Gemini clicked his teeth as he looked around one of the many platforms that surrounded the actual Ark City. “This whole setup looks rather futuristic. Three illuminated tubes that connect to the city, huh. Where do they go?”

“The tube on the left leads to the nameless monument that celebrates the sacrifices of everyone,” Lila replied. “The middle one and right one leads to Ark Interior and Ark City respectively.”

“Nameless monument…let’s go there first,” said Gemini, before turning to Hereward. “Do you mind if we do that first? I know we said something about experiencing Ark City’s food, but there are some things I want to do.”

The great god smiled. “Go ahead. We great gods like nothing more than detours and new experiences. Do what you need; the wait just makes the food all so much better.”

“Thank you.”

Demigod Eliza glanced at Gemini. “From what I can tell, the Sentinel of Space has been lured here with food. Am I right?”

“Yes, pretty much,” Gemini replied. “As it turns out, being a great god can be very boring, both on the palate and on the mind.”

“Huh. Hereward, do you have any particular preference?” Eliza asked as she led the way forward. With her around, no one bothered to do any checks on the three of them, which was probably a good thing.

“Now, Gemini here has been telling me about this excellent pizza stand in Ark City,” Hereward replied.

“Me and Lila had some of that, yes.” Gemini smiled. “During lunch, after a session of Congress, there was a bunch of young men and women selling food at Congress Square. There was someone who looked like…”

His voice faltered for a moment. “Like Campmaster Magnus. His kid, I think. Was his name Nalus?”

“Ah. I know who you’re talking about,” Eliza replied. “Well, you’re in luck, I guess. He’s been selling pizzas as a retirement gig, after the Great War ended without much of our input.”

“I was friends with Magnus and Ortega,” Gemini replied. “Maybe I could do something…”

“Share some memories, I guess. He’ll be happy to know that someone remembers his father fondly.” Eliza smiled. “Alright, follow me into this tube. It’ll take you to the nameless monument. You can make some offerings there and whatnot.”

Without much ado, the four of them moved through the tube, which had two travellators, horizontal conveyer belts that transported someone standing on it to the other side. One of them led into the depths of the tube, while the other led out of the city. From the looks of it, this travellator was a recent addition, and Gemini found himself somewhat appreciating its presence…even if he and the others could fly. It was a matter of principle, if nothing else.

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There weren’t many people, though, but Gemini saw no issue with that. Monuments weren’t meant to be a place where people gathered. Incidentally, the soldiers that had accompanied Eliza back then had returned to their stations, chased away by the true ruler of Ark City itself.

Before long, a towering black monolith rose in their vision.

“Dedicated to those who stopped the raging flood and never returned,” Gemini murmured.

Thousands of names were inscribed on it in gold filigree, and at the very top, Gemini’s own name had been written there. A eulogy had been written there for him, detailing the things he’d done in his life. As a Constellation of the Human God, and then as a person of Ark City. The amount of roundabout praise written there was enough to make him feel vaguely uncomfortable — how many people could see their name and deeds carved on a monument that was dedicated to the dead?

He was now part of that very small club, if nothing else.

A small hand held his own as Lila leaned on him, while Aria, who was napping away in her mother’s embrace, woke up and made a little noise.

“Look, Aria,” said Gemini, “your father’s name is up there. I’m not sure what to think of it.”

“We were debating about that, actually,” said Eliza. “After I brought back news that you were alive and well, still you, a bunch of us wondered if we should still have your name on the monument. I mean, it is ominous, to write a living person’s name on an area dedicated to the dead.”

“Really?” Hereward asked. “I mean, our names are thrown around and tacked onto many gravestones in the past, and nothing’s bad happened to me so far.”

“You are the Sentinel of Space,” Eliza replied. “I really doubt anything bad can happen to you. And if something did happen to you, how can you prove that it was not us writing your name onto gravestones did you in?”

Hereward pondered for a moment, and decided not to answer after all. Eliza, to her credit, didn’t push the topic either and made a small smile instead.

“So,” said the Demigod, “what should we do about your name? You’re the only one who can decide, if you ask me. Do we remove it? Or keep it on?”

Gemini paused, and a dozen thought strands sprang into motion. Within seconds, he had analysed the whole thing, in and out, and then let out a long breath.

“For the sake of Ark City,” Gemini murmured, “I think it best if the Constellation Gemini remains dead. It is one thing for an entire continent to have a great god as a protector, but the Five Lands at large will not rest easy if the Demon Sovereign extends his protection to Ark City.”

“This is your home,” Eliza replied. “Why do you insist on doing things like this? This is where your friends are, your homeland. The place you bled and died for.”

“I know,” Gemini replied. “But that’s precisely the reason why I cannot be acknowledged as Constellation Gemini. The hero of Ark City must remain dead, or else unknown troubles will strike this homeland of mine once more.”

He paused. “I’ll swing by once in a while, though. And get some food.”

“Well…if you say so, then.” The Demigod shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m usually right nowadays,” Gemini replied.

Shaking his head, he brought his hands together and bowed at the monolith once.