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Chapter Text

There were only three of them around when it happened.

The child had just visited the Elder after all. The twenty of them he’d carried across the fields, stopping to chitter and play with them whenever they appeared before him, they’d all been dropped off in exchange for more speed, more resilience. There was no malice behind this abandonment, of course. He waved them off with that eager and chipper laugh, returned them as a favor because their Elder had asked him to round them all up.

No one could be mad at that little smile, despite not being used to anatomy like his. It was endearing. Childlike. Innocent.

Fragile .

So of course they could only watch in abject horror as that intruder upon their systems drove their once proudest weapon, one of their mightiest titans, against him, so small, so small and he fought back. He tried , but they knew their Titans had been crafted for greater threats, so there was no relief of him escaping: Just sinking dread and helplessness as he was cast across the land like a mere pebble, pillars cracking and collapsing upon his collision with them, strength enough in his flight to wedge a crater in the mountain side.

His distance to them was what gave them enough room to digitalize, as they’d been doing, to aid him in transporting them, and re-materialize at his side, anguish consuming them as they stared at his battered form.

He laid limp and in shambles, rubble clinging to the sheen layer of strands that covered his entire form, which they’d come to understand was fur, his entire frame trembling as he drew shallow breaths. His precious face was pulled into a grimace, an expression that struck much harder than it should have. He’d landed in a weird position that did nothing to ease their worries, laying over one of his arms, one of his legs spread out behind him, the other curled up closer to him, and his left arm-

His left arm bent at an angle impossible for joints like his to support.

Panic morphed into horror morphed into worry morphed into helplessness as they all quickly realized there was nothing they could do. Their small charm bodies simply weren’t strong enough to move him. They lacked hands to assist him, and even if they had been able to carry his lithe frame, there would have been nothing for them to help him with. Their civilization long laid in ruins. Their medical beys–which wouldn’t have been optimized for a creature of his kind anyways–were long laid to waste. Supplies must have long expired and rotted. They had nothing to help him with.

So all they could do was sit by and keep watch. Keep watch as Giganto retreated in the distance, crossing the land in a handful of meager steps, as day rolled into night and night into day which faded to dusk and then brightened to dawn. The boy didn’t stir. At most he shifted in his sleep, but all that resulted in was shifting of his broken arm, which strangled pitiful whines from him.

But eventually, as their third day of standing watch doing naught and feeling helpless came to a stop, the boy twitched, and all at once sprang up, eyes wide, breathing hitching to a panic.

Immediately they were calling for him. Don’t move so much, they wanted to scream, but their chirps and chimes were a language unknown to him, just like his language was well beyond them. They could only watch as he scrambled to his feet and almost toppled over when his broken arm wrenched a cry from him, half glancing at his injury before frantically scanning his surroundings. Assessing for any possible dangers, they realized with a start. Not that there was any. He’d been given the grace of landing on one of the foreign platforms left behind by that odd, bald creature. It had had enough mind at the very least to protect its constructions against most dangers of the island.

But the boy didn’t know that, and as such paced the perimeter of the platform they were on frantically, his steps faltering and trembling every time his arm shifted, but adrenaline apparently hindering his nerves enough that he powered through it. They all jumped after him, frantically, but their little hops were nothing to his hurried steps, and they only caught up once he stopped in the middle of the platform, sinking to his knees as his body shook, stifling another cry when the action jostled his arm.

They all clammored around him. They were mindful of his broken arm, nuzzling up against his legs, letting him run his good hand over their heads in an affectionate manner, providing comfort as the only support they were capable of giving. 

He had to get back to his species. His friend trapped in Cyber Space was intangible to him. She’d be the only one with the knowledge–and the right appendages–to provide him with the medical attention he needed if he wanted his injury to heal properly, but she couldn’t do anything right now. The question remained how he’d get back to civilization, if he was marooned on this island, and they hadn’t found any evidence of how he’d arrived here save for seeing him be launched out of one of the Cyber Space Portals.

He sighed. His good hand left their heads and reached in between the clumps of sharp needles that grew on the back of his head, and they watched perplexed as he pulled out two familiar gems, dazzling blue and dashing red. He released them above their heads, watched them hover tentatively, and before they could properly wonder what he planned to do with them-

“ Heal, please .” He begged in his foreign tone, and it took them a second to realize he was speaking to the Chaos Emeralds, which chimed mystically along with his words. His voice trembled. “ Heal .”

They didn’t know what he was asking. They didn’t know what he expected the emeralds to do. They were wonderful power sources, yes, but their energies had long proven to be chaotic and unpredictable, corruptive to manipulate without the aid of machinery. But- But this time they just glowed brighter, and the Koco watched, mystified, as they spun in place before floating their way around him, cutting through the air smooth like clouds, their glow increasing and increasing, reaching a crescendo as they rose to spin above his head, shedding soft green sparkles down on him.

His green eyes gazed up at them, as captivated by their beauty as they were, before he gasped lowly, and gave a jerky nod, his good hand drifting towards his bad arm, grabbing the part below the break firmly.

He snapped his arm back. Their eyes widened. He screamed .

When his eyes opened again they were marred by tears, and he was heaving in breaths as if the gas that sustained him in the atmosphere wasn’t enough. The Chaos Emeralds responded in turn by flashing a blinding shade, turning their surroundings white for a moment, before floating down akin to feathers, clinking on the ground gently. The boy watched them for a second, before returning his attention to his arm, gingerly bending it, flinching as if expecting pain. After a few seconds, he relaxed, bent his arm a few more times, as if testing its functionality, raising it, spinning it in a circle, and after eventually finding its functions satisfactory, using it to scoop up the Chaos Emeralds from the ground.

He stored them in his quills and climbed to his feet, dusting himself off and casting a glance at his surroundings, taking them in as if seeing them for the first time, despite having scanned the perimeter previously. 

“ Okay, I’m not taking that thing down the traditional way. ” His tone was airy, quiet, his message well beyond them. He didn’t even seem to be talking to them, anyways. “ I’m going to need the Chaos Emeralds, and maybe a little bit of luck. ”

Eventually, he seemed to find something worth his interest, because he took down the metal pathway on which they stood, no other words spoken.

That was the first.

Chapter Text

There were twenty of them when it happened.

The child had been going and going for days by then. On Ares Island. On the harsh desert that they had been quick to label unfit for civilization and had reserved only as the military strength of the four islands they’d come to find themselves stranded in. It had only been cleared for living once all of the life supports and temperature regulators and atmosphere enhancers had been reported functional and running. 

And that was because the temperature across Ares island fluctuated in such an uncanny manner, rivaled only by the vastness of space and its blazing stars. When the sun shone it could get hot enough to overheat their engines–a problem they had believed conquered for centuries–without them needing to even be on. When the single moon of this planet rose into the sky, the temperature dropped so quickly that if their water reservoir wasn’t constantly stirred it would freeze up in an hour. It was a temperature whiplash that they weren’t evolutionarily equipped to withstand. Somehow they doubted it had mellowed out.

And they doubted this boy was equipped to withstand it either.

But he continued on regardless, powering through the day and night in what seemed to be a perpetual run. He didn’t stop save for a few seconds, always on his feet, always on the lookout for the Tokens of shed Chaos that were slowly animating his friend back to life. What little playful moments he’d use to humor them with, where he’d stop to watch them roll around in the grass, bounce up to him, where he’d toss them in the air and twirl them around and laugh along with them, universal language laughter was–they were gone now. He still chuckled when they materialized around him, dancing in place, chiming and chirping, clad in their cacti hats and adorned in dried grasses, but his endeavors seemed to be wearing his stamina thin. He didn’t do much more than that. He’d watch them with almost envy before fixing his gaze on some other spot of the island and blasting off, cutting through the arid sands with as much disregard for their fine grains as he held for himself.

Where he’d elegantly cut through the environment before, twirling through the air with the grace of only their best machines, now he was starting to grow desperate, having taken to testing which walls he could run up on with enough momentum. This meant he wound up on the ground more times than they believed healthy, but he was always back on his feet faster than they could appear.

Always. Never stopping. Never slowing.

Until temperatures soared. Following a record low night, which saw some of the rocks powdered in snow, and the more still bodies of water forming frost along their surface, the morning opened with a pounding heatwave and a tangible rise in the temperature. By the time midday had arrived one could see the water from the oases evaporating in the afternoon sun, and anything more than three steps ahead was tinged wavy and undulating by the sheer strength of the heat.

The boy had tried to power it on, tried to bruteforce his way across the desert with the same stubborn efficiency which had carried him the last few days, but they could see that eventually even he seemed to realize it was too hot to function and getting hotter. He paused briefly in his sprint, in the middle of a vast flat of ever-stretching sands, and they watched him tentatively mark the nearest oasis in his map, his steps shaking in a worrying way as he broke into a frantic sprint, cutting across the land once more.

Except that the next time they managed to materialize before him, he hadn’t managed the trek to the oasis, and was rather leaning against a pillar that must have once upheld an arc of which adorned their pathways, trying to desperately bask in its shadow.

They chimed at him in desperate concern. His eyes snapped to them, that green which had been so common with their species unfocused in a way that was painful, and bracing himself against the pillar, he weakly beconned them forth with his hand, his entire frame swaying before he readjusted his stance.

They obliged as quickly as they could, rolling and bouncing to crowd at his feet, concern coloring their tone as he all but collapsed to the ground, only barely managing to catch himself against the pillar, resting his back slowly on it, gasping like the fish from this world out of water. He blinked his eyes weakly, as if something had gotten caught in them, and went to rub them, immediately recoiling when his gloves tracked sand all over his face. He coughed, blinked down at all of them, and wiped at his forehead, his ears pinned against his skull as he leaned his head back against the pillar.

Next thing they knew, he tipped to the side, and they all chimed in alarm, scrambling to catch him but being too slow, the boy crumpling limply to the burning sand, thoroughly spent. 

Unconscious.

Panic was quickly fazed out by the more level minded of them. They were all small. But at the moment, they were many. The oasis wasn’t far from here, and they knew. If they pulled together, they could get the boy to the Hermit, who could alert the Elder, who might have been observant enough to know a thing about how to nurse the child back to health.

It stood as just a simple fact that they’d all grown attached. Of the boy, who was the first complex being to step on their island since practically the dawn of time without a mean intention in his being. Of the boy, who laughed and twirled and cheered and cut through the fields like the action of running in and of itself was enough to bring him life. Who had brought life, encased in a golden glow, sprouting new vegetation and regenerating the land when he’d briefly touched down to speak with Amy, as was her denomination, leftover energy sprouting a few bushes and leaves where he’d landed upon Ares. Of this boy, who smiled at everyone and everything, even the intruder, but that despite being worried for the well-being of all those around him, had proven consistent in disregarding himself as he fell into pace back at Kronos. Now Ares.

So they pulled together, with effort to repay him that they felt he’d well-past earned, and hefted him up amongst themselves, carrying him across the remaining stretch of sand as the sun glared high above their heads. What would have been a minute sprint for him, at most, was well a thirty-minute endeavor for them, but they didn’t dare let their pace falter, not until they safely deposited him beneath the shade of a palm tree, on grass sprouting amidst soil, the Hermit asleep on the other side of the bank.

Thirty minutes already. Much too long in their minds. If he’d been injured badly, that could have been the difference between life and death. It could be right now, and half of them split off to walk around the meager pond and wake the Hermit, and they would have gotten there, had the boy not jerked awake with a gasp and startled them so much a handful of them even rolled into the water.

Happy chirps at him filled the air, but before they could move to do much of anything else the boy scanned his surroundings frantically, and the moment his eyes spotted the water a primal hunger seemed to overtake all sentient thought, and he lunged forwards, all but plunging his face into the clear pond.

They all startled. Chirps descended into alarm as they coalesced around him, but he didn’t acknowledge them, lapping up the water like a starved beggar would inhale food. It had never struck them that maybe he’d needed water. They’d brought him here because the temperature around the oases tended to be more bearable. But they had had knowledge of species that needed water to function properly, at weekly, practically daily intervals. Their species, being fundamentally made of the stuff, hadn’t suffered from such plight, but they’d never quite considered that his species might.

-

He was good ways into drinking up half the pond when he suddenly reeled back. He gasped for breath, and they all chimed their concern up at him, at the way his eyes unfocused and grew cloudy, nuzzled up to him to try and be a grounding presence, because if his species’ social and physical cues even slightly resembled theirs, then he couldn’t have been feeling all that well. He seemed to take in their comfort, looking around in mild confusion, before suddenly he let out a strangled noise, pupils shrinking to pinpricks as he knocked a handful of them aside, the violent motion startling them so much they almost weren’t ready for when kneeled over and puked on the sand where they had just been, gasping for breath when nothing but water finished making its way out his body before another tremor shook him, and they found themselves helpless to watch as he vomited all over again.

There was horror. They didn’t know what to do. He was sick, that much they knew. But again, his species was so drastically different. How sick? How severe? How urgent was this, how worried should they be? They were helpless either way, but at least if they knew the severity of the situation they might have been able to decide how urgent it was searching for help compared to keeping an eye on him, and-

The boy sobbed.

They all looked up, a pang of guilt running through them as the boy’s arms shook, and he crumpled to the side, a whine cutting the air as tears ran down his face, as he curled up into himself, a tight little ball that was just barely the same size as the biggest of them, and buried his face in his knees, shaking as the afternoon heat began to edge into the night freeze. The sand beside him was damp with water and a concoction of red and blue that they knew instinctively had to be from the leftover seeds of their harvests. Aside from that, yellow-green bile that had to have been some sort of acid made the whole thing disgusting to look at, and they all quickly determined that they couldn’t just leave the boy there, lying on the ground, not when the Hermit was just a pond bank away and might have a better place for the boy to take refuge.

-

So they all coalesced again, and moved to lift the boy up, because he barely seemed to be in any sort of condition to walk, when he startled, and flinched away, pitching backwards so that his hands splashed into the pond.

His eyes were wide. He regarded them all with terrified confusion, the fear painful on his face, and upon edging backwards and finding his tail dipping into the pond, he flinched away from it, scrambling to his feet, holding himself tense and shaky, hands clutched to his chest, as if afraid that they’d all pounce on him at a moments notice.

Their concerned chimes seemed to snap him out of whatever emotional paralysis had ceased him, because he shook his head, eyes wide. “ Sorry .”

He was stumbling out from amidst their numbers immediately, his eyes wide as he looked around. The sky was starting to be tinged with the reds of sunset, and he only stopped walking once he’d found a tree to brace himself against, staring at them all. But not really. His eyes seemed to phase right through them, thoughtful and lost in another place entirely.

They exchanged glances. A few of them braved a few steps forwards, to see if they could get him to settle down and wait the night out, in some semblance of rest, or at the very least get him to the Hermit, who most definitely would convince him, but the boy spoke first.

“ I should get your guys to your Elder .”

And before they could do anything else he blasted off across the sand again, his wind taking them with him.

That was the second.

Chapter Text

There were seven of them when it happened.

He was starting to stutter. They noticed. How couldn’t they? Back in Kronos, movement had melded into breaks in smooth, controlled ways that made it obvious he was willingly slowing down. Back on Ares it was non-stop movement, a mad-dash to stay in motion, an impatience for roadblocks that led either into ramming them into oblivion or finding ways to toss himself well above their confines.

Now on Chaos?

Now on Chaos he was stuttering. He’d dash through a whole structure, gather tokens and rings and seeds in his arms, and then he grind to a sudden halt, hand clutching at his shoulder, at his arm, at his side, gasping for breath through the ash and sparks that populated Chaos’ atmosphere, and examine the land once and twice over, as if breaking into a run at all left him disoriented and screwed his sense of direction well beyond recognition. He was checking the map more often. He made a bigger effort to max his ring count, for the boost in speed it provided. Whenever he could get his feet off the ground and into the air he did , and when he climbed the mountain tipped in ice and snow he made a point of wadding on the slippery surface, made a point of sinking his feet into the fresh layer of white coloring its tip after every night.

He didn’t pay much attention to them anymore. Or to anything really. Where before had been an effort to put flourish and style into his battles, now he barely seemed to register his attackers. The more advanced guardians of theirs, designed to head the protection of a specific area, all fell to him with little thought behind his actions, other than them having attacked first in his general direction, speeding through the fights almost desperately. He didn’t talk with the Elder or the Hermit at all basically. He saw the Hermit once , when the seeds were seemingly getting much too heavy to carry around, and then didn’t seek him out further. The Elder he only talked to, just a few hours ago, because he’d run into him when a spring launched him in the general direction. He dropped them off. He’d even seemed surprised that he’d gathered up so many of them. Because he’d stopped looking for them.

They couldn’t bring themselves to be hurt at what that would imply.

Not when the corruption of cyber energy was eating at the boy. File entered into the system and then retracted before it processed, intake of energy into a vessel not designed, much less optimized to contain it. Dwelling of chaos energy in a body much too small, that couldn’t possibly have much more space for all the energy he was intaking, all that was released whenever his friends broke free, whenever he tore through the veil of dimensions to hop across them. On the whims of a voice they couldn’t hear. No one could hear. Only him. They were worried. They’d gotten attached, and they had their suspicions of what this voice was. What it wanted. What it was asking. Of the boy. Of their little hope.

So they followed. Stubbornly clung to him and tried to get him to slow, just for a little. Not to get his bearings, but for himself. Because they hated seeing him hobble. Hated seeing him stop to clutch at his stomach, stop to gasp for air, stop to dry-barf over the edges of platforms, stop to stabilize himself when he seemed to grow dizzy. They needed him to stop and rest. Chaos Island arguably wasn’t the best place for that, but there were rooms in many of the hangars that had been designed for the workers to take a break. With his collaboration they could easily open one of those, could easily get him out of the sulfur-choked air that seemed to make breathing harder on his little lungs.

But he didn’t slow. Not even to appreciate the shower of stars that marked a surge of energy used in their systems to reset and repair damage done amidst the intermissions. He just plowed on through, through rebirthed enemies, sights set on some arbitrary goal that they had yet to understand, perhaps a command from the voice haunting him, perhaps of his own accord, to help his friend.

And as automatic as he was currently working, barely stopping long enough for them to materialize, they all jolted to realization when it clicked that suddenly he wasn’t moving.

And then a shrill scream cut through the night sky, and all of them who could, who were currently in his digital trail, materialized around him in a flash of green, horror gripping their being.

Lava rolled down the mountain trail that seemed to have been marked for a few decades now, a gentle sigh of a volcano that had long blown its top. They all de-digitized much too close to the edge, all tethered on the verge of falling and panicked, flopping and hoping their way to safety, eyes looking around frantically for the boy, who had somehow for once found himself in a place beyond their watchful conscience. 

He was on the ground not far away.

His feet were smoking.

They all panicked. They bounded their way over to him, as fast as they could, but that moment of just laying there motionless had only been a scant second. He was already moving. Panicking. Horror in his eyes, hands shaking as he wrestled with the smoldering remains of the white cloth that had protected his feet, beneath the red garments that he’d already cast aside. Those remained undamaged. How could they be fine whilst he was hurt? 

He wasn’t making any more noise now. That original scream seemed to be all that he could muster, as they all crowded around him. His breaths were much too quick and shallow. His entire body shook, unstable, and he flinched hard when his hands brushed against his feet, finally managing to pry the charcoaled wool off himself and tossing it to the side, wiping the garments adorning his hands on the scorched ground as if afraid they’d caught fire in the process. Lava was already cooling in a trail leading from him to the flow not that far away, still radiating heat into the air. Tears sprouted in his eyes as he watched, and they all knew none of them wanted to look at the red and black marred mess that had become of his limbs.

They had to find his friend. He was hurt. They couldn’t help. His friend could, maybe. This was the worst so far. He was so hurt . This couldn’t wait. There was blood. He could be in pain. Their little hope was hurt. They couldn’t help. They had to. Who was closest? Someone, track down his friend! His hands were shaking. They nuzzled up to him but couldn’t do much else. He looked too pale. The little boy was hurt. This was bad. Creatures like him- They didn’t regrow limbs, right? He had to seek help. But for that he had to walk. He couldn’t walk. Not like this. Their little hope-

He pulled out the Chaos Emeralds.

They all grew quiet. Relief wanted to rear in already, from the miracles they had already witnessed the boy perform with the Emeralds in hand, but a pit of dread had settled, the taunt expression on the boy’s face, the tears in his eyes, the pain in gaze, none of it helped to sooth them. To convince them. His hands quivered. The Emeralds flashed. They all cooed and called for him, but he paid them no mind. No attention. He released the Emeralds, and even they seemed to shudder at his state.

“ P-please .” His voice was hoarse. Laced with pain. His entire frame trembled, he tried shifting but the movement elicited a whine from him and a flinch. They all pressed closer.

The Emeralds complied. They glowed bright. Unlike last time, they did not twirl and spin. He watched them with ever-dimmer eyes. He sobbed. They all cooed at him and tried their very best to hold him. They couldn’t. They couldn’t hold their little hope. The glow crescendoed, bathing them all in a pleasant cool that chased away the oppressive heat of the volcano but that left the little boy shivering.

Then the glow stuttered. Flickered. They looked up in time to see the Emeralds drop limp to the ground, threatening to roll down the hill and into the current of lava. They jolted. The boy yelped, and threw himself forwards faster than they could move, tackling the Emeralds and rolling to a stop on rough rock, his entire form quaking, curled around the jewels as if protecting his own heart.

They all stumbled to a stop. They chimed in worry. He only replied with a little whimper, buried his face in his arms, pressed together into a tight little ball of quills. They could see his little feet, though. They could see his little paws.

They-

They could see the Emeralds hadn’t healed them at all . 

The blood was gone. The burned and charred was gone. Maybe. They still looked much too red, much too raw. What they assumed had to have been soft pads were scarred and looked rough and unnaturally shiny even from here. Fur was blackened and shriveled, no doubt from the– tumble? He must have taken into the lava. It struggled to grow amidst a myriad of scars anyways, and the tissue on the bottom of his feet looked raw and painful and in the dim lighting they couldn’t tell if there was any blood present.

They all pressed closer. Called out chimes of concern, knew they had to get him help, that wasn’t normal, their little hope-

He just uncurled. Jarringly fast. The Emeralds were tucked away back in between his quills faster than they could follow, and he pulled out instead a roll of what looked like tape of sorts. Bandages. Some sort of dressing for wounds, if the way he proceeded to wrap up his feet was any indication. But they doubted it could be that simple. Wounds, especially in creatures of flesh and carbon, needed a special kind of tending to. Just wrapping them up- From their knowledge, that couldn’t ever be enough.

He seemed to judge it so, however, because once he’d done what was very clearly a half-attempted job at dressing his wounds he pulled out a spare pair of the cloth dressing, pulling it over his wounds, obstructing them from view, as if they had never been there.

With all that done, he sat there, idle. They all bounded over to him, but this time he didn’t even react to their calls. His eyes still looked cloudy with pain. His breathing sounded much too shallow. But his gaze was far away. He felt around pointlessly, as if looking for something, slowly slumping, a sob breaking the silence and then nothing following after, and they watched as silent tears slowly began their way down his face, his expression empty, the sight so jarring that they all fell quiet on a whim.

He looked so broken. Empty. Done. Their little hope looked absolutely worn down. And they didn’t blame him. He was all alone, in these islands. With the voice of an enemy he didn’t know of buzzing in his ears. With his friends wielded as leverage against him to have him carry out its whims. With no civilization. Just him. And the ruins of the dead. 

This couldn’t be good for his mind.

Before they could further worry, before they could further panic, he seemed to realize they were there. His chuckle was empty as his eyes trailed over their faces, and they chimed in concern up at him. He just smiled, a sad empty little thing.

“ Can you …” His voice stuttered. There was tremble in it, and they chirped at him to continue despite being unsure if they’d understand. He couldn’t seem to find his voice. Instead, he gestured at the ruby and gold garments that he’d discarded not far away, beckoning as if begging them to move closer.

Oh. That they could comply. Always. For their little hope they’d do anything . So they practically tumbled head over heels to retrieve the accessories for him, arranging themselves in a little line and passing them over the top of their heads in what was the most efficient manner they could muster. He took them from their hovering hold almost too gently. His hands trembled. They watched as he beheld the items for what seemed like much too long, only the bubble of lava and crackle of fire in the background, before he eventually slipped them on without much fanfare.

Maybe they were like his charm. Like they had their Koco, he had- The ruby and gold charms. Maybe they had a name. They certainly had value.

He picked himself up. The empty wasn’t gone. They chimed for their little hope. A hangar was right there. Stop, please. Get some rest. You shouldn’t be on your feet. We don’t want you hurting anymore.

Please. Hope .

Hope didn’t heed them. He checked his map, marked something of value only known to him, and took off in the direction of the orange beam, cutting across the clogged and ashy night sky.

That was the third.

Chapter Text

There was… no one when it happened.

It shouldn’t have happened.

Shouldn’t have happened because the Rhea sector had long been vacated. They didn’t tread there often, because it had been such a cultural hub, home to so many of them, with the most bustling of their settlements now buried beneath the water. They didn’t tread there often because it was almost haunted, and they feared that touching the blades of grass would create a tremor that would push pebbles and specks of dirt and travel down down down to the towers buried beneath, and trigger some mechanism, seal their fates by complete accident and small chance. 

But that didn’t really matter any more.

Because scrapping and mighty as they were, the towers now pierced the heavens.

The rain hadn’t stopped coming. It was as if the sharp tips of the towers had popped the clouds and released a mighty waterfall upon them, sheets upon sheets of crystalline water falling onto the island, clearing for only an hour at time, sometimes to cloudy skies, sometimes to starry nights. Aside from the towers and their silent turning, and their eerie violet-red light, the color of all things wrong, nothing changed, the land still as if a mere moving picture. Night passed into day and the planet made to complete its precarious turn on itself, and days went by that the serene silence stayed, but it really wasn’t serene, because they could feel the presence above them as it were breathing down on them mere centimeters away, and really, it was stillness, because suddenly, midway through day one–

A tower shut off.

It was a spike of panic that hit them all hard. Across the islands, across the land, the ones who noticed it raised the alarm, because the tower stopped spinning, and now the tower’s stopped glowing, and what’s that little speck? Above the clouds, falling down down down…

Hope.

It was Hope. It was Hope turned on them, aiding the enemy and freeing it from its shackles! But Hope didn’t know that, and they knew because they’d been with Hope every step of the way, and they’d seen the way the thing would use Hope for its own selfish needs, and it wasn’t Hope turned on them. It was Hope used against them, his hand forced, backed into a corner and now playing a part in a disaster he’d no doubt never want part of.

It was their Hope, turned into the enemy’s hope.

So they scrambled to reach him. To find him, search for him, but under whatever commands he had on behalf of the End, he was elusive. A day went by, and there was not a sign of him anywhere. Not a single peep, not a sign on the land they could barely cover when suddenly, in the midst of a cold, freezing break from the downpour–

Another tower down.

Panic. Search.

Silence. Still.

Another day and a half.

And then another tower fell.

And there was no sign of Hope. Nowhere! They knew it was Hope doing it. Hope was the only one in the islands who could do so, after all. The only one with the resilience and the tangibility to even try to unlock the towers, but the question was how . How , because the towers had been constructed to seal the enemy and keep it like that. By all means, it would have taken their leader’s clearance with all of his appointees and a few select people’s collaboration to take down one tower, and then another whole group of other people for the next, and the next, and the next and next. It would have taken more than their little Hope, their hurt little Hope, who had access to their systems by whim of their captive, who didn’t even speak their language but somehow figured out their puzzles and ruins.

Maybe that somehow was how.

But did it matter? Not really. Because with every tower down, the time between that and the next grew larger. With every tower down, that longer time didn’t matter, because their enemy was just one step closer to breaking free from its prison. With every tower down, they all felt the release of cyber energy into the world, but didn’t see it redirected into other systems, so they knew where it was going. Going into a body too small to support it, going into a body already brimming with energy and with no space for more.

Going into their Hope to kill .

And he was still nowhere to be found.

It was raining again. And it was windy, the gales howling like screaming their death. Rhea had been their most beautiful island, but there was nothing beautiful about the tension that poured from it like the crystal waters that populated its midst. Nothing beautiful about anxiously watching the glow remaining on the last three towers, not sure if they dreaded their final shutdown more than they dreaded them never changing at all, because that would mean that Hope was–

There.

There . Right there. They would have missed him had his landing not sent mud and water flying in the air, in the storm, had it not been the biggest disturbance they’d seen in days . It wasn’t that far away from the tower, but still it was unbelievably far, so that they couldn’t recon how far up he’d have to have been to have fallen such a distance.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how many of them there were. How far away they were. They turned and made a maddash for him, rolling their way across the slick and muddy hills, chirping desperately to get his attention, calling out: Hope, Hope, listen to us please! You have to stop!

He got up. He got up but there was a deep tremble in his movements visible even through the sheets of rain. He was shaking , his eyes bloodshot, his fur matted down with water and clogged with sticks and dirt and mud and rocks. His quills, threatening things capable of shredding metal like it was paper, laid limp, hanging about him like curtains. The wind roared around him, and he shivered and went to get up, but his arms slipped from beneath him, and they all squeaked in alarm as he wound up face down on the ground again. They yearned for him, called as loud as he could, but there was no reaction, no reaction aside from forcing himself back up, despite the way his arms looked ready to snap in two beneath his weight, and then forcing himself onto his knees, his whole frame shaky, his body covered in streaks of red and surrounded by a perpetual cloud of violet-blood.

They called for him. As loud as they could. His ear twitched. Hazy emeralds turned their way.

He heard .

His eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet and swayed dangerously, and it really wasn’t to his feet because his posture dropped, his hands reaching out in anticipation as if forever expecting himself to drop dead at any given moment. But his eyes were trained on them, ears locked solely on meet them, and he took one step, two, and broke out into a dash and–

Collided with a wall blood red, still meters away from them.

The effect was instant. Cyan-red-black shot up his body as he threw his head back and let out a cry, body spasming as his limbs went limp and betrayed him to the soggy ground. He grabbed at the grass, pulled at it as if he could pull himself out of the agony, curled up into a ball and screamed as if he was being pierced in the chest.

They scrambled to reach him. They were slow. The ground was slick. Their rolls bought almost no traction uphill, but still they fought like this was the last fight they’d ever fight because what if it was? What if by leaving him to the End’s whims, they sealed their faiths? Hope was, for however worn down, still a mighty force. He wielded the Emeralds like an extension of himself, took down their Titans like sunflowers plucked from a field. He was formidable. He was, in the wrong hands, under something’s control, a weapon , and he was also their last shield.

He couldn’t be both.

And he stopped spasming. Went so very still. They cried for him, fearing the worst, but then the slightest twitch. The slightest shift in position of a muscle, the smallest test of its functionality, and then, as if jolted by live wire, Hope sprung awake all at once, on his feet before they’d even realized he was aware .

His eyes snapped to the sky. They didn’t look green in the dim light, didn’t look right, pupils much too wide, thoughts all too vacant. His ears swiveled and focused on what seemed like an arbitrary spot, and their eyes followed, unsure what about that cloud was so–

“You stray from the path.”

The voice. They all shuddered back, recoiled as if burned because they might as well have been, eyes blown wide, horrified. The voice, and they could hear it , and its tone was venomous, accusing, all its attention transfixed on Hope as if trying to sear him into place.

“Turn back.” It berated. Its tone dropped to gentle coo, but Hope reeled back as if struck. “Complete your mission.”

No! They cried. They cried to Hope and he turned to look, his brow pinched, his expression unclear amidst the rain and winds. Don’t go! Don’t trust it! It’s–

“Who–” He managed.

They froze.

Because they understood .

“Who’re… Who’re you?”

And they immediately wished they didn’t .

“No, I–” His voice gets caught in his throat. His hands twitch at his side, and he takes a step back, sliding on the ground and winding up in the mud. He looks confused, terrified , of them , and he shakes his head. “It said– What am I–”

His eyes turned skywards. They landed on the tower nearby, still thrumming with blood-violet energy.

“Mission.” He whispered. Carried to them by the wind. “Complete the mission.”

They cried. NO, don’t–

But he was gone. Taken as if by the gales, swept off the ground and carried up the tower ebony and ruby and amethyst. They hoped he’d come back, he’d slip and fall and they could chase him down.

He never did.

That was the fourth.

Chapter Text

They were there when it happened.

There was a relief of having their Hope returned to them that they didn’t believe they could match. They thought the towers would be the last that they’d see of him, that he’d slipped from their grasp and now they’d never see his little smiles, hear his bright laugh again. They’d thought that was it.

But then the Intruder restored him, and brought him back, and their joy knew no bounds.

Except that he was brought back to face The End.

He was brought back at the cost of his friends, on the whims of the Intruder, under the watch of the bald creature, all to stop the End, because even they knew only Hope could do it. It had been released already– the world was at peril. There was no time to plan some large scale attack. The most they had was days . The most they could do, what Hope was trying to do , was gather the Emeralds again and pray that his golden shine would be enough to chase away the darkness of the end of days. But they knew what had become of the last people who dared fight The End, who succeeded by a stroke of luck and sacrificial act. Even without a proper way to calculate it, they knew the chances of succeeding without some sort of steep cost were…

Looking at Hope was like looking at a dead person alive .

Perhaps he’d figured that out already. Perhaps that was why he no longer tore through the land in reckless abandon. He trekked his path carefully, combed his surroundings attentively, collected them all as many as he could and chose to let them travel with him. Stopped to play for only minutes at a time when they appeared before him, his actions a special kind of attentive that was almost desperate. He smiled at them with a sad little edge, smiled at them like he was trying to commit their faces to memory despite them not really having facial features for that. He stopped at the top of monuments, at the edge of the island, and beheld the bright expanse of thriving green and pristine ocean before him as if somehow he could see the whole world contained in it.

“I love this planet.” He’d tell them in soft whispers, and they still understood, when they appeared behind him quietly. Would tell them in soft whispers when he picked them up so they could see further, so he could share what he saw with them. “I love it so much.”

And so he didn’t stop. There was not a moment he stopped to sleep, not a moment he wasn’t doing something, even if it was only contemplating the world which he so much coveted. He didn’t stop even in the rain, in fact made a point of standing there, shivering and dripping wet, his eyes closed, head tossed back, mouth open to catch a few drops, or holding his hands out to watch his worn gloves progressively grow damp.

“I want to enjoy it.” He explained to them, perhaps to convince himself. “I want to enjoy the islands. I haven’t been enjoying them. I think that’s a bit rude.”

I want to enjoy it . They imagined he meant. I want to enjoy the world one last time because there may not be another chance for me.

So they didn’t stop him. Didn’t interfere. Let him run through the trees feeling their trunks, let him run his gloves through the grass, let him tentatively stand in the middle of a pond, shivering as if in fear but with a saddened little smile on his face. Let him run constantly night and day, never stopping to eat, never stopping to sleep, his eyes always on the world before him, his mind in the moment, never the future, never the past.

But, well, Ouranous was the rainiest of islands. And the storm on Rhea must have blown over, leaving fragments of rain showering the land for bits at a time. They boy was perhaps bothered by it, but whenever he stopped beneath shade, he’d look up at the clouds, behold the falling droplets, and as if figuring perhaps it was the last bit of rain he’d ever feel, would take off through the downpour, hands out as if to catch as much of it as he could. In hindsight, perhaps on this they should have stopped him. With his fur saturated in water, and with the chilly atmosphere of Ouranos, they should have known something was bound to happen. They knew that fur was a tool in many species to regulate body temperature. They also knew not all species were as exceptional as theirs had been, in combating the myriad of micro-organisms that damp and moist environments fostered. They also knew that many of the furred creatures living amongst the islands back in the day had been known to fall sick when left in bodies of water for too long.

So they should have expected this.

The last emerald, the only one remaining outside the confines of a structure, was finally collected. Its steady cyan beam vanished from the sky, remaining energy flickering to the ground like sparks shed by stars. Hope contemplated it, movements oddly gentle as he took it in both hands, holding it as if it was a delicate little gift given to him by the sky. His smile had a sad edge to it now, a permanent little quirk they couldn’t hope to get rid off. They just watched quietly from behind him. Watched as he looked up, his emerald eyes crossing the land, crossing the islands, gaze landing on their now abandoned docking station, from which a final, silver beam rose. He didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just stood there, for a really long time, clutching the Emerald to his chest like a lifeline and staring off into the distance, breathing a little ragged and uneven. The way he squeezed at the Emerald betrayed his unease past the serene determination etched permanently on his face, and they felt as if there was nothing they could do.

That was it. Cross the land, through the grass and forest and trees one last time, and get one more Emerald. The last would be on the Titan, no doubt. It was over. Get the Emerald, find the Titan. Beat the Titan, and the End would show.

Hope sighed.

He tucked the Emerald away in his quills. He gave himself one last squeeze, mouth still in that little smile, and turned around slowly, to smile down at them. They smiled up at him, chirped up and laughed and chimed and tried to cheer him just a bit, because they wanted Hope to have something nice before he went. One last nice thing, one last memory to hold on to.

He smiled down at them. Traveled down a few steps and sat down on the last one, let them come close to him and patted their heads. He let them rub against his hands, against his legs, the best comfort they could give, and he chuckled.

“You guys are nice.” He offered, his voice but a wispy tone. He hadn’t spoken much, even back when they hadn’t understood him. They’d come to understand he was quiet, come to know that he only spoke when he found there was something meaningful to say. Now, he spoke to them. “I’m going to get you back to your Elder. When… that thing comes out, keep safe, yeah?”

They chimed in worry at him. He offered a soft smile. “I’ll have it down in no time. You’ll see. Nothing’s beat me yet. This won’t be much different.”

Except that it could be. He knew that. He’d seen the visions, if his sudden change in mannerism was any hint. He knew what the End could do. He knew that it wasn’t a simple hit-and-run. He knew the only reason he was going up there alone was because there was no time to raise an army to aid him. Because he was the only one who stood a chance, and it was just that . A chance. And that chance could be so small, so insignificant, and yet still he charged to his death because if there was just a chance that the world would live…

“Okay.” He finally managed. He turned his gaze skyward, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Let’s do it to it. One last time.”

And with a final smile at them, he nodded, and climbed to his feet.

And immediately swayed and almost tipped over.

The only reason he didn’t crack his head open on the stone stairs was because they all scrambled to stabilize him. They couldn’t catch him , but they rolled under him as best as they could, provided footholds and handholds and somewhere to land as he let out a dizzy little groan, barely managing to catch himself and gingerly lower himself back on the steps. He looked pale, suddenly, his eyes faint, and he clutched at his head, one hand tightly clinging to the steps beneath him.

“Okay.” He managed. He sounded alarmed. “Shouldn’t have sat down. Shouldn’t have sat down.”

They chimed at him in worry. He looked over at them, and the queezines in his face wasn’t hidden at all behind his pitiful attempt at a smile. “I’m fine. Just– Got up too quick. A little dizzy. I’m fine.”

They doubted it. But he repeated it enough under his breath they immediately knew he was trying to convince himself, not them. Convince himself as he went to get up again, his movements delicate in a way that was more for his benefit than because he was trying to be careful, his gait unbalanced as he took a few steps, hands out as if to stabilize himself.

“I’m fine.” He managed. Looked up, took a step towards the silver beam. “I’m fin–”

A cough. He’d been coughing a lot recently, actually. But this cough was a horrible thing that threw him off-balance, and he scrambled to catch himself as they scrambled towards him, landing roughly on his hands and knees as he tried to get back up only to get stopped by another cough, the action racking his body. They chimed in concern at him, but he batted them away, squeezing his eyes through another wet round of coughing that had him clawing at the grass beneath him, gasping for breath desperately amidst the breaks. Coughing, gasping, sounding like he’d finally stopped only to plunge into a whole other round again, his body shaking, his voice strained, clips of cries slipping past, until–

He cried. Coughed out bile. Gasped for breath. His whole body shook. Seconds trickled by.

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t cough again.

“I’m fine.” He insisted again. His voice was raspy and strained, more air than sound. He blinked at the mess below him, and pushed himself away, onto his knees and then sitting down on the ground, away from what had just happened, grasping desperately at the grass as if it would help keep him steady. “I’m f-fine. I just n-need a minute.” He sounded so desperate. His eyes looked glossy. “J-just a minute. I- I’m fine.”

They chimed up in concern at him regardless. Pressed against him and tried to provide comfort as a chilling sort of dread settled in their midst. Because Hope was sick now. He was sick and what could they do about it? Not much. Recovery took time. They didn’t really have time. Not with the End hovering over their heads, a chilling cloud of death, not with the one of the two final Emeralds ripe for the taking.

“... m’fine… fine. ”

Except that it was their Hope.

When had been the last time he’d been genuinely happy, in the time they’d known him? Long ago, certainly, almost an eternity now when considering the duration of his stay, back on Kronos. Back on Kronos when it hadn’t been serious yet, when the cyber corruption must have been less than an uncomfortable buzz under his skin. Back on Kronos when he didn’t know anything, where his biggest concern had been Amy, his friend, and fun had come everywhere he looked for it. That was an eternity ago now. Now, the islands, his trials, had taken their toll, and he was so inconsolably alone, as he marched at a steady pace to his own death, by his own choice and making, that it suddenly struck them that he had only a scant few moments on this planet left to live. Now. They knew he was heading to his death. They’d thought him dead so many times already. But now they knew exactly when he’d seal his fate, knew that it was mere moments away, just him climbing back to his feet, and suddenly they couldn’t stand the thought of just letting him go. Couldn’t stand the thought that his last memories of this planet he loved so much would be of pain and agony, would be of being tossed around and beaten and used, only to wind up sick at the Death’s doorstep, ready to beat it down and take it to Beyond with him.

They couldn’t let that stand.

So they called for the Elder. They called for Hermit. They cried for all those of their midst that care about the boy, and how impossible it would have been to find someone who didn’t care! Because Hope cared, cared for them even though their identities were lost to time, cared for each and every one of them even if caring for one was caring for all. They called because they only had one last chance now, one last day, one last moment they could share. Called as Hope sat there, whispering about one more minute, “one more and I’m fine”, and resolved that one more minute wouldn’t do. Not one nor five nor six nor ten. Hope deserved better, because they had some time, just enough time.

Called. Called so that when Hope got up, when he swayed a bit with his next steps, there was someone there. In a flash of green, and when he stumbled and almost fell it was instead to brace himself against someone, and he looked up weakly and met Elder’s gaze.

There was silence.

Then:

“When did you get here?”

Elder sighed.

Hope stared, and hurried to stand up again. Brushed himself off sheepishly and looked around nervously. “Uh, did you want your Kocos that bad? I was just coming over, y’know…”

But in that second, Hermit appeared not far behind. He was quiet as he beheld the situation, but Hope still noticed, still clutched at his arm uncertainly. 

“Uh.” He blinked. There was a shaky quality to his voice that they hadn’t noticed before. “Did I miss a memo? Am I supposed to be doing something? Do y’all need a favor?”

“You’ve already done so much for us, we’re not here to ask for more.” Elder finally started, after a silent moment of contemplating the child before him. They bounced around him, as Hope stood there, with that little smile that never seemed to falter when in the presence of someone else. It didn’t falter then, but there was something hollow about it that made them all ache.

“Oh, well.” Hope shrugged. Went to dance around Elder, but they all crowded at his feet, keeping him from darting off as best as they could. Not yet, not yet. One minute wouldn’t do. Hope stared at them, looked back up at Elder sheepishly, briefly met Hermit’s gaze. “So… what’s the hold up for? Shouldn’t I get to kicking some godly butt?”

Elder sighed. Sighed at the child before him, so eager to march to his death. Hermit perhaps figured it wasn’t an eagerness for death, but rather a fear that if he didn’t hype himself up, he wouldn’t be able to meet the demands. They just knew that it didn’t matter, because in the end, eager or not, Hope didn’t have much time left. They had to do something.

“There is one last thing we would like to do for you, Hope.”

Hope paused. His eyes widened. He looked not unlike a little child, caught in the middle of doing something wrong. He gave his arm a squeeze, drew in a deep breath, his gaze flicking amidst them all and the gears in his head churning away almost audibly. His eyes flicked to the Elder again, and he opened his mouth, his voice small.

“Who’s Hope?”

The Elder mussed not explaining the name for a second. Just a little fraction of time. Because they had access to their Hope’s files now. After what happened on Rhea, they’d gotten to know him better than they’d ever wanted. Hermit had seen their contents, had noticed their sting. He knew their Hope had had many a name before. Had taken on mantle after mantle and had shed them in a desperate bid to distance himself from his own life. It was not their business to pry. But they knew, knew that his latest mantle, denomination of “Sonic”, had been the one he’d held the longest. He’d made it obvious it was beginning to wear him down. His smile was strained when he’d introduced himself after all.

He deserved to know what denomination was up for the taking, if he so wished it.

“ You are Hope.” 

Hope’s eyes widened. He pursed his mouth, the smile bleeding off his lips for something more sincere, a little confused frown begging for explanation.

So Elder elaborated. “You’ve been our Hope from the moment you set foot on this island, intentions pure, efforts soulful. You’ve brought us joy and a reason to rejoice that we’ve lacked in the eternity that we have remained. We wish to thank you for it.”

Hope shook his head. Gnawed at his lip. “But what about–”

“We know there is– What one could consider more pressing matters at hand.” Elder said, and they all knew it was true. “But I feel that if our enemy truly wished to attack, it would have long done so already. Come. Let us show you our gratitude while we can. If it wishes to let us live, however borrowed our time, then make the most of it we shall.”

Hope stared. Elder took a step forward, and bowed his head a little. Because they all knew their Hope was unstable right now. Sick and dizzy, no doubt nauseous, he should have been at home, resting, but no doubt he’d never even get to get back where he came from. He was stranded on the islands, as much a final resting place for him as it had been for them, and they’d decided already that one minute wouldn’t do. Hope deserved a breather, a moment of respite before charging, gilded gold, to a more permanent kind of rest.

Hope deserved .

So they urged him on. Crowded around him and pushed at his feet, showed him forwards, his steps small hesitant, his movements even more so as he gingerly climbed on top of Elder’s head. He clung onto the stone spires almost desperately, and Elder felt how much of his weight he leaned on him. They saw how he sunk himself against him, how he looked down at them all and then looked away, as if ashamed to even be up there at all.

But one minute wouldn’t do. So they all turned, and headed for the village up the hill.

⬋✬⬊

When The End had claimed their Hope, back on Rhea, they had felt it.

Felt how The End thought it so pitiful that Hope was so easy to manipulate. The End hadn’t cared for its little Key. It had been impressed, perhaps, with how much he could expand his limits on a wish and a prayer, but it had never cared. But they could imagine, imagine The End, laughing to itself, leering down at their little Hope, and thinking it appropriate, a sick joke only it would ever enjoy, to back up their Hope into the systems, as a memorial of its release.

His file being labeled The Key was enough for them to know.

And they knew now. Hermit knew, always diving into cyberspace, of Hope’s miseries. Really, he’d spent many long years already, running on a whim and a mission, fighting off danger after danger. They understood why Hope didn’t ask for help. They understood why Hope never thought about stopping or slowing. In his little head, the mantra must have been “You’ve done this before. You’ve done this before.” Why would he need help knowing he’d never needed it prior?

But this time, the challenge had been too much. He was still a child. Despite any of his insistence otherwise, based on his culture’s definition of childhood and his own age, he was still a child. And yet he’d wagged wars for others before. And yet he held himself as it was his sole responsibility to shoulder the world, as if handing any share of that weight onto others would be a selfish crime he’d never dare to commit.

They couldn’t change that. That stuff had happened already. Those thoughts long had their roots in his head. They couldn’t change that.

But as the rain pattered against the house, and the fire crackled warmly, and they all gathered around the dancing flame, they figured they could give him one more reason to smile. One more memory.

One more hope.

He rested against the Elder. The warmth of the flame had done wonders to melt his resolve against any help. He’d tucked himself close together, his eyes fixed on the light of the embers, and as comfortably as he could, he’d tucked himself against Elder. His eyelids looked droopy, and he played with the cuffs of his glove silently, while Elder made an effort not to move. He hadn’t gone to sleep yet, despite evidently being tired, and that was fine, because they were waiting on Hermit. Hermit, who was preparing a meal for him, because it had to have been well over a week since he’d last eaten, and if this was to be his last meal, then it would have to be the best they could offer.

“You shouldn’t have hope in me.” He mumbled, voice nothing compared to the downpour, compared to the crackle of fire.

“It is based on what we’ve observed.” Elder reassured, but all the boy did was tuck himself closer, blink as if trying to chase off the sleep.

“I haven’t done no nothin’.”

And they could have argued. They could have argued the world over because even before meeting him, their Hope had been working wonders for this planet he loved so much. Had been working wonders and still he refused to believe himself responsible, capable, still he looked at his achievements and carried them with guilt as if they were crimes to be ashamed of. They could have argued. But Hope had wielded this mentality for a long time now, and it was not something they could hope to undo in one night, his last night.

It stung. Knowing he’d die thinking himself useless.

And they couldn’t do anything. Wordless protest, all sound no meaning, was their best bet, because then there was nothing to argue against. He didn’t even try, looking up at them briefly offering a little smile before going back to toying with his gloves. He was tired, and he was still jumpy, his feet twitching, shifting every so often, as if just waiting for an opening. Just waiting to bolt, to disappear into the night. They couldn’t let him.

One minute wouldn’t do.

By the time Hermit got back, Hope had sat up. His eyes were downcast, his smile was strained and yet perpetually there. He kept asking if he could leave. The creaking of trees outside beneath the wind, the occasional thunder rolling over the plains had him asking if he could leave. He should leave, he’d say. The End needed beating, after all. But with what they knew of The End, it wouldn’t show until it wanted to. Perhaps, sensing Hope aware and trying to gather enough for some resistance, it was just biding its time to snuff out their Hope, one last act to sow despair before extinguishing the world and moving onto planets beyond. Perhaps that's why it hadn’t shown. Why they could almost feel it wouldn’t show, until their Hope either gave up or gave himself up.

But that didn't matter. Hermit handed them the food, upon one of the few plates that laid in the homes, delicate relics, and they all danced it above their heads precariously, until the food was before Hope, and Hope looked up at it startled, blinking down at its contents before looking up at Hermit as if alarmed.

The food? It was the best they could make, with what they had. There were some wild herbs that had been edible back when they first settled on the islands, and they figured the almost stasis the ecosystem had been in since then would have helped to keep them as such. But really, most of what they had that was consumable were just seeds. Plants imported from their home world to be harvested here, but that no one had been able to plant since their fall. At the very least, they had been big enough that throughout his travels, they had served as a quick snack for Hope. Certainly not a proper meal, but that had evidently never crossed Hope’s mind.

But, if prepared properly, they could be made into something that constituted more a full meal for Hope.

Hope stared down at the seeds. Their hard outer shells had been removed to expose their soft insides, and they’d been roasted, as best as Hermit could manage without any hands to properly do so. They knew for a fact that roasting them had changed their flavor, and hopefully the added herbs would be enough, because they knew…

“I–” Hope stared at the food. His hands hovered over it hesitantly, and he looked around as if afraid anyone was judging him. “I don’t– I’m not sure–” Swallowed nervously, as if afraid talking would set them all off.

“I don’t think I can eat any more seeds.”

Because that was all he’d been eating over the past few weeks, hadn’t it been? There was nothing else here for him to eat. So he’d grown tired of it, and they had noticed. Sick of it even, because on Chaos, he didn’t eat at all , basically. He stopped to eat once , just before going for the Titan, but that was it. Whatever limitations his species had with food, or even if it was just preference, eating the same food over and over was doing no good for him. No doubt, right now, sick as he was, perhaps the thought of seeds again made him nauseous .

“They’re different.” Hermit offered. He sounded ashamed a bit, looked off to the side. “If I’d realized sooner that you were relying on me for food, I would have made better meals for you. I apologize for my ignorance, forever lost in CyberSpace as I was. Hopefully, this is better.”

And still, Hope hesitated. Took the plate but looked around, as if afraid someone would take it from him. Stared at the food for an awfully long time, thunder roaring outside, a clap of lightning turning the world white. He grabbed at the grass beneath him desperately, his mouth a haunted smile that didn’t reach his panicked eyes at all.

Eventually, he looked up, and searched their midst frantically. “None of you want to eat, right?”

They all blinked. Unanonumously shook their heads now. Hermit winced, because he recalled a little stinging memory in Hope’s files, of a cell and of punishment for doing nothing wrong. Elder hurried to elaborate.

“We don’t need to eat, child.” Gently.

Hope stared for a while longer. Nodded.

Turned to the food. Took a bite.

And like they’d seen before, primal hunger overtook sentient thought. He turned ravenous.

They watched, and felt the way it stung. Seeing him so hungry. Really, they should have known that doing as much physical work as he’d been doing, with little to no food, would leave him famished. He looked visibly thinner than he’d been prior to getting to islands, and they weren’t even sure how thin that was by his species’ standards. He could be starving, on the brink of death, and they wouldn’t know it, would be once again helpless to help.

And thing was, he was going to his death right now anyways, wasn’t he?

…

One minute wouldn’t do.

They left him to sleep the night away beside the flame.

He was exhausted. And sick. And he should have been with a loving family who would nurse him back to health, with his friends at the very least, trying to recover. To live and see another day.

But he was their last shot. Their final Hope. He had to stay.

It didn’t make it sting any less how peaceful he looked when asleep.

But that was last night. That was when the rain poured and the wind howled, and their enemy kept mercifully away. That was more than one minute, that was their more than one minute to him, a moment of respite which he spent thinking about what he had to do. It was painful that they couldn’t get him to give his own little mind a rest, that all they could do was a patchwork job at protecting him physically, but it would have to do. They couldn’t heal his scars, neither physical or mental, by magic, in one minute or a month.

And yet, still, with their one minute up, there was something they wanted to do. One last thing.

For their Hope.

So when he woke up, they were waiting outside for him. Truly, it wouldn’t be right to stop him. They’d said just more than one minute. They just wanted to give him a chance to rest. That had been done already. This was… this was more for their peace of mind. More their own want than anything. If Hope chose to leave, that was fine, because they couldn’t imagine this would mean all that very much to him.

But as he stood there, just outside the shade of the house they’d bunked under, under the early morning sun, eyes flicking to the distant silver beam, he sighed. Smiled, and headed their way.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, that cheery lilt back in his voice.

It stung, to think about how genuine it was. A lot of things about Hope stung. Because they cared .

And as he approached, they parted to reveal what lay in the center of their midst.

Hope stared at it in confusion, emerald eyes turning to the Elder almost meekly. 

“I don’t get it.”

The Elder smiled. Encouraged Hope forwards, just ever so slightly, gentle like he’d once been with his students. “Take a closer look.”

And Hope did. Grin melted down into a curious little frown, as he gingerly advanced on what lay in the center. He kneeled down, gathered the prone form in his hands, gently as if expecting it to spring to life, turned it over in his palms to examine it.

It was a Koco charm. With a golden triangle in its forehead to symbolize its importance. And with a few more, smaller, above its eyes, pointing away from each side of the initial triangle. And because a few golden triangles would never be enough, not for all the importance in the world, it bore a crown. A crown of gold, with two gilded wings on each side, and in the center, a spear pointing upwards, encrusted in a beautiful green gem. A blue veil flowed behind it, its fibers encrusted in gold fiber.

A Koco Charm. All for their Hope.

“It’s for you, child.” Hermit eventually elaborated, once it seemed like Hope would say nothing. “A charm for you, so that you have good luck. We know there is still a final trial to surpass.”

A charm for him. As special as they could muster. On par with the charms their champions once owned. Because Hope was no different than they had been. He was their champion now, he was their last chance. He was going to go and face the enemy that had ended their champions before. They dreaded the truth that it would end him too. So they gave him a charm, because he had none, because they couldn’t do anything to help him other than offer their sentiments. They couldn’t build him a Titan to pilot, as much as they wanted to. They couldn’t give him weapons or armor or an army to command. They couldn’t heal him and much less shield him. He would go. There was nothing they could do.

But yet they tried.

Elder smiled, as Hope’s eyes gingerly drifted towards them. “We dread seeing you go, for the last of us who ever faced the End and dared challenge it never returned, but we know nothing we say will dissuade you from moving on. So please, take our gift, Hope. Take it as our wish of good luck to you.”

“I…” The boy scrambled to his feet. Jolted, almost, as if he’d just remembered what he’d been so anxious to do. His hands trembled. His eyes drifted across the crowd that had gathered, and eventually he ducked his head down, a sniffle leaving him. His voice was small when he replied. 

“Thank you.”

And they all felt a flutter of joy spark within them, as bright and gold as that power of his. They all felt it watch over their ranks, excitement flooding their midst, because he’d taken it! He’d taken what little luck they could offer, even if he wouldn’t really understand. Taken the charm; taken the sentiment. It was the closest they could give to protection. Because back in their world, charms had only been handed to their own species, and those very special from other civilizations. They’d understood the sentiment. But that’s because they understood what the charms symbolized, understood how essential they were in their meaning. Hope didn’t get that. There really wasn’t time for him to get that.

But his smile made it so that it didn't really matter.

They watched as he beheld the Koco charm, one last time, before gingerly tucking it away in his quills. He wiped at his eyes with his hands, sniffling a bit before he looked up with a soft little smile, not at all like the sharp toothy grins they’d seen him dish out for his friends. And yet, yet it burned determined through the ebbing sunrise, more sincere than most everything they’d seen from him yet.

“I won’t let you down, I promise.”

They smiled at him. They erupted in cheers. Elder and Hermit watched, their pride pooling into their midst. The boy seemed to grow under the ovation, standing proud, before he nodded at them all, bowed gracefully, and blasted off, leaping to the air with a flip and disappearing through the grassy fields, towards the white light of the Emerald, scraping the sky.

“May Gaia guide your wings, little one.”

That was the fifth.

…

And it was not the last.

Chapter Text

Hope looked every bit the star he was, that night.

They watched on as pure gold, he conquered barriers they never could have dreamed off. Defied odds with a smile and a wish and a little quip. Bent the stars, their distant light, to his aid, made a spectacle out of a tyrant's defeat. The Intruder helped, of course, and that was another one of his miracles: his power to charm anyone on a whim. When the Intruder fell, they hurt for her as much as they would have for him, because now they realized that he must have seen something in her worth life.

And they’d never argue against him on such things.

He descended amidst the Starfall, the brightest of all the stars. His friends, freed from their prison, were there to greet him. Their reunion was eager, worried, where they all checked each other over and looked for wounds, but they were all so tired and bruised they just wound up as a hug pile on the floor, laughter light as the sun was just breaking the horizon.

So if they saved such a victory in its own separate file, a landmark date to forever be remembered, they all figured they were justified.

Now, they beheld their Hope as he helped his friends onto their vessel. It had been retrieved from CyberSpace, deemed functional, and all at once it had been announced they were leaving. Hope and his friends all seemed so very eager to go, and they couldn’t blame them. All of them children, all of them shouldn’t have had to suffer. 

They had earned their rest.

It didn’t mean they weren’t there to bid them farewell. All of them were, Elder and Hermit and every last one of them that had had the pleasure to even hear about their Hope. They crowded around the base of the hill, chirped them goodbyes as they clambered onto their red ship. Hope in particular beamed back at them, waved with a bright little laugh. The roar of the engine cut into the clear, sunny sky. The wheels turned on grass.

And within one moment and the next, their ship took to the sky.

Hope turned around then, perhaps to solemnly observe what landscape he was leaving behind, and his smile softened when he spotted them upon the hill.

He waved bye.

And then he was gone like a shooting star.

“Elder!”

They turned. Hope approached up the hill, a gaggle of them trailing behind him. His visage was glitchy, tinted teal as his friends had been, and yet his warm brown eyes remained bright as ever. 

And just before where he stood, mimicking his moments–or perhaps, more accurately, the other way around–was the Koco charm they’d gifted him, eager and animated.

“There’s some Kocos stuck up on the looking-glass.” Hope informed. His eyes drifted briefly off to the Elder and towards the horizon, where the plane was still visible, now nothing but a smudge of red against a sky of diamond. Hope smiled, ever so slightly, before turning back to the Elder. “I can’t get them down. Maybe we can build something for them to land on?”

The Elder watched the plane for a while longer. Eventually, he turned to Hope with a smile. “Show me where, child.”

They turned, and delved back into the digital realm once more.

They had their Hope, and while Hope was here, it would never be the last.