Paenitete
“Fiammetta?”
“Leggera?” she sharply cracks, “It’s five in the morning. You should be asleep.”
“I could say that about you,” I sigh, stepping next to her on this balcony.
The air is mild, not like the bitter winter around Rhodes Island. A thin breeze drifts through my hair and singular braid while it tosses Fiammetta’s feathers and hair about.
Ahead, the entire city. It’s quite and still, yet the towers of white, glass, and holy architecture fill the view. Very few buildings still have their lights on, but nonetheless, even in the night. the city still lives.
“I’m fully dressed,” she starts, “You’re still in a tee and shorts.”
“Fia, what’s up?” I push.
“Nothing, nothing,” she whispers, resting her head on her hand.
But she doesn’t turn to me. She simply stares into the night, to the twin moons, ahead and to nowhere.
Even her breath is… incredibly still.
“C’mon.”
“Fuck, what is it?” she grumbles, “I’m fine. It’s… fine.”
“Alright. Spit it out,” I yawn, “Or I’ll just make you-”
“Seriously, Leggera, fuck off, I’m fine,” she hisses, snapping around to me and jabbing a finger inches from my face.
“There are bags under your eyes,” I state, unflinching, “Something’s on your mind. Spill it already.”
“… God,” she sighs, shutting her eyes as a tremendous weight plummets off her shoulders, “I’m telling you, it’s… it’s fine. I’m fine, it’ll be fine. Just go back to sleep.”
“No,” I set, glaring at her, “You’re… You’re not fine. Something’s on your mind. Just tell me… You don’t have to see me as… a student anymore.”
“Really… Do you want to know?”
“Is that even a question? You’re being a real pain in the ass right now… I’m asking, so I want to know, both as a friend that deeply cares about you and as the friend that anchored my sister.”
“Fuck off,” she chuckles, spinning her eyes away before setting them back on me, “Sorry for-”
“It’s fine,” I wave, “Hey, we’re both angry shitheads.”
“Got that right,” she grunts, whacking me in my machine arm, “Fuck you and thank you.”
“Hah, didn’t hurt~”
“Of course it didn’t dipshit.”
“Alright alright alright,” I grumble, “What is it?”
“You really ready? It’s… such a dumb thing. God you’re gonna kill me after I said that…”
“Only one way to find out,” I shrug.
“It… It’s about Nerina,” she forces out, instantly turning away and gripping the railing.
Her curling fingers burst with anger and shame, crushing the line of steel so much so I’m afraid she’s about to snap it into twigs.
“N… Nerina?”
“It’s nothing that major, really. Fuck. It’s just… she’s going to… die.”
“That weight finally coming down on you?”
“Yep,” she sighs, staring into the moons, “I can’t imagine what you feel. After setting down your squad, you still have one more person to lay.”
“… Never thought about it like that.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. Too much recently… too damn much,” she whispers, shaking her head, “Keeps me up. A lot.”
“Now I feel kinda bad that I’m not.”
“Better that way,” she swats, “You deserve proper rest.”
“I mean, so do you.”
“Ha, yeah…”
“She means a good bit to you doesn’t she?”
“She was the first person I… trusted with that Kazdel disaster,” she coughs, “When she first showed up at Rhodes Island and the Doctor had me look after her for a bit, well her combat prowess shocked me. But I noticed her mental state wasn’t… great.”
“She jumped off the landship…” I drag out, words turning to air.
“Yep. Told her straight on… are you okay? Asked her. She just smiled, said she was fine. And then the Doctor called me; she’s gonna jump! I’ve never felt a freezing terror as sudden as that ever before.”
“I… can imagine.”
“As her older sister, you feel that a lot, don’t you?”
“I suppose… In combat, nowadays. Anytime. She does anything mildly dangerous, my nerves are jumping.”
“Was that the only incident she told you about?”
“There… was another one?”
“’Course she didn’t,” she lowly starts, “Long story short, she almost wandered off into the Iberian ocean. Giving herself to th-”
“What?!”
“Yeah… Ezell dragged her out. Another heart attack, but hey, she’s alive now. Much better too.”
“Yeah, definitely…”
This… stupid girl…
“And now… yeah, I don’t know. Never had to lose someone close to me that I knew. It’s scary. When I saw Lemuen after that…”
“I know. And it doesn’t get any easier,” I mutter.
“Still… ten years for her? Fifteen?”
“Still a good while.”
“Not enough,” she sighs, shaking her head, “God damn it…”
“How long?”
“Hm?”
“How long has this been in your mind?”
“The past week… I tend to just imagine what my life would be without Mostima. Or Lemuen. Or you. The Doctor.”
“What did you see?”
“Everything I fear, you could say. Abandonment. Betrayal. Death. All of it in just… not dreams, but just imagined scenarios. Reminds me of what Giocatore showed me.”
“Showed you?”
“We were sparring and he hit me with his Arts.”
“Ah… Good God, you could’ve died!”
“He’s not that stupid,” she chuckles, then blinks “He’s pretty stupid with Aefanyl, but yeah. That’s… everything, I guess. Nerina’s gonna die, and I can’t seem to deal with it even if it’s just in the future and unstoppable. How do you fight it?”
“I… don’t know. I try not to think about it,” I softly elaborate, “But it’s… always in the back of my mind. That my sister that I found after so long and try so hard to protect… is just going to melt between my fingers again…”
“Going… going…”
“… Gone.”
“You… didn’t have to finish that…”
“Someone has to.”
“She’ll see the end to her own story,” Fiammetta sternly states, turning to me, “And she doesn’t need you to be her shield… at least not anymore, and not all the time.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“Hey Leggera?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck you,” she laughs, whacking me in the arm, “Ow- Shit!”
“Dumbass, that’s metal!”
“I know that! God…”
“Did you actually break a finger?” I quickly ask, concerned.
“No, no, just… Ow…”
“Pfftt…”
“Bastard.”
“Me? Oh, my bad, slicing my damn arm off.”
“Hah, you’re a crazy bitch.”
“So are you. Now go to sleep!”
“I’ll try, fine,” she yawns, walking back, “I wonder how Ezell’s dealing with it.”
“I trust him,” I nod, “If he can drag Nerina out of the abyss, he can hold himself.”
“I damn hope so.”
ʚїɞ
“Good gods,” Closure cries, staring at PT, “The fuck?”
“Emperor’s Blade,” Raidian shrugs, stepping into the workshop.
“Emperor’s Blade?!” Feist shrieks, dropping a wrench, “Ah! The spanner!”
“Here,” I say, lifting the tool just a second before it collides with the ground, “Yes, a Blade.”
“You won?” Mechanist chuckles, shoving a piece into PT with a sharp click, “Of course you did. Wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”
“Barely,” I state.
“Win’s a win,” Closure shrugs, “Right, that should be the last of the repairs?”
“Added a small reactor and communications upgrades,” Feist lists, “Later courtesy of Miss Raidian.”
“That sounds good.”
“PT-7274, activating,” it blares, eye sparking to life, “Pilot.”
“Hello.”
“Protocol Three: protect the Pilot, fulfilled.”
“Is there a particular reason why my title is ‘Pilot’?”
“I cannot tell you yet, but you pilot this hull.”
“I suppose that works… Why can’t you tell me?”
“A predetermined order administered by my creator.”
“Who made you…?”
“A Sarkaz engineer. She stated to hide her identity until ‘the time was right.’”
“Cryptic.”
“It appears so.”
“You two have quite the dynamic…” Closure teases.
"Dynamic?" Mechanist scoffs, "You should see him and Logos. There's never a dull moment when they decide to pull a show in the canteen."
“True. This machine... it’s simply my weapon. As am I.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I exist to fulfil Rhodes Island’s will.”
“You don’t have dreams?” Feist blinks, wiping the sweat from his brow, “Nothing you wanna do in the future? Places to see or things to do?”
“I’ve never thought about it.”
“Lightfall,” Aefanyl suddenly cuts as he throws the workshop open, “A moment.”
“Of course. Thank you for the repairs.”
“It’s nothing~” Closure sings, “Just don’t break it!”
“I’ll try.”
I wander off to the Banshee as we step out and begin meandering the halls.
“What is it?” I ask.
“The Doctor’s been thinking about your wish to explore the blacksite again,” he starts, “As have I. Considering Waterlily’s condition however, I find it difficult to authorize.”
“I understand.”
“I do apologize for the inconvenience this causes,” he adds as we cross into the Doctor’s office, “But what we’ve deduced from Waterlily’s symptoms and the descriptions you gave us has caused us to make that choice.”
“But I do have a compromise,” the Doctor raises, spinning around on her chair and stopping it when our eyes meet, “Logos will go with you. She will stay here as I monitor her further.”
“You know what we’re facing, don’t you?” he asks.
“I know it, but their title escapes me.”
“Collapsals,” the Doctor sets.
Recollection brings ruin.
“… I hear it.”
Life, death… A cycle.
Futility in existence.
Seek nihility, seek divinity.
“They are speaking nonsense,” I declare, shutting my eyes, “My prior duties focused on destroying all of these demons, I’ve hypothesized, hence why I feel drawn to the blacksite. There’s an artificial intelligence within my mind reinforcing this duty. I also hope it may unveil some of my past.”
Pushing my eyes open, the walls suddenly burst with blood. Rivers of red, oceans of free life, soaking the steel and surroundings with a most shimmering hue of ruby. Tendrils of putrid amalgamations spew from the cracks and seems, twisting in most inhuman ways with claws and tentacles, snapping, snatching, attempting to impale those before me.
Yet my mind is stagnant and still, like frozen time.
Squinting slightly, I shake my head and sigh.
“The walls are running with blood and there are sinister trees sprouting from nothingness. Yet I don’t feel fear. I simply acknowledge it.”
“I suppose you already know how to deal with them then,” the Doctor goes on, “That’s one part of your memory that’s intact?”
“Less memory, more instinct.”
“Instinct…” Aefanyl murmurs.
The vines of red decay into mist and nothingness, leaving a trace of their former selves like a husk of humanity in its wake. Those heinous tendrils fade away like extinguished candles.
“I am more concerned about Waterlily,” I state, “Her mind is volatile, or once was, from what I’ve observed.”
The Doctor peers at me with a blank look, blinking once.
“Precisely why she won’t be going with you to the blacksite,” she goes on.
“I assume she won’t be happy with that decision.”
“She never is,” Aefanyl shrugs, “Her sense of duty blinds her safety. As your captain, she does harbour a stiff sense of responsibility for you all, safety and otherwise.”
“I see.”
“I do have one more thing for you,” he continues, taking out a small pendant, “It’s inscribed with some protective spells, specifically against the corruptive effects of the Collapsal.”
“Thank you,” I reply, receiving the gift and fastening it around my neck.
“Don’t rely on it though. It’s more of a precaution.”
“Of course.”
“Here’s the formal operation details,” the Doctor firmly starts again, “We’ve pretty much confirmed that there’s Collapsal influence in the blacksite. Unfortunately, that site’s been there for some number of years, allowing the corruption to permeate into the ground. If it touches the soil, Victoria’s doomed. Judging by the fact it’s still intact, it’s safe to assume the bottom layers of the blacksite are incredibly resilient materials.”
“Right.”
“So I’m sending you and Logos into there to destroy whatever remnants exist. After that, purge it from this plane of reality.”
“Dimensional erasure of that scale…?”
“Logos can handle it. You’ll aid in a little. And only the parts that’s been corrupted, so I’d say… the bottom half of the bunker?”
“Right.”
“That should be all then,” she finishes, rising from her desk and sliding her helmet off, “And one last thing. Both of you.”
“Yes?” Aefanyl says, fingers resting still on his bone pen.
“What is it?” I inquire.
“Be careful. And come back alive.”
“I will try.”
“That’s not an option,” she seethes, slamming her hands into the table, staring into it a pen clatters to the ground.
Her gaze lingers downwards for a few seconds, searing a piercing fury through it before her head sluggishly, painfully, and devotedly cranes towards my eyes.
Her silver windows, one scarred and the other pristine, bore into my soul, a sundering glare dividing devotion and safety.
“You will come back to me, to us, alive. I will not… lose any more Operators or Elites. Do you understand, Lightfall? Your life isn’t to gamble.”
“… I understand, Doctor.”
“Good. And this won’t be the last time we have this talk. Dismissed.”
ʚїɞ
“Mm…”
Cecelia blinks as she rolls over in her bed. The golden sunlight spills through a tiny gap in the curtains as Ezell smiles right in her view.
“Morning,” he grins.
“Oh… Morning Ezell!” she grins, sitting up in an instant.
“Y’know what day it is today?”
“Uhm… No?”
“Weekend,” he hums, “Fiammetta and I are off for today, so let’s get some sweets.”
“Ah! Okay!”
The two quickly dress as the girl blasts out the door and straight into the streets as the Executor’s left chasing after her, attracting the mild amusement of some passing Sankta and Liberi.
“Oh, hey,” Fiammetta waves, “Cecelia!”
“Hi Miss Fiammetta!”
“Oh, wait-!”
The young girl leaps up with unexpected joy and force, pouncing into the air into the phoenix as she hastily yanks her into her arms.
“Cecelia! Don’t do that!”
“Hehe… fun!”
“Well…”
“Apologies,” Ezell gasps, finally catching up, “Cecelia, don’t go jumping into people’s arms…” he sighs, plucking the giggling Sankta off.
“B-But Nerina let’s me do it all the time!”
“Fiammetta is not Nerina…”
“Hmph… Well I missed Fiammetta!”
“Sweet girl,” she hums, “Right, where we off to?”
“Candy,” he shrugs, “Should get something for Nerina.”
“Vanilla cheesecake,” Fiammetta notes.
“She’d love that one…”
The glistening rays pour their way onto the pristine streets of Laterano. Glass, quartz-toned walls, and an unfettered sky of turquoise dresses the day. Towering buildings of white, angels everywhere, Gun Knights snoozing away and snack carts rolling all about. The occasional explosion echoes throughout the city only to be met with laughter and cheers by some others.
“That never gets old,” Ezell yawns, sipping on some coffee.
“Never really let go of that habit,” she chuckles.
“No, not really. Just gets me through the day.”
“It tastes really bad…” Cecelia whines.
“You shouldn’t be drinking this!”
“W-Well I-I tried some…”
“Mm… no more. Then you won’t grow tall!”
“Ah?! O-Okay then…”
“How’s Nerina doing?”
“She’s doing fine,” Ezell grins, “I do miss her presence though.”
“Work’s work unfortunately,” she shrugs, “Is that Lemuel…?”
“And Leggera,” he squints, “Ah, they’re… blowing up a pillar.”
A deafening explosion follows a few seconds later as the two cackle away before sprinting off somewhere.
“Laterano,” Fiammetta states slightly softly as a stray rock bounces off her coat, “Nothing quite like it.”
“There!” Cecelia points, “Cotton candy!”
“Alright let’s get some then,” Ezell hums, striding over to the cart as the girl bounces along, hand in hand with his.
“Morning you two! May the Law bless your days,” a Sankta bows, “What can I get for you?”
“H-Hey!” Cecelia grumbles, jumping up.
“Oh, my, sorry! I didn’t see you there,” the man chuckles, sticking his head over the cart, “What can I get this adorable angel?”
“U-uhm… t-the blue one!” she points.
“Here you are~” he sings, handing the gargantuan tuff of cloud-like candy to Cecelia.
“Wah! Thank you!”
“You’re welcome! Would you like anything?” he asks, raising his gaze to Ezell.
“Mm… Pink please.”
“I won’t have anything,” Fiammetta shrugs.
“Right away sir, here you are!”
“Thank you,” he nods, handing over some payment before waving goodbye.
“This is so good!” she giggles, nibbling a massive chunk out of her treat as the cloud melts in her mouth.
“Is it now…” Ezell murmurs, diving into his, “Yes, it is.”
“Fiammetta, have some!” she offers, tearing a piece with her hand and pushing it towards her.
“Hm? Oh, sure. Thanks,” she gently says, grabbing that tuft.
“Well?” Cecelia blinks, staring up at her with wide eyes.
“It’s good. Sweet, fluffy.”
“See!”
“Never doubted you,” Ezell chuckles, ruffling her hair.
“Hehe~!”
“Right, where to now?”
“Ice cream!”
Fiammetta’s eyes very slightly drift towards him, sparking with interest or something along those lines. However faint it is, it’s still there.
“What type?”
“Mm… soft serve… I haven’t had that in a while!”
The Liberi’s gaze now turns fully, neck almost snapping over but just slow enough that one could mistake it for a passable glance.
“Sounds good,” she voices.
“Let’s go!”
And in an instant, Cecelia rockets down the streets with a partially eaten cotton candy stick tightly in her hands. Her cloak and hair flap wildly as her hearty healthy laughs echo down the streets.
“God damn it!” Fiammetta groans, immediately sprinting after.
“It’s just like the Summit again,” Ezell sighs playfully, lunging ahead, “Don’t worry, she won’t go far.”
“I hope. Nerina’s gonna lose it if something happens to her.”
“And so will I.”
“Everyone will.”
The child blazes through the streets cackling away as passing pedestrians leap away in shock only to be blasted past by an Executor and a Liberi bearing a coat of the Lateran sigil.
Just a child having a fun time, they think.
And indeed, she is, sprinting, leaping, laughing and crying to the skies. Free, as children should be, without that plague of a memory and experience haunting her mind.
“Got ya!” Ezell chuckles, snatching her by the waist and lifting her up into his arms.
“Aaahh! Y-you’re so fast!”
“Don’t go running off…” Fiammetta sighs, panting just the slightest bit.
“B-But ice cream!”
“Still… better you’re safe. Imagine how angry Nerina would be if you tripped and scrapped your knee. Or Ezell.”
“N-Nerina won’t get angry… She’s very kind!”
“Well… she’d be very sad.”
“Ah… T-Then I won’t! S... sorry…” she whimpers.
“It’s alright,” Ezell assures, hugging her a bit closer, “Just be safe.”
“Okay!”
“We’re almost there,” Fiammetta notes, nudging her head towards a parlor with a fair crowd, “Quite the line.”
“Worth it!” Cecelia cheers.
“It will be,” he nods.
A small wait later, the three emerge with little cups filled with a frosted, sweet and delectable treat. Fiammetta stares towards a strawberry flavoured scoop, Cecelia digs through a chocolate one, and Ezell gently spoons his way through vanilla.
“Ooh… Roof!”
“You wanna go to the roof?” Fiammetta asks.
“Yes! I want to feel the wind and breeze… and sing!”
“Nerina would love that,” Ezell smiles as the three meander up.
“Stairs…” Cecelia mutters.
“I’ll carry you,” he chuckles, yanking her back up, “Fiammetta?”
“Right,” she nods, taking the desert.
“Woah! T-Thanks…”
“Here we go.”
A flight of stairs onwards, upwards to heaven, to light.
“The ground… is getting further…” Cecelia gasps, peering over the edge.
“Yes, it is. How high are we going, Fiammetta?”
“Dunno. That balcony,” she points, “You up for it?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I want to!” Cecelia giggles, “Let’s go!”
“The child gets what she wants,” Ezell laughs, “Up!”
More flights, like scaling the spire to the stars. Higher and higher they climb, two angels and a phoenix waiting to spread her wings. Smaller buildings fall away as those daring to scrape the clouds come just inches closer to them. Beneath, the busy, bustling flow of Santka and Liberi floating to and fro, like rivers of humanity ebbing and waning.
After a fair effort, their destination’s been reached. A public balcony with many filtering people, laughing and chatting away. In a far corner, an empty bench, to which the three quickly relinquish.
Fiammetta throws herself down in an instant as Ezell carefully sets Cecelia down. The girl leaps up and climbs into the bench with a slight struggle as her caretaker laughs, setting himself gently down.
The sun seems ever closer, blessing them with its warmth. A lightly clouded sky fills their view from edge to edge as the sprawling angelic city stands in front of them, a beacon of peace and prosperity amid the hellstorm of Terra. The scent of utmost pure air wafts about, an atmosphere of gentle jubilation and soothing peace, and a wonderfully gentle breeze throwing hair and clothes just the slightest amount.
“This is so cool!” Cecelia giggles, kicking her feet about as she scarfs the rest of her ice cream, “Uwa… C-Cold…”
“Well… maybe don’t eat ice cream that fast…” Fiammetta sighs before teasingly grunting.
“I-It tastes good!”
“That’s very true,” she nods, eating just a spoonful of hers.
“You seem… calm,” Ezell notes as Cecelia rests herself into him.
“Hm? Do I?”
“Yes. I can tell,” he lightly says, “It’s the same with the Doctor. I don’t need my empathy to know that she’s feeling happy or enjoying herself at any given moment.”
“With Nerina?”
“More so,” he gives in, blushing just the slightest, “I can take one look at her. Body posture, facial expression… I can read her so easily. And so can she. It’s… really nice to gaze at her and feel warmth in an instant. And when she gazes back…”
“Hehe… cute…” Cecelia lets out, nibbling away.
“Truly an angel,” Fiammetta goes on, finishing her ice cream.
“Have you been getting enough sleep?” he asks, glancing over, “There’s dark rings beneath your eyes.”
“Eh, neither here nor there. Work’s a pain.”
Ezell’s eyes flick left, then right, before gazing down to Cecelia.
“Ooh…” she randomly announces, tossing herself off and walking up to the towering glass barrier of the balcony, “Woah…”
She plants her face entirely against the glass, gently laughing to herself as she stares below, across, and all around, eyes filling with wonder.
“Guess that problem solved itself,” Fiammetta whispers, “Yeah, no. Just a small thing,” she shrugs.
“Are you comfortable telling me?” he quietly replies.
“I mean it’s nothing that big. It’s just me realizing, slowly, that Nerina’s… well, going to die far before any of us.”
“… Right.”
“I kinda feel shitty telling you about it. After all, she loves you,” she goes on, eyes secretly flicking to him, “How do you feel about it?”
“It’s just something… I have to deal with and work with,” he sighs, “I can’t imagine how Cecelia feels about it. Seems like she’s accepted it. I have too. But I made a promise. And I’m not breaking it.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“I promised I’d make her as happy as I can for as long as she has left to live… and all in return is that she tries to do the same. She’s held that and so have I. I just wish… she could visit sometimes.”
“Maybe in a few weeks,” she shrugs, “Almost March.”
“Leggera’s birthday would be a good time to go.”
“That’s a good point.”
“Right! Ah, I do hope that…”
“Hm?”
Ezell pauses for a moment, blinking once while watching Cecelia continue to press her entire body further into the glass.
“Hah… I hope one day Nerina gets to see the holy city again.”
“Would she even want to?”
“Well… There had to be some good memories here. At the very least, I’d like her to visit Cecelia’s mother. And she’d want to visit her sister’s fallen friends.”
“… I see.”
“The flowers at the Ecclesia Requietum… she’d love all of those.”
“I do think she would too.”
“You are happier here,” he chuckles.
“What? Really,” she blinks, “Screw off,” she grunts, shoving him in the arm.
“That’s why you wanted to come along? Let your mind off things?”
“Sure, yeah.”
She pauses, letting her breath worm its way through her body and out again before staring into the sky.
“… Yeah. I did.”
“It’s hard for you to admit things.”
“Mm. You could say that.”
“That’s alright… It was the same for Nerina. Not saying you have to change.”
“Yeah, I get it. But, well… Thanks.”
“Hm?”
“Thanks for dragging me out here. Eating soft serve ice cream on a balcony of Laterano… Watching that damn child do whatever she’s doing,” she points, “Perfect way to spend an afternoon.”
“Then I’m glad,” he nods, “You’re welcome. C-Cecelia! Don’t lick the glass…”
“I’m not!” she whines, pouting just the slightest.
ʚїɞ
“Miss Bagpipe?”
“Oh? Ah, Waterlily! It’s been quite a while!” she cheers, propping up from the fields.
“It has been,” I chuckle, fixing my hair, “How’s things been?”
“Awh, quite the regular. Nothin’ terrible, nothin’ amazin’. The plants here all doin’ good too!”
“That’s good to hear!”
“Ain’t it! Ah, you’re an Elite now?”
“Y-Yes, but don’t… It’s more of a symbol of will than status,” I shyly admit.
“Oh I quite understand dear,” she laughs, sitting down on a bench, “How’s you’ve been?”
“Good! Lots of things happened… But it’s in the past now. I think things are a lot better for me,” I grin.
“That’s great! Here, take a seat! Been a good bit.”
“Alright~” I hum, tossing myself down, “Quite the harvest.”
“Yep. It’s cold, so Rhodes Island needs at least some vegetables to keep going.”
“Potatoes…”
“You remember!”
“A-Ah, yes, I’ve been catching up with studies now that I have a bit of free time,” I blush, “I… got some education in Laterano, but I was working from quite a young age…”
“Sounds unfortunate,” she sighs, “Parents weren’t great, I reckon?”
A flash of that damn Seaborn abomination of Eclissi flashes into my mind. Then a mind-splitting pain of a bullet through my eye. Pain, words, shouting. So loud, so many… so painful memories. Eclissi plotting everything to tear me apart, my sister facing everything else on her own, the hell I spiraled and walked through because of her actions… Victoria. That abuse. Those hellish thoughts from the day I was brought here by Ezell until the day I threw myself to the ocean… and was dragged out. All because… of Eclissi. And my Infection, forced unto me by Falsità… yet he regrets?
“Ah…” Bagpipe lets out, “Sorry.”
“It’s… it’s alright,” I breathe, “It’s… all in the past now.”
“You’re a Sankta right?”
“Yes. Oh, and please… call me Nerina.”
“Ah, Nerina… gorgeous name.”
“T… thank you…”
“Awh, getting’ all shy?”
“W-well y’know what Bagpipe… You’re pretty cute yourself too!”
“Ah… Thank yous…”
“Hah…”
A short silence follows before we both suddenly break into intense and hearty laughter, forcing out some coughs here and there but nonetheless a wonderful little experience.
“Name’s Fiona by the way!” she chuckles.
“Pretty~”
“Oh stop it…”
“Hah, you’re pretty too!”
“Dawh… now you’re just sayin’ things…”
“No, I mean it. A Vouivre, yes?”
“That I am!”
“Strong, gorgeous… Goodness you should have no trouble finding the right person~”
“Aye what made you a little tease?!” she cries playfully, “Someone’s definitely changed…”
“Just some friends~ And yes, I did find someone!”
“That’s amazin’!”
“It is, he’s great, and I love him. Unfortunately, work has him all the way in Laterano, and since I’m Infected, I can’t go there.”
“That’s a drag honestly… What’s up with that? Laterano and everythin’…”
“Holy city,” I gesture widely, “Hates the Sarkaz. Seems like the Sankta are the only ones who get treated as their true citizens. Even the devout Liberi aren’t treated fairly…”
“A paradise for everyone… as long as you’re a Sankta…”
“And not Infected. Or Fallen, like me.”
“Fallen?”
“Broken wings, halo, and dark wings,” I sigh, wings shuddering with my breath, “The ‘price’ for harming another Sankta with our patron guns. This gun I have here,” I groan, yanking it down, “It’s a firearm, but its not one that Laterano gives to you when you’re… twelve. Every bullet is a small Arts unit, and so is each gun. So it’s kinda like… a bunch of tiny staves?”
“Complicated,” she blinks, “I’m not good at any of this… machines or otherwise!”
“Oh that’s very fair,” I chuckle, tossing it onto my back, “Much weaker than my old gun, but it does the job very well.”
“I can imagine… Say, you remind me of someone… An old friend I had back in Victoria.”
“Outcast?”
“By the Queen, you got it,” she claps, “Yes, Outcast. Sweet old Sankta she was… The first I’ve seen. Had a revolver with her. Fantastic soul. Loved playing cards with her all the time…”
“I wish I could’ve met her,” I sigh, “I saw a photo of her and the other Elites. Blaze, Ace, Scout, Logos… They were at a shooting range. Looked like they were having a lot of fun.”
“Aye, Logos… that man and… Ah bollocks, I can’t recall his name! He’s also a Sankta, I think. Got these dark wings, dark halo like a crown or somethin’, real menacing coat and looks, but he means well. An absolute barrel of laughs!”
“Giocatore!” I cheer, “Well, Lightfall’s his codename. Don’t get scared though! He’s… very devoted to Rhodes Island.”
“Oh is that who he is? I see I see…”
“Yes~”
“Aye, I see… Ah, Outcast. She… Y’know Jane? Saileach?”
“Can’t say I have,” I say, shaking my head.
“Another Vouivre. She played lotta cards with Outcast. Helped quite a bit durin’ the whole Victoria mess… She was there too. Outcast, helpin’ deliver medicine, tendin’ to wounded… Eventually, some guy carpet bombed County Hillock with active Originium.”
“W-What?!”
“Yeah, great ol’ disaster. She still wanted to help people, even after that hell. Pulled back the other Operators who were there… and then she got reports that one of our enemy’s supposed leaders had been impaled by an Originium chunk… Guess what she did.”
“Went to help?”
“Yes… she said ‘All I see is an Infected girl needing help.’ Ran into the enemy’s lines, tended her, treated her, handed her off to me, and went to confront the enemy. She destroyed them… but at the cost of her life.”
“Wow…”
“Tell me, Nerina… would you do the same?”
“Hm?”
“If the enemy… was Infected. Their leader, even… would you still try to save them?”
“Of course,” I instantly reply, “It’s… it’s my duty as an Elite of Rhodes Island. To help all Infected, regardless of background. It’s just the… right thing to do,” I smile, retracing Ezell’s words.
“Hah, a heart of gold you have,” she chuckles, patting my shoulder, “Seems like… just a piece of her is always with us.”
“I’ll carry the dream of Rhodes Island as far as I can,” I cement, shutting my eye, “To… protect all that is beautiful in this world.”
ʚїɞ
“Lightfall.”
The Banshee slides open the door to the vacant workshop. Not a trace of the Engineering Department.
I stare up into PT’s dormant eye, observing the mechanized beast kneeling, bowing to me.
“Yes, Logos? I do wonder why we’ve started using codenames again.”
“Mere formality,” he states, footsteps approaching, “Between the Elites, it has become common to simply use codenames. Though, Waterlily uses real names when she feels close enough to people and not in combat.”
“Or tense emotion as I’ve noticed when Ezell’s injured.”
“Precisely.”
“What was it you called me for?” I ask, turning to face him.
His crimson eyes betray no sense of emotion, but the person he is doesn’t reflect that.
“Just to chat,” he shrugs, pulling out the chair, “I’ve seldom had much time, but now with the Victorian disaster resolved, and the Salvezza destroyed… There’s just a little more. Besides, we ought to set the cafeteria alight some time.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Most of your time between the new year and now has been… spent doing what, if I may inquire?”
“Thinking,” I state, “My past… and where it’s gone,” I continue, turning back to PT’s eye, “It… possibly holds answers. It won’t tell me, so I’ll find it myself. You said you’d wait until I found those memories again… I intend to uphold that end of my promise.”
“I do as well. You have my word as you did then.”
“I appreciate it.”
A moment later, the door once again winces open, creaking centimeter by centimeter. Curious to the noise, I shift my attention to it as a silver-haired and green-eyed Feline with a shrunken stature pokes her head in the room.
“Rosmontis?” Aefanyl murmurs, “What is it?”
“Hello…” the young woman whispers, “Blaze told me to… talk a bit more with the others.”
“Hello,” I wave, pulling another chair for her, “Would you like to come in?”
“Alright,” she shrugs, stumbling over with careful movements, “This place… is pretty cool.”
In her arms, she tightly cradles a thick notebook with a pencil attached to the side of it. A second later, she flips it open, starting to scribble away as her curious yet deadpan gaze and eyes absorb all that she sees.
“You…” she murmurs, pointing the pencil to me, “… Are Lightfall.”
“That’s correct.”
“Yes… here I wrote… Waterlily told me about you. And Logos. You’re very devoted, they said.”
“I like to believe I am.”
“Mm… That’s good. You also were on the stage with Waterlily on New Year’s Eve… Blaze was crying a little.”
“Oh was she?”
“Yes. Many of the Elites really loved it. I did too,” she reads, looking up to me every now and again, “It was nice seeing those who… passed again. And so beautifully in a memory like that.”
“Memory…” I linger, eyes drifting away.
Such a volatile thing. So impossibly complex, yet unbearably simple. The holder of the past. Something that the bearer only can see. Yet it can be manipulated, bent even. Erased, overwritten, or suppressed. Something so fundamental… within the hands of another. Life being not your own… My life is not my own.
<Isn’t that right?>
Tension spills across my face as that voice runs along my mind.
“Lightfall?”
“Sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment.”
“Ah… I tend to forget often. That’s why I carry this with me,” she says, shifting her notebook to a new page, “I… like the people around me. The Doctor, Blaze, Logos…”
“That’s nice,” I nod.
The Banshee grants her the smallest of warm smiles too.
“I want to remember them and their names. And my past too… even if it… hurts.”
The past. My past.
… Even if it hurts, I must find it. Remember it, retain it. Because it was… once what I was. And after that, maybe I can finally see the world higher.
“I don’t remember anything about my past,” I explain, “But at the very least, my memories are still intact following some event.”
“Oh,” she blinks, “It’s hard, isn’t it?”
“Yes… To have something that was yours torn away. Memory… is a thing that makes us whole, is it not?”
Then what do I think of myself?
Willing to burn my life away for this landship? It’s dream? And all the people aboard?
Yes, I would. If anything threatened this haven…
… I’d burn it all away until Terra turned to hell.
“A part, I think so yes. Without memory, you don’t have a person. You have… a husk. Empty, without meaning or purpose…”
… Is that what I am then?
“Uh… Lightfall?”
My mind seizes. My body halts.
<Augmented Sankta, P8-621, Anomaly Detected.>
<Reminding you your primary goal…>
<You exist to destroy the demons of the north.>
<Do not forget it. It will always be your primary objective.>
<Surpassing that of your will for this so called ‘heaven,’ you will destroy every inch of them.>
<The collapse cannot spread. It must be annihilated, and only then will your order be complete.>
<Surely you don’t want Rhodes Island to fall to Collapse?>
Then… what after?
<You have no further purpose. No further reason to exist.>
<You exist to destroy. And once there is nothing else to destroy, you no longer need to exist.>
That… doesn’t seem right.
<Right? The only right in this world is securing Terra. Your ‘life’ in exchange for billions.>
That… that is right.
Weigh all of humanity on one end, and my life on the other.
Which way would the scale tilt?
“Lightfall, sit, please,” Aefanyl urges.
Towards humanity. Towards what deserves to exist, deserves to live, and deserves to be protected.
Then I shall do so. Shield Rhodes Island with this pitiful being known as my life.
Until my last breath, until all those demons are nothing but an ancient memory.
I exist to carve a path for others. A finely sharped blade to be used and thrown when dull.
It is clear. I see it.
“Lightfall!” Rosmontis shrieks.
<P8-621, Activating Disciplinary Order.>
And the world is quiet as it soon will be.