Chapter Text
When Eleven found himself standing in front of the entrance of Arboria, the Sword of Darkness strapped to his back, he thought this would be easy.
It's just a matter of two months, he thought, relief sagging his shoulders as he climbed the stairs leading up to the central square of Arboria. He could easily sacrifice two months for countless lives.
And then he stepped inside the Church and realized just what he had done.
-
-
-
The journey to the Heart of Yggdrasil was painful.
Not in a physical sense – no, the monsters traversing the forest were weak, so incredibly weak that Eleven found himself holding back from completely decimating them in one strike. However, watching his friends struggle with the same, incredibly weak monsters was like a slap in the face, a constant reminder of this new-old world he had stumbled into.
The time outside the battles wasn't any less painful.
Eleven hadn't realized it before but here, among the greenery and flowers, it was almost absurd to see how optimistic, upbeat, innocent they all had been before Yggdrasil fell.
It seemed like a cruel joke, seeing his friends interact with one another, Eleven thought as he watched Rab chat with Serena. In his mind, Eleven recalled short-haired Serena casting her sister's magic with a fierce glint in her eyes that hadn't been there before – wasn't here anymore. He remembered Sylvando who, despite his seemingly never-ending fountain of optimism, would occasionally drop his smile and cheerful attitude when he thought no one was looking and tried to picture the Sylvando in front of him doing the same with no success.
Then there were the others. Eleven recalled how Rab had often looked at the burning debris with distant eyes and undoubtedly thought of Dundrasil. Jade, whose road to the reunion with her father was painted with the blood of Mordegon's victims. Erik who had been redeemed but still had carried the guilt of his sister's actions. Hendrik who was currently chasing after them.
Veronica.
Eleven's hands curled into fists. These people were like mirrors – once fractured and broken but now born anew. However, Eleven was used to the fractures, to the people who carried the burden of failure.
But those people were gone, lost to the rivers of time, and now Eleven felt like he was walking among strangers.
-
-
-
When Jasper fell, it had taken all of Eleven's willpower not to shout No. It wasn't like he particularly cared for the man – Jasper destroyed his hometown with the desire to kill everyone; he hurt Erik and used him as a lure and he was the major reason why it took so many months for Eleven to heal in Nautica after the Fall of Yggdrasil.
However, Eleven cared for his friends. And at some point, Hendrik had cared for Jasper -- had called him his friend, his brother-in-arms and now those years of friendship were threatening to stifle his spirit and crush his body.
In another world, Hendrik had been given closure – a reason for his oldest friend's actions and even a bittersweet goodbye – but Eleven had destroyed that world, that chance for closure and now all he could do was watch as Hendrik witnessed Jasper's body fade away.
Eleven's eyes flickered towards Mordegon. Their eyes made contact and perhaps if Eleven hadn't lived through the end of the world, he would have shied away from that stern gaze – but now he merely kept looking straight into the eyes of Mordegon's puppet with a neutral expression.
'We killed you once before,' Eleven thought beneath his mask of indifference. 'I delivered the blow that ended your life. And I'll do it again.'
Mordegon was the first one to look away.
-
-
-
After they returned to Heliodor, the rest of the day passed in a blur.
The walk from the main gates to the castle was overwhelming. Seeing the kingdom at peace – with grand buildings, smiling masses and bountiful food stalls – reminded Eleven that this was why he had decided to go back in time.
(He recalled the dread that had clawed his throat every time they visited towns after the Fall. When Yggdrasil withered and plummeted to the ground, so did most human lives and many cities had been reduced to dim remains of their past glory. Most of those who had survived had been starving, slowly but surely, as the food supplies were diminishing with each day and going outside of the city walls had been certain death to many.
Some of the smaller villages had been but mere graveyards. And the roads between each town were littered with the rotting remains of half-devoured corpses.)
There was a twisted sense of curiosity welling inside Eleven's stomach as he wondered what would happen next, now that he had managed to change the course of time. The banquet at the Heliodor castle was obliviously a trap -- a ploy to lure him and the Sword of Light within Mordegon's grasp.
I will play this game, for now, Eleven mused to himself as he and the others arrived at the castle. Just to see what you will do, Mordegon.
-
-
-
Seeing the people of Cobblestone was both a great relief and cause of extreme agitation. They weren't safe here, in the castle with Mordegon, where that bastard could easily take them as hostages. The part of Eleven's mind that had been seized with paranoia ever since he broke the Time's Sphere couldn't help but wonder if Mordegon knew that he knew – that he was either putting up a display to show Eleven just what was at stake here or he was trying to distract Eleven.
Eventually, both of those theories proved to be false. The relief Eleven felt when Mordegon revealed himself had rattled his very core but that relief soon changed into anxiety when Mordegon attacked them; while he didn't possess the Sword of Darkness, he was still a skilled sorcerer and Eleven's friends were still so, so weak.
The battle was long and difficult. The previous Mordegon had been drunk on power, on the strength the Sword of Darkness had given him and that had been his downfall. This Mordegon was different; while he lacked the sword and raw power, he more than made up for it with his foul tricks and mastery of magic.
However, despite his cunning mind and powerful magic, this Mordegon was still much weaker and eventually, he started showing signs of fatigue.
This was it, Eleven realized as he positioned his body to deliver a devastating Sword Dance attack.
Mordegon, too focused on dodging Jade's lance, never noticed the attack before it was too late.
For Dundrasil, Eleven thought, delivering the first strike.
Mordegon screamed, eyes moving to Eleven just as he moved his greatsword upward. For King Carnelian and Jade.
Mordegon made an aborted attempt to lunge forward, a hasty move Eleven avoided with ease before stabbing the sorcerer's shoulder with the smaller blade made of light. For Yggdrasil and all Her children who died by your hand.
Mordegon stumbled, gasping with pain. The small blade stuck in his shoulder disappeared – as it always did before the final slash. Eleven raised his greatsword above his head. Their eyes, one pair full of pain and the other emotionless, met.
“For Veronica,” Eleven whispered as he brought his sword down.
-
-
-
In the end, Mordegon's death felt oddly simple. Quiet. Nothing like the Fortress of Fear with its dreary interior and savage monsters. Eleven remembered the journey to the Palace of Malice, the fight with Jasper and the final battle with Mordegon inside the bleak throne room – then the victory and escaping the crumbling fortress on top of Cetacea. He recalled watching Yggdrasil's rise, the bittersweet happiness he had felt and the feel of Erik's lips against his mouth.
Compared to all that, this victory was but a silent echo – but a victory nevertheless.
It was in the middle of the night when reality hit him. Mordegon was no more – he was dead and Erdrea was thriving. Eleven's friends were all alive, sleeping soundly in their guest rooms.
He had succeeded. He could move on and heal.
A small, hopeful smile blossomed on Eleven's face as he closed his eyes.
He should have known better.
After everything he had experienced, he should have known what shadows the light of the Luminary could bring.
-
-
-
When Erdwin's Lantern crashed to the ground, so did Eleven's hopes and dreams of a better future.
Ice roared in his veins like a raging maelstrom, drowning out all other surrounding noises as Eleven stood on the balcony, body paralyzed and eyes unable to tear themselves away from the mass that rose above the Gallopolis area.
Eleven barely registered it when his body turned around and fled from the balcony, barely heard the others' voices behind him. All he knew was that he needed to get away from the prying eyes of his friends who had already sensed that something was not right with him.
Fortunately, the corridors were empty and so, no one witnessed the Luminary running away from the balcony like a coward.
Suddenly, all energy seemed to drain from Eleven's body. He stopped and leaned against the cool stone wall, throwing one arm over his face.
And suddenly, Erik was there.
As soon as their eyes met, the frown marring Erik's handsome face deepened considerably. He opened his mouth, most likely to ask what was wrong but Eleven's traitorous mouth was faster.
“Was it a mistake?”
Eleven hardly recognized his voice.
“What are you talking about?” Erik's voice was gentle. Soothing. He placed his hand on Eleven's shoulder, a gesture meant to comfort him but all it did was make his skin burn.
Eleven flinched. The small part of him that wasn't falling apart was yelling, telling him to stop talking before he failed the one last thing he wasn't supposed to.
To Eleven horror, a quiet sob escaped from his mouth.
Unfortunately, Erik heard him. “H-Hey, what's wrong?” the thief asked, panic bleeding into his concern.
By Yggdrasil, what wasn't wrong – what he hadn't broken and destroyed? It hasn't been even three whole days and now Erdwin's Lantern had plunged to the ground and given birth to something else.
Had he sacrificed everything for a worse future?
Numbness seized Eleven's body. The last whispers of any surrounding noises faded away and suddenly, the world seemed too bright, too colorful. He squeezed his eyes shut but his traitorous mind kept showing him the sight Erdwin's Lantern falling.
“Have I doomed us all?”
Only when the words echoed in the empty corridor did Eleven realize that he had spoken aloud. A silence fell over the corridor, somehow louder than any possible noise.
Erik was the first one to break the silence. “No.”
Eleven bit down the laughter that was threatening to escape from his mouth. Erik sounded so determined but he didn't know, wasn't aware just how much a failure he was-
“I...” Erik continued. “I'm not exactly sure if I understand what you're saying but... Eleven, this isn't your fault.”
Eleven's eyes flew to Erik. The thief looked hesitant like he was weighing every word he spoke. “It's true we don't know what the hell happened out there in the Celestial Sands, but we will find out.” Suddenly, Erik snorted, “I mean, it can't be harder than finding those six bloody Orbs scattered across the whole damn world, right?”
This time, Eleven did laugh. Oh, how he longed for those days when the world was still full of mystery and beauty and his biggest worries were the Orbs and hoping that finding them wouldn't be as troublesome as finding that blasted Rainbough.
Some of the tension on Erik's shoulders faded away. He straightened his back and lifted his chin before giving Eleven a cocky grin. “We have already saved Erdrea from evil and darkness once, I know we can do it a second time.”
Eleven breathed in and out, his mind clinging to Erik's unwavering confidence like a parasite. Some strands of hair had fallen over Erik's eyes, preventing Eleven from seeing them fully.
His fingers twitched.
He gave in to the temptation.
Slowly, Eleven raised his hand, gently tucked the rebelling strands behind Erik's ear and let himself believe in Erik's belief in him. Erik had been there when Yggdrasil fell, had suffered amnesia and gods know what during the months after the Fall. He had been there when they found the lingering spirit of Veronica. He had been by Eleven's side when they traveled the roads bordered by the remains of those who had died outside towns during the Fall. He had seen it all and more and yet, despite all that, he still loved Eleven.
Erik moved his head slightly, earrings swaying with the movement. A glimmer of gold was all it took to bring Eleven back to reality – because the Erik that had been there during those dark, desperate months had worn silver earrings, the ones Eleven made just for him. That Erik had been there during all that and still had believed in the Luminary.
This Erik didn't know anything.
This Erik's belief meant nothing.
Eleven pulled his hand back quickly. “I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” the words falling out of his mouth barely registered in Eleven's mind. Something dark and poisonous was forming in his stomach, devouring him from inside out and filling the festering wounds with poison.
He needed to get out; run before his last remaining threads of restraint broke. Eleven closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths and hating himself when his breath hitched several times. He had never liked losing control over his emotions; it made him feel too vulnerable, too open and the world after the Fall, when Erdrea had needed him to be strong, had only reinforced that feeling.
And once again, he would have to be strong – not for himself, it seemed like never for himself – but for others. For Erdrea and the faceless masses of people who had just witnessed a beloved star fall from the sky out of nowhere. The people were scared, unsure and in a desperate need for someone tough.
They needed the Luminary.
Eleven opened his eyes.
There was a tense set in Erik's jaw, like he didn't quite like what he was seeing, an expression that became more evident when Eleven asked, “Could you please tell the others that I'm not feeling well? I... I need a moment alone.”
Erik looked like he was going to argue but before he could answer, Eleven added, “I'll be fine after that, I promise.”
Judging by Erik's demeanor, it was easy to see that he didn't believe that – and why should he, when Eleven was a trembling mess about to completely fall apart.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity to Eleven, Erik spoke. “Okay,” he agreed reluctantly.
Eleven's shoulders sagged with relief. He lurched forward, like a marionette cut free from its strings. “Thank you,” he managed to utter out.
However, Eleven's feet refused to move immediately. He threw one last glance at Erik, rememorizing the familiar lines and curves he had once known better than his own. Erik stared back at him, confusion and a slight hint of embarrassment evident in his expression.
Eventually, Eleven turned his back on Erik and walked away. His steps were heavy, steadfast and gave nothing away about his inner turmoil. The castle corridors were barren – everyone was probably outside, witnessing the birth of something with the same twisted curiosity one would feel when poking a bruise.
Eleven arrived at the guest bedroom he had occupied the previous night. He opened the door, stepped inside and closed it.
The wail that broke free from Eleven's throat hurt his ears. He spun around and punched the stone wall. The collision set his knuckles aflame but the pain was a welcomed distraction, a way to feel something aside from the unbearable numbness.
The Fall of Erdwin's Lantern had crushed his hope for a better, truly peaceful future.
But seeing the light reflect from Erik's golden earrings broke Eleven's heart, for that was the moment when he realized just how utterly alone he was.
-
-
-
When Eleven emerged from the guest bedroom exactly thirty minutes later, his eyes were dry and expression serious. He walked to the throne room with steady steps, going neither too fast or too slow. His posture was straight and perhaps a tad too stiff to be natural but that seemed fitting for a calm young man like him. There was not a hair out of place, nor were there any visible injuries he might have sustained during the fight with Mordegon.
He was just like a Luminary should be.
-
-
-
That night, in the campsite near Heliodor, Eleven had a nightmare.
He dreamed of the nun he, Rab and Hendrik had met on the shores of Costa Valor; a young, spirited woman with a kind smile.
However, unlike most nuns with their pristine clean clothes, that nun wore a robe dirtied by mud and blood. Whereas the other nuns were often found near churches, doing ceremonies or everyday chores, that nun stood among dead bodies holding a rusty shovel.
When Hendrik had insisted on accompanying her to the nearest town, she had merely shaken her head. “As a servant to Yggdrasil, it's my duty to offer what little peace I can,” she had said, gesturing to the neat row of bodies by her feet.
They had left her there, digging holes for the deceased. When they had returned to the spot with the rest of their group intact, only the modest gravestones remained as a proof of the meeting.
And in his nightmare, Eleven once again stood on the shore of Costa Valor, unable to move his feet, unable to tear his eyes from the sight in front of him. The sight of the nun digging shallow graves, humming an old lullaby as the corpses of Eleven's friends and family lied neatly in a row by the shore.