Chapter Text
They had once been their Elder’s favorite.
He had told them as much. He saw something in them, a promise of something far grander than their people, he said, as he chose them to be his apprentice, to follow in his footsteps. In their Heart, he said, he saw something that could keep a thousand stars burning with passion alone.
He had well liked E’n-ar. He was the one who had lifted Gk-kil through the ranks. He often took it upon himself to make sure Qh:ila took care of xyrself. But he had told them, and them alone, that they were his favorite.
They didn’t flaunt it. Being someone’s favorite changed nothing, really, their Heart was really on their people, on their safety and their prosperity. They loved their people more than they loved themselves, took joy in simply waking up in the morning to see them all still here, still alive, despite the odds, despite it all.
Sometimes they still ached. Still ached for friends they had lost when they were still a child. Friends who they had not had a chance to meet, from other tribes, who had not made it to the ships, who could not escape The End. And later friends who died during planet-fall, with the ship that crashed, with the first storms, with all the dangers they were not ready for. But that past was steadily growing more distant, as if consumed by the fog that sometimes formed on this planet, and they had spent most of their life here, anyways. They had so many people they loved here. As pained as they were by losses tainted by the past, they had the future to look forward to.
So they had.
When Master al'Kil-La:t had called for the Titans to be built, for weapons forged which could maybe fend off The End, for they could not keep running, could not leave so long as the Master Emerald refused, when Master al'Kil-La:t called for it to be done… Well, the first public request went to E’n-ar. Of course it went to faer. Fae was their hero, even from a young child, having been, all those years ago, the one who shouted into the night that The End was nigh, the one who triggered the blaze that was their evacuation. Then E’n-ar had gone on to become the people’s favorite, uplifting spirits during their trek through space, and leading multiple of the exploration parties once they had settled upon their new planet, despite faer young age. And when the rush of danger had settled, fae had become the guardian of the common people, never a part of the military but always the first in line to defend them.
So of course, the first request, the first call to action, the first announcement of the Titans and their purpose, it went to E’n-ar.
But they knew differently. The first official request had gone to E’n-ar. The first request, in actuality, when the first Titan was still barely out of draft stages, was still nothing more than blueprints and materials waiting to come together, had gone to them.
The Elder had pulled them aside. Had shown them the blueprints, and they had gone quiet, for the form before them bore a resemblance so striking to a faint memory of their long lost friend from the T:stree-lY Tribe.
“D-era:yL.” The Elder had told them, quietly, a hand on their shoulder as they stared at the blueprints before them, as they navigated through the different views for all the components this colossal weapon would take to make. “I want to ask you now. Because I believe there is no one better suited for this, there is no one with a Heart like yours, there is no one who could match your passion.”
They had heard these compliments and praises thousands of times before. Every time they made food for their community or surrounding ones, every time they volunteered to lead a lesson with the children, every time they were there for a struggling family, every time they cleaned up communal spaces or offered to help someone else clear up their own private abodes. Every time they brought food to workers or offered Koco repairs for the soldiers. Every time. They knew.
They had also known what was coming.
“Will you take the Titan? Will you help defend us from The End?”
They had been quiet, for a moment. As they contemplated the vessel before them. Their Elder would not have asked if he knew the situation was not dire. He would never have risked them, his favorite, he wouldn’t have, but clearly, he felt as if it was needed. As if truly no one else could achieve the impossible, could have fought the enemy which had already taken so much from them. He was willing to give his best, his favorite pupil, one of the few people he had dared get attached to.
And so, they knew then, that it was dire.
They had turned to him. Their green eyes had met his own.
“I will.”
So, then, their anger at the alien before them could be forgiven.
They were not as deeply lost in the collective as most. Not as much as their Elder was, a fact that pained them every day they bothered to process data. Their individuality had been enshrined in the status of a hero, even if some of the data had degraded over the centuries, and the barriers were slowly starting to break down. They remained independent enough that their anger held fast despite the flickers of affection-worry-concern, and that they did not bother to update their knowledge, at least for the moment, of the blue hedgehog in front of them.
“I loved my people.” Their voice trembled, as he approached them, as they pulled him into Cyber Space to glare down at him in a form barely an echo of their old self. “More than my own life. More than anything.”
He stared up at them with empty green eyes. Tiny thing. They couldn’t understand how… The flame of their anger flickered, but the apathy in those eyes kept it burning.
“I happily gave everything to protect our new home.”
And it was true. It was true. They had done it before the Titan, yes, their time and their skills had always been for others before themselves, but when they bowed to drive their Titan, they gave everything. They gave E’n-ar. They gave their health, for syncing to the Titan did not come without consequences. They gave their life, because once The End had been sealed, and they all returned, victorious but defeated, and they realized that there was a chance their days might be numbered, they gave what time they had left to design and erect the barriers that may forever hold The End, and make their victory eternal.
And before them stood The End’s pawn. Its lock pick to its chains. The harbinger of doom upon the world and the remains of the people they had fought to protect.
And the blue hedgehog looked at them with empty eyes which betrayed no remorse.
“You gutted my Titan.” They finally spat. Those eyes seemed to finally see them, then, narrowing just slightly, posture shifting marginally. “You turned off the final six seals. You will answer for your ruinous intentions now.”
With a flick of their wrist and a tug of Cyber Space, the world around them shifted. Vast halls of red and gold spread out before them. The blue hedgehog looked around, eyes widening but only a fraction, then settling back to an expression of almost boredom. It irked them, it fanned the flames higher, and reduced just to their Koco, they called forth warriors once upon a time designed by Gk-kil, which turned to the hedgehog immediately.
Some part of them knew, knew that if this hedgehog had defeated their Titan, had gutted it with such ease, basic sentries such as these would not pose a challenge, but they wanted to see. Because who else would aid The End, if not someone whose first instinct was to destroy, was to break and main and dismantle and–
“...you remind me of my friend.”
For a moment, his words completely derailed their train of thought. For a moment, they knew not what he was speaking off. Friend? A creature such as him had friends?
…no, of course he had friends. He was not of the islands, he must have led a life somewhere. They prodded the collective for information, only snippets, they wanted to form their own opinion on him, and got the answer they wanted:
Amy Rose. A friend. Love in her every word and admiration in eyes a forest green to the boy's electric shade before them. She reminded the collective of them.
So then it wasn't some ploy to throw them off. It was a genuine observation.
Still they said nothing, even if they could not fathom how someone who would have any resemblance to them, who would hold any amount of love for the world, could possibly love someone like him so unconditionally.
"I…" He continued, as he dodged away from the field of battle. They watched him with a frown. Coward he was, not even facing the challenge head on, not even granting them the chance to see the force that had destroyed what they worked so hard for. "…I think I get it."
Get it? No. He got nothing. Someone who willingly released The End as he did, and then believed himself above punishment did not "get it". They doubted he could, or that he would.
"Cease your talking and fight." They ordered, and they did so because they wanted to hear no more. They didn't want a single part of this. Didn't want to hear whatever sweet lies The End's pawn would have to offer. They could still hear The End. They had never forgotten that voice, or forgotten the remains of the people it wore as its guise. They knew it had an infuriating way with its words, of sounding impartial and above it all and malevolent and indifferent all at once. They did not want to hear what he had to say.
The hedgehog looked at them. Met their gaze. And they were, in that moment, taken aback by the sharpness of that gaze, which had only moments ago looked like a mere shell, an empty nothing even in unfamiliar alien biology.
"You… you loved your people. They were your everything. You had all this love you needed to share, and you couldn’t have shared it all even if you tried."
They frowned, at his soft voice. They had told him this, these were their words spat back at them. And no doubt, to a degree, he was really talking about his friend and not about them, since they reminded him so much of her, evidently.
"A-And you loved everyone, you loved them so much, so when The End came back, and the first attacks happened… it hurt."
The fury sparked brighter in them. Indignation. Empty condolences, is what this was. Trying to feel sorry for them, for what they'd lost. The friends they had lost to The End, back in their planet and then in their new home. The people, the connections, the life, and everything they had built. Their dream for a family of their own one day. E'n-ar. Gk-kil. Qh:ila. They had lost so much, not just in their first attacks, they lost so much until the island was empty and none of them remained, and the fact that he dared try to sympathize—
"Cease your talking and fight."
He still wasn't fighting. He had delivered not a single blow, and his time was running out. They were starting to get frustrated. Desperate. They wanted to at least see the monster at work. Wanted to see how he had done it, what kind of person it took to free The End, what kind of power it was that they had been unable to prepare for—
"You lost them. You lost them, and so you tried to stop The End, and while trying to stop The End, you lost your friend." He continued. He refused to fight. He refused to fight. He just evaded blows, did it almost like a dance. They watched but for some reason did not force his hand. They watched and weren't sure why they listened, because this was generic, anyone could tell them this and get a rise out of them, there was nothing personal about his conclusions, nothing monumental about what he was saying. Nothing. Of course they lost E'n-ar, but The End could have easily told him that. Told him it killed fae, took fae as a consolation price for being sealed.
"You sacrificed so much to stop The End. And you did it without complaining, even though it hurt, it hurt because you loved them all so much.”
He didn't know that. He didn't know that. They couldn't let him get to them.
"You could not possibly know." They spat. They could not let him. "Fight. It is all you can do. So fight."
He didn't. He looked them in the eyes, and in that moment, they knew he refused to fight.
A… pacifist. For what cause? What use did it serve now? After everything was done?
"I came and I tore it all down." He started, with a certainess, a degree of honesty in his voice that caught them off-guard. "I messed up. I freed The End. I undid all your hard work. I messed it all up, I doomed us all, and that can’t be forgiven. I know."
They drifted backwards, and stared at him. Felt as if they were seeing him for the first time, because never had they expected him to… to admit. To commit. He didn't beg for forgiveness as he claimed for responsibility, and that threw them for a loop even more. Can't be forgiven. Said with such certainty, with an understanding of their anger that left them feeling raw, exposed, and they watched, they listened as he approached.
“But you gotta understand, I did it because of my friends. For the same reason you gave everything for your whole world, I freed The End because it was the only way I knew I could save my friends. They are my whole world, sometimes. I know how much it hurts to watch it all burn because it’s all I’ve done. Over and over. I gave everything I could to save them, and it wasn’t enough. I doomed us all, instead. I unleashed something that would take far more than these islands could ever take from me. The End is out there, and it is my fault, and if you never stop hating me, it’ll be too soon.”
If you never stop hating me, it'll be too soon.
That statement is like a jolt of electricity. That statement is no longer an admission of guilt. That statement is a welcoming of punishment, of hate, of mistreatment, and curse their concern, they could never stand to see people think of themselves so lowly.
So they reached out to the collective. Asked for information, finally willing to listen.
It slamed into them like a tidal wave.
Small boy. Frail boy. Broken boy. Hope, his name was to them. Their Hope, even as he marched to free The End, his friends' Hope. He was telling the truth. For a month and more he slaved to save them, carried the burden placed on his shoulder by The End's command in order to release them, refused to bend or buckle or break so long as his friends still needed him, so long as he could still breathe. He marched to his death willingly without fully understanding it was not only his end which he was setting into motion. Burdened boy. Guilty boy. Innocent boy.
But just that. A boy.
A child.
A hero.
They stare at him, and they see him for what he is.
“But there’s still a chance."
He is broken. His body is beaten up far beyond what his species is meant to handle. He is breaking as he speaks, a slow degradation that will end him sooner rather than later.
"You were happy to give everything for your people, and guess what? So am I."
And yet he still smiles at them. They know now of the pain he carries inside. Of the way he regards himself and holds himself and they ache for him as their anger melts away. They watch memories from the collective of this boy stumbling through Kronos and Ares and Chaos and Rhea, pushing himself to his limit but never once stopping, so long as someone remained to be saved.
They cannot deny, they would have once pushed themselves so, for the ones they love.
"I’m happy to give everything to make sure everyone is saved. I’m happy to give myself up."
Like E'n-ar. That is who this boy reminds them off. E'n-ar. With faer Heart of gold and Koco of leaves. Humble and loyal to a fault. They can almost imagine, that if they had met E'n-ar earlier, if they had known faer when fae was young, this was maybe what fae would have been like.
"I tore down the walls, and I’ll tear down The End with my bare hands to compensate, if that’s what it takes." And now he looks to them with eyes so sincere, and they cannot help but marvel, at the sheer emotion within them. It is not unlike he has awoken. Like he was in a trance before. Like he wasn't there. From the memories they parse, they can figure the sheer toll his journey has taken on him can explain it with ease.
"But I can’t… I can’t do it. Not as I am now. I’m not strong enough. I need your help. Please.”
Please.
In that moment, they are back, millennia ago, beside their Elder, with E'n-ar and Gk-kil and Qh:ila. Before their Master al'KiL-La:t, who regards them all. The Master al'Kil-La:t was famously prideful, even if smart. Ve was respected despite vis shortcomings, and was a fearsome leader without debate. So then, to be before ver, to stand before the Master al'Kil-La:t and hear:
Our people need you. I need you. Please.
…it had drilled it in. They were in it now. It was serious, and they could not back out. Not only did their people rely on them: anyone beyond them, anyone who might also become a target for The End, they relied on them.
Please.
They dismissed the hall, and the sentries. They regarded the boy before them.
Here he was. Here he was carrying the fight that took four of them and the work of thousands upon thousands of others to carry the first time. And now it was only him. The weight of this world and countless others set on his tiny shoulders. His friends were around, they knew, but they also knew, as they watched him, that whatever weight they didn't have to take, he would not give.
He stood a chance. He was a Glimmer of Hope. But on his own he could not shine.
"…I see now." They started, as they walked towards him, as they met his gaze and saw in it, beyond what he showed, pain multiplied thousandfold for every mile he had walked alone. "You went to extremes to protect the ones you love."
And he kept doing so, now, as they kneeled before him, and cupped his face like they once would have done with the children they taught. Ran a finger through his quills gently like they would have caressed the eli-ee of a child of their own species. Beneath their touch they felt Cyber Energy spike up at their presence. They could guess the discomfort that would bring him.
"…You fight against your corruption now for their sakes."
Their hand came away covered in loose quills. Discolored. Brittle. They felt as if that was not normal, and trusted their gut on this. He was sick. It was another sign. He was a child.
They ached for what they were about to do, but they had no choice.
Send a child to war.
"I can respect that."
Now they understood what the collective saw. Felt. There was this overwhelming urge to take him. Take him from this world as one of their own. Adopt him into their midst and educate him in their customs and in their traditions and hail him as a hero, and in cross-civilization meetings that had not happened since they had had to flee, boast about him but also shelter him. A collective urge to give him the best they had once had to offer.
But they could no longer offer that. They could no longer do that. Their time had gone long before his had come. They had nothing to offer him aside from empty islands which had already been used to torment him. No. They could not keep him, could not compensate him as they wanted.
They reached out. Gently, placed a hand on his chest. They would offer what they could. What he needed. Even if it ached them to do so.
"Take my blessing." They told him, shifting the Cyber Energy within him in ways only they remained preserved enough to remember. "And use it to defend all that you love."
They removed their hand. Regarded him one last time. He was no bigger now than he had been moments before. He remained a child, but one a step closer to fighting a war.
They let the Cyber Space fade away around him. Offered a nod, and watched him go.
A blessing of love. It was all they could do.