Chapter Text
Serena is very familiar with the myths surrounding the Luminary; after all, the Arborians speak of them almost constantly. And, beyond that, they talk and talk and talk about what his newest reincarnation will be like.
He’ll be tall, they tell her. Tall and strong and confident, with a deep, booming voice that strikes fear into every monster he meets. And that suits Veronica just fine, or so she says whenever the subject of romance comes up. (Frankly, Serena believes her sister protests too much, as though all that bravado is a cover for something. It’s not as though Arboria won’t tolerate their golden child being uninterested in their hero-to-be…)
But, truth be told, Serena’s ideal partner is nothing like that. In all the romance stories she’s read, she’s always been most drawn to the quieter heroes. Soft-spoken, and kind, and humble (perhaps to a fault). So, truth be told, if she was fated to be tied to the Luminary, she’d much prefer a quieter sort.
Veronica laughs at her whenever she says this. “You can’t kill monsters with kindness, Serena!” (It’s the one thing she agrees with the rest of their town on, it seems.)
---
“Serena!”
She awakens from her nap with a yawn, gazing around the room to find the source of the voice. Veronica peers up at her (wait, up? How strange…), mumbling something about thinking she was dead, but Serena still exists in that familiar sleep-rich haze, so the words pass over her without her retaining even one of them.
There’s a familiar sort of energy in the room; not like how she can find Veronica (“two halves of a whole,” Benedictus had told her, before realizing that she had nearly no magical potential), but something else. Like coming home, almost. Is this what Benedictus was talking about when he told them about meeting the Luminary?
The blue-haired stranger looks like he could almost fit the bill; perhaps he’s not the tallest, but he’s got confidence in spades (more than enough to compensate for her own lack thereof) and clearly has the strength to match. But her eyes catch a pair of hands moving, nearly tumbling over each other in excitement and nervousness, and as she spots the mark of the Luminary on the other boy’s hand, she realizes that perhaps she was more right than Arboria ever gave her credit for.
The Luminary— Eleven, he tells her, jumping to cut her off before the second syllable escapes her lips—is taller than his friend (Erik), though not by much. He’s not humble so much as dreadfully self-defeating, as though he’s carried the world on his shoulders long before he discovered his destiny. He’s capable in a fight (which is more than Serena can say about herself, if she’s being truthful), but the Arborians were most wrong about this above all else: how can a voice scare monsters if it’s not even usable?
“I’m not really sure what happened, honestly," he tells her as they land back on solid ground outside of the crypt. “It’s always been gone. Granddad picked up sign language on his travels, so I wasn’t lacking for words, at least…"
Serena thinks back to Arboria, to a strange journal kept in Benedictus’ home. Wouldn’t it be romantic if his granddad had been the adventurer in that journal? Following not in Erdwin’s footsteps, but in his grandfather’s...that would be wonderful.
And that’s where she gets stuck. He would be perfect, and quite truthfully, he is perfect...but he’s the Luminary, and if Arboria is right about him, about Veronica and Serena squabbling over him, then they’re likely right about her too. About her being a disappointment to Serenica’s name, to Arboria as a whole…(And yes, they may have been wrong about the Luminary’s demeanor, but perhaps that’s their sole allotted wrong guess? It’s best she curtail any hopes of romance, even if only to spite them.)
---
“What do you think I should do?”
The question, frankly, stuns her. She’s not used to being asked her input much at all, so for Eleven to approach her—amid his own frenzy over Erik’s capture, no less—is nothing short of a miracle, in her opinion. What should he do?
Little experience in being asked leaves little experience for having an answer, so she turns to Arboria’s guidance (not for the first time and not for the last, she’s certain). “Well, I was always taught that the Luminary’s duty to seek out Yggdrasil and aid Her in saving Erdrea comes before all else. So the High Priest would say—”
Eleven tenses the moment she says Luminary, and he cuts her off with an eye roll and quick signing. “Veronica told me the same thing. But what do you think? Not some priest or whatever, you, Serena, my friend.”
She pauses, collecting her thoughts once more. “I...I believe that Yggdrasil can wait until we save Erik,” she tells him. “I don’t think I can stand behind anyone who would leave their friends behind.”
He nods. “What kind of hero would abandon their friends? Not the kind I want to be, at any rate.” He grins at her, and she swears she can see the sun gleaming at her through his eyes. “Thank you, really. I’m still not the most sure of how this whole Luminary thing works, honestly…” He trails off for just a moment, seemingly lost in thought. “I guess I’m just supposed to fake it until I figure out what Erdwin did?”
And just like that, the mere mention of his predecessor shatters the moment.
---
“You know, I thought he’d be taller,” Serena hears someone say as she passes by the plaza. “Being the Luminary and all, I mean. Shouldn’t Yggdrasil’s chosen hero be a little more awe-inspiring?”
Serena does not often want to fight; even when traveling, she’d much rather stay out of any sort of scuffle. But she almost wants to, right now.
“Yggdrasil works in mysterious ways,” another girl replies, shrugging her shoulders as she giggles. “And with Heliodor being so dead set on this Darkspawn nonsense, maybe She thought it best to make Her choice less obvious.” She frowns. “But would it have killed Her to choose someone more confident? It’s as though he wilts at the mere sight of a challenge…”
“You know, they may be onto something with the Darkspawn business…” The first girl lowers her voice, as though she’s suddenly struck by the fear of being called out for blasphemy. (Serena, of course, can still hear, though she truly wishes she couldn’t.) “It’s possible that he’s an imposter. Maybe he’s the evil the true Luminary is sent to destroy?”
“Either that or we have a disappointment on our hands…” The second girl sighs. “Seems we have a long road ahead before we really see Erdrea saved.”
“We already have Serena, what's one more?”
Serena’s desire to fight them is suddenly snuffed out. She found Eleven—well, Veronica did, truthfully, but the details don’t truly matter—and they’re well on their way to finding Yggdrasil and saving the world, and yet in Arboria’s eyes she’s nothing more than a failed sage, forever in her sister’s shadow. (And she doesn’t resent Veronica for that, no; for all her sister’s jokes and false rage, she does care for Serena, anyone can see that.)
“Oh, goodness, I’m sorry, Your Luminary-ness, sir!” The pair of girls scatter, still giggling to themselves, and Serena glances up from her self-defeating haze to find Eleven looking at her curiously.
“I knew there was a reason I felt weird about this place,” he tells her, his grin clearly forced even to her all-too-often oblivious eye. “Not that I feel weird about you and Veronica, just. I dunno.” He’s rambling, which she finds entirely endearing.
“No, I agree with you,” she concedes. “They mean well, they simply...expect a lot of the three of us.”
“And they keep eyeing the rest of us weirdly. They wouldn’t even give Jade the time of day until she told them who she was.” He stares at the ground, all traces of his attempts at joy erased from his face. “And I think I saw a few of them cast dirty looks at Erik when he mentioned us saving him from Jasper. It’s like they think I’m the only one who matters here…”
Serena refuses to mention the private talks she and Veronica had with Benedictus about what being the Luminary’s guide actually means. About how they ought to be ready to throw themselves in the line of fire at any moment, to sacrifice themselves with no regrets should it mean keeping the Luminary safe. Truthfully, in their eyes, he is the only one who matters here.
“We’ll prove them wrong,” she mumbles, and she watches his face go through a medley of emotions and expressions, settling on a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.
“I wish I had your confidence,” he replies in turn, signs small and restrained. She won’t tell him she has no confidence at all.
She just places her faith in Yggdrasil and hopes that’s enough.
---
Faith, it seems, is not enough. And as Serena watches the world collapse around her, her only thought is that those girls in Arboria were right after all.
---
She won't say the brewing apocalypse is good by any stretch of the imagination, of course. But here in the Last Bastion, she’s not just Veronica’s sister, not just the unwanted half of Serenica’s soul; she’s Serena, one of the last defenders of Cobblestone and Heliodor. She may not be the best with a spear, and she may not be the most fond of fighting, but she’s learning, and she’s willing to do what’s necessary to protect those around her. And the soldiers are actually happy to see her and to teach her everything they know.
And yet....even as surrounded by people as she is, as appreciated as she is by those around her, in a way she never was in Arboria, she’s still dreadfully lonely without her sister, without Erik or Sylvando or any of her former companions. Without Eleven.
“I’m sure ‘e’s out there somewhere,” Gemma tells her one night, after another long day of fighting monsters and praying for any sign of their guiding light. “We both know ‘e won’t go down so easy!”
Serena wants to believe her, really, she does, but Gemma hadn’t seen what Mordegon did to him. Even if he is (was?) the Luminary, how likely would he be to have survived that?
Well, that’s what she thinks, anyway, until he drags himself to the Bastion, with a torn jacket and a visibly-broken heart.
She and Gemma both are clearly glad to see him, but their joy is tampered by how he carries himself. It’s almost like he’s a ghost, going through the motions of existence with no real care. (Aside from his visible frustration at Hendrik, which Serena can’t blame him for, really; she was the same way when she first found her way here, though she certainly showed it less.)
He barely says a word to her, or anyone, for days, and it takes the combined might of Carnelian, Amber, and some encouragement from his best friend to convince him to take the fight directly to the castle’s remains. And even then, he’s barely himself, to the point that even Hendrik (for all his difficulty interpreting how others feel or act) notices.
“Some kind of Luminary I turned out to be, huh.” He curls in on himself around the campfire, only freeing his hands to speak. “Just doomed all of Erdrea to a slow and painful death.”
Serena gently lays a hand on his shoulder. “Eleven, don’t blame yourself for all of this. None of us could have seen Mordegon’s plan coming…” She sees Hendrik open his mouth to speak and cuts him off, knowing exactly what he is planning to say. “You as well, Hendrik. None in Heliodor seemed to know anything was amiss.” She may not be as confident as some of the others in their group, but she knows not to blame any of them for what went wrong. (Perhaps she should listen to herself, as well.)
Eleven flinches at her touch, and it’s likely just the fire light making her think she sees his face turn red. “And if anyone from Arboria were to see me like this? I was supposed to save everyone, not stand by and let Mordegon and Jasper destroy them.”
She wraps an arm around him, and he collapses into her, shaking with silent sobs as she rests a hand in his hair. “Maybe,” she mumbles, “we can take a bit to be ourselves, and not just the Luminary and his guide.”
He nods, slowly, as his breathing finally settles down.
---
They survive Tyriant, somehow, and save the Bastion from imminent destruction. But there’s still a world beyond the Bastion, and while Serena doesn’t know too much of what other civilizations still survive, she does know that Mordegon likely will not rest until what’s left of Heliodor has been properly destroyed.
Gemma crafts a charm for each of them, El and Serena and even Hendrik, before they go, pouring her faith and her optimism into each one. She nudges Serena as Eleven returns home for a final visit to his mother. “Oy, you’d best not let ‘im get away. Y’ve gotten to ‘im quicker than I ever could.” Her gaze turns wistful, for a moment, and Serena recalls a conversation they had in the months Eleven spent sleeping in now-destroyed Nautica. (Of unrequited love on Gemma’s end, and what Serena had referred to as simply a silly crush on her part before Gemma fixed her with a knowing look.)
But the sly grin returns to Gemma’s face in seconds. “I’ve ‘ad my time with ‘im, an’ now I’ve got this place to take care of. So you take care of ‘im, you ‘ear me?”
Serena’s not sure that she’ll be much use taking care of him. They’re both broken, in very similar ways, and she’s never been good at taking care of anyone. Veronica was always looking after her, after all. But she agrees to it anyway; right now, he needs someone to lean on, and she’ll try her best to be that for him.
(Regardless, Hendrik tries to take the role from her whenever possible, which she never really fights him on. He’s got his own demons to work through, and if his way of working through it is to be everyone’s caretaker, then so be it.)
So she watches him, watches the despair-turned-relief on his face upon finding Rab and realizing he can be saved, watches him disappear to the fabric between life and death as she prays for his safe return. She watches over him as he recovers from his trip, sits beside his bed as he tosses and turns before finally settling into a (mostly) peaceful slumber. What is he dreaming about, she wonders? Are his dreams as wracked with memories of the Fall as hers are?
They all embark the next morning, in search of any way of reaching Arboria now that Eleven’s shaking, Mark-free hands have lost their ability to Zoom there. Without thinking, she reaches for his right hand as they travel, grasping it with her left and watching his face flush all sorts of colors before he looks away. Maybe he’s embarrassed, she wonders, but he keeps his fingers laced between hers, only letting go when he absolutely has to speak. Peculiar.
Well, they stay that way until a most peculiar band of travelers spooks the living daylights out of him, poor thing. Serena almost has half a mind to yell at them—goodness, this journey has already changed her more than she’d realized—before her eyes drift up to the truly humongous float trailing behind them and her eyes lock with Sylv’s.
“Oh, darlings!” They call, launching themself (their infectious joy hasn’t dimmed, it seems) off the float to scoop up Team Former-Luminary—even Hendrik, who looks tremendously uncomfortable—in a tight hug. “I thought I’d see the last of you when…” The smile slides from their face for an instant; perhaps they were just as affected as Serena, as Eleven, as any of them. “No matter! With you all as honorary members of my Soldiers of Smile, Erdrea is sure to brighten up in no time!”
The rest of the travelers—the Soldiers of Smile, Sylv had said?—hand them each a bundle of clothing; Serena holds hers up, examining it. It seems to be tailored to her perfectly...had Sylv prepared it specifically for her? For all of them?
She changes quickly, prepared to thank Sylv and their companions for the costume, but the words are knocked out of her head the instant she sees Eleven. It’s not so much the outfit, though it certainly suits him well, so much as it is how his entire presence seems...brighter, somehow. For probably the first time since she’s met him, the weight of the world seems to have slid off his shoulders; here, he’s not the Luminary, he’s simply Eleven, soldier of smile, and he seems so much happier for it.
She looks at him, really looks at him, watching as he bursts into a fit of giggles at the sight of Rab and Hendrik’s garish outfits (how did Sylv get Hendrik’s measurements?), and for the first time she’s truly certain that her feelings towards him have nothing to do with Erdwin or Serenica; she’s just Serena, and he’s just Eleven, and she might be a little bit in love with him.
He runs towards her, clearly caught up in the enthusiasm of Sylv’s merry band, and grabs her hands, twirling her in time with the music. She lets herself get carried away, nearly swept off her feet both figuratively and literally. It’s easy to forget there’s a world beyond this moment, beyond music and joy and love (if she dares call it that).
But the band plays their final note, and Team Former-Luminary remembers there are people to save and monsters to fight, and as they leave the Soldiers of Smile in Puerto Valor, Serena watches Eleven pack his costume away and settle back into his role as failed Luminary.
---
She watches him slip under the waves, and while the rest of their group panics, Serena simply offers a prayer to what’s left of Yggdrasil. Have faith, she tells herself through her own fear, and when he finally finds his way out of the water and back to them, she’s not surprised in the slightest.
She watches him vanish before her eyes, gone into thin air while attempting to help the ghost of his father, and with shaking hands and shaking voice she prays once more. He’s survived so much already, they all have, and surely this is no different, but whatever has a hold on King Irwin gives off a powerful evil aura only matched by Mordegon himself. All she can do is have faith…
He reappears after the longest thirty minutes of Serena’s life, shaking like a leaf but still somehow possessing more confidence than she’s seen of him in months, and when his Mark glows triumphantly as he charges into battle, she fully understands.
---
Truthfully, Serena had thought things would grow easier with Eleven’s Luminary powers reignited, but it seems the worst was still yet to come. Between Jade’s living nightmare and Erik’s treasure trove of trauma, she’s now keenly aware just how easy she had it in the Bastion.
At least Veronica is safe, even if she’s been slumbering away in their old playground. An amusing echo of how Veronica had found her in the crypt, she muses...but something just isn’t quite adding up. How had no one in Arboria seen her? And why isn’t she waking?
Serena knows the answer long before Eleven reaches for the staff, before what’s left of Yggdrasil shares Her own view of what happened; she’s simply lying to herself.
The vision fades and she watches the group fall apart around her as she takes the staff from Eleven, willing away the tears in her eyes. There will be time to cry later, but for now, she ought to be the strong one.
She manages to stay strong through the funeral, even when the rest of her hometown cries and curses the sky. She stays strong while her friends mourn, while Eleven stares off into the distance, almost certainly blaming himself for it. (For all that he’s grown, some things truly don’t change.) She stays strong through most of the walk back to the inn until a familiar pair of voices has the misfortune of gracing her ears.
“Looks like we were right after all.” It appears that nearly a year hasn’t changed the gossiping girls’ minds in the slightest. “The one competent person involved is gone. Might as well prepare our own graves now; I’m certain Erdrea won’t bounce back from this.”
They’re still in earshot of the rest of town; even Eleven is still around, though she’s noticed the town is treating him far less like royalty than they had the last time they were here. Everyone in Arboria can hear them. No one is defending her, defending Eleven, for that matter. Why is no one arguing with them?
A year ago, she wouldn’t have said anything. She would have let them say their piece, would have suffered in silence. But she’s changed a lot in her travels, she’s become stronger, both body and heart. And she won’t stand by and watch others slander her friends now.
“Perhaps you’d like to take our place, then?” she asks, plastering a smile on her face. Kill them with kindness, she thinks. “You’ve had plenty of time to learn to fight, after all. Surely your magic would serve you better than mine ever did?”
They eye her, mouths agape in shock as the rest of the town pauses in their mourning to look at her. Who’d have thought nervous little Serena would stand up to them? “Well, uh,” one murmurs, “we don’t have the training you do. And if you couldn’t stop it—”
The smile doesn’t move from Serena’s face as she interrupts. “Oh, I’m surely not a good example. I’m just a disappointment, am I not? Surely those as accomplished as yourselves could do better than the Luminary and his trusted companions?” There is, perhaps, a bit more bite to her words than she would have expected of herself, a bit of Veronica living on through her, but the more vindictive parts of herself believe it’s more than warranted.
The girls back away, slowly retreating to whichever house is theirs, and the town returns to the final hours of the funeral. Her eyes meet those of her friends; Erik and Sylv actually clap, and all of them grin at her with pride in their eyes.
Eleven’s eyes meet hers, sparkling with all sorts of emotions behind them, but he quickly looks away as his cheeks burn red. Hm, how strange…
---
She cannot sleep, not tonight, so she slips out of her room, harp in hand, and sits by the fountain, strumming whatever comes to mind. Lullabies from her childhood, melodies she picked up from the towns they visited on their journey, eventually settling on a melancholy love song, supposedly penned by Serenica herself. She lets herself get lost in the melody, closing her eyes as her fingers pluck at strings, only opening them when she feels a peculiar weight against her shoulder.
It seems Eleven can’t sleep, either, though Serena can’t say she’s terribly surprised; he heard every word those girls said earlier, and as much as she knows he’s begun to push his old doubts away, she can’t imagine today’s revelations have helped at all. He glances up at her when she stops playing, leaving his head on her shoulder as he signs, “Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I was enjoying the music…”
His face is red again. How terribly strange, it’s almost something out of one of her love stories...no, that can’t be it. Can it? At the very least, now certainly is not the time to solve that particular mystery.
“Can’t sleep, either?” Oh, goodness, he’s still speaking. “Can’t blame you. It’s been a long day, and with everything they were saying earlier…”
She sighs. “For all of my bravado earlier...it seems they have a point. I almost learned no magic at all...Veronica was always the more promising of the two of us. And she’s gone.” It seems now all of the emotions she had bottled at the funeral are threatening to flow from her. “Perhaps if it had been me in her place—”
Eleven grabs her hands, releasing them only when he’s sure she won’t finish that sentence—goodness, he must truly want her not to go down that line of thinking. “No. You’re here, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I just don’t quite know how to be my own person,” she admits. “Veronica and I have been a pair all our lives…”
He raises a single eyebrow in response. “Of course you know how. You’ve been on your own since Yggdrasil fell, and doing a pretty good job of it, in my opinion.” He stops for a moment, stifling a laugh. “Goddess, is this how it sounds when you all are trying to boost my confidence? I am so sorry.”
She lets out a giggle of her own, and that somehow seems to unleash the floodgates, and she collapses into tears. He wraps his arms around her, seemingly unphased by the sudden onset of sadness, though if she thinks about it, hadn’t she served the same role for him after he woke?
“Thank you,” she murmurs, wiping the tears from her eyes as she finally pulls herself together. He says nothing in reply, just offering a kind smile. (Past lives or not, it’s no surprise that she fell for him.)
“You know,” she tells him, “I wanted to braid my hair like Veronica.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder, idly running her fingers through the strands. “I suppose I thought that if I couldn’t match her strength, I could at least imitate her style…”
She can feel him laugh in response as he pulls away to talk to her. “Screw that. You’re a pretty good you, no need to match Veronica or anyone else.” He grins once more, but it’s not quite the same, not so much reassuring as it is...something else. (Again, strange.)
She nods, lost in thought for a moment before pulling her hair together, as though she intends to tie it back. “Would you mind lending me your sword for a moment? Even if I still wished to match her, there's no point in doing so now that she’s gone…” It would only serve as a painful reminder now, and what better time to cement herself as her own person? Not Veronica, not Serenica, just Serena.
He springs to his feet, reaching into his bag and retrieving a knife that Erik had long outgrown. “I’ll do you one better; I’ll cut it myself.”
She nods, and as the severed strands scatter to the winds, she feels a peculiar warmth in her heart; she snaps her fingers, curious to see if Veronica has passed on her magic to her twin, but there’s no flame, no ice, no explosion.
“Hey, like I said,” Eleven tells her, “you’re you.”
That, somehow, makes her heart feel lighter than ever.
---
Mordegon has fallen, Erdrea has been saved...and yet, it still feels that something’s not quite right. One last adventure for them all...one that seems to end with Veronica’s resurrection, if the ruins were correct. And Serena wants that, truly, more than anything.
But at the cost of Eleven? Or, more truthfully, losing Eleven as he tries to prevent Yggdrasil’s fall in the first place, with Serena and the rest left behind? Assuming this time even survives…
“Are you certain about this, Luminary?” Hendrik asks, ever so formal as always, and Serena watches Eleven’s face scrunch in distaste at the title.
“I…” He seems unsure, if Serena is reading him correctly, but he shakes his head, growing more confident by the second. “I know it’s risky, but I want to find a world where I stopped Mordegon before he could kill Yggdrasil. Before he could hurt any of you.” For all of his confidence, there are tears brimming in his eyes. “I want you all to become the strong, wonderful people I know you are, without having to suffer so much."
That answer seems to satisfy them all, and Serena can’t find fault with it, if she’s being honest. If there was a way for her to find strength without losing her sister, she’d burn the world for it.
Those around her bid their goodbyes, but she’s almost too shy to speak, at least until Erik and Jade shove her forward. “Um,” she whispers, “I really do hope you’ll bring me along next time, too.”
He turns, rushing towards the strange creature guarding the time sphere, hurriedly signing something she can’t make out. They respond in turn, hushed whispers she can barely make out, “unsure of the consequences” and “only one” and “well, if you are certain” before he nods, rushing back to his friends. Strange…
“Come with me,” he says more than asks. “You have the most to lose if you stay here. And if we both break the sphere, we should be okay.” He grasps her hand with his, beaming.
She gapes in response, gaze aimed at the rest of the party, who seem surprisingly on board with this. “I…”
She doesn’t want to leave them behind, but it would be terribly lonely for Eleven if he had to bear that burden alone…and perhaps she’s being a bit selfish, hoping for a chance at something more than mere friend by traveling back with him.
But, a part of her that sounds suspiciously like Veronica says, hasn’t she earned that right? Hasn’t she earned a happily ever after, however that may manifest?
Her friends each offer a goodbye; a hug, a salute, a handshake, even one particularly strange request from Jade not to break her brother’s heart. (Her thoughts return to Eleven’s strange behavior; perhaps they should address it after they stop Mordegon one last time.)
And finally, she and Eleven each grip the sword, bringing it crashing down on the sphere, and they watch the world around them unravel, giving way to something brighter...