The Chains of Others

[DirectorBright]

I know why you hurt.

It is the same reason you don't hurt.

It would be cruel to take it away; it would be cruel to make it stay, no?

It is what binds you together and yet it is what tears you apart.

If it would make it easier, I would untie myself, just to set you free.

But it wouldn't make anything easier, would it?

There's no ground down there, the chains are holding you up.

---

... Seventy years. It goes by a lot faster than you'd think. Not quite there yet, a few more months, I suppose... still. Still. One decade since I've crossed that tipping point, where I've less time left in my life than I have lived. It feels like yesterday. It feels like forever ago. Funny how it works.

I remember a lot of things, you know. Things that some others weren't around for, I guess. I didn't really go looking for anything until I was 38. I don't really regret it, no. If I had stepped into the world sooner, the story would've been different, and I don't think it would have been in a good way. She wouldn't have been as happy, I think. I know. We wouldn't have found each other.

There's no point entertaining hypothetical past timelines. You either tear yourself apart over what you can never have, or eat yourself alive over what you regret.

... where are we, then?
Where every journey ends, of course.
At the beginning.

---

... I remember Arcadia. Before the witch hunts and so on. A farming town. Peaceful. Quiet. Idyllic.

I remember a little girl with pink hair and red eyes, who wanted to be a knight.

I remember a woman of raven locks and garb, mother to many who were lost and abandoned.

I remember a young man in shining white armor, who sought to bring justice to the creatures of night.

I remember a drakanite girl of white hair and blue garb, who sought to heal the wounds of others.

I remember a young boy from the southern sea, who wished to protect the people he loved.

There were more. I remember them too. I remember we made a promise to each other.

I remember four of us, standing in a clinic that wasn't home anymore, and we knew that we would always be kin to one another.

... of those I remember, only two are left with us. The others appear only in my dreams. 

Or nightmares.

I don't forget.

I can't forget.

---

I sleep better these days. I don't see them every time I close my eyes. The ones that are gone, I mean. I don't watch him die, again and again, eyes open or closed. I don't feel the horrible guilt of her end crushing down upon me in agony I can't describe, every second of every day. Part of me wondered, if Grief was love enduring, then if I let go of it... did that mean I didn't love them anymore?

Have I betrayed you, because I no longer cry so often? Because I smile and live on without thinking of you all the time?

I think you'd want that. For me to be happy, I mean. I'm trying. I manage more often than not, these days.

---

It's your fault, you know, that I smile still. You set me up for it. You knew. She and I needed one another, and it was you who put us there, wasn't it? You who kept us there, knowing what we'd do. You, who never turned your back on me, believed in me, no matter what I did. You always thought I was good. You never gave up.

Thank you.

My children are already born, and I wish that you could see them. I wish I could bring them to you, old friend, and tell them stories of when you were young. I wish I could tell everyone who you were and not choke at it, for knowing you aren't here. But you are gone ahead of me. Do you wait for us, my old student? Are you there at the darkened gate, at the end of that tunnel, holding our place in line that we may go together?

I'm sorry, but I'll have to keep you all waiting a while yet. Eternity is short, I've heard. Just as soon as the ties I bound myself to you with turned to anchors, dragging me to the dark, I was...

Your greatest achievement, was fixing a broken heart. Two, really. I can't claim all the credit for it, not when you orchestrated such. You know how happy she makes me. You saw. And you knew, then, if I had something to lose, someone to love unconditionally and with all my heart, someone that would be hurt if I carried on as I had, that I would stop. You knew, didn't you, that I just needed hope? That both of us did. In spite of everything, it worked.

The most bitter part of it all is that you aren't able to see it in full.

This was what I never wanted. You deserved better. It isn't fair that men like me should endure, while men like you die young. Such is the way of the world we live in, I suppose. Yet- I live, and I spend every second of it in her light, and you would be happy to see it.

I made new friends, now. Connected myself to others as time went on. I'll lose them too, eventually. That's just how it is. The world takes pieces of you, bit by bit, the agony grows. The light doesn't chase it away. It just... pulls the other direction. Weight on both ends, and I'm the string. How long before it just snaps in half? It almost did, once. She's alive, though, and I... 

The wounds don't ever really heal, you know. You never stop hurting. You just become numb to it. Get used to it. Adapt to it. You change, and you don't notice it anymore until someone brings it to your attention, but even then it hurts. Even then it aches.

---

I made a promise, to her. To her, the reason I endure. She's everything now, you know. Of course you know. You were the same with your own. Both of us placed our hearts in the hands of another, and neither of us would ever have wanted it any other way. It made us invincible as much as it made us vulnerable. Now, I carry on, because I promised her I would. Things get better. It takes forever, but they do. Time marches on. Life endures. Pain comes again and again, but so does love, if you look for it.

I am tired, old friend. It strikes me now as much as ever. I can't stop now, though. There are still people who need me. She still needs me, as much as I need her. Onwards I go, ever onwards and upwards. Sometimes I wonder what it's all for, if I deserve any of it. But-

You all believed in me.

She believes in me.

He believes in me.

So when you say that I was worth it,
I believe you.

[DirectorBright]

What a lovely egregore you are...

---

Indras is dead.

Hard to believe it's reality. Atrellya is routed and in ruins, though a few remnants remain. Demons all across the land turned back to beasts by the blacklight.
She's free, now... she must be.
She can rest, as she deserves, and walk to her mother in the next life as she promised she would.

It didn't come without a price. Where there were six, there were two. Now there's only one. The last one, who holds my heart together. 
The one who keeps my feet beneath me. The one who keeps me... here.

And the others?

Gone ahead of us, now.

We are defined by the people in our lives.

Tell me about them.

The ones you lost most recent of all.
The ones who were with you the longest.

---

The Knight and The Prince

A long time ago, thirty some years now, there was a girl in Arcadia born to non-magi parents of no renown. A bright child of the pastoral town, of pink hair and red eyes, who aspired to be a knight. Not in service of any nation or crown, but in service of an ideal: The one who slays the monster, the one who saves the prince, the one who protects the good people of the world. Hefting aloft a simple, rusty broadsword, she encountered a pair of adventurers.
A man in black robe and hood, who hid his face and spoke softly. 
A man in shining armor of white, who flickered with light and holy purpose.
Both had come to Arcadia to heal and rest, and having heard her story and seen the state of her equipment, they told her a simple truth: It would not take her anywhere, with an old and rusty thing like that. Yet the two were kind, and forged her weapons and armor of steel, gifting it to her to bear. The girl asked why, and the two said:

Because I want to.
Because you need it.

As time went on, and the girl grew, steel gave way to mythril, and mythril eventually gave way to the golden wool of Arcadia's pastures. The man of light vanished without a trace, as the demonic hordes of the crescent fortress swelled back to strength, temporary peace at their recent defeat fading away. They never found out what happened to him until many years later, that he was slain by those of Atrellya.

The man in cloak and robe searched and inquired for his lost companion, yet found nothing, and in time they accepted that he was not coming back.

Yet in his place, came another. A prince, the same age as the girl, from the warm southern seas of Fortune. Of dark hair and hazel eye, born to royalty, he wished for none of it. He bumped into the girl in the wilderness, and she brought him to Arcadia to rest. The two were fast friends at once, and the man in cloak and robe took to mentoring them as much as he made their gear. They sparred well and often, as he trained them to protect themselves and others alike. In goal, the prince and the peasant were the same, seeking to protect the people they cared about. When wounded, each came to the archnurse, and all of the four steadily became companion to one another.

The prince and squire would go out on adventures, fighting monsters, meeting new people, seeing new places.
When they returned home, the archnurse would treat their wounds while the cloaked man aided, and then he would take them to train and grant them new equipment.
Ages passed, as time went on. They became good friends, every one, along with the Daughter of the archnurse.

The man in cloak was there for much, but not for all, for he was a shrouded thing that did not share his name or face, nor his aspirations. Yet, he was friend to them, in every way he could be, and they were loved as family by him in time. A shroud rent, thread by thread, until one day it was removed entirely, and he stood to be known by them all.
The prince and the knight fell in love, promising to marry one another in a few years, and the others were happy, conspiring between the three to craft special rings for each in time.

And yet- nothing beautiful can last forever. Turmoil struck the town under witch hunting, and the archnurse faced a collar without cause or justification. Disgusted by the brewing schism within, they made a promise to one another: No matter where they went, or what happened, each would be by the other's side; Til the bitter end, they would be one another's keeper. They scattered in part, yet met well and oft.
The Archnurse and the Daughter moved north, to a castle amidst lands of driven snow.
The Prince and Knight, to the southern sea.
And the once-shrouded man, to the castle-city in golden fields.
Yet the man had a secret, finally to share with them, for he could not bear it any longer without their permission. He had studied the darkest of arts, and yet- had been dissuaded from the path by them. For to walk upon that lowest road would be to lose them, to bring pain upon them, and they mattered to him as much as the very breath in his lungs. And so, the path was set down, and left aside, and all was well.
Until a message arrived, from the man, and the archnurse, many years later.

He had, until... the world turned again. When the demons retreated, the nations turned upon one another, and in disgust, he fell from his grace back upon the dark road.
For just as a dog returns to it's vomit, so too does a fool repeat his folly.
In a moment, it came undone, as his confession to the Daughter found the northmen listening, and she was slain upon the streets of that castle before her mother, and the man was set to be hunted.

And yet- the archnurse had written to the man, and sent him warning and notice of his loss. For he loved the daughter as his blood, and grieved heavily in guilt. Though he offered the three his life, they refused, and the Prince took him to a far-away island on the edge of these lands, to hide away with the grieving archnurse until he could find a way to save him. Even so, the man proclaimed he was doomed regardless of action now, and that he would descend... yet...

And yet the Prince remembered the many years of kindness he had shown, and so, he shielded the man regardless. Though he had every reason to destroy him, he could not bring himself to turn against his friend and mentor. And so... quietly, he began to move. The grieving nurse and man were placed together, and with quiet encouragement, found love in one another. With words to the man of the trouble that could be, and by never once having strayed from his graces, the man was persuaded to stay, that not all was lost or terrible indeed. Yet upon a dark path he still walked, and the dead rose to his command despite their urging... though it tested the faith of the prince and knight heavily, neither still were willing to turn upon him.

For the prince still believed he could be saved, having seen the good that remained in him even now, when few others would.

When the nations found him, still the prince stood in their way, authoritative that he was right. And so, turning to the man, he pleaded him to stop, for if he continued descending, the men of gloom and gold would come for the Prince and Knight for having shielded him, and the Archnurse's heart would shatter in the wake of it. He would hurt the family he was trying to protect. And so, the man, with a healed heart and something to lose now, relented, and surrendered himself, in one final act as a necromancer he lured the proclaimed Tal and her followers into his home turned prison, and the forces of the south fell upon her. Though she was not taken, she was wounded, and the man given a second chance.

The Prince had saved his friend, from paths oft beyond any salvation.

Time passed, and the Knight and Prince became King and Queen, bearing rings forged by the man that shone with every hue, the power of each other contained within, and swore upon the blade he forged the day she truly spread her wings. Their children filled the isles, the man was accepted into their kingdom, and worked many years to heal their wounded and scrub at the inerasable sin he bore. For a time, all was right again.

Such never lasts. The world turned again.

For though the man had given up the path of the necromancer, another had taken it up, and set himself against the islands. The winds of death beset the shores of the south, claiming many lives over the years, until finally their captain aimed for the Knight herself. Yet, by the power they held, he was repelled away and wrought low, barely escaping with his life. In celebration, the man and archnurse were wed upon the isles, his dark path shed forever as he walked in the light of faith, and once again, things were well and good. Occasionally there was strife, one of their twins willful and forceful, yet in the end they remained as family, even if tensions rose from time to time.

Yet as we know, the world turns, and evil never rests.

When the western nations struck upon the Archnurse for the sins of the man's past, the Prince, in furious vengeance, set upon the chairman of one of their nations alongside the enraged southeast, and brought him low in single combat, to drag him home. A flashfire, as the western nations targeted the east, and yet the southern sea was kept safe by the threat of the ire of the Prince and Knight. Even so, it was a time of turmoil.

In those years, the captain schemed and slaughtered, and he grew in power. A final push was made, to assail his tower upon the sea, and calm the winds of the south once again. The Knight and Prince, alongside their children and soldiers, pushed upon those shores and sought to bring him low for good... yet not all stories, end the way we wish they could. Though he fought valiantly, and though he was renowned for his strength in both character and battle, his foe had amassed relics to bolster him beyond many men upon the land. The battle was fierce and close, and in the end, when both came down to a single strike...

The Prince fell to the captain's blades.

In his final moments, he did not cry, nor did he wail or weep or beg. He professed his love to his Knight, the Queen, one final time.
And he was gone.

Though grief and horror rocked the islands, and the remaining three grieved immensely alongside his children, evil never rests. The next year, the winds of death once again befell the island, and it seemed certain to the man in his abysmal state that the Knight was sure to follow the Prince into death. And yet, though many had accepted that it may be her end, this time, the hubris of the captain was his undoing, and he met his end upon the shores at the hands of the widowed Knight, and her willful son, alongside old friends of their family.

All the vengeance in the world does not bring back the ones they had lost. And so, though the captain were slain, and the man held a memorial in honor of those lost to these cruel years of rotting winds. A thing that eased the wounds, yet could not mend the absence in the hearts of those who had known the Prince. Though it took many years, the man slowly recovered himself- yet never entirely was the same. Nor was the Knight, for the strain of leadership and all that came with it weighed upon her heavily.

Even these tarnished years could not endure the turning of the world, once again.

The demon king of Atrellya began his invasion in earnest, a clock towards extinction as his armies crept southward. Though the islands were the last to be struck, preparations were still made in order, knowing it was only a matter of time. Yet the invasion moved slow, and men move quickly, and the tensions only grew. For without the Prince, the Knight was tired and worn, the children weighed down by his absence, and the kingdom losing steam. In light of the times, to lift spirits, the kingdom held a gala, and the one who was sent to attack the archnurse brazenly stepped within. Seized by the kingdom's forces, the man rejoiced knowing that one who had brought him torment would face justice. And yet, without the Prince's wisdom, and in the Knight's fatigue, the foe was spared, and the man felt betrayed to his core. Though the Knight apologized, the wound was too deep, and the willful child lashed out upon the man for his anger.

The Prince was gone. The Knight, worn, and wishing to step away from the throne. Though she kept a brave face, she was tired, and no longer so joyous as she once was. It came in quiet hours of the night, and it was plain that she was losing her desire to go on to the man, despite the love that he and the archnurse tried to show. For it was simply a wound too deep to heal. And so, with his reason to remain gone, and in the sting of betrayal, and no trust in the new leaders to be, the man left, and returned to the castle in golden fields.

When the first imperfect aimed to strike at Mestra, the willful child stepped forwards to face down his soldiers, and protect the heavens. For though he was brash and oft abrasive, such a sin would never go unchallenged, and he put forwards his life for a deity he owed no allegiance. Yet once again, the world had turned, and the son was slain by the monsters that were brought to aid this blasphemy. And at this, the Knight was struck again, and grew yet more quiet and tired.

Even this bitter age, did not stop the world from turning again.

And so, finally, the invaders descended upon all Meranthe, and while the demon king's shadow fell across the northland and he himself rampaged, the Sage of Ruin came for her home. The Knight set foot upon the battlefield, alongside her family, soldiery, and a Mercenary who had come to live within her lands. The battle was apocalyptic, and yet, the sage was finally, blessedly slain. The kingdom was saved, to see another day.

Yet it was not without cost. In the battle, a blast of the foulest of the occultic art had swept across the fighters, and sought to unmake many. In her hand, the Knight held an amulet that could warp fate itself, to stave off the end when it otherwise appeared certain. She could endure the strike that aimed for her very soul... but...

She was one who protected the good people of the world.
And so, the amulet's power was aimed not at herself, but upon one of her loyal soldiers, The Rootkeeper, that she may live.
And the Knight, too, was gone.

They are together now, the Knight and the Prince, as they were before.
They hold one another and laugh and smile with their son, wherever they are.
And they are happy.

That is what I remember, of Rio Caldrott Emeraldi, The Maritime Knightess, and Marfons Emeraldi, The King of Fortune.

---

Goodbye, you two.
I'll miss you both terribly.
One day, I will find you again, and tell you all that has happened.
Until then, I will shed my tears, and carry forwards.
I will try to be happy and smile, as you would have wanted to see.
I will never forget you.

Thank you.

[DirectorBright]

You? You don't fight. You run.

---

Back so soon?

It's been a while.
Longer than a little bit.

Things have changed again.
Something good happened... for once.
A lot of good happened.
A lot of fears went unrealized. 

Another link is broken.
Something hasn't changed.
You.
You're still running away from it.
From the pain. From the truth.
You don't want to look at it.
You distract yourself.
You forge new links, take up new chains.
But it doesn't make the broken ones any less real.

Why are you here?
I am happy, now. I am at peace. I have had good days.
I have a granddaughter now, and I love her.
I have a wife still, and I love her.
I have a son and a daughter, and I love them too.
I have good friends as well, so many these days.
And we are happy together, making good memories that are so rare in these lands.
So why have you come back?
Why are you doing this?

I already told you.
You're not listening.
Another chain was severed. Two, were severed.
Instead of grieving, instead of recognizing it, you're running.
You pour tea for your grandchild and pretend everything is fine.
You hide behind a mask of metal and forget yourself.
You don't remember. You don't want to remember. You don't want to think about them.
Because then you would remember that they're not here.
You would remember what is missing.
You would remember what you lost.
And you don't want that, because it would hurt again.
Because you would crumble, and break for a while, and even if that means you might heal...
It would mean that you weren't being useful. It would mean that they'd see you like that again.
A broken, tired old man, crying in the rain again.
And that doesn't help anyone except you. It's self-indulgent.
So you run.
You hide.
You block it all out and don't look back, when people speak her name you flinch and leave.
You can't run from it forever. It's going to hurt you.
It's going to be too much someday if you keep doing this.
Nobody wants to see that happen to you.

Especially not me.

You need to break. You need to crumble. You need to grieve, and weep.
You have to hurt, and heal.
That is what they would want you to do.

... You're right.

---

A long time ago I told you that there were a few people in Arcadia. I told you there were more.

One day, in came a nephilim. Mestran. I wasn't quite sure what she was back then, didn't know enough, but I remember she was hurt. I remember that I could do something about it. I was still in cloak and robe then, and I saw a curse upon a child. A song of despair that was counter to who she was... and so, into her being I wove my own song...

Of despair they had cursed her.

Esto per mortem, Esto per vitam, Recordamini: et uos non fuistis, et creati estis. Prosperitas in Ruinam lunae inruerit et in solitudinem cunctis oppositis eorum. Est divinum, Mortale est, O diabole. Tantum enim qui sub gratia eius sunt vere succedunt, evolvunt

Of hope, I gave her.

Et omnis risu tuum foveam Et respiciens Credam in amore, et vivam Et volo te scire Ego te semper custodiat te claudere et cum cicatricibus tuis, aliud novum, et aliud vetus

---

I'm sorry, I-
I want to keep going. I want to talk more.

But every time I think back
Every time I look,
All I see is them. All I see is... is her.

I can't. I just- The empty ghosts haunt me ever on, every memory every... moment.
I told my granddaughter the story of how I fell in love with my radiant light. It was a good memory, that...
But it's hard to look back, when she's everywhere...
Not the light. Not my radiant... she's- still here. Still with me.
She still holds me when I rest. Still grounds me to this earth.
Still blots out all the world, even now, even twenty five years after I told her I loved her,
All that love has done is grow.
Solace. Rest. Blessed, Beautiful rest.

A happier thought. Even so...
You're still running.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe you're already broken. Fragmented.
You don't have the strength to break any further.
Even so, you have to try.
...
That story isn't about what's really unmaking you, is it?

No.
It's just one grain of sand atop a heap.
One more stone upon my chest.
One more ounce of lead upon my heart.
But I can't think back, don't you see?
When every time I look, I see Her.
The Knight.

Even if I miss dear Gwynny terribly...
Even if her death was something that eats at me.
Even if it truly drags and weighs on me...
It's not what's truly decimating me.

I told myself that, like us all, Rio was temporary.
I told myself that our time together wasn't any less beautiful for that.
I told myself that she died a hero and I could accept that.
But I can't.
I'm still running. Because it still hurts.
I guess it just didn't really sink in what it meant at the time.
I guess I didn't realize how much I'd lost until I had time to think about it.
Oh, Rio... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for the way things turned out. I'm sorry that I wasn't there more. I'm sorry that I didn't do enough.
I'm sorry that we parted ways in anger and frustration, and that-

I'm sorry that the fairytale ended. I feel like I failed you. Like it was my fault things ended how they did. I wish sometimes I could turn back time. I wish I could have spared you the scarring the world put on you. I wish you could've stayed that idealistic ball of sunshine from all those years ago... but the world ravages us all in the end. Even you, pure and sweet you, weren't immune to that.
You deserved better.
You all did.

It feels so disgusting now, so self indulgent to be like this.

To have said I was fine so steadfastly, that I accepted it, then to try to mourn one and inevitably be dragged to think of the other.

It feels disrespectful to them both.

It feels like betrayal.

I could talk about it to someone, but I don't know who.

I don't know if I really have anyone to do that to anymore.
Maybe I could steal away the Dreamer for a time... but I don't know if she could help either.
We are friends, but not that close, I think.
I don't want to burden my granddaughter with it. Just like I never burdened Rio or Marfons when I hurt.
It isn't their place or role to see me like that.
And though Aricles is a good friend to me, I don't feel like it's his place either.
Maybe Seanius. She's a good listener. She helps too.

There now, see?
That's what you need to do. To see someone. To tell them.
To talk and break for a little while, and put yourself together.
You did with Seanius a time or two, when Marfons fell.
That helped you, didn't it? Eventually, I mean.
You were a complete mess for a while, but you were still... you were able to heal.
Even if it scarred. You could remember him and not crumble.
Now you can't, because of her...
Go see them... for now, tell me more.

Tell me more about your friend, about Gwyn.

---

... A new song. A song of hope for her. A song of love and life. I was still so impersonal, but it had helped her, and I sent her on her way. I didn't see her for a while after that. Even so, I don't forget a patient.

So I saw her again, one day, in the Vigil. Different. Changed. So was I. It had been many years, but I remembered. I approached, and I still wanted to be her friend. Because she was still my patient, and still... made me laugh and smile.

Sometimes she hated herself. Sometimes she thought she was a wreck. I think that's true. She might have had a bubbly, cheery air, but... I could tell something was wrong.
Because I 'was always looking out for her, even when she thought she didn't deserve it.'
And I did it because I cared about her.
And I miss that. I miss coming into the town and hearing her chime into my head, 'Hello hello!'
I miss watching her and Tandy bounce about like they're still 15, happy.
I miss seeing her show that she did care, that she was a friend to many.
I miss her. Strange as she was.

I never got that second hug, you know. Just the once, when she really needed it...
I saw her when the massacre hit. When she was quiet and dismal, and I wanted to help her.
I wanted to be a better friend. I wanted to be there more for her than I was.
Seems I say that a lot, more and more these days, that I wanted more time...

Even then. Even when she had that blade on her back, even if she had some... controversies...
I didn't care about any of that.
Gwyn was my friend. She was sweet, and nice, and fun. She protected her home, and when it was gone...
She went back, and faced down the first imperfect.
Every time she came back hurt it made my heart lurch a little. I hated seeing it as much as I hated it happening to Tandava.
She was a constant, eventually. She was there.

... then she wasn't.
I didn't want to acknowledge it. I didnt-
I just-

I wanted to say she'd come back.
I wanted to see her.
I wanted to show her what I'd learned.
I wanted to know her more, to be a closer friend.
I wanted to help her.
To fool around and just have a laugh.
To hear that jaunty hello, just one more time.

Now she's gone.
And I'm just a little more alone.
The world is just a little darker.
With one more ghost in my memories.
A broken man with broken chains, running from a broken mirror.

---

And goodbye to you now, Gwyn... You too...
Funny little rainbow chicken that you were.
I wish the world could've had you in it a while longer.
I'll miss you, you know.
I'll be looking out when I get there for you as well.
Wherever you went, at least it won't be boring.

[DirectorBright]

I remember her. I remember the little girl I met so bright and full of hope.
I remember giving her the sword tailored for her, how her face lit up.
I remember when she spread her wings.
I remember when she hugged me for the first time.
When I cast away my name, my mask, y dreams for them.
When I walked into roads too dark to come back, and they dove in after me.
And I remember when they died, and I was left without them, knowing that it wasn't enough.
That ones so good had lived so short, and yet I endured.
Gwyn is just one more stone upon the heart.
I remember them all. I miss them.
And I feel as though I have grown very scarred over these years, when as many loved ones as I bind myself to again...
The laughter fades, and the quiet sets in, and I am once again reminded of the weight.

You must remember them.

Those joys- Were worth knowing them.

It was worth believing in them.

And you will meet another.

And another.

And there will be yet another, all waiting for you in the future.

You'll meet them, will you not?

You will come to see them?

You always fear and worry.

Remembering them hurts.
I do. I always fear and worry.

... You should make them memorials.

Something written in stone.Something telling those stories, to be proud of

I do not know that I can. I want to.
I loved them terribly.
I miss them terribly.
I would have the world know what he did for me. That they were both heroes.
And Gwyn, for whatever flaws and trials she had, was still my friend.
I wish I could hear that jaunty hello-hello one more time.

Would you do it? Would you write those stories down, for this one?

We will put them to stone, to steel.

---

We're getting more of it these days.

More of what?

Rest. Time spent with our loved ones, at ease.

Ah... yes, we are.

It's what I've been searching for.

Me too... it really was the... It was the goal, I suppose.
What everyone wanted in the end.
Yet evil never rests. I think soon I will be capable of it again though.
Capable of it? Hm. No, more that- I will do what I can.

True calm, without the sense of looming doom overhead?

There have been a few moments of it.

I'm trying to get that weight lifted, too.

It gets lighter in company like this...

---

And through it all, we are happy for how we've turned out. More or less.
We're better men than we were before.

Better. Better? Hard to say.
Broken. Fragmented. Damaged.

Quite loved.

---

My son made a friend today. Or well, in the past few weeks at least. Months maybe.
She seems nice. We all worked together on a new weapon for him. He really put his all into it... I brought him home for some tea and food.
He fell right asleep there, next to her. I tucked him in well, and left some food in stasis for him, so it would still be warm when he woke up and the spell broke.

Things were bad, I tell him, when he asks about my own journey.
And he says, they'll become better.
I am here, alive, with my loving, incredible wife, to whom even Lady Mortyl's divine beauty would be plain by compare, with whom every moment is filled with so much heart-filling light the sun itself is but a candle.
We have four children, little miracles greater than those of any primordial... little impossibilities, things I never thought would be for one like me, yet each is a blessing in their own right upon my life, something more than I had ever dreamed could be.
I am well loved by many, with friends across the republic and in places beyond.
My family grows as new loved ones come into my life, and each one cares for me and tries to lift me up.

Yet- most of those who made this happen, who brought me here, who were closest to me...
They didn't live to see it.

It's so bittersweet it makes me feel sick.
It's like a beautiful light that burns the eyes from your head, but you can't look away.
Not this moment, I mean- the past. All of it put together. Grief that could kill you, happiness that could bring you back.
Moments of such profound love and grace you could barely think them real, moments of such tragedy and woe that they still bring tears decades later.
A story that never should have ended in the way it did. But then, there's a reason fairy-tales end where they do, isn't there?
Even those two, as wonderous and pure as they are, couldn't endure the cruel nature of this world forever.
Even they were only temporary.

Does that make it any less wonderous who they were, in spite of it all?

Let's try this again.

A long time ago, there was a little girl who wanted to be a knight, and a prince who wanted to protect his friends, and they were in love, and they were there for me.
A long time ago, there was a little drakanite who was my friend, to whom I could tell my secrets and woes, and she believed in me.
A long time ago, there was a little nephilim on a wayward path, who I showed kindness and care, and who made me smile.
A long time ago, there was a nurse that suffered greatly on her way, who lost her daughter, her home, who was kicked and beaten on her way, and who comforted me when I was torn.

And I loved them. Each and every one, I held in my heart, and bound myself to. Each and everyone one I healed, and helped along their way.
Perhaps some more than others, but every single one, I tried to do right by, tried to help as best I could.
Sometimes I tortured myself, sometimes I tripped and fell, sometimes I walked into the dark hoping I'd find something to save them.
Sometimes, I was the one who hurt them, because I couldn't accept that they would always come to harm, and I fought the world itself in ways that only brought them trouble.

Even then...
A while ago, there was a knight and a prince, who became a king and a queen, who pulled me out of the dark and into the right again, to live a real life.
A while ago, I learned that little drakanite was proud of me, believed in me even when I pulled her into an early grave, and didn't regret choosing me.
A while ago, that little nephilim grew, and ever thanked me for what I had done, and was my friend til the day she died.
A while ago, the nurse and I were both of shattered hearts, and we gave those broken shards to one another, to piece together and hold forever.

It hurts to remember the ones who are gone.

Not so long ago, the king and queen fell, and I was broken again... and though I'm still fractured to dust, I have to remember. I will tell others of who they were, that all would know of their lives.
Not so long ago, I forgave myself for her death, and move to show she was right to put faith in me.
Not so long ago, the wayward flame fell, and I grieved for her loss, and carved her likeness to stone.
Not so long ago, She blessed me as her Champion, and we have four wonderful children, and I am held to this day, and she fills my soul with peace.

It hurts. Every broken piece cuts deep. One remains, and without her, I would perish. I would not wish to endure. I would follow her as the dawn chases the night, past the blackened gates of death and beyond, as I promised, with everything that I am, was, and will be.

It is unfair the others are gone. It is wrong. Each died cruelly, violent ends they never deserved, no matter what any others may say. Each died to the hands of a bastard, a monster, to those who if there is any justice in creation would burn in hel for eternity. The world remains wrong, the world remains cruel.

Yet each of these, of the dead and living, would see me live on. They would see me here, tucking my children and grandchildren in to sleep, teaching them of what I've learned, lifting them up and being pulled along with them out of darker hazes and cruel reverie. They would see me pouring tea and handing fresh cookies to them, to sit and smile and laugh at their innocence and sincere goodwill. They would see me hold and be held by Her, and that we are happy, and that we find genuine rest and peace, solace in one another.

They would see me do for these as I have done for them.
And I think they would be proud of what I have become, because they cared for me.

The dark will come again, I know. Not the cool shade I embrace, but the caustic and bitter mourning and yearning. The sorrow, the pain, the anguish.
All of that light does not remove an ounce of the pain, the bitterness... but it shoves me forwards.
It makes it possible to move, it makes it easier to carry on, even if it hurts.
There are still people who need me. There will always be people who need me.

Just as I did for them, I will do for these.
I will help them. I will heal them. I will create for them, and I will teach and guide them.
I will watch them grow, strive, struggle.
I will love them and be happy...
... And I will lose them, and I will grieve.
I will be made whole by their presence as much as I will be torn apart by their absence.

Until neither I, nor my Radiant Light, can bear it a moment longer.
Then we will go, to our final home, and rest, and see all the ones we aided waiting there.

Until then?

I will carry on the memory of each and every one, and I will honor the life they gave me.

---

So here's to you.
All of you.
I love you.
I will make it count. 

I promise.

[DirectorBright]

Aricles was right about something.
All of these people are fucking insane.

Now this is a different tone from you.
You're normally all weepy and sentimental.
Now you're angry.
Is this about the bird?

Partially.
The birdbrain started it.
But it's more just a-

That you are exhausted and worn out and tired and grieving,
And that you just got hit in the face with another issue?
Another problem for you to have to involve yourself in,
Bound by the chains of others.
Another abhorrence, and this one makes you angry, because-

Because it was asinine, yes.
There is no reason this should have happened.
None.
Aricles was right, people are insane.
Why on Kraus's green earth, do they keep doing this?
The bird hurts because it's personal, but this isn't just about the bird.
I feel like I can't go five seconds without someone holding the Idiot Ball and fucking themselves up in some horrific manner for no reason.
And it would be one thing if they only hurt themselves,
But they pretty much never do.
They always have someone that loves them, and it always bites that person too.
Its like none of them ever consider for a moment:
Hey, maybe, I shouldn't do incredibly reckless shit for no reason, because I have a family that would be sad if I got myself fucked up.

Language.
I see we've moved to Anger.

I don't want to have to deal with this.
This is bullshit.
I'm going to smack the hel out of that birdbrain when this is over....

I thought this wasn't about her?

She's the straw that broke the camel's back, because this time it was personal.
How hard is it?
You see a mystery potion, in the realm of the dead, in a dragon-aligned area.
A place known to kill you, a being known to generally be an asshole.
Don't fucking drink it.
You see a potentially cursed item, don't immediately touch it with your bare hands.
This should be common sense.

I remember during the Siege of Gloomlight, a demon drops this weapon covered in living, demonic flesh.
And what happens? Gloomer grabs it, immediately. It fuses to his hands. They have to cut it off of him.
He tells everyone this and drops it on the ground, after he had wrapped it in a sheet.
Half a crowd swarmed it immediately.
Then after Loramelian has to yell at them to not touch it, they argue for half an hour about how to move it.
Half the people there have telekinesis, and Talugth was standing right there.

Or how about Agne making a demon heart and half of them wanting to eat it at once?

Or hel, even Lora's not immune to this.
A set of demon horns remains after a demon disintegrates, and flies at Bonbon on it's own.
Talguth picks it up, and his puppet locks back into an endless scream while he says its 'interesting' or something.
What does Lora do?
Lora. Who has a variety of magics to move things without touching them directly.
Who just watched this thing beeline a living being at once.
Who knows full well what a kaorblade is and has a long history dealing with cursed mind control nonsense.
What do they do.
Guess.
Guess what happened immediately.

They touch-

They touched it and it stuck to their head, yes.
If it wasn't for a particular ring, we'd have had to probably kill them.
I'm just... I'm so tired of this.

It goes beyond just them.
People studying things they shouldn't, for no reason.
Doing things they know have a very good chance of getting them killed, without any conceivable gain.
Watching a dozen examples of something bringing nothing but suffering into their life,
Then doing it anyway, refusing to abandon it, and crying when it does the same to them.
Taking idiotic risks with uncertain rewards, throwing any semblance of caution to the wind.
And why? Why?
Why? There wasn't any reason for any of this to happen.

It's like an entire city never moved past the toddler stage of 'put things in my mouth to see what they are.'

---

I'm tired. I'm very tired.
And I'm angry.

I'm angry people do this and I have to clean up after it.
I'm angry that it comes back and crashes itself into my own family again and again.
I'm angry that so many others are so indifferent about it.
I'm angry that people see problems and don't try to fix them.
Of being told fixing it is impossible, when it's so easily in reach it's laughable.
When there are a dozen examples of it being done.
When they'd do it for themselves if they wanted to.
I'm angry that they roll over and just give up on things that they could solve so easily if they tried.
And then tell you that you're wrong in some way for trying.
That we need to accept suffering that could have been avoided if someone used their brain for two seconds.
That we could get rid of in a matter of days if we actually bothered to.


Then they come to me and say, 'you can't demand everyone else solve problems for you'
Doesn't stop others from coming to me and asking the same.
It has never stopped me from helping them.
If I could lift every burden on my own shoulders and fix them all, I would.
But I am one man, with one set of skills, who can only be in one place at a time.
I can't solve everything.
Even if I want to.
That doesn't mean the problem doesn't still exist.

I wish I could leave some of these issues in the hands of others, but it seems like nobody gives a shit half the time.
That nobody moves with any urgency on things that cannot wait.
Then say 'oh no its too late' afterwards.
Except our enemies, of course.
They move.
And then I lose people, and get told 'that's just the way it is' like that's supposed to make it okay.

Don't bullshit me with that.
Not when you could fix it.
Don't enable cruelty and agony because you're too fucking lazy or apathetic to try, or have some brainless 'acceptance' of the unacceptable.

I have so much that I need to get done.
I have so many works unfinished, half finished, that need to be made.
And so little time to do it in.
Now I have to try to do this, when even the thought of it claws at me.
But I don't know that I have anyone else I can trust to make sure it happens.
I was told once that I need to have faith in my people.
Well I did.
And in less than a year, my people showed that it was the wrong decision, and screwed me.
Now here we are again. blindsided.

---

I feel like I'm drowning.
Like I can't breathe.
Can't rest.
It comes in every waking moment of peace, the paranoia. 
The need to prepare for the next threat.
The bracing for the next catastrophe.
It undermines everything with fear.
Then the fears come true, and there's nothing I can do.

I need to go to bed knowing things are going to be okay.
I need to wake up from my dreamless sleep  by her side, and not feel dread when I remember the world.
I need to be able to spend time with my loved ones and not feel like I'm doing wrong, wasting time that could've been spent working to keep them safe.
I need to relax.
I need to rest.
I...
... I need a vacation.

But I can't have any of that.
It would be nice if my world would stop catching fire, if I could trust someone else to put it out, so I could.

[DirectorBright]

Whenever I'm alone with you...

... you make me feel like I am home again...

Whenever I'm alone with you...

... you make me feel like I am whole again...

---

It's quiet.
There's one more, that I haven't mentioned yet... because I didn't think I needed to.
Yet who would I be if I didn't say the name of the most important of them all?
Her. Juno. My Juno.

---

I chose you, over all of Meranthe...
Without really realizing it, I guess I said it, too.

If there was anyone I would dedicate the rest of my days to, let it be you...
Righteous You...

---

She was the reason, you know. That I stuck around.
Still here. Still... enduring.
Retired, mostly. Barely sticks her head out every once in a while...
... wish it was more often. Even if the world is so dangerous these days-
I wish she would still just- be.

We'll be safe soon.
Safe as anyone can be, anyway...
... we will go together, that is what we promised, and it is what will be.
Someday... but... not today. Or tomorrow.
Not for a long time yet.

... I will bury my son, someday.
It's more than likely. I outlived all the rest.

I just hope he's old first.

I don't want to see that when he's young. Not like last time.
Will I survive it?
Can I bear to see it?
I don't know. Maybe.

Everyone dies eventually.
My little miracles aren't an exception to that rule, and neither am I, nor my radiant light...
... when we're ready, I hope. I hope we're ready, when it happens.
I have so much left to do. Sometimes I wonder why. Then-

Did you know, darling...
I told you once, I asked... if you knew, that when the world caved in, when I felt like giving up, that it was my thoughts of you that pushed me forwards.

That's fascinating.
What would she say if she knew who's blood was on your hands?

Oh.
It's you again...
... I knew I was reminiscing a little too happily.

I never left. You on the other hand-
Does she know?
That your 'great work' is soaked in gore?
That you killed a child for this? That it was your hand that swung the 'blade?'
Garret gave the order, but you were the one who needed a shadow.
For your work, it was convenient to have it.

... no, I don't think she does.
Nor do I think she'd care too much, given the circumstances.

Did you lose sleep over it?
A child, screaming and crying for her mother, and you just...
... carried on like it didn't matter?

Not particularly.
There was a baseline level of revulsion for the sight. The act.
It is a disturbing thing to witness, let alone do.
It was almost enough to make me feel sorry for her.
... almost.
Yet that was the grave she dug with her own two hands so fervently that even the redeemer knew it was over.
Nobody who observed or knew the truth thought much of it.
Just concerned that I wouldn't have handled it well.

I don't enjoy ending lives.
I had never killed a human before.
... but I can't say it was particularly difficult.
Or that it was much bothering.
It was a chore, much like the last three lives I ended- or at least had a hand in ending.

And Meri'li? That was one your hands too, no?
That was the first.

I suppose you're right.
Then again, I forgave myself for that a while ago.
So did Juno. So I don't see why you bring it up, other than-

She wasn't any different and it tore you apart.

... I was better. We were better. You know that. No innocent blood on our hands.
I don't need to defend myself over it because there's nothing to defend.
I fucked myself and her with carelessness, but it was the Citadel's callous hand that sent her to hel.
They were evil. Openly so. None can question that. Now they're dust, and I remain.

And I will always remain.
That is what I am, who I am. I do what is necessary. What I think is right.
People condemn it sometimes, but I've yet to meet a one who hated me truly that didn't turn out to be some brand of evil.
Be it a witch, or their collaborators, or some serial murderer, or one who simply seeks problems for their own sake.
Even then, I do not need people to understand. I only need them to abide.
I will never be satisfied, of course. It's just the nature of things-

Except for I, in her arms, and she in mine.
Then I want for nothing, and all that is outside of that moment is dust.
That is the way of things as they should be.

Weapons roll off the forges. Synthetics shift in their growth tanks.
The secrets of the universe unravel and I pull upon the threads of Creation itself.
I create things that none have ever seen before and send them into the world.
I build wonders that none have dreamed of.

None of that matters when I see her smile.
None of it matters when I hear her laugh.
None of it matters when I have her.

None of those things that I do are as miraculous as that.

None of them are more incredible than that she said to me, 'I love you.'

---

Everything was all for her.
I would do it again. A hundred times. A thousand times.
All of it. Every ounce of pain, ever measure of fear.
Every moment in which I wished it would all just end, but for one thing:

Her.

I would walk through hel itself, shoulder every burden, hold up the very stars above...
Just for those moments in which we are together and the world stops turning.
Just for that laugh, that smile, to go on for just a moment longer.

I love her, more than words can express, and she loves me in turn.

---

[DirectorBright]

Severed, broken chains weigh heavy on the mind
The true fear at his core, was that he did not wish to be alone again
That he did not wish to go back

---

Won't you hold me?
A broken, shivering thing, to anchor and remind that I am here?

Such a dependency cannot be healthy...
... but here we are.

I suppose we are not so different then, that I too am weak to being abandoned or cast aside.
Weak to loss, to change...
A heart that gets in the way of my feet, as she said.

Yet time has fond you inured, used to it.
Not callous, not immune, it scalds and burns you still...
... but you have grown to know it, to accept it.
A familiar pain.

You are old, and so am I, yet to you I am but a child.
For the length of your time on this world, we are fleeting and passing things.
How many children have you watched grow old and be buried by now?
How many generations?

I have seen it, and it burned me horridly, and I will see it again I know.
The weight of but a few crushes down on me like the sky crushes Atlas, yet you still stand.
You still laugh and play and love.
I envy that resilience, but I do not envy what brought it to you.
It was not a lesson you wished to learn, nor one that I in turn desire...
... such seems to be the fate of me, however, to observe while others pass.

You would think that age would make me more resistant to loss, more tolerant of death and endings...
... and yet, it aches all the more every time.

I have lived on, even though so many have departed, and I love and am loved all the same.
You were right, my heart still beats, I still yearn, I still crave that closeness and peace found only in the arms of another.
I still bind myself to the living, tie myself to what remains, forge new friends and welcome new people into my heart.
I still dote and care and treasure, and I still loathe and hate and burn with fervor when they are wounded.

I still love.
I still want.
I still live.

Does it all have to hurt so much, old friend?
Does it all have to ache?
Does it ever stop?

I suppose not, when even one as old as yourself grows quiet and hurt at times.
... I am sorry that it was I who did that to you, too.

Wrath is a sin, and I am a sinner.
Nobody could ever deny that I am a broken and flawed thing at my core, not any who had seen me, known me.
I do not think I will ever truly be free of that.
Fear defines me so much as love does.
Not near so detached as you.
Not so accepting of things.

Once upon a time I was free, you know.
So light, so airy, so full of wonder and mystery and optimism.
And once I untied myself from a long-past person, one who had withered and changed, one who was no longer the girl I held so dear, who had grown broken and scarred from the world until she was but an echo, craving release-
The lightness returned for a brief while, the weight gone.

It was so easy not to care anymore, and yet all the same I fall again into their tangled webs.
Into the untidy and messy schemes of mortals like me, who I cannot help but care for.
Why do I seek it, this heaviness, this weight?
To find solace in the presence of another is to find comfort in making myself... vulnerable again.
In tying myself to their fate, in falling.

Were it not for that weight, would I fly away?
Would I float off into the great beyond unmoored?
Perhaps I seek it to hold myself to the earth, then, even if it is such an awful thing sometimes...

... I never was good at letting go.

The irony, no? Champion of abandonment... of rest...
Finding little of either.
Finding myself ever pining for the past, for things gone, for what I can't have anymore.
It's so bitter to have had everything I wanted and then have it taken away.
To have known the future I lived to see and then watch it die.
To watch it be perverted into a cold and bitter thing.

Everything I wanted, for everything I cared about.
Seems to be a running theme in my life...

---

Time changes everything and that change is not always for the better.
There is a reason fairytales end when they do.

Remaining in this life finds me in pain.
Remaining in this world finds me afraid.
Remaining in this grand design finds me cold.

I should go.
I should have gone a long time ago.
Yet I do not think I would be at peace in the next life either.

For as you said I still crave.
Still love.
Still stir.
There is no shame in that, you said.

... but there is pain in it.
Agony.
When I am alone, it creeps in.
It weeps through the cracks in my foundations and drowns me.

Some people make it easier.
Some people make it more bearable.
I have a weakness for those people, you know.
It's easy to love them, and it's so hard at the same time.
The more I love them, the more it makes the pain go away-
But at the same time, that is what hurts me most.

Maybe I am always hurting.
Maybe they just make it go away for a while, and I mistake that relief for joy.
Then why does it hurt so much when they are hurting?
Why is is so much heavier when they are gone?

Sinners, saints.
From profane undead to blessed nephilim.
From the artificial and synthetic, to the natural and ordinary.
From the condemned to the praised.
From the guilty to the innocent.

Each has held my heart, healed and broken it again.
Each has lifted the weight and doubled it.
Each has held me together and torn me apart.

Yet I linger, still, torn and broken and bleeding.
Dependent and parasitic, not so different in that, are we?

---

I wonder if they ever resent me for it...
... never did I resent yourself for such.

We are both broken things, dear Servant.
Perhaps we can be broken together, for a time...
... perhaps longer than most, I will stay and be your friend.
Even if we have our bumps and bruises on the way-
I am still here, no?
Still here.

I don't know if I will fade with the ages, as many mortals do.
It's hard to keep on going when so many others have gone.
I love more and more and lose more and more, and then find others and love and lose them too.

I don't want anyone else to go through that, with me.
Hurting you, hurting them, hurting her, hurting her, I could never bear it.
So I'll stay.
I'll stay, for as long as I can, for as long as anyone can.
For you, for them, for her.

I'll stay.
Even though it hurts.

[DirectorBright]

I had an apprentice once.

No- two, or three...
... four... it depends on how you count it, I guess.
They're all dead, though.

I am tired.
Most of the people that I loved are dead, or absent.

A part of life is coming to care about new people, as scary as it is.
People Die. They leave. They let go.

I know, but-

---

Why did the next one have to be you?

---

---