A star fell from the sky that night, and Prester Garth opened his eyes just in time to see it.
The sun had long since set, and cool night air was flooding in through the shattered cathedral roof. The moon had come out from behind the clouds, too, bathing what remained of the great hall in light. His bed was broken glass and stone.
Dull aches of pain flowed through Garth's body, punctuated by the spikes of agony from his burns. The moment his consciousness returned, Garth recognised that he'd been defeated. Utterly, utterly defeated. It took nearly all the strength he had just to keep breathing.
"Mr. Garth?" It was the voice of the Good Lady.
Neck screaming at him to stop, Garth turned to look at her. She was kneeling down next to him, and she wasn't alone -- six rebels were standing around him, each of them pointing a spear in his direction. They were clearly ready to kill him the moment he made a suspicious move.
Unnecessary. In his current state, he couldn't so much as throw a punch. Even drawing upon the godsblood was beyond him right now.
He sighed, ignoring the pain response in his lungs.
"Mr. Garth," the Good Lady repeated. Not Prester. "It's over."
He spoke through cracked, dry lips. "Your Ladyship. Listen to me carefully. You must take steps -- below this cathedral is a great starship. You must destroy the console before those people are able to send a signal out. If the Regulators must fall, then so be it, but if nothing else you must --"
"Mr. Garth," the Good Lady whispered. "They've… they've already sent that signal thing."
Garth's breath caught in his throat, and a dull despair settled itself over his heart. Now, he'd been defeated utterly -- he, and all the people of this world.
"Why?" he whispered, staring up at the doomed sky. "Why did you allow them to do this?"
"Because…" the Good Lady took a deep breath. "Because I don't think it's such a bad thing, Mr. Garth. I don't… agree with you."
He chuckled bitterly. "You don't agree with me? What you disagree with is reality, girl. They'll come and they'll kill us because of what you idiots have done. The outside world loathes the gods that we adore. There's no place in it for us."
The Good Lady swallowed. "There's no… there's no proof of that. You're just saying things."
"But I can see it in you as well -- you're frightened, aren't you? Because you know, deep down, that what I say is the truth. You're dead, all of you -- dead." Neck screaming at him, he turned to look at his rebel guards as he roared. "You as well -- dead!"
"I don't feel dead, Mr. Garth," the Good Lady said quietly. "It won't be easy, I -- I know that, but if we work hard, a-and show them what kind of people we are… I think there's a place for us out there. The world doesn't need to be so tiny. I think… I think you could even help with that, if you're willing."
Garth slowly blinked, thoughts broiling in his head -- then, with all the speed he had left, he grabbed a shard of broken glass from the ground and drove it into his own throat.
The Good Lady's scream seemed distant, and the hands of the rebel guards as they grabbed and restrained him were equally numb. It was pointless -- the damage had already been done. He could feel the cold glass inside his throat, as if he'd swallowed ice, and the soothing warmth of pain that was spreading out from it.
His world was doomed, his people dead, but at least he wouldn't be around to see it.
Smoke passed overhead, and for a moment the moon went out.
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Old Owl strolled through the ruined streets of Coren, hunched over with his hands clasped behind his back. Grena dutifully followed by his side. The both of them were ready to leap into combat at any moment -- even if, as things were, it was unlikely anyone would be willing to fight them.
It had taken hours to repel the monsters that had poured from the cathedral -- those that hadn't been killed had fled into the countryside, and would have to be hunted down over the coming weeks. With the combined forces of the Grinhe and Aubrisher's rebels, it should be a simple task.
Still… Old Owl narrowed his eye in distaste as they passed a pair of city guards, still maintaining their post outside a Regulator supply station. The Good Lady had announced the disbanding of the Regulators earlier that morning, but facilities like this would continue to operate until it was worked out how exactly to reallocate their resources.
The city guard that had been put in control of them weren't Regulators, but Old Owl still didn't trust them as far as he could throw them. If they were given the opportunity, they'd no doubt take the place of the old tyranny.
"You'll keep one eye on them," he grumbled to Grena as they passed. She nodded.
Grena had a good head on her shoulders -- despite her personal feelings, and the length of time she'd been embedded in the enemy ranks, she'd faithfully accomplished her mission as promised. She'd do well.
Where are we going, sir? she signed.
"We are walking," he replied.
Of course, she nodded.
They came to a ruined square, nondescript if not for the hulking quadruped corpse sprawled throughout the center. It was one of the largest monsters that had emerged from the cathedral, and apparently they were having difficulty working out how to transport it. That wasn't what had caught Old Owl's interest, however.
He pointed a thin, trembling finger towards a doorway off in the corner -- it had been some kind of tailor in the past, but he didn't know what it led to now.
"Do you see that spot?"
Grena nodded.
"When I was a boy," Old Owl said unhaltingly. "I did not listen to my elders. They told me that the people of the city were petty and cruel, and knew only petty and cruel things. I did not believe this. I thought to myself -- these people are humans as am I. Deep down, we are all the same. I thought I knew better. Do you understand this?"
Yes, sir, she signed.
Of course she did. All people knew this. All people, at some point in their lives, believed only they truly understood how the world worked. All people found themselves mistaken.
He went on: "I snuck away from my village in the dead of night to visit this city. I wandered the streets for hours, thinking the buildings and the people to be amazing things. There were many things I had not seen before. Surely my elders are wrong, I thought. Surely they have become old and senile."
He took a deep breath, his eye far away.
"Then, I bump into a man over here. A Regulator, a very important man. One of those people I thought to be an amazing thing. He looks at me and I suppose he does not like my face. He throws me into the doorway and takes out a little knife."
Old Owl pulled down the collar of his cloak further, revealing the ruined, scarred socket on the other side of his face.
"I will not talk more," he whispered.
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Grena's hand movements were halting and unsure. I'm sorry.
"It was many years ago," Old Owl said. "The pain has faded." Even so, he pulled his cloak back up to hide his missing eye. "You are thinking I have become old and senile too, aren't you? Lost in bad memories?"
Grena began to sign, but a raised finger from Old Owl halted her movements.
"You think these things," he said firmly. "We will not be talking again after this, so you will let me be correct now. Understand?"
What do you mean?
"Lily Aubrisher has been speaking to the Lady. They want a council of the three powers to decide how things will be from now on. Coren, Grinhe, and the rebels. They have asked me to represent us. I will not."
Why?
Old Owl sucked air in through his nose. His many years of life seemed to suddenly settle over him all at once, exhaustion compressing his form. For a moment, it seemed as if even the slightest wind would blow him away.
"When we ascended to the surface, to begin the attack," he said quietly. "We saw the monsters killing, the monsters eating -- and for a second, I thought to myself that this was a thing that should continue. That this was a thing deserved, and should not be intervened with." His eye blinked. "I, too, have become a petty and cruel thing. That is why you will be on that council, and not me."
Grena turned to him, her eyes wide, and even took a step back. Her hand movements were hurried: No, sir, I cannot do that. I'm sorry.
Old Owl smiled slightly under his cloak. "You want to chase after that man, don't you? Nael Manron."
Slowly, slightly, Grena nodded.
"It is a thing I understand," Old Owl nodded. "But there is a difference between what one must do and what one wants to do. I am not fit to do this thing. Would you trust another person to do this thing?"
Grena's reluctance was visible even in her signing. No, I don't.
"Then that is all there is."
And without waiting for another response, Old Owl turned and began to walk away, hands still clasped behind his back. As he reached the edge of the square, he glanced back over his shoulder, curious to see if Grena would pursue.
No, she would not. She stood there, her feet firmly on the ground, biting her trembling lip as she watched him go.
Where will you go? she asked.
Old Owl thought about it for a moment. "Far away, I think," he finally croaked. "Perhaps I will live there, perhaps I will die there. Either way, I shall do so quietly."
Without another word, Old Owl stepped out of the square -- and out of history.
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Nael Manron placed a hand against the cold glass of the escape pod window, looking down at the planet he'd spent his entire life on. The city he'd been born and raised in, the countryside where he'd met his shame, all of it lay before him. He could even see the moon and the sun, so very far away.
It was all so tiny, and himself even tinier. He'd rambled about honour, duty and obligation to no end -- but looking at it all from above, what did those petty things amount to?
Nothing. The sentimentality of an ant.
When he'd gone to this escape pod and launched it, he'd considered that the Guardian Entity might have been lying. Perhaps he'd even been hoping for it. There had been every chance that launching this capsule would have instantly meant his death, and part of him had accepted that.
The things he'd lived for had disappeared, at any rate.
Nael leaned back as much as the cramped quarters of the pod would allow, Shamichoro balanced on his knee. From what Aka Manto had said, the pod would have instantly sent out a distress signal once it left the atmosphere. If he was lucky, someone would be close enough to respond to it. If he was unlucky, he'd starve to death in this metal coffin.
He looked down at the Guardian Entity on his knee. When he was young, he'd adored tales of adventurers fighting their way through space, slaying demons and monsters. If nothing else, Nael supposed, he had his strength. He had the ability to fight -- and he knew now that the world had no shortage of monsters to slay. That was his role in all of this.
Nael Manron glanced at his tiny, distant world one last time -- then closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.
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"Stator for your thoughts?" Ruth asked.
Lily snorted, trying to ignore the spurts of static from her nose that accompanied it. As she placed the woven wreath down on the ground, strands of electricity stuck to it, burning the edges of the leaves.
"Still don't know what the hell a 'stator' is," Lily chuckled.
After the situation in Coren had stabilized following the battle, they'd headed back to Lily's childhood home -- the place where the Regulators had killed her brother and sent her on the run. Ruth didn't know for sure, but she was willing to bet that the wreath of leaves had been placed on the exact spot Lily's brother had passed.
Ruth looked Lily up and down -- it seemed that the constant glow she'd been emitting since absorbing Raiju wasn't going away. "Bet that's gonna take some getting used to."
"Yeah," Lily said. "I tried to get out of bed this morning, ended up launching myself into the ceiling."
Ruth grinned. "Nice one."
"I wasn't joking."
"Oh."
"Anyway," Lily sighed happily, looking up at the sky. "It's not so bad. I feel different, yeah, but I feel powerful. Like… anything I want to do, I can do it. You get me?"
"I think I do," Ruth smiled. "I think I kinda feel the same way. I mean, I can't shoot lightning and shit outta my hands like you can, but… I feel like I've stopped holding myself down."
Lily's smile faded slightly, her eyes focusing on a spot a couple of meters away. "I think I've been standing over there, watching my brother die, for years now. No matter where I went, or what I did, I was still standing there. Like my feet were nailed to the ground."
Ruth raised an eyebrow. "How about now?"
"Now…" Lily sighed. "Now I feel like I might be able to walk away. How about you?"
"Huh?" Ruth blinked.
"You're stuck somewhere too, right? Feet nailed down? I can tell. You feel like you're able to walk away?"
Ruth thought about it, about that pile of corpses out in the jungle, about that lashed body strapped to a post. Was that really something she could walk away from? Was it really something she deserved to walk away from?
For a moment, a single awful moment, Ruth considered just staying still and resting her legs.
"Hey, Ruth!" Dragan cried off in the distance, a single crate held in his arms. "Are you going to help us load this stuff or just sit there talking?! The rescue craft'll be here tomorrow!"
"Yeah, Miss Ruth!" Serena called out. "This stuff's heavy!" She was balancing two crates in each of her hands.
The moment passed, and Ruth smiled softly to herself. With how busy this crew kept her, there was no way she had the time to stand still. Tired joints cracking, she got to her feet. "Think I might head out," she said quietly. "You sure you don't wanna come with? There's a lot of cool shit out there."
Lily considered it for a second before shaking her head. "Someday, maybe, but not yet. There's too much to do around here. The Regulator's are gone, sure, but there'll be people who liked the way things were before, who'll want things to go back. People like the world small, I guess."
"Gotcha," Ruth mused. "Won't be easy to keep things peaceful, you know. We could -- I could convince the others to stick around for a little while, if you want."
Lily shook her head.
"Nah," she grinned. "It'll be fine. I'm the strongest."
The wind blew through the trees, and the sun beat down gently. It wasn't exactly a warm day, but it wasn't a cold one, either. It was like the planet itself had calmed down, too.
"Maybe I'll stick around for just five more minutes," Ruth said quietly.
By the time she left, there were two wreaths placed down on the ground.
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"You nervous?" Ted asked as he and Lily walked down the hallway to the meeting hall.
Parts of the cathedral had been hurriedly converted to serve as the headquarters for this alliance, so as the two of them walked there were visible traces of the battle that had raged not long ago. Deep gashes in the wall, piles of sweeped-up broken glass, and even drops of dried blood. It didn't make for the most inviting place, but appearances weren't much of a concern at this point.
"What's there to be nervous about?" Lily asked. "We won. The truth had its day."
"For now," Ted said doubtfully, wincing as his stride aggravated what remained of his injuries. "What about tomorrow? What if Coren or the Grinhe try to take total power for themselves?"
Lily's voice was carefree as she pushed the double doors open. "Well," she said. "I guess we'll just have to play our cards right, won't we?"
The other two seats at the circular table within were already filled. One by the Good Lady, hands clasped on the table in front of her. One by the Grinhe representative, a woman named Grena, her own hands hidden beneath her green cloak. Both of them looked to her.
The remaining seat was empty, waiting to be filled.
"Heya," Lily addressed the room as she sat down. "Looks like there's work to be done."
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A star rose from the earth that night.
END OF ARC 5