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Branches crack under your boots as you walk alone around your wrecked base. The branches are your savior's, your captain's, the man you failed to protect but who gave up on his everything so you could live.
Capes are torn, uniform dirtied by blood, by magic, by dirty mud. Insignias cover the ground, and you wonder if that golden badge has always looked this dull. Everywhere your gaze falls, you see evidence of something that can’t have happened but has. The first Magic Knight squad in the Kingdom attacked in its own home and decimated. Half of them are gone. The Golden Dawn, your family. The powerful, glorious, majestic Golden Dawn. Attacked. Defeated. Dead.
You briefly wonder what could have happened if the best healer of the squad had been here, if her strength had been able to take some of the burden off you, off your captain. You briefly wonder but you don’t linger. In the end, you prefer she didn’t have to see this.
Those who can stand try to. Some fall back to the ground, too weak, too weak to pretend they’re still here, breathing, walking. And they cry, they cry and they cry because they’re still here when their best friends are not.
You don’t bother lifting them up. If there is one thing you know, one thing you are absolutely certain of at this moment, it’s that putting one knee to the ground will have you crumble into a million pieces.
They won’t get back up ever again and you won’t.
You breathe in. You breathe out. And you walk on.
You know all of them and you think it’s painful enough as is, but now others have arrived. Family, friends, parents, children. You see older people, you see them watch, point, ask questions, and stare, stare at the corpses, their daughter, dead, lifeless, their pride, so so proud of their daughter who made it into the Magic Knights, into the Golden Dawn, into the first brigade, the best, strongest brigade that should’ve kept them safe… but didn’t.
You flinch and turn away when you see children break free from shocked and weak arms to bolt to the dead body of one of your comrades. You can’t watch that but can’t help but hear the supplications, the innocent questions that weigh on your heart. They’re not coming back.
You’re supposed to be prepared but you’re not. You’re supposed to know but you don’t. A Magic Knight is a weapon. You defend the country, the citizens, you protect the peace. You’re the one who stands when they can’t, you’re the one who guides and reassures them when they’re scared. You’re the one who strikes down on enemies mercilessly so you can all live in peace. You’re a weapon.
If you’re a weapon, how do you feel so much?
With you, I serve
With you, I fall down
You contact the only person who can help you now, but you’re appalled at how little of everything you manage to get out. You state facts. There are some things you just can’t speak about, there are some things he doesn’t need to know. He says he’s summoning a captain’s meeting first thing in the morning, in an hour, and tells you to get some sleep.
Sleep sounds so unnecessary, no matter how exhausted you are. If you fall asleep now, will you even wake up?
You look at the pocket watch that the lifeless squad mates lying on the ground gave you to celebrate your promotion to Vice Captain and can’t believe it’s already this late. Or this early. You can’t believe it’s still far from over. You're also glad it's far from over. Vengeance is nothing but a spark for now. So easily squashed by the weight of your regrets and grief. You'll wait. There is still tomorrow.
You’ll attempt to sleep, even though you’re asleep. It’s nothing but a nightmare. A bad nightmare you’ll wake up from and Hamon will be having the biggest breakfast, as usual, and Siren will be silently watching, as usual, and everything will be as it used to be. You’ll wake up. But you won’t.
And still, you lie down.
And still, you close your eyes.
And still, you take a deep breath.
And still you try to sleep.
You’re alive.
You’re alive.
You’re alive.
And you have to go on.