Chapter Text
0.1
Jophiel truly didn’t know or understand why Saparata was against leading the meeting about island two. Anytime Saparata was pushed by others, namely Fluxion, he would always state that ‘it’s a conflict of interest’. To which when pressed for more detail, he would clam up and fiddle with that golden pin on his cloak. Even by Island two standards, Saparata was an oddity. The nationless individual always wore his armor, almost never removing it. Saparata also only used harder, coarse fabrics. Cotton, leather, and hemp. He never bought clothing from stores with currency and always traded in goods when he could. Notable, Jophiel can only remember very few times when Saparata used currency in the form of acquiring materials for boat security. But most of the time, Saparata kept to himself.
Now on the surface, this wasn’t the oddest thing, nor was it what stood out to people. No, it was perhaps the quality of the clothing. It had a roughness, a roughness to it that made it harder to tear. It was nothing like any cloth or style that she ever recognized from any land within Island two. His long shirt was in similar style as Aledinoian, although she firmly hesitates with that. It lacked the wrap and belt cloth for it, it lacked the undershirt flared out at the bottom she saw in every Aledinoian outfit. While his clothing and actions might have been strange, it seemed he was even stranger at home.
From what she had heard for Fluxion, Saparata had a rather large stockpile of materials- a good prevent of which was food. But he also spoke of the resource materials. Saplings, bundles of wood, wool, pressed flowers, dozens of wood crates of seeds, iron, gold, Diamonds. Fluxion had also stated that on occasion those stockpiles suddenly dropped drastically. That is as if whenever Saparata suddenly hit a certain quota, more the half of his built up supplies would suddenly disappear. Saparata had never quite answered where those supplies had gone, nor why he had even been stocking up such a large amount. Frankly, he should never need to stock up on that large amount of supplies.
Now frankly, it was something Jophiel had been truly thankful for. For all that Saparata had been off or too odd, he was kind. For all that Saparata denied and had refused, he was an excellent diplomat and frankly, Jophiel could understand now why Fluxion was constantly trying to poach Saparata for Luminaria. Still, Living within Saparata’s house after Serephimes… attempt was an experience in and of itself.
(It broke her heart into a million and one pieces. It was frankly a miracle that Saparata had chosen to visit and join on her stroll. But even as he chased off Seraphime, he was kind. Regardless, It didn’t stop her heart from breaking, but nevertheless he was kind.)
Saparata was distant and had a few strict rules. There were rooms they were not to go into or rooms to avoid. Things that they were not to touch or move. Jophiel did her best to ensure the guards that came with her follow these rules. But things did come to a head went news of her attempted assassination came to ahead. People wanted answers and Jophiel was more willing to provide at a new meeting.
Ultimately, Jophiel had sent her guards to spread the message of a new meeting while she stayed and aided Saparata in the construction of his vacation- the soon to be meeting room. It also turned out that Fluxion had underestimated Saparata’s food storage. Crates of cured meat, unwashed eggs, carefully packed and stored cheeses, dozens of flour, spices, sugars. Crates of iron and diamond, well forged swords in styles that Jophiel doesn’t recognize, seeds for a variety of plants made to grow in harsh soil and some she knew that Saparata had specifically requested to be changed to grow in harsh soil. All packed up and hidden well.
Then, into the late evening, she saw him moving dozens of dozens of crates from his storage room to a small pier. She watched him silently transport crate after crate to the group of boats sat and tied up on the pier. It was obvious that he was transporting this supplies somewhere- but where? And rather to who? Regardless, Jophiel knew one thing was true.
It was stupid to go alone.
But Jophiel could not deny that also wanted some answers. that must be why she, rather recklessly, snuck out to follow Saparata. Sneaking onboards and among the crates was difficult. It was by chance that she managed to hide undetected- at least until Saparata came to a complete stop. It had only been due to the darkness of the night and the brightness of her communicator that caught Saparata’s eyes.
It had sprouted a bit of argument and eventually ended with Jophiel swearing her silence. Jophiel had wanted to demand answers, but kept her tongue. It was still quiet regardless, but Jophiel had ideas quickly form the closer they arrived at the barrier. There were a few larger ships on the other side, but perhaps more importantly were the groups of smaller ships huddled as close to the barrier as they could safely be. Different flags and symbols literally the small crews aboard the boats. It was easy to tell that these were groups- nations perhaps, of the other island.
Saparata held a hand to prevent her from standing as he spoke to the group, “This is Jophiel, Queen of Tri-color and friend, she will hold her silence.” It seems that she had not gone unnoticed, especially considering how some of those had looked upon her. But Saparata’s word had gained affirmations from the several existing groups. She watched as Saparata stood up and carefully began pulling the boat over with the rope. Jophiel had to help. She gathered some rope and helped him pull it closer. Saparata had looked surprised for a moment, before it turned to grateful and then focused back on their work.
The two pulled the first boat as close as possible before Saparata removed his cloak and made a stay motion to her. The other bundled the rope at the edge of the boat before jumping into the water and swimming upwards, paddling. There were a few concerns and people who seemed ready to jump into the sea, but were stopped both by their own comrades and by shock as Saparata waved at them. Jophiel herself nearly yelled as they did. But instead she watched Saparata push and nudge the first boat past the barrier, nearly grazing it himself. Seriously, he was going to give her a heart attack.
But when noises of panic ensured, she looked up to find another member of the Island two group. They jumped from one of the boats with the flags of a red and golden sword. The swam quickly and pushed the boat over quickly towards a near crew with a blue cross that quickly began pulling the long group of boats over to their side. Then the Island one swimming got as close to the barrier as possible. She saw the silence and watch the dark haired man pop a large, relieved smile. He placed a gloved hand as close to the barrier and Saparata did the same.
‘A conflict of interest’
Oh.
Jophie understood more than she did in that moment then in the years on Island two with Saparata. The silence, the longing looks over the ocean, the ring that dangled from his neck, the golden clasp of his cape being the exact same one as the flag of the ship this man jumped from.
Saparata was married to a man on Island one
0.2
“You kill me, you risk war with Yggdrasil”, Saparata had pleaded minutes before his execution, “You will court war with the covenant, with Westhelm.”
The people of island two didn’t understand his words. Back then they had merely written them off as an empty threat of a dead man. Even with inquiries and political threats towards the southside of the Island two, there was no mention or illusion to any group or nation known as Westhelm or the covenant. There was no place or location they knew as Yggdrasil. They eventually dropped the information entirely. But eventually, that information was corrected weeks down the line.
When the barrier fell, the initial few weeks were peaceful. The only exception had been the beginning chaos, namely in acquiring livestock and other varieties of foods. It had been the struggle in adapting to sudden change, but the conflict had been minimal. Although in truth it was a lesser number of people from the other island then they expected. It was only a month after the barrier fell that groups began coming.
First they were from a nation called Elysium, then a nation called Covenant and then Westhelm. The groups had slowly taken to expanding in numbers, stronger in nature and seemingly higher ranking. The groups, while peaceful in nature, confirmed that they were looking for two differing individuals, one a wanted fugitive called Knight Arcturus and the other a person they only known as ‘The Angel of Yggdrasil’ or ‘Yggdrasil’s Angel’. From what people of various nations learned, the former had been a person who attempted assassination on Westhelm's leader, while the latter had been of Pandora, secretly leaving supplies at the very edge of the border on a weekly basis for them. Several members of various parties confirmed that they had only survived due to Angels intervention.
Then The Covenant set the bounty, then Westhelm doubled it and then Elyisum added to it. Turning the once unknown ‘Angel of Yggdrasil’ into not just a political benefit, but a monetary one. It was that act that dragged dozens of citizens of Islands two nations into looking deeper into who the angel was. But perhaps most importantly, the Angel of Yggdrasil was a sign and symbol to the people of Island one. A sign of peace and hope, a sign of kindness and generosity. The Angel had been a sign to the people of Yggdrasil that Island two was willing to share and offer their own resources.
The Angel had been an early sign of peace.
Regardless, with each week that passed, Westhelm and the Covenant only added to the bounty and started to explore the more southern half of the land. It had been days after they pushed towards the south, that someone put the pieces together on who the angel was.
And that there had been some people who remembered Saparata’s words upon the day of his death. The warning of Yggdrasil, of The Covenant, of Westhelm. They had believed them threats, had believed them words of a maddened man desperate to escape death. Those words were warnings. That was the thought of all who realized, remembering the way in peaceful spars that Westhelm was powerful and skilled enough to easily bring down five soldiers of Island two to one of their own. Remembered learning how the Covenant kept the entirety of the Island one-Yggdrasil on their guards.
The nations of Island two kept silent.
(Little did they know they were already far too late. That in hunting Saparata they had left far too great of a papertrail. That in threatening their southern nations, the north had fed fear and a desperate need for protection. The nations of northern Pandora had bitten their own tail as the south gave vassalhood to Yggdrasil.)
~
Schpood was not a kind man. He was not a sane one either.
Most of them who had been drawn into this timeloop ages ago were not kind. Turntap was ruthless when needed and had only truly softened with Saparata’s influence, Schpood would grudgingly admit the same. Spyder was not kind either, Schpood adored the days back when he could see the other coated in blood with the wild look in his eyes craving another hunt.
Sidefall was certainly far from sane, but he was not of age yet. Benji had been a child when Elysium called for a leader and chose him. Sidefall struggled with kindness, whether giving or receiving it. Benji couldn’t handle genuine kindness when all Elysium did was take from him.
Saparata was different. Saparata was kind, a kindness that in most cases would have eaten him alive in Yggdrasil's younger days.
(Saparata was not meant to die.)
Schpood was not a sane man.
(He wanted to split Pandora’s lands and nations part, he wanted to burn cities and bodies in pyres of flames that would consume all of its forests. He dreams of strapping down Fluxion on a butcher table and carving him open alive. He wanted to string up all of Fluxion's conspiracy members and dig meat hooks onto them and bleed them out. He wants to step foot onto the commonwealth and find a massacre with nothing but blood and rotting corpses splattering the streets.)
Schpood isn’t a kind man.
(But kindness can be taught. Schpood cannot be kind in the way Saparata is, genuine and honest. Schpood refuses to be the kindness that Benji had engraved into him, ever giving, always flowing and always to his detriment.)
Schpood looks upon the soldier before him and speaks, “We prepare for war, I want you to spread this message to the rest of the soldiers. Any member of any nation we assault, who is a child, is to be spared and captured.”
The Soldier nods, shouting the traditional ‘Glory to Westhelm!’ and leaves.
Yggdrasil, the world tree, was meant to give them peace in this loop. The admin’s themselves swore it. If the gods watching over Yggdrasil will not oversee their promises, then Schpood is more than willing to raise hell.
(He knows Spyder will be right by his side and Turntap is more welcome to join him. Sidefall can write his propaganda all he wishes. But Schpood will not let Benji onto that battlefield whether as a soldier or healer, Benji will not step foot in this loop.)
~
Spyder watches over the balcony at the soldiers on the grounds of the forge. Some are hauling stone and iron, others carrying crates of diamond and netherite. He can even spot some members of the Covenant among Westhelm soldiers, cleaning and sharpening blades silently.
The Covenant had shown up a few hours after Schpood gave his war announcement to all of Westhelm. The news had likely spread quickly as it normally did. But Spyder and Schpood handled that beforehand. They had secured healers and doctors from Elysium on the agreement that they would guard Elysium's peace, but other than Elysium, they only pushed for neutrality during this conflict with one main condition. That if anyone from Pandora fled to Yggdrasil, that they would be turned over to Westhelm or the Covenant.
They had been met with dozens of refusals at first, until Westhelm offered an agreement. That they, anyone who fled, could surrender their nationality to one of the lands within Yggdrasil. Even then there had been those who hadn’t been willing, until the Covenant joined up. Fear and Silence kept the rest silent. One Empire was one thing, two was another.
But his men weren’t why Spyder was here. That belonged to the man behind him, staring out in the distance towards where Spyder knows Pandora lies. Spyder moves his gaze to the storyteller as the being speaks, “You three intend to see this act through, do you not?” Ish, the storyteller, is not a god Westhelm worships. Ish is not a god that watches over Yggdrasil, but he is one that aids it as needed.
Spyder watches Ish as the storyteller’s hand drifts towards the nearby flower pot. Spyder does not worship The Storyteller, but he knows Ish. Whether or not it is Saparata’s influence upon him, his voice softens, “We do, will you act?” It's a question they both already know the answer to. The few exceptional times Ish has interfered with loops is due to divine threats or divine actions, never human ones.
Ish’s gaze leaves Pandora to face him. Many say that Ish looks too normal for a god, Spyder will personally call it bullshit. Ish was the Storyteller, a god who observes and remembers. Who recalls each story with astonishing clarity. Elysium chants often speak of a god that remembers. They wouldn’t be wrong. Ish does remember, he remembers more than the two thousand years the chants often spoke of. He can remember all the way to nearly three hundred thousand loops. Spyder hasn’t even looping that long.
Ish, instead of immediately answering, reaches down to the flower pot and scoops up a small handful of dirt. It's a gentle act, he doesn’t take any soil close or connected to the flower, being as careful as he could be so as to not harm it. Then Ish speaks, “Each and every action of this world is one for mortality to decide. It is not my right as the storyteller to make the choice or decision for you.” Ish takes that handful of dirt and smooths it out as he then begins pouring it back into the pot as he continues speaking, “My only right is to carve their memories, their actions, their stories into my being. My only right is to remember and record. To speak their stories when time forgets them, when they are long no more.” Ish pulls away from the pot to face Spyder.
For a moment, Spyder is faced with Ish. Not the brown hair and caramel eyes, but the true ish. The Ish of a million faces, the Ish whose eyes are now a thousand colors, whose hair is every existing color all at once, whose skin is more a patchwork of every color.
There is a press of kiss on his burrow and then Spyder knows Ish is gone.
Spyder lets himself linger in that moment. Before he moves his gaze back to the forge grounds. There is work that must be done.
(Ish is no god of Westhelm. They never pray to him, never ask for him. Yet, he always answers. Ish is not Westhelm's god but he is their witness.)
~
It was pointless.
Hvy or Gotago would make a joke at that. Something about a pencil. NewKids just felt empty.
(Gotago was less of person than when Newkids last saw him since the attack. The other was a mutilated corpse. There were ribs poking through his flesh, one of his eyes stabbed through with a dagger and an arm that was hanging on by dead flesh alone.)
(He saw Hvy get a sword shoved straight through his chest, watched a second soldier shove a sword through Hvy's neck. He remembered screaming as the world slowed while Hvy choked on his own blood.)
Newkids didn’t know why they kept him alive as they set fire to the town. He wasn’t the only one either. All the others were children, many of which were younger than him, although there were two or three who were about his age. But he barely saw them. Unlike him, they were escorted onto a ship that sailed off, while he remained. Many were seemingly brought below deck and then, the fires were set.
He watched the soldiers drag the bodies of hundreds of Luminara citizens onto pyres and burned. He doesn’t know if anyone's coming, he doesn’t know what happens as a group splits off with him to march off.
(He sees Aperion has faced a worse fate.)
~
‘Luminara has fallen’
Those words echoed for weeks even in the aftermath. But Aperion’s fall followed only hours after the first announcement. Hell had broken loose on both ends, one on the war side of things and the other within the nations themselves.
The southside was entirely blocked off by Westhelm and the nations of the southside were more than willing to alert Westhelm of anyone from the northside appearing. They had considered the center, but Mazie had married someone from Yggdrasil; they couldn’t take any risks. Cass was fortunate that Westhelm and The Covenant pushed towards the Commonwealth instead of the Coalition or Tri-color. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t eventually, but it gave Cass more time. It gave the coalition more time to flee, to prepare, to do something.
They struggled to hold the line, but they lacked the desperation, the discipline, the adaption, the whatever the hell Yggdrasil’s people had picked up in order to survive. Still, as morale went down, people sought other methods to keep light, to keep hope, to keep themselves together as people died around them.
(Cass didn’t expect it to come crumbling down the way it did.)
It hadn’t been anything other than a normal night by the Coalition's standards, then the screaming started. Cass remembers panic, remembers waking up with white noise. Remembers thinking ‘They finally came for us.’ She had rushed out the door not knowing either to expect bodies laying across the streets silently or if there would be burning houses like Westhelm.
Somehow what she found was worse.
Claran was a former member of an assault squad, notably with another member called Therin. Cass knows Therin's name would have likely been forgotten or barely thought about if Claran hadn’t reacted like he did. He was dead silent for days, he didn’t interact or treat the world like it was real. He moved through the day rarely speaking or eating. Then the mania started. He insisted that Therin was alive, that Westhelm or The Covenant were holding him prisoner. If anyone tried to deny it, to break Claran’s illusion, he got violent. There were several times when they had to hold him down or lock him up.
Then, one member had recovered Therin’s camera. They’d spoken of showing Claran the videos on it, to try to bring some peace to Claran. Cass couldn’t know if she wanted to curse or bless that Camera. So much internal strife, so much revealed in the course of an hour.
Cass wouldn’t be able to suppress the knowledge even if she wanted to. Not with the sheer amount of people who bore witness alongside Claran. The video wasn’t much, but it was something dangerous. But something more dangerous sparked in Cass. Something dangerously akin to hope.
(“How do you make nations turn on each other and tear each other apart?” It was a question that Spyder had asked many loops ago. All the way back that when in one of them the commonwealth had remained their own separate nations instead of merging together. Still, Schpood hated the commonwealth, it was just something that stuck to him.
Schpood had previously pondered that question for a while, before answering. “A bigger threat would obviously draw a group together. You allow them to think everyone is together in the same situation. But someone in that group has to have cracked before, so long as that happens…” Schpood remembers the silent look Spyder had, “..you make them believe that they can trust each other, and then you instill doubt. You make sure there is evidence of wrongdoing. And you make sure it can be found, and that it can be known."
“They are more than willing to tear each other apart, especially if one of them is the reason they are in that situation in the first place.”)
~
Fluxion had done nothing.
Cass felt empty. Empty in the sense of loss, empty in the sense that Fluxion will burn down the Land of Island two, of Pandora as Yggdrasil referred to them as. It was iconic, she thought now. For all Fluxion raved about Yggdrasil prompting war, it had Pandora who opened that box. It had been Pandora who killed their only hope.
She wants so badly to strangle Fluxion. She wants his head on a pike. She wants him dead.
But that would ruin every one of her plans. That ruin her only chance to save her nation.
It's almost obvious in hindsight. The court trial was less of a trial and more of sentencing. The placement of Thomas as the prosecutor, the judge barely listened to Saparata’s pleading, to the others words and didn’t even think to look into or question the words spoken by either party. Separata had even admitted straight up to her when he was traveling that Luminara would be building his roof while he delivered the message of the second meeting.
Even as she pushed for answers, even as she pushed for a why. Fluxion dodged and weaved, putting blame off.
Why, part of her screams, what do you gain for denying it now? We lay dying, our people shatter and break. Our nations burn and you cannot answer for your crimes! The people of Luminara slaughtered like pigs, the people of Aperion massacred in the dead of night when they should have been safe!
The others are too consumed or disbelieving of their master tactical officer. They do not trust Cass’s words, believing her too cynical to trust from the edges of the war. There is no one willing or wanting to question.
Leaving that meeting, solidified Cass’s own choice.
~
Turntap laughs when the letter arrives. He can’t help it
(Looks like he won the bet this time Schpood, he can’t wait to see that angry face all screwed up with rage as the other curses him. He imagines Saparata would laugh at Schpoods rage while patting him on the back. Sidefall would poke fun at Schpood while Benji offered condolences with Spyder also laughing at his emperor.)
Turntap exits his office to walk the halls towards Zynn. His second in command is set in the near empty mess hall. Next to her sides are several of the Aperion children, the younger ones. It is warming in a way.
(It brings back some older memories of the Aculon Empire, curled up by his brother at their fathers sides. Turntap never liked when teenagers, when children had to die all in the name of Elanuelo. It was one thing that Turntap tried to avoid, but he couldn’t always. Children charging into burning buildings, children running with kitchen knives and their parents swords. Children with armour and rage. Turntap did not like when children had to die, but they made their choice and would live with it.)
(Saparata had changed that. A captivating man who loved children. No child of Aperion had died because of him. All of them were either scattered in Westhelm, The Covenant, Elysium and even a few sent up to Infernus. The same could be said for Luminara’s. They were likely to do this to the other nations of Pandora as well.)
“-and then the raven spoke aloud, “Nevermore! Nevermore!”. That's why Nevermore is called that.” There were several gasps and oooh’s and a few ‘Thats so cool!’. Turntap can’t help his chuckle. Zynn looks up over at him from the storybook held in her hands, several litter, more innocent faces follow her gaze.
Turntap merely takes a spot across from Zynn while a little boy with blonde hair and grey teddy bear stares at him. He speaks softly, “Nothing major. We just received word from the bear. It seems I won this bet.” Zynn chuckles while the grey haired girl at her side spoke up, “What bet?” Turntap smiles at the little girl. She is young, agile and strong, she’ll make an excellent warrior in a decade or two. He indulges the lass, “Me and a friend of mine had a bet on which animal would write to us first, I bet on the bear, My friend bet on a hoard of rats.” There were a few ewws and ‘A hoard of rats?!’.
He indulges the children a bit more alongside Zynn, before one of the guards rounds up the rowdy little ones. It's amusing to witness the Covenant guards tend to the little ones. It softens old wounds from the Aculon Empires cruelty. It's only when the hall is empty of little ones that the room turns serious.
Zynn straightens up, “Speak, the Coalition reached out to us. What are their goals and motivation?” Turntap merely slides the letter over, he watches her read it over while he speaks, “They discovered Fluxion’s actions and haven’t taken it well. When attempting to spread said information, they have been rebuked and isolated. They reached out with the offer.” Zynn grimaces as they respond, “Discovering betrayal and doing nothing, disgusting. I may understand on some occasions, stress of war, but Betrayals of this degree must be answered for. Still,” Her eyes narrow, “She intends to betray the alliance?” Turntap hums.
He gives himself the appearance of thinking it over before speaking, “They betrayed her first, she no longer sees herself as one of them. But its not just a betrayal of herself, but a betrayal of her people and nation. I find people take that
harder.” Zynn nods and stands, “I’ll alert the soldiers and prepare for a meeting.” Turntap nods and then pauses.
“Have them bring Therin with us. I find a peace offering will aid us.”
(Saparata wouldn’t be happy with their actions, well not all of them. But Saparata wasn’t here. He wasn’t tucked in the small beachhouse on the edge of Yggdrasil they had set up. He was wrapped in Turntaps arms or leaning against Schpood. He wasn’t playing keep away with Spyder while the other tried to steal a freshly baked cookie. He wasn’t sitting in on the kitchen table drinking tea with Benji while they debated the novel Benji had been gifted a while ago in one of his loops. He wasn’t wrangling Sidefall when the other got vicious. He wasn’t there planting flowers with Ish when the Storyteller visited.)
(They had been waiting for Saparata and they became ticking time bombs when they couldn’t find him. Spyder had been the one to snap first as he massacred Luminara, followed by his soldiers. But it was Schpood who struck fear, who tormented the commonwealth. Relocating the commonwealth children and dragging out the war to drive the people of the commonwealth to starvation.)
(Turntap personally thrived off the sudden end, the sudden extinction of Aperion. The silence that filled the grounds could be mistaken as peaceful if one ignored the bodies and lack of human sound.)
(Saparata made monsters human. He would look at that with fear, yes, but also kindness. He would wipe the blood off, he would stitch their wounds closed. He would wash their hair and run his hands through it. He was appalled by their actions, but he stuck close. He let his disappointment be known but he would still tuck himself against them. He made them feel human.)
(They were already monsters before Saprata, and then Human, but without him, there were times they struggled to become human, to retain that humanity and quite often they become like this. They become worse monsters.)
He expected Saprata's disappointment when he next saw him, if only because that meant he would see him again.
0.3
(The ending was a miserable one. But it was one that Saparata had come to be content with. His house was more or less a bar and home, he spend a few at Westhelm and visited Turntap's grave every three months. He’d stood in for the Emperor's council more than once and had talked Schpood out of risky decisions more than a dozen times. At some point, every three months turned to every month, and then a few days into a week and then that week into three. It was at the point Saparata had spent more time within Westhelm then he did Pandora.)
(But when he suddenly awoke in bed, nearly three years in the before. All he could do was cry in sorrow for an hour, mourning what he lost. Then he got himself together and swore to make a new better lifetime. Yet..)
Saparata had tried- He had tried impossibly hard. He had stopped Sereaphime from stabbing through Jophiel, he had pushed to the have the meeting elsewhere yet-
He couldn’t help but stare in shock at where ThreeBelowZeros’ body lay. For all his efforts, every single attempt to keep the leaders alive, to keep Fluxion in check, he still failed. Part of him, that unspoken part from the previous life, gathers ThreeBelowZero in arms and wails. He curls his body around Luminaria’s leader and sobs over the body of the brave and kind man. He doesn’t care who sees him, doesn’t care that Fluxion is right behind him and could easily backstab him as he has done many times in the past. Fluxion could try, Fluxion could try again and again, but he will not let Fluxion sing lies about this man in his arms. Saparata knows that he’s saying that he’s speaking, but he cannot care.
There are those who attempt to pull him away, Fluxion, Thomas, and numerous others, but its until Jophiel- his sister- appears and tucks him close to her while he cradles ThreeBelow in his arms. She kisses his forward and says, “You must let him go.”
She doesn’t get it. Saparata failed. He failed and he failed and he failed. But the words that leave are the closest thing to truth, “It should have been me.” He watches the way his sister's eyes widen, feels the way she wraps her arms tighter around him and cups his cheeks and whispers, “Never little bird, I would never wish that upon you.” Saparata can’t help it, can’t deny the facts, as he confesses to his sister, “I never got to tell him.”
I never got to tell him thank you for believing in me. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for standing by me even when I accused you. Thank you for your kindness.
Saparata doesn’t know if he should have said those words when there are dozens of gasps around him, when his sister's eyes widen and somehow soften impossibly more. But he can’t care, not when he failed, not when in this second chance, he failed.
He blocks out the majority of his sister's next words and turns back to ThreeBelowZero, only barely catching the eyes of the culprits who somehow believes he has the right to be devastated for this act of his.
A dead part of his heart calls, I loved you once. I hate you, his mind whispers.