Chapter Text
Her name was Amy.
They knew because that’s what Hope called her.
“Amy! Is that you?”
“You hanging in there, Amy?”
“How’re you feeling, Amy?”
Amy.
Her movements could have been frantic, had she not an eternal amount of grace in them. Her jumps over obstacles came with a practiced flip, and her dash across the land left pink sparkles in the wake of her turning cards. Sometimes, her hold slipped on them, and they could tell she wasn’t all that used to using them this way, but she just readjusted and powered on through, the few of them that had chosen to follow, still clinging to her digital trail, patient as she trecked her way through the hills.
It took her much longer than it did Hope. Just now they realized how fast he was, because while he could trek the whole island in a day with some time to spare, she took a day to just get through half the land. That was fine. It was vast space, and she’d set out late evening from where the Hermit waited, taking so many breaks to pick up the many of them she saw on her way. Truly, her concern was in keeping them safe, because it shone in her eyes and lit up her face.
She was a kind soul. That much was evident. Not just to them, but to her friends, to everyone that so much as casted a smile her way. She was… she was a gem. Attitude, love like hers was a rarity. Unconditional and equally handed to everyone she saw. She had been mingling with them the longest now, and time and time again she had made her concern for Hope clear. But she’d also made it clear she had an unwavering faith in Hope, in his actions, in his success.
“He’s defied all odds, before.” She explained, eyes dreamy, smile fond. “Not even faith has a claim to him. Now will be no different. I trust him.”
So, she kept on. Because if her faith in him was unwavering, then she would do everything in her power to follow his request. Find the emeralds. Keep them safe. Perhaps, she didn’t have the wild and untamed penchant for adventure Hope had, but her love was more than enough of a driving force.
And now she was here. Her cards rolled up back into her stack, and she took them in her hand, the shapes disappearing in a flash of Cyber Energy. She stood there, panting but with a smile on her face, staring at the Chaos Emerald glowing gold in its holding cell.
“Finally.” She breathed.
And then they appeared. They chimed behind her, cheers and congratulations to her work, and Amy turned, her eyes wide, her smile genuine. Their encouragement reached her ears, and immediately that surprise melted to adoration, as she strolled forwards, movements elegant as she lowered herself to her knees, smiling at them, caressing their heads.
You’ve got this!
“ We’ve got this.” She corrected, laughter coloring her words. She smiled at them, and they smiled back, because even with death hovering above her she found a way to smile, just like Hope, but somehow so light and airy it left room for that doubt that seemed alright.
“You’ll see.” She assured again. “Sonic’s got this. He’s the bravest, fastest, kindest person you’ll ever meet. The End doesn’t stand a chance.”
And they wanted to believe. They wanted to believe so badly that their Hope could . That history wouldn’t repeat itself, that no more blood would be shed. That day and night would keep rolling on, gentle caress over the landscape as they dragged the stars and their magic along, as flowers bloomed and withered and died and made room for a whole new cycle of life. They wanted to believe that days weren’t numbered, that eternity would reign, that they could go back to islands of silence but of a peaceful kind, strong in relief.
They wanted to hope.
And yet, they couldn’t do it as faithfully as she did.
How?
“What?” She blinked, smiled patiently.
How do you know? How can you be so sure? Hopes and dreams aren’t facts. You speak them as if they are.
“Oh.” Amy hummed. She settled back, sat down. The wind combed through the grass about her gently. “Well, it’s Sonic. It’s harder to believe he won’t make it than believing he will.”
You admire him.
“I do.” She confessed. There was something soft about her gaze, her smile, eyes on the ground, mind distant. Thoughtful and yet still serene. “I love him.”
They felt the flutter of the feeling. Even as lost in CyberSpace as Amy was–just like all her friends, in the farthest reaches of their constructs–it slipped into their midst, a complete adoration for someone held dear.
“I love him.” She repeated. “I used to think I did. When I first met him. I believe in love at first sight, you know?”
She sighed, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “I wound up driving him away. I thought he hated me.”
“And then…” She looked at them. But not really at them. Her gaze was haunted, distant. “Then the war happened. He… he was gone for six months. We all thought he was dead.”
They knew what she spoke of. They shuttered. Chimed in concern. Because Hope’s file bore so many scars, from so many weeks, locked away, cast aside. They worried. They figured his friends must’ve been worrying too.
“And I–” She chuckled. Blinked, and there were tears in her lashes, blooming in her eyes. “I had to move on. Everyone needed me. I– I couldn’t dwell on the fact he’d never loved me back. It was easy. Surprisingly so. And I realized… maybe, I hadn’t ever loved him at all.”
“I thought I did. But thinking and actually doing are two very different things. It was more the idea of romance that I loved. Fantasies. Thinking about it, I don’t think I would’ve cared much if it had been Sonic, who I wound up doing all those cheesy couple things with. But now…”
A soft sigh. She sniffled, wiped at her eyes. The wind combed her quills, whisking away her tears. “When he came back, I didn’t get to talk with him much, at first. It was the last effort to push back the war. And after that, I was officially manning the Restoration. We talked some. Checked in with each other. I didn’t have the time to fawn over him like I used to. And… And I got to know him. Differently. He wasn’t running away from me. He was listening. He was… I was. I was a person to him for once. I was nice. He returned it tenfold. And I…
“I fell in love.”
She looked down at all of them. Her smile was soft, streaked in tears. The fondness in her eyes sparkled like crystals. “With him. Not with romance. Not with the idea of an altar and him in a suit and me in a pretty white dress. Just… with him. With who he is. He’s kind and dedicated and loyal and inspiring. He doesn’t let the world tell him what to do, how to be, when it matters. He’s not as loud and obnoxious as I guess we all make him out to be. A lot of the time, he’s just doing everything for us. He’s…”
A dreamy sigh. “I love him. He’s the reason I understand what love is, now. The reason I love this world, because he’s shown me there’s so much within it worth loving. There’s so much within it worth saving. All the little things. The little smiles. The little quirks. Ocean spray. Grass-combed breeze. The smell of cotton candy in the air. Painted clouds. Golden sands. It’s all beautiful. I’ve learned that from him.”
They watched, patiently. She slipped into silence, absentmindedly ran her hand over their heads, watched the stars as they bathed the landscape with their silver ribbons, shimmering lights. She closed her eyes, leaned into the breeze, took a deep breath and they could tell she was feeling the world she so much adored, all the little things she spoke off, as much as she could through her dimensional-detachment.
“I don’t know if he’ll ever love me back.” She confessed. She didn’t sound disappointed. “It’s… not like him. I think, if he was to ever love like that, he’d do all manner of foolish things and lose himself in the process. It's just… him. It’s how he is. He’s loyal to a fault. He loves Tails like his little brother and I’m sure he’s willing to give both of his legs, heart and soul for him at the drop of a hat. I don’t know what I’d do with it, if he gave me all that love and more. I think it’s fine. Because he already gives so much of that love to the world.”
And she turned to them. Her eyes were determined, then, with a love capable of lighting stars, burning embers, saving lives. A dedication to all things, purposeful and useless and pretty and ugly and life and death.
“And I want to share that love. I want to share my love like he’s shared his. I want to show everyone that love is more than pretty roses and boxes of chocolates. That love is admiration and passion and all the pretty things and all the hurtful things and the world doesn’t always come wrapped in a neat little bow but it sparkles gold regardless. I want to show them. Because it’s beautiful. Because in the end, it makes me smile. It makes me see how much life is worth. Sonic’s shown me that.
It’s my turn to show everyone else.”
She stood up. They chimed at her, agreement and encouragement and a swell of pride at such a masterful sentiment, a concept fit for a philosophy. She smiled at them, held them in her eyes with all that love, and then gazed at the glowing emerald before her, regarding it like a jewel, suspended in the night sky.
“How about this:” Amy said, suddenly. She called for her cards, and spread them before them like a fan, her smile waning to a soft little genuine thing. “One last read. For good luck.”
They eagerly chirped. They bounded forwards, debated for a second, and pulled out a card, a thing adorned in a wide green eye and surrounded in dark smoke.
She held it afloat, her lips pursed in apprehension. “The Darkness.”
They paused, but then reached for the second card, because she’d just shown them to believe. In the impossible. In all things possible. The next card she hovered left her staring, because it was a chain of gold and silver, encrusted in jewels.
“The Lineage.”
Not exactly good. But not bad, either, so they eagerly reached for the last one, which she flicked up on command, a shape blazing gold surrounded by the glow of seven comforting colors.
“The Victor.” Her eyes stared thoughtfully at the cards for a second, as she dismissed the rest of the deck. Her words came out as nothing but a thoughtful whisper. “ ‘The heir of darkness triumphs?’ No that…”
Her tone edged into despair, almost unnoticeable, but then she looked up, and her eyes were suddenly captivated by the clear night sky. They looked up as well, and perhaps they could have sworn in that moment, they saw the desolate path in space their ships had once trekked, all through stars and galaxies, all the way back to the ruins of their once home.
But Amy saw something else. “Oh! Saturn is in the Chaos Sector. Silly me. It would be The Saviour then, not The Victor.”
“ ‘The hero offers salvation from the lineage of darkness.’ ” She recited as her final verdict, her tone absolute. Perhaps her first reading had spooked her, but if it had, it didn’t show. “Or maybe just the hero saves us from darkness, and chains are involved somehow.”
They offered a few reassuring chirps, but she continued, as if to make sure there was no room for argument. “Don’t worry, the first thing was my fault. Sonic’s got it, you’ll see!”
So they smiled for her, because her faith was unwavering, even when her cards tried to trip her up. Because really, how much of the card reading was actually based on facts? They doubted much. It was like their own superstitious beliefs, which had been admittedly phased out into nothing but entertainment over the years. They hadn’t yet developed technology capable of predicting the future at the time of their demise.
So they’d take the sentiment.
She got up then. Satisfied she’d reassured them, she turned to the Chaos Emerald with a melting smile. She strode towards it with big steps that turned smaller and smaller until she approached, but they didn’t quite get to fully stop because all of a sudden, she cried, flinching and curling inwards as red smoke-corruption crept its way up her hands.
“Agh! This–” Her voice caught in her throat. They’d seen the whispers of cyber-corruption about her, eliciting small winces, but she’d never once complained. Evidently, this was worse. “This is what Sonic was suffering from .”
The pain in her voice was a mix of feelings that made them throb in sympathy. For her, for her plight, and for the concern for the boy she loved so much, which she prioritized somehow over her own.
And then her grass green eyes turned their way, and the guilt in them was like their deaths all over again.
“Handling you is affecting me the same way.” She lamented.
They chirped at her in worry, but she turned her eyes back to the Emerald, forced herself to stand tall, an action that immediately buckled but didn’t lose its resolve.
“Well, too bad!” She cried, to the Emerald, to the stars and the menace in their midst, defiance and anger her fuel. “They need me! I won’t give up!”
And she believed it could be done, so the least they could do was return the sentiment. Believe that it would be alright, that together with Hope, they would pull through, and a Miracle would come about.
Amy had read their fortune, after all.