Chapter 9: Holding On To Hope.
Under the broad, ancient oak tree that stood sentinel over the edge of Green Arbor, Eli, Miko, and Jess waited, the air thick with tension and the weight of unspoken fears. Jess held baby Talon close, gently rocking him as the infant slept peacefully, unaware of the burden that pressed down on the adults around him. Eli stood stiffly, arms crossed, his face hardened by days of uncertainty. Miko, ever watchful, scanned the horizon as though willing some sign—any sign—of their friends' return.
It had been six long days since the dreaded news of Ava and Talon’s ambush had reached them—six days of restless nights, anxious days, and an increasing sense of despair. As the soft breeze rustled the branches of the oak, Mayor Reynolds approached with an air of impatience, his expression unsympathetic, as though the wait was merely a formality he was eager to dismiss.
“Let’s get on with this,” the mayor said brusquely, his eyes sweeping over the small group. “There’s no sense in dragging it out any longer.”
Miko turned to face him, already sensing the cold indifference behind the mayor’s words. Eli’s fists clenched at his sides, his composure hanging by a thread, while Jess remained quiet, her gaze steady as she bounced Talon in her arms.
Reynolds barely paused before diving into his proposal. “Look, it’s been nearly a week now. No news, no contact, and let’s be real—there’s only so much hope you can hold onto before it turns into denial. It’s time we move on.” He glanced at Eli, then Miko, with a dismissive shrug. “Why not turn this tragedy into something the town can heal from? A memorial festival—a grand send-off for our heroes. It’ll help people mourn, give them closure... hell, we could even turn it into a tradition. A day to remember the fallen, year after year. It’s good for the town.”
Eli’s face darkened, and before Miko could respond, he exploded. “A festival? You want us to throw a party for their deaths? We don’t even know if they’re gone!” He stepped closer to the mayor, his eyes blazing with fury. “You’re already cashing in on their misery, aren’t you? Ready to parade their names like some kind of spectacle!”
Reynolds remained unfazed, his lips curling into a thin smile. “It’s not about that, Eli. It’s about giving the town a way to move on. People need something to latch onto. If that’s a day of remembrance, so be it. Why not make it something that honors their sacrifice, something the town can look forward to each year?”
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Jess stepped forward, her voice quiet but firm. “You want to turn this into some kind of event? Like it's entertainment?” Her expression was filled with disbelief, as if the mayor's words barely registered as real. "You can't just package grief like that."
The mayor shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “People need closure. They need something to look forward to after all this darkness. A festival isn’t disrespecting them—it’s giving people a way to move on. Why let this situation drag on and keep everyone in limbo?”
Miko’s jaw tightened, his voice cutting through the growing tension. “We don’t know anything for sure yet, Mayor. And until we do, we wait. No festivals, no memorials. They could still be alive out there.”
Reynolds waved his hand dismissively. “Come on, Miko. You’re just delaying the inevitable. Everyone knows the chances. You can’t hold onto hope forever. The sooner we accept it, the better. Hell, the town could use a distraction. Why not cash in on it? Get past this and move forward.”
Eli’s anger was barely contained. “You're disgusting. Talking about moving on like they’re already dead, like their lives don’t matter anymore.” He took another step forward, fists shaking. “You’re ready to bury them just so you can have your festival. But we’re not giving up on them.”
Reynolds’ eyes narrowed, a thin veil of irritation slipping into his voice. “You can cling to false hope all you want, but at some point, you’ll have to face the truth. I’m trying to do what’s best for the town.”
Miko stepped between Eli and the mayor, his voice calm but laced with a cold edge. “I’m the Sentinel here, Reynolds. That means it’s my call. And I say we wait. We’re not lighting any fires or holding any ceremonies until we know the truth. I’ll decide when we give up on them—not you.”
Reynolds sneered, his tone dripping with condescension. “Suit yourself, but you’re only prolonging the inevitable. Eventually, you’ll have to face facts, and I won’t be the one responsible for the town dragging its feet. You’ll regret putting this off when the truth finally hits.”
With a dismissive wave of his hand, the mayor turned and walked away, his steps quick and unbothered, as if the entire discussion was little more than an inconvenience.
The group stood in silence, watching the mayor’s retreating figure until he disappeared into the distance. Jess cradled baby Talon closer, her face a mask of frustration and disbelief at the mayor’s insensitivity.
Eli, his back still turned to the group, spoke softly, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m not ready to give up on her. Not yet.”
Miko placed a firm hand on Eli’s shoulder, offering a silent reassurance. “Neither am I. We wait.”
As the wind whispered through the branches of the old oak, carrying the faint sounds of the distant town, the group stood resolute. Their hope, fragile but unbroken, lingered in the air as they held on to the belief that Ava and Talon were still out there, fighting to come home.