “You can do this, too.”
“Okay.” Syenite says, voice weak. “I can do this.”
When they open their eyes, Syenite is back in the quantum grove. The Eye of the Universe slowly pulls away, keeping a hand on their shoulder in order to keep them steady as a wave of dizziness nearly makes them fall over.
“You underestimate how much your journey has changed you.” The Eye of the Universe says.
“I’m an entirely different person.” Syenite snorts. “What else is left?”
“Everything.” The Eye says with an audible smile, and then they’re gone in the next blink.
Syenite huffs out a quiet laugh, sitting down in the grass of the grove. They rub at their lower eyes, ruffling the fur on their cheeks to hide the signs of them crying. Their entire body aches, but they’ll need to make their way back to the crater eventually.
They should tell someone. The Eye of the Universe is right, they can’t do this on their own. But they think of telling anyone, even Gabbro, the full truth, and their stomach churns. Everyone will hate them. Nobody will look at them the same way again.
“I can do this.” Syenite whispers. Maybe if they say it enough they’ll finally start believing it.
Hal deserves to know. Gossan and Feldspar do, too, especially Feldspar, but Hal might actually believe them the first time. They try to stand, and promptly collapse right back into the grass. Getting to their feet when they’re stuffed into shoes that don’t fit them is a more painful experience than Syenite had been expecting.
They untie their boot, pulling it off and letting out a sigh of relief as the tightness disappears. The medical boot is more complicated, with at least half a dozen different straps for Syenite to undo, but when it’s off Syenite can get to their feet without the pain that came before.
Looking at their reflection in the pond, Syenite expects to see their tear-stained face, cheeks a splotchy purple and eyes rimmed with red from the tears. They don’t expect to see a Nomai’s face staring right back at them.
Syenite’s breath catches in their throat, but they don’t look away. They get closer, onto their knees, staring at the Nomai that shares their exact eye color. Their fur isn’t the warm orange and brown tones that Syenite has seen in the Nomai murals. Instead, it’s a dark, bluish gray, and the fur of their mane is a pure white. Their antlers are the color of the night sky, and white dots are spattered across them like stars. They look like they’ve been crying.
Syenite raises a clawed hand up to their face, feeling the damp fur on their cheeks. Still three fingers, but each one is opposable to the others like a thumb.
“Oh, shit.” Syenite whispers. “I’m a Nomai.”
They get to their feet again, and this time they can properly appreciate how their legs bend in two places instead of just one, the way their words naturally form into the melodic tones of the Nomai instead of Hearthian. Their Hearthian clothes are still intact, pants ending just before their (first?) knee instead of going all the way down to their ankles like they had been before their transformation. Three eyes blink in unison, staring at the elongated pupils in their reflection.
This is...
“This is new.” Gabbro says. Syenite jumps, whirling around to face them and nearly falling as they get used to their new body. Gabbro walks closer, and as they do Syenite realizes that they’re shorter as a Nomai. Gabbro has always been taller than them, but now Syenite would have to crane their neck to look up at them if they were closer. “You’re Solanum, right?”
Syenite can only stare. When did Gabbro get here? What do they even say? Gabbro stares back.
“How about, hm, hello?” Gabbro says, hesitating when they try to speak Nomai. Syenite tried to teach them some during the loops, but they hadn’t realized any of it stuck with them. “I’m– I help?”
“Yes.” Syenite responds, Nomai easily flowing from their mouth instead of clumsily working through it the way they would as a Hearthian. Gabbro perks up at the response. “I need help.”
“Nice.” Gabbro gains their familiar lazy smile. “I don’t know a lot, so you’ll have to work with me here. I know little. Talk...” Gabbro hesitates again. “Talk no fast.”
Syenite can feel their eyes squinting with happiness. (It would feel off on a Hearthian face, but with the different shape of the Nomai face they can’t smile without it feeling unnatural.) They hadn’t realized Gabbro had learned so much Nomai from them, and considering they never practiced, Gabbro’s pronunciation isn’t awful. Syenite learned how to speak Nomai in order to talk with Solanum, but Gabbro never got the chance.
“I need help.”Syenite repeats.“I’m not supposed to be a Nomai. The Eye–”
“Slow down, buddy.” Gabbro repeats. “I help. Find friend?”
Syenite pauses. “Finding someone? Who?”
“Name Syenite. They walk here–”
Syenite grabs Gabbro’s shoulder before they can continue. “I’m Syenite. Me Syenite.”
Gabbro stares at them, lazy smile fading as they gain the expression they always get when they’re thinking hard about something. It’s not an expression Syenite sees often, so they wait, staring at Gabbro and waiting for them to connect the dots.
“...Find Syenite?” Gabbro says tentatively.
“I’m Syenite.”
“Where?”
“Here. Me.” Syenite points to themself. Gabbro has to understand.
“This would be a lot easier with Syenite.” Gabbro murmurs, after several seconds of intense staring from the Nomai that’s barely up to their shoulders. They hold out a hand. “Walk?”
Syenite takes it. Their fingers don’t fit together the right way anymore, but eventually they get a grip on Gabbro’s hand. “Yes.”
Gabbro leads them out of the quantum grove, and out of the crater. Syenite’s new feet take some time getting used to, but they manage, walking across the surface of Timber Hearth as their mind races. Where is Gabbro taking them? Why are they a Nomai? Obviously the Eye has something to do with it, but are they stuck as a Nomai forever?
Who is that?
Syenite can see someone sitting a few feet away from the edge of the village crater. It takes them longer to recognize them than they should, especially considering the pile of notebooks and scrap papers covered in Nomai writing that surrounds them.
“Hey, Riebeck.” Gabbro says as they stroll closer. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”