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Maybe it’s the fate of a Prince, to write his own downfall. Zam has always fit the archetype well, with paranoia scribbled on signs that lead to vicious words aimed at those he cares for, a dagger in the back of those who try to help him -
He just doesn’t know how to be gentle - doesn’t know how to deal with care, with kindness.
He’s only truly himself when it's a tragedy. He’s the doomed prince. He’s Hamlet, running head-first into his doom with convictions that last - or at least he was until the Wormhole.
Months and months of fighting, of dying time and time again at Mapic or Ro’s hands. Mapic’s sword, already wet with his blood, driving through his chest once again, a punishment Zam didn’t want to believe he’d earned. Every time, he’d got right back up again - stone-sword mentality, they’d called it, mocked him for it - but his convictions were his and he knew they were right.
He was right, and Mapicc and Ro were wrong. They were the villains of his story, the shadows in the corner of his eye, the constant spectres watching his every move, driving him deeper and deeper into paranoia until it weighs heavy at his bones -
And.
He.
Still.
Kept.
Fighting.
He fought and fought until he found a team that believed in his ideals, that saw beyond his shaky hands and blood-covered crown, that saw his convictions and agreed and maybe that was the first step.
The first step towards destruction (who’s, though? His? Or the server’s?) because he was happy there, and maybe that was his biggest mistake. Not teaming with Mapic and Ro in the first place, not sacrificing himself to stay in their graces, not betraying them and dying to them - but thinking he could be happy.
Because he had been. Subz had talked to him like he was something fragile, Vitalasy like something precious, and it hadn’t felt suffocating, it had felt like a warm blanket on a cold night. Comfort. Kindness.
All things he had been long missing, replaced with cold blades and even colder eyes. He thought he was safe.
Then Zam’s actions had brought it all crashing down around him - and so the tragedy is written - when they are attacked and they are killed and it was all because of him -
Yet Vitalasy and Subz hadn’t cared. They hadn’t forgiven him because there was nothing to forgive, they said. They had asked for his trust and he had given it, had joined in their plans that he couldn’t know, despite his lack of knowledge, because he had trusted them and maybe that was mistake number two.
Because Planet didn’t agree with what they were doing - and maybe Zam didn’t either but how could he say that to the people who saved his life - and Zam could feel his trust in them faltering, fumbling as he tried to hold onto it with shaky fingers because he had to trust them -
What did he have left if he couldn’t trust them?
But the paranoia wouldn’t leave and he went back to his signs, back to yellow stained fingers, glow ink that he regretted when he couldn’t wash it off his hands and he was left staring at the fluorescence in the dark and wanting to sob because it was a reminder of all that was wrong with him. Of his unceasing ability to destroy, because of course that was what had happened next.
From standing underneath the prison opposite a teary-eyed Vitalasy, betrayal on his lips, until Jaron killed him and Zam was left alone. To joining the Solar Union, back to gold like his crown, yellow like the signs that had driven him away - driven him towards Planet and Bacon and Jaron and they were good because they didn’t pretend to care yet go behind his back.
And then Vitalasy was gone and Subz was too, almost, hidden away somewhere Zam couldn’t find him even though he wanted to, wanted to speak to Subz because Vitalasy had given up the exploits, maybe they could be free together -
(He always wanted to forget that Eclipse was only ever meant to be a trio. You cannot have an Eclipse without the sun.)
And maybe Subz had forgotten that too, because the next time Zam saw him it was his body, and with Vitalasy at his shoulder - Vitalasy, him of the godly power and ideas of grandeur and yet looking so, so small - and Zam couldn’t scream, couldn’t show he cared because that’s the thing about being a Prince -
He had to stay strong.
And the pen scratches on. One more step to destruction .
The final step is Spoke. Standing atop a hill - deja vu, perhaps - and it was almost like a ritual, the way he threw his crown into that fire and swore to serve. Swore to fight and to kill for a god with powerful eyes and a manic smile and thus he had learnt the truth of the Wormhole -
And it was a promise of an ending.
He had never had a chance. Yes, he’d written his own downfall, had made the choices that had led him into destruction, but in the end it never would have mattered.
It would always have ended like this.
And this was him, finally powerful ( at what cost ), finally with a purpose ( but why was his purpose now destruction, he had always tried so hard to outrun his nature ), standing before his old teammates with a glint of mania in his eyes and nothing more to give them. He tried, of course - more out of habit than anything else, but his words were half hearted and the pain in Subz’ eyes told him that was obvious.
Eclipse Federation had shattered long ago, but they’d still hung on to the shards with bloody hands - all three of them, even if none would admit it. But now, Subz told him, it was time to let go.
But Zam - cowardly Zam, destructive Zam - couldn’t. Not yet. Not until he was standing at the edge of the void, teammates new and old around him, loud and raucous and excited for the next season.
(This is the final page.)
Because Zam is now ready to say goodbye. (and that was the least destructive thing he could have done)