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Trench had always spoken to the Torchbearer in a way he couldn’t explain to the other Banditos.
It spoke mostly in subtle ways. A campfire reigniting from cinders, a flower eagerly blooming through snow. He could almost swear he felt a breeze, like a gentle sigh, when he guided people by torchlight to its green forests and stately cliffs. A relieved sigh as if to say, They’re safe. Because you led them here.
The Torchbearer did his best to ease Dema escapees into the very new, very different way of life by going out of his way to show them Trench’s beautiful parts – the sunrise, the feeling of grass after a morning dew. But even then, when asked about it, he struggled to put into words his own ties to the area around them.
The truth was, even after being in Trench for a while, he was still figuring some of it out. Sometimes, he didn’t share the parts that he did understand with the other Banditos, just like he didn’t always share his real name.
Josh didn’t know everything about his connection to Trench and what it meant for him. But he did know a few things: One, his torch was more important than it looked. And two, it was starting to go out.
It first started happening after Clancy – no, Tyler – was snatched from right under his nose at the Bandito camp. Josh had turned the place over in disbelief after Nico had showed up at his camp, at his home, and taken someone he thought he had successfully saved. Tyler, his friend from another life – gone, in a moment.
He shoved the opening flap to his tent aside in desperation, looking around for anything he could use to find Tyler. He threw papers off his desk and slammed a fist into his bedroll. A Bishop here, in Trench? Even though Josh was an escapee of Dema himself, and now the leader of the Banditos… how could he hope to save Tyler? Only one thought repeated in his mind: You failed. Give up.
Suddenly Josh felt his heart stutter. He gasped for breath, stumbling, his focus narrowing as a dark vignette closed around his vision. Frantic, he dropped to his knees and crawled just outside to where his torch was planted by the door. In a daze, he looked up at the flame, heart still beating out of rhythm.
In the still, clear night, the torch was sputtering out. It appeared to try desperately to absorb the oxygen around it, flickering and throwing out sparks. Josh blinked hard as he stared at it, chest heaving. What was happening? This couldn’t be happening.
Was he dying?
Josh screwed his eyes shut and sucked in a painful breath through his teeth.
He couldn’t be dying. Not now. Not after losing Tyler.
He had to save Tyler.
And then, just as suddenly as it had come on, the pain was gone. Josh cracked open an eyelid. He took a deep breath as he watched the torch’s flame slowly return to its steady, warm glow, its fire even and strong.
Nearby Banditos rushed to check on him. He got to his feet and did his best to calm them down, but their help couldn’t distract Josh from the one clear thought he had: Trench was trying to tell him something again, but this time it was using his torch to do so, and it wasn’t being subtle.
----
Josh couldn’t remember a time where he was in Trench without the torch. Or a torch, at least. When he was first brought to Trench from Dema, he was a teenager. He didn’t have time for making new discoveries about the world around him when the most important thing was survival.
As the years went on, Josh learned more about Trench and the Banditos. His new home was beautiful, and wild, and everything Dema wasn’t. As more escapees made their way to Trench, Josh slowly took on more responsibility – until he became the leader, named for the tool he used as a beacon: the Torchbearer.
The title stuck, and Josh considered it an honor. Every time he was able to get someone out of Dema, Josh felt fulfilled in a way he knew he never would’ve in the city. But even though his family had come with him all those years ago, Josh still couldn’t shake the thought of the person he left behind: his childhood friend.
Tyler.
They didn’t grow up in the same district, but they still found their way to each other somehow. Best friends always did, Josh guessed. So despite the time that had passed, when he saw Tyler years later, in a ravine in Trench of all places, Josh knew him from the instant he saw him.
Tyler had found his way back to Josh.
Josh watched that day as Nico dragged Tyler back to Dema, upset but certain: Tyler would be back. He’d escaped Dema before, and he could do it again.
When the Banditos crept into Dema to liberate his friend, Josh’s mind raced. Would Tyler remember him? He’d heard whispers in the walled city that Tyler was known as “Clancy” now – what else would be different about him?
It turned out Tyler was unusual in a lot of ways, but Josh came to realize that later.
On the road to Tyler’s salvation, Josh turned to face his friend for the first time in years. Josh felt his heart hammering in his chest as he waited for Tyler to say something.
After a beat of silence, Tyler’s eyes locked on the torch.
“It’s warm,” he breathed.
Josh’s grip around the torch tightened, and behind his bandanna he grimaced; he had forgotten that this would be the first of many new things for Tyler. Josh watched as his old friend’s gaze moved slowly up to his eyes, the only visible part of his face.
Tyler’s mouth curved into a tiny smile. “Like you.”
Josh let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Tyler reached out a hand.
“Right… Josh?” he said.
And when they did the handshake they made up as children, Josh’s soul felt a little lighter.
----
But now… Now Josh didn’t know what to think. He could only come to one conclusion: his torch and his life were intertwined.
He couldn’t pretend that this made any sense, but he also couldn’t explain how he’d developed his ability to guide by projecting his consciousness away from his body. So in Josh’s eyes, this explanation made as much sense as anything else in Trench.
Though Josh had faith Tyler could make it back to him, something deep down told him that this time was different.
The other Banditos, understandably, were hesitant to venture into Dema again for the man known as Clancy. Especially when the performances started.
“He’s working for them.”
“He seems exhausted.”
“He’s a traitor.”
“I’ve never seen someone look so hopeless.”
Every update Josh got from the Banditos going on rescue missions made him want to run straight into Dema and knock down the door to the Bishops’ tower. He wanted to hold his torch’s flame to Nico’s robes and watch the twisted man burn.
But he knew he couldn’t do that. So he did the only other thing he could think to do: guide.
Josh began to project himself into Dema, becoming the friendly face and support Tyler so desperately needed without alerting the Bishops that he was an outsider. The two rarely spoke when they weren’t playing a show; after a concert, Tyler could barely talk, and the Bishops deprived him of sleep to keep him writing. Josh didn’t want to contribute to anything that would keep the songwriter from the rest his body needed.
When he would stop projecting and his split consciousness would return fully to his body in Trench, Josh would hear his torch crackling and popping. His heart would race and he’d struggle for air.
Because every hour Josh spent with “Clancy,” his hope that he could save his friend withered.
Tyler was tired, drawn, resigned to the fact that no one was coming for him. On the rare occurrence where their eyes would meet, Josh’s warm gaze would be returned with an empty one. Despite Josh’s presence, Tyler seemed to realize that it didn’t necessarily mean that the Banditos were on their way.
Tyler was watched 24/7 by the Bishops, who were finally utilizing his exceptional qualities. They had no desire to let him attempt an escape again, and they put effort into ensuring it wouldn’t happen. Without the full support of all the Banditos from Trench, a breakout just wouldn’t be possible.
And even though Josh was Josh, he was also the Torchbearer. He had his people to think about, and he couldn’t risk their lives for one man. Even if that man was Tyler.
----
Josh could barely sleep. Some nights when his body was actually tired enough to rest, he’d wake up in a cold sweat, lungs burning for air. On those nights he’d hear his torch outside sputtering, gasping just like him.
His heart would palpitate as thoughts of I can’t do this ran through his head. Only when he’d promise to himself, and to Tyler, that he would be able to save his friend would the pain stop and his torch return to its steady blaze.
On especially dark days, Josh was able to see what none of the other Banditos could: his torch was dying. Little by little, the firelight started growing smaller and quieter. Josh would still project himself into Dema to see Tyler when he could – when he couldn’t, he was anxious all day worrying about the man – but nothing changed the simple fact that his spark was going out.
Josh didn’t tell anyone about his torch. What could he say? He had to put on his bandanna and his tape. He had to be a strong leader; he had to guide escapees. The Banditos needed him to be the Torchbearer, and the weight of that responsibility, plus what he felt was his duty to Tyler, was getting to be more than he could bear.
He couldn’t be weak, like his torch’s dying embers. He had to be strong for the Banditos and for Tyler… while he still could.
----
Josh opened his eyes.
The landscape in front of him was lush and green. Hills and cliffs rose in the distance. He took a step forward and a patch of bright yellow flowers bloomed in the short grass around his boot.
He jerked his head up and looked around again. It was Trench but… it wasn’t. It was silent. There were no Banditos, no campfires, no tents. The sky was clear and starkly empty.
“Where…?” Josh began to say. His words evaporated immediately into the air.
“Trench,” said a voice behind him.
Josh turned around and nearly stumbled backwards.
It was Tyler, but not the Tyler that Josh had seen recently – broken, exhausted, worn.
Tyler’s hair was its natural dark brunette, not bubblegum pink. He had a scar across his nose but his face was healthy and full, not gaunt. And he was wearing an all-black outfit, not the candy-colored wardrobe the Bishops had been putting him in.
Tyler smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “You’re in Trench.”
Josh had so many questions that he couldn’t pick one to start with.
Tyler seemed to catch on. “This is Trench before Dema was built,” he said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around. “This continent has seen so much.”
Josh finally cleared his throat. “Tyler… what are you doing here?”
Tyler looked back at Josh, an almost apologetic expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I’m not Tyler. Or Clancy. Whatever you want to call him.”
Josh’s body tensed. “Then who are you?”
“That’s complicated,” not-Tyler replied. His mouth formed a thin line. “I’m sorry I had to borrow what he looks like. I wasn’t sure you’d listen otherwise.”
Josh waited.
Not-Tyler sighed. “Clancy is incredibly important in many ways, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. As those Bishops like to say, he’s an exception.”
The man pulled his hands out of his pockets and began to fidget with his fingers, seemingly unaware he was doing so. “He has a big role to play in this story. So many things still left to write, to do, to be.”
“In Dema?”
“In Dema, in Trench, and beyond.” Not-Tyler shrugged. “But he’s not the only one in this story.”
Josh felt ice rush into his veins. He steeled himself for what he knew he was about to hear.
“You’re the Torchbearer, and you have a role to play too.”
Josh’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know if I can. I’m barely able to hold my camp together while I’m trying to save Tyler. And my torch…”
Not-Tyler suddenly strode up to Josh. He took both of Josh’s hands in his hands and Josh almost reflexively jolted away. They were emitting heat – not scalding, but not normal either.
“I know about your torch. That’s why I’m here,” the man said. He was so close, his eyes boring into Josh’s. He took a deep breath. “Your torch is Trench.”
Josh felt like he’d been smacked in the face. “What? What does that mean?”
Not-Tyler looked down at the pair’s clasped hands. “I’m sorry. You could call me a messenger, and yet… I’m not doing a good job at articulating this.” He glanced up and grinned ruefully. “I’m only borrowing your friend’s likeness and mannerisms, but his emotions are so strong that they’re affecting me a little.”
Josh felt his face redden. Tyler’s emotions?
“The flame you carry is a part of Trench, just like it’s a part of you,” not-Tyler said. He closed his eyes slowly. “That fire burns from within Trench – and now it’s linked to you. Trench’s survival depends on your willingness to fight for yourself, for Trench, and for your friend.”
The messenger squeezed Josh’s hands, the calm warmth continuing to spread. Josh became aware of how scarred and calloused his hands were compared to Tyler’s.
Josh took a deep breath. “Why? Why did this happen? I know I was given the ability to guide – but why do this?”
“It’s a method of survival, for both you and Trench,” not-Tyler said, opening his eyes. “A fire can reignite even when its coals seem to be spent. Hope can bloom in places where it shouldn’t.” He gestured to the flowers at Josh’s feet.
“Torchbearer, Trench is telling you that you are capable. And more important than you realize,” the messenger said. He let go of Josh’s hands. Josh immediately felt the heat’s absence.
“This is Trench lending you its strength – as long as you have the strength to believe in it and yourself.”
Josh felt his eyes begin to well up. “What if I can’t save Tyler? What about the other people in Dema I haven’t been able to save?” His voice shook. “How can I call myself a leader – how can Trench have faith in me when I have trouble having faith in myself?”
The messenger shook his head. “It isn’t easy to ask this of you, I know.” He smiled sadly. “But trust that Trench wouldn’t pick you for this if it didn’t think you could do it. Draw on the strength of your Banditos, your friends and family. Ask them to help you fuel your fire when you’re not sure you can do it yourself.”
Josh pressed his fists to his eyelids and rubbed. He took a shaky breath.
Quickly, before Josh knew what was happening, not-Tyler wrapped his arms around Josh’s torso in a gentle hug.
“Tyler may not know how to express it right now, but he believes in you, Torchbearer,” the messenger breathed. “That much I can tell you for sure. Even if he doesn’t know if or when he will be saved… he knows, deep down, that if someone could do it, it’s you.”
Not-Tyler pulled back, eyes crinkling with a genuine smile.
“Right, Josh?”
Josh woke with a start. And unlike most nights, his heart was beating with a steady rhythm.
----
The Torchbearer made a decision that he was worried he would regret. He talked to a Bishop one day he projected himself into Dema.
Keons caught his eye after a performance. Josh attempted to avert his gaze – not afraid, but trying to avoid any recognition at all from a Bishop. He busied himself with sliding his drumsticks into a sleeve on his snare. The soundstage he was in was so brightly-colored and brightly-lit with neon it was making his head hurt, and it seemed every little sound caused an echo.
Keons, expression unreadable as always, walked up to Josh’s drum kit and said, “Come with me.”
Josh glanced at Tyler, but his friend was drained and out of it, sitting on the floor and staring into space. Every molecule of Josh’s being wanted to take Tyler away from here, grasp his fingers to stop him from picking at them, tell him everything would be alright until the man believed it.
But he couldn’t – not yet.
Josh didn’t trust any of the Bishops… But what could Keons do to a projection? Hesitantly, Josh followed him into his tower, trying to ignore the goosebumps raising on his arms as Keons closed the door behind them.
The Bishop appraised him for a moment.
“Torchbearer,” he rasped.
Josh gritted his teeth and said nothing.
Keons sighed. “I know who you really are. And I know you’re not fully here.”
Again, Josh remained silent, standing as still as possible, as if the Bishop was a snake about to strike.
“I can help you save Clancy.”
At this, Josh lost the little composure he had left. “What?” he choked out. “Why?”
Keons tilted his head toward the ceiling, eyes skyward. “This is not what this city was meant to be,” he said. “The other Bishops… they see Clancy as a pawn and a weapon. They see death as a way to keep their power over the people of the city. It’s been going on for too long, and I cannot let it continue.”
At this, Keons leveled his gaze to meet Josh’s eyes. “You, more than anyone else, know that Clancy is special,” Keons said. “But so are you.”
“I’m not that special.”
“You have passion. You have hope. And you have a connection with Trench that I have never seen before,” Keons replied. ”You’re what he needs. And I can help you to help him.”
Josh felt his projection flicker for the first time since his dream. He knew that back home, his torch was conflicted, choked one second and roaring with life in the next.
He took a deep breath and felt his form stabilize itself.
“Tell me what I have to do.”
----
And that is how Josh found himself on a submarine being smashed apart by a large blue dragon, on the shore of Voldsøy dragging a friend away from the tide, and outside a seaside cave watching said friend seize a now-dead Bishop.
The seizing was unnerving to watch, Josh couldn’t lie. But he knew Tyler would be shaken by what he’d just done, so Josh tried to be as calm as he could.
He joined Tyler outside of the cave once night fully fell, torch in hand. He’d shown his friend how to fashion a torch before pretending to make one for himself. In reality, he was manifesting his light from Trench into his projection just like he’d done earlier in the day.
The flame hadn’t wavered once since the conversation with Keons. Josh had a feeling that somehow, since appearing on the beach to pull Tyler out of the freezing water, the thread connecting the torch to his life had quietly dissolved.
Josh bit the inside of his cheek as he thought of the Bishop. Keons had died because he believed in what Clancy and the Torchbearer could do.
Create a new chapter in the story. Bring balance. Break a cycle.
Save others, while saving yourself.
Josh and Tyler stood side-by-side on a rocky outcrop near the water. Even though he couldn’t see far into the distance, Josh could smell the saltwater and hear the surf crashing.
Josh looked over at Tyler right as Tyler did the same. Tyler’s right hand clasped the antlers he was holding so tightly that Josh could swear he could hear the two scraping together.
In the split seconds when their eyes met, Josh had a realization: He’s going to find out.
One way or another, Tyler was going to find out that Josh hadn’t been by his side during his escape. Not physically, at least – and that might make all the difference to his friend.
They both turned their gaze to the horizon that neither could see. Josh wanted to do so many things that he knew he couldn’t; the things Tyler perceived as Josh helping him were just things he was actually doing himself. Josh only guided him to do them.
And yet… Josh wanted to grab Tyler’s chin and look into his now-lucid brown eyes. He wanted to slip his hand to rest over Tyler’s right wrist and help him carry the weight of the antlers and their terrible secret. Josh wanted to tell Tyler everything, everything, he’d discovered since his friend had been taken at the Bandito camp.
But he didn’t. There might be a time for that in the future, and there might not be.
As the two men lifted their flames high into the night, Josh felt something he’d never felt before. A warmth, starting in his chest and spreading throughout his body, rapidly reaching his fingers and toes. He felt like he was glowing from the inside out.
At the same time, Josh saw them. Other torches, being raised one by one across the expanse of the dark water.
For a fragment of a second, his world tilted on its axis – suddenly he was back in Trench, surrounded by the warmth of the fires being held aloft by the Banditos. The ground beneath him seemed to hum.
Then he was back on the shore of Voldsøy next to Tyler. He swallowed thickly, emotion coating his throat.
He wasn’t the only one carrying Trench’s flame anymore. Its embers, hot, bright, and alive, were glowing in the hands of the other Banditos across the Paladin Strait. His torch – and Tyler’s too, for that matter – was glowing in tandem with theirs. He could feel it.
Josh knew they all had an uphill battle ahead of them. But as he looked across the water and saw those torches, feeling the warmth from Tyler’s fire right next to him, he felt ready for it.
The spirit of Trench was alive. Tyler – Clancy, the citizen, the escapee, the exception, and Josh’s friend – was alive. And Josh was maybe the most alive he’d been in a long time.