Velli

It’s so hard to stay inspired in a graveyard.

Amelia’s burial is a smaller, less glamorous, perhaps more real event. It takes away so much from what the pastor said. Everyone has left. It’s just me in front of the headstone now.

The joy from earlier has melted into the earth, overshadowed by nothingness. This funeral feels like nothing. I feel nothing. My suffering does not feel like it is part of a grander plan. It is painful nothingness.

The day is not especially bright nor rainy nor even eerie enough to signify a shift in my small world despite everything Amelia means to me. It’s silly, but before so many of my friends started dying, I always assumed the heroine Oro made the weather change when a good person died. I’m disappointed after every funeral I attend. Outside is an average fall noon with a lazy drizzle. I wish the sun had stayed.

You’re so stupid. She lived like a loser and died a loser. Why on earth would Oro care that she’s gone?

She wouldn’t. I spit my disgust on the brown grass. I’m relieved her parents didn’t show up. They abandoned her after her Weakness developed in her midteens. Not sure why. All the reasons are stupid, probably something like “too difficult to raise” or “not worth the trouble” or “inherently evil.”

Well…

The last theory makes me chuckle. Behind me, Hugston—an eight-foot man with the literal body of a teddy bear, whose power is to make anyone smile and feel warm on the inside—hugs Dream and another funeral guest waiting by the edge of the graveyard. Amelia bought Hugston’s pricey services before she died. She didn’t want anyone sad at her funeral. She always wanted everyone to smile, though she was miserable herself. And she liked the idea of Hugston because he was quantifiably ridiculous. Amelia loved the ridiculous.

Her headstone’s a simple gray one that she bought herself, maybe a couple of years ago. “Amelia, a friend and the funniest in the room,” it reads. The headstone is funny. That’s really funny. Who calls themselves the funniest in the room? She wasn’t even that funny, but she wanted to be. I can’t stop smiling. It’s the first real emotion other than misery that I’ve felt since we arrived at the graveyard. It doesn’t last long. I force a smile again, nice and wide, and think of good moments with her. There were so many.

My fake smile falters. I peek behind me again. Every eye is red with tears, though their smiles are wide because of Hugston’s presence. I can’t feel anything anymore. I’m heavy. I need to sit, but I want to mourn too. I stare at the headstone, wanting it to activate or something, make me feel something other than this miserable heaviness. Even sadness would be better. Is this how Amelia felt before her end?

Amelia, Cursed with pink furry skin and arms the size of a gorilla’s and legs that never grew bigger than a preschooler’s so she had to walk on her knuckles. Amelia, miserable herself, but no one would ever know it unless they entered her inner circle because she wanted, desperately wanted, everyone to laugh. Amelia, who hated her body and never realized how pretty she was.

It’s your fault, y’know? You should have reached out harder when Major died. That’s where things got bad for her. That’s where things got worse.

I tried…

Did you?

Yeah, I was struggling on my own with—

Now, now, Velli, you were not on your own when you grieved. You got closer to Dream. It was you, Amelia, and Dream left in the friend group, and you got closer to Dream. You made that choice because you’re selfish. Poor Amelia had to find somebody.

I was mourning. I didn’t know this would happen. I just wanted to—

Abandon your friends? You knew it wouldn’t end well for her. Amelia, who looked to be held in anyone’s arms. Amelia, who was damaged by her first love before you met her. You understood how delicate her heart was, how she could barely trust anyone who wasn’t constantly laughing at her jokes. Amelia, so damaged by being lied to about love and wanting it so badly she’d accept it from anyone. Even Parasite. Look at the ground, Velli. Tell me what’s in the grave?

Nothing.

That’s right, Velli. Because she gave her body away to Parasite because he said nice things to her. He possessed it, and it disintegrated in a couple of days.

Fate’s words hurt, but I’ve dealt with this before. He always says it’s my fault. We’re ten funerals in, and I’ve made my peace in a way. If I could look back and say I loved and listened, I’ve done my duty, and that’s true of every friend I’ve ever lost.

Loved, listened, then you lost. The three L’s, Velli.

I couldn’t do much. I met Amelia when she was hurt, and the hurt never left. I don’t think people understand how delicate young hearts are or the damage we do when we use people or how much of our minds are shaped when we’re young. I know I didn’t. Seeing the damage done to Amelia’s psyche—the drugs, self-hate, paranoia, and eventual self-destruction at the hands of Parasite—was uniquely painful.

My legs go weak, and I grab the headstone for balance. Parasite, a drug addict, whose drug of choice is the human body. He can possess anyone and feed on them until nothing’s left. She knew it, though! She knew what he was! And still she offered herself to him because she wanted to feel love, even if she knew it was fake.

Somehow, I’m on my knees, gripping the grave with both hands, the stony shape scratching my palms. My eyes water. A heavy hand slaps my shoulder. I use my sleeve to wipe my face twice and take a deep breath before I turn around.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

It’s Piedmont, a large man donning the appropriate black suit, tie, and white shirt. However, his thick, curly black mustache makes him look a little laughable, clownish. More importantly, though, he has the ability to numb or increase the pain for himself and others.

And even more important than that, he does not know Amelia. I attempt to get up. I don’t like the dynamics of being beneath anyone with powers. They already think they’re better than me.

His touch is a pleasant ooze into my shoulder, and it swims through my collarbone. Perhaps I could stay down a little longer.

“My boy.” He smiles then switches to a frown that makes his mustache curve. “I’m very sorry about your friend.” His mustache bounces with every word.

“Thank you,” I say. “Did you know her?”

“No, uh, with respect to the young woman… I’m not here for her. I’m here for you. You know, I was friends with your father. Did he mention me?”

“He did, actually. He told me about you, Mr. Thomas, Many Man, and a few other guys. Whatever happened to Many Man, anyway?”

His supernatural relief trickles down my arm. I could fall asleep to this. The tears have stopped, the heaviness lifted. Thank Division, it’s gone. Fate screams at me, but it’s like he’s miles away. His voice comes out as an abstruse echo. My fist relaxes. I didn’t even realize it was clenched.

“He’s still in the Heirs’ prison,” Piedmont confirms.

I’m supposed to be sad about that, but what could make me sad right now?

He injects more relief when I don’t respond. “I took the day off from work to be here. I’ll have to introduce you to the rest of your dad’s old friends.”

The words ease out of me. “Sometime soon… I’d love to meet everyone.”

He likes that idea a lot, and so do I. At that moment, his touch changes, another shot of kindness. The pain is in my face now—my cheeks ache from smiling.

“Excellent, Velli, excellent!” he says. “Tell me, son, what are your plans? Any goals?”

I hate showing people that part of me, but I can make a little exception. Life is good. Everything’s smooth and easy. What could go wrong?

“Right now,” I say, “I’ve been helping people with Weaknesses. It’s a sort of job, albeit a low-paying one.”

“Ah,” he says in that way people do as they judge someone to be dumb. “Well, you can’t do that forever, now, can you? What will you do with the rest of your life?”

“I’m going to change the world.”

“And how will you do that?”

Without even looking at him, I know he grins as he asks.

“I’m going to rule it.” The words come out. The invasion into my self-conscious sobers me. I open my eyes and face him.

He laughs without remorse at my dreams. I push myself to at least be on a level playing field with him.

“Stay,” he says, shooting me with another blast of relaxation.

I’m back on my knees.

“Velli.” He pauses to finish laughing. “I’m going to do you this one favor because of your father. I’m going to offer you a job. You will enter a Cognomen Oath with me for the rest of your days, and you will serve me, and we’ll serve the Heirs and only the Heirs.”

My jaw drops and stays there as I’m unable to grasp what’s going on. “The Heirs… the Heirs won’t want me near the Unchosen, will they? They think the Unchosen are unworthy of help.”

“Yes, but you can help others.”

Piedmont’s eyes are gray and clear. Everyone else’s eyes here are watery and red from tears. It must be nice not to have watery eyes. I bet he doesn’t feel the heaviness. I’m close to that. To shut out all of this and leave it behind would feel great.

“I’ve made promises…” I say. “And I’ve lost a lot of Unchosen friends. I can’t—”

His eyes glaze over, and he shoots a different sense into me, one that makes me bored with my own words. I stop talking.

“I can arrange for you to be free of most promises.” His mustache wiggles at the word. “It’s not wrong to break a promise to save your mother and to live free.”

What would my mom say? “You better not, agree to this, Velli.” She would sit up in her bed, face contorted. “Do not compromise. You better not quit your life’s goal only to serve another man. Stand up, Velli. Stand up.”

But my mom isn’t here, and she’s old and easy to lie to. I would rather lie to her while she’s alive then tell the truth to her headstone.

Actually, would I?

I glare into his eyes again. I bet he’s numb. It must feel so good to be like that. To pretend that the grave behind me doesn’t matter, that it’s just a grave. That none of this means anything. That groveling before him as a slave is fine.

“It’s fine to stay down, Velli. I know you have pride. Every man should, but life is unfair. A man who grovels in a desert beneath the man with a cup of water bears no shame.”

“Should I grovel before a man with a cup of water when I haven’t made sure every ocean is dry?” I push his hand off me and stand.

The grave is not just a grave. My friend’s spirit is in there. Piedmont's tearless eyes don’t make him better than me. They mean he doesn’t care about Amelia.

He squints at me. I smile at him, the annoying kind I give people when I want to let them know they can kill me if they like, but I would laugh at my funeral. I’m sure Piedmont considers it. He’s a personal hero for the Heirs. I’m supposed to do what he says and smile.

He grunts hard. “I’ll see you again.”

I shrug with apathy, an apathy that betrays the fear inside me, though. I don’t want to see him again. He’s too powerful.

You can’t win. You’re just a squishy thing.

I watch him sulk off to his car and mumble a prayer to myself. “Don’t turn around and beat me up. Don’t turn around and beat me up.”

You can’t win. You’re just a squishy thing.

He opens his car door. My shoulders drop, tension leaving them.

You can’t win. You’re just a squishy thing.

Two arms wrap around me from behind. Then a pretty little head sets its chin on my shoulder. “I like that bit about making sure every ocean is dry,” Dream says. “I always forget you have a romantic side.”

“Romantic is a stretch.”

“You should write me a poem.”

“Sure.” I’m taken aback by her forcefulness, and my heart skips a beat. “Probably should be a bit apologetic too.” I grab her hand and spin her so she faces me.

She lets me and enjoys the move. Her tear-stained cheeks rise in a smile.

“Sorry about keeping you in the dark… on some stuff.”

Her lips tighten, and she takes a big breath. “You’re a good man, Velli, and… I trust you.”

Really?

“Really?”

“Really. Can you at least tell me if you hurt anyone innocent?”

“Never.”

“Okay. Good. I can accept that…” She looks down at my ring finger for half a second—a look I was not supposed to notice—then back up to me. “For now…” she trails off.

I smile.

She didn’t look at your ring finger. She looked down. She looked down because she has low self-esteem because she’s Rose’s sister, which gives her an inferiority complex.

Nah, not my Dream.

“No more lies, okay?” She brings her hand up to initiate a pinky promise.

“I promise.” I lock my pinky with hers. “I want to get back to doing what we do. Who needs our help?”

“Well,” she says. “You may or may not like this one… but well, it’s kind of fairy-tale-ish, and you like stories.”

“Yeah…”

“We have to rescue a woman from a tower.”

“And…”

“She’s Wulf’s wife, and I don’t think Wulf’s going to like that. So we need to rescue the princess and slay the dragon by midnight. Metaphorically.”

The sun pokes out of the clouds. The day gets brighter. Easy, friendly wind hugs Dream and me as it makes its way to embrace the rest of the world. I didn’t notice it at first, but the weather’s changed to make it a beautiful day. The type that makes for genuine, good conversations about the weather. The type that makes everyone smile. It’s perfect for Amelia.

“Dream, I’ll put that dragon on a leash, walk it like a dog, and have it begging for treats from my hand.”

It’s settled, then. Wulf will be one of my targets. He will be the first legend I attack.