*************

Wyatt Graves

My heart beats erratically as we search for Virgil. Tripping over my own feet, I shake Prix roughly, shouting into her face.

"Where is he? Where did he go? I thought you said it would work?!"

She stammers, hardly retrieving an answer before I notice her eyes widen. Raising a finger with trembling eyes, she points behind me.

"It did! Look!?

I twist around, checking behind me, and I quickly find Virgil slumped against the opposite side of the train. His head is lowered, unmoving and shadowed while he sits. Aron also sees and jumps for him, wrapping him into a deep hug that tightens his form-fitting gear. For a moment, I think I see him flinch as he wakes up and then returns the hug, but I shake away the thought and move closer.

"You okay, Virgil? Did it work?"

Virgil nods slowly, still awakening as he thanks us all while patting Aron's back.

"Yeah. Yeah, it did. Thank you all for the help. Plus---"

A hand clamps around my shoulder, a short chuckle forcing me to pivot around with a closed fist, only to discover Virgil. He catches my hand and pats my back as well.

"You ain't the only one with two Absolution, kid."

What? How? He got one from that? What does it do?

Wait...

Did he just teleport?

Johnny is the first to speak as Prix begins to clear up all her materials and ingredients used to save Virgil. The gunslinger, still blind, steps up to Virgil.

"How? Absolutions require insane levels of stress. I don't mean to downplay your actions, but... I have an issue imagining this quite reaching that. I'm sure you understand, though, as this is your second."

Virgil nods, lowering a bit of his mask to reveal his face. His eyes are no longer the dull color they used to be. They glimmer with a moving twilight. One instant, the pupil is white, the next gray, the following black, continuously in transition.

"No, I get you. My first one required me to literally turn half-ghost. This one... I think it was easier because I wasn't here. Like, this plane. Flicker sent me to the in-betweens, if that makes sense. And there, I suppose the one below has a weaker grasp on reality."

Johnny and I both nod as Aron comes back over, slapping Virgil on the arm. She chastises him for sneaking away from a hug. I laugh a bit as I focus a little more on the fact he got an Absolution. It's plausible that things work like that. After all, even the Prime said the Mother Below made it all so much more difficult for us to progress.

"Virgil, so, what does it do?"

The man in question turns from his little sister and answers me while scrambling the hair on her head. Aron glares daggers at me while he does so, but I can only provide her with a wry smile.

"It makes it so each of my steps is a dozen times more potent in any plane I'm not in. Sounds confusing, but it means that if I step during Flicker, instead of being unable to really move like before, I can traverse a dozen times the distance in the same time for one step."

My eyes widen at his words, and the complexities are instantly revealed to me. Virgil is now way faster than me. The bastard basically just earned a short-range teleport. One step, and he moves twelve? What about when he becomes an Angel? One step means a hundred? A thousand?

I open my mouth, asking another question, but Johnny stops me.

"Let him rest, Wyatt. Ask him your questions later. We're only a few hours from Blackstone, Edward's current headquarters in Blackreach Territory. Go sleep. Prepare. Who knows what might be waiting for us? I hope it's that funeral for Marshall, but you never know. Myriad might just decide to show up to ruin it all."

Nodding disappointedly to Johnny, I give Virgil a quick hug before moving forward through the train to find Earl. While I leave, Virgil gets an earful from his sister, and his brother rolls his eyes. Sighing, I increase my pace. I really need my arm fixed up.

"I thought you were dead!?"

"She was gonna kill you if you died, Vir."

"I--- I'm sorry, okay? You think I did all that on purpose?"

"I dunno?! I don't have a Sigil!"

"Haah..."

**************************

"You... fine. Give me a day or so."

Earl shakes his head, exhaling deeply as he takes a look at the prosthetic arm he made me. His eyes run up and down the metals, taking in each scar and dent left behind from the battle with Sequester. Some fingers are even missing, the pain a feeble echo at this point.

"Do I need to take it off?"

I ask the question, assuming the answer is yes, but he stares at me as if I'm stupid. I scoff as I try to clear the air and hold out my right arm to hurry things up.

"I was just asking to be sure. Don't look at me like that. I'm not that dumb."

Earl nods, apologizing shortly before removing the arm in quick order. Only ten seconds or so after I finish speaking, he manages to already start to fix it. While he retrieves tools and materials, he talks to me.

"You're lucky Weiss' lab had arms similar to mine. That makes it way easier to repair and upgrade this kind of stuff. If I'm lucky, I might be able to squeeze a fourth Sigil into it this time. Now go; I need to focus. Though, if you see Primrose, tell her to come."

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Not understanding why he would want that awful-mouthed person, I question him with a gaze, but he doesn't answer how I want.

"Just get her. I need her help with this stuff, okay?"

Exhaling and feeling the lack of weight on my right side, I nod, stepping to search for her.

*****************

As soon as I sit down to rest and close my eyes, Elizabeth crunches into the seat beside me, scooting Dakota over slightly to join me. The woman folds her fingers together as she stares at me without even acknowledging that she's here.

A second.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

She merely stares at me in silence as I grow uncomfortable. Her eyes pierce into mine with her clasped hands until I break in confusion.

"What?"

Elizabeth opens her mouth, a slight smile on the edge of her lip.

"I heard you were going to go on a date with Aron."

Fuck.

"I'd rather if you went on one with me. I think we'd have more fun."

Double fuck.

*****************

"Sounds good!"

Elizabeth stands and walks away with a bit of swagger as I plant my face on the table before me.

"All these people stress me out, Dakota."

A grumble comes from the fox that is only endeavoring to sleep more. Elizabeth and I woke him up multiple times during our talk, where she hounded me for details until I finally agreed to only go on a date with her.

She was supremely adamant that Aron was only doing it to be friendly and that I would have more fun with her. Whatever. All the girls I know seem to be a least a little crazy. And while I like Elizabeth, I don't know if I'll ever have the time to really spend with her. Though... time with her is far more appealing than with Aron. She's nice, but I know very little about Virgil's family other than what he's told me.

Perhaps it's best I don't get too attached. Just have some fun, then focus back on the critical things. Exhaling deeply once more, I lie back on the bench, curling slightly to fit onto it fully as I close my eyes to fall asleep.

***********

I awake to another grumble from Dakota as I quickly discover the train to be stopped. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I look out a nearby window to find concrete buildings surrounding the train alongside a crowd only a dozen feet from the steel behemoth.

Are we there already? No way!

Confused, I stand as people are grabbing things, both belongings and weapons, around me. Tsking at Dakota, I step toward the front. All the things I need, I have on me. Death's Lantern on my hip, the Blooming Spider Lily in her holster, and some food in my pack. It's all easy to access and on me. Besides my arm, of course, but I trust Earl to handle that.

Rapidly, we reach the nearest exit of the train and step out to find Johnny discussing with a man in front of a crowd. The figure seems familiar, yet not. Squinting to further examine him, I start to see a resemblance.

Tall, dark hair, muscled all over, and with a sharp gaze that burrows into anything he finds of interest. The blade on his hip even fills me with some wariness from here. Definitely a swordsman. He kind of looks like Edmund, only younger and with deep crimson eyes. Wait a second...

That's Edward!

I kick the ground, hurtling myself forward as I sprint toward the man, surprising both him and Johnny with my speed without even using Ether. Edward, with a slight beard and focused eyes pivots to me as I get within arm's distance.

"And who would this be, Johnny?"

Johnny clears his throat before arranging an arm around my shoulder and lightly stabbing a fingernail into my arm as if to tell me to be on my best behavior.

"This is Wyatt. Wyatt Graves. The last student of your late father."

A silence hangs over us for a moment as others exit the train and enter the crowd. Many of them are soldiers, finding their families after months or even years away. But amongst the chaos and discord of joy, Edward peers down at me with a dissonant quiet.

He stands tall, taller than me, peering down at my form, his expression hidden by a steeled gaze. As he studies me, I can sense the weight of his gaze, as if he's assessing me in ways that go beyond the physical. It's a gaze that has seen countless battles, witnessed numerous die, and now staring at the reason for the last of their family to disappear from this world.

I open my mouth to speak, yet his words are faster. And his body is even quicker than that.

Arms wrap around me before I can see him move a little, the man whispering into my ears as I think of the skill he must have used. Shiver.

"Welcome home, Wyatt. I'm glad you're safe. The west side of Blackreach is open to you."

Stunned, I can't return the hug until he pulls away. Stammering out a reply, I can't grasp what's happening. Why is he so kind?

"You're not angry? Mad? You don't hate me? Why?"

Edward smirks as he glances at Johnny before laughing heartily.

"I was furious, once upon a time. The fact that my father chose you over many others, including myself, hurt. But... Edmund is a man of his word. I could not and cannot change him. And while you might not be of my blood, I know his care for you was genuine to have died for you. Additionally, I can sense the vitality in your blood. It is... scary—even for a Graves. The blood of my father is blood of mine. So, come. Rest. Tonight, we have the funeral for Marshall Travis. You are all right on time."

Johnny tries to speak as well, but Edward waves him off.

"Not today. You all enjoy yourself. Let the soldiers return to their families. Check out the statue I had Ernest make. Tomorrow we will discuss the future. I can see the journey has been hard. Take a day to soften those muscles you all keep so tense."

Edward manages to make even Johnny relax as the man strides away, stepping around the crowd with a wave.

"Tonight, I will keep watch over Myriad. No need to worry about him."

Smiling, I twist to Johnny. As I do, I notice his eyes are still pretty dim. I bet he can only see a slight amount of light with those pupils of his. Hopefully, he can see better by the time the funeral comes tonight.

"Can we go see the statue? Please?"

The gunslinger shakes his head but agrees.

"Yeah. Of course. Let's get Tomas first, though."

I nod as we wait a few moments for more people to exit the train, gradually joining the crowd and finding their loved ones. I even see Primrose find a cousin she hugs before rejoining Earl on the train to continue the work on my prosthetic. Those two are spending an awful lot of time together. Odd. But many of us from before Bent don't have any families here. Or anywhere else. So over time, more and more drift to us. Virgil, Bonfire, Abraham, Silas, and many more until, finally, Tomas steps off the train.

I wave him over, and he moves slowly over to us as if exhausted. Man, I know the feeling. When he gets next to us, I tell him where we're going.

"Hey, we're going to see the statue made for Marshall. Wanna come?"

Tomas' eyes immediately light up with his signature vertical yellow pupils before he acquiesces. The man waves his arm in a forward motion, indicating for me to lead.

"Yes, please. Show me the way."

Ooh...

I don't know where it's at.

A fit of laughter originates from behind me as Bonfire and Abraham together point at me, their hands outstretched in derision. Even Virgil chuckles softly.

"Hey!"

I shout at them, but they won't stop until Johnny makes them.

"Quit it. I'll lead. Edward already told me where it was earlier."

The gunslinger does as he says he will and leads our decently sized group through the vast and crowded streets of Blackstone. Almost all of Blackreach is covered in sprawling cities; if they aren't, they are left with flat stone earth to walk. No grass or trees grow oft in Blackreach, as most of the soil is hard rock, but that makes it relatively easy to build on.

I see the statue made of stone from far away, but I restrain from looking at it in detail until I near it. Moments pass until we finally enter the massive square in the center of the city where Marshall's monument lies.

I approach the colossal statue with a mixture of reverence and nostalgia. Weakness suffuses my muscles simply with the image of the man. The three-story monument towers over me, casting a shadow that stretches across the square. It depicts a powerful general frozen in time, his muscular form captured mid-swing as he unleashes a devastating punch into the air. What makes me pause is the way the very air around the fist seems to crackle with energy, as if the stone version of the fallen man possesses the same near-Godly power as the living one once did.

Dark blue chains wrap around the entirety of the statue. Somehow, Ernest, the man who trained Earl in Sigils and Coltsmithing, must have put a 6th Sigil into this statue—deserving of Marshall. And as I look closer, for a moment, I see a shade of violet. But it fades just as quickly as I notice it.

My gaze traces over the intricate details of the statue—the sinews of the General's muscles, the determined set of his jaw, and the intensity in his eyes. It's as if Ernest managed to capture not just the physicality, but also the indomitable spirit of the General who once stood as a symbol of strength and safety to the entirety of the Territories.

Memories flood my mind as I stand before the statue, memories of the days, nights, mornings, and evenings spent with Marshall. Whenever we had the opportunity, the General would force me to my limits and beyond. I remember the grueling training sessions, the bruises and sore muscles, all in the pursuit of becoming a better fighter—a better man.

He wasn't just a stern teacher, though. Amidst the toughness, there were moments of unexpected kindness. He often told me old stories, depicting his past in gruesome detail. But while he did so, he'd share bits that warmed my heart, even on cold nights. One day, he even left me to sleep the whole day, choosing instead to let me enjoy it while he took on even more duties.

But beyond the physical training, it was the life lessons he imparted that truly left their mark on me. He spoke of honor, discipline, and the responsibility that comes with wielding power. As the powerful, we must protect the weak by any means necessary. I am unsure how much I agree with that exactly, but I do follow that decree for the ones I care about. He taught me the importance of building a relationship with my artifact. To become more than just two separate parts.

Marshall's teachings together made me a much more powerful Sigiled and a much better man.

As my memories come to a close, I turn my attention to the plaque at the base of the statue. The words are etched in elegant script, a quote from the fallen man followed by a solemn thank you.

I am old. I am stubborn. I am arrogant. I am a thousand other harmful things. But I am not weak. Forever will my wall stand so long as I live. I fight not for myself or for the luxuries of the world. I fight for the children who grow behind me. They are our future. They are all that really matter.

- Marshall Travis, The Sky Breaker, Bestower Of Strengths, Slayer Of Thousands, The Horde Destroyer, Explorer Of The North, Founder Of Northene, The Liberator Of Vallens, The Fist Of The Prime, Humanity's Shield, Ender Of Demons, The Shatterer Of Hollows, The Knuckle Of Diamond, The Pained Heart, The Horseman Of War—

The Unyielding Wall

Forever shall he rest.

Not in any Heaven, Hell, or Limbo, but instead, in our hearts.

Forever and eternally.

We thank you, Marshall Travis, for your life of service to mankind, and may the Devil weigh in your favor.

Under the script is a vast area where many have signed their names into the stone with a short token of what they were to him.

I add mine with a hand so shaky I almost misspell my own name.

Wyatt Iron Graves - Apprentice to an undefeated master.

Even at the very end, Marshall was not bested. The Unyielding Wall did not break.

He simply made a new wall, this one of wind that will last far longer than his fleshy body.