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“......I think we should throw a party.”
Remains of the sphere of crystalized time lay shattered before them, golden glints of scattered sand dusting the plinth, and her sombre voice was low and harrowed, serious, echoing endlessly to the depths of the tower. It was the first particularly open thing any of them had managed beyond restrained sniffles and quiet goodbyes to the open air. But she stood, back straight, staring at the epicentre, the point where Eleven had stood but a moment ago, the empty pedestal and silent spectre-like figure all that The Luminary left behind.
Besides themselves, that is.
Rab was the one to speak up, a narrow look and an almost scolding tone coming out harsh as he turned from a teary Serena and quiet Jade to admonish the idea. Too soon, far too soon for what seemed like a joke.
“I really dinnae think now is the time, lassie.”
“I do,” Sylv pressed as she looked back down at him, frowning and crossing her arms.
The Luminary was gone. Eleven had taken The Sword Of Light to the physical embodiment of time itself and vanished into naught but breath and flickers of white light. There was no trace of him. He may never return - that spirit, the one that now loomed where The Sphere once was, it had said there was no way at all for him to ever come back, that he had destroyed time…. Sylvando was not sure she believed that. Eleven could do anything. Even change fate, alter time, defy all odds. But for now, he was gone… and when someone leaves, there are always questions.
Sylvando cast a glance up at Hendrik. He did not look back - head lightly bent and brow drawn down, jaw tense and fists balled. He was struggling; he had sworn an oath to protect Eleven until the end, and the end had come, and Hendrik, just as the rest of them, could not follow him any further.
The ghostly spirit that stood by the now-empty pedestal of broken time looked at them, him, Hendrik, tilted it’s head as if confused, remembering, trying to see - and then turned away, its back to them all, its interest gone and not to return. Strange thing. But this journey had allowed Sylvando to see many a strange thing. She herself was a strange thing. And she had always prided herself on making things right, bringing comfort where she could, keeping the group together and warm and safe. With Eleven gone, there was a hole where some of that warmth ought to be. The grief would heal in time, she was sure - time, oh she could scoff, healed all wounds. But right now they were all hurting, and they lacked a leader, and she had to aid them find a new path now that Eleven had hopped onto one they could not step adjacent to.
The party were all silent, and there was but breathing and the reverberative, monstrous tick-tock-tick that filled the air, and the tower was so enormous that the cusp of her vision was dark and gloomy. Anger felt like a just emotion. So did sadness, and betrayal, and heartbreak. But those would get them nowhere, and plans had to be made. Nothing lasted forever, not even the good times. That’s why she had to keep luring them back, had to keep summoning smiles when and where she could. Sylvando had never believed in mourning.
“Think about it,” She said aloud, softly yet still holding a tone of distant authority. “We were all just having a get-together. A quick trip out to stretch our legs and check in on things together after it all… and now Eleven is gone. Eleven is gone and we can’t just get him back,” She could see Erik look up at her - poor boy was trying so hard to remain hopeful if not impassive, to appear anything but griefstricken, but Sylv could see how crestfallen he really was, and how cutting her words - the truth - were. “Think about it from an outsider's point of view, just for a moment. As someone who isn’t any of us, isn’t here. We all went up and took down Mordegon just a couple days ago. We had a few days to heal our wounds and rest, and then we all separated to see our families and make sure everyone was okay, and then we met up again to check on each other. And now, we all take off with little more than a ‘we’ll be back later’ to everyone, and we come back missing the most important person in the world… In a lot of people's worlds….”
Hendrik slowly looked over too - they had remained close, stood together on the left of the little bridge to the platform, always the most comfortable when the other was in arm’s reach. Anything to make up the almost two decades of overt separation. And now they not only faced separation again but were surrounded by it. Phnom Nohn felt like so long ago and so far away; a bridge had united them once more and now a bridge separated them from their boy. And not just their boy. Sylvando could see recognition dawn on Hendrik’s face, an anguish more subtle but just as striking as the absence of The Luminary - the realisation of the fallout that now followed.
“...what am I supposed to tell his mother…?” He whispered. “That woman, in Cobblestone… I promised that I would protect him. I swore that I -” Hendrik’s frown twisted further, shoulders drawing up as he looked away again, to anywhere but the presence of his friends. People were forever hard to face. And no one was harder to face than someone freshly wounded. Than a friend torn away from another. Than a grieving mother. Sylvando pretended her heart wasn’t broken, that she really did look forward to some unknown aspect of her seeing Eleven in the past and did not simply mourn the present, the future, what came next. “...I must tell her. It would be cruel to leave her in the dark. To feign ignorance. We cannot simply… we cannot lie and pretend that nothing has happened here today.”
“Aye. But we cannot tell the whole truth either,” Rab’s hand came to his own chin. Sylvando tilted her head down at him - his eyes were lined with red and he suddenly looked so much older… together, the two of them and Hendrik, especially in those early dark days after reuniting from the fall, they had spoken so much and often of the family members they had lost. Eleven’s dear mother and father, Dundrasil, Zwaardsrust and blood and monsters, siblings, The Princess, Jasper, Sylvando’s mother, promises and the act of leaving behind her hometown and fellow knights and her father… often, the three of them had bonded over sharing fond memories, reflecting on moments that could have gone better, things left unsaid. “I think it may be best we… avoid certain implications. People will ask, and a lie is hard to keep up with, especially when there are six of us to keep things straight with. We cannae all just say we don’t know what happened, or make something totally up, but I dinnae think its a good idea to tell people outright that wee Eleven up and - well.” Vanished goes unsaid. Left us. Stopped existing, stopped being here. Went away. Rab swallowed, uncomfortable, sniffing slightly to keep his composure. “...maybe we just say Yggdrasil had a plan for him. That he was needed and we couldn’t follow him. That it couldn't be helped. But that all will be alright soon enough. He's the chosen one, after all.”
Lacing things with hope was never a bad idea. They could pretend that he’d be back in no time. No time at all.
“I think that’s best,” Serena, voice mousey and fragile but getting stronger by the word. She had speckles of sand on her cheek that had grooves running through them made by tears - but her eyes and face alike were dry now. Erik stood at her side the way Hendrik stood by Sylvando, still silent and distant, the quietest and most hurt of them all. But he listened as she spoke - they all did. “We all know how strong he is, how much power that of The Luminary is. Strange things happened to the fellowship of the last Luminary, didn't it? Erdwin himself became that star in the sky, or so it's said, and Serenica vanished, and Morcant was never seen from again… Sir Drustan is the only one we really knew what happened to, and he had the most normal human life after. But The Luminary himself, the original Luminary, we never fully knew… but his sword was up there. And The Tree Of Life has returned to us. If we tell people that Yggdrasil called Eleven to it, that it had another job for him, that it was something we couldn’t help with but that we all made sure he had everything he could need first and we saw him on his way… we could keep things secret enough.”
None of this was fair - she could feel the sentiment practically radiating from Hendrik to her left, a quiet seething smothered by sadness, deep, ungraspable, unfightable sadness. Honesty had always been paramount to that man - he couldn’t put on a fake smile and walk away from regret the way Sylvando did, had, does. To soften a blow was a learned skill, and all of them would have to pretend that the flash of light that had taken The Luminary away was one of kindness and hope, the way Eleven wanted it to be, and not of removal and absence, the way they all felt it to be.
Feelings and reality were two separate things, after all. But sometimes, cruel times, times full of lots of things and nothing at once, the line blurred, and everything felt so very wrong now.
“I imagine the idea of time travel isn’t exactly a palatable one to a lot of everyday folk,” Jade mused, gaze towards the empty pedestal but possibly beyond it, the middle distance more comforting that the emptiness up close. “We don’t want questions and we don’t want fuss. The last thing we want is people, strangers, those unqualified to come and try and change things, mess around with things beyond their control. We can't let things get worse. We need to keep this place, and the truth, far away from prying eyes. We need to carry on like he’s only popped out for a few minutes and he’ll be back in no time. We need to act natural. Normal.”
They needed to live on. They needed to go onward, live life as they intended to, be the people they were. To continue on and play the roles Eleven knew them to have. To keep peace, and protect light, and bring joy to those around them. They needed to protect those incapable of protecting themselves, and they needed to hold each other close and be a united front, and Sylvando looked up at Hendrik again - who held his breath for a moment before stepping closer to be at Sylvando’s side fully, tension draining from his shoulders even as that sad, lost look remained. It was time to follow in the footsteps of his ancestor and live a normal human life after The Luminary had been and gone. To build, and repair, and fix, and continue. The physical wounds of Mordegon may have healed well over the last few days, but inside,... they all had to pretend that all was well. It was. All was well. No one would ever know any different. They had to go forth now as if nothing had changed, and they were all the same people they were this morning, that this was the happiest outcome and everything went right.
“I think we should have a party.” Sylvando repeated, voice flat, firm and unquestionable. Joyless, and real, and unwavering. This time, the others all looked to her, and then nodded.